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wheneclipsefalls · 5 months ago

Note

heyy i love ur works sm, could u possibly write a fic like the one you wrote about Lo’ak in Unmoveable, but with Neteyam as the alpha and the reader as the bratty/dominant omega. (Preferably fem reader) Tysm!!

Pairing: Adult Alpha Neteyam x Olangi Princess Omega Reader

Summary: Princess or not, a spoiled brat like you needs to be put in her place. And since you have been given over to him now, Neteyam is more than ready to put that attitude in check.

Warnings: dubcon/noncon, explicit MDNI, aged up Neteyam, omegaverse, dom/sub dynamics. power imbalance, very talkative Neteyam, breast play, nipple clamps, anal, punishment, kidnapping/arranged marriage, swearing, etc.

A/N: Hi anon...you probably thought I was never going to fufill this request😆😅 Hopefully you are still online to see this

Adult Neteyam pic by Cinetrix

Unmovable for reference

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting.” You reply simply, folding your legs upon where you are perched on a nearby boulder.

“Is that so?” One of Neteyam’s hairless brows curves upwards into an unusual expression as he places his hands on his hips. You shrug it off as morphed social skills he has picked up, a consequence of living with Sky People. You don’t let it ruffle your feathers.

“Yes. Soon you will have left and I will finally have some peace before my clan comes to get me.” You supply the information with a tilted chin and confidence oozing from every pore even as the towering alpha closes in on your space.

“Your clan has given you to me, princess.”

You refuse to meet the gaze that somehow manages to penetrate your defenses with a heated fire, contrary to his poised posture that emanates a relaxed grace.

“An oversight on their part.” Your fingers interlock together and place on your lap. If he wants to put on a tough bravado why shouldn’t you? “Once they come to realize their mistake they will come to retrieve me. Until then, I wait.”

However, waiting here may take more patience than you care to admit. The Olangi clan are known for their expertise as pa��li [direhorse] riders but even they may require a day or so to catch up to the point where Toruk Makto’s son has dragged you to. It's the furthest you have ever been from home. Consequently the first time you have seen the beautiful rolling grounds of the plains slowly transform into congested forest.

You can only see a portion of the sky with these interlocking trees in the way. It pushes in on you like the bars of your enclosure, yet another representation of how trapped you have become in Neteyam’s grip.

“I’m waiting too, paskalin [honey].” You shuffle slightly when he comes to sit beside you. The rich essence of his scent wraps around you in a vice-like grip. It has your inner omega running restless but you maintain a serene exterior. It wouldn’t be the first time an alpha has tried to rope you into submission with drifting pheromones. “In fact, we all are waiting.’ He gestures to the handful of Omatikaya warriors that have made the journey with him. They pretend to busy themselves with loading up pa’li that are already prepared. “Waiting for you to stop this tantrum of yours.”

“Tantrum?” The word feels foreign on your tongue.

“It means a child throwing a fit when they do not get their way.”

“I am not a child!” You seethe, lips peeling back to reveal your pointed fangs. “I am a princess and-”

“And I am a prince.” Neteyam shrugs, cutting you off. “Yet neither of those titles mean anything out here.”

You scoff, allowing your hair to act as a protective curtain from his searing attention. A prince. What a laughable thought. A true prince does not drag a female away from her home with bound wrists and promises of mating. He has no right to call himself such a thing.

Then again, your father calls himself Olo’eyktan yet he was the one that handed you over to the alpha. All for the promise of protection against the RDA. The Omatikaya could have asked for anything to seal the alliance between your two clans in battle but all that Neteyam had come to collect was you.

Your father’s decision, however, could be forgiven in your eyes. He was doing what he thought was best for the people. His greatest error was believing Neteyam would be a suitable mate for you, for thinking that any alpha would be a good match for you after all that you’ve expressed against such a union. You are a free spirit. Despite your presentation as an omega you were never meant to live in an alpha’s shadows.

“Look at me.” His voice is soft but firm. Another scoff of refusal is traveling up your throat but this time Neteyam doesn’t wait for you to follow his command. He captures your chin and forces you to turn and feel the weight of presence. It feels as if his alpha pheromones not only bleed into the space between you but also cinch around your throat like a claws. “I am your alpha now, your mate. That is the only title you should be focused on.”

Neteyam is a strange alpha, that you have come to quickly realize. Where other alphas often raise their voices in demand for respect and submission he delivers his commands in the form of smooth purrs traveling down your spine. He uses force when necessary but never done rashly or out of anger, simply a tool to get you back to where he deems you should be. Among the other males there is no passive aggressive commentary or puffing of chests to remind them of rank.

Instead he converses with them as old friends do. He leads the group in every sense of the word but it’s done with almost a playful hand as they laugh and make jokes with one another. And yet, after all of this backwards messaging, there is an air of dominance that laces his every move. He walks and talks with a relaxed expression as if he knows there is no need to prove himself. His supremacy is something that would not dare to be questioned.

And somehow that comes off as higher snobbery than any other foolish alpha you’ve seen wrestle for your hand.

“I don’t have an alpha. Nor will I ever.” With a tug your face is whipped from his hold. You manage to conceal the rush of heat to your cheeks by smoothly shifting your hair and facing away from him once more. “I suggest you accept that fact and stop wasting both of our time.”

Not a single bat of your eyes in his direction as you stare confidently ahead at the strange tree in front of you and wait to hear the party’s retreat. Instead your ears only catch the sound of a small sigh and shuffle before Neteyam is standing before you.

“Come now, princess. It’s been fun but we still have ground to cover.” He reaches his hand out to help you up but you only gamble casting a glance at it from your peripheral vision. As far as you are concerned, Neteyam does not exist in your world. And so you treat him as such.

“Neteyam!” A voice bellows across the distance. “We are losing daylight, brother. Are we set to travel?”

Neteyam doesn’t hesitate to send the other male a small smile before saying, “She is coming along now.”

“No I am not.” Your instant response is tainted with a gasp of offense. How dare he speak for you! “I am not moving from this rock until my clan comes to get me.” You insist, slapping his hand away.

Neteyam remains unperturbed, simply giving a shrug before murmuring, “Have it your way then.”

You aren’t afforded a second for a sense of victory to settle in before the prince is tossing you over his shoulder. Strongs arms wrap around the back of your thighs to keep you pinned there and decrease the range of motion for kicking. It doesn’t stop the gasp of outrage and pure spite that emanates from you. Limbs swinging in every which direction to deliver damage, you quickly resent the way his strength greatly overpowers your own.

“I am not some fresh kill for you to carry home. Set me down right this instant!”

“I gave you the chance to walk over with dignity, princess. What else am I supposed to do?” He tries to retort but you can detect the grin in his voice. Even more humiliating, from your upside down position you are still able to spot the other males squirming to not laugh at your compromising position.

“You are a mongrel of a man!”

The scratchy venom of your tone is morphed into a surprised squeak when you are let back onto your feet. Regardless, you remain trapped in Neteyam’s arms as you are wedged between him and a pa’li.

“Don’t waste your energy, tiyawn [love]. It will be at least a few more days before we reach Omatikaya soil.”

They are surrounding you from every side. The five other males may wear amused expressions and appear to be enraptured in conversations with one another but you are no fool. These men are under Neteyam’s jurisdiction. At the first sign of trouble they will be snapping into action. Running now will only get you dragged back and fighting against Neteyam’s hold may get you flung into a humiliating position again.

“At least let me have my own pa’li. I know how to ride.”

Neteyam's chest heaves with the responding laugh that awakens within him. White pearly teeth on display, his amusement rises higher. Several of the others try and fail to not join in. It heightens your blood pressure until your face is hot to the touch.

“That’s a very good try, princess.” He beams, patting your hip.

Neteyam unfortunately is not the fool you hope for him to be. Nor the arrogant alpha that would make the mistake of believing himself capable of catching you once you’ve set off on a pa’li. You’ve been riding since you were barely able to walk. The Omatikaya may understand the concept, but they hold not near the same precision and skill that your years of training have granted you.

It’s a fact he seems acutely aware of because he doesn’t let you saddle up first. All it would take is a few seconds for you to make the bond and leave them in the dust. Instead, he hands you off to another male as he settles himself upon the creature and only after he has made the bond himself does he have you lifted to sit in front of him.

By the time you settle around a fire for dinner and begin setting up camp, you can feel your eye on the verge of twitching. This journey has been nothing but painful and slow. So exceedingly slow. Although every step is one step further from your home that doesn’t erase the annoyance you feel at their painstaking pace. The only thing that stops you from snapping at them to hurry up is the hope that this extra time will help you come up with some sort of escape plan.

It’s clear that your father’s remorse is far too sluggish for you to solely rely on at this rate, so it seems it is once again up to you to meet them halfway.

However hatching up plans is exceedingly difficult when you have an alpha sculpted against your back, his essence clouding your mind and his eyes constantly peeking down at you as if he knows every thought swirling in your head. Try as you might, there is no reasonable way to veer away from his touch while riding the pa’li, at least not one that keeps you from developing excruciating back pain.

Trying to set your inner turmoil aside, you focus on using this time away from the Omatikaya prince to properly set your head right. However, it seems Neteyam has different plans as he settles to lounge by the fire. He thanks one of the other males for a drink he is handed before his attention lands on you.

“Come sit, princess.” He pats the spot beside him. There may be a warm smile to accompany his words but you know that it is nothing short of a command. The steely undertone of an alpha’s call reverberates in his tone.

It locks your spine into a ramrod straight position and your tail already tries to tuck itself the longer you wait to obey. It’s irrelevant, however. You’ve become quite adept at pushing down your omega instincts in favor of following your own logic instead.

With a smooth stroll and a feigned innocence to your smile, you maintain eye contact while making a show of sitting next to a different male across the fire. He’s a beta and your proximity immediately has him twitching.

Neteyam’s golden eyes take on a darker hue, but he remains where he is. You’ve challenged his authority, in front of his men no less, but somehow you escape the night unscathed from his rath. Or so you think.

It’s hard to say whether these sleeping arrangements are usual for the Omatikaya or rather just a setup meant for traveling. Either way, it is the most bizarre thing to sleep in a roll of fabric high up in the trees. Netyam claims it’s safer to stay off the ground during eclipse in the forest. A silly point truly when it’s just as dangerous, if not more likely, to turn over in your sleep and fall to your death.

Climbing up to the hammock is all the more painful and terrifying than riding with Neteyam. He patiently trails behind, waiting and giving unwanted direction for your climb until you have finally cocooned yourself in the fabric. Still trembling but refusing to voice any complaints that could be mocked, you take a moment to catch your breath.

That moment is exceedingly short.

The hammock suddenly swings and you look up to find the prince lowering himself down carefully from a branch above.

“No no, absolutely not. This is my bed. Get out.” He chuckles as you try to push and swat at his muscular thighs but it’s no use when he is settled in the fabric a few seconds later.

“Technically it is our bed.”

“Then I will take my chances on the ground.” Your stomach somersaults at the thought of enduring the climb down.

Comment ignored, Neteyam coaxes you to lay down before slipping himself behind you. You’re tempted to kick when he wraps an arm around your waist but the hammock is still swinging to a point of nausea. Best not to make it any worse.

“You’re trembling, omega.” It’s murmured against the shell of your ear. There is no need to look down in order to confirm his assertion. How do the Omatikaya sleep peacefully up in the trees like this? You’ve never considered yourself to have a fear of heights but today has you questioning that assurance all together.

“You look like you need someone to calm you down.” The palm of his right hand runs up and down the length of your arm, as if the transferring heat there would diminish your shivering.

“What I need is a break from your pestering.”

“I already gave you one.” His tale tickles at the back of your knee just as his accented voice deepens. “A break that I have still not received a thank you for.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting, my prince.” You sneer. It wasn’t his decision to have you sit away from him during dinner. It was entirely your own and he is not about to receive acknowledgment as if he had any control over what you do.

“I hope you know what you’re playing at, princess.”

Those are the last words he speaks of the night and consequently the same ones that leave you restless and twitching. Sleeping like this is impossible. When you’re not worried about falling to your death you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you and Neteyam. His toned chest is like a bustling fire against your back. His tail at some point wraps around knee as if it belongs there. Even his silky ebony braids tickle at your neck, almost as bad as where his face tucks itself behind your ear.

There is no forgetting who lays behind you. Sleep seems to never come because you are constantly trying to calm your raging heart and control the pheromones that threaten to slip into the air. That would wake him up far too easily.

His breath is heavy, heartbeat consistent and strong from where it pounds against your back. You’ve been sure for a while now that he is fast asleep. Now is the time to make your move, but frozen you remain. Eventually you look down to find that your fingers have begun tracing the veins of his forearm as an anxious tick.

Thank Eywa he seems to not wake up from the touch. Or perhaps it is the smooth caress that has coaxed him further into sleep. Either way, you hold very little hope of not only climbing down the trees without splitting your pretty head open but also doing so unnoticed.

Sleep comes and goes along with the hours until waiting has wound you taunt. It is only a matter of time before the sun rises again and you’ve lost the window of opportunity. So with sweaty hands and a heart threatening to come up your throat, you cautiously slide yourself out from his hold.

By some miracle it turns out that Neteyam is the deepest sleeper you have ever met, because even as the hammock sways from your climbing out, he simply lets out a sigh and turns his head further into the fabric.

Scaling down the tree is a test in vigilance and patience. Every smooth breath you force yourself to take is a practice in these arts. Stubbornly you refuse to look down, knowing it will only bring forth nerve ridden mistakes. So with the pace of a snail you inch further and further down the trunk.

You just need to make it to a pa’li.

That’s it.

So close. So very close, you tell yourself, even as you know it’s a lie.

“What are you doing?”

Your breath catches in your throat, thighs tensing as you remember to still keep hold. Your muscles relax slightly, however, when you notice that the voice holds an Omatikaya accent but it is not Neteyam’s. The beta from dinner sits up in his hammock, eyes squinting at you through the darkness. Say the wrong thing and he is bound to sound the alarm.

“You should not be out of bed.” He sighs.

“I must relieve myself.” Biting your bottom lip you steer your features into confident defiance. “Or am I not allowed to do that too?”

The beta lets out a sigh and a curse you do not recognize. It must be part of the Sky People’s weird language.

“Alright, I will assist you just wait for a moment.”

“I don’t require an audience.”

“But you do require supervision.”

It’s difficult to argue when you remain clinging to a tree for dear life. So when the beta helps you make it down the tree foothold by foothold, there is nothing left in you to protest. Instead, you simply shift gears.

“Be quick.” The male says, gesturing to a secluded spot behind thick bushes.

“It takes as long as it takes.” Head held high, you walk past him and into the bushes. Luckily the sounds of nocturnal creatures are loud enough to excuse why you are so silent in the bushes. Furthermore, it’s clear that male has at least some respect for your privacy as a woman when he doesn’t question again what takes you so long.

Those advantages aside, running now would still do you no good. He has steered the two of you further away from the pa’li and running on foot will only get you lost in this entanglement of greenery. And with a beta, one native to the area nonetheless, there is no chance of getting far.

Lucky for you, there is always one sure fire way to disable a man without violence.

“What did you say your name is again?”

The beta straightens when you walk past him.

“Um, I didn’t.” He picks up into a jog to catch up with your sudden retreat. Not a foot of space is granted between you two. He has grown suspicious.

Shifting your long glossy hair over one shoulder, you look over at him with a subtle pout. “Well I don’t see how that’s fair. You know my name but I don’t know yours.”

The beta doesn’t immediately melt at your softened composure like most males at home do. Rather he seems to clear his throat in discomfort before muttering out, “Ke’ve”

“Hm, Ke’ve.” You repeat back, as if savoring the taste of his name on your tongue. He’s nervous. No doubt, devoted to keeping his distance from the prince’s intended. There are ways to relax him, however. “Well Ke’ve, not every male is noble enough to lend his help in the middle of the night. You must know your presence has brought me great comfort out here.”

His eyes scrunch but he doesn’t respond, perhaps unsure of what response would be safe.

“You see,” With a sigh, you come to a halt. “I’m not very accustomed to feeling vulnerable. We are so far from home in a place I have never been but I still do not enjoy being seen as weak. So I wouldn’t admit this to anyone else but I feel as if I can trust you when I say,” You pause for dramatic effect and will tears to your eyes. “I’m scared.”

Were it an alpha, the essence of your fear would be enough to swoop you into their arms and make an oath of protection. Ke’ve on the other hand is a beta, so his response is more subtle. Yet just as promising when his expression falters and he looks on the verge of sighing again.

“You are safe with us.” And as sure as the sun rises in the morning, so does that inevitable flash of concern spring forth.

“I do feel safer with you.” Just a gentle brush of your fingers against his elbow. So subtle in wake of your shining vulnerability that he doesn’t shrug it off. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

A few stray pieces of hair fall over your cheek to frame your depiction of soft spoken innocence. You are perfectly poised like a flower ready to be picked, a delicate beauty that deserves to be protected at all costs. The same disposition that has had beta men falling at your feet time and time again.

They are always enchanted by your demeanor. So much so that when the Olo’ekytan’s daughter suddenly spins the table so she is straddling their waist and taking control, they can’t help but hand the reins over.

“Yes well you…you don’t need to worry.” Ke’ve’s eyes don’t hold the same snare that Neteyam’s do but you can already imagine how pretty they will look rolling to the back of his head when you have his cock in your mouth. Pleasure has a way of rendering a man defenseless, therefore giving you the perfect opportunity to carry out your plans.

With the stealth and precision of a predator stalking its prey you snake your hand up his bicep and over one broad shoulder. Consequently it has your own face inching closer to his wrist where you sensually let his pulse point rub over your throat. It will leave the trace of his scent there, igniting a primal side of him that can be molded perfectly into your designs. “How can I repay you?” You ask, batting your lashes up at him as you begin the slow descent to your knees.

But they never hit the ground.

Sharp pain erupts along your scalp as a hand abruptly grabs a chunk of your hair at the roots. That hold is used to veer you back onto your feet and fall back against a warm chest. “I can think of a few ways.”

Your carefully crafted composure shatters into a hiss as you try to recover from both the shock of being caught and the unforgiving grip Neteyam has in your hair. Even more so, the tingling sensation that brutal hold sends down your spine.

“Ow! Let go!”

“Tell the others I will be having a little talk with my omega.” Neteyam commands, ignoring your useless struggling. “You are dismissed, Ke’ve.” The beta doesn’t need to be told twice, already scurrying to get away.

“Now let’s get you sorted out.” Still keeping his hand tangled where you try to dislodge it, Neteyam drags you further into the mysterious forest. You note that the distance, however, is not quite far enough to completely conceal your whining from the others.

Feet stumbling once that hold is released, you find yourself unceremoniously deposited onto a large boulder. You can spot the cliff’s edge where it drops down into a waterfall and beyond is the rolling landscape of Pandora’s forest. The glimmer of eclipse is slowly shifting into the first ray of sunshine to cast over the horizon.

“You just had to prove me right, tiyawn.” Neteyam tutts, squatting onto his haunches so that he is at your level.

It takes considerable effort to get your brain back online and position yourself into a pose more flattering and fit for a princess. No male has ever handled you so roughly. They wouldn’t dare. But the sting of Neteyam’s tug on your scalp leaves a strange ache behind that has your mind reeling. Trying to put your confident mask back on, you fuss with your hair to get every strand back into place.

“And you just had to act like a barbarian.”

“Did you really believe it was that easy to sneak away from me?”

Your throat runs dry when you meet his eyes. This wasn’t a near successful escape, it was planned. One look at his face and it’s clear that he knew exactly when you left and exactly who was assigned to deter you.

“Can’t a woman pee in peace?” You fumble out, making your last attempt at defending your story.

“I suppose not when it ends in you practically nuzzling at another man's tewng [loincloth] like a little slut.”

Your jaw drops before you can stop it. Eyes ablaze and tail pointed on alert, you are tempted to throw caution to the wind and slap the alpha’s pretty face. No male, in fact no Na’vi, has ever used such a vulgar term to depict you. You’ve had your share of fun among the betas in your clan, but that makes you no less glittering of a gem. And certainly not a slut.

“No man of honor would even think of using such a term, let alone directing it at me.” When you rise up to your full height, Neteyam stands in suit. “Is this why you asked for my hand? Any normal prince, especially the son of Toruk Makto, should have half the women in the clan begging to mate with him. But maybe even they could not see past your arrogant disrespectful bravado, so you had to travel to another clan entirely to find an unknowing prospect.”

“Is that your theory?” Tone deceptively calm, the deep drag of his voice washes over you like silk.

“You may think that you’ve conquered and can now return home with a pep in your step but no matter what you do, there will always be one truth that will haunt you.”

You gulp down the lump in your throat when one of his long strides closes the distance between you. Regardless, you refuse to retreat.

“And what truth is that, princess?”

Your wild eyes shoot to pierce through him.

“That you chose wrong.” You let that statement hang in the air for a beat, hoping it will press down on him in the silence. However it is disappointment that lays a hold on you when his unreadable expression remains in place.

“Is that so?”

He’s close enough to nearly feel the beat of his heart.

“It may be your experience that omegas in your presence bow in submission and shudder beneath that charming grin, but I am not one of them. I am not subject to swooning for or baring my neck to any alpha. I am too independent for your tastes.”

His chest vibrates with a deep chuckle, one that ironically holds no jovial warmth to it. Instead, paired with the sinful curve of his lips, it wraps thick tendrils around you that act as the calm before the storm.

“You’re not independent, princess. You’re a spoiled brat.”

He’s undeterred by your scoff or bat of your hands when he forcefully grasps your chin between two fingers.

“When my father finds out what kind of man you-”

“Your father has done you a great disservice.” Two steps forward and Neteyam has successfully backed you up against the cool stone. “He has given you everything you’ve asked for, let you go entirely unchecked. We can place part of the blame on him for turning you into a spoiled little thing that thinks it only takes a bat of her lashes to get what she wants.”

When your lips part to sneer a nasty comment at him, Neteyam swiftly presses his thumb over them.

“It’s because of this spoiled attitude that you have not properly learned the pleasure of submitting to your nature.” He’s not trying to hide the shadow of his scent over you now, it circles you into a clouded dome. Leaning his head down, his lips just barely whisper against your own that are still trapped beneath his thumb. “You don’t understand the ecstasy of being tamed.”

A warmth pools at the pit of your stomach. You recognize that feeling and what it means. Putting your desire to win this argument aside, it’s clear that now is the time to bow out before this escalates too far.

“Get off.” At first it’s just a whisper. Then when Neteyam’s body remains curled over yours, rock hard and unmoving, your voice rises. “I said get off! You egotistical pervert!” Your cries don’t stop and neither does the useless rain of your fists against his chest.

But then he is snatching your wrists and hooking a hand beneath your thigh to slide you up onto the rock. The stone is cold against your exposed back and ass, your tail becoming trapped beneath your own weight. Neteyam crushes all hope of sitting back up when he cages your smaller form with his own bulking frame.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you, tiyawn?”

You fight the urge to squeeze the muscles beneath your captured hands when they land on his chest to push him away.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult if you just got off of my ass for once.”

“Oh but princess that is exactly where I want to be.” That devilish grin is accented by a ray of sunlight painting his features.

Without an inch of personal space it becomes aggravatingly obvious how gorgeous the man above you is. Neteyam is the perfect contrast of broad shoulders and a slim waist shown off by his beautiful woven battle band. His immaculate braids swing down across his cheeks and collarbones to frame his intense eyes, sharp jawline, and lips that were simply made to do sinful things.

Your reflection is cut short when a band begins to wrap around your wrists. Squirm as you might, Neteyam holds no sympathy for your protests as he expertly ties the appendages together. Empty threats. Cries for help. None of them make an ounce of difference.

“Scream as much as you want if you’re that eager to give the others a show.”

That shuts you up in an instant. It confirms your earlier observation of proximity and immediately has you playing back the conversation to guess how much of it that other males have already heard.

“You’re a monster.”

“Hm, and all yours, princess.” A wicked grin across his lips, Neteyam secures your bound wrists to a low branch over the rock. You’re left stretched out and trapped laying across the boulder beneath him.

That cocky expression blanches its color once he draws his nose along your neck. The exact spot you had tricked Ke’ve to scent you. Your heart hammers on its own accord when Neteyam’s wicked smile drops. Mere seconds ago nothing had seemed more appealing than ripping apart the alpha with the lash of your tongue, but now something in you warns to stay still. To stay quiet.

“I was going to wait until we reached Vitraya Ramunong [tree of souls], in light of tradition.” His breath is hot against your neck, a heat that travels like lava down to your very core. “But it seems my little brat can’t wait that long.”

His teeth sink in without warning. It takes a moment for the shock to fizzle out and allow you to feel the pain. Neteyam’s teeth bite and capture the soft flesh there without mercy before his lips suck a dark spot directly over where Ke’ve’s scent used to be.

Your spine arches, hips already bucking without your consent. The only response to your screams and squirming is Neteyam’s own hips pressing you back against the stone. He is ravenous. Biting, sucking, and licking at that one spot until the area has become desensitized to his ministrations.

Your body has spiked from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. Your head reels with the whiplash of having the male reprimand you one moment and the next sinking his teeth into a mark terrifyingly close to your mating gland.

“Better.” Neteyam finally murmurs against your neck. He seals the mark with a deceptively tender kiss as you are left short circuiting. Your instincts flare, that primal part of your nature climbing out from under the rock you’ve kept it trapped beneath.

“Are…are you insane? Biting that close-”

“I won’t mark you there tonight, tiyawn. Want to be able to feel you through the bond when that happens.” A curved knuckle runs down your kuru, making your toes curl. “Once we are under the spirit tree together. There are still some traditions I’d like to keep.” He says with a grin that you could almost associate with a charming gentleman, not the same male that just savagely ravaged your throat like a predator of the night.

“But we will need to find a way to get you to behave until then.” You can’t mirror the ease he feels as he speaks. It becomes clear now how dire your circumstances are. You had thought Neteyam wouldn’t dare to put a hand on you without permission but now he has proven to be more than willing to not only touch but leave marks behind. There is no telling where he draws the line.

And you’re scared, just as you should be, but there is something else far more terrifying that plumps into your bloodstream. A dangerous intrigue that borders excitement.

“How do you suggest we do that, princess?”

No matter how hard you try, no humble response willingly bubbles to your lips. Neteyam is still an asshole, gorgeous or not. Alluring or not. No matter how tempting he may be, that doesn’t mean it’s worth exploring the mysterious punishment he has up his sleeve. And you…well you’re still pissed.

“My behavior is nothing in comparison to yours. You-”

A hand comes down on the side of your ass hard enough to have you choking on those words.

“You hit me!” Neteyam simply tilts his head at your accusation.

“Good observation, tiyawn.” Not a hint of apology present. This man is not remorseful, he is proud. “If you keep running your mouth like that I will be forced to do it again. Knowing you, it won’t take long for me to tan that ass red.”

Your father never spanked you as a child. It would break his heart to see his little girl cry the tears it would inevitably provoke. And with your dating experience exclusively being betas, no man has ever tried to right that wrong. Thinking of riding on a pa’li with a red ass now has fear jumbling threats past your lips haphazardly.

“I swear on my-”

His right hand clamps over your mouth. The pressure is hard enough to have you whining beneath his skin.

“That’s enough from you for now.”

There is nothing left for you to do but watch. Body rendered immobile and now your last weapon at your disposal silenced, you are at the utter mercy of the prince. A mercy that does not appear to be afforded any time soon as his other hand trails down to start undoing the knots of your top.

