#Amazon Die-Off

[collapseofindustrialcivilization]

Biodiversity Collapse, Climate Feedback Loops, the Population Bottleneck , and Human Extinction

Introduction: The Dual Crisis of Our Time Humanity stands at a crossroads unlike any in its history, facing a dual existential crisis: the rapid unraveling of Earth’s biodiversity and the accelerating destabilization of its climate. These intertwined threats, driven by human activity, are propelling us toward a bottleneck scenario—a drastic reduction in global population and societal complexity.…

[gothamite-rambler]

Hippolyta paced the polished tile floors, waiting for her daughter, Diana, to arrive. She had heard the fantastic news that her daughter was pregnant, but she couldn’t help but have some concerns, who the father might be, the birthing process, and the baby shower.

Diana: Mother, you wanted to see me?

Hippolyta (regal voice): Yes, Diana. I received your message about expecting a child. You’re pregnant?

Diana (posing to the side to show her small baby bump): I am! Three months along. Steve got the call from the doctor, and he’s just as elated as I am!

Hippolyta (hopeful): The baby is… his?

Diana: Yes. Who else would be the father?

Hippolyta (eyes shifting to an Amazon sister): I wasn’t making any guesses, but some of your sisters assumed Superman or Hera forbid, Batman were going to be the fathers.

Diana: Ew! No. Those are like my brothers now. Any infatuation I had for them faded long ago. Steve is the father of our little girl.

Hippolyta (elated): You’re having a girl?

Diana: Well, it hasn’t been officially confirmed yet, but I’m positive it’s going to be a girl. She’ll have both our features—a winning smile and wavy hair like me.

Hippolyta: That’s exactly what I pictured, my grandbaby— I mean, your child. What will the birthing process be like? Do you need a midwife?

Diana: No, I plan to give birth in a hospital with an epidural.

Hippolyta: I’ve heard about that. As someone who birthed a child before making you, I’ll advise you... get it. You don’t want to feel the full pain of your vagina widening every few seconds.

Diana: Okay, I didn’t need to hear that, but thank you for the advice. How are you feeling about all this? I know you never quite expected it.

Hippolyta: And you think I’d be upset? I’m having a granddaughter and from Steve Trevor, no less! I’ve been praying to Hera every day that you’d have a child, and not from those rambunctious boys, Superman and Batman. Gods, we get it, you're men!

Diana chuckled, a bemused smile on her face at her mother’s reaction.

Diana: Mother, I thought you liked them.

Hippolyta: I do. They’re not Zeus or Poseidon, they’re good men. Steve, though, that’s a great man. I always told the other Amazon sisters he was the perfect match for you.

Artemis (walking past the mother and daughter): After she had been married to him for five years.

Hippolyta: Nobody asked you, Artemis! Diana, I am ecstatic to see you have a child. In your face, Alexa!

Alexa rolled her eyes while polishing her sword.

Diana: It’s good to see you supportive of this, mother. I guess that means you’ll be attending the baby shower?

Hippolyta clapped eagerly with a wide smile.

Hippolyta: Of course! I’ll be the organizer. A true Amazonian baby shower! We can invite all the sisters, and some goddesses, and have those cakes you like to cut, to reveal the gender of the baby. Although, we all know it’s going to be a girl.

While Hippolyta rambled about the baby shower and gifts for her granddaughter, Artemis approached Diana and pulled her aside.

Artemis: Are you seriously going to let her plan the baby shower?

Diana: Yes. She’s so happy, and she’s moved past her weird man-hate from decades ago. Plus, she’s close with Hestia. That goddess gives the best gifts.

Artemis: That’s true. Can I attend with my male friends?

Diana: There’s no need to ask. You’re my sister and I know you're bringing my favorite Robin, Jason. As long as you bring that smiling face, and a gift, you’re invited.

Artemis: I appreciate that, Diana. Be warned, I tend to gift weapons most of the time.

Diana: Um… just bring diapers with it, and you’ll be fine.

She's pregnant

[kaidatheghostdragon]

Dani x Jason Prompt

(Because i dont see enough of these two together. Also, this is another prompt i found in my fic files that i never did anything with.)

While Danny is in Amity Park protecting the ghost portal, Dani explores the world. Danny might be powerful enough to put down any threat, even Ancients, but she isn't as lucky. Her best defense against Vlad or the GIW is to never be in the same place two days in a row. Not to say she isn't powerful in her own right - she's yet to meet a ghost in her travels that she couldn't utterly crush, and even if she had, she's got the most loyal dog in both this world and the next to have her six.

Dani has discovered a great deal of beauty throughout the world in her few short years of life, but also unfathomable evil and undescribable corruption. She does what she can in every place she passes through, her ghost powers the ultimate cheat code for investigation and subterfuge, bringing to light the things that once hid in the dark.

But while scoping out yet another child trafficking ring, she crosses paths with a spirit of vengeance. At least, that's the only explanation she can come up with for how he's able to turn his shock and horror into pure rage at the flip of a dime.

Until she realizes that he's a baby halfa. If he doesn't learn how to mediate his emotions, he's going to burn out one of his halves.

Maybe she can help him stabilize into a proper spirit of justice and keep him from following the path that Vlad went down - oh shit, he doesn't even know that he's undead. Well, this is going to be a project and a half. But Dani is nothing if not resourceful - she's more than willing to put in the work if it means making an ally of the fourth known halfa.

Featuring:

Dani and jason are about the same age (16-17ish)

They run into each other during jason's LoA-sponsored world tour, investigating the same trafficking ring

Cujo is there too

Dani totally helps with the crime lord grand plan, but also wrestles jason down from the more messed up family drama stuff he did, like attacking tim, and knocks some sense into him and finds a better solution for dealing with the joker

[the-inevitability-of-death]

I wish tumblr ads would stop recommending me these fucking ugly bright pink underwear because the thing is I really do need new underwear but I do not want to search for them so long as that ad is ever in the possibility of rotating on my dash again, and right now it is all of them

[polestargios]

“it’s on amazon” “i got it on amazon” “you can find it on my amazon storefront” SHUT UPPPPPPPP SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPPPPPPPP

[audiovisualrecall]

Ok like I know Craig wanted out of being bond and I'm totally fine with that being the end of bond, with new 007, etc. (Tho who knows what Amazon will do now)

But. I don't think that James bond needed to actually die to let the 'character' die and let Craig leave the films. Nanobots can be coded or otherwise killed, bc they are robots/technology, an EMP should be able to shut down the ones in Bond's bloodstream, they could have him survive *somehow* the same way he always manages to, like make it seem like he dies, and then show him in the roomnwith the team toasting to him, and have Q say it's done, it'll work, and then show bond with his wife and daughter somewhere happy together, and he just like. Looks like a totally different person bc he's legally dead or whatever. And then he literally never has to do another bond film. And then at least if Amazon brings the character back to life at least it won't be completely out of left field and confusing and stupid like ah yes bond is alive magically but we aren't going to mention his wife or baby at all or his supposed death or anything at all. Like. Whatever.

[collapseofindustrialcivilization]

The Unseen Accelerators of Climate Change and The Final Unraveling

The climate crisis is no longer a distant threat—it is a rapidly unfolding reality, driven by forces that science is only beginning to fully grasp. James Hansen’s groundbreaking 2025 study, Global Warming Has Accelerated, reveals how humanity’s well-intentioned efforts to reduce air pollution have inadvertently unmasked a hidden layer of planetary heating. By slashing sulfur emissions from ships,…

[smolsaltypan]

.

[bogleech]

I have seen the first four episodes of the Sausage Party miniseries, because that exists, and let me tell you the plot so far:

The foods have exterminated most of humanity, at least as far as they or the audience can tell. The story is limited to just the immediate city around the supermarket so I dunno. The foods then try to build their own better society, but soon a bartering system evolves around the symbolic value of human teeth, and a power-mad orange realizes he can amass more of this abstract "wealth" by controlling the flow of resources. Many foods try to ignore this arbitrary system and take whatever they want, so "rules" are established that you're not allowed to just take things, and will have to be punished if you do, with some foods appointed positions of enforcing the rules. The foods think it's only fair that the law be enforced the same for everybody, failing to factor in that some foods require refrigeration in order to not melt or decompose, and the last functioning freezer is already owned by the orange. Without enough teeth in public circulation, perishable foods become increasingly more likely to break the law as they sicken and die, and so the most vulnerable of their society become the most severely punished by an increasingly violent police force [of mostly canned hams]. Anyway while all this is going on the hot dog and the hot dog bun are secretly keeping a live human prisoner and feeding him feet they sawed off of other human corpses. This is where we've left off so far. The writing of all this is much more competent than you are probably imagining, seemingly thanks to a co-writer from Shrek 2, and it appears to have taken so many years to come out because now the animators are being well paid for healthier work hours. I still didn't pay to watch it though because fuck amazon

[theyreallgaylol]

Literally losing it.

Can't cast shit to my PS4 unless it's YouTube, got kicked off Netflix cuz password-sharing bullshit (hope they burn their business into the ground btw /gen), got kicked off my friend's Disney+ cuz he couldn't afford to pay it one week and they made it fucking impossible to sign in without the owner of the account being present along with their phone, email and fuckin 3 forms of identification hhhhhhh and for fuckin what?? Just let me type the fucking email and password and be done with it!! Why does everything have to have a million fucking steps now??? Give me back email and passwords!!! I'm sick of this log-in on your phone shit!! Bitch, no!! I'm using my PS4/TV, not my phone, if I wanted to log on on my phone, I would've downloaded the streaming app on my phone??? Fuck off

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The one weird monopoly trick that gave us Walmart and Amazon and killed Main Street

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Walmart didn't just happen. The rise of Walmart – and Amazon, its online successor – was the result of a specific policy choice, the decision by the Reagan administration not to enforce a key antitrust law. Walmart may have been founded by Sam Walton, but its success (and the demise of the American Main Street) are down to Reaganomics.

The law that Reagan neutered? The Robinson-Patman Act, a very boring-sounding law that makes it illegal for powerful companies (like Walmart) to demand preferential pricing from their suppliers (farmers, packaged goods makers, meat producers, etc). The idea here is straightforward. A company like Walmart is a powerful buyer (a "monopsonist" – compare with "monopolist," a powerful seller). That means that they can demand deep discounts from suppliers. Smaller stores – the mom and pop store on your Main Street – don't have the clout to demand those discounts. Worse, because those buyers are weak, the sellers – packaged goods companies, agribusiness cartels, Big Meat – can actually charge them more to make up for the losses they're taking in selling below cost to Walmart.

Reagan ordered his antitrust cops to stop enforcing Robinson-Patman, which was a huge giveaway to big business. Of course, that's not how Reagan framed it: He called Robinson-Patman a declaration of "war on low prices," because it prevented big companies from using their buying power to squeeze huge discounts. Reagan's court sorcerers/economists asserted that if Walmart could get goods at lower prices, they would sell goods at lower prices.

Which was true…up to a point. Because preferential discounting (offering better discounts to bigger customers) creates a structural advantage over smaller businesses, it meant that big box stores would eventually eliminate virtually all of their smaller competitors. That's exactly what happened: downtowns withered, suburban big boxes grew. Spending that would have formerly stayed in the community was whisked away to corporate headquarters. These corporate HQs were inevitably located in "onshore-offshore" tax haven states, meaning they were barely taxed at the state level. That left plenty of money in these big companies' coffers to spend on funny accountants who'd help them avoid federal taxes, too. That's another structural advantage the big box stores had over the mom-and-pops: not only did they get their inventory at below-cost discounts, they didn't have to pay tax on the profits, either.