It shouldn’t be as scary as it is, watching string be string get unlooped as your crystal top begins to fall slack. However, this particular intimacy is one you are not accustomed to.

It had started out as just a silly game you had played when you first started dating. Men were often foaming at the mouth to get a proper glimpse of your subtle breasts. It had been an immediate source of amusement as you’d seen how far they were willing to go for only a chance. And even more rewarding when you noticed how easy it was to never follow through with satisfying this desire.

So it continued. It became somewhat common knowledge among your lovers, and any future interested prospects that you keep that part of yourself private. However, you hadn’t meant for it to go on as long as it did. Eventually you would cave to a worthy beta and watch him go feral, but that was before you discovered simply how sensitive your nipples are. It only took a few times of playing with yourself, brought on by your interest in nipple piercings, for you to see how vulnerable that area of you is.

And now it is ironically Neteyam that uncovers that part of you.

He can sense the shift of your scent the moment it happens. With every tug on the feeble strings your essence takes on a darker hue. Pleasure and pain. Arousal and fear. These combinations are ones you have not been properly exposed to. Perhaps were it not for him, you would never have been humble enough to try them.

The last undone tie allows the strung crystals to slide over the curve of your chest before dropping to the floor. What pretty little things you adorn yourself with, yet they do very little to protect you. Because it’s clear to him that in your eyes, protection is never needed. You can not fathom how much you have truly gotten away with.

Prancing around in your little outfits. Torturing men with what they want but can’t truly possess. Expecting the world to shift whatever way you desire with the wave of your hand. It’s laughable how you never imagined to face the consequences of such actions.

You’re a haughty little thing just waiting to be put in your place.

“My brat.” Neteyam smirks, leaning down to place a kiss at the slope between your breasts. Goosebumps ripple over your beautiful azure skin. It’s a visceral reaction to the smallest of his touches and it drives him near insanity. How perfect this pretty body of yours will be as a canvas for his marks. A vessel for his heir.

Fuck, you are beautiful.

Perhaps he can’t entirely blame you for being so arrogant. Your beauty is enough to hold a man captive with just a simple glance. And you’ve taken advantage of that far too many times.

He allows himself to fall captive to it now. Unlike the others, he won’t need to starve after you once you’ve decided you’re done playing with him like a toy. No, you will be bound to him. You will belong to him completely.

“So pretty.” He coos, his lips just barely painting over your right breast. When his bottom lip hover over your nipple he watches in awe as it hardens. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

You’ve gone silent, but he can feel the stutter of your breath beneath his hand. It would be unfair to neglect the other side, so Neteyam takes his time showing your left breast the same gentle attention that has your other nipple following in suit. He’s heard of your reluctance to reveal such pretty breasts to your lovers, but he never imagined it would be due to such sensitivity.

It’s like watching a flower bloom for him. The way you squirm and whine at even the drag of his eyes over your delectable form. Neteyam lets his hand slip from your mouth, no longer willing to explore only with his lips.

His fingertips start a trail down by your navel and ascend up over your stomach and towards your chest at a slow pace. When he finally reaches to gently palm at your right breasts he feels your heartbeat pounding like a drum under his fingers. So many nights he has dreamed of touching you like this, rendering you utterly speechless before he has even started. Now as your lips part and breath becomes labored from his simple touches, there is no sight more delightful.

You are perfect. You have an attitude that is in major need of fixing but even that is simply a beautiful challenge Eywa has created for him. The way you fit in his hands, gently massaging that supple flesh, it’s clear She crafted your body specifically for him too.

The sun has finally breached the line of the horizon and now it sparkles along your chest in a dazzling show. The white crystals woven in your hair remind him of the halos worn by the angels his father has described.

He applies more pressure with his right hand until the plump flesh is spilling between his fingers, giving him the perfect presentation for his salivating mouth. What starts out as an open mouthed kiss a few inches above your nipple quickly turns into sucking that flesh into his mouth until you are writhing. He groans at the sounds you make and when he pulls back to see the purple mark rising along your skin, the sight is enough to have him on the brink of purring in elation.

Neteyam bends forward and starts crafting his brand on the other side so they are a matching set. This time he takes care in placing it further below your left nipple, at the crease where your stomach meets your chest. It will be difficult for you to find a top able to cover up this claim wrought by his teeth, a purposeful decision on his part.

“Tey…mmm… teyam wait!”

He grins at the cute nickname you’ve already coined for him, but that only buys you a few seconds before he is finally puckering his lips around one of your stiff points. The reaction is instantaneous, spine curving and a screech barreling up your throat. He doesn’t start off sucking too hard, instead just enjoys the way you feel in his mouth. Eventually, though, the whines you make are too decadent for him to resist making them ring louder. So he sucks harder at the little point and groans around the sensitive area so that it has vibrations shooting through you.

“Finally being so good to me, tiyawn, aren’t you?” He says, taking a moment to release your nipple with an audible pop. “Laying yourself out for me to enjoy. I knew you could be a good girl.”

You haven’t come to earn this praise yet, but it’s important to leave an alluring snippet that exhibits what could come if you only behave. As much as you may want to fight it, your nature won’t let you escape how good such praise feels. You are a stubborn woman but your body wants to submit to him. There is a part of you, no matter how deep you’ve buried it, that yearns to please your alpha.

He snaps you back into the moment by softly closing his teeth around your left nipple. It takes a hand against your stomach to stop you from rolling onto your side and away from his soft torment.

“It’s too sensitive! Stop!” Your pouted lips beg but your strengthening perfume gives your arousal away. Just as he figured, you’ve yet to experience how beautifully pleasure and pain intertwine. He rolls that bud sensually between his teeth before carefully giving it a tug.

He alternates between tormenting your nipples and savoring the plush curve of your breasts with his hands and mouth. The skin is soft beneath his calloused palms. It has him wondering how it would feel to have that velvety skin squished around his cock and as he fucks your breasts. Neteyam swallows back the pooling saliva on his tongue, a string of it still connecting his lips to where he laid his last mark on your tits. It’s almost tempting enough to forgo his plans altogether and sate his lust driven curiosity, but Neteyam shakes it away.

The two of you will have plenty of time to experiment later.

“Teyam, please no more. It’s too much!” Your pleas have died down in volume. Now they are coated with your labored breath as you try to control the pounding of your heart.

“Too much, princess?” He questions and guides his hand down south to rest over your loincloth. “Or not enough?” When he cups your pussy through the fabric you roll up against him and chase whatever friction he is willing to give.

It’s not nearly enough, he can tell from your disappointed expression when he pulls away entirely. Pupils blown wide and chest heaving to catch your breath, you remain silent as he reaches for the pouch attached to his tewng.

Neteyam pulls out a line of woven crystals, much like the ones you wear in your hair but these were foraged from the caves near his home. There are fastens on either end of the chain that took far too much time for him to craft.

“Is that for me?” Naturally you ask, that pretty face already showing how quick you are to forget what he was doing to you mere seconds ago once a shiny gift is presented. Neteyam fights the curve of his lips and keeps his every from rolling. Always so predictable.

“Just for you, princess.”

He had crafted it after his last visit to your village. Far before the Olangi clan thought the threat of Sky People was great enough to require protection but him and his father had been there to spread the news regardless. He knew before you even spoke that you thought the world was at your feet. Even the way you walked, spoke of a spoiled elegance. And when he had tried to sate his curiosity towards you with a conversation you were nothing but rude and spiteful towards him.

He knew then that you were going to be his, one or another.

And so he started foraging for the crystals that first night back.

“So pretty,” you murmur, voice airy. Those golden eyes narrow as you squint to look at it. Despite your current position and already wrecked voice, a sneaky little smirk forms over your lips. “But you miscounted. My hair is much longer than that.”

He lets you have your moment, watches as you grin up at him as if you have finally landed a critical blow. All for that to sizzle out when he bends down to whisper in your ear.

“Who said anything about your hair?”

The confused scrunch of your features doesn’t last long when he begins running the cool metal of the clamps up and down your right nipple. Nipple clamps are not a traditional erotic tool for the Na’vi so he’s certain you don’t believe your first instinct as to where that is going until he starts to pinch the right one to prepare it.

“Neteyam, no! Get that away-” He clasps his other hand over your mouth again. Always the demands with you. Sooner than later you will learn that begging gets you a lot further with him. It’s a little trickier to prepare with only one hand available but Neteyam manages.

The alpha plants a knee across your pelvis to keep you place while his right hand tugs at your nipples to confirm they are pointed enough to clamp onto. When the first clamp goes on your right nipple, your screeching goes up an octave. You know what to expect better when the left one is attached but that doesn’t diminish your reaction.

Lovely little drama queen you are, the fit that follows is inevitable. He’s tested the clamps and consulted with several Sky People before deciding to use them on you so he knows there isn’t any real damage being done. Still, you are going to squirm and screech and, were it not for his hand, probably shout every insult you can think of at him, because you have never been punished like this. And your tantrums are what has worked for you in the past.

He lets you fight it out as he holds you down. Neteyam doesn’t mind as it gives him time to admire his handy work. The chain of crystal connecting the clamps hang exquisitely between your curves. Those stiff points have turned a new shade of purple as they peek out between the clamp’s teeth.

“Enough.” Neteyam finally quips back, tugging at the chain. A mix between a moan and groan rumbles from your throat. Once his hand has retreated he can hear the sound properly. Keeping his pointer finger curled around the crystal chain, the prince raises a warning brow at you. “Are you done throwing your fit?”

He watches your pupils dilate and lips curl into a pout.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like my gift?”

“It hurts.” You whimper with a quivering bottom lip. It’s difficult to say how genuine the reaction is considering what a good little actress you are.

He nods his head, mocking your pout with a feigned one upon his own lips. That only whips your stare into pointed daggers.

“It’s supposed to, tiyawn. That’s why it is called punishment.” He kisses right above your left clamped nipple. “A term you may become very familiar with if you don’t fix your attitude.”

Pulling back from where you glare, Neteyam settles himself beside you on his side. His left arm props against the rock to casually support his head while the right drags down your torso. The alpha’s ears perks at the little hiss you release when he just barely brushes the chain but he continues down south.

Another time when the moon is still out he will kiss every little tanhi that dots your precious body until you cry for more. For now, he is only focused on one location.

Neteyam can sense the heat of your core the second his fingertips slip beneath your loincloth’s waistband. You are soft and wet, just like he had imagined so many times. Flared nostrils greedily inhale your scent as he pauses to cup your entire pussy. Much like before, you can’t help but react to his touch. With a little more pressure in his firm hold, a trickle of wetness drops onto his palm.

Fuck, you are inescapable!

You may believe he is to blame for this arrangement but the truth is you are the one that has trapped him since the moment he caught a whiff of your essence. It is him that has been utterly destroyed by his constant thoughts of you.

“But I know that isn’t all there is to it, is there?” He continues, softly kissing your shoulder. “It’s not just pain you feel. There’s something else.”

Your poor bottom lip has been utterly abused by your sharp teeth. Whatever sacrifice it takes for you to keep from admitting the truth to him. He discards your tewng with one hand.

“A unique sense of-” He spreads your folds to suddenly massage your peeking clit with his pointer finger, stealing a gasp from you. “Pleasure.” Neteyam finishes with a grin.

You turn to putty in his hands. The tension riddled along your muscles unravel as he rubs circles along your clit with just the right amount of pressure. When he clasps the chain between his teeth and tugs your eyes fly open, taking in your surroundings as if the pleasure has made you forget where you are entirely.

“Can’t space out on me yet, princess. We still have more to discuss.”

Talking appears to be the last thing on your mind, hips already rolling to hump against his hand. So close to the edge already that it causes a burst of pride to warm in his chest. Warm thighs bracket his hand as if afraid it will pull away at any moment. Smiling softly at the display, Neteyam smoothly covers your upper body with his own, nose to nose in a matter of seconds.

There is nowhere for you to hide now, every microreaction bared for him. Those vibrant eyes remain locked on his own, but he catches the way they occasionally dart to his lips before returning.

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

Your lips against his are like decadent chocolate, the swirl of his tongue around your own is another burst of flavor he simply can not get enough of. And so the prince swirls the kiss into a languid roll of passion that leaves your lips ruby red and breaths coming out in puffs once he pulls away.

His hand is drenched in your juices. So much so that when he switches to his thumb rubbing your clit and pointer finger tapping at your entrance, those soaking walls capture him at the first sign of intrusion. Your tight heat sucks in the first digit, pulsing around him greedily as your eyes roll back.

Another tug to the chain and he has your attention again.

“Let’s start with an easy question, tiyawn.” He starts. “What were you going to do to Ke’ve?”

Smart little thing that you are, or perhaps manipulative is a more accurate term, you act as if the pleasure has completely swept you away from understanding him. Beautiful little whimpers rumble in your throat and a look of pure lust crosses over your deceivingly innocent features.

Neteyam isn’t willing to wait to see how you act your way out of this.

His finger stops curling and thumb halts before his other hand pushes your thigh upward so that he can land a crackling spank to your ass.

“Princess,” Neteyam drawls out in a mocking sing-song voice. “I’m running out of patience.”

The charade drops but your body trembles from the sudden lack of stimulation.

“I was going to distract him.” It’s spoken so softly that his ears twitch and strain to make sure he hears you correctly. The finger inside of you restarts, curling up against your g spot while his thumb torments that bundle of nerves from the other side.

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He slots his face against the slope of your throat. The fragrance that is so uniquely you is especially strong here so there is no stopping the way his tongue naturally flicks out to draw a wet line from your collarbones to jaw. “Let me be more specific. How were you going to distract him?”

The context clues were clearly enough to put two and two together, but he still demands that you say it out loud. The first step to developing remorse is acknowledging what was done.

When you take your time thinking up a strategic answer he cruelly pulls his finger out and jams a second one back with it on the thrust. Your toes curl and your face is turned to bury in your hair.

“Princess.”

No response, just a small whine as he scissor his long digits to stretch those velvet walls.

“Were you going to suck his cock?”

Your silence is rewarded with his hand stilling. The disappointment has your lips parting to no doubt say something far outside of a good girl’s vocabulary, but one raised brow has you falter in that decision.

He twirls the middle of the chain around one finger so it is shortened and with each word he tugs it back sharply.

“Were. You. Going. To. Suck. His. Cock.”

“Ah mm Yes!” You gasp, eyes squeezed shut but pussy wildly pulsing around his fingers.

“That’s what I thought.” He revels in the naive relief you exhibit when he begins his ministrations between your thighs again. How cute of you to think that a little truth would forgive your earlier sins.

Neteyam prowls down your body, savoring the slide of your skin against his own until he is settled between your thighs that are now pushed over his shoulders and he has an unobstructed view of your greedy cunt. While diligently pushing you closer to an orgasm, the alpha takes special care to decide where his next visual claim will be laid. He decides on two spots.

The first one is atop your upper thigh where it will be in clear view of anyone you come across and the second is harshly sucked into the sensitive flesh of your left inner thigh.

“You will never walk upon Omatikay soil without my marks.”

You don’t appear to hear him.

“Oh mm Neteyam…feels so good.”

It might just be the first good thing you’ve said all day and his inner alpha purrs in deep satisfaction. Unfortunately for you, punishment comes before rewards.

Retracting his hand entirely, Neteyam swipes the remnants of your sticky arousal over your inner thighs, painting his beautiful canvas. There is no time to complain at the loss before he is running the flat of his tongue from your convulsing pussy up over your clit and even navel.

That wet muscle dances along and between your folds in practiced precision. Your essence tantalizes his very tastebuds until he is producing so much saliva that it is difficult to say how much of the wet mess at your apex is made from him versus you. He supposes in some ways he is responsible for both.

The prince’s lips shine with the evidence when he pulls back to speak.

“Do good girls do that?”

“Huh…what?”

“Do good girls try to suck cocks that are not their alpha’s?” He reiterates, weaving a firm steel into his voice.

“I…uh…no,” Comes your timid response.

Those thick lashes flutter when he returns to feasting on your delicious cunt. It only lasts for a second, however, before he is speaking against the soft skin of your thighs.

“That’s right, tiyawn. Good omegas know who they belong to.”

Your body jolts as if stung by lightning when his thumb rubs at your sensitive nub again. He can see it in your face now. His omega is just barely tipping on the edge of release.

“So what do you think you should do about it?”

Breath borderline erratic the muscles in your legs tense in anticipation of that wonderful release. The same one that he roughly rips away when you don’t respond, not daring to even breath across your cunt.

“No no please! I’m so close! Just a little longer. I wanna come!”

“What do you think you should do about it?” Neteyam repeats, tampering down the smirk that threatens to cross his lips when he sees the way you whine and tugs at your bonds.

“For…for what?” You’re so genuinely confused he has to hold back a coo at how adorable you look.

“What do you think you should do to make up for trying to suck his cock?”

That little head of yours is working overtime to craft an intelligent response. It becomes all that much harder when he starts playing with your clit again, keeping you tantalizingly close to the edge but never over.

“I…I could…I..”

“Yes?” Neteyam considers himself very patient but he is forced to halt his touch when you take too long to respond and get far too close to coming.

“No wait! Why did you stop?” Your foot stomps against the rock like the spoiled brat that you are, so utterly confused and crestfallen at being denied for the first time. Has any male ever even tried to edge you? If your response is anything to go off of, it’s clear that he will be the first to teach you the joys of orgasm denial too.

“Answer my question, oeyӓ tiyawn [my love].”

Frustrated tears run from the corner of your eyes and this time Neteyam is positive they are genuine. Your little pout is broken by sharp teeth torturing your bottom lip again while you try to get a hold of yourself to respond properly.

“I…I could suck your cock.” It comes out almost as a question but the prince is eager to take it.

“There you go.” He hoists himself up to deposit a kiss on your lips before shrinking back down and continuing a very special kiss between your legs. Your pretty thighs immediately clamp around his head, shaking so hard he can feel the vibrations. As much as he wants to taste your release properly he can’t pass up the opportunity to see your face for the first time as you come.

So the alpha escapes the cage of your thighs and replaces his tongue with skilled fingers the fuck up into your pussy and play with that precious bundle of nerves. He kisses his way up your body, this time being mindful of the crystal chain, until he is nuzzling against your cheek. The woodsy essence of his own scent will integrate there, letting everyone know that you have been claimed.

“Such a smart girl my omega is. So good for her alpha.”

That is your undoing. Like a woven tapestry he watches you unravel into an explosion of pure ecstasy. All of this time you’ve denied yourself the wondrous caress of an alpha’s praise. It’s left you with no defenses once finally showered with his sweet words. Neteyam groans deeply beneath your whiny scream, savoring the way his hand is now properly drenched as he rides you through the orgasm.

You don’t register when Neteyam pulls away. In fact your head is so high above the clouds that it’s only when your hands drop like a dead weight against the boulder that you realize Neteyam has cut your bonds.

It feels as if the world is a hazy blur of color, everything so vibrant and wondrous as you come down from that high. Even the simple kisses Neteyam gives to each of your wrists feels like drinking sunshine. In fact it is so incredible that you instantly crave more.

More of him.

More of this electric pleasure.

Anything and everything that has brought you into such a happy state.

However, when the prince comes to carefully help you off the boulder and back onto your feet, it’s suddenly clear what it will take to get another taste of cloud nine. And in this case, that means tasting him.

Neteyam hardly needs to prompt you onto your knees. Whatever is brewing inside of you is now your new addiction and somehow being at eye level with his crotch has never seemed more appealing. Your alpha wants you to atone for your sins, perhaps then he will grant you another orgasm. Well if taking him down your throat is redemption then you are going to be good at this game.

Past experience is the foundation of your confidence.

Hands still shaking with aftershock, they fumble to get a hold of his tewng. You’re about to catch hold of the waistband and simply rip the fabric down when strong hands catch your wrists. You look up at him in bewilderment. What type of man stops a woman on her knees second before he is about to get his dick sucked?

“We’re not going to do this your way, princess. If you want to make it up to me then you will learn to follow my instructions.”

In some ways it’s borderline insulting. What is wrong with the way you suck a male off? No man has ever complained. And if they did, how would Neteyam even know? He’s never experienced nor witnessed what you do. But of course as an alpha he must believe he knows best.

Typical.

Those thoughts don’t bubble into words, however, because as much as you would like to prove how fucking fantastic you are all on your own, you don’t want it more than another orgasm. Preferably by the means of his skilled tongue.

When he drops your wrists you shift uncomfortably, both impatience and the tight press of the clamps around your nipples creates the undeniable need to squirm. All while Neteyam simply watches you from above, perfectly calm and entertained by your position.

That is until you go to shift the clamps and your wrists are immediately snagged again.

“Did I say you could touch that?” He asks, that smooth voice taking on a smoky edge. Just when you are about to pout, however, Neteyam pulls your hands to place them along his upper thighs. You don’t need to be told twice. Running your hands along the smooth skin and squeezing the corded muscle there is a nice enough distraction to silence your objections.

That is, until a new distraction presents itself.

His long fingers carefully start to undo the ties of his tewng. Done at such a leisured pace it’s obvious he is determined to torture you, even pausing at one point to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before finally lets the cloth fall away.

Excitement quickly mingles with apprehension when you see what you are faced with.

Beta males have always satisfied you with their size, just enough to make you choke a little and hit that special spot inside of you. However, you’ve forgotten entirely what it means to be with an alpha. Neteyam’s cock curves up against his lower abs, fully hard and already sporting a drop of precum. But even the thought of fitting your mouth around that bulbous head, let alone trying to get the massive length down your throat makes your ears begin to twitch.

All confidence quickly drains from your face.

“Are you ready to listen now?”

Finally peeling your gaze away from his twitching cock, you look up at him to see him staring down at you with the same intensity.

“Yes.” You whisper, suddenly grateful for promised instruction now that you’ve been properly thrown for a loop. Perhaps you should have branched out to fucking with alphas at least once, just to know the difference properly. Because now you feel like a proper virgin waiting for their first lesson on giving a blow job.

Surprisingly there is one feeling that rises higher than your trepidation.

Curiosity.

Somehow the challenge before you sparks a further interest. A need to map out every part of his body until it has become less mysterious. Until it feels familiar beneath your hands.

And as if Neteyam can read your thoughts, he says, “You can explore now, tiyawn. Take your time.”

Take your time. Not the direction you would expect from a male whose cock is fully hard and jerking against his lower stomach. You had thought all alphas to be forceful, wanting to claim and fuck in a quick and dirty fashion. But Neteyam stays true to his word when your hands slowly travel up his thighs.

You are given more than enough time to familiarize yourself with the area. You start small, running the pads of your fingers down his muscular abdomen to feel each and every muscle there. Then once a little bit of confidence has been regained they come to rest around his base.

The dark blue shade of his skin elegantly bleeds into a beautiful purple the closer to the tip it goes. All to then end on a subdued shade of pink along his head and balls. Even without the moonlight you can make out the small tanhi that dot along his skin. They lead along the side, creating a trail beside the thick vein lacing the underside of this cock before fanning out around the tip. As if they were perfectly crafted to entice your eyes towards the prize.

Neteyam’s tail lashes the first time you run your fingers over him. His arousal is an essence that infiltrates the very air around you like a thick cloud. Surely he must be anxious for you to hurry up, but the prince keeps his body strictly in place for your exploration.

It is only when he catches your tongue swiping over your bottom lip that he speaks up.

“You can use your tongue, tiyawn.” With an inaudible gasp you pull back in surprise, practically forgetting he was there. An amused grin shows off his pearly white teeth, never faltering as you hesitate for a moment. “Are you feeling shy, princess?”

“No.” You bite back even as your stomach does a somersault.

“Remember, I will guide you. No need to stress.” His fingers run through your scalp and in spite of how good that feels you rear back and glare at him.

You don’t need help. And you sure as hell are not shy. So what if you are a little caught off guard? That does not give him the right to treat you like an omega virgin ripe for the picking.

So you draw forward and boldly draw the flat of your tongue slowly from the base to tip. Much like he had done between your own thighs. Because much like him, you are not afraid and you are not one to hand the reins over easily.

What you do not anticipate is how the taste of him blossoms over your tastebuds. It sends a thrill through you that is difficult to conceal as you go in for another taste. It gets sloppy very quickly. The moment you try to take the head into your mouth, your nerves get the better of you and that ends up making you draw back.

Just in time as Neteyam slots a hand in your dark locks and grabs hold of the roots. “Why are you rushing, omega?”

“I am not.”

“Follow my directions. No need to prove yourself.” He says, but he already wears a crooked smirk.

It continues like this back and forth until you are finally tired of having your head yanked back by your hair so you wait for his instructions. Neteyam is meticulous in the way he has you explore, the way he forces you to taste him before even giving you the chance to take him into your mouth.

But when you do finally take in the first few inches your inner omega springs forth without reserve. You feel every ridge and vein of his cock as they slip past your outstretched lips. And that stretch, that utterly deniable feeling of being stretched full, is what has you drawing in for more.

Before now being on your knees has always felt like a place of power. You’ve riddle men down to whimpering messes just by the skilled trace of your tongue. You’ve swallowed everything they’ve had to give while they’ve sung curses to the sky. It is them that is rendered entirely insatiable as you hold their pleasure in the palm of your hand.

It doesn’t feel that way now.

It’s hard to determine what he awakens within you but every time you are pulled off of his cock and told to take a moment to breathe, it is you that feels insatiable. You figured it would get better once Neteyam fell deep enough into his own ecstasy but somehow the evidence of his pleasure only escalates your own addiction. You can never get enough of him.

Never will you tire of seeing his magnificent neck on display when he throws his head back with a rumbled groan. Never will you suck down the taste of him enough to satisfy your carnal desires. And never will there be a more magnificent feeling than the wash of his praise over you as your throat contracts and you gags around him.

It is him that leaves you ravenous.

“All the way down now, princess. That’s it, you can take it.”

You’d take just about anything this man says at gospel at this point. A fact that is evident by the way you no longer hesitate to sheath him down your throat when commanded. And when those sinfully gorgeous hips start to move, you fight every need for breath and simply let him fuck your throat without complaint.

In fact it is you that complains when you are given a chance to breathe, tears streaking down your face and drool coating your chin.

“No whining.” Neteyam tsks, wagging a finger playfully. It would normally piss you off but now it only registers as the absence of praise. So when he continues to the pattern, moaning and bucking his hips only to pull off seconds later, you bite back the urge to cry and beg for his cum. “Just get me wet, princess. Tongue out. There you go.”

It makes no sense, but then again that seems to be the theme when it comes to Neteyam. He demands you suck him off only to deny you the pleasure of feeling him shoot down your throat. Your pretty face is nothing but a mess of tears and spit when he finally rears you back for the last time. For a moment it seems possible he will jerk himself off and finish across your face or pinched nipples but his next direction has your tail tucking.

“There’s my good girl. Now stand up for me.”

“Neteyam.” You whine but he is quick to grab hold of that crystal chain and force you to your feet as your nipples ache.

“Are you still wet for me, omega? Spread your legs.” He slides a hand between your thighs to inspect the evidence of just how aroused you truly are. “Very good girl.” He grins against your ear, as if he didn’t already know how desperate he has made you.

It’s only a second of attention to your clit before he is taking your hand and dragging you through the forest.

Neteyam has always been known for being meticulous. Or in Lo’ak’s words, obsessive. He has lived his life with a plan and great attention to detail. So when he has you following him, your hand in his own, he can’t help but look for the perfect spot to take you. The ideal place where he can admire you spread out for him and finally experience what it is to be inside of that sweet little body.

He’s pleased to find you put up no fuss when he coerces you onto your stomach with your face down and ass up. In fact, your spine curves as you look back at him, a seductive gleam in your eyes that says you are still not above playing games to get what you want.

“M’ready.” You sigh against the grass, tail curling upwards to give him access. It may as well be the equivalent of snapping your fingers in a fetching command. Regardless, Neteyam decides to let you off this time, especially when you are creating the most gorgeous display for him.

Your pussy clenches around open air, your cunt an absolute mess that has dripped down between your thighs. There is no mistaking what you want.

But that doesn’t mean that is what you’re going to get.

You don’t immediately react when he uses both hands to knead and spread your plump cheeks apart, but when he begins to push a finger at your tightest hole, you squeak and draw back. With a stern hand gripping your hip he pulls you back against him where he kneels. Tentatively you trust him once more only to squirm when he only sticks his fingers into your pussy in order to collect your slick arousal and spread it between your cheeks.

“Neteyam!”

“Mawey, princess. You’ll like it, I promise.” And you will, despite your better judgment.

“No, not there!” Were it not for the hazy glow he has you in now you surely would claw his eyes out for even suggesting such a thing but with his thumb reaching down to rub at your sensitive clit, your defenses are greatly weakened.

“And why not, tiyawn?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You drawl with a whine.

“And I am.” Neteyam slinks up so his chest is pressed against your back, pushing away your hair so he can whisper in your ear. “I am going to fuck my spoiled brat until the only words she can manage to utter are thank you and my name.”

You sputter at his sensual words, pussy trying to clamp around the finger that swirls through your juices.

“But that’s…t-that’s not what I mean.”

“Are you nervous, tiyawn?”

“N-no.”

“No male has ever tried to stretch this little hole before, have they?”

You simply attempt to tuck your face away from him as it turns a lovely shade of red. Neteyam grins and kisses your cheek.

“I am going to take every first you have left, princess. I will fuck all of your holes over and over again, including this naughty little hole.” A shudder ripples through your trapped frame. “Your greedy pussy too but the first time I do that we will bonded beneath Vitraya Ramunong so until then…” He grips your hip to keep you in place when his lubed finger finally starts pushing past that clenching rim.

“Breathe oeyӓ tiyawn.” He hushes your whines. It takes considerable effort to coax you into relaxing for him but Neteyam finds that the right amount of praise and gentle kisses seems to get the job done.

Fuck, you are so incredibly tight! It feels as if you are trying to cut off the circulation in his fingers as he adds another. His heart races at those pulsing walls around his cock. You do nothing to aid his patience as little pants filtering from your lips and soon your eyes are fluttering closed.

You won’t want to admit it, but this new pleasure has you entirely hooked. A strange sensation no doubt, and even uncomfortable at times he can tell as you struggle to take a third finger but so too do you eventually start pushing your hips back against the intrusion.

Holding you in place is no longer required, allowing his other hand to slip to the front of your body and resume strumming your clit. Grass becomes intertwined with the sparkling crystals in your hair due to the way you keep turning your head to whine and squirm.

“I wish you could see how perfect you look like this. Sweet little ass sucking in my fingers like it was made for this. I knew I’d see you like this someday, my pretty brat learning to behave.”

“F-fuck you.” You sputter.

Neteyam can’t even find it within himself to be mad when you are clenching around him like this. He’ll take care of that naughty mouth soon, but for now he is content to focus on making your body fully submit to him.

“As you wish, omega.”

The prince pulls his fingers out and makes sure to spread more of your natural lube over his cock. He feels like he could bust any moment just looking at your hole clenching at the loss. The gleam in your eyes when he lines the head of his cock up to your tightest hole gives him all the information he needs to know.

“Teyam!” You gasp just before his head makes it past the entrance.

“Doing so good for me, omega. Stay nice and relaxed.”

“It’s not going to fit.” The protest is greatly undermined by the way your pussy leaks juices down your thigh.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it fit.”

And true to his word, Neteyam patiently rears forward and rubs sinful circles over your clit until his pelvis is cushioned by your plush ass.

“Oh my Eywa!” You quiver, thighs no longer doing the work to keep you up.

“What was it you said about getting off your ass?”

“You fucking…Oh…asshole.” Your insults are barely tangible as he begins with shallow thrusts. “Oh my…oh…aahh.”

“Different than you thought, isn’t it?” He smirks, but even he has to close his eyes and take a moment to breathe. Your walls cinch around him so tightly it feels as if you're trying to strangle his cock. Even his shallow thrusts take considerable effort, even more difficult not to prematurely fill you with his seed every time those gummy walls pulse. “Deep breathes. Let yourself enjoy it.”

“M-more.”

His ears perk, wondering if he has misheard you.

“What was-”

“More! Move now! Move fucking now I swear-” The air is punched from your lungs when he harshly rears back to the tip before plunging himself all the way inside again. The noise that escapes you is one he has never heard before and he knows for a fact that it rings loud enough through the trees for the others to detect.

Grasping a handful of hair he pulls you up onto your knees so that your back is flush against his chest. From this vantage point he can see the crystal chain sparkling in the sunlight.

“Is that any way to ask for what you want?” He rumbles against your ear.

The sound of clapping skin echoes through the forest as you eagerly push yourself back against his now brutal pace.

“Teyamteyamteyam,” Comes your endless spew, head thrown back against his shoulder. He’s too lost in his own ecstasy to chew you out for not answering his question. Instead he roughly manhandles you off of his cock and pushes you to lay down on your back.

“But-”

Legs thrown around his waist he sinks back inside to the hilt. “You need to learn some fucking patience, princess.”

“I’m sorryyyyy!” You drawl but those little hands are already grasp at his biceps, demanding that he slots himself closer. Looking down he swears he can practically see his cock moving in your stomach.

“How are these pretty tits doing, hm?” Swooping down, he leaves sloppy kisses around your secured nipples, groaning when your fingers claws at his hair to pull him closer. “Tell me the truth now, princess. Tell me how much you love me my cock in your ass.”

He knows you're far gone when a response comes back without any fight. “I love..ngh..ah…I love your cock in my ass. Don’t stop, alpha. Pleasepleaseplease.”

“Take a breath for me.” He commands softly and the second you comply he undoes both claps in tandem. In some ways he has heard that taking them off is more painful than putting them on. If that is true, you must have a secret love for such pain because you bare down on him so hard that it takes everything within him not to bust inside of you.

“Fuck!” You curse, yanking him down impossibly closer. “Neteyam!”

“Good girl, princess. My good girl.” He murmurs between sloppy kisses laid on your chest. He licks gently over your pointed nipples in efforts to soothe them.

Neteyam’s own patience is quickly unraveling but he wants to come in time with you. He wants you to squirt across him as he paints your walls white. So with his own breaths coming out in pants and hips ricketing at a desperate speed, he reaches between you and assaults that little bundle of nerves.

“Come on, brat. Do as you're told for once and come for me.”

You steal the very air from his lungs. Your silky walls milk him dry as you come around him. Stars dot his vision and his abdomen flexes at the pure pressure of his own release. He spills himself inside of you as your nails dig into his shoulder blades.

When he finally does come down from that high, your grip won’t release. His name is a whispered mantra on your lips as you pull his heavy body atop of yours. He falls without resistance, crushing you beneath him.

You’re overwhelmed. It makes him both proud and spiteful that no other male has truly managed to get you into this floaty state before. From the way you claw at him as if he is the very oxygen you rely on, it’s clear you don’t know how to handle such new intense emotions. To think you’ve gone so many years without truly satisfying your omega.

“I’ve got you, omega. Your alpha’s here.” He tries to prop himself up on an elbow to relieve some of his body weight from you, but that has your panic rising. With an endless draw of sweet nothings he presses himself back down just in time for your lips to demand his.

That anxiety gradually smoothes away the longer he indulges the impromptu makeout session. When his tongue swirls around yours, your movements become more leisurely. Even the very nature of the kiss becomes lazy while you softly play with his neat braids.

“Teyam…”

“Yes princess?” He checks to make sure your breathing has finally turned back to normal after pulling away.

“I’m ready to sleep.” You say as a matter of fact.

“No tiyawn we still-” It’s too late. Chest somehow managing to rise and fall beneath his weight and eyes fluttered closed, you are dead to the world. Very typical fashion for you to simply state your wants as reality without waiting for any protests.

He rolls his eyes fondly before carefully situating both of you onto your sides. His legs feel like thin vines walloping in the wind. Neteyam has to hold back a groan when he finally manages to slip out of you. Bathing in the sunlight with you tucked against his side, he allows himself one moment to recover and bask in the feeling.

And when that moment is gone, he does everything in his power to dress and clean up both of you without disturbing your slumber. Your hair is still tangled and the echoing screams are sure to be enough evidence of what has happened between you two but when he walks out carrying you bridal style, he playfully glares at the other males who are anxious to make their teasing comments. They will beat him up about it later, for now it is important that you sleep.

With narrowed eyes and a hiss he demands their silence before he situates you in front of him on the pa’li. Facing sideways on the horse you snuggle closer in your sleep, body shivering. You only wake for a second so that he can slip his thick poncho over the both of you. This way you are kept warm and eyes are shielded from the sun as you sleep.

“Well?” Tak’nal, his second in command, asks with a raised brow.

“Problem solved.” Neteyam says simply. “Let’s go home.”

Writing this felt like a fever dream😂🫠 Please don't be shy, let me know what you think😚💗

Unofficial Taglist: @pandoraslxna @ikeyniofthetayrangi @plantgirliewholovespandora @nakedinthetrees

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whore4gwen · 9 months ago

Note

Can I request a Smut with Alcina and reader where reader was actually sent to eliminate Alcina but then Alcina kinda like catches and hate fucks her? Only consensual ofc but something akin to enemies to lovers?

🐰-anon

𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙･ﾟ･｡

A/N: I LOVE this idea omg?? I’m so incredibly sorry for how long it actually took me to write this. With my classes starting up again, I’ve been so overwhelmed and busy.

This may not be exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!

Tags: Enemies to lovers dynamic, talks of death & torture, teasing, blood, fear play (?), praise kink, submissive/ dominant dynamics, top Alcina, bottom reader, unwanted yearning, delusions, fingering, degradation if you squint, hand riding, daddy Alcina vibes, ambiguous ending, I think that’s it lmk if I missed any!!

Word count: 2.4K

I apologize for any grammar mistakes, as of current it’s unedited, but I’m so tired so I’ll do it later tomorrow.

———————————————————————-

You had one mission. One seemingly normal, manageable mission.

All you needed to do was observe her, and gather as much information as you could about her.

Alcina Dimitrescu.

That name did wonders. It almost excited you as much as it infuriated you. The damn nerve of that woman was what drove you so impossibly close to the edge.

Her heated gaze burnt into the back of your mind. Gold ripples clouds your vision.

You didn’t have time for this. Any of it really. Chris, along with several other BSSA members would be there any day to take them out. Every monstrosity they call ‘family’.

In the four short weeks at Castle Dimitrescu, you unintentionally became Alcina’s head maiden.

How you managed to accomplish that was beyond you. It did make you wonder. You hadn’t exactly done anything in particular to acquire such a position from the mistress of the castle. Your mind buzzed with possibilities. Was she onto you? No. Of course she wasn’t, she couldn’t be, could she?

With shaky hands, you took a deep breath trying to further compose yourself. The portable tray in your hands suddenly feels like a ton of bricks.

The lady was expecting her afternoon tea and isn’t too keen on waiting. Her patience grew weary by the moment.

Slowly you brought your right hand and gently knocked on the brooding wood that distinguishes right from wrong, safe and dangerous.

A muffled “Come in,” filled the unorthodox silence. Leisurely you opened the door, making sure to keep your eyes lowered as you approached the ornate vanity, and set down the tray.

Lady Dimitrescu’s predatory gaze burned holes as she watched you intently. Seemingly lost in her trance, she doesn’t realize when you’re standing right in front of her, tea cup in hand.

“Lady Dimitrescu?” you said questioningly, curious where her mind might be.

“Yes, sorry, dear. Thank you.” She replies quickly, taking the seemingly hand painted tea cup. A faint metallic smell infiltrated the small space between you. It was no secret what the lady of the castle preferred in her afternoon tea. Regardless, a shiver ran down your spine at the mere thought of who that could be.

“Is that all my lady?” You asked as you made your way back to the vanity to retrieve the silver tray.

“Actually, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.” She said slowly. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

As if you even have a choice in the matter. Alcina Dimitrescu, always playing with her food. Utterly ridiculous.

“Something makes me think it’s not really up for debate, is it?” You ask knowingly, growing a bit bold.

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She responds teasingly, while smirking. Vague as ever.

Even though she’s a ruthless vile woman, whos committed several dozen atrocities, you have to admit, she’s painfully attractive

Beauty and confidence radiate off her, making her all the more alluring. The air around her is absolutely intoxicating. You know it’s wrong, but you just can’t help yourself.

Tirelessly, you try to derail your mind that convinces you, you need more, that you need her..

Each and every humaneless act she’s committed plays before your eyes, yet the image of a broken woman stuck in her own mortality alway wins.

“Well, I hope I can acquire whatever you desire to know.” You reply plainly.

She eyes you almost cautiously. Observing you shamelessly. Her heated gaze makes you all too aware of the situation you’re in. The danger, the unknown, the claws of a monster.

Red paints your vision. For a moment, you feel you might just lose consciousness. A terrible feeling churning in your gut. This could go one of two ways. Either you talk and she miraculously lets you go or you talk and she uses your blood as wall decorum. One option seeming more likely than the other.

“Oh don’t play coy with me, darling. I have a brain, you know.” She says suddenly breaking the silence. “I must admit though, you do have a good facade. Dare I even say, you almost fooled me.”

Option two then.

Your heart beated rapidly at the confrontation. A dull ringing sounded in your ears. This is as close to death as you ever want to get. If you make it out alive, Chris will never hear the end of this.

You opened your mouth to speak, but just as fast as it opened, it shut. You were genuinely at a loss of words. She’s a clever woman, sure, but how did she know? Or even better, how long has she known? And if awhile, why hasn’t she sent you to the cellar?

Your impending doom hung above your head as your mind scrambled to find any sort of excuse, or anything really to get yourself out of this situation, with all your limbs intact.

“Don’t go all shy now, pet.” Lady Dimitrescu says as she leans closer, filling the gap between the two of you.

Pet? Your brain nearly short circuited at the nickname. “I.. I..” You mumbled lamley, still trying to formulate a coherent sentence. Unfortunately, there really wasn’t anything you could say or do to protect yourself. All you could do now was draw your inevitable death out for as long as you can.

“You know, I considered killing you when I found out. Or maybe sending you to the cellar to be my daughter's newest plaything.” Lady Dimitrescu says lowly. “But..” she drags out slowly, anticipation and fear consuming you as you waited for what she would say next.

“But?..” You repeated slowly, wondering what else she could possibly say.

You subconsciously leaned forward slightly, hanging on each and every word that spilled from her crimson lips. Exactly as she wanted. Eagerness coursed through your body like electricity.

“But, I thought something better. After all, it would be a shame to dispose of such beauty.” She finally responded, once again leaving suspense in the air.

Like a pole nailed to the ground, you were so impossibly still; you even forgot to blink. What exactly did she mean by that, you thought to yourself.

Lady Dimtrescu throws her head back in laughter at the apparent confusion painted along your face.

“Come here, now.” She demanded, no longer laughing as she was momentarily.

Quickly, deciding to keep your head as long as you could, you were standing in front of Lady Dimitrescu in seconds.

“Good.” She praised with a fond smile, and by the Gods, was she a sight to see.

“Now then, I’m going to tell you exactly how this is going to go. Do you understand me?” She asked authoritatively, leaving no room for retort.

While maintaining eye contact, you haphazardly nodded your head in understanding.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You’re going to have to do much better than that. Use your words like the big girl you are.” She responded.

Nervously, you swallowed the lump residing in your throat, “Y-yes, Lady Dimitrescu.” you whispered.

“Good girl.” She praised in return.

Her affirmation made your head fuzzy and core ache with want. There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. Whatever happened to her being the enemy?

Smirking, she grabbed the side of your face and ran her pale, slender finger down the expanse of your jaw, hooking two fingers under your chin and forcing your eyes to meet.

Your skin felt hot. Feverishly so, almost like you were lit on fire. Her burning gaze keeps you trapped in a fevernet daze. There’s no going back now, not even if you really wanted to.

“How about we play a little game?” She asked slyly.

A game? What kind of game? One wear she ruthlessly tears my head off? Or maybe chases me around the castle for sport? I’m not sure I'd like to play any ‘game’ with her, you thought to yourself.

“What do you have in mind?” You asked cautiously, but curiously.

For a moment, she was silent. Her eyes tracing your figure up and down. It was hard to read her, she had an impressive poker face, but as the lady of the castle you didn’t expect anything less. Alcina was a force of nature, which was what made her so incredibly dangerous.

A beat.

The palpable silence was consuming.

Then suddenly Lady Dimitrescu raised her hand and firmly patted her curvy thigh, “Sit.” she said indifferently.

Strangely, you’re more scared of sitting on her thigh than her slicing you into millions of bits and pieces. There was absolutely no way you were about to sit on Alcina Dimitrescu’s thigh.

Wide eyed, you stared at Lady Dimitrescu astounded. You almost couldn’t believe what was happening, no, you couldn’t believe it. Surly, this is some sick and twisted dream your mind conjured to torture you. You weren’t exactly into her, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least morbidly curious about her.

“I don’t like repeating myself, dear.” She said mockingly, your distress clearly fueling her. She wasn’t quite sure yet, but something reeled her in. She was almost certain had you been anyone else you’d be long gone by now. But this was different, you were different.

Slowly but surely you made your way to the large pristine chair, and hoisted yourself onto the expanse of her leg. Embarrassed, you faced away from her and diverted your gaze to the floor.

Expertly, Lady Dimitrescu wrapped her arm around your waist and pulled you flush against her front. Heat burns your cheeks at the quick action.

“Much better.” She purred in your ear as she slowly licked the shell.

Heat went straight to your core as you tried to close your thighs. You couldn’t help but squirm at the feeling of her hot breath down your neck.

Her hand drew lazy patterns on your leg as she slowly bought her hand up to where you desperately wanted her.

“Do you want it?’ She asked in a hushed voice as if she didn’t already know the answer.

Yes. Of course you wanted it, even if it was against your better judgment. Figuratively and literally, you undeniably fucked. There was no way in hell you’d be able to tell Chris about this. You’d most likely lose your job and any shred of dignity you have after this.

A groan slipped past your lips, “yes.”

“Yes what? What do you want?” She replied teasingly. She wanted to poke and prod till you burst. She knew exactly what buttons to push to evoke a reaction.

Your brain fogged with indescribable want. The neurons in your brain failing to cooperate and make any logical response.

“You.” you said needily, almost like a whine. Oh how pathetic you looked. She hadn’t even done anything and you were already ever so desperate for her. She loved it, craved it even.

So submissive, so compliant.

“What do you want me to do, darling?” She asked in response. Of course she knew, but how amusing would it be to make you voice it to her?

“Anything, just do anything, please.” You begged while clenching your thighs once again. You were sure your core was absolutely dripping by now.

“Begging are we?” She asked rhetorically. You could practically hear her shit eating smile.

How she loved it when you begged. The sound was addicting to put it plainly. She could definitely get used to hearing it.

Finally, she brought her hand all the way up your thigh to your aching center. Her slender finger rubbing your folds through the fabric of your underwear.

You gasped at the sudden contact as you pushed yourself closer to her.

“Oh my, you’re absolutely drenched.” She teased. “Is this all for me?” She asked breathily in your ear, just as before,

All you could do was nod in response., your mind too taken with the way her fingers felt against you.

Seemingly tired of the foreplay, Lady Dimitrescu pushed the side of your black lacy thong to the side, exposing your glistening core. A chill ran down your spine at the sudden change in temperature.

“Absolutely beautiful, darling.” She praised as she ran her middle finger through your folds. A low moan erupted from your chest at the notion.

“More, I need more..” You begged, feeling yourself grow impatient.

A smirk plastered on her face as Lady Dimitrescu had a borderline evil idea. “As you wish.” She replied as she quickly plunged two fingers into your soaping core.

You threw your head back onto her shoulder at the rough treatment moaning loudly. Her pace was bruising, but the stretch was undeniably delicious. There was something so attractive about Lady Dimitrescu man handling you.

As she continued,your moans were near pornographic. You were sure anyone in the castle knew what the lady was up to. Not that you care all that much, but it’s still a bit embarrassing.

Your hips jerked up into her hand as she used her palm to apply more pressure on your swollen clit. You felt euphoric. There was nothing in the world you could compare to the way Lady Dimitrescu was making you feel. Even if she did kill you when she was finished, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She asked while prepping kisses down your neck.

You moaned in response, not being able to form a coherent response.

“Good girl.” She uttered whilst kissing your cheek. “You’re doing so good for me, darling.” She encouraged.

“Come undone for me, show me how much of a needy whore you are for me.” She said as she curled her fingers into your sweet spot.

As if her plethora of praise wasn’t enough, she was so precise, so experienced with her fingers.

With one final thrust, you came all over her fingers. Your juices running down her hand, and ruining your underwear.

She finished with a few slow thrusts while you rode out your high. Once your breath evened out, she skillfully removed her fingers from your core.

“You did wonderfully.” She praised once again while placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

This Lady Dimitrescu was foreign. Incomprehensible even. And yet, for some reason, you adored her this way. Soft spoken and light, she almost seemed human, almost.

What’s to come after this is completely beyond you, all you can do is pray it’ll all come full circle.

#resident evil 8 #alcina dimitrescu #re8 #resident evil #alcina dimitriscu x reader #shameless smut #enimes to lovers #alcina #alcina x reader #gwendoline christie #lady alcina dimitrescu #re8 village #wlw fanfic #resident evil village

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itsnesss · 1 month ago

Note

Hii babe, I have another little request if you’re taking them!

Could you write something Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader where she’s super stressed because she’s about to take her final exams (like the French bac) and she hasn’t started revising at all?? It’s literally in a month, and she feels completely overwhelmed and behind.Like she’s spiraling a bit, maybe crying over highlighters and making dramatic “I’m gonna fail” speeches while Kimi just tries to calm her down and support her. Maybe he helps her organize her revision or just stays with her through the stress, reminding her that she’s smart and capable even if she doesn’t feel like it.Basically soft academic panic + golden retriever boyfriend energy. Only if it inspires you of course!! But I’d love that dynamic.

𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | final exams in a month, panic sets in tears, chaos, and dramatic speeches. kimi stays, calms, organizes, and reminds: you're capable

warnings | gf!reader, academic stress, panic attack elements (crying, overwhelm), comfort, fluff, golden retriever boyfriend energy

word count | 1.5 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇 f1 masterlist

You're surrounded by highlighters. One is drying out on the edge of the bed without its cap, another is chewed between your fingers, and several more are scattered across the desk like witnesses to a crime.

Your notes are everywhere: some open on the floor, others crumpled, one pinned to the wall with washi tape like that’s going to help you absorb information through osmosis.

Your heart is pounding, your eyes are burning, and your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. You don’t even know where to start. You haven’t touched a single flashcard, haven’t opened the first topic, and the bac is in a month. One month. Thirty days. What can you do in thirty days? Go over the entire syllabus? Prepare text commentaries? Review philosophy, history, math? Sleep? No. Sleep is no longer an option.

You feel your throat burn. You're about to cry for the third time this afternoon—and it’s because of a damn dried-up highlighter.

And then, you hear the door open.

"Hey, amore..." says a familiar voice, soft, almost carefree.

Kimi walks in with a bag of croissants in one hand and his jacket slung over his shoulder. He has that smile he always wears when he sees you... but it fades the moment he takes in the disaster that is your room. And you.

"What happened here?"

You turn with a kind of hysterical laugh caught in your throat.

"What happened?" you repeat, your eyes wide. "Kimi, the bac is in a month! A month! And I haven’t started anything! I’m completely lost, I’m going to fail, my life is going to be ruined, I won’t get into university, and I’ll end up… I don’t know! Selling defective highlighters from a street stall while crying!"

You toss a tissue at your face and sigh. You're being dramatic you know it. But you're so overwhelmed you can’t help it. Everything feels too big, too hard, and you feel so, so small in front of it.

Kimi walks toward you carefully, like he’s afraid of spooking you.

"Are you crying because of…?"

"Yes, because of a highlighter!" you yell, pointing at the pastel yellow one that has tragically died on the floor. "It was dry and that was the last straw!"

He lets out a soft laugh and crouches beside you. With the kind of tenderness only he has, he runs a thumb over your damp cheek and wipes away the tear.

"At least you cry in style," he says, and you let out a choked laugh between sobs.

"Don’t make fun of me," you mumble, letting yourself fall against him. Your forehead rests against his chest, and you feel his arm wrap around you.

"I’d never do that. I'm here for this, right? To hold you while the world falls apart because of some exams."

He closes his eyes and rests his chin on your head. His voice, calm, steady, warm, filters through your chaotic thoughts like an anchor.

"You’re going to be okay. I promise. We’ll do this together, okay?"

You don’t say anything, but your hand clutches his shirt. Because even though everything in your head is spinning out of control... he always manages to stop the chaos, at least a little.

You don’t know how long you stay curled up against him. It could be minutes or an eternity. All you hear is his calm, steady breathing, like he’s trying to regulate yours with his. And in a way, it works. Your heart no longer beats with the same violence, and the tears though not completely gone have stopped flowing uncontrollably.

"Does your head hurt?" he asks quietly.

You nod, not lifting your face from his shirt. His hand moves gently across your back, drawing little circles that, for the first time in hours, make you feel like you’re not alone in this wreckage.

"Okay, listen," he says softly, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. "I know it all feels like a giant mountain right now, but we can break it down. Step by step. Day by day. I’ll help you, amore. Want to start?"

"I don’t even know where…" you whisper, voice cracking.

"From the beginning. Tell me which subjects you need to prepare."

You take a breath, pull back slightly, and look at your desk in resignation.

"Literature, history, philosophy, english, geo, and math."

Kimi nods like it’s not a monstrous list.

"Perfect. Then we’re going to make a schedule. A real one. With breaks, time to breathe, and…" he reaches into the bag he left on the desk, "croissants as rewards."

You can’t help but laugh.

"You’re going to motivate me with pastries?"

"I’m going to motivate you with love and pastries. Which is objectively better than any educational system."

He hands you his phone, already open on a scheduling app. You look at it, surprised.

"You had this ready?"

"I know you, amore. I had a feeling."

You start dividing the days by subjects, assigning realistic study hours, leaving room for breaks, and marking small “rewards” at the end of each day. Kimi does it all with infinite patience, listening without judgment, suggesting instead of imposing.

"This is insane," you whisper at some point, watching the schedule take shape.

"No," he corrects you, taking your hand, "this is what you do when you decide to fight instead of give up. And you always fight even when you cry over highlighters."

You sigh. There’s still a pinch of anxiety in your chest, but it no longer fills the whole space. Because now he’s there, sharing it with you.

"What if I don’t make it? What if I run out of time?"

"Then we’ll improvise. Or you’ll do your best. Because you’re brilliant, even if you don’t feel like it today. I know that. And I’m not going anywhere. Even if you have to study twenty hours straight and yell at me because you don’t understand Rousseau."

You look at him. He has that soft, silly smile that always disarms you.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Don’t thank me yet," he replies, standing up to grab your flashcards. "The battle against the note mountain hasn’t even started. But don’t worry. I brought reinforcements. And croissants."