MBA programs actually teach this as a strategy to pursue: they usually refer to Amazon's "flywheel" where lower prices bring in more customers which allows them to demand even lower prices:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BaSwWYemLek

You might have heard about rural and inner-city "food deserts," where all the independent grocery stores have shuttered, leaving behind nothing but dollar stores? These are the direct product of the decision not to enforce Robinson-Patman. Dollar stores target working class neighborhoods with functional, beloved local grocers. They open multiple dollar stores nearby (nearly all the dollar stores you see are owned by one of two conglomerates, no matter what the sign over the door says). They price goods below cost and pay for high levels of staffing, draining business off the community grocery store until it collapses. Then, all the dollar stores except one close and the remaining store fires most of its staff (working at a dollar store is incredibly dangerous, thanks to low staffing levels that make them easy targets for armed robbers). Then, they jack up prices, selling goods in "cheater" sizes that are smaller than the normal retail packaging, and which are only made available to large dollar store conglomerates:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/03/27/walmarts-jackals/#cheater-sizes

Writing in The American Prospect, Max M Miller and Bryce Tuttle1 – a current and a former staffer for FTC Commissioner Alvaro Bedoya – write about the long shadow cast by Reagan's decision to put Robinson-Patman in mothballs:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-08-13-stopping-excessive-market-power-monopoly/

They tell the story of Robinson-Patman's origins in 1936, when A&P was using preferential discounts to destroy the independent grocery sector and endanger the American food system. A&P didn't just demand preferential discounts from its suppliers; it also charged them a fortune to be displayed on its shelves, an early version of Amazon's $38b/year payola system:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/28/enshittification/#relentless-payola

They point out that Robinson-Patman didn't really need to be enacted; America already had an antitrust law that banned this conduct: section 2 of the the Clayton Act, which was passed in 1914. But for decades, the US courts refused to interpret the Clayton Act according to its plain meaning, with judges tying themselves in knots to insist that the law couldn't possibly mean what it said. Robinson-Patman was one of a series of antitrust laws that Congress passed in a bid to explain in words so small even federal judges could understand them that the purpose of American antitrust law was to keep corporations weak:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Both the Clayton Act and Robinson-Patman reject the argument that it's OK to let monopolies form and come to dominate critical sectors of the American economy based on the theoretical possibility that this will lead to lower prices. They reject this idea first as a legal matter. We don't let giant corporations victimize small businesses and their suppliers just because that might help someone else.

Beyond this, there's the realpolitik of monopoly. Yes, companies could pass lower costs on to customers, but will they? Look at Amazon: the company takes $0.45-$0.51 out of every dollar that its sellers earn, and requires them to offer their lowest price on Amazon. No one has a 45-51% margin, so every seller jacks up their prices on Amazon, but you don't notice it, because Amazon forces them to jack up prices everywhere else:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/01/managerial-discretion/#junk-fees

The Robinson-Patman Act did important work, and its absence led to many of the horribles we're living through today. This week on his Peoples & Things podcast, Lee Vinsel talked with Benjamin Waterhouse about his new book, One Day I’ll Work for Myself: The Dream and Delusion That Conquered America:

https://athenaeum.vt.domains/peoplesandthings/2024/08/12/78-benjamin-c-waterhouse-on-one-day-ill-work-for-myself-the-dream-and-delusion-that-conquered-america/

Towards the end of the discussion, Vinsel and Waterhouse turn to Robinson-Patman, its author, Wright Patman, and the politics of small business in America. They point out – correctly – that Wright Patman was something of a creep, a "Dixiecrat" (southern Democrat) who was either an ideological segregationist or someone who didn't mind supporting segregation irrespective of his beliefs.

That's a valid critique of Wright Patman, but it's got little bearing on the substance and history of the law that bears his name, the Robinson-Patman Act. Vinsel and Waterhouse get into that as well, and while they made some good points that I wholeheartedly agreed with, I fiercely disagree with the conclusion they drew from these points.

Vinsel and Waterhouse point out (again, correctly) that small businesses have a long history of supporting reactionary causes and attacking workers' rights – associations of small businesses, small women-owned business, and small minority-owned businesses were all in on opposition to minimum wages and other key labor causes.

But while this is all true, that doesn't make Robinson-Patman a reactionary law, or bad for workers. The point of protecting small businesses from the predatory practices of large firms is to maintain an American economy where business can't trump workers or government. Large companies are literally ungovernable: they have gigantic war-chests they can spend lobbying governments and corrupting the political process, and concentrated sectors find it comparatively easy to come together to decide on a single lobbying position and then make it reality.

As Vinsel and Waterhouse discuss, US big business has traditionally hated small business. They recount a notorious and telling anaecdote about the editor of the Chamber of Commerce magazine asking his boss if he could include coverage of small businesses, given the many small business owners who belonged to the Chamber, only to be told, "Over my dead body." Why did – why does – big business hate small business so much? Because small businesses wreck the game. If they are included in hearings, notices of inquiry, or just given a vote on what the Chamber of Commerce will lobby for with their membership dollars, they will ask for things that break with the big business lobbying consensus.

That's why we should like small business. Not because small business owners are incapable of being petty tyrants, but because whatever else, they will be petty. They won't be able to hire million-dollar-a-month union-busting law-firms, they won't be able to bribe Congress to pass favorable laws, they can't capture their regulators with juicy offers of sweet jobs after their government service ends.

Vinsel and Waterhouse point out that many large firms emerged during the era in which Robinson-Patman was in force, but that misunderstands the purpose of Robinson-Patman: it wasn't designed to prevent any large businesses from emerging. There are some capital-intensive sectors (say, chip fabrication) where the minimum size for doing anything is pretty damned big.

As Miller and Tuttle write:

The goal of RPA was not to create a permanent Jeffersonian agrarian republic of exclusively small businesses. It was to preserve a diverse economy of big and small businesses. Congress recognized that the needs of communities and people—whether in their role as consumers, business owners, or workers—are varied and diverse. A handful of large chains would never be able to meet all those needs in every community, especially if they are granted pricing power.

The fight against monopoly is only secondarily a fight between small businesses and giant ones. It's foundationally a fight about whether corporations should have so much power that they are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/14/the-price-is-wright/#enforcement-priorities

[housepartyprotocol]

Farmhand

Oscar Piastri x Clarkson's Farmer!Reader

summary: Oscar has his visit to the Clarkson Farm and meets a certain animal-centred farm hand (a/n: this is a tiny touch self indulgent as i am obsessed with Clarkson's farm 24/7)

Masterlist / TipJar

ynusername

liked by kalebcooper, jeremyclarkson and 4,209 others

ynusername Season 4 of Clarkson Farm filming underway. Ready to have cameras in my face while I muck out and feed baby animals for the next few months.

view all 95 comments

user horse queen

lisahogan come join me in the farm shop

ynusername thats aruguably more camera time no thank you

user came for Jeremy Clarkson, stayed for YN

user her content is amazing

user looking forward to clarkson farm season 4!

oscarpiastri

liked by jeremyclarkson, kalebcooper, ynusername and 885,256 others

oscarpiastri I don't think I will be farming again anytime soon

view all 3,255 comments

user did you see the video of him struggling to reverse the tractor?

user I saw Kaleb and a girl die of laughter in the background user whos the girl? user she works on the farm, she is really funny in the show

mclaren not such a good driver ?

oscarpiastri a tractor is not an f1 car

kalebcooper had a great time mate! you are more then welcome to try again

oscarpiastri I dont feel like humilating myself infront of people again user I really hope it makes the show

ynusername

liked kalebcooper, jeremyclarkson, oscarpiastri, and 5,803 others

ynusername week of my furry babies

view all 187 comments

user oml so cute!

user what does she do on the farm

user she’s a dog trainer, specifically hunting dogs. she also raises and trains horses user she’s diddly squats animal whisperer

lisahogan I love heart cow, shes my baby

ynusername your next farm baby, one of many!

user did you see her making fun of oscar, the f1 driver?

clarksonsfarm

liked by ynusername, jeremeyclarkson, oscarpiastri, and 53,532 others

clarksonsfarm Filming life back on the farm ready for the next series! Somehow health and safety signed off on a team of camera crew joining farm hand YN on a hack...

Stick around to see how it went

view all 4,220 comments

user I need this footage now

user I cannot wait for this season, I bet there will be more YN screen time

liked by oscarpiastri

ynusername Twas a great time, no accidents, no issues with birds, perfect...

user OMG tell us what happened ynusername ;) kalebcooper Happy I was not there ynusername It was fun!

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, landonorris, ynusername, and 659,098 others

oscarpiastri Back in my type of vehicle. I can drive this.

view all 20,987 comments

user clarkson farm reference!

user P3 Qualifying!

ynusername Good luck

liked by oscarpiastri user OMG Its her! user who? user Watch Clarksons's farm on amazon user Jeremy clarkson..? user YUP

landonorris still so jealous you got to drive a tractor

landonorris I asked, no one will let me oscarpiastri aww poor you user i cannot imagine lando driving a tractor mclaren you are too much of a liability for us to let you do that landonorris But you LET OSCAR?! user hes 1 sec away from downloading a tractor simulator

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri, kalebcooper, lisahogan, and 6,735 others

ynusername Order of preference, horses>dogs>racecars>cows>sheep>people

view all 429 comments

user why are people so low...

ynusername because animals are less likely to be sassier than me, which is how i like it user thats honestly so real

lisahogan that order is respectable, but race cars?

ynusername your parter is JEREMY CLARKSON? lisahogan true

user No that reaction to F1 is my resting face while watching

oscarpiastri dogs win

ynusername you need to meet more horses user CROSSOVER?!?!