You laugh. For the first time in days, you truly laugh.

And while he starts sorting your notebooks by color, as if that were a war tactic… you realize maybe you can do this.

Because you have Kimi. And with him, everything feels a little less impossible.

Days passed. Some were chaotic, full of tears, existential dread, and internal battles with the voice in your head telling you you wouldn’t make it. Others were miraculously productive, with full hours of focus, checkmarks on your calendar, and that almost-forgotten feeling of progress.

But the best part was that Kimi was there for all of it.

He became your official study partner. He sat beside you, even if he didn’t understand a single word of your philosophy texts. He read your outlines, quizzed you, and gave you a kiss every time you got one right. He learned how to pronounce Spinoza without laughing and ended up having opinions about Victor Hugo. More than once, you caught him doodling nonsense in the margins of your pages while you reviewed.

"Is this a philosophical pig?"

"No, it’s Descartes… in cochon mignon version," he replied seriously, like it made perfect sense.

And you laughed. You laughed so hard you forgot, for a second, all the stress.

That particular night, you were both lying on your bedroom floor. Your notes were stacked, and your head was resting on his lap. He was stroking your hair absentmindedly while you repeated phrases quietly.

"‘L’homme est condamné à être libre…’" you murmured.

"That guy sounds intense," he said, and you smiled.

"It’s Sartre."

"Couldn’t he just say ‘do what you want but take responsibility’?"

"Wouldn’t be existentialism if it were that easy to digest."

"Touché," he said, kissing your forehead.

You fall silent for a few seconds. Your eyes sting a little from exhaustion, and that familiar twinge of insecurity creeps in.

"Do you really think I can do this?"

Kimi stops stroking your hair and makes you look at him.

"Y/N… I don’t think. I know. You’re smart—smarter than you give yourself credit for. You’re scared, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re not capable. Look at you: you’ve been fighting this for days, organizing, reviewing, moving forward. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re scared. You keep going. And not everyone does that."

You feel a knot form in your throat. You’re not sure if it’s because of his words, his voice, or the way he looks at you like you're everything good in the world packed into one person.

"Can I give up for just a little bit?"

"You can give up for as long as you need," he whispers. "And I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to start again."

You wrap your arms around him tightly. And for a moment, between notes, highlighters, and philosophical theories, you feel safe.

And just a little bit braver.

#🖇️ kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x you #kimi antonelli imagine #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli one shot #kimi antonelli #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader

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gilverrwrites · 1 year ago

Note

If that ask was too long and elaborate, I have another one!

What about a fic with Batman, where the reader finds out she’s pregnant and doesn’t know how to tell Bruce since he already has mature/ teenager kids and she doesn’t know if he wants to raise one from the infant stage to adulthood.

She kinda overthinks about it and distance herself from Bruce. He notice it and when she would confess, to her surprise, Bruce would get super exited!

What I don't understand

AN: I'm back baby! At least partly, my hand is still on and off achy so I won't we posting as activiely as I have previously. I've done so much research on pregnancy that all my adds are now of pregancy tests, fertilitie test, baby stuff, I'm worried my bf might start to suspect that I'm pregnant which would be akward Bruce Wayne/F!Reader, 3.9K words CW: Husband/Wife dynamic, pregnancy, feet (none sexual), mentions of vomit, body dysmorphia, lying/sneaking around, prenatal anxiety/depression, martial problems, swearing. Fluffy ending tho!

Pregnancy brain is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Or maybe that's insanity, who knows? You ponder the thought as you fidget with the flimsy cardboard packaging of the pregnancy test you're awaiting the results of as if you don't know the answer. You'd already taken countless tests, trialling different brands in the hopes of a different outcome but every single one of them had confirmed your situation with variations on lines and plus signs. They'd never offered you a negative, and yet you keep trying.

There was no denying it, and pretty soon there would be no hiding. You were fast approaching the end of your first trimester at 9 weeks but had only found out about a month ago. The task of informing Bruce while there was still time to act seems to grow bigger and scarier with each passing day. Not to mention; it's becoming increasingly obvious that he already suspected something is wrong.

3 weeks ago:

The cold tile against your aching feet felt like ecstasy. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and lean against the wall, relishing in every second of release as you awaited Jason’s return.

You’d spend hours hiding your pain, precariously balancing in a pair of heels as you kept up appearances during a charity event being held at the manor. Bruce was currently being cornered by a visiting dignitary, and as bad as you felt leaving him alone, it might have been your only chance. You’d slipped away to an off-limits hallway, grasping Jason who had drawn the short straw for event appearances along the way. Once out of view to your guests you’d begged him to retrieve a pair of pumps from your bedroom, the petty prospect of keeping it secret from, and thus getting a one-up on his adoptive father being the primary motivator. That, and he owed you, a lot, for defusing many situations in which he and your husband had butted heads.

The weight of your discarded shoes hung heavily from your fingers, you hadn’t realised how weighty they were. A shame, because they were so pretty. They were a gift from Bruce, strappy and bedazzled, the perfect colour to match your dress. Another pair for your ever-expanding collection, he’d always favoured gifting you shoes and purses, and you certainly didn’t mind, at least not until your ankles had begun swelling at the mere notion of being used for their primary function.

“Are you okay? You seem off.” Jason’s voice returning to the hall made you jump out of your stupor, and he watched with concern as you tucked your heels behind a curtain and slipped into the flats he’d brought you.

“Fine, fine.” You smile, patting his arm with a reassuring smile. “Just didn’t wear those in properly and now I’m paying the price.”

“Right.” He still seemed dubious and was about to say something else when a door creeks open, redirecting both of your attention.

Bruce stood in the doorway, stern, arms crossed. He glares at the both of you, he and Jason have a very similar glare. His eyes focus in on you, identifying you as the main culprit, his gaze roves across your form, lingering on your feet for an uncomfortably long time before speaking.

“If I have to suffer through this, so do the two of you.” He points behind him. “In.”

Jason’s face is obscured as he takes the lead, but Bruce must not like his expression because his frown seems to deepen.

You followed close behind, careful not to step on the hem of your dress now that you lack the additional six inches the heels had offered but your integration back into the crowd is halted. Bruce traced his hand along your back, cupping the curve of your waist and directing you to a lesser populated spot amongst the outskirts of your visitants.

The stony look on his face was gone, replaced with a polite smile for the crowd and softer eyes for you.

“What happened to your shoes?” His voice was low, in-perceivable to anyone but yourself.

“My feet were sore is all.” It’s not a lie.

“Too sore for dancing?” He asks, voice as slick as silk and you don’t want to agree but yes, they are too sore dancing. Not to mention you’d gotten nauseous from standing up too quickly only hours earlier but damn if you didn’t want to dance with your husband. Want to feel his chest against yours, his hands on your curves, admire the smile on his face. There are few things you enjoy more than any form of intimacy with Bruce.

“Maybe later.” You sighed, “I think I need to sit down for a while.”

2 weeks ago:

‘Breast changes are another very early sign of pregnancy. Your hormone levels rapidly change after the egg is fertilized. Because of these changes, your breasts may become swollen, sore, or tingly.’

You groaned aloud, rereading the entry on WebMD once more. You hadn’t expected your breasts to change so early on, incorrectly assuming any swelling or pain would be a result of breast milk, but you were wrong.

Believing you had the house to yourself, you figure now was as good a time as any to read up on more early pregnancy symptoms, to correct any other misconception you might have. You were midway through reading about progesterone and how it causes constipation when your laptop pinged.

A notification popped up in the corner of the screen, a DM from UserDC27, Bruce’s bat-server codename. You click to open the message and audibly gasp when a screenshot of your browsing history greets you, framed in red with its own ‘suspicious activity’ notification in the corner.

‘Pregnancy trimesters in weeks’ ‘Swollen breasts pregnant’ ‘Early pregnancy symptoms’

Amongst all the suspicious browsing habits of this family, of course yours had flagged up! Fucking ridiculous!

UserDC27: ? UserRI01: For a friend UserRI01: dw UserRI01: Love you x UserDC27: [is typing…] UserRI01: has signed out.

1 weeks ago:

“Good morning.” A familiar voice greeted you, strong hands slink around your body, brushing against your back and hips before settling on your stomach. What should have been a sweet moment frightened you, disturbing you from your train of thought and causing you to almost spill your morning decaf coffee.

“Woah there.” Bruce laughed, the warmth and proximity of him soothing you quickly. He effortlessly took the mug from your hands and settled it on the kitchen island so he could pull you closer without spillage.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, turning your head to rest it against his chest. The strength of his cologne is always so much stronger in the mornings, the scent of the man you love, of citrus and woodsiness does wonders to comfort your frantic brain no matter the time or place. “Just lost in thought.”

After a second you realise your mistake, you’ve allowed him an opening to ask what you’re thinking about and that exact moment certainly did not feel like the right time, what with Damian in the next room. You should be alone, completely alone.

He surprises you however, always one for keeping everyone on their toes, by spinning you around to face him and telling you, “I don’t think that’s it.”

“What do you think it is?” You tried to keep your voice airy, relaxed, unsuspicious but even you can hear the guilt in your tone.

“I think you’re tired.” He watches you with a playful glint in his eye, but the next words out of his mouth are accusatory no matter how light his tone is. “Where are you sneaking off to in the mornings, oh wife of mine?”

“W-what?” You heard him fine, you were stalling while you calculated a response. You had been sneaking off in the mornings and the fact that he’s asking so playfully, as opposed to interrogating which he is not unknown to do even with you, means he knows more than he’s letting on.

Bruce isn’t exactly an early riser, often too tired from long nights of crime fighting and case filing, but he is a light sleeper. Always on alert. He’d already caught you in a bought of morning sickness once. Roused by the unpleasant noises you’d been making. You’d lied about it, citing an upset tummy from something you’d eaten. You weren’t sure which was worse, the vomiting, the sombre expression he’d given you as he approached to rub your back throughout, or the look of horror on Alfred’s face when Bruce had brought up your supposed food poisoning later that day.

Ever since you’d purposely been rising early and sneaking off to dispel any nausea in one of the many guest bedrooms.

“Nowhere, I’m just becoming more of a morning person I guess.”

He eyed you sceptically, and you thought you might crack under the pressure. His hands reach up to cup your face, preventing you from turning away. His touch is so gentle, so soft for a man of his stature. “You can tell me anything, you know that?”

“Of course.”

As if you couldn’t feel worse he adds; “I miss waking up to you beside me.”

“Oh Brucie-“

You’re already on your tip toes, ready to concede, to apologise, to shower your sullen husband with kisses when you’re saved by the signal. Literally, a call from Duke 'The Signal' Thomas, with a reminder of your apprehension; an active situation that needed Batman’s participation.

Your relationship, and now marriage to Bruce had always hinged on an unspoken understanding that Gotham comes first. Even with Tim taking over most of his responsibilities at Wayne Tech, Bruce simply does not have enough time to raise a baby. You can't expect him to take turns with the nighttime feeds, with the frequent nappy changes, with the constant attention an infant will need.

You’ve no doubt Alfred would delight in assisting you, he's been dropping hints about wanting a baby Brucie since the engagement, and you love him very much but if you’re to raise a baby, you want to do it with your husband, not his butler.

That’s presuming your husband even wants a child. Another child. He already has enough children to populate a small village. Children with lives of their own. Children who in some way or another have followed in his vigilante footsteps. You think of the stress and trauma each of them has faced, and how it has affected them and their father. You think of Steph and her tremulous relationships with Bruce and Arthur. Of Jason’s deaths, plural. Of Dicks ineptitude to form meaningful relationships with anyone outside of the lifestyle. Of all the childhoods so many, but especially Cass and Damian missed out on. Could you be responsible for putting another child through any of that?

Furthermore, if your child wanted to live this life, could you really stop them? Nobody stopped Tim. Nobody stopped Barbara, when Jim had tried it only caused the rift between them to grow bigger.

Could Bruce stop your unborn child? Would he want to?

Speak of the Oracle. The chime of your phone draws you out of your spiral of perinatal anxieties. It’s Barbara, informing the girls-only group chat that she’s running late for lunch. Crap. You’d completely forgotten that you’d promised the girls lunch and shopping. Barbara had some tech on hold, Steph wanted to try the new caramel cookie waffles at Goodilicious, and Cass needed new boots whether she knew it or not.

Hurriedly, you shove the used test into a previously disused makeup bag that is now full of other used tests. It's starting to smell, but you don't have time to figure out how to stealthily throw it out, so you hide it at the back of a cupboard behind a basket of sanitary products before rushing out the door.

Later

Catching up with the girls had been fun, it had really helped you forget about your predicament and just relax for a while, but it had also taken a lot out of you, keeping you out well past dinner. Your body just was not functioning as well as it used to, for obvious reasons.

Upon returning to the mansion you’d made it to the ground floor lounge, feet too sore to even consider the stairs, and collapsed on the closest couch, exerting just enough energy to pry your shoes and sock off of your swollen feet prior to falling asleep. Just a quick nap you tell yourself, to regain some energy, you’ll be right as rain in time for Damian’s bedtime. He’s old enough now to put himself to bed, especially given that he often patrols with his father until the early hours of the morning, but tonight is his night off and you’d always make the effort to wish him sweet dreams when you can.

You’re awoken by the feel of calloused fingers pressing into the arches of your feet. You hadn’t heard him enter, but Bruce is sitting on the arm of the couch, in nothing but sweatpants and slippers. Between his bare chest and cowl hair, he is a welcome sight, bruised chest and freshly cut lip and all.

“What happened to you?” You ask, voice husky from your impromptu nap. You manage to draw your eyes away from Bruce long enough to check the time on an antique wall clock, it’s 4 AM. You’d far exceeded a nap. “Where’s Damian?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle. Damian is asleep. When you didn’t wish him a goodnight he came to look for you, that’s how I knew you were here.” He asserts. He looks at you with a furrowed brow and pinched lips, working his thumb into the arch of your feet with just enough pressure to make you mewl in relief. “Are you punishing me for something?”

The question hits you like a ton of bricks, it’s not without merit. You hadn’t intended to spend the night on the couch, but you can understand how it must look to him, especially in tangent with the ways in which you had intentionally been avoiding him; sneaking out in the mornings, not allowing him to see your naked body for fear that he’ll notice your swollen breasts, and growing belly. You hadn’t had sex in at least three weeks.

All at once you are overcome with remorse. You’d been so consumed with the pregnancy and how best to approach the subject with Bruce that you hadn’t stopped to think how your actions would weigh on him. He’s so strong, your anchor, an unchanging presence for the whole family. He locks himself and his emotions behind the big bad bat or billionaire Brucie so well that sometimes he forgets he has them. Sometimes you forget. Even now, clearly hurting and concerned for his marriage, he’s rubbing your feet.

“No of course not Bruce, I’m sorry…” your mind starts to form the end of your apology ‘I was just so tired’ or ‘it’s been a long day’ and they wouldn’t be lies but they’re not the right thing to say. You can’t keep postponing for the ‘right moment’ that will never come, can’t keep chickening out. He needs to know the truth. “I’m- I’m pregnant.”

You’re not sure how you’d expected him to respond really. You’d feared anger, hoped for joy but instead, he continues to stare at you, his brows raising in a way that implied he needed more information. He swaps your left foot for your right as he awaits your resumption. When you don’t speak he nods and states; “I know.”

“You know?” As though possessed your tired body launches into an upright seated position. “How could you know?”

Bruce smiles in response, an amused, tight-lipped ‘Are you kidding?’ smile.

“Well, to name a few things;” he counts off each observation on his fingers. “You’ve stopped wearing heels because your ankles are constantly swollen, your breasts are also noticeably swollen even under your clothes, you now only drink decaf, you seemingly have ‘food poisoning’ every morning and at no other time of day, a massive increase in urination, and my personal favourite, the bag full of positive pregnancy tests behind a crate-full of menstrual products that haven’t been used in almost three months.”

He’s trying to hide it, but he’s smug about his own detective skills. His mouth might be straight but there’s a fire in his eyes that has you drawing your legs away from him with a huff, abruptly ending the massage you had been enjoying. “How long have you known?”

“I’d had my suspicions for about 6 weeks, but I wasn’t certain until I found your stash last week.” Typical of Bruce to have figured out you were pregnant before you’d known yourself. “What I don’t understand, is why you didn’t tell me. Why you’ve been lying.”

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have kept this from you. I was going to but…” You trail off, straightening your thoughts as best you can and finding your composure, preparing to begin monologuing about your concerns. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about it, what with you know, already having so many kids. Everyone but Damian has flown the nest, Dick and Babs are married! They’re all so grown up, do you really want to start again? And then…”

Conscious of your rambling you cut yourself off, looking to Bruce for reassurance that you’re not talking too much, that he’s not offended by your worries. He consoles you by coming closer, sitting on the cushion beside you and easily coaxing your legs over his. His firm hands are gentle as they grasp your knee.

“And what?” He questions.

“I wasn’t sure how I feel, I wanted to figure that out before talking to you.”

“What do you think you feel about it?”

“I think I want to have your baby Bruce, our baby.” So caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed your husband’s hands creeping higher and higher up your body until a hand settles on your stomach, his thumb stroking you through the fabric of your shirt. You’d been so self-conscious of its growth but as you look at it now, under Bruce’s sturdy fingers, you realise it isn’t much bigger than it had been pre-pregnancy. How tedious your problems seemed when voiced and put into perspective, except maybe one. “I’m just not sure about how… well I guess I never thought about raising a child within your lifestyle.”

“I understand.” He nods, confirming his statement. He’s done well to keep his face soft but neutral throughout, a staple of his Batman facade but also a careful way not to let his own emotions interfere with yours.

“What do you think?” He looks down at your abdomen as he considers his words. You follow his gaze, watching as his fingers lift your top, exposing your skin to him. Without warning he lowers himself to pepper your belly with gentle kisses, the ticklish motion causes you to giggle and writhe beneath him.

When he looks up at you again he’s smiling, the motion causing the scab on his lip to split and bleed. Without thought you pull yourself closer to him, using his broad shoulders as leverage. Once close enough you dab at the minor wound with your thumb soaking up the fluid as best you can and examining the cut to ensure no further damage.

Bruce watches you intently the whole time, cupping your face in his hand when you appear satisfied. The adoration in his eyes makes you feel sheepish even after everything you’ve been through together.

“I think,” his voice is low, sincere. “I couldn’t be happier to be growing our family together. I think this child, like all our children, will be lucky to have you as a mother, whatever life they choose to lead.”

The amount of pent-up tension in your body had not been apparent to you until now. Until your body noticeably lightens in response to his words. The relief of no longer sneaking around, no more fretting over how he might react has you wishing you’d done this a long time ago.

“Bruce?” You sag into his chest, breathing him in. His arms unconsciously wrap around you in response, pulling you in for a tighter embrace. “We’re having a baby.”

“We’re are having a baby.” He confirms, pressing more, tender kisses to your neck, the curve of a smile apparent as his lips press to your exposed skin. "I've been waiting for this moment since the day we me. But, I think it’s time we got to bed, it’s late.”

Swift and practiced, Bruce lifts you from the couch, cradling you in the bridal position. You stretch to check the clock, 4:34 AM.

“Technically it’s early.” You jest, expecting him to punish your cheek by jolting you in the air or throwing you over his shoulder as he normally does, but instead, he chides you with an amused glare, clearly too concerned about the baby for play fighting.

“Neither of us has been to bed, it’s late.” His grip tightens on your body as he makes his way up the stairs, one steady step at a time. “And I expect my wife to be in our bed when I wake up.”

“Hmmm.” Your morning sickness has eased in the last few days, you’d only persisted in sneaking out to be safe, but he doesn’t need to know that just yet. “I’ll try, but I might be in our bathroom.”

“I can cope with that. At least then I can care for you. And we can throw out your hoard.” You don’t fuss over the likelihood of him having to rush off to save the day or for an urgent board meeting, you just throw your head back, laughing at yourself for trying to hide anything from Bruce.

When you reach the bedroom he lays you in the bed and climbs over your form. He’s in full caretaker mode, a manner you could get used to. He carefully removes your clothes, offers to redress you in your sleepwear and to bring you your lotions, or anything you should need from the bathroom.

Dawn is breaking behind your blackout curtains by the time you’re both settled in bed, entangled in each other’s arms. Sleep has nearly taken you again when Bruce whispers; “I do have one other thought.”

“Oh?" You peer at him curiously over your shoulder. "Yes dear?”

“I think you should be the one to tell Damian.”

His request hangs heavy in the air as you consider the implication. “Tell Damian that he will no longer be your only blood child?”

The room remains silent, he doesn’t expand because you know what he’s getting at. Damian probably won’t mind, because he’ll still be the oldest, the first in line and you’re certain he’ll be a wonderful older brother, he’s great with animals, so why not babies? Right?

“… That's not fair.”

“Think of it as penance for lying to me all month.” There’s an air of humour in his voice as he pulls you closer still, squeezing himself into your back and planting sleepy kisses against your neck. “Besides, he’ll probably take it better from you. I think he likes you more.”

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne/reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman/reader #batman x reader #dc #reader insert #gilverrwrites #f reader

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angelremnants · 6 months ago

Text

A TALES OF... l Tangled Desires

OR.. Loki has not forgotten your previous taunts from the time you had found him trapped in chains—an event you often bring up. Now, he plans to exact revenge by getting even, as a means to remind you who truly holds the reins in your tumultuous relationship.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (+16), suggestive content, power dynamics, mild bondage, flirtation and teasing, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 2.5k

author's notes : As always, insomnia is my greatest friend and I chose to spend the few hours I have left until my law exam to write about my beloved.

At the request of @mischiefmaker615 , here is a continuation of A Tales Of Bound Intentions—you can also read this separately. You ask, and I shall deliver; I hope this is to your liking, I made it a bit spicier than usual for the occasion.

Buckle up, because what I have planned for a few of the upcoming A Tales Of will get progressively more and more explicit. Stay tuned. <3

(ao3 version)

The two of you had been on the run for a few days since their escape from the dungeon. Although he couldn't bring himself to admit it, the rough treatment and teasing that you had subjected Loki to during their time there had taken a toll on his God complex.

He couldn't accept that he had been treated like a toy by someone whose skill level was comparable to a fawn learning to walk for the first time. He didn't appreciate the smug look you would sometimes direct at him or the subtle hints you dropped, masked as comic mockery and playful threats whenever he didn't "behave," as you put it.

No, he couldn’t let it slide. He would teach you not to mess with a God, let alone the God of Mischief and Trickery.

And so, he did what he does best—scheming.

Loki began his plotting by planting the idea of having a solution to collect more information about the catalyst of your powers that sat around your neck, saying that he knew more about the artifact’s connection to you than he initially let on. He insisted that he has the knowledge to uncover the truth but that you must trust him completely—“blind faith,” as he so smugly put it.

Should you not be as naive as he thought you were, you should have detected the treachery in his words. “Blind faith”, coming from the God of Lies? What a ridiculous request.

But despite your better judgment, you agreed. What a feeble mind, he thought cunningly. She must be really desperate.

Loki then led you to a forgotten place, deep within an uncharted realm where the air felt heavy with magic, thick and suffocating. He inwardly thanked the countless hours he was forced to study the realms up to the mere small bush; after all, without his grand knowledge, the plan he had concocted would be for naught.

As you arrived at the morbid ground, Loki insisted that retrieving the artifact’s “answers” would require you to pass a series of “trials.” He conveniently left out the fact that these trials were entirely fabricated. Each trial was designed to challenge you physically, mentally, and emotionally—pushing you to your limits while giving Loki the chance to watch, guide, and subtly toy with you. He watched your reactions closely, his amusement barely hidden as you grew more frustrated.

At last, you approached the ruins lying beneath a sky frozen in twilight, violet and gold hues bleeding together like an endless dream. Towering columns crumbled under the weight of time, covered in twisting vines that shimmer faintly as if alive with latent energy.

“This is where we’ll find the answers,” Loki said, his voice velvety yet distant, gesturing dramatically to the morose entrance. “Or rather, where you will.”

You glared at him suspiciously, brushing dirt off your hands from the last “trial” he had made you endure. “And you’re absolutely certain this parchment of truth of yours will explain why I have these powers?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, without question, mortal.” The twinkle in his emerald eyes suggested anything but sincerity.

You moved deeper into the ruins, his every step deliberate and graceful, while you stumbled slightly over uneven stones. The faint sound of dripping water echoed through the cavernous space, each drop like a drumbeat in your ears.

“Are you sure we’re not lost?” you muttered.

“Do try to keep up, mortal,” he teased, glancing back at you. “I’d hate to see you eaten by some lurking beast before we reach our destination.”

You muttered a string of curses under your breath, and he chuckled, the sound low and rich.

At last, you reached a vast chamber at the heart of the ruins. In the center, bathed in an ethereal light, was a pedestal. Atop it lies the artifact—a small piece of paper, pulsing faintly with a soft green glow, as if alive. The sight of it sent an inexplicable shiver through you.

“There it is,” Loki murmured, his voice dipping into something almost reverent. “The key to all your questions.”

Your eyes narrowed as you studied him. “Why do I feel like you’re enjoying this a little too much?”

His smile widened, sharp and dangerous. “Because I am.”

Ignoring his suspicious smirk, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you would gain some answers as to why your peaceful life was to be tragically moved. The closer you got to the artifact, the more it seemed to hum, its light growing brighter as if reacting to your presence. You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the surface—

And then it phased through your hand, the glow extinguishing like a snuffed-out flame.

“What the—” You spun around, your confusion quickly morphing into anger. “Loki, what’s going on?”

His laugh echoed through the chamber, cold and mocking. “Oh, my dear, sweet mortal. Did you truly think it would be that easy?”

Before you could respond, glowing golden runes flared to life around you, their intricate patterns weaving through the air like serpents. In an instant, multiple shadows mimicking hands shot out, coiling around your wrists and binding your arms behind your back. You gasped, struggling against the hands, but they only tightened, holding you in place.

“Loki!” you snapped, fury blazing in your eyes. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“Well, well, well. Look who’s all tied up now,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as he sauntered closer.

“You bastard,” you snarled, straining against the bodiless binds. “I should’ve known. You planned this.”

“Of course I did,” he said with infuriating calm, his emerald eyes gleaming. “You messed with the God of Mischief, after all. Did you truly believe I wouldn’t take the opportunity to get a little… payback?”

Loki sauntered toward you, his movements languid and calculated, the glow of his seiðr spread around the room illuminating each of his steps. Your arms were pinned to the wall of rocks behind you, and despite your best efforts, your struggle only seemed to amuse him further. He approached, and you felt the weight of his gaze.

“You’ve truly outdone yourself this time, Loki,” you snapped, your voice taut with anger as you glared at him. “Was this all some sort of twisted joke to you?”

“A joke?” His grin widened, sharp and merciless. “Oh, mortal, don’t flatter yourself. This is far more entertaining than a mere joke. Consider it… your next lesson.”

Your breath caught, your eyes narrowing as he circled you slowly, the sound of his boots echoing in the cavernous room. He moved around you, his presence a tangible force. “You think this is funny?”

He stopped right in front of you, his breath brushing against your neck as he leaned in, his voice a low purr. “I think it’s hilarious. Watching you stumble so earnestly toward a truth you were never going to find.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you growled, tugging at the glowing restraints. You strained against the magic holding you captive.