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, kalebcooper, and 725,266 others

oscarpiastri Got told I needed to meet more horses by a dog trainer

view all 6,362 comments

user is he just living at clarksons farm

user his second home

ynusername I train, raise, and breed horses too silly

oscarpiastri but you are still a dog trainer ynusername hunting dogs user YN calling Oscar 'silly' is the highlight of my life

user is that his girlfriend

user no she works on the farm he is visiting, Jeremy Clarkson's farm user he could be visiting her at his farm because he is dating her user he definitely likes her though

mclaren horses on the track next?

user admin is a genius user barrel racing, jumping user put all f1 drivers on ponies, and get them to race

landonorris you are a walking insurance risk. Tractors, horses, yet i can do nothing @ McLaren play fair

mclaren we'll get you a Shetland pony landonorris'll take it

mclaren

liked by oscarpiastri, ynusername, landonorris and 892,535 others

mclaren Race day and entertaining a special guest, happy to get them out of farming gear

@ ynusername

view all 24,532 comments

user God oscars hands are hot

ynusername whats wrong with my farm gear

user yn hurting at admins comments mclaren farm clothes are stil nice, but our merch is better ynusername thank you for it all !!

user Clarkson farm crossover to the next level

user Oscar is going to end up living on a farm no way is YN giving up her horses and dogs

user who said anything about them living together? are they even dating? user sure looks like it

oscarpiastri Definitely sticking with cars over horses

ynusername I'll try again and again landonorris can I? ynusername Sorry I'm not allowed to let you landonorris @ mclaren this is unfair!!

ynusername

liked by lisahogan, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 7,350 others

ynusername Had to absolute pleasure of riding the first horse I bred, raised, and sold. Love you peanut butter xx FT my baby and my pupper

view all 578 comments

user shes taken, damn

user I love that fact the first chance she had to name a horse she called it peanut butter

ynusername he looks just like it !! user she must have done a good job, that's a fancy ass stable

user I bet thats Oscar piastri

user oh yeah 1000%

oscarpiastri such beautiful animals

ynusername my children oscarpiastri such beautiful children ynusername yay user he is down bad

lisahogan we missed you these two weeks, but happy you had a good time

lisahogan give oscar our love user DID SHE JUST

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername, landonorris, jeremyclarkson and 987,567 others

oscarpiastri You can take my love out of the farm but you can't take the farm out of my love

view all 12,674 comments

user CONFIRMATION HES TAKEN

user she is stunning

user ITS YN, omg she got so lucky

user imagine if Oscar did not go to the farm

user faTEE!!

ynusername I am never leaving the farm

oscarpiastri done. ynusername done what... oscarpiastri sold my apartment in Monaco. ynusername I what. Huh, we should talk about this no oscarpiastri I'll learn to stand the farm smell for you ynusername ITS NOT A BAD SMELL

mclaren Cuties

user mother hen mclaren user mastermind

landonorris he can date the farm girl and driver tractors and ride horses and I can't get on a horse?

mclaren one time pass landonorris @ ynusername LETS GO HORSERIDING ynusername YESSS user this feels like an odd interaction oscarpiastri their entire relationship is an odd interation

[goquokka00]

Little Kitten

Summary: With a busy schedule and a comeback just around the corner, Minho had been getting more and more stressed by the minute. Thankfully, he had you. And you were more than happy to give him just what he needed.

Pairing: Minho X Reader (F!)

Genre: Smut (18+)

Warnings: use of lingerie, reader dresses like a cat, praise kink, dirty talk, Dom! Minho, oral sex (M! recieving), throat fucking, penetrative doggy style sex (wrap it before you tap it please!), Minho cums down reader's mouth, sweetie Minho afterwards, 100% 18+ (seriously like if you're a minor don't read pls and thank you <3)

Word Count: 2.3K

It had been a long, long week. Minho had gone through photoshoots, recording sessions, dance practice, vocal studies, promotions, interviews, signings...all he wanted was to just lay down and sleep some. But even that was too much to ask. Each time he had a second to breathe, he had to give it up to do something else for his job. And it was seriously getting on his nerves.

You could easily tell. He'd grunt and grumble instead of talking with you. He didn't kiss you as much, instead opting for the bed. If you didn't know any better, he loved the bed more than he loved you, his own girlfriend.

No offense taken.

You understood that Minho had a lot on his mind. But you also understood that Minho needed a distraction. Something to take his mind off of everything that was stressing him out. And thankfully, as his girlfriend and someone who knew him well, you had just the plan. All you had to do was set it into motion.

And so, while laying in bed one night after Minho had passed out (a now common occurrence), you sent a few texts to Bangchan to find out when Minho's next day off would occur. And after getting the date, you headed over to amazon to get some items that would be necessary for said plan. The most important was cat ears and a cat tail anal plug.

The lingerie came next; you decided on a black lace two piece. You also bought a collar with a small silver bell, some fluffy black handcuffs, and a little leash to go along with your outfit.

You still remember when it arrived, and Minho was there to receive the package. You rushed home, ripping it out of his grasp in a panic, not wanting to spoil the surprise. It was a close call, and a lot of lying and persuading, but...you eventually dodged that bullet.

And finally, after waiting for what felt like an eternity, the day arrived. It was a slow morning, Minho sleeping in until late morning before coming to eat the late breakfast you had made him. And after visiting and such for a bit, Minho went off to spend some time with Jisung, since you swore the two were secretly married.

Not that you minded, of course.

He kissed you goodbye, saying that he'd be back at 7 with dinner so the two of you could have some quality time together. And the second that door closed, you hopped onto a call with Hyunjin and Changbin, setting your phone up so they could see you and the outfit you were going to surprise Minho with later.

Why did you show them? Because they were dating. And only you and Stray Kids knew.

"Okay, okay. So, we're gonna start with these." With that, you held up the cat ears, sliding it onto your head before showing the two.

"Oh, he's gonna die." Changbin instantly commented, Hyunjin laughing at his response. "What? He is! He loves cats, he loves Y/n...I think he might actually implode!"

"Well, duh. But I don't think he'd implode." Hyunjin said, smiling as he looked closer at you. "He's definitely gonna fuck you, though."

"Good, that's what I want." You said with a laugh. And then, you pulled out the lingerie. "I also got this and a tail to go with."

"Oh my god..." Hyunjin said, looking at the set you had bought.

"Well, if he wasn't gonna implode, he's definitely gonna implode now." Changbin spoke.

"Yeah, no, I agree." Hyunjin nodded, making you laugh.

"I thought you said he wouldn't implode before!" You commented.

"That was before I knew about the lingerie, Y/n!"

"Well, I also got a cat tail butt plug too, so--"

"YOU GOT A WHAT?!" Hyunjin and Changbin both interrupted you, their jaws to the floor as you laughed and showed them the tail and the plug.

Well, if his other members thought that he was gonna be happy, then you guessed he'd be happy.

After that call, you finally started to get ready. You slid on the lingerie, lubed up the butt plug and slid it in, got the cat ears on and styled your hair and makeup, and put the final touches on your look. And once you finished up, you heard the door open.

He was here.

You quickly got onto the bed, sitting with your knees spread and hands between your legs, sitting up with a good posture as you waited patiently. And then, Minho called out.

"Y/n, I'm back!" And as he walked closer, you could hear him set the bags of food down. Oh, you were going to enjoy this.

"I'm just in the bedroom, Min!" You knew that he'd come to you. He always came to you when you weren't in the same room. And sure enough, the door opened. And in walked Minho, his eyes instantly locking onto you. Instantly, he froze, taking you in.

You were perfect. The lingerie perfectly showed off your curves, highlighting your breasts and hips beautifully. And that tail and those ears...it was absolutely stunning.

"Fuck..." Minho couldn't help but mutter it as he walked closer to you, taking you in and placing his hand onto your cheek, watching as you nuzzled into his hand. "What's all this?"

"Do you like it, baby?" You smiled up at him, an innocent look on your face. God, Minho couldn't wait to ruin you. "I figured you'd like a small surprise after working so hard..."

"Oh, I love this small surprise..." Minho smiled, looking at you before placing his hands on your shoulders, watching as you continued to look up at him. "You gonna be a good girl for me tonight?"

And you nodded. "Mhm...gonna be good."

Minho liked that answer. He hummed, smirking as he lifted your chin, seeing you close your eyes and smile softly. Yeah...he was gonna enjoy this. "Good..."

And from there, he took his hands off of you, going to undo his belt. You watched, only to hear him click his tongue.

"Ah ah, eyes up here, kitten." Minho then used one of his hands to guide your gaze back up to his eyes, his other hand pulling his belt off before slipping his button off of his pants. "Already so eager...I love that, but you gotta be patient..."

You just hummed, keeping your eyes on his, ignoring the sound of Minho's zipper slide. And then, his hand left your chin so he could pull his pants and boxers down. And your eyes stayed on him.

"Good girl..." Minho smirked as he praised you, his cock now out and ready to go. "Such a good girl for wanting to help me relax...even dressed all pretty for me. You wouldn't do that for anyone else, would you?"

"Mm-mm..." You hummed, shaking your head. That only got Minho's smile wider.

"That's right..." From there, Minho stroked his cock, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before forcing your head to gently (but firmly) look at him. "You're gonna continue to be good and suck my cock, isn't that right?" And as you nodded, Minho hummed, smiling. "Yeah, you are..."

And with that, he stood back up, letting you finally look down at his dick. And it didn't take you long to go and kiss and lick along his length, sliding his tip into your mouth before swirling your tongue around him. All the while, Minho groaned, sliding his shirt off before gathering your hair and holding it up for you, guiding you down his dick.

"That's a good girl...bet that cock tastes good, huh? You're drooling all over that dick, kitten..." All the while, you moaned, continuing to suck him off. Eventually, he pushed you down, his dick pressing against your throat, causing you to gag and be let up. "Good girl...breathe...that's it."

You just hummed, seeing the drool dripping off of his cock. But before you could take a bit longer to catch your breath, Minho was putting his cock against your lips once more, prodding into your warm mouth.

"Open..." And you did. You opened your mouth, letting Minho put his length back inside, guiding you once more. "That's it...god, can I fuck your mouth? You'll make me feel so good, beautiful...blink three times if you'll let me."

And blink three times you did.

It was less than a second when Minho smirked, gripping your head before forcing you down his cock, using your mouth as a fleshlight. Saliva was dripping from your chin and stringing onto Minho's cock, tears flooding down your eyes as Minho abused your mouth. But god, it was so good...you were living in that moment.

It wasn't long before Minho pulled out of your mouth, making you gasp for air and cough, leaning down to try and take a second. And all the while, Minho watched, petting your hair.

"Easy... breathe..." Minho eventually guided you to look back up at him, his eyes now soft as they met yours. "You okay? Wanna stop for a minute?"

You shook your head, swallowing before looking up at him. "No, I'm okay..."

Oh, Minho couldn't be prouder. He placed a kiss to your forehead once more, smiling down at you as he spoke. "Alright...on the bed, all fours. We'll give that pretty mouth a bit of a break, yeah?"

You didn't have to be told twice. You instantly moved back onto the bed, turning before propping your ass up, keeping your torso close to the bed. Your back arched beautifully, just as it always did for Minho. And you could hear him groan as he saw your cunt's outline in your panties.

"Fuck, look at you..." Minho stepped closer, his hands sliding into your panties before sliding them down, his thumb pressing against your clit. That made you moan, pushing your pussy into his touch, silently begging for more. "So wet already...sucking my dick got you so excited, didn't it kitten?"

You responded by nodding, keeping your eyes back on him. Anything that Minho did got you turned on. There wasn't any getting around it. And Minho knew it, too.

"Damn straight...don't worry, I'll be sure to treat this pussy well, beautiful..." And with that, Minho lined up, prodding against your entrance before sliding the tip in. And instantly, the both of you moaned, your thighs trembling as Minho continued to sink into you. "God, I missed this cunt so much...it's just as tight as it always is..."

It was so good, that Minho couldn't keep still. He instantly began to thrust, keeping a nice tempo while hitting all of those good spots inside of you, giving him every noise he wanted from you. He knew your body well...he knew exactly what to do to get you to whine, to moan, to whimper.

"That's a good girl...keep making all of those delicious sounds while I give you my dick...such a good girl for me, aren't you...?" Minho growled, his hand going to your neck to keep your torso to the bed. You simply moaned, the pathetic sound ringing out as Minho started to thrust harder. Faster.

"M-Min....fuck, so good...your dick is so good, Min!" You could barely contain your moans, not that Minho cared. He simply let out a low groan himself, a smirk leaving him as he snaked his hand under your waist, his thumb finding your clit before pressing. He knew he wouldn't have to rub it...his thrusts were moving your body enough that it was causing friction, which made you cry out.

"You gonna cum for me, kitten? Milk my cock with that pussy?"

"M-Mhm--"

"Ah ah, words."

"Ye-Yes!"

"Yeah?" Minho just continued, hitting your spots inside of you harder. Pressing and prodding, making your body tremble. "Go ahead, gorgeous...cum."

And that's exactly what you did. You cried out, your body officially squirming as your pussy clenched. You gripped the sheets, feeling Minho slow down enough to ease you down from your high before pulling out and flipping you over to climb up your body. And as you calmed down, you were met with his dick in your face. The same dick that you didn't hesitate to suck on once more, looking up at Minho with desperate eyes.

"That's it, good girl...fuck, cleaning me off after making you cum so good...!" Minho groaned loudly, holding your head up as you let him fuck your throat once more. Thankfully, Minho had already been close from fucking you, and so it didn't take long for him to reach his climax. "Fuck fuck fuck...cumming!"

And like that, you whimpered as you felt his cum go down your throat, swallowing what you could. Your hands went to Minho's thighs, grasping onto him to keep him close before feeling him calm down. And once he was done, you fell back, panting softly.

Minho watched, smiling softly as he went to lean down and kiss your forehead, straightening your cat ears and wiping your lips before kissing them, happy with your performance.

"That's my good girl...let's get you cleaned up now, yeah?" As Minho helped you sit up, you nodded, smiling weakly to him. "Alright...I'll go and get you some water. And after that, I'll get you a bath and we can just sit and soak, alright pretty?"

You nodded again, feeling nothing but love and satisfaction. There was no doubt about it...you definitely got Minho to relieve that stress he had.

And you couldn't be happier to see him so happy.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

Taglist: @miss-daisy04 @kayleefriedchicken @wolfs-archive @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @wolfs-howling @rose-w-00-d @skzlover24

[inseobts]

I Hate Goodbyes

law × fem!reader

you're luffy’s sister, and after the tragedy at marineford, you join the heart pirates to heal and grow stronger during the two-year wait—but what happens when you start to fall for law, and neither of you knows how to say goodbye?

a/n: btw I have a similar one you might like too if you didn't read it yet 'tides of fate' (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

words count: 7.1k

tags: marineford spoilers, angst and fluff, hurt and comfort, marineford aftermath, protective reader, slow burn, healing

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The battlefield smells like blood and burning.

You stumble through the wreckage, heart pounding so loud it drowns everything out. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. You saw Ace falling, the hole in his chest, the way Luffy screamed like his soul got torn away.

You try to grab Luffy’s arm, but he’s already out cold. Broken.

“Lu! Luffy, come on, stay with me!” you cry, shaking him. His body is limp. His skin is hot, burning with fever and blood.

You fall to your knees beside him, useless, shaking, trying to wake your baby brother who doesn’t even hear you anymore.

Then, a voice, sharp, calm, cutting through the chaos “I’ll take him.”

You look up, eyes wide and wild. A man with dark hair and tattoos crouches beside Luffy. His gaze flicks to you quick, judging, but not unkind.

“You coming too?” he asks simply.

You don’t even think. You tighten your grip on Luffy and nod, tears blinding you.

“Please… Please don’t let him die” you whisper, voice cracking.

He nods once “Trafalgar Law. Captain. Now move.”

His crew surrounds you. You cling to Luffy as the door of the submarine slams shut, cutting off the nightmare behind you.

Amazon Lily is too bright. Too loud. Even the clean air hurts.

You sit beside Luffy’s bed, knees pulled to your chest, staring blankly at the wall. You barely notice the Heart Pirates moving around, whispering and working.

Days pass. Maybe weeks.

Sometimes you touch Luffy’s hand, just to make sure he’s alive.

Sometimes you dream of Ace’s last smile, and wake up gasping, your throat raw from silent screams.

One night, you sit in the hallway outside the infirmary, shivering even though the air is warm.

Footsteps approach. Then Law’s voice, low and firm “You can’t stay like this.”

You don’t answer. You keep your eyes on your hands, wishing you were stronger. Faster. Smarter.

He crouches beside you. His presence is steady, not pushing you but not leaving either.

“You fought to get him here,” Law says “You’re not useless.”

You laugh, but it’s a broken sound “Feels like I am.”

He sits down beside you, arms resting on his knees. His voice drops even softer.

“When he’s ready, Straw Hat’s going to train. Two years. Away from everyone.”

Your stomach twists painfully “I can’t leave him.”

“You don’t have to,” Law says. His eyes are sharp, cutting right through you “You’ll train too. Learn medicine. Herbs. Whatever you already know, I’ll teach you more.”

You finally lift your head to look at him. His expression is calm, but his eyes are serious.

“You mean it?” you ask, voice small.

“I don’t offer things I don’t mean” Law says. There’s the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth “You’re stubborn. You’ll fit right in.”

Later that night, you sit quietly beside Luffy’s bed. He’s awake now, barely, his body weak but his spirit burning stubborn as ever.

Law is sitting a little distance away, pretending not to listen but not going far either.

Luffy’s voice is hoarse when he speaks “You’re gonna train too, right?”

You blink “Luffy, I—”

He grabs your hand weakly, squeezing with what little strength he has. His eyes are serious, more serious than you’ve ever seen them.

“I’m gonna get stronger” he says, voice trembling a little “Strong enough to protect everyone. I’m gonna find my crew again. I’m gonna be Pirate King.”

Your throat tightens.

“But I need you too,” Luffy says. His hand squeezes yours tighter “You gotta get stronger too. So you can protect yourself. So you can sail with me.”

You feel tears welling up again, but you bite them back.

“I will,” you whisper “I’ll train. I’ll learn. I’ll get strong enough… strong enough to protect myself. Strong enough to protect you too, Luffy”

Luffy smiles, even though it hurts “I’ll be waitin’ for you.”

You lean your forehead against his hand, your heart aching with love and hope and fear all at once.

“I promise,” you whisper “I’ll come back stronger.”

A few feet away, Law watches silently. He doesn’t say anything. But for the first time in a long while, you feel something steady beneath your feet, like maybe, somehow, you’ll be okay.

The Heart Pirates welcome you in without questions.

Bepo brings you tea. Shachi and Penguin joke around loudly to make you smile. Even Jean Bart nods at you sometimes when you pass him in the hall.

You try to smile back. You try to act normal. You try so, so hard.

In the daytime, you throw yourself into studying. Law gives you heavy books, scrolls, and old medical charts. He shows you how to grind herbs, how to recognize poisons, how to stitch a wound without shaking.

“Again,” he says calmly when your fingers fumble “Until it’s second nature.”

You nod. You always nod. You’re determined.

You even start making your own little mixes, salves for bruises, sleeping powders (not that you dare take them yourself), small bombs made from herbs and oils.

“You’re like a damn witch” Penguin laughs one afternoon, watching you stir a smoking green liquid in a jar.

You snort “Better than being useless.”

Law watches from the corner of the room, arms crossed, saying nothing.

At night, though, everything falls apart.

You can’t sleep. Every time you close your eyes, you see Ace falling. You hear Luffy screaming. You feel the helplessness crushing your chest until you can’t even breathe.

You jerk awake gasping, heart slamming against your ribs, your clothes sticking to you with cold sweat.

You curl up on your bunk, pressing your fists over your face, trying not to cry out.

You think no one notices.

You’re wrong.

One night, after another nightmare rips you out of sleep, you stumble out of your room, trying to catch your breath. You sit on the cold metal floor of the hallway, pressing your back against the wall.

“Nightmare?”

The voice makes you jump.

You look up. Law stands a few feet away, arms folded, leaning against the wall. His face is calm as always, but his eyes… his eyes are softer. Sadder.

You wipe your face quickly “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t move. Just looks at you for a long moment.

“You’re a terrible liar” he says finally.

You let out a shaky laugh “Thanks.”

Silence stretches between you.

“You’re not weak for hurting” Law says after a while, voice low “Pain doesn’t disappear just because you pretend it’s gone.”

You swallow hard. Something cracks in your chest.

“I lost him,” you whisper “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t save him. I just watched, just like with Sabo.”

Law’s jaw tightens slightly. He walks closer, slow, like he’s giving you time to push him away if you want.

“You did everything you could” he says “Sometimes… that’s just not enough but doesn't mean you did something wrong.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the rough edge in his voice.

“You talk like you’ve lost someone too” you say, almost without thinking.

His mouth tightens into a thin line. For a second, he doesn’t answer.

Then he says quietly, “Yeah.”

Another silence, heavier this time.

You hug your knees to your chest “It hurts. It hurts so much.”

Law kneels down in front of you. Close, but not touching.

“I know” he says simply.

And somehow, that’s the first thing that makes you feel less alone.

From that night on, things change.

Law still trains you hard. Still corrects your mistakes with sharp words and steady hands. But sometimes, when he catches you zoning out, lost in memories, he’ll tap the table sharply to pull you back. Sometimes, when the nightmares get really bad, you’ll find a cup of calming tea left outside your door. No note. No explanation.

You never say thank you and he never asks for it, but you both know.

Slowly, painfully, you start stitching yourself back together.

One day, you swear, you’ll be strong enough to protect what you love. And this time you won’t lose.

Days turn into weeks.

You spend most of your time training, reading, studying, practicing stitches, memorizing herbs. You work until your hands cramp and your head pounds.

One afternoon, you sit on the deck of the Polar Tang, grinding dried leaves into powder. Your hair is a mess, your fingers stained green, but you don’t care. You’re focused.

Law watches you for a while from the stairs, arms crossed.

“You’re learning fast” he says finally.

You look up, smiling a little “Thanks.”

“But,” he says, walking closer, “the Straw Hats already have a doctor. From what I know, he is… good.”

You blink. The words sting a little more than you want to admit.

“I’m not trying to replace him” you mumble.

“I know.” Law sits down across from you, setting his sword beside him “That’s why I’m telling you this now that you know enough.”

He taps a finger against the deck, thinking.

“You’re good with herbs. With potions. You’re creative,” he says. His eyes narrow a little, studying you like he’s fitting a puzzle together “What if we move on now and you focus on something that makes you stronger in battle?”

You frown, confused “Like what?”

Law leans back against the wall, looking almost lazy but you can tell he’s serious.

“Potions. Weapons. Transfiguration, even” he says calmly “You could craft poisons. Healing salves. Smokescreens. Maybe even weapons that change shape. Things nobody expects.”

You stare at him, heart thudding faster.

“You mean… like a battle witch?” you say half-joking.

Law smirks, just a little “If that’s what you want to call it.”

You stare down at your hands. It feels scary. Different. But also… right.

Something you can be. Not just following in Luffy’s shadows. Your own strength.

“I want to try” you say, voice steady.

Law nods once “Good. Then we start tomorrow.”

You blink “That fast?”

“Battlefields don’t wait,” Law says, standing up “Neither should you.”

He pauses for a second. His voice drops softer “You have potential. Don’t waste it.”

Before you can even answer, he’s already walking away, coat swishing behind him.

You sit there, stunned. Excited. Terrified.

And for the first time since Marineford, you feel something else, too... hope.

And then training starts again, and as hard as always.

Law doesn’t go easy on you just because you’re still healing. If anything, he pushes you harder, drilling you on herbs that can paralyze, potions that heal faster, even how to throw small smoke bombs to cover retreats.

“You can’t just make things,” he says one day, hands folded behind his back “You have to use them. In real time. No hesitation.”