“And you’re predictable,” he countered smoothly as his expression shifted, the mocking tilt of his lips turning darker, more dangerous. “But I’ll admit, you do have your charms. It’s fascinating how someone so determined to appear strong can look so utterly vulnerable when bound like this.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you refused to look away. You met his gaze, defiant. “If you think you can intimidate me—”

“Intimidate you?” He laughed, the sound rich and biting. “Oh, no, darling, you misunderstand. I’m not trying to frighten you.” His fingers trailed lightly along your jawline, sending an unbidden shiver down your spine. He touched you, a feather-light caress that sent a jolt through you. “I’m simply… admiring the view. What was it you said? “A sight to behold”, I believe. I’m sure mine is far better than yours was.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your composure slipping for the briefest moment, and Loki seized on it immediately. His grin sharpened, his hand tilting your chin upward. He held your face, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re wondering what I’m thinking, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dipping into something more intimate, more dangerous. “Shall I tell you? Or would that be too much for your delicate sensibilities?”

“I don’t care what you’re thinking,” you spit out, though your voice betrayed you, trembling just enough to embolden him. Your voice wavered, giving him the advantage.

“Oh, but you do.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. He whispered, his nearness unsettling. “You’d burn to know, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re disgusting,” you snapped, your voice trembling with fury—and something else you refuse to name. You felt a confusing mix of emotions, anger warring with something else.

He laughed softly, the sound curling around you like smoke. He chuckled, a sound that seemed to envelop you. “Am I? Or are you simply flustered because I’m saying the things you’d never dare to admit to yourself?”

“Let me go, Loki!” you demanded, your voice breaking slightly as you struggled against the binds. You renewed your efforts to escape, but the restraints held firm.

“To let you go..” His laugh is low and mocking as he circles you like a predator, his presence overwhelming in the empty, echoing chamber. He moved around you again, his presence suffocating. “Now, why would I do that?”

He stops in front of you, leaning in until their faces are a breath apart. He stood before you, so close you could feel his breath. “Do you know how breathtaking you look right now? Bound. Helpless. Furious. You wear indignation so beautifully.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but your cheeks betrayed you, blooming red under his intense gaze. Your face flushed, despite your attempt to remain composed.

He chuckles, the sound warm and dark, wrapping around you like a velvet ribbon. His laughter surrounded you, a dark and seductive sound. “Oh, darling, you wound me. Do you truly think I’d go through all the trouble of setting this little trap if I didn’t enjoy myself? But please, anger yourself all you want, you're only becoming more and more enticing."

You narrowed your eyes at him. "What do you want from me, Loki?"

His grin widened, wicked and knowing. "I shall tell you, since you insist." His voice dipped lower, smoother, like the purr of a cat that’s cornered its prey.

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers ghosting over your jaw, tilting your chin upward so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "For starters," he began, his tone almost soft, "I couldn't help but notice how deliciously you squirmed when I had you at my mercy. It’s… distracting, in the best possible way.”

“I’m imagining what it would be like,” he continued, his voice silk-soft but laced with wicked intent, “to see that defiance crumble. To watch you plead—not for freedom, of course. No, that’s far too mundane. But for something else entirely. Something only I could give you.”

Your breath hitched, your entire body going rigid as his words sank in.

“I wonder,” he drawls, his tone almost conversational, as though he’s discussing the weather, “how many ways I could make you squirm. Would you bite your lip? Whisper my name? Or perhaps,” his smile turns cruel, showcasing razor sharp teeth, “you’d try to fight it. Deny what you’re feeling. But your body would betray you in the end, wouldn’t it? You would try to hide the squeezing of your delectable thighs together, in hopes it wouldn’t catch my eye. But oh, dearest, the scent of you would be enough.”

Your breath hitched, and you tried to turn your head away, but his grip was gentle yet firm, keeping you in place.

“You see,” he uttered, his thumb brushing faintly over your lower lip, “I also can’t help but imagine what other delightful expressions I could coax out of you. Like when you’re truly flustered. Or desperate.” His smirk sharpened, his eyes glittering with mischief. “Would you let out profanities? Would you curse my name, or worship it? Or perhaps…” His voice lowered to a whisper, rich with heat. “…you’d beg?”

Your eyes widen, and your face turns a deeper shade of red. “Loki!”

“Mmh, how I love the sound of you screaming my name. Yes, darling?” he purrs, feigning innocence as his thumb slides just beneath your chin, his touch barely there but maddeningly deliberate.

“Y-You’re—I’m gonna kill you when I get out of this,” you stuttered out, your voice trembling with fury—and something else you refuse to name.

“And yet, here you are, at my mercy.” His smile softened slightly, but the glint in his eyes remained. “And I think you’re rather enjoying this little game of ours.”

“I—what? No!” You struggled against the binds again, more to distract yourself from the heat crawling up your neck than any real hope of escape.

He laughed, low and smooth. “Relax, darling. I’m only jesting… for now.”

Your jaw tightened, but he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Though I must admit, the thought of you like this—so at my mercy—does spark all sorts of wicked ideas. If only you could hear the things I’m thinking. The things I could do to you.” His voice dipped into something darker, more intimate, each word sending a shiver down your spine.

“Stop,” you snapped, though it came out weaker than you intended, your resolve wavering under his relentless teasing.

He pulled back slightly, his expression one of mock concern. “Am I making you uncomfortable, dearest? Or is it something else entirely?” His smirk returns, sharper than ever. “Because if I’m not mistaken, you’re blushing.”

“I am not!” you protested, but your reddened cheeks betrayed you once more.

“Oh, you are,” he insisted, leaning back in as if to inspect you more closely. “And it’s absolutely adorable. It makes me want to eat you up.”

Your glare intensified, but he only laughed again, clearly relishing every moment of your frustration.

With a flick of his fingers, the shadows retreated, and you stumbled forward, barely catching yourself. You glared at him, but he merely watched you, his expression unreadable now.

“Consider this a lesson to remember,” he said, stepping back and watching you with a smug grin. “You may have power, but I not only am I far more capable, I also have… an extensive imagination. Next time, darling, do try to keep your wits about you. It’s unbecoming to be so… defeated.”

“You’re a pain in the ass when you want to be,” you muttered, your fists clenching at your sides.

“And you’re too irresistible when you’re angry,” he purred back without missing a beat, his smirk softening into something almost fond before he turned and started walking away.

As you watched him go, your heart still pounding, you swore under your breath. Loki, you decided, is a menace—a brilliant, infuriating, dangerously charming menace.

You briefly wondered if your heart could handle the road, knowing this was what to expect repeatedly until your journey ended.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

Note

I don’t know if you got this, but thank you for answering my previous questions. I really appreciate it. I was wondering: What does Leona think of Headmaster Crowley?

While Leona never outright states what he thinks of the headmaster, we can deduce that he doesn’t like Crowley from various little interactions they have + Leona’s personality.

Leona hates being ordered around by others and he dislikes doing things he deems meaningless or not his responsibility. So you can imagine he’s none too happy whenever Crowley dumps extra work on him, both in the main story (like trying to locate Grim in book 6), in vignettes (like Malleus’s Dorm Uniform, where he is told to help find Malleus for a meeting), and in various events (save Idia from a ghost in Ghost Marriage, babysit his Tsum self in Tsumsted Wonderland, make sure Jack doesn’t go off with a shady man in Stage in Playful Land, help retrieve the stolen magestone in Fairy Gala, etc.).

Leona may be aware that Crowley is a competent mage, as he indicates the headmaster is capable of catching Grim on his own in the prologue. (Leona in general is a very perceptive individual and has the ability to smell the magic in others.) However, this does not necessarily translate into respecting the man or his authority, as Leona still often refers to Crowley in disrespectful ways. For example, Leona uses teme (テメ or てめ), an informal and very rude “you”.

There’s also that interaction in book 2 during the dorm leader’s meeting in which Leona becomes annoyed at the suggestion that Malleus be inducted into a hall of fame. Leona puts up a fight with Crowley and resists the decision, using his charisma to convince the other dorm leaders to vote in his favor. Leona doesn’t hesitate to voice protests in other cases too—he’s the first to speak up when Crowley announces Malleus will be returning to school in book 7.

If you reference his animation when Crowley drops into class for a Special Lesson, Leona looks none too pleased to see him. In fact, Leona looks pretty annoyed about it while most other students are just shocked. While Lessons aren’t canon, the sentiments expressed in them can still be reflective of character dynamics and relationships.

Leona in general is not very amicable towards others, so it makes sense that he’s also not amicable towards Crowley either.

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baka-bakeneko · 1 year ago

Text

Body - Toji Fushiguro x Fem Reader [NSFW]

tags: bodyguard Toji, bodyguard/damsel dynamics (if you squint), Toji is a bastard, brat/brat tamer dynamic, dry humping, a tad of CNC, wrap it before you tap it psa, rough fuck, dominant Toji, our little secret vibes

wc: 3.19k

synopsis: Toji gets hired to be a bodyguard for a bratty public princess.

a/n: thank you to @/yunonoai_ for singlehandedly fueling all my Toji imaginations into reality. This one for you, boo. and also u, anon that was asking for more toji content.

Toji repeated in his head brat, brat, brat every time he was in vicinity of you. Of course, public princess like you needed Daddy's protection. And Daddy paid a pretty penny for you.

Upon his first time meeting you, after effectively schmoozing your father for the position, Toji kept his eyes trained to yours while he dully scanned over you.

Toji bit back a scoff, bowed his neck to show respect in front of your father and introduced himself. He'd sat down after your father left with a kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the loft alone with him.

When the door shut, you rolled your eyes and undid the top buttons of your shirt and undid your hair. Toji quirked a brow, already assuming the worst.

In all honesty, Toji wished that your father had called it what it truly was: brat sitter. He followed behind you, carried your bags, listened to your girly gab with your friends about boys and sat with you in the car while you talked on the phone to your mother.

He wildly misunderstood the duties of this position. While he casually carried his gun attached to his hip, Toji hadn't gotten a sense of danger except for him being around you.

Whether or not you agreed with your father's need for protection, you had to commend Toji for being able to blend into the background. He was barely close to agreeable in anything you did, a grimacing pillar of stone close behind you. But he was intimidating, to say the least.

You remembered the look on your friend's faces when he sat behind you at lunch; his looming, plain glare piercing through them, leaving them quiet and nervous.

With a glance behind you, Toji raised an unamused brow then lowered his head to eat his meal.

"He's very..." one friend whispered at you.

"Big. And scary." The second one added.

You shrugged and resumed your meal. "That's what he's meant for."

He did exactly what your father ordered him to: to be your shadow. A phantom among your daily routine without a hitch. He was silent in the car afterwards, following you out of the car with your bags in his hold.

You retrieved your loft keys from your purse as the doorman opened the door for you two. Toji grumbled softly, dropping off the bags to an attendant while keeping in step with you to the elevator.

Just as the two of you made way into the elevator, Toji's earpiece sounded and he tapped it with his middle finger. "Sir?"

The formal introduction grated Toji's nerves, his teeth gritting while he listened to your father. He was quiet while his earpiece buzzed with information, wedging himself to the back wall of the elevator after pushing the button for your floor.

You stood near him, pulling out your phone to check your messages in the downtime. As the two of you stood, waiting for the elevator to close and go up, more tenants filed in.

Toji instinctively grabbed your elbow and pulled you before him, giving more space to the strangers that slowly filled the confined space.

"Yes sir, we're boarding the elevator now." Toji offered, turning his attention down at you then to the closing doors of the mechanism.

You glanced up at him, his hand now grasped at your elbow to keep you close. The elevator was soon cramped with strangers shoulder to shoulder and you stood close in front of Toji.

You shifted your footing, pulling your knees together to fit in Toji's wide stance. Toji glared down at you stepping closer to him.

Brat, brat, brat. He repeated in his head, even as your backside squished against his waist. He pursed a breath out, turning his head to listen to your father again.

"Take her inside when you get upstairs. I'd like to implement a short-term lockdown, just in case."

"Of course. How long?" Toji asked, ignoring you shifting against him again.

He attempted to flush his mind back to the pay, anything but the actual wedging of his soft cock between your cheeks.

Were you even wearing panties under this skirt? Toji cleared his throat and blinked hard, trying to rid his mind of that thought.

You wiggled in front of Toji, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Putting your phone back in your bag, you crossed your arms and stood tall before Toji.

His pecs felt directly behind your head, the heat of his body looming behind you. With a glance over your shoulder, you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

Toji couldn't find a placement for his hands, unable to cross them like you had. He placed them on his hips, releasing a soft exhale above his head.

"Yes sir. Will do," Toji finished off his phone call with a double tap to his earpiece.

You turned your head over your shoulder and lowered your voice.

"What did my father have to say?"

Toji grit his teeth, leaning down to meet your ear with a whisper. "You're going to be on lockdown."

Toji's breath traveled down your spine, making you inhale sharply. Your arms crossed tighter over your chest, hiding the perk of your nipples.

You shifted your knees, which made your ass rub against Toji's cock again. He tilted his head back against the wall, trying to ignore the feeling of you against him.

Brat, brat, brat. Stupid brat. Spoiled little fucking brat. He bit at his inside lip, his hands gripping tighter at his hips. Toji couldn't pull his hips back any further, only let you lean against his cock.

An errant whimper escaped you, feeling your bodyguard's figure stiffen behind you. You flinched, tightening your cheeks only for Toji to clear his throat.

The doors one at a time, allowing small groups of people to filter out of the elevator. Toji glanced up at the corner of the elevator, noticing the security camera no doubt getting the full view of him practically dry humping his boss's daughter.

By the time that they reached your floor, Toji was adamant with pushing you off of him and out of the doors as quickly as possible. You couldn't blame him in the slightest; a moment longer in that situation and you would've faltered.

Toji had to admit that he would have folded, his natural beration of you in his head no longer aiding his disdain but his natural urges.

He kept his eyes level at the back of your head, following you down the hallway to your father's penthouse. Eyes up, Fushiguro. Goddamn it.

Even with his personal lashing, Toji couldn't help but falter his eyes down your spine and to your ass poured tight into your pencil skirt.

The slight slit between your thighs was highlighted with the flash of sensitive skin. He growled in his throat, straightening his back and returning his gaze to your head.

You felt Toji's eyes bore into the back of your skull, felt personally ogled and examined by this man. When you finally reached the door of your father's penthouse, you opened it and let your bodyguard follow you in.

Upon closing and locking the door, Toji's heavy hand slammed over your shoulder.

Your breath caught, feeling the man's massive stature over your back as his lips crept to behind your ear. Just as you felt his other hand slip up between your thighs from the slit of your skirt.

"Are you fucking wet for me right now?"

You whimpered softly, your body pressed against the heavy oak door. You willed yourself to ignore this man's question, even as his calloused fingers stroked up the sensitive insides of your thighs. His knuckles left no side of you in want, caressing up just to stop before your pussy.

You shut your eyes, holding your forehead to the door before Toji grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to look at him. His fingers weaved into the hair at the nape of your neck, offering a delicious sting down your back.

"You want to answer me, brat?" He seethed at your face, his teeth bared together.

Your chest curved out, the buttons of your shirt tempted to break open. Your hands went for Toji's at your skirt and neck respectively, earning another tug at your hair.

"Behave and answer me." Toji's scarred lips made their way to your ear even as his fingers slipped between your lips.

You crooned at his touch, feeling him swirl the wet he caused back and forth before retracting. Still, you didn't answer him as he found his own answer.

Toji scoffed, pulling his fingers from your skirt and holding them up for you to see. He tilted his soiled fingers in the afternoon light from the windows and clicked his tongue at the sight.

"Fucking knew it," Toji purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Why don't you tell me how you taste, hmm?"

You forced your lips together, folding them in to keep Toji's fingers out. Even though you'd been with him all day, you didn't trust the cleanliness.

"What if I don't want to?" you quipped, nipping out at Toji's digits when they approached your mouth.

His glare was unfazed by your defiance, knowing this was nothing new he expected. Toji shook his hand in your hair, loosening your fight against him.

"Fine," he bit, using his wet fingers to pluck your shirt buttons open. "Tell me then, brat, what'll happen when I force my cock in your mouth."

Your eyes flamed at the thought, your knees melting apart when Toji shook you to the floor. He was not one to ask for your permission, but he understood when you said 'stop' it'd be done.

There was no way that he'd actually risk his pay to fuck a spoiled brat. "Say you swear by my cock that you'll keep it secret."

You sneered up at Toji, knelt before the knot on his pants. "Fuck you."

He took a deep breath in and out, your venomous tone nothing against your seductive eyes. "You should work better on your delivery. And hide your want a bit harder."

His free hand had his thumb flatten against your lips, admiring how malleable and biteable they were. Toji would mark them last, pierce the soft skin with his teeth to make you bleed.

Thumb forcing between your lips, over your teeth, he hooked you towards him. The jut of your jaw made you straighten up, glaring at Toji. When you were right where he wanted, he pulled his thumb out and unceremoniously tugged his pants down to reveal his thick, at-attention cock.

It sprang before your face, practically kissing your nose with precum. Though your glare attempted to convey disgust, your pussy wetted further at the sight. His musk was natural, something expected from a man who only showered on days he worked.

The sweat from him was pungent, cloaked with cologne but was now heady before your face. Your mouth watered, repulsed with yourself.

"You can't hide that you want my cock." Toji said, grabbing the base of his erection and tapping his tip against your nose. "I'll let you kiss it if you beg."

Your teeth forced together, narrowing your eyes at your bodyguard. Toji grinned at your expense, shifting his angle to tap his cock against your pressed lips.

"Just like a brat to want me to force you." Toji pushed at the back of your neck, bringing you to kiss at the underside of his cock, dragging your lips down to his balls.

You moaned at the feeling of his dick skin hot and tight against your lips. His vein twitched against your mouth, giving way to his desire. Your nose was violated with the sting of his musk, only driving more wet out of you.

Toji groaned at the feeling of your lips against him, wanting to grind his cock over your mouth to climax. It was the very least he was willing.

"Give me something. God damn," he exasperated, pulling your soft lips away.

You hissed at his grip, giving him an arch of your chest in exchange. Your hand went for his wrist again, your other tugging at your skirt to hike it up.

"Oh," Toji said, his eyes wandering down your body until he caught sight of your bare pussy. "That's exactly what I wanted."

You purred softly, spreading your knees further apart by his agreeance. When he tilted his head to gain view of your wet lips, you slammed your knees together again.

A carnal growl rumbled from Toji's chest then, his teeth bared like a feral dog. "Brat."

He released your hair and sat on the couch in the room, grabbing hold of his cock and stroking. He shut his eyes, imagining anything else to get his mind off of you but was met with the mental roadblock of your ass, your lips.

You sat on the white marble floor, staring over at frustrated Toji. Even without him paying attention to you, he made you bothered. Your hand on your skirt hem dipped in to tease yourself, watching as Toji bitterly handled his cock.

Toji lolled his head side to side, trying to meddle through you but ultimately failing. Opening his eyes to you, he raised a brow at your efforts. He so badly wanted to force you down and take from you, but there was delicate game to be played.

Even when you met his gaze, your doey eyelashes fluttering in invitation, Toji remained sat on the couch handling his dick in softer strokes.

"Stop toying with me. If you want me, come sit on it."

His eyes narrowed on you, rolling his shoulders back as he toyed at the head of his cock. You pouted, sinking your fingers into your core.

Toji sneered, watching your fingers slowly pump into you. Your brows furrowed, pussy clenching as you hummed. He attempted to keep himself at his seat, though he felt taunted by your sounds.

"Brat." He barked. "Now. Get on my cock."

You squeaked, leaning forward on your fingers as you ran your other hand up your chest and to your neck. Fighting his want and your own felt nauseating, but you knew what it would mean to fuck your bodyguard.

Even without your father knowing, you'd know. And once it started, you weren't sure you could stop. To have his dick on command was exhilarating to some effect, but still you fought yourself.

Toji launched himself from the couch, crawling over to you before grabbing your knee and pulling your legs spread. He was tired of wasting time, he was exhaused by games.

"Tell me now. Yes or no?" He asked the softest he could. Toji's teeth were still grit, his scarred top lip quivering in a sneer.

His cock was hung precariously between your splayed thighs, your legs draped over his hips. You felt the heat of him against you, ready and willing.

You slipped your fingers out, vulgarly displaying your open pussy to him before pulling your skirt up to your stomach. Your throat parched, you nodded at him.

His sneer curled into a sinful grin, his hands gripping your hips as he angled his cock to your ready entrance. Without a second to ready yourself, he pushed into you.

Your hands fisted on the marble floor, wiggling your hips to accomodate his girth. Shaky breaths rattled your chest with Toji pushing further into you.

"So tight," Toji groaned, throwing his head back at the instant relief. "So wet."

You mewled at his words, shifting on his length. He raised up on his knees, effectively pulling your legs up and over yourself before he started slamming his cock down into you.

Audible cries escaped you, your body folded onto your shoulders. Hands flailing at his thighs for him to slow down, but he tore through you with a stamina that had you melting.

Sweat was instant, dotting your bra and hairline while Toji maintained his standard of put together. His hands gripped tighter into your thighs, effectively bruising them and ready to puncture them with his dirty nails.

You crooned out with each thrust, Toji becoming entranced in the chase of the high rather than your pleasure. He relished in your pulsating walls, your wet pussy sounding with each slap of his hips.

Your body became a whole from you, vibrating on the end of Toji's cock. You seethed when he fucked into you, whined when he pulled out and moaned when he spread you open around him.

He strung a long dip of spit from his bottom lip where your clit throbbed, ignored, and kept pumping. Lechery coursed through him, abandoning all pleasantries for the boss's daughter.

Lower back aching, you angled your hips to ease the weight of Toji's heavy hips jackhammering. With that, you found yourself clenching tighter around his cock.

Your breaths drew fast and layered, your chest choking your neck. "Shit, Toji, h-hold on, I'm gonna--"

Toji squeezed terminally hard at your thighs, piercing your skin as he tutted deep against your insides. A pained gasp escaped you, his mouth finding your bottom lip and nipping you raw.

The euphoria slammed into you, your stomach rolling. Mouth gaped, you tasted a tinge of blood on the tip of your tongue. Toji's dark glare bored into your watering eyes, taking in each minute tinge on your face.

"Easy little brat," Toji spat down at you, riding your velvety walls. "Daddy would die if he saw you sullied like this, huh?"

Dirty talk was never one of Toji's strong suits, especially with practical silver spoon princesses.

"Guess it'll be our little secret," Toji said, running his hands further to catch onto your skirt. He tore the fabric at the zipper lining down your back, exposing your blushing, sweaty skin to the apartment.

You whined, pulling in your bottom lip to aid the nip. Toji shut his eyes and staggered through his thrusts, jutting his hips hapzardly in and out until he finally pulled out and came.

His twitching cock rested against your spent pussy, marking your face and chest with his cum. He rolled his shoulders back with a satisfied huff, giving your plushy thighs another hard squeeze before dropping you to the floor.

Toji reeled back on his haunches, catching his breath and nursing his sensitive hard on back into his pants. He wasn't going to spare another look at you, knowing that if he did, he'd bend you over again.

You gasped at the ceiling, slowly regaining feeling in your toes before sitting up. You stretched your neck, grabbing your tattered skirt to clean up Toji's signature mess on you.

After a few moments of silence, Toji looked around the penthouse. Still intact as minutes before, no security cameras in sight.

He rounded his stature, returning to his hardened work demeanor. "Aren't you going to offer me some tea?" He asked, matter-of-factly.

You scoffed in disbelief at him, glaring at him from under your brows before you pushed your way onto your feet.

"Make it yourself."

#toji smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk #toji jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen

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novlr · 3 months ago

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How do you introduce side characters naturally? I have a lot of important secondary characters in my story, but every time I try to bring them in, it feels like I’m just dumping information about them. Help!

We’ve all been there. You have this amazing cast of secondary characters in your head, each with their own rich backstories and interesting personalities. But when it comes to actually introducing them on the page, you find yourself wrestling with clunky paragraphs of exposition or, worse, those dreaded character introduction scenes where the story grinds to a halt while you explain who everyone is.

The good news is that there are ways to weave your side characters into your story naturally, making them feel like organic parts of your narrative rather than additions that need explanation. So, let’s explore how to make your secondary characters shine without overwhelming your readers with too much information at once.

Why side characters matter

Before we dive into techniques, let’s understand why it’s important to include side characters in your stories. They’re not just there to fill space or give your protagonist someone to talk to. Well-written side characters can:

Add depth and complexity to your story world.

Provide different perspectives on your story’s central conflict.

Create additional tension and conflict.

Offer opportunities for subplots and parallel storylines.

Help develop your main character through their interactions.

Make your fictional world feel lived-in and authentic.

Provide comic relief or emotional weight when needed.

Introduce them gradually

One of the most effective ways to introduce side characters is to treat them like real people your readers are getting to know. Think about how you meet people in real life. You don’t immediately learn their entire life story, family history, and deepest fears. Instead, you discover things about them gradually through:

Initial impressions.

Casual conversations.

Shared experiences.

Others’ reactions to them.

Their behaviour in different situations.

This same principle applies to your writing. Instead of frontloading all the information about a character, reveal details organically as they become relevant to the story.

Example of gradual introduction:

Too much at once: “Sarah was John’s sister-in-law, a brilliant neurosurgeon who had graduated top of her class at Harvard. She’d lost her husband two years ago in a car accident and now lived alone with her golden retriever, Charlie. She loved Thai food, hated mornings, and had a secret passion for reality TV shows.”

Gradual reveal: “Sarah arrived late to dinner, still wearing her surgical scrubs. She gave John a quick, one-armed hug before collapsing into the chair beside him. ‘If I never see another brain aneurysm again, it’ll be too soon.'”

The second version gives us just enough information to be intriguing, while leaving room for natural discovery of other details later.

Show, don’t tell (but tell when you need to)

While “show, don’t tell” is solid advice, the reality is that you’ll need both techniques. The key is knowing when to use each:

Show when:

Revealing personality traits.

Demonstrating relationships.

Illustrating emotional states.

Establishing dynamics between characters.

Tell when:

Providing necessary background information quickly.

Clarifying relationships that would be confusing to figure out.

Establishing basic facts that don’t need dramatic revelation.

Use dialogue effectively

Dialogue is one of your most powerful tools for introducing side characters naturally. Through conversations, you can reveal:

Character relationships:

“Hey, boss,” Maria said, dropping a stack of files on Derek’s desk. “The Thomson case came back from legal.”

This simple exchange establishes their professional relationship without explicitly stating it.

Personality:

“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Perfect,” Jake drawled, not bothering to look up from his phone. “Come to tell me I’m doing everything wrong again?”

We immediately get a sense of Jake’s attitude and the dynamic between these characters.

Background:

“Remember that summer we spent at Gran’s beach house? Before everything went wrong?”

This kind of dialogue hints at shared history and potential conflict without dumping information.

Connect to the main plot

Side characters should serve a purpose in your story. When introducing them, consider:

How they affect your protagonist’s journey.

What role they play in the main conflict.

How they complicate or assist the plot.

What unique perspective they bring to the story.

Create meaningful subplots

Subplots are excellent vehicles for developing side characters without overshadowing your main story. A good subplot should:

Connect to the main plot in some way.

Have its own arc and resolution.

Reveal something about the side character.

Add depth to your story’s themes.

Create additional tension or complications.

Common pitfalls to avoid

The introduction lineup: Avoid scenes where characters are introduced one after another in quick succession.

The info dump dialogue: “As you know, Bob…” conversations where characters tell each other things they already know.