You nod, teeth gritted.

The first mission comes faster than you expect.

A small island. A skirmish. A cargo pickup gone wrong.

You cling to the sides of the Polar Tang as it surfaces just offshore. Your stomach twists with nerves, but you press a hand to the little pouch of potions at your belt.

“You ready, Witch?” Penguin teases, grinning.

Law calls you that sometimes too now “Witch”.

At first it annoyed you.

Now… when Law says it, it almost sounds fond.

You push the thought away “Let’s go” you say, voice steady.

In the fight, everything you practiced crashes into reality.

You duck under a sword swing, whip a vial of sleeping powder at the enemy’s face. It explodes in a soft green puff, the man drops like a rock.

You barely have time to breathe before another rushes you.

Your heart races. You fumble for another potion, a heavier one before a blur of blue and steel slices the air.

Law steps between you and the attacker, katana flashing. In one smooth motion, he drops the enemy without even blinking.

“You’re still slow,” he says coolly, glancing at you “Fix that.”

Your face burns “I’m trying!”

But later, when the battle is over and everyone’s tending to scrapes and bruises, Law walks by you, pausing just long enough to murmur “Good instincts.”

You blink.

You don’t answer, but your heart skips anyway.

Weeks pass.

Your skills sharpen. Your hands move quicker, your ideas flow faster. You make small grenades from seaweed oil. Healing sprays that numb pain instantly. Distraction bombs that flash bright colors.

Law watches you more often now, from across rooms, over the tops of books, during training drills.

At first you think you’re imagining it. Until one day, after you bandage a wound on his arm, quick, clean and professional, and Law looks at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“You’re not the same person you were when you got here” he says.

You smile faintly “Neither are you.”

His mouth quirks, just slightly, like he wants to smile but doesn’t know how.

You notice stupid things now, the way his hair falls into his eyes when he’s tired, the rare rasp of laughter when Bepo does something ridiculous, the low, calm hum of his voice when he explains something complicated just to make sure you understand.

You hate it.

You hate that your chest tightens when he stands too close.

You hate that you look forward to hearing him call you “Witch”.

You hate it because caring about people hurts. You already know how that story ends.

One night, you sit alone on the deck, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the stars. The ocean is quiet. The world feels… less heavy.

You hear footsteps behind you, soft and careful.

Law sits down beside you without asking.

For a long time, neither of you speaks. Then, he says, voice low “You’re still not sleeping.”

It’s not a question.

You close your eyes “Neither are you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, a real smile this time, small and tired “Touché.”

You breathe in the salty air, heart beating way too fast.

It feels dangerous, but somehow, it feels okay.

Maybe caring doesn’t have to mean losing. Maybe sometimes, it means surviving together.

Months pass.

The Polar Tang feels like home now. The crew jokes with you. Bepo brings you your favorite tea without asking. Jean Bart lets you win at cards sometimes even though he’s terrible at hiding it.

And Law is still Law. Sharp words. Quiet stares. But sometimes, when you pass by each other in the narrow halls, your shoulders brush and neither of you moves away.

One afternoon, you’re hunched over a workbench deep in the ship. Herbs, powders, pieces of metal, tiny vials, all scattered in front of you. Your latest project.

“You’ve been sitting there for hours.”

You jolt, almost dropping your vial. Law stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable look again.

“I’m working on something” you say, defensive.

Law walks closer, glancing over your shoulder.

You bite your lip, a little embarrassed. On the table is a rough design of a kind of weapon. A bracelet lined with tiny hidden capsules you can trigger during battle, potions for healing, poison, smoke bombs, even flash bursts.

“Smart,” Law says, surprising you “Lightweight. Quick access.”

You blink up at him “You really think so?”

He leans in a little closer, studying the rough sketches. His shoulder brushes yours, warm through the thin fabric.

“You could stabilize the capsules with resin,” he murmurs, half to himself “Faster activation. Less chance of them breaking accidentally.”

You nod quickly, grabbing a pen, scribbling notes.

Law watches you work for a second. Then he pulls something out of his pocket and sets it on the table, a small silver clasp, shaped like a skull.

You look at it, confused.

“Found it last mission,” he says. His voice is almost… shy “Figured you could use it. For the bracelet.”

Your throat tightens.

It’s nothing. Just a small piece of scrap metal.

But it’s from him.

You swallow the lump in your throat and pick it up carefully.

“Thank you” you whisper.

Law shrugs like it’s no big deal. But when you glance up, you catch him looking at you, in a way that looks like you’re something rare and breakable and important all at once.

You force yourself to smile “If you keep being this nice, people are gonna think you like me or something.”

It’s a joke. A stupid, nervous joke.

Law’s eyes flash and for a second, just a second, you see something real. But he only smirks, tilting his head “Guess I’ll have to be meaner, then.”

You laugh real, loud, from your gut. And for once, the sound doesn’t feel heavy.

Later that night, you finish the bracelet.

It fits perfectly around your wrist, it's light, strong, deadly.

Yours.

You stand on the deck alone, letting the sea breeze whip through your hair.

Your fingers trace the little silver skull at the clasp. A gift. A promise.

And for the first time, you don’t just feel like someone who survived. You feel like someone who’s becoming.

Eight months.

That’s how long it’s been since Marineford. Since you left Luffy on the beach and promised you’d come back stronger.

You’re not there yet. But you’re close.

Your potions work. Your body is faster. Your mind sharper. You’ve learned how to move through chaos and how to survive it.

Your new mission’s supposed to be simple. Quick trade. Neutral island. In and out. Of course, it goes to hell.

A double-cross. Gunfire. Mercenaries.

You fight your way through smoke, throwing a blinding bomb at the enemy, your bracelet hissing softly as it dispenses the next ready capsule.

It’s working until you hear a gunshot too close.

You whip around just in time to see Law drop to one knee, clutching his shoulder.

Your heart stops.

“Law!”

You run to him, potion already in hand, shoving it into the wound before he can even argue “Don’t move—just let me—dammit, don’t move!”

He grabs your wrist, tight, to steady you “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine!” Your voice cracks “You’re bleeding!”

He watches you, not with pain, but surprise.

You never yell at him like this. Not even during training. But something about seeing him hurt, even a little, rips through you like fire.

You help him to cover. Bepo and the others push the enemy back, and soon it’s over but your hands are still shaking.

Later, back on the ship, the crew patches up the rest of their injuries.

You sit beside Law in the infirmary, cleaning blood from his coat.

Penguin strolls in and drops onto a stool beside you “Not bad back there, Witch. You actually looked kind of cool.”

You raise a brow, smirking “Kind of?”

He grins “Don’t get cocky.”

You snort and keep cleaning. But out of the corner of your eye, you catch Law quietly watching. His jaw a little tight.

He says nothing but you kind of feel the shift in the air.

Two days after the fight, you’re in the engine room mixing new compounds.

Penguin walks in, grinning as usual "Need a taste tester, Witch?"

You don’t even look up "Unless you wanna grow gills or pass out for an hour, I’d wait."

He laughs and leans against the counter "Still impressive, though. The way you protected Law back there."

You pause, hands tightening around the vial you’re holding.

"He’s the captain," you say flatly "I wasn’t gonna let him bleed out in the dirt."

“Still,” Penguin says “You were… intense. I think he even let you yell at him.”

You finally look up, frowning.

Then movement at the door. Law. He’s standing just outside the room, arms crossed. Listening. Watching.

You don’t know how long he’s been there. He doesn’t speak. Just turns on his heel and walks away.

Later that night, you find him alone in the medbay, reviewing some notes.

"You good?" you ask softly.

He doesn’t look up "Fine."

You hesitate "You sure?"

He finally glances at you. His voice is cool, not cruel, just... distant "As long as no one else is talking about how I was bleeding out in the dirt, yeah."

You blink. Okay. So he did hear that.

You try to shrug it off "Penguin’s just messing around. You know how he is."

Law doesn’t answer.

You stay there a few more seconds, then quietly leave.

The next day, on the island, you’re helping organize supplies when you see Law at a vendor’s table, trading herbs with a woman who keeps laughing too loudly at everything he says.

He doesn’t laugh back. But he doesn’t walk away either.

You feel something twist in your chest. You force yourself to smile, to turn back to your work.

Later, when he joins the crew again, you barely meet his eyes.

"You okay?" he asks, voice even.

"Yeah" you lie.

What the hell is happening to you?

That night, you lie awake in your bunk, staring at the ceiling.

You keep replaying the moment Penguin made that comment. The way Law left without a word. The way he stood near that woman. The fact that none of this should matter but it does.

Like why lately you notice things you never noticed before. Like why does it matter to you if a woman flirt with him?

You press your hand to your chest, right where your bracelet rests against your skin.

You don’t know what this feeling is.

You just know you can’t let it grow.

Across the ship, in his own room, Law stares at a half-written report.

He can’t stop thinking about the way you laughed with Penguin. The way you avoided his eyes afterward. The shift in your voice.

He tells himself it’s nothing. He tells himself you’ll be gone in a year anyway.

Still… he closes the report and doesn’t sleep at all.

One year and three months.

You’re stronger now. Faster. Sharper. You know how to fight, how to mix, how to survive.

You’ve lived through storms and gunfire. You’ve taken lives, and you’ve saved them too.

But sometimes, the past doesn’t care how strong you are.

Sometimes it sneaks in when you least expect it.

You’re sitting in the Polar Tang’s storage room, sorting herbs by scent. It’s a quiet job. A repetitive one. Usually it calms you.

Not today.

A smell hits you, one of the dried plants from a southern island. Strong. Burnt. Familiar.

You freeze.

Because it smells like Ace’s coat. The one he used to throw over you when you were cold. The one that always carried smoke and fire and sun.

Your hands stop moving.

Your chest aches like it did that day on the battlefield.

You press your palms over your face. Try to breathe.

You can’t.

You leave the room without thinking. Stumble down the hallway. Find the old supply closet and slip inside, shut the door, slide to the floor. And then you’re crying. Harder than you have in months.

You don’t hear the door open.

But you feel it when someone kneels in front of you.

"Hey" Law says quietly.

You wipe at your face, but your voice still shakes "I’m fine."

He doesn’t answer right away. Just sits beside you. Close, but not touching.

"You’re not."

You swallow hard "It’s stupid. Just a smell. Just—"

"Fire?"

Your head jerks up.

He’s not looking at you. He’s staring ahead, eyes distant.

"It reminded you of your brother" he says.

You nod slowly “It’s been so long. And I still—”

"I know."

You look at him.

And that’s when he says "Corazon… used to smell like gunpowder and old cigars. Not in a bad way. Just… constant. Burned into my memory."

Your heart skips. Because Law never talked to you about Corazon so openly.

You barely breathe.

"I forget his face sometimes," Law says softly “But I never forget that smell.”

The silence after is thick. Full of ghosts.

You sit with it.

Then, quietly, you say, “What happened to him?”

You think he won’t answer but then "He died to save me."

You blink fast, chest twisting "I'm sorry."

Law’s voice is dry "You didn’t do it."

"I know. I just..." You reach up, rub your thumb along your wrist "It hurts, doesn’t it? When someone gives up everything for you. And then they're just… gone."

He doesn’t speak but then you feel his hand, brushing yours. He doesn’t hold it. Doesn’t grip. Just enough to let you know he’s there.

You let your fingers brush back.