The character sheet: Listing physical descriptions and personality traits without context.

The irrelevant backstory: Including details about a character that never become relevant to the plot.

The forgotten character: Introducing someone as important and then having them disappear for long stretches.

Questions to ask yourself

When introducing a side character, ask yourself:

What does this character bring to the story?

What’s the most natural way for them to enter the scene?

What’s the minimum information readers need right now?

How can this character’s introduction move the plot forward?

What makes this character memorable or distinct?

Remember, your side characters are essential elements of your story’s ecosystem. By introducing them thoughtfully and developing them naturally, you create a richer, more engaging narrative that keeps readers invested in your entire cast of characters, not just your protagonist.

Trust your readers to piece things together gradually, and focus on making each character’s introduction serve your story’s larger purpose. With practice, you’ll find that introducing side characters becomes less about managing information and more about creating meaningful connections within your narrative.

#writeblr #writing tips #character development #writing advice #writing community #writers #writing #creative writing #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writerblr #writing inspiration #writer #writing resources #writers on tumblr #ask novlr

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autumnmobile12 · 7 months ago

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Ambush Sim: Touya and Hawks’ Relationship

I don’t want to call it complicated; how I write them is they’re both relatively straightforward with each other, but there is a distinct divide in how Hawks views Endeavor the hero vs how Touya views Enji his father. That's not a part of their dynamic they can ignore, so this is the only way I can write this ship with any sense that it's a healthy one:

Hawks doesn’t know the full story and is also aware he can’t just pry it out of Touya, but he can tell with the father-son interactions that something is wrong and he has the understanding that whatever is causing Touya’s animosity is probably warranted. (He has heard the rumors other Pros share about Endeavor, has uneasily discounted them for lack of evidence and the fact none of the family members ever came forward, and has since come to the conclusion this stance may be naïvely optimistic.) The same is true of Touya knowing Hawks has a reason to admire the hero but not knowing exactly what that reason is. He has three main reasons for keeping silent about what his father did:

It is rooted in the years he’s already spent keeping silent in order to avoid the fallout should their family’s story go public.

It is also a matter of compassion. He is not vindictive enough in this AU to completely ruin Hawks’ perception of his childhood hero, and this also a stance he took with his piano students. True, there is the debate on whether or not it is honorable or even healthy to withhold that kind of information, especially when the likely response to finding that out is, ‘Wow, I wish you’d told me sooner.’ But this is the razor line everyone in this family walks in regards to their patriarch.

He's made this compromise with his sister; he figures he can do it with his partner.

So the result is Touya and Hawks have an unspoken and very temporary compromise of shelving the Endeavor issue.

They both know this is eventually going to be a discussion that can’t be avoided.

...

One thing I've noticed while writing, though, is their relationship very closely resembles these two:

And I'm pretty sure that's subconscious, but it's the personalities that match up for me.

Shinra is a more comedic character, but he's the character type you don't know to take seriously until they do something extreme and worth your undivided attention. Shinra will be joking and laughing with Celty in one scene, the next he'll be threatening a guy with a scalpel.

In the same manner, Hawks is similar. Trickster/goofball one moment, legitimately threatening the next.

Celty is also a bit of a silly character when you get down to it. In spite of being a serious and levelheaded fairy creature who's calling is to retrieve the souls of the dead and dying...she's clumsy, she misplaces things, she gets flustered, she's afraid of aliens to the point cheesy 80s sci-fi horror films scare her, and she's a terrible liar. What makes her comparable to Touya, however, is the theme of chasing something seemingly unattainable. Celty is a headless horsewoman whose head was stolen from her and she lost centuries of memories with it.

She could survive without her head, but she couldn't live without it.

And then there's Touya chasing after his father's recognition, surviving without it, and slowly learning to live without it in the Ambush Sim AU.

So in spite of the toxic elements of their relationship (and there are a few,) the way Shinra and Celty come together and balance out the bad with the good where it otherwise shouldn't happen...is adorable in all the wrong and right ways.

These two in the Ambush Sim AU are very slow-burn.

Hawks makes the slow-burn a writing requirement because of the demisexual headcanon I gave him. Putting it in the simplest terms, demisexuality is primarily needing an emotional connection first and foremost, and then there’s Touya who’s determined to keep everything emotional locked down due to past trauma. So the thought process is, 'That's a major incompatibility hurdle. Is that even gonna work?'

It's definitely one of the more challenging ship dynamics I've worked with, but after playing with the Trepha ship in the Castlevania fandom for the past couple years, I think I've got a good grasp of how to do it without it coming off as unnatural or toxic. In any case, it is an interesting ship to explore and I hope to do more with it in this AU because Touya and Hawks are very much black cat and golden retriever energy and I love that.

...

“So did you want me to cook or are you good with airport food?”

“Are you kidding me,” Hawks laughed as he followed him. “With how I was eating in America, I feel like I should fast for a week. So many carbs.”

“I hear they have a good cultural variety.”

“Oh yeah, my first day there, I had barbeque pirozhki for lunch. I don’t quite know what that is, but it was delicious.”

“I’ll find you a recipe then.”

“Really?” He beamed at his turned back. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Touya pulled out his phone. “How do you spell that?

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augustjoy · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll do things right this time.

Sneak peek: Bucky and you had been exploring the dynamics of a d/s relationship, only you didn’t do as much research as you should’ve which is how you end up experiencing sub drop. That’s a mistake Bucky won’t let happen again.

Bucky x Avenger! Fem Reader

Smut/Angst/Fluff

Word count: 4170

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, Porn with plot, unprotected sex (wrap it up), fingering, oral (female receiving), D/S dynamic, spanking (with a belt), Language, choking, aftercare!, dirty talk? (not degrading, but something), no use of y/n, talk of depression and mental health, subspace, sub drop, Let me know if I missed any.

Not edited - This thought came to me this morning and I had to get it written down. Also I do NOT consent to having my work translated or posted to any other site! That being said I don't own the following images of characters. Enjoy!

Bucky’s hand gripped your throat as he continued to pound into you from behind, placing just enough pressure to have your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You were in pure bliss, not a single coherent thought running through your head, only thoughts of him.

“That’s it doll, take my fucking cock.” Bucky grunted.

You could only whine in response. Your mind had long since emptied and you were left unable to form words. You felt like putty in the hands of your boyfriend, and you couldn’t be happier. You knew this had been good for Buck. The two of you recently exploring your sex life had led to this night where he was truly dominating you for the first time. After having no control in his life for so long, you knew he needed this, to control something, to control you. And you fucking loved it, surrendering yourself to him completely was the greatest experience, especially if it would feel like this every time.

You could feel what had to be your fourth or fifth orgasm approaching, and you were too far gone to even notify Bucky before it came crashing over you.

“Christ, another one. Baby you’re gripping me so ti-ght” Bucky breathed into your ear as he sloppily thrusted into you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum doll. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” And with those words he finished, pushing his seed into you as his hips slowed.

He didn’t slip out right away, instead he stayed momentarily as he removed his hand from your throat and pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder. You were so far gone, you’d honestly didn’t even feel it, so when he’d actually slipped out of you and then the bed to retrieve a wet cloth to clean up the mess pooling between your legs, you hissed from not only the sensitivity but the shock.

Bucky threw the cloth into the laundry basket in your bathroom and returned to your bed. As he positioned himself behind you, he let his arm creep around your middle and pull you into him.

“You with me doll?” He questioned.

“Mmhmm.” You hummed as you nuzzled your face into the pillow.

You’d never felt like this before. I mean sure, Bucky has definitely fucked you stupid before, but this was different. It was like your consciousness had left your body and was watching from the other side of the room. It had been so good…so what was this darkness that was starting to creep in?

The morning came quickly, Bucky had been alerted to a meeting. Needing to complete the official debriefing from his latest mission, which left you all alone in your bed. When you stirred and rolled over to find the bed empty on his side, well that was the cool wind that pushed the door open, inviting the darkness in.

Bucky found you curled up in bed like this hours later. He was immediately filled with panic, you never stayed in bed all day, not unless it was by his side. Or if you were feeling particularly down.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He questions.

Your silence only worried him further. Normally if you were going through an episode you’d at least inform him in some way that you didn’t want to talk to him. Why were you being so quiet now? He leaned down to kiss your hairline and whisper to you that he was there if you needed him. It was when two whole days had passed, and he was sure you hadn’t moved, that he became increasingly worried. He’d vented to Steve a bit and ultimately Steve couldn’t offer much advice, this was uncharted territory for him.

It was when Bucky ran into Wanda that he got the idea. If she could just tap into your head and see what was going on, maybe he could make things better. He needed to know if he had caused this, if he was the reason you were lost in the storm of your mind.

“I don’t like to do this without consent of the person Barnes.” Wanda seethed.

“I know, but Wanda she’s your friend and she has been like this for almost three days, and I am worried about her!” Bucky rushed.

“Fine!” Wanda folded.

Bucky watched as the red fog made its way from Wanda’s fingers to your mind. Wanda’s face contorted as she made contact with your thoughts. Bucky couldn’t quite read the expression she was wearing. Wanda let a small smile grace her lips briefly before it turned into a grimace and then a scowl, directed at Bucky.

“You are lucky she is my friend, because that was way too much information.” Wanda cringed.

“So? What is it? What’s wrong with her?” Bucky begs.

“She explained it as sub drop. She had read about it, it’s like when you drop from such a high. It can hit especially bad if there isn’t proper aftercare.” Wanda explained.

Bucky nodded in understanding. He thanked Wanda and apologized for the awkwardness of the situation. He made his way to your laptop to figure out how he could make things better. Unfortunately, it seemed to be very similar to when you were in a depressive episode. He had to reassure you he was there, but ultimately waiting it out was the only option.

It took 36 more hours for you to speak to him again. He was sure he’d imagined it initially, but as you sputtered from the dryness of your throat, he made out your request.

“Water?”

He jumped up so quickly to get you the water and after you’d taken a few sips he had pulled you into his arms and held you tightly for hours.

That was three weeks ago.

“You’re never going to touch me again are you?” You wondered.

You glanced over at Bucky, who was scrolling through his phone. Presumably looking even further into the d/s dynamic you’d started. Since the incident he had expressed that you two wouldn’t engage in a scene until he was sure how to do it safely.

“Doll, I just want to make sure that we’re doing this right. That things are safe and healthy.” He explained.

“But things were safe! It was so good baby, soooo good!” You reassured him.

“You couldn’t see yourself though! I was so fucking scared.” Bucky sat up in bed and looked over to you, tears forming in his eyes. “Sweetheart it was like you were gone. I thought I had lost you. I know how you get when things go dark for a bit, but this was worse. You weren’t even talking, let alone moving or eating.”

Bucky’s explanation had honestly shocked you; you knew it had been bad and that it had shaken him, but you didn’t think it had affected him this much. You were someone who delt with seasonal depression and you were also someone who had highhighs and low lows. Finding out that the darkness you had been feeling and that had ultimately consumed you had in fact been sub drop didn’t exactly come as a shock to you. Given your history it made a lot of sense that you would be more susceptible to it. But hearing how it had messed Bucky up broke your heart and so you’d let him take his time and do the research he wanted to ensure that you could try to avoid it next time around.

You didn’t think that you would have to wait nearly TWO months.

You finally got him to snap at Tony’s annual charity gala. You had all been dressed up and Bucky looked good. You loved it when he wore a suit, Tony had made sure that he had some that were tailored perfectly. You could kiss Tony for that, it had hugged Bucky in all the right places. The problem was, Bucky was purposely not giving you the attention you wanted.

It was time to take matters into your own hands. You’d get his attention one way or another and you’d had a good idea of how to do it.

You made your way over to where Thor was standing at the bar. He was telling stories of his life on Asgard when you’d come up next to him. You wrapped one of your arms around his back and let the other lay on his chest. Thor thought nothing of this, wrapping his arm around your middle, pulling you closer.

From across the room, Bucky was watching you. His jaw clenching, hands balling into fists. He shook his head. He knew what game you were playing, and he couldn’t give in. He needed to wait until things were right. He was honestly scared. He didn’t want to relive what happened last time.

“If you’re just gonna stand there, then I am going to do something about this.” Steve scoffed he couldn’t stand to watch his friend suffer.

He watched as Steve made his way over to you and Thor. Upon his arrival your face lit up, you called out for Steve and threw your arms around him. You let your arms travel the length of his broad back, looking up into Bucky’s eyes. You turned around so your back was now facing Bucky, all the while staying in Steve’s embrace. You whispered seductively into Steve’s ear.

“I just want him to fuck me, that’s all.”

Steve’s face went bright red as he looked down into your eyes. That was it. Bucky had seen enough. He couldn’t let this go on any longer. In seconds, Bucky had made his way across the room and was now dragging you back to your shared room, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out.

“If you’re going to talk shit, can’t you at least say it loud enough for me to hear?” You quipped.

“Jesus. I think you forgot who you’re talking to.” Bucky said turning swiftly, gripping your chin with his metal hand. “You were the one in there parading around and putting your hands all over Steve and Thor. I mean for fucks sake.”

“Okay well maybe I was all over them because you haven’t touched me in months! I am not made of glass! Maybe I should go back out there and see if Thor is interested.” You said, feigning innocence.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Bucky growled. “Our room now. Strip and kneel.”

A shiver of anticipation made its way through your body. You couldn’t be more excited about what was to come. You figured you’d be punished, but it would all be worth it in the end. You were buzzing with excitement, unsure of what to expect as Bucky had been doing research for the past two months leading up to this moment.

You had to push your thoughts aside as you followed his orders, stripping yourself bare and kneeling at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to enter.

“Oh, so you can follow directions.” Bucky’s arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the door frame.

As badly as you’d love to snap back at him, you knew it would only piss him off more. So, you kept your mouth shut. You desperately wanted him to touch you. You had been yearning for it, and here it was finally going to happen, burning like a flame ready to consume you both.

“I want you on your hands and knees. Before I can do anything with you, you need to be punished.” His voice was calm as he spoke, making his way to the bench at the end of your bed.

“Yes sir.” You obeyed.

You got yourself into position on the floor in front of him. In his hand he was gripping his belt, you hadn’t even noticed him remove it. The thought alone had sent a rush of slick between your legs. Once you were settled, he ran the edge of the belt down your back, this caused you to jump slightly. The cool leather had been a shock against your heated skin.

“Are you ready doll? You’ll take your punishment silently, understood?” He looked to your face, gauging your every expression.

“Yes sir.” You replied quicky.

“Color?”

“Green.”

With that came the first strike of the belt. It wasn’t hard enough to put you in tears, but it was by surprise which caused you to stumble forward a bit. You could hear Bucky readjust himself as you regained your composure. The second you had righted yourself brought another strike and then another. By the fifth one, a whine slipped from your throat.

“Sorry sir.” Your voice was hoarse.

“See that’s the thing, good girls don’t need to apologize because they do what they’re told.” With that he snapped his belt against your already reddening cheeks.

“I can be your good girl sir.” You pleaded.

“Oh, I know you can be, I just don’t think you want to be. I think you like being a little brat because it leads to this.”

Bucky’s words and tone had gone straight to your core. The research he’d done must’ve been damn good because you were in pure ecstasy. You were dripping down your thighs, so much so, you knew he could see it.

“Alright doll. Five more, and I want you to count them out. Color?” He checked in.

“Yes sir. Green.” You barely got the words out before the belt fell against your skin.

“One.”

Another strike.

“Two.”

Another. This time slightly harder.

“Three.”

The next one was lower, the leather lightly grazing your lips. You couldn’t help the strangled gasp that escaped your mouth.

“Four.”

“Color?” He was quick to check in, worried about the sound you’d released.

“Green.”

“Doll. Color?” He didn’t believe you.

“Green sir. I’m so green.” You could hear the arousal in your own voice.

“Good.” He said as he brought the belt down one final time.

“Five.”

Bucky threw his belt to the side, grabbing you by your elbow pulling you up off the floor. You stumbled a bit, your knees weak from having been on the floor for some time. He looked at you with lust blown eyes. He gripped your face and kissed you with the passion you had been missing these last two months. You two stayed like that a moment, before he finally pulled back.

“Up on the bed, on your back.” He ordered as he began to rid himself of his clothes.

You scrambled up onto the bed, waiting for his next move. Watching him, desperately wanting his touch as he removed his tie and dress shirt. He brought the tie over towards you.

“Arms up sweetheart.” He instructed.

“Bu-” You had to stop yourself.

“No. You sat and had your hands all over Thor and Steve. I think you need to learn that touching is a privilege to be earned.” He said as he pulled your hands up over your head securing them both to the headboard with his silk tie.

This was a new side to Bucky, his tone, how domineering he was being. You could already feel yourself becoming more and more fuzzy. This is better than what you had imagined when you’d first brought up the dom/sub dynamic.

Once your hands we secured, Bucky took a step back, clearly admiring his handywork. He let out a low growl as he made his way back to you, between your legs.

“Christ doll. You’ve made a mess. Who’s got you this wet?” He had a teasing tone.

“You sir! You do!” You wanted nothing more than him to touch you, your body was practically vibrating in anticipation.

He leaned down to your ear, breath hot on your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying hard to focus on his words.

“That’s right doll. Remember who makes you feel this good.”

He plunged two of his Vibranium fingers into your dripping heat and you let out a strangled cry.

“Bucky!”

This only encouraged his behavior. He sped up the pace of his thrusts, leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. You tugged at your restraints, wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through his gorgeous hair. Your hips were lifting up off the mattress, begging for something more. He pressed his pelvis into yours to aide in stilling your movements. His fingers curling up, perfectly grazing that spot inside you. His lips transferred to your other nipple, sure to give it attention before making his way down your body.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge as he attached his lips to your clit. You gasped; his actions having stolen all the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god, yes. Please! I’m gon-I’m so close.” You’d managed to get out.

“Hold it.” Bucky demanded, his eyes gazing up to yours.

“What? I don’t…I don’t think I can.” You and bucky had talked about orgasm denial and truthfully it had been an exciting topic.

“You can and you will, if you want my cock.” He stated, his teeth grazing your clit gently.

He continued working his fingers in and out of your cunt and his tongue against your clit all the while you were doing everything in your power to think of anything but the pleasure you were feeling in hopes to prolong the arrival of your orgasm. This went on for what felt like an eternity before he finally uttered the words.

“Cum now.”

That was all it took for the gush of wetness to release from you and all over his fingers. You cried out, tears streaming down your face, your body shaking from the pleasure. Bucky was sure to stop slowly, not wanting to shock you with an abrupt end to the pleasure before untying your wrists and moving to your next positions.

“You still with me doll?” Bucky asked, gently caressing your face.

“Mmm, yes” you said, attempting to catch your breath.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.” He kissed you once more before helping to position you.

Bucky was sat, leaning against the headboard. He pulled you up into his lap, your back pressed firmly against his chest as he lowered you onto his cock, both of you letting out low moans. His hands moved from your hips, his Vibranium hand back to your clit and his flesh hand to your jaw, turning your head.

“Eyes open sweetheart.” He instructed you.

As you opened your eyes you could see that he had positioned you in such a way that you could see everything in your full-length mirror that was sat in the corner of the room.

“I want to see your gorgeous face when you cum on my cock.” He whispered into your ear.

“But wait, what about…” You started.

“Uh-Uh. Baby tonight is about me reminding you who you belong to. Got it?” The way he could read your mind was like pure magic.

“Yes sir.” You obeyed.

His hand turned your face a bit further so he could capture your lips in a kiss, before turning you back toward the mirror then landing around your neck. Bucky applied a bit of pressure there, analyzing your reactions in your reflection. Your eyes meet his in the mirror and you nod subtly, your lips ghosting over the word green.

He didn’t need any more reassurance; your consent was the release of the flood gates. Bucky used his hand on your neck as a sort of anchor as he snapped his hips up into your own, his Vibranium fingers working over your clit. Pushing you to the edge, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back this time. Looking at Bucky’s eyes in the mirror once more, he could see the broken plea in your expression.

“Go ahead baby, cum on my cock.” He grunted.

You couldn’t form words or thoughts as your orgasm crashed over you. You felt the pressure in your lower body release along with a wave of wetness around Bucky’s cock. Your breathing was shallow as he continued to fuck up into you, chasing his own release. You could feel him become more ragged, his breaths and his thrusts, he was close, and you couldn’t wait to be filled with him.

“Fuck sweetheart, your pussy is so fucking tight.” He huffed out as he spilled inside you, his seed coating your walls as his hips slowed.

The room was quiet, save for your breaths returning to normal, Bucky’s hands had moved from your clit and your throat to wrap around your middle, hugging you to him as he pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulders. Worry was beginning to consume his as you still hadn’t said anything, and you wore that same fuzzy expression as last time.

“You okay doll?” Bucky asked.

“Mmhmm, I’m good baby.” You mumbled, pulling his hand up so you could lay a kiss against his palm.

“Good, let’s go get you cleaned up.” He released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding.

Bucky slid the two of you off the bed, trying to keep the mess to a minimum. When you made it to the edge, he slowly lifted you off of his lap, causing you to whine. He shushed you gently rubbing circles on your hips as he inspected your ass for the damage he had caused. It was red and angry, no broken skin, but there were welts that he knew would hurt for the days to come.

“It’s okay bub, I can’t even feel it.” You muttered, knowing he might be cursing himself for causing you pain.

“You can’t feel it now doll, that’s the adrenaline. But tomorrow they’re going to hurt. Let’s get you in the bath.”

He led you into your bathroom. He started the water, making sure it was nice and warm. Then he went into your cabinets to retrieve the Epsom salt and bubble bath to add to the water. The room started to fill with steam and the scent of lavender. You looked over at Bucky and smiled, he reached for your hand and guided you to sit in front of him in the tub. You let out a sigh of relief as you slid into the hot water, muscles relaxing as you lean back against him.

“That’s it. I’ve got you.” Bucky praised.

“Thank you bub.” You whispered, closing your eyes.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. Arms wrapping tighter around your middle.

“I love you baby. Promise you’ll tell me if you start feeling down again?” He says, nuzzling his nose at the base of your neck.

“I love you Buck. And I promise.”

The two of you stay in the bath until the water becomes tepid. Bucky has to rouse you, so you don’t slip down into the water further as he removes himself from behind you. Once freed, he bends down to scoop you out of the tub, settling you on the towel that awaits on the counter. He bundles you up in the warmth of the fabric, drying you off carefully. He looks in your expectant eyes and lets you know he needs to go change the sheets. Unbeknownst to you he had thrown them in the dryer when he went to grab your towels before the bath.

He had been gone for a bit, so you hopped off the counter, making your way to the bedroom only to see him placing a tray on the freshly made bed. On it were two glasses of water, some cut up berries and a piece of buttered toast. Tears sprung to your eyes as you took in the sight.

“Ah, doll, I was going to come and get you!” He explained.

“Sorry bub. This is all so sweet.” You sniffled.

He slowly made his way to you, pulling you into his arms. He kisses the top of your head before removing your towel and pulling one of his t-shirts over your head. He walks the two of you over to the bed and you notice the bottle of wound care on the side table.

“Can you lay on your stomach for me doll?” He pleads.

You nod and do as you’re told, laying down and sliding the t-shirt up to expose your raw skin. Bucky is careful in his movements trying not to agitate the skin any further as he rubs the cream into your skin. He leans down to press a kiss to your hip. He scoots up a bit and moves to your wrists, gently massaging them as well, wanting to ensure they also get attention after having been bound. As he rights your positions to cuddle with one another up at the headboard, he feeds you the snacks he brought and makes a promise to spend the next few days by your side.

“Bub you don’t have to do that.” You explained.

“No doll. I’ll do things right this time.” He promised.

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 month ago

Text

the geisha's komuso

You ever have a fic fucking possess you until it's done? Yeah, this fic was like that for me.

12,435 words; this wasn’t supposed to be so long but it got away from me; I mostly got this idea while writing flashback sequences for ghost speak in whispers and lies, so make of that what you will; mostly takes place during Wano but also contains spoilers/extrapolation for Egghead and minor Elbaf spoilers; absolutely love it when a man gets swept off his feet by a capable woman it’s such a great dynamic

Also: this is my 300th fic. I’m posting this today on the 21st anniversary of my joining FFN, which means that my (online) fic career is absolutely insane. FFN only has 239 of these fics, but AO3 has them all. Buck fucking wild, if you ask me, especially considering how far I’ve come since I was a teenager when I started (and you can fucking tell), with stuff ranging from short poems to multiple +200k longfics. Here’s to what the future may bring!

Law was merely supposed to meet up with Robin to exchange information as they scouted Wano ahead of the Sanji Retrieval Team. A slip of the tongue starts something--will it last? [LawBin; mostly Wano set, Egghead/Elbaf spoilers]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“We’ll meet in two weeks to exchange intel. Don’t worry about a rendezvous point; I’ll find you.”

“Will you be able to, dressed like that?”

“Of course he will! Our captain’s the best!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bepo, but I think I can handle it.” A pause. “Are you sure this is the sort of position you want? We can find you something else.”

“It works towards my already-established skillset. No worries.”

“…and what skillset is that…?”

“Mm… you’ll find out… if necessary.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Robin plucked at the shamisen carefully, getting used to how the large bachi pick felt in her hand. She looked at the sheet music in her lap and slowly hit the notes; she was familiar enough with stringed instruments thanks to her many attempts at making a place for herself before the Straw Hats that it would be almost too simple to pick this one up as well. It felt light and natural as she idly played a few notes of a different song, one she learned a long time ago now, while lifting her head to watch the other inhabitants of the okiya shuffle about their morning. The one thing she had to give the specific okiya she was undercover in was that at least it was peaceful—strict and hardworking, certainly, but the tranquility she found there was above and beyond nearly anywhere else she’d less-than-honestly infiltrated.

Eventually, however, that lazy morning was disrupted by whispers and murmurings by the back gate. Robin kept at her practice, looking graceful as possible as she pretended to ignore the minor commotion and remain on the courtyard porch while her Devil Fruit allowed her to observe the disruption safely. It seemed as though her contact hit a snag and panicked. She allowed her extra parts to dissolve into petals—circumstances had made her work with worse.

“O-Robi.” Robin paused her playing and glanced to her right; the madam of the okiya was standing there, a stern look upon her face and the only one in the okiya already dressed in dayclothes instead of the plain yukata for lounging. “A word.”

Robin placed her shamisen and its bachi down and turned to face the old woman, who merely turned around and began to walk away. She gathered her things and followed her, the pair slipping inside of a waiting room where they sat seiza across from one another.

“Your husband is here,” the madam scowled. “You never told me you are married.”

“My apologies, obaa-san,” Robin replied. She bowed lowly, faking her shame well. “I feared that if you knew I had a husband, you would not let me work. All I want is to work. It was not meant to unjustly deceive you.”

Which, in a roundabout way, was the truth.

“He would not leave and insisted on seeing you. He almost didn’t tell us why and instead nearly started a fight. Do you realize how much of a scene it can cause us taking in a monk? A komuso? What did he do to make him wander around playing the flute for alms while leaving you to find work on your own?”

“Defended me, if you must know,” Robin lied. “One of Kaidou’s men made a pass at me and he objected. Strongly. The penalty was either the factory… or…” She sat up straight, letting well-practiced tears fall down her cheeks. “They thought it… amusing to separate us and take everything we had. That is why I wish to work: so that I can support a man whose only fault is loving me.”

The madam made a noise in affirmation. “I see.” She thought for a moment before exhaling heavily. “He may… visit you, but he must be more discreet in the future. I do not want the yakuza investigating us for harboring a man who should be on a celibate spiritual journey.”