Both of you sit there, in the dark and the quiet. Neither of you names the weight in your chest. Or the heat that’s slowly grown between you over the months. The way your breath catches when he’s too close. The way you watch him when he’s not looking. The way you burn when someone else does.

You don’t name it but it’s there, unmistakable.

A minute passes. Maybe five.

Then Law stands.

"You should rest."

You nod, eyes red “You too.”

He steps toward the door. Then pauses.

“You don’t have to forget him,” he says “You just have to keep living.”

Your breath catches.

“Same goes for you” you whisper.

Law doesn’t turn around but you see his hand curl at his side. Tight.

Then he walks out, and the door closes behind him.

One year and six months.

That’s how long it’s been since Marineford.

And you are stronger and sharper.

The crew trusts you. Your skills are unmatched. Even Law lets you take the lead on some missions now.

But underneath all that, something else has grown. You and him, you're close.

He watches your back in battle like it's instinct. You can read the tension in his jaw before he even speaks. You can finish each other's plans before they're spoken.

But there’s a weight behind every shared glance because neither of you says what’s circling in your chest.

And now there’s a clock ticking.

“Four months” you say quietly, looking out over the deck at the open sea.

Law is beside you, leaning against the rail, arms folded.

You don’t look at him when you say it. You can’t.

“I go back to him in four months.”

Law doesn’t reply.

The silence stretches, long and heavy.

You force a smile “You’ll be glad to have the quiet again.”

Still, he says nothing.

Then finally, softly “I won’t.”

You freeze.

He looks ahead. Not at you. Not even close but your heart is pounding now.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything.

The silence between you shifts after that.

He stands closer now. His fingers brush yours more often. Sometimes, his eyes stay on you too long when he thinks you won’t notice. But you notice everything.

That night, you can’t sleep.

Your chest aches like it used to, only it’s not grief for the past this time, it’s for the future. For leaving this ship, this crew... him.

You lie on your side, staring at the dark ceiling. And just like before, when you’re about to drown in it there’s a knock.

Soft.

Rhythmic.

You already know who it is.

You don’t say anything. Just open the door.

Law stands there. Still in his coat. Still unreadable.

You don’t ask why he came.

You don’t speak.

You just step back and let him in.

He doesn’t touch you.

But he sits on the bed beside you, closer than he ever used to, and he stays for hours.

The two of you say nothing, but in that silence everything hurts, everything burns, because in four months, you leave and neither of you knows how to say don’t go.

You can feel it in the air.

There’s only a month left before you leave the Polar Tang, before you return to Luffy. To the Straw Hats. To the promise you made.

And everyone knows it.

Bepo watches you with round, quiet eyes whenever you walk into the room.

Shachi and Penguin keep pulling you into games and conversations, laughing a little louder than usual.

Even Ikkaku made you a new satchel for your potion tools with stitched initials and everything.

You feel it in the little things.

The way they hover when you pack.

The way Bepo asks if you’ll remember them.

The way Shachi elbows you and says, "Don’t get too famous without us."

They’re hurting but they’re making room for your goodbye.

All of them... except him.

Law has gone suddently cold.

Gone are the long silences in your room. Gone are the late-night conversations, the tea he used to make when he thought you weren’t sleeping.

Gone is the warmth.

Now it’s curt nods. Dismissed glances. Command-voice only.

He walks past you in the halls like you’re already gone, and you hate it so much it makes your hands shake.

You try to bring it up. Carefully.

Sitting at the dinner table with the crew, twirling your fork through your food.

“Hey,” you say “Is something going on with Law?”

The table stiffens.

Shachi and Penguin suddenly become fascinated with their soup.

Bepo clears his throat.

“What do you mean?” Bepo asks, too lightly.

“I mean he’s acting weird,” you say, eyes scanning them “He won’t even look at me. Did I do something?”

“No! No, of course not” Shachi says quickly.

“Maybe he’s just busy” Penguin adds.

You narrow your eyes “You’re all lying.”

Ikkaku chimes in “You’re imagining it.”

But they can’t even hold your gaze.

You drop your fork and lean back.

Something is wrong.

That night, you find him in the medbay.

Again.

Head bent over papers he doesn’t need to read. Same ones as last week. Maybe the week before.

“Hey...” you say, stepping inside.

He doesn’t look up.

You close the door behind you.

“You’re avoiding me.”

“No I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me, Law. You haven’t looked at me in a week.”

“I’ve been working.”

“Bullshit.”

His eyes flick up, sharp.

You take a breath and step closer “Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re pretending I’m already gone.”

“You are going.”

The words slam into your chest.

“I’m still here now.”

“But you won’t be.”

Your voice rises “That doesn’t mean you get to treat me like I’m nothing!”

“I’m trying to make it easier.”

“For who? You?! Because it sure as hell isn’t easier for me!”

“I can’t—” He stops. Swallows.

And then, low, rough “I can’t do this.”

“Do what, Law?” your voice still high.

He finally looks at you and you wish he hadn’t.

His eyes are full of things you don’t understand.

“You’re going back...” he says “To your brother. To your captain. To your real crew.”

"And? These were the plans."

And for the first time since you met him, Law yells... and he yells someting you would have never expected “I’m gonna lose you!”

You freeze.

For you it just doesn’t make sense.

“...I’m not yours to lose.”

The words hang in the air like a slap.

You regret them the second they leave your mouth. But he’s already moving.

Crossing the space between you in two steps, fast and wild and furious, and then his hands are in your hair, his mouth on yours. And your world stops.

The kiss isn’t sweet.

It’s desperate. Like a dam finally cracking after months under pressure. His hands tremble as they hold your face, lips crashing against yours like he needs this to breathe.

You don’t think.

You kiss him back, full of every ache, every longing, every unanswered question.

You grip his coat, pull him closer. Your chest presses to his. Your heart feels like it’ll break through your ribs.

And when he finally pulls away, he looks at you like he’s ruined everything.

His voice is barely a whisper “I’m sorry.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

You’re stunned. Breathless. Heart raw.

So he turns and leaves and you just let him.

It’s been four days since he kissed you.

Four days since his hands were in your hair.

Four days since his mouth was on yours like it was the only way he could speak. And he’s pretending it never happened.

You tried to wait. To give him time. To breathe. To be patient even though your heart won’t stop pounding every time he walks into a room.

But every time he does, it’s like it never happened.

He’s back to clinical, sharp, captain-mode.

“You missed a measurement in this report.”

“Meet me on deck in fifteen.”

“Test batch needs refinement.”

Not a single glance. Not a crack in his voice. And it’s killing you.

Even the crew notices.

Bepo watches you with big worried eyes.

Shachi looks like he wants to say something every time Law leaves the room, but never does.

Penguin just sighs.

You try to keep it together, you really do... until the fifth day.

You find him alone in the engine room, hunched over blueprints. Your stomach turns, but you step forward anyway.

“Law” you say, soft but steady.

He doesn’t look up “What?”

You stare at the back of his head “You’re really gonna act like nothing happened?”

Silence.

He slowly rolls up the blueprint “I don’t know what you mean.”

A hot, bitter laugh escapes you “Unbelievable.”

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start?” Your voice rises “You kissed me, didn't you Trafalgar? You kissed me like I was the last person on earth, and now you won’t even look at me!”

He sets the paper down. His back still to you “It was a mistake.”

Your throat tightens.

“A mistake...” you repeat.

He finally turns, face blank. But his eyes are just dead and cold, like he’s trying to kill something inside.

You step forward “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pretend I imagined it.”

“I don’t have time for—”

“Stop lying.”

Your voice cracks “I’m leaving in three weeks, and you’d rather throw all of this away than be honest with me.”

“You’re leaving,” he growls “What’s the point in—”

“So what?! So you’d rather throw away everything we are than admit it hurts?”

He says nothing.

Your hands are shaking. Your chest heaves “I know what that kiss meant. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

You’re close now. Too close. And still he won’t look at you.

So you whisper “…Did it really mean nothing to you?”

He finally looks at you and his mask slips just for a second.

Something flashes in his eyes, something like pain, regret and fear, and you see it, but then it’s gone, and his jaw hardens.

“I’m your captain,” he says, voice low “That’s all.”

You feel like the floor falls out beneath you.

“Right...” you whisper “Of course.”

You turn but stop right in front of the door and without turning to look at him you just say "Honestly? Fuck you."

You open the door and leave.

He doesn’t stop you.

The morning you’re supposed to leave is quiet. Too quiet.

Even the sea feels like it’s holding its breath.

You stand on the dock with your bag slung over one shoulder and your coat hanging heavy on your back. The same coat Bepo helped you patch up. The same bag filled with tonics, vials, and handmade notebooks stuffed with training notes.

You’ve done what you came here to do.

You’ve kept your promise to Luffy.

You’ve survived. You’ve grown.

And still, your heart is aching like it’s being pulled in two.

The crew is gathered to see you off.

Bepo’s ears droop “Write us.”

Shachi holds out a charm he carved, a tiny wooden whale “For luck.”

Penguin hugs you a little too tight and mutters “We’ll miss you.”

Even Ikkaku pulls you in and ruffles your hair with a forced smile.

They all know what this is. What it feels like to say goodbye to someone who became more than just crew.

But still, they try to send you off with warmth.

They all do... except him.

Law isn’t there. Not on the dock. Not by the ramp. Not even watching from the shadows like he usually does.

You glance toward the ship. Empty.

He’s really not coming...

It stings worse than you thought it would.

You pretend it doesn’t. You keep your smile steady. You hug Bepo one last time, gripping him tight like he’s the last safe thing left in the world. And then you step forward toward the small boat waiting for you.

The one that'll take you to Sabaody Archipelago so that the Heart Pirates don't have to change their route.

You’re two steps from the ramp.

And then “Wait.”

Your breath catches.

You turn and there he is.

Law stands at the edge of the dock, coat billowing in the sea breeze, expression unreadable but eyes unmistakably wrecked.

Your heart punches into your ribs.

You don’t move.

Neither does he.

So you speak first. Voice soft “You weren’t going to come.”

“I wasn’t” he admits.

Silence.

“Changed your mind?” you ask, half a smile, half a plea.

He doesn't answer that. Just walks closer until he’s a few feet away. Not touching distance but too close to pretend you’re strangers.

He looks at you like he's memorizing every inch.

You want to cry but you don’t, even though your eyes are so full that your vision is all blurry.

“You came to say goodbye?” you ask.

“No.”

His voice is rough. Not angry. Raw.

“I came to say I hate this.”

You blink.

“I hate that you’re leaving. I hate that you’re not staying. I hate that I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again.”

Your heart clenches “I’m not dying, Law.”

“But you’re still leaving.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know.”

More silence but the wind is loud. The gulls are louder. But all you can hear is him.

“I don’t want to lose you” he says, eyes locked on yours.

The same words from weeks ago but this time, there’s no mask.

No cold walls.

Just him.

You swallow “You’re not.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not—"

“I don’t know how else to say it,” he snaps suddenly, and his voice cracks “As you said you’re not mine, and you never were, but I... I still...”

He cuts himself off.

And you’re shaking.

The words hover between you. Unfinished. Alive.

Your throat is tight “I never said I wanted to leave you behind.”

“You’re going back to him. To your new crew with your brother. That’s where your place is.”

“And where’s my heart supposed to go?”

The question spills out before you can stop it.

And that’s it. That’s what breaks him.

He steps forward. Hands trembling, eyes burning.

He grabs your face, not hard, but desperate, and presses his forehead to yours like he’s praying.

“I don’t know what this is,” he breathes “But it hurts.”

You’re crying now. Quietly.

“I don’t know either,” you whisper “But I think I’ll miss you so much it might kill me.”

He pulls you in, arms wrapping around you, burying his face into your shoulder. And for the first time in two years, Trafalgar Law lets himself hold you.

He holds you like he’s trying to burn the shape of you into his bones.

No kiss.

No promises.

Just the truth in the silence between your heartbeats.

And when you finally pull away, when the ship horn calls, when the wind rises again, he lets you go.

Not because he wants to. But because he has to.

You step on the boat.

The ramp is pulled up and you see the crew waving. And you see him still there, still watching.

And you think, I’ll see you again.

No matter what.

You will.

The boat begins to move.

Too slowly.

Too quickly.

Too final.

You're still facing the dock, still watching Law, frozen where you left him. Stoic. Silent.

The others wave. Bepo wipes his nose. Shachi keeps yelling “We love you, stay alive!” while Penguin shushes him with red ears.

But Law doesn’t wave.

He just stands there.

Like if he moves, he’ll lose whatever last piece of you he’s clinging to.

And then you feel it in your chest. That you can't go like this. That he needs more than silence. And so do you.

So you do something impulsive.

Something wildly you.

You cup your hands to your mouth and scream “LAW!”

Heads arount there all turn. The crew jolts. Even Bepo flinches.

But Law lifts his head. Eyes wide.

And you yell again, urgent and fierce and blazing “COME HERE—HURRY!”

He doesn’t ask why, doesn’t think.

He just runs.

For the first time anyone on his crew has ever seen, Trafalgar D. Water Law runs, coat flying, sword swinging on his hip, boots pounding against the dock.

Penguin blurts, “Holy shi—he’s running?!”

Even Bepo looks speechless.

Law reaches the edge just as the boat’s still close enough.

You’re at the railing, knees on the side, hand reaching.

He gets close.

You grab him.

Fist clenched in the collar of his coat, you pull him upward just enough and you kiss him. Fast. Fierce. Final.

You kiss him like it’s the last thing you’ll remember. And he doesn’t hesitate. Not this time.

His hands find your arms, just briefly. But you’re already pulling back, already slipping away as the boat starts to rise off the waterline.

His fingers curl at his sides like he’s trying not to reach again.

You’re breathless, flushed, beaming.

You cup your hands again.

“I’ll come back!” you shoutn“Wait for me, I promise!”

His lips part, chest rising. He doesn’t say anything but you see it in his eyes, that he believes you.

You grin wildly, tug your coat tighter, and shout one last thing “Break it!”

You point at his jacket where your hand was.

He looks down slowly.

Fingers brush his collar. Something’s there.

A small orb. Light, palm-sized, sealed with your initials carved faintly into the surface.

He narrows his eyes then snaps it.

A puff of smoke bursts out instantly, curling into the air in a soft spiral. The wind brushes it aside…

And inside, where the smoke clears a charm. Small. Handmade.

It’s a tiny glass bottle. Inside it, dried blue bell petals, the same flowers from that island you said reminded you of Ace.

The same ones you once said helped you sleep.

Around the neck of the bottle is a black thread.

A single word carved on a tin tag looped around it “Love”.

Law stares.

No one says anything.

Bepo swallows loudly “…She gave him a charm?”

Shachi whispers, “He’s gonna wear it under his coat, I bet."

But Law doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move.

He just stands there, charm in hand, watching your boat fade into the distance.

Watching until he can’t see you anymore.

And only then, he allows himself to close his eyes and hold the charm to his heart.

[beenbaanbuun]

guard dog pt.3 w/ jeong yunho

merry christmas!!!!

now, you understand that yunho is big; much bigger than yourself, in fact

what, with his obnoxious height, shoulders as broad as the amazon, and thick fluffy tail that sticks out like a rod behind him, he basically dwarfs you!

that doesn’t mean he should have access to your whole fucking bed though

you can feel the lip of the mattress digging into your thigh, a warning that if you shift even just an inch to the right, you’ll end up on the hardwood floor instead

but with a firm chest of a sleeping hybrid pressed up to your spine, it’s hardly like you have the space to move

it’s been like this for a whole week now, since the first day he barged into your life at the not-so-helpful hands of mingi, and sleep has been more than difficult to come by

so much so that your mood has taken a significant hit

it’s not like you were exactly happy about your new situation anyway, but right now, as you face down another sleepless night, you’re practically livid

although even that word doesn’t feel right to describe the emotion that sits deep in your chest

something big that churns in your heart, fluttering and stuttering each and every time you see his annoyingly handsome face

every time his sleep-filled breaths flutter against your ears

every time he drags you impossibly close to his body with the strong arm he has draped over your waist…

fuck, you hate him

and you hate how he makes you feel

“shift,” you grumble as you unhook his hand from where it sits on the flesh of your stomach for the umpteenth time tonight, “get on your side of the bed.”

there’s silence as you push at the solid mass of flesh behind you

he really is an unmovable object

“yunho, i swear i’m going to-”

you squirm, wriggling carefully in place until you’re able to flip your body over

until yunho’s warm breath is fluttering against your face instead of the back of your head

and his warm brown eyes are staring into your own

of course the fucker is awake

“why are you tossing and turning, pup?” god, you wish you could swipe that smirk off of his face

it’s as annoying as it is handsome, and you despise the way it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach

butterflies of hatred… obviously…

“shove it, mutt,” you growl as your fist pushes against his chest

it’s solid, like you’re pushing against a brick wall, and it moves your body more than it moves his

a gasp leaves your lips as you feel the mattress disappear from beneath you, but yunho’s wandering hands seem to work quicker than the gravity that pulls you down

they scoop you back up and into his chest, returning you to exactly the same position you were in not moments before

only this time, you can smell the warmth of the cinnamon his skin seems to radiate, and it takes all the strength you have not to melt into it

not for any reason other than the fact he smells nice, of course; homely, like fresh cookies on a cold winter’s morning

it’s a cold winter morning right now, the sick temptress that lives inside your brain whispers to you, and yunho smells so good

not to mention the warmth that radiates from him in soft waves

if it weren’t for that cocky smile, perhaps you’d give in to the strange desire to be close to him, but as it stands, you’d rather die than give him the satisfaction

“get on your side of the bed before i—”

he cuts you off with a sly chuckle that sends a shiver right down your spine

“before you what, pup?”

there’s a certain gruffness to his voice that’s only really noticeable when he’s first woken up

a low growl that reminds you of a dog getting his ear scratched in a way that makes his eyes fall closed and his back leg flutter

it’s cute, in a strange way

insufferably hot too

“before i force you over there, shithead!”

but you’ve already tried that once, and all that happened was this; you, held to yunho’s chest like you’re every bit the pup he claims you are

“and end up on the floor?” he hums, “i won’t catch you a second time, y’know? if you want to be away from me that badly, who am i to stop you?”

piece. of. shit

you scowl at him with as much mirth as you can muster

eyes narrowed, brow furrowed, an angry little pout on your plush lips

you hardly feel intimidating, but it’s all you can muster in your sleepy state

hopefully it’s enough to put him in his place…

“what’s that?” he chuckles, cocky smile turning into a bright grin

it illuminates his face in a way that you haven’t seen before, the corners of his eyes crinkling in genuine joy

it’s a stark contrast from the regular nonchalance or disinterest he wears between the flashes of irritating mockery

you hate how much more handsome it makes him look, if that’s even possible

“what’s what?” your scowl deepens

“that!” he nods his head to you, as though gesturing to your face, “your expression! it’s cute~”

“it’s intimidating,” you argue, and he laughs so hard that his head tips back

“if that’s what you call intimidating, then you need me more than i thought possible.”

then he says your name

your real name

and you haven’t heard it from his lips since the first day you met him, when he showed up at your door unannounced and uninvited

it’s funny; you’re sure it didn’t sound this sweet when he first said it

it’s almost like there’s affection hidden somewhere in there

although it’s not so much hidden as it is right there in plain sight, written on the walls, illuminated by the moonlight that shines through the crack in your curtains

“i don’t need you,” it sounds like a lie, although you’re sure it’s not

you‘ve never needed him before, and you certainly don’t now

it doesn’t matter that those kids in the stairwell don’t even look in your direction when yunho is there too, towering over you

or that the pervy cashier that you’ve caught staring at your cleavage more than once daren’t even look you in the eyes with that stupid mutt carrying your basket for you

you don’t need him to carry your basket either; you’re not as weak as you might seem

“uh-huh,” his laughter slowly comes to a stop, and his smile slowly slips away, “but you want me, don’t you?”

no

absolutely not

want him?

you could laugh at just the idea of it

and yet you don’t

the sound gets caught in your throat and your tongue feels like lead in your mouth

you swallow in a desperate attempt to get rid of the lump that seems to be blocking your words, and it works

well… kind of

it works in the sense that it disperses that uncomfortable feeling a little, but instead of denial, all that slips from your mouth is a whine

the sound is as quiet as it is pathetic, but in the silence of night, it might as well have been an ear splitting, wall shaking moan

it’s humiliating, is what it is, but for some reason, yunho acts like he never even heard it

and it’s unlike him, to not take the opportunity to tease you and make you squirm under his unwavering gaze

but in the same vein, as you stare into his uncharacteristically soft irises, it’s the realest you’ve ever seen him

there’s no false bravado shielding his true feelings from you, just like there’s no smarmy, shit-eating smile on his lips making you feel like you’re the pet, not him

this is yunho

and so you say his name in the softest voice you can muster

a sweet little “yunho,” into the cold winter air

but you disregard that, because in here, with yunho’s arms keeping you pressed tightly to his heater of a torso, the chill is the last thing in your mind

“you know,” he whispers back, “those eye bags of yours are getting quite bad, pup.”

it’s back to pup, but for some reason the nickname sounds so much sweeter this time around

“i can’t sleep,” you respond

he hums in acknowledgment as he tightens his grip

“try tonight, okay?” you nod and he smiles, “good girl. i’ll be right here, okay?”

and for the first time, that idea doesn’t seem so bad

in fact, as your heart rate picks up and the butterflies of hatred—well, perhaps not hatred—begin to flutter again, you realise that maybe you don’t quite mind his presence

“i’ll try.”

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝟏-𝟖𝟎𝟎-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐞 .ᐟ

summary — ben isn't willing to learn a lot about new, modern society and it's "made-up" words, but when it comes to you? he wants to finally give it a go.

cw — fem!reader x soldier boy, 18+ smut (mdni / wrap it up), phone/facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), fingering, jerking off, dirty talk, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, good girl, sweetheart, love, angel), daddy kink, self-tasting, swearing.

word count — 2,580 words

during your time babysitting the infamous supe, who had also somehow become your boyfriend, you had fallen into a comfortable routine of teaching each other things about your eras. his lectures talked about the high-roller parties and the actresses he got into scandals with, the golden age of cinema (aka the movies he starred in) and the high passion of a war-torn america. however his lectures soon progressed into how to properly enjoy a good aged whiskey and an assortment of pills.

whilst you diligently spent your time trying to educate and update him on everything he had missed over the past 40 years, or so, in the company of the russians. everything from slang, fashion and popular culture to the most important; how to use the phone and internet. no modern man could function without that and despite how stubborn soldier boy was, to his dismay, you were more. and no matter how much he denied loving it, he really did.

after weeks of pestering him, begging him to let you give him a crash course, he finally agreed. or rather yelled that "if it got you off his fucking case, then he would." so, you started off gently with a flip phone, which you thought couldn't be easier to use. no one breaks a flip phone. except for ben. he grunts and curses as he presses the keys multiple times, his attempt at typing before swiftly breaking the phone in two and chucking it into the corner of his living room with precision.