“He might have been banished to wander, but he is still a man, and a faithful one at that.”

“Then go meet him at the back gate.” The madam waved her hand in dismissal. “Do not let this get in the way of your studies or your work. The moment it does, not only is he done but we are as well.”

“Thank you,” Robin said, bowing deeply again before standing. “I understand this is a big risk and you will not regret this kindness.” She grabbed the shamisen and bachi and exited the room, heading towards the back of the okiya. Sure enough, there was Law, the straw basket he was wearing over his head towering before the ones who were keeping him there. She hugged him abruptly, almost causing him to shove her away before he realized who she was. “My darling.”

“O-Robi,” he whispered, holding her close. The other okiya members began to relax as they saw what they assumed was a tender embrace. “They almost didn’t let me in.”

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, “or the yakuza will ruin this place.”

“They have taken you in; I’d never even dream of it.” He allowed her to take his hand and lead him through the building, her blushing and smiling demurely as she brought him to a room that was small, but out of the way, only taking off the basket and his hat when the door was slid shut. There was something handsome about him as he gathered cushions to sit on… something that made her consider her options for this ruse. “How is this place treating you?”

“Well,” she replied. She sat down close to him and whispered in his ear, “this place has more eyes and ears than I do. Watch yourself. Now kiss me.” He grunted in response and played his part, nuzzling just behind her ear before pressing a lingering kiss to her neck.

“You play the shamisen now?”

“A little.”

“Can you play for me?”

“Of course.” Robin picked up the shamisen and bachi before procuring the sheet music from her sleeve pocket. “Tsugaru-obaa-san has noted I am quick to pick things up. She’s pleased with my progress.”

“I don’t like this,” Law admitted. He nearly broke character, catching himself instead. “I should be able to take you from this place and give you a home again.”

“When you are free, I will be the one to give you a home,” she replied. A few notes on the shamisen to test the tuning. “Our children will have a doting father and know that their mother is strong and capable. They will be free from what haunted us.”

“…a thought that eases me to sleep every night.” Law leaned onto his side as Robin began to play a song, waiting for a chance to reveal his true motives for seeing her. An ear eventually sprouted on the wrist that he was propping himself up on, while a pair of lips appeared on his palm—this was their chance.

“I already spread word that you are my devoted husband, who defended my honor from one of Kaidou’s thugs and are now banished to wander as a penitent, celibate monk,” Robin whispered through the spare mouth. Law nodded in understanding. “Did you establish the base camp for the potential recruits?”

“Still looking for a place both big enough and discreet,” he whispered back. “We’ve located the shogun’s private farm and weapon caches throughout the country. Most of them seem easy enough to strike; the ones that don’t shouldn’t take much more planning than the others.”

“Good; I have not gained access to the shogun yet, but that should be soon. He is currently on Onigashima for business. I have been entertaining merchants and yakuza in the meantime—their lips are loose when saké is involved.”

“Anything we can use?”

“Potentially; I need more time to corroborate and pick apart the bragging from truth. Any sign of our reinforcements?”

“Luckily, no. I want us to be more established before Luffy comes around and ruins everything.” He could feel the lips smirk against his skin. “Am I wrong?”

“No.” Robin hit a couple loud notes and Law allowed the corner of his mouth to twitch upwards. “Now, come over here and kiss me.”

“…but Nico-ya…”

“Would you rather me be more passionate with my clients than my husband…?” He blushed at that, knowing he was cornered.

“They wouldn’t let me in; I had to try something.”

“And now that something should be followed-through on, considering they know you are not here to listen to the shamisen.” Both the ear and mouth dissipated into sakura petals, effectively ending the conversation. She gave him a coy smile as she continued with her song, challenging him boldly.

Law thought about it for a moment, tongue darting over his lips idly as he considered what had been laid out before him. Had he imagined something like this happening? Sure, but only in the cold loneliness of his cabin and those tired nights he spent in the woods trying to not let the Beast Pirates find their plans. Those were thoughts he was fine with remaining out-of-reach, that he’d get over it in-time like everyone else who’d caught his eye over the years. Now it was almost as though he was given an invitation to act out his most recent guilt-riddled fantasy, and he did not want to waste it.

Without waiting for the end of the song, Law sat up and shifted towards Robin, gently taking hold of the shamisen mid-note and putting it aside. He reached up and touched her face—first with one hand, then the other—gathering his courage before easing them both side-by-side on the tatami mat and kissing her. Any spy would easily mistake his actions for delicate, yearning, and adoring, yet she knew what he really was: timid. Hesitant. Awe-struck.

“I have missed… the sight of you,” he admitted, not entirely in-character. His face was still close to hers, the tips of their noses touching while their lips were barely apart. He touched her hair before angling himself so that their foreheads found one another. “Is this okay…?”

“Of course it is,” she smirked, playing with his earrings. “I take to my room whomever I want, and I choose the man who has been faithful to me.”

“I have stared from afar for so long… I don’t deserve it.”

“…and yet I know there’s no other aside from me.” She met his eyes boldly as she hooked her leg over his, opening herself up. “Touch me.”

Law swallowed hard and did as he was told, reaching inside the fabric of her yukata and realizing she was wearing nothing underneath. He found her folds and was surprised to learn she was already in the beginning stages of being worked up—was this his doing or was it merely wishful thinking? Rubbing at her gently, he eventually dipped two fingers inside her, wetting his hand on her before going back to her clit. Robin broke eye contact and buried her face in his neck, panting hotly.

“More,” she demanded.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Take what is yours.”

“I don’t own you… we’re in the okiya that took you in.”

“My husband has finally found me; don’t deny a woman her husband.”

After only a moment’s thought, Law rolled them both over so that Robin was on her back, gazing up at him with lust-darkened eyes. He made sure she was in possession of enough cushions as she tugged at his obi, opening his kimono and revealing how aroused he was already. They ground their hips together as they both got lost in a kiss that grew increasingly passionate with each passing moment. Hands wandered, hungrily exploring one another, finding sensitive spots that made their breath hitch and bodies twitch at contact.

Eventually, it was too much to bear, and Law hiked up the front of Robin’s yukata and guided himself inside, drawing breathless moans from the both of them as their sexes met. Thrusting into her with purpose, it took all he had to not come immediately, knowing he had to give some sort of performance for the spies in the corridor. A contently married man did not pop off easily like a sex-starved loner whose only true experience with women was being punched by his sisterly ship’s engineer. He hid his face in the crook of her neck as they made lewd, slapping noises whenever their hips met, the only thing on-par with their gasps that otherwise filled the room. Her legs held his hips in place as a low grunt escaped him and he buried himself deep once, twice, then groaned as he came inside her. Sweat dripped off his face and mixed with hers on her now-exposed chest, the yukata having come loose in their lovemaking. He tried to support himself on his elbows afterward, knowing instinctively that things were not going to last long.

“It truly has been a while, hasn’t it?” she crooned, reaching up and wiping the sweat from his forehead into his hair and slicking it back. His expression quickly changed from blissed-out to horror as he realized what they had done.

“It… truly has.” He pulled out of her and collapsed at her side, trying to ignore the trickle of fluid that leaked out and soiled the inside of her yukata. “I… I meant to pull out… I’m sorry…”

“We have tonics for that,” she assured. “Our children will not be born in an okiya unless their father wishes it.”

“I… prefer not.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “May I see you again…? Like this…?”

“I’ll do you one better,” she claimed. “Pay attention to which room this is; I will hang a signal out the window when I am not working for the night. We can meet then, sleep in a real bed, be together properly.”

“…but…”

“You trusted me before, so trust me now.” She leaned in and kissed him gently. “It won’t be for a few days yet, so do not fear. Okay?”

Law nodded and kissed Robin once more before cleaning himself up and putting the basket back on his head. He slid opened the door to the corridor and surprised the other geisha who were there wondering why it had gone so quiet. It was a good thing his face was hidden, or else it would have been much more difficult to hide his flustered, flushed face and shocked expression. He wandered almost aimlessly to the edge of the Flower Capitol, his specific disguise allowing him passage out without fuss despite his sword.

What the actual fuck just happened…?!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

That night, Penguin and Shachi noticed that their captain seemed a bit off. He had been cagey since he’d come back from acquiring intel at the okiya that Miss Robin was working at. Had someone in the Flower Capital pissed him off? Was he withholding information from what Miss Robin had given him? Something was preoccupying his thoughts and they decided to give him a wide berth until he sorted it all out. Even Bepo could tell something was up and allowed Captain his space. They all guessed they’d been a bit clingy since meeting with him again on Zou, but could anyone blame them? It was why when he left that night to wander the woods by himself, no one followed, taking the hint that he wanted them to stay behind. He always came back; it was nearly a guarantee.

Law was grateful to be left alone with his thoughts that night as he allowed his feet to take him far from the base camp. He couldn’t stop thinking about his encounter with Robin, how the entire thing went from unfortunate accident to a wet dream come to life. The word husband had slipped out unconsciously, not even realizing it was said until he saw the looks on the okiya residents change from annoyance to confusion.

Sure, he had gained access to his informant, but at what cost? It opened doors, yeah, yet now he kept thinking about it, thinking about her, about them, and what it in the fuck it could mean beyond Wano’s borders. She didn’t strike him as someone who would engage in casual sex and it was difficult to consider that as a possibility. Sure, she was in character, but some of the things she was insinuating were hitting him just right, turning over and over in his brain like the Polar Tang’s rotisserie. He leaned his arm against a tree as he used his free hand to reach under his kimono and begin stroking himself as he let his thoughts consume him. It had been so long since he’d had any positive musings about the future that he was going absolutely mad and he wasn’t even sure it would last beyond the mission.

He thought about romantic vows unlike anything he had expected to hear again; about unzipping a gown or peeling back the folds of a formal kimono; about the domesticity of going to bed together every night and waking up together in the morning. Imagining her hands on him in so many ways made sweat bead on his forehead and his own hand work faster, glad his precome was now leaking in earnest. He wanted to carve her up, carve himself up, make their bodies intermingle as they truly became two parts of one flesh fused by oaths and convictions and devotion declared before all forces visible and invisible…

Choking down his own moans, Law shivered as he came in his own hand, aiming his spunk for the base of the tree to save the inside of his kimono. It was embarrassing, rubbing himself out in the middle of the woods for something likely no more than a fantasy, but he had something now that was worth aiming for despite it all.

He could become Robin’s one day, and the very idea that he could escape death multiple times, survive on trash, almost kill himself in the pursuit of revenge and closure… and yet still somehow become Robin’s husband…? It was a thought that threatened to devour him completely if he could not get it under control, embarrassment beginning to slowly consume the frayed edges of his dignity. He needed to know… he needed answers about what this meant underneath this consummate lie told elegantly for their cause…

…he needed to see her again, because if he didn’t, he was very likely to go insane.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was a few days later when Robin and the rest of her geisha sisters were coming back from an off-site performance. The hour was relatively early and the sound of their geta on the street echoed off the surrounding buildings. A relaxing night was ahead of them, a rare one in the scheme of things.

“What do you plan on doing with your evening?” Robin asked one of the other geisha. The younger woman giggled in reply.

“I have a new novel I want to start,” she replied cheerily. “What about you, O-Robi? Is your husband coming tonight?”

“If he sees the signal I leave for him,” Robin smirked. Her coworker snorted in laughter. “What?”

“I’d show him off more if I were you,” the younger geisha said. “I’m short enough to have caught a peek under his basket—he is very handsome.”

“Why thank you.” Robin gave the younger woman a smile. “He is easy on the eyes, isn’t he?”

“Very. It’s a good thing he has to wear that basket in public, or else he’d have a more difficult time staying faithful, I suspect.” The geisha thought for a moment. “How did you keep other women away from him before?”

“When a man is satisfied with his marriage, his wife does not worry about what his eyes might find,” Robin said. The younger woman giggled again; the prospect was not something that seemed possible to her, and that was fine. It was not what Robin needed her to believe the most, after all.

Soon the group arrived back at the okiya and dispersed to their respective places. Some went to the kitchens, or the halls where other guests were still being entertained, yet Robin went upstairs to her room, where the futon had already been laid out for her. All the guests in the building were regulars and known to be poor fonts of information; anything worth her interest would be still passed around in the morning. Taking her time, she pulled the spotted white hat from a drawer and placed it on a hook outside of her door to the balcony. Once she did that, she lit the lamps and knelt down at the vanity, beginning the process of removing her makeup.

She certainly had… enjoyed the result of the mix-up the other night, though she wondered if it had been entirely a good idea. It had not been the first time she had engaged in sexual activity while undercover—and it likely wouldn’t be the last—it was, however, very clearly the first time for her informant in a long time by any circumstance, if at all. She had thought of bringing him to bed since the moment he had been brought onto the Thousand Sunny; he seemed like a man who could keep her interest for longer than most and she detected a sense of vulnerability that could make such an encounter all the more so. It seemed fortuitous that he committed the exact slip necessary to bring them closer—it must have been something on his mind as well. The only question was if this was going to stay in the okiya, or if they would let it become something more… long-standing.

Eventually, she heard the sound of a pebble clack against the lacquered wood outside. A moment later and her door slid open and shut—he was there.

“I was wondering where this went,” Law said as he took off his basket and tossed the hat and his sandals in it. Robin could see him staring at her via the mirror, a quality to his gaze that had not been there when they last met… one that she was pleased to recognize. “Thank you for keeping it.”

“It is not a problem,” she said. She then turned slightly, allowing their eyes to meet directly. “Can you help me out of this headgear?”

Without a word, Law knelt down next to Robin and helped slide the pins and combs from her hair. She took a brush to the strands as he lingered, leaning in close to her ear.

“We have a candidate for a base camp we can move into soon,” he whispered. “Any more news on your end?”

“None of use,” she replied softly. “I hear too much useless gossip, but we’re almost there regardless. We are scheduled to attend to the shogun within the week.”

“Excellent.” She watched his face in the mirror; it was clearly everything he could do to hold himself back. She put down the brush and one of his hands found the back of her obi, gently pulling it loose. “Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” He leaned in closer, lips barely grazing the shell of her ear.

“That we can be together…? Properly…?” He sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since then.”

“Are you mistaking this for something else entirely, perhaps?” She felt the tension of her obi go slack as he slowly untied it. “Love and lust are not the same.”

“I am aware.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on her shoulder as he cupped her breasts from behind. Her kimono was still in place, so all he touched was fabric, but neither could be called a fool. “I don’t do casual. Please don’t hint at something more than this if you’re only going to make it casual banter. I can suck it up and compartmentalize these meetings for the plan, but if you keep teasing me about what could possibly come after…”

“You’re not a hit, so I think you’re safe,” she purred. Robin leaned back into Law’s grasp, feeling the soft scratch of his facial hair against the curve of her neck. “Does that bother you?”

“Does what bother me?”

“I have tricked people into trusting me by using sex to my advantage,” she explained, though still keeping her confession vague and voice quiet. “That would make most normal people think twice about considering me as something more than… casual.”

“So you developed a certain skillset before teaming up with… your friends—I’d be more surprised if you didn’t, considering everything.” He flexed his fingers deliberately, massaging her breasts as he did so. “That is different. This is now. What does this mean going forward?”

“I guess we’re going to have to find out.”

Robin carefully disengaged herself from Law’s grasp and stood, making sure to keep the fold of her kimono in place as the obi dropped to the floor. She held out her hand towards him and he took it, allowing her to help him to his feet. He pulled her close into his arms as they stared silently into one another’s eyes. They were nearly the same height like this, the three centimeters between them melting away as he barely had to dip down to join their lips in a kiss.

Oh! It felt wonderful as they slowly kissed away any reservations either of them had, hands wandering as they slowly made their way across the small room to where the futon laid. Robin eased Law’s kimono off his shoulders, baring his arms and chest as the obi held the rest of the garment in place. The cold air hitting his skin sent a shiver down his spine, making the fine hairs on his body stand on-end as he sucked in a breath against her neck.

“Is this part of your disguise?” she whispered, tugging at the obi. He shook his head.

“We made real ones,” he replied breathily. “Mine will be fine, but yours feels a bit more like we need to take special care of it. Allow me.”

“No,” she chuckled. “This needs a little more care than yours. Just watch.”

Not wanting to disobey so soon, Law took off his kimono and tossed it to the side as he did not take his eyes off Robin. He slid into the bedding as he watched her bare herself to him, naked as she carefully folded the garment into one slender block of fabric. She then shuffled her way over to the bed, crawling in as she settled herself above him, grinding her already-wet core against his hardening cock. A moment and said cock twitched as he felt arms form underneath the blanket and hold his legs in place, completely out of sight from where anyone could see if they barged in (or spied) on them.

“No fair,” he growled, in an effort to keep his voice from cracking. “That’s cheating.”

“All’s fair,” she smirked. She then used well-hidden fingers to guide him into her as she held his wrists down against the futon with her real hands. Rocking her hips against his, she pulled a moan out of him that was so high-pitched he would never admit to it.

“Waging war, are we?” he choked out. She leaned down and pressed their lips together in a kiss before forcing another gasp from him, swallowing it down with pleasure.

Oh, she was going to have fun with this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Morning broke and Robin woke to the feeling of Law’s lips against her neck and his erection against her ass and thigh as he curled around her. After such a vigorous night together, it was impressive he was ready to go again so quickly. She reveled in the sensation of being full-bodied caressed until it hit her exactly what time it was.

“Oh… you need to leave…” she realized.

“They folded my kimono and left us both breakfast, so I think it’s fine,” he replied. Sure enough, she bent to look towards the door and saw two trays sitting there, both filled with food. “Your coworkers like me.”

“My coworkers think you’re handsome,” she corrected. Robin sat up and used her Devil Fruit to pass along a couple of plain yukata from where they sat folded against the wall. They pulled them on and began to eat, the food clearly better than what Law had been getting thanks to his pleased reaction. “Not a lot of gourmet restaurants outside of the Flower Capitol?”

“Ha, ha; it’s all I can do most days to keep my friends from eating river fish.” He ate another mouthful of rice and shook his head. “Eating here will at least mean more to go around later.”

“It shall,” she agreed. Robin leaned over and plucked the umeboshi out of Law’s pickle bowl, knowing she would not get any resistance. “I am glad that you at least have your friends on the outside; I will see some of my friends from time to time and I don’t know what I’d do without that support.”

“Yeah…” Law stopped eating and contemplatively looked down at his food. “I know the rest of your friends are coming… but what if they… don’t…? What if… what if my time to wander comes to an end and the plan we had built falls apart?”

“This okiya could always use menfolk around who won’t take advantage of their position,” she said plainly. “Depending on how much I’ve made in the meantime, we could strike out on our own.” A pause. “With our friends, of course.”

“You say that so easily,” he frowned. Sure, he wanted to sail away with her in the Polar Tang, bring her with him as he attempted to find out the meaning of his name and the history behind it, but it was nothing more than a pipe dream. “If your friends do show up… then where do we go from here?”

“We’ll figure that out in time,” she assured. “Now hurry up—if we get moving, I can sneak you out into the alleyway and we can have the whole day to ourselves.”

“A date…? In the middle of our… situation…?”

“It is my day off, and we can make use of that.”

A grin tugged on his lips as he knew what she meant—they could take their activities elsewhere, whether it be mission-based or not. They finished their breakfast and quickly dressed, glad that the corridor seemed rather deserted when Robin conjured some eyes to peek at who else was around. Their pathway towards the rear exit looked like it was going to be an easy escape route for them, as it had both the least amount of people to dodge and the shortest amount of distance to travel.

They were almost out the door when a woman’s scream caught their attention—one of the other geisha was being assaulted at the gate opposite the one they were sneaking out from. Robin discreetly conjured some eyes and saw that not only did the attacker have a knife, other members of the okiya were rushing to her aid.

“Looks like a new delivery courier isn’t in it for the tips,” she said, allowing her extra eyes to vanish before being noticed. “I’d snap his neck, but there’s too many witnesses.”

“Then we might need to do this the old-fashioned way.” Law took the basket off his head and fished a handkerchief from his pocket, tying it around his face to conceal his identity. He and Robin then went to the other door and found that a few people were bleeding as they tried to contain the attacker. Law did not break stride as he walked up to the attacker and slammed Kikoku’s hilt dead in his face, breaking his nose and fracturing a cheekbone. The attacker stumbled backwards as he held his face, looking livid as he glared down Law.

“What the fuck is up with the mask? Too scared to show your face?”

“As though you’re worth showing my face to,” Law said. He drew Kikoku and held the tip directly under the attacker’s nose. “I still have a jaw to break—how about it?”

The attacker looked at the sword and decided that it was no longer worth the effort and left, running through the back alley to what he thought was freedom, but was instead a snapped neck and back courtesy of Robin’s Devil Fruit once he was out of sight. Law, however, simply sheathed his sword and immediately began to look at the wounded.

“We should run for the doctor,” someone said. Most of the injuries were superficial, but the initial geisha who had been attacked was stabbed in the side, blood still pouring from her wound.

“There’s no time,” Law said. “Where does the doctor usually put people they’re operating on in here?”

“In the sick room, but I…”

“Get her in there, now, and I need your medical kit, along with a sturdy needle and thread—catgut if you have it.” He was met with further confusion, to which Robin had to step in before anyone began to ask questions.

“My husband was a surgeon and doctor before our current situation,” she explained. “Please, do what he says.”

After a moment of hesitation, the okiya residents began to follow Law’s orders, bringing him and the injured geisha to the sickroom. They were able to get him fresh, hot water and soap, as well as the medical kit he requested. Once he was clean and his sleeves tied back, he went to work on staunching the bleeding and stitching up the wound. He had just finished when the doctor arrived, having still been sent for by the okiya’s manager. The old man stared at the pale, unconscious woman as Law was finishing cleaning her up.

“You should have waited for me,” the doctor said sternly. Law didn’t even glance up from his patient.

“She would have died,” he stated. “She has fifteen internal stitches, not including the sutures you see on the outside. Timing is everything with gut wounds and she did not have the luxury of waiting.”

“That is very tidy needlework,” the doctor noted, seeing the wound before Law covered it with gauze. “Where did you learn?”

“That part’s self-taught,” Law smirked, knowing the older man could hear it on his voice. He finished covering the woman’s wound and made room for their actual physician to step in and examine her.

“Her pulse is weak, but it doesn’t seem like she’s in danger,” the doctor said after a quick check of the woman. “You did the right thing, lad. She’ll live.”

“She’ll more than live—she should make a full recovery,” Law replied. “It’s on my pride as a doctor.”

“A little unconventional for a doctor, aren’t you?” the doctor said. He looked at the tattoos on Law’s hands and forearms, as well as poking out from under his kimono on his chest, and frowned. “You look more yakuza than anything. Where did you train?”

“Here and there; my training was… less than formal.” Law didn’t like the way the man was sizing him up, the tension in the room broken by one of the geisha’s friends bursting in through the door and breaking into sobs at the sight of her.

“O-Nana!” she cried. The young woman sank to her knees next to her friend and grabbed hold of her hand. “She’s so cold…!”

“She just lost a lot of blood,” Law explained. “That will change after she gets some rest.”

“Thank you!” the young woman replied. She gave Law a brief hug before remembering who he was, backing away in embarrassment. “Please, I don’t even know your name—all anyone knows is you’re O-Robi’s husband…”

“…Tora-o,” he said, remembering the nickname Luffy had given him. He was hesitant to use it, but at the same time, it made the most sense out of any. “We are Tora-o and O-Robi of the Nico Clan, a small family that used to be along the coast. Don’t ask me for any more details—I was young when everything happened.”

“We all were pretty young then, yeah,” the young woman agreed, clearly thinking he meant the Boil of Oden. The usual doctor seemed to be rather perturbed by her acceptance of Law, as though he didn’t even exist anymore. “I’m so glad you’re here, Tora-o-san—Mizuki-senpai lives a bit far, so I bet he’s glad too that you were here, aren’t you Mizuki-senpai?”

“Hmm, I guess,” the older doctor shrugged. Law did his best to not smirk gleefully as the patient’s friend continued to sing his praises, only letting himself crack as Robin finally came into the room to see what was going on.

They might not have made it out on their date, but they had something better: the trust of those around them. They both knew it was better than gold to a spy, and they were going to use it for everything it was worth.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Your captain’s in town.”

The words were whispered into Robin’s ear as she and Law laid together in her bed. Since he had saved one of her coworkers from a near-fatal knife wound, he had become a staple fixture around the okiya, able to come and go as he pleased without any resistance or suspicion from the others who lived and worked there. He was seen as one of them, in fact, as they would warn him when they heard of crackdowns and even covered for him when yakuza wanted to start poking around for “inspection purposes”. The couple took advantage of their newfound fortune as much as possible; that night had been only kissing and groping, but his words had been the first ones of actual importance to their true mission spoken all evening.

“I take it you had a run-in with him, then?” she chuckled. He grumbled in reply, because of course he did. “What did he do that was so Luffy he couldn’t help it?”

“Gave an entire cart of food headed for the castle to a bunch of randos in Okobore Town,” he claimed. “You can’t be a pirate and pull shit like that—makes me sick.”

“…and you becoming the okiya’s favorite new doctor isn’t anything like that, is it?” she teased.

“I’m a medical professional first and you know that; he’s just…”

“Luffy…?”

“Yeah.” He kissed her bare shoulder and held onto her waist a bit tighter. “This might be the last time I can see you like this if my suspicions are correct. Your captain is going to take up all of my attention and it’s going to be annoying.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” she smirked. “Do you think that Dressrosa was a fluke?”

“…no…”

“Then we’ll be fine,” she assured, scratching his scalp. “Luffy always finds a way to come out on top; that’s part of why we follow him.”

“He’ll make me go gray before that,” Law whined. He shifted so that he could hide his face in her chest, not wanting her to see the frustrated blush that was darkening his skin. “I don’t want to go gray yet.”

“If you go gray, then I’d really have to protect your honor,” she noted. He mumbled something between her breasts and she pinched his shoulder for his attention.

“My father never went gray,” he repeated, looking her in the face this time. “He never got the opportunity.”

“I don’t know if my mother’s hair was an early gray or white-blonde, and there’s the chance she was the younger one,” she replied consolingly. Robin offered Law a smile, feeling rather privileged to see the infamous Surgeon of Death—Supernova and former Warlord—embarrassed and frustrated over the process of ageing. “You will look distinguished with gray—sexy, even.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Maybe I am, but that doesn’t make it not true… nor does it mean I will be afraid of looking more and more like my mother in order to watch you grow old.” She stroked his hair as he buried his face between her breasts once more in resignation. “I would imagine it could be nice, slowly walking towards a death of old age, outliving those who tried to make it otherwise.”

“Nothing romantic about slowly using control of one’s faculties.”

“Then is it true what they say? That the bladder goes first? Or is it something less noticeable, like the spleen?”

“My specialty is not palliative care. That’s something you will have to ask Tony-ya about.”

“Hmm… possibly.” Robin closed her own eyes and sprouted some additional ones in discreet locations, monitoring the okiya. The man in her arms began to melt in her touch as they simply laid there in silence, enjoying one another’s company while they still could. Her false eyes dissipated as she opened her real ones, noting how Law was now sleeping peacefully nestled atop her. The tension in his shoulders and neck was slowly fading as he softly snored into her chest, snugged up against her as though it was where he was meant to belong… as though it was the only place in all of Wano and the seas where he could get meaningful rest.