"the buttons were too fucking small." he defends himself before settling back into the couch and stared at the tv, ignoring the dumbfounded look painted across your face. the next day you skip into the living room with a new gift and smile widely at him as he rips open the packaging and scowls at you as he pulls out the newest smartphone.

"the fuck is this? portable tv? can't watch shit on this fuckin' thing! where would i put in the vhs?" he mumbles as he examines the device before haphazardly throwing it on the kitchen table, where you scramble after it. good thing you had gotten that deal on screen protector and hunters green phone cover, matching ben's suit.

"adapt or die, grandpa." you scoff. "this thing is gonna become your life after i've shown you how to use it." you wave it in his unimpressed face. "you can stream shit on netflix, watch your movie clips on youtube, listen to that awful shit you called music on spotify and, most importantly, order anything right to your door with amazon and uber eats." you pat his head and he swats your hand away before grabbing the phone and frowning at it. he sighs and looks up at you with those puppy eyes that harden under your hopeful grin.

"i don't know fuck about shit or shit about fuck, but what i do know is that those are all made up words." he lowly chuckles, brushing away his bangs.

"oh beeeen..." you sigh and sit down next to him. "listen, you'll be able to call or text me whenever you want." you flutter your eyelashes at him. "send videos... pictures." you trail off, tracing your finger over his veiny arms, hoping he'd get the message. but as he always does, he understands it at face value and just grimaces at you.

"why the fuck would i want that? not some snivellin' pussy who needs to talk to his girl all the time." he scoffs. with that, you snatch the phone away, stuff it in your bag and look back at him with a frown. the rest of the evening, unfortunately for ben, was spent with you giving him the silent treatment as he slowly grovels his way back into your good graces and begrudgingly accepting the smartphone all while you snuggle up to him and explain the ins and outs.

despite your best efforts and loudest protests, you were stuck at home as ben had decided for you that you weren't allowed to put yourself in harms way, not now that you were his girl. thankfully, teaching ben how to use a phone significantly eased your heavy heart when he went away on missions, now you didn't have to rely on butcher to tell you whether or not he was alive, and that prick barely checked his phone to begin with.

you lounged around in ben's signature blue new york giants button up alongside your go-to order for sushi and new girl, your favourite comfort show, blaring on your tv before you settled in for another uneventful evening; whilst ben and the boys got to have all the excitement and fun. as the evening dwindled on after watching god-knows how many episodes and doom scrolling on your phone, you found yourself reaching a new height of boredom and loneliness. you had gotten so used to ben that whenever you had a moment alone, your thoughts wandered to him immediately.

his distinctive earthy scent as he towers over you. your fingers graze over your white cotton underwear as you tease yourself. his cocky smirk as you whine and moan underneath him, at his mercy. you push against your bundle of nerves and you can't help but let a small whimper escape you. the way he fills you like no one else and fucks you like his hunger can't be sated. you slip your fingers under your waistband and lose yourself in the feeling of your fingers delicately rubbing over your needy clit. you hum in pleasure as you let your imagination take over and allow your fingers to explore yourself as you bite into your lip to quieten your whimpers when you quickened your pace.

PING!

"fuck." you groan in annoyance as you pull your hand away from your aching pussy and reach out for your phone. you had been waiting to hear how the mission went from ben and finally, it seemed he had a second to spare for you. you scoff inwardly as your eyes glance over his message, as if you hadn't been waiting anxiously for hours to hear from him and this is what you get.

bennie boo<3: wyd

you: why are you texting me like you're a horny teenage boy and not my boyfriend??? you: try again and maybe i'll actually talk to you

as the grey tick turned to blue, indicating that ben had read your message, you can picture the theatrical way he would roll his eyes and huff at your tone of message and you can't help but giggle.

bennie boo <3: my beautiful princess with a disorder bennie boo <3: talk to me, wyd

"asshole." you whisper to yourself as you knew that ben sent that message with a smug smile plastered across his face, anything to get you riled up. you don your own sly grin as you type truth about what you were doing.

you: touching myself and thinking of u, ofc???

"bennie boo <3" flashes across your phone and you laugh out loud, that man never denied himself of any pleasures and you knew he'd be desperate to see you fall apart for him. you let him suffer for a few seconds, keeping him on his toes as you laid down in your bed, readjusting your top so the valley of your breasts peeked out underneath his top and checking your makeup before answering.

"what took you so fuckin' long?" his rough voice floods your ears and your smile automatically widens.

"i miss you too, ben." you sigh.

"yeah, yeah. whatever, you know i miss you. blah blah." he sighs on the other end. you can hear his bed sheets rustle as he gets comfortable in his motel bed, still wearing his supe-suit trousers and his usual white, tight wife-beater. his shield, guns and supe-suit top were strewn around the room and a 6-pack of warm beer stood unattended on his nightstand.

"how did it go?" you sigh as you mindlessly twirl your hair, imagining your big, tough boyfriend lazily lay on his bed, his strong hands wrapped around his phone and the other around him.

"cut the bullshit." his voice was strained. you had him exactly where you wanted him. it was almost too easy. you shook your head and giggled into your shoulder before feigning ignorance.

"what do you mean, babe? i'm just aski–"

"don't fuckin' make me repeat myself." he interrupts. "touchin' yourself without my permission? you're in some fuckin' trouble, you know that, don't ya sweetheart?" you heard the familiar sound of his zip being pulled down and a soft sigh followed swiftly. "what were ya doin', love? huh? touchin' your pretty pussy and thinking of me?" his tone softens as he coaxes your sins out of you like a trained priest at confessional.

"mhm." is all you can manage as ben's shallow breathing is all you can think about.

"yeah? want to show me how, baby?" he chuckles darkly. before you can answer, you hear him swear and furiously tap on the screen before whispering to himself "which fucking button... motherfuckin' technology." you cover your mouth to hide your laughter, but ben hears and breathes out a tirade of curses as he struggles. you press the camera button and there he was. tired, frustrated and as handsome as ever as he lets his eyes glide from your face down to his top that practically swallowed you up and let out a loud groan. "fuuuuck, baby." he runs his hand over his face, freshening himself up.

"i'm wearing those cute panties you got me, you know. the ones with the lil bow on front." you admit as you tilt your phone down and teasingly pull up the top and reveal them to him. so white and so pure; a contrast to the wet patch that was pooling in them as you watched his tortured face. your fingers dance over the top, fiddling with the bow and circling your clothed clit. you keep your eyes focused on him as you notice his composure falter and his phone slightly shake as he slowly jerks himself off.

"take them off. now." he dictates, his tone rough and his voice hushed. you waste no time in peeling them off, pulling them down your legs and revealing a string of cum between your slick folds and damp underwear. ben sighs heavily as his eyes rest on your needy pussy as it begs for your attention, for your touch. "fuckin' touch yourself for me. show me what you did. be a good girl for daddy, c'mon." you lick the tip of your middle finger before connecting it your yearning clit and rub it in swift and quick circles as you watch ben's lip twitch and his eyes widen with desire. he furiously taps his screen again. tap, tap, tap. followed by a harsh whisper of "how the fuck do i turn this shittin' camera around?!" suddenly, a filter appears over ben's face and a groan, that came from a place of utter exasperation, pulls you out of your pleasure. a loud laughter erupts from you as ben's face had been transformed into a dog's and his anger was only escalating by the second.

"babe," you say through gritted teeth to contain your laughter. "press the left button and then the middle one." you calmly explain, only getting a grunt from ben in return before he turns the camera around and you stop in your tracks. his muscular hand wrapped his already-leaking thick cock, each vein prominent and the tip a deep shade of pink. his experienced fingers graze over his tip and he shudders at his own soft touch before he leisurely rubs it and resumes his iron grip at the base.

"yeah, that fuckin' shut you up, didn't it? cock-hungry whore." he sniffs as he jerks himself off, each stroke slow and calculated. "touch your pussy for daddy, baby. wanna see." your fingers return to your clit and in unison, you both let out pained whimpers as you wish it was one another's hands on your bodies. "how does it feel baby, hm? wish it was daddy's hands instead, don't you?" he spoke with a playful lilt before spitting into his hand and continuing his lazy pace as his piercing gaze watches you toying with your swollen clit.

"yes, daddy. i wish you were here, filling me up. fucking me like the good girl i am." you whine as you unconsciously buck your hips and apply more pressure to the frantic pace on your glossy bundle of nerves.

"good girls don't touch themselves." ben states matter-of-factly.

"daddy," you huff. "i was always thinking of you, though." you snivel as your fingers slowly glide down and slide with ease into your weeping cunt. with a loud moan you push them all the way in and curve them to hit the spot. a tirade of curses tumble past your lips at the sensation.

"so fuckin' dirty, oh my god," ben mutters through a soft exhale. "fuck yourself on those fingers, slut." you thrust them into you at a feverish pace, searching for your much-needed release as ben urges you on, encouraging you. "c'mon, show daddy how much you miss him. show me how wet you are, show me." you pull out your fingers and he marvels at them, covered in your slick. "yeah, baby. put them in your mouth, tell daddy how good you taste." you flip the camera and obediently wrap your lips around your glossy digits, batting your eyelashes at the camera as you suck on them, moaning at the taste.

"god, i taste so good, daddy." you hum around your fingers as your tongue dances over them. "wish you were here to taste me." you pout.

"when daddy comes home, he's gonna fuckin' devour you, baby. just you wait, you won't be able to think straight when i'm done with you." a soft groan tumbles past your lips as your fingers find their way to your entrance and massage themselves against your soft, velvet walls. bens pace picks up and all you can both hear on the line is your muffled whimpers and ben's shallow breathing. as your peak finally draws closer, you throw your head back in pleasure and grimace as your muscles tighten and clench.

"i'm so close..!" you whine.

"cum for me, bab–" ben's voice suddenly cuts off and you whip your head up in surprise. you freeze immediately and drop your phone in disbelief. he forgot to charge his fucking phone, again. you curse under your breath, clean yourself up and grumble in frustration as you turn your attention back to your tv show, unsatisfied. ben, on the other hand, had lost his shit, chucked his phone into the wall and sending it through to the neighbouring room. hughie peeked his head sideways and stared through the phone-shaped hole in his wall at a fuming, half-dressed ben.

"give me your cock-suckin' phone!" ben yells as hughie just stares before slowly nodding and handing it to him through the hole with a hidden smirk. "wipe that smirk off yer fuckin' face, asslicker. i swear to god." ben growls before settling into his bed, typing in your number and waiting impatiently for you. finally, after the third ring he hears your soft voice. "let's finish what we started, angel." he murmurs with a shit-eating grin as you giggle on the other end.

a/n: this is kind of the second part to perv!reader x soldier boy that you guys loved so much <3 HUGE shoutout to @emeraldcrs (ily!!) for the idea, i had so much fun with this and enjoyed making it a bit funny too, hehe -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth (comment or inbox me to be added)