Maybe… if everything went well… then they’d see.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky as Robin wandered through the Flower Capitol, trying to find a way out that would not bring attention to herself. She had gone back to the okiya to discreetly grab a few small things that she thought would be useful. Now with her prizes in her sleeve pockets, she carefully moved throughout the long-shadowed streets, making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone who seemed to possibly be in the employ of either the yakuza or shogun. She was glad that the local enforcers only really knew her from images made depicting her as a geisha, making her high ponytail and plain kimono an extra level of protection.

She was nearly out of danger when she ran into a roadblock: yakuza milling about the exit to the Flower Capitol, checking people who were attempting to pass through the gates. Robin attempted to think of a plan while she pretended to busy herself with a pottery vendor, her train of thought crashing when she felt a familiar pair of hands settle on her waist as their owner’s voice tickled the shell of her ear.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” he said lowly, with a hint of playfulness to his voice. Robin smirked; two could play at that.

“Then maybe we should take this elsewhere,” she suggested. She put the bowl she was inspecting back onto the table and went towards a nearby alleyway. When Robin turned around, she saw that Law had been dutifully following her, the basket he normally wore fully replaced by his usual hat and his sword strapped to his back. “Dropped the formalities now that our secret’s out?”

“That, and no outsiders are in the Capitol today,” he shrugged, tucking his hat into his kimono. “I went to see you at the base and you weren’t there—what did you need that was so important?”

“A little of this and that,” she replied. “My time in information-gathering was not simply to have more opportunities to be alone with you.”

“Ha, ha; you should have asked me to come along. We’d already be out of here if you did.”

“…and what prevents you from getting us out right now?”

“The goons about to stumble onto us.”

At that, Law leaned in and kissed Robin passionately, one hand cradling her jaw while the other squeezed deeply into her ass. She threaded her fingers through his hair as she kissed back, the pair aggressively making out as a trio of yakuza stumbled through the alley, drunker than they should have been for the time of day. As they approached, Law picked Robin up by her thighs and held her against the wall, causing the yakuza to wolf-whistle and congratulate him as they went past. He put her down once the alleyway was clear, snapping up a large Room and replacing them with rocks from outside the city walls.

Robin felt a few more tugs of Law’s Shambles ability in quick succession, the sensation almost making her dizzy, before she felt his body press up against hers, pinning her against a large tree.

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, voice catching as he breathed in her scent. His hands wandered and Robin realized that he had placed her on a root, elevating her position compared to his.

“Possibly,” she smirked. She slipped one hand under the collar of his kimono, scratching lightly at his upper back and neck. He held her close at that, peppering her throat and jaw with kisses.

“Possibly…?” He nipped at her pulsepoint with betrayal on his voice. “How possibly…?”

“Anyone can break under these conditions,” she reasoned. He held her tighter, fingers digging in against fabric and flesh.

“Then what do you want from me?” he breathed. “Is this… is this all just a game to you? Please tell me it’s not that…”

“Far from it,” she moaned softly. Despite the hesitation in his voice, he was giving her such an intense amount of physical attention that had she been unable to parse a hidden meaning, she would have been a fool. “You’re handsome, you’re intelligent, you’re interesting… I want us to hold each others hearts in our hands and feel it beat against our palms and fingers.” The noise that came out of him was encouraging, sending a jolt through her.

“I will give you my beating heart if that is what you wish,” he murmured against her skin. He rutted against her thigh and she could feel how hard he was already. “I can show you the inner workings of the body; vivisect a particularly irritating individual and show you how their insides move perfectly in sync with each other while they’re splayed out like a pinned butterfly. I can show you your bones and how they compliment your beauty… shower you with affection from the inside-out.”

“Is that all you’re after?” she teased. “My bones?”

“I’ve done a fairly decent job of jumping them, I’d say.” She could feel him grin against her throat, an action that in any other man would have seemed predatory. “I could be after something else.”

“…and what might that be?”

Law opened another Room and muttered under his breath, taking something from both of them. He took half a step backwards and held out his hands, showing that he had removed their hearts, offering one to her. “It could have been only your heart after all.”

“Interesting,” she smirked, taking the offered organ. It was not hers, as she felt a different rhythm in her hands than the one she felt still reverberating in her chest. She held it closer to her face, watching it work despite its separation from the body. “I didn’t think you’d give me what I wanted so quickly.”

“I want to show you that I’m serious,” he replied gravely. He slid her heart into the opening in his chest, it disappearing as his body absorbed it. “I will care for your heart as I leave mine with you—a promise that we’re both going to make it out of here alive.”

“…and if I die…?” she wondered. “I could be strangled by one of Kaidou’s men… done with as they please.”

“Then I would know, and they would regret it; they wouldn’t even get a chance to know they accidentally took out a Warlord at the same time.”

“Hmm… you don’t wear survivor’s guilt well, do you?”

“I’m sick of it,” he claimed. He eased her hands towards her chest, sliding his heart into the unnatural cavity to seal it away. Robin felt his heartbeat pulse inside her once it settled in; their twin hearts did not beat in unison, but in a rhythm that was more complimentary than anything. Hands on her chest, she felt the odd sensation until he took hold of both her hands, kissing her knuckles. “Please don’t make me go through survivor’s guilt again. I don’t know if I can handle it.”

“The Surgeon of Death is so fragile?”

“The Surgeon of Death is only a man and men can only handle so much in a lifetime.” He pulled her down from the tree root and held her close, whispering, “Please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” she gently teased. Pressing their lips together in a kiss, she inhaled sharply as she felt the crackle of his Room envelop them once again, stealing the breath from his lungs before he swapped them both again, rapidly changing their location until they were by a secluded wayhouse on a long-abandoned path. They were truly alone, the realization allowing them both a guilty grin.

Kaidou and his army would be there when they were done, anyhow.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Sukiyaki closed up the entryway to the staircase and looked at his guests. “It will take me a while to acquire the amount of paper that you requested. I shall make sure I have the rubbings done before you leave tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Robin said, bowing deeply at the waist. Law echoed her with a nod. “We appreciate your generosity.”

“Thank me by going and attending the festival in the meantime,” Sukiyaki replied. “You both should be out there enjoying the fruits of your labor as two of the nation’s rescuers. Go be young.”

“Yes, sir,” Robin smiled. Law simply grunted and pulled down the brim of his hat in a futile attempt to hide the fact he was blushing. She took his arm and they left the kokeshi doll room, heading towards the main of the castle. “This is so exciting—the fact that the Poneglyph was underneath us this entire time… it’s unreal.”

“Watching you read that was honestly worth the hassle of taking down Big Mom,” Law said. They exited the castle and found themselves at the mouth of the main street, where festivities were in full-force. “You are wonderful when you’re in your element.”

“…and what is ‘my element’, I might ask?” she asked cheekily.

“Doing what you love and enjoy without worrying about who’s about to attack from around the corner.”

She hummed in agreement. “It’s a good feeling.” Her grip on his arm tightened slightly and they continued to wander the festival. Varied members of their crews and allies were speckled throughout the crowd, enjoying themselves beyond anything they would have thought possible a week prior. None of them noticed the couple, who were taking in the festival with a quiet, academic air of people who just wanted to watch for a while before they began participating.

“Oh! O-Robi!” The pair’s attention was caught as the diminutive okiya manager came into view. She was with a couple of the geisha from the house—the trio forming a small musical group—all stopping what they were playing to approach Robin and Law. “We were worried about you! When the word spread that you and your husband were foreign spies, we feared the worst!”

“I can assure you that it was far from it,” Robin admitted with a smile. She let go of Law’s arm and bowed lowly at the waist. “Thank you for the position you gave us, even if unknowingly. The information we were able to gather due to my geisha work was invaluable.”

“…and you must be proud of O-Robi,” one of the geisha teased, giving Law a wink. “She put herself in such danger! Your wife is much braver than I am.”

“I am proud of her, but…” Law blushed, trailing off. The geisha all looked at him curiously and he froze, causing Robin to cut in.

“We’re not married,” she admitted. “It was mostly a ruse so he could come see me.”

“You’re… not married…?” the okiya manager marveled. “You mean none of that passion between you was real?”

“It is real,” Robin assured. “We plan on exploring our options later.”

“That will never do,” the okiya manager decided. “You come with me.”

At that, the older woman started down an alleyway, with the other two geisha dragging along Robin and Law as they followed. She went along willingly, though…

“What are you doing?” he scowled, trying to look intimidating. It didn’t work. “Where are you taking us?”

“Don’t worry, Tora-o-san!” the geisha pulling on Law’s wrist grinned. “You’re gonna like this place!”

“You have to keep it secret, though!” the geisha leading Robin added. “We only know because the shrine is run by Tsugaru-obaa-san’s brother!”

“A shrine…?” Robin wondered. She was clearly having much more fun than Law. “What kind of shrine?”

“You’ll find out!”

After turning down a few other streets and alleyways, the group stopped in front of what looked like a small, shabby shrine that was tucked away between apartment buildings. A crest was emblazoned on the cloth divider between the street and the internal worship space that caused the outsiders to pause: a pair of crossed scrolls over the outline of a sun. Out of all the clan crests they had seen while in Wano, this one was foreign to both pirates.

“Come in!” the okiya manager insisted. Law and Robin exchanged a look and nodded at one another before stepping forward of their own accord. The other two geisha remained outside as everyone else took off their shoes and walked inside, with the older woman scowling as she looked around. “Are you even here, you old fart?!”

“Watch who you’re calling an old fart!” An elderly man came hobbling out from behind a large Buddha statue that was sitting on a platform, looking as though he had been in the middle of cleaning. He saw the okiya’s manager and cringed. “What do you want, imouto-chan?”

“I want to introduce two of the foreign pirates from the shogun’s alliance to someone who is familiar with their rites,” she said, motioning towards Robin and Law. The old monk regarded them carefully as his sister whispered in his ear.

“What are you talking about?” Law frowned. “What rites?”

“Rites that were passed down from master to apprentice, from before the time of isolation began,” the monk explained. “What did my sister tell you before bringing you here?”

“Nothing,” Robin said. The monk nodded.

“Then what do you know about the Closing of Wano?”

“It was done when the Walls were built,” she replied. “The leaders of the time deemed it safer for Wano to have little-to-no contact with the outside world. It made crossing the nation’s borders a capital offense.”

“Indeed,” the monk affirmed. “What do you know, then, about before the Closing of Wano?”

Both Robin and Law looked at one another—neither had heard anything in particular about Wano before the Void Century outside of their conversation with Sukiyaki, least of all something they could divulge to a random stranger. The monk chuckled at that.

“The tales that have been passed down to me over the generations may differ slightly from the truth, but what I am confident in is that Wano used to be a cultural and trade powerhouse, with merchants and visitors coming and going as they pleased. When the Walls were built and Wano cut off from the rest of the world, the shogun of the time declared that we abandon any foreign ways we may have learned… that Wano was to remain for Wanolese only.”

“So then the isolationist policy was more than just a safety measure, but a cultural one as well,” Robin noted. The monk raised his eyebrow.

“Yes; a scholar’s question.”

“It is my life’s work,” she smirked. She then allowed her expression to grow serious. “What happened when the cultural purity policy was enacted?”

“Much as you can imagine: lives were lost, traditions that had naturally taken root and grown died out or went underground, and people who loved Wano yet clung to ways deemed too foreign lived in fear. Even when under the auspices of a tolerant ruler, we’ve taken care to hide ourselves, in case his successor does more than simply hold us in mild contempt.”

“‘We’…?” Law noted. “What do you mean by that?”

The monk simply crooked his finger and hobbled behind the statue. When his sister silently urged them to follow, Robin and Law held hands as they did, climbing onto the platform holding the giant statue and finding that it held a secret. On its back sat a cross-shaped recess, the inside of which was intricately decorated while a sun was etched in the stone around it. Suddenly, the crest on the outside of the building made much more sense, drawing a gasp from Law and a curious look from Robin.

“Then you know of Nika?” the monk asked.

“He brought salvation to those cast away and downtrodden,” Law said, still in awe. Robin let his hand slip from hers as he stepped closer to the back of the statue, tracing over the designs with his fingers. “Slaves see him as a liberator, their masters see him as a destroyer; my hometown saw him as a source of strength and spiritual guidance. He is a god—maybe even in relation to the God, if there is one—and his ideals around freedom and social equality helped ground us.”

“Good,” the monk grinned. “What do the priests in your hometown say?”

“They used to say he would save those who are good and keep them from damnation… that he would make everyone free and equal as he laughed in the faces of evil sinners,” Law replied. His voice was low and quiet as he reached back into his memory, to things he had not said aloud in well over a decade. “No more slaves or wars, the poor not going hungry or cold, the faithful becoming heirs to an eternal kingdom free of suffering after we pass on… but they’re all dead. Some good that did them.”

“There were people who thought similarly in my hometown,” Robin offered. “Some found the tales more academic in nature, but others did genuinely believe, even if it was privately.”

“The shoguns of old did not like Nika, as the sort of piety he was associated with paid no homage to their right of rule,” the monk explained. “That is why those who believe in him were forced to go underground and hide our faith while others who allowed reverence to the shogun were kept as part of Wanolese culture. Most think of me as another normal monk, but those who know the temple crest’s true meaning understand that is just a disguise.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Robin wondered. “Tsugaru-obaa-san mentioned that you knew of foreign rites… what sort of rites was she referring to?”

“Marriage rites,” he said plainly. His audience of two looked at him curiously. “My sister said that you two should be married before you leave this island. If you agree, I am willing to perform the ceremony in your ways… or close to them.”

“Excuse us for a moment…” Law said, pulling Robin off the stage. He waited until he was a few paces away before whispering in a panic. “What in the hell is this?!”

“It seems like a genuine offer,” she replied. She glanced around the shrine and saw that her former employer had left—they were alone with the old man. “If we go through with it now, there might be complications.”

“That undersells it,” he scoffed. “We’re supposed to go in different directions once the festival is over. It could be years before we see each other again.” He bit his lower lip in thought. “You’d be tied to someone you were barely with—when we do meet again, we might be on opposing sides. Even if we do meet next as friends, we might realize that’s all we are…”

“Many couples have differences, some even more prominent than ours,” she reminded him. “You seemed very attached to that carving on the back of the statue… does it remind you of better days?”

“It does, but… I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted. He held her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, wanting little more than to run away from everything with her. “It wasn’t that long ago I thought I was marching to my death; I mean… isn’t this fast…?”

“We didn’t exactly take any of this slow, did we?”

“I guess not,” he admitted. Law felt as though his brain was floating in soup—the overload of everything was impacting his ability to think as quickly as he was used to, something he didn’t like. “What do you want to do…?”

“This might be our only chance to have this done in a way meaningful to either of us,” she said. “It wouldn’t matter to me who does it; it might be nice to have it taken care of so we have something to look forward to when our adventures are done.”

Silently, Law nodded and took Robin’s hand in his, kissing her knuckles. She held his face with her free hand, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb.

“Robin,” he whispered, “will you marry me?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “The minister’s waiting on us, isn’t he?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later on that night, while the rest of their crews, the remainder of the alliance, and all the Flower Capitol were partying until they dropped, Law and Robin were in her room back at the okiya, making use of the madam’s promise that they would not be disturbed. They made love into the early hours of the morning—both with and without Devil Fruit assistance—selfishly giving themselves a wedding night to keep in their memories for the long days apart looming ahead of them. Their shouts were drowned out by fireworks and they gasped breathlessly in the moonlight; between was all kisses and touches, mapping out one another’s bodies with their mouths and hands desperate to feel something more substantial than lust to sate their future yearning.

Before they left in the morning, they placed simple golden bands on each other’s hand, promising to meet soon as they were able. She even gave him a clipping from her fingernail with express permission to have it turned into a Vivre Card. Hers would be safe with him, they agreed, but his would no doubt be discovered by Luffy and that was an entire other bag of cats they didn’t want opened quite yet. After returning their hearts to one another, Law and Robin left the okiya separately, finding their respective crews in the middle of departure prepwork. It was easy to settle back into their normal roles, and yet it hurt as they failed to acknowledge their newly-established connection.

In the end, they did a damn good job in Tokage Port pretending they weren’t tearing themselves up inside trying to act as though there was nothing between them, to the point Law snapped at Chopper.

It was nothing—they were just two members of a dissolved alliance continuing on their separate ways. Far as anyone else knew, they were cordial at-best. A couple of their crewmates seemed to notice something was different, but if they did, they said nothing and figured it was their imaginations.

Good.

The more distance that seemed between them, the safer they were going to stay.

…and hell they wanted to keep one another safe.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Robin looked in the mirror at her new haircut, hoping it was going to have the intended effect once they arrived at Elbaf. She caught sight of Bonney peeking over her shoulder, causing her to smile.

“Are you sure you want to stay on Elbaf?” she asked. The young girl nodded.

“I miss being in one place right now,” Bonney replied. “Besides, Lilith says she can help my dad wake up, and I wanna be there when it happens.”

“I can understand that,” Robin nodded. She felt Bonney’s arms wrap around her shoulders as the girl leaned against her. “Saul wasn’t a father figure, but he was still an important adult to me when I was small—being there with him will make us both more than happy.”

“That’s nice.” Bonney then went quiet, hanging off of Robin. She made a noise, alerting her adult that something was on the girl’s mind.

“Thoughts?”

“Well…” Bonney let Robin pull her into her lap and cuddled in close at the contact. “What if Lilith and the rest of Vegapunk can’t help my dad? What do you think will happen then?”

“There are many options, I would imagine,” Robin said. “You could… stay on Elbaf with the giants and Miss Lilith—I’m sure they wouldn’t kick you out. There is also the option of going back to your homeland, if it is still there…”

“It is, but there’s a lot of old people there and I don’t want them to be in any more danger just because of me,” Bonney frowned. She then had an idea. “Oooh, can I stay with you? You know, after you’re done pirating?!”

“You’d have to ask my husband, but something tells me he’d say yes,” Robin smirked. Bonney looked over at the rest of the crew as they were huddled by the opposite side of the ship, talking to their giant benefactors. “No, no—he’s not on the crew, but has his own. We plan to meet again later—he’s wearing the matching pair to this.” She showed the girl the ring looped into a chain around her neck, sitting low enough to hide under her clothes; not many of her crewmates had noticed, and none had mentioned it.

“I didn’t know you were married.”

“Not many people do, so consider it a secret between us girls.” Robin gave Bonney a wink and the girl giggled. “He’s a friend of the crew, so I know no one would be upset when they learn who he is, but right now everyone is running on a need-to-know basis about a lot of things, so I’m sure they won’t mind if we break the news later once we’re done with our adventure.”

“Oh, okay,” Bonney nodded. “What’s he like? Your husband?” She then gasped, horrified. “He won’t try to be my dad, will he?! I already have one of those!”

“Something tells me he won’t be unless you ask,” Robin replied. “He’s a bit prickly at first, and you might not get along, but once you get to know him and he knows you, I imagine you’ll be good friends.”

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah; he’s younger than me, so he’d be more of an older brother to you than a father anyhow. He’s like me and doesn’t have a home to go back to… he’s like us in that the World Government ruined his life as a child too. He’s also best friends with a bear.”

“A bear?! Does it talk?!”

“He’s a Mink, so of course he talks.”

“Wow!” Bonney seemed to have stars in her eyes as she thought about the prospect of meeting a talking bear. “When do you think I can meet them?!”

“In time,” Robin chuckled. “Is that what you want to do, then? Stay with my husband and me if your father can’t be switched back?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Bonney said. “I know you said he’d be more a brother, but if I’m with the two of you, it’d be close enough to having both a mom and dad at once—my mom died when I was very little, so I don’t remember her. It wouldn’t be the same, but that’s what playing pretend is, isn’t it? Oh! Are you going to have kids?! Do you have them already?! Does the bear babysit them?! I wanna babysit! I’ve always wanted to babysit!”

“We’ll see,” Robin replied with a chuckle. “Babies need to happen first before you can babysit.”

“Well, yeah, because otherwise I’d be babysitting your captain and that’s redundant, isn’t it?” Bonney scowled. Robin choked down a laugh—not quite there, but close enough—and knew they’d do well to keep the young girl around. “What…? You know I’m right.”

“I never said you weren’t.” She caught sight of the rest of her crew celebrating something out the corner of her eye; land must have been within their sights. “Why don’t you go see what they’re making a big fuss about, hm?”

“Okay!” Bonney ran off to see what was going on, leaving Robin to smile privately to herself, allowing the wind to rustle her hair as she thought about the future that Bonney envisioned, fueled by her youthful optimism and Devil Fruit of possibilities. She could imagine Law bickering with the tween as an elder brother would snipe with a younger sister, the trio passing even younger children between them in a well-worked routine, while the sweet and darling Bepo arrived and relieved the elder family members so they could go to school and work and… it didn’t seem like such a bad life.

Now it was simply about making it for long enough to see if it could become a reality.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Finally on dry land, Bepo laid on his back in the sand as he attempted to catch his breath. It had taken him all he had, plus another Rumble Ball, to get his captain to safer waters, and now there they were: no ship, no crew, and no way back to either. He wasn’t even certain how long he had been swimming, other than that at least a day had passed. If he had been anything but someone who could swim, they’d both be dead by now.

“How are you doing, Captain?” the Mink asked between deep breaths. He looked over at Law, who was laying on his side, just as he’d taught his crew to place unresponsive patients. “Where do you think we are? I didn’t get a good look at the chart before we left.”

Silence.

“Okay…” Bepo strained to roll over onto his hands and knees, forcing himself to his feet. “Let me see what I can do.” He pulled Law onto his shoulder and began to trudge into the nearby foliage, hoping to find someone who could help.

As it turned out, no one was in sight before Bepo collapsed in a small glen, absolutely exhausted. After a while more of laying still, he repositioned Law again and got to work, building a small fire with some twigs and a spark of Electro. A berry bush was nearby and he picked enough to keep them both going, holding his captain’s portion in a deep leaf he used as a bowl. He then waited, hoping his unconscious best friend would wake up soon.

…and he waited…

…and waited…

…until suddenly, Law jerked violently as he coughed and choked on seawater, vomiting in the soft grass beneath him. Bepo rubbed his back as his body purged the offending substance, waiting patiently until even his dry heaving ceased before handing him the leaf full of berries.

“Here—you’ll feel better.”

Law took the food and shifted closer to Bepo, away from the pool of bile and seawater. He leaned against the bear’s arm as he ate, carefully eating the berries one by one.

“Where are we?”

“Not sure; it’s likely none of the islands the others went to, I can tell that much.”

“…and the crew…?”

“I don’t know—it was just my job to get you out of there.” He let that settle between them—it was back to the two of them, no matter how much they wanted otherwise. “What do we do?”

“See if there’s any survivors, pick up what’s left, mourn those who didn’t make it,” Law decided. He chewed on a berry in thought. “That island won’t matter to Blackbeard now that he thinks he defeated me—whomever survived is probably still there. I’m sure it’s safe to go back.”

“How can we?” Bepo wondered. “It was pure luck that I found this island, let alone reached it. Without charts and a ship, we can’t get back there… not easily.”

“I didn’t say it’d be easy, but it might be easier than it looks if we take into account every resource at our disposal.” Law opened a Room and used it to pull out a space in his chest, from which he procured a rolled up scrap of paper that was held together by a golden metal band. He slid the paper out and gave it to Bepo, who looked at it curiously. “Vivre Card.”

“Okay, but for who?”

“That should lead us to Nico Robin of the Straw Hat Pirates,” Law explained. “She will help, and her help comes with her crew’s help.”

“What makes you think Miss Robin will help?” Bepo asked. He watched as Law stared at the ring for a moment before slipping it onto his left hand, specifically on the fourth finger.

“…because I married her,” he admitted. He heard Bepo inhale sharply and he felt a pang of guilt. “I know Nico Robin will help us because I am her husband.”

“When… when did this happen…?” Bepo’s voice sounded hurt; he should have been given the news a different way.

“It was… sudden,” Law said. “There was an actual priest in Wano… someone who knew traditions that weren’t that far off from Flevance’s. I would have told you sooner if we had found some time alone, but as you can see…”

“…this is the first time we could talk in private,” Bepo realized. The bear exhaled heavily—nothing he could do now. “I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not upset I wasn’t there, but I am glad it happened. Even before… you know… you left… didn’t really think it was gonna happen. Now it has, and Penguin and Shachi are going to be jealous.”

“If they’re even around anymore.”

“You know they won’t die that easy!” Bepo gave his captain a big grin. “Now let’s see if we can find your wife so she can help us get a hold of our crew again!”

Law cracked the bare semblance of a grin for the first time in a long time; that didn’t sound so bad at all. Yeah… not bad in the slightest.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: I had known from the get-go that Law’s disguise was somewhat modeled after komuso, traveling monks who played the flute for alms and wore baskets on their head for anonymity. These practitioners of a Zen Buddhist sect (Fuke Zen) were eventually one of the few people able to freely pass checkpoints in feudal Japan—an extremely rare privilege—leading to it being a good (possible?) disguise for spies and informants, which can show up in historically-set Japanese works from time to time. Something that I, the ignorant Westerner, found interesting while doing research for this is that one of the individuals who is claimed to be a predecessor of Fuke Zen is a man named Ikkyu, who was a significant (and eccentric) figure in Japanese Zen history. He was a renown flute player, artist, calligrapher… and also was very outspoken against the celibacy placed on monks and priests, considering sex to be part of human nature, therefore pure, and believed that engaging in it in many forms would lead one towards enlightenment. Something tells me that’s not part of the Ikkyu-san children’s anime Toei made in the 1970s and 1980s, ahaha.

I will also always be intrigued by the fact that Oda utilized the concept of fumi-e and the practice’s purpose of rooting out unwanted allegiances in One Piece, because as far as I can tell (and please correct me if I’m wrong), that was only really used to identify Christians from when the shogunate made Christianity illegal (another thing I saw in the manga and immediately went into Leo-pointing-meme mode). This means that one can presumably figure that if there’s Christian/Catholic symbolism and imagery in other parts of the world, Wano could have their own version of the Kakure Kirishitan as the series’s analogue to isolation-era shogunate Japan. It’s been driving me nuts since the Fish-man Island Arc first came out in Japan and it’s only gotten worse over the years. Granted, Oda tends to take from plenty of world religions/cultures/traditions and lots of Japanese manga-ka enjoy the striking visual aesthetics of Christianity/Catholicism, but sometimes things are just too overt concerning my own religion for me to brush off. Crosses and nuns and churches and the foretold Return of the Chosen Savior? Par the course; Japan loves that shit. Noah’s Ark (twice!) and the forbidden fruit granting the consumer a new ability that casts them from favor and the concept of God vs gods and winged, flaming Seraphim and a man living in a whale and naming a pair of characters Sodom and Gomorrah? Those are varied levels of less-to-rarely-found references and I’m staring at this manga and its creator wondering what’s going to happen next. Did someone Joyboy didn’t quite know have a bunch of insane-ass visions and write their own Book of Revelations? Where the fuck is Golgotha? Will the seas be parted? Is Luffy going to ascend to a higher state of being, body and all? Is the reason we don’t know who his mom is because she already did that? You’re killing me, Oda.

#One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #LawBin #Law x Robin #Robin x Law #Nico Robin #Trafalgar Law #I've been sitting on this for a bit to make sure that I liked what I had #so pls enjoy the 300th fic of my online career #it's got everything: sex. Law being a surgeon. espionage. hidden christians. more sex. endgame marriage.#I love it so much #and down here bc I don't like spoiling certain things via tags:#Trafalgar D. Water Law

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