imsryyimlate

[imsryyimlate]

lububu

[imsryyimlate]

That kind of missionary sex where he's reaalllyyy grinding into your pussy and the pressure feels good on your clir???

[imsryyimlate]

trafalgar law x reader that matches his intellectual freak. he gets giddy bc she listens to his ramblings and vice versa🥹specifically an anthropologist or like archeologist nerd reader! thank u🫶🏻

yes! law needs someone to match his inner, smart, depressed soul ❤️ btw it was years since i took anthropology so i had to do some internet digging to refresh my memory and write this 😂

— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader

one day on the polar tang, you settled into a corner of the mess hall, a hot cup of tea next to you accompanied by a messy stack of books and folders. law wasn’t normally one to seek out conversation, but when he saw a title on the spine of one of your books, he couldn’t help but approach you and ask.

“interested in medicine?” he asked nonchalantly.

not looking up from the textbook you replied, “not medicine itself, but medical procedures.”

“enlighten me.” law challenged, standing in front of the table.

looking up from your texts, you rested your elbow on the table and rested the side of your head on your open palm. “well, this text says,” you replied, flipping the book in front of you, “that way back when, humans would sharpen rocks to create scalpels from the grand line waters because they’re ‘blessed’. a surgical knife with these ‘blessed properties’ supposedly caused successful procedures, not the skill of the doctor or surgeon alone.”

“so you’re saying that the environment was the cause of a person not dying?”

you nodded enthusiastically. “yes.”

“what about now?” he asked. “as in, with current medical technology?”

“well, you’re the doctor. you tell me.” you smiled. “do you think your scalpels and medical tools are blessed?”

law scoffed, pulled the chair back in front of the table, and turned it around so he could sit on it backward, resting his forearms on the backrest.

“i wouldn’t say blessed,” he started, “but i do so happen to be blessed with the skills of being an actual doctor.”

“well then, dr. trafalgar,” you smirked, “enlighten me.”

law raised an eyebrow. “on what?”

“how you can successfully manage surgeries without a blessed scalpel.”

and that invitation was all he needed.

“first of all, how well a scalpel works has nothing to do with superstition but instead with what it’s made of. dull scalpels can cause more damage than good. surgical steel is ideal because it stays sharp.” he started.

“so you’re saying the guys who sharpened the rocks were lucky?” you smirked.

“yes…in a way.” he admitted. “but, were their tools sanitized? that alone can cause infection.”

“of course they did their best to clean them,” you defended. “but these humans had limited resources so mistakes are bound to happen—unintentionally, doctor.” you quickly added.

law blinked and slowly nodded his head. the way you countered his points were seamless. he was finding himself dangerously close to liking this conversation.

“yes, but advancements in what tools are made of make surgery easier and safer. without technique, any tool is useless.” he scooted closer to the table. “may i?” he asked, motioning to the books.

“proceed.” you chuckled.

“if you really want to look into this seriously, i’ll find you a book that doesn’t revolve around superstitions…”

and just like that, hours slipped away and law found himself not only grateful, but enjoying a conversation without someone other than himself.

[imsryyimlate]

law x anthropologist!reader meeting for the first time?

sure! 👍🏽 i also included her having a health condition, and she has a devil fruit power!

— pairing: law x anthropologist!reader

eating the rock rock devil fruit came with many advantages, especially when it came to your travels. as an anthropologist, you lived for exploring and studying artifacts, particularly the evolution of early medical technology into modern-day.

your powers made excavations effortless: you could dig through dirt, dismantle obstructive rock formations, or even create floating stone staircases to reach inaccessible places.

one day, as usual, you were traveling by yourself, going through a dense forest that was rumored to have an abandoned dig site that you wanted to check out.

unfortunately, you were ambushed by a group of people who saw the jewelry you wore - a necklace, and an amethyst belt rumored for healing properties. many years ago, you were diagnosed with a muscle disorder and amethyst was known as a healing gem. you managed to create the belt and wrapped it around your legs when they weakened, soothing the muscles and accelerate healing.

“hand over the belt and we won’t hurt you.” one man said, pointing to the belt z

you smirked. “no thanks.” kneeling, you slammed two hands against the ground. four rock pillars erupted beneath your attackers, sending them flying. some coughed up blood from the force of the impact.

you were underestimated. it was typical but you were used to it.

you easily fended for yourself, not knowing that in the background you were being observed by the heart pirates, and you caught the attention of their captain, trafalgar law.

when the group ran away scathed from your powers, law slowly emerged from the forest, slowly clapping his hands. you turned around and saw his crew trailing behind him. as you raised your hands waist high, rocks of different sizes emerged from the ground.

“that was a show.” he remarked.

you arched an eyebrow. clenching your fists, the rocks instantly sharpened into lethal spikes.

“high praise from a former warlord of the sea,” you replied. “congratulations for your success regarding the emperors as well, by the way.” you added tilting your head.

law smirked. “it was a team effort.”

“if you don’t mind,” you said, lowering your hands. the spikes crumbled back to the ground, as you continued, “i’d like to continue my work uninterrupted.”

crossing his arms over his chest, law nodded his head. “don’t take too long. i’ll be waiting for you right here.”

“that a threat?” you asked, brushing dirt off your jeans.

law shook his head. “no. it’s a fact.”

“in that case,” you mused, taking a few steps closer, “i’ll see you in a couple hours.”

[imsryyimlate]

[imsryyimlate]

take a break while watching this little bunny cross your dash

[imsryyimlate]

always me

— sfw, but angsty

— summary: separated after joining doflamingo’s crew, years later, you and law find yourselves on the battlefield not as childhood friends but enemies.

“you’ve always had me.” law called out as he dodged an attack.

“no, i haven’t.” you replied jumping back, trying to find an opening. “it’s been years, law. years.”

the two of you continued your duel, law using shambles to disorient you, but you were fast. you were strong and anticipated his moves.

when did she become so strong? he thought to himself.

he remembered the sweet, shy girl you once were, holding his hand while you two wandered through the forests of flevance and how you depended on him for protection. or when you tried to stand up for yourself back at doflamingo’s but ended up getting beat on the ground. it was a complete 360, and he was astonished.

now, here you were, a powerful rear admiral equal to him or perhaps even more given your cipher pol training.

“you think this is justice?” he growled, “fighting crews, people who just want to be free?”

“free to pillage, cause havoc, and endanger others!” you shouted. “this world needs order, and the marines are here to ensure it.”

“you’re fighting for the people who killed our families. burnt our home to the ground. what the hell is wrong with you?” law yelled. your eyes glowed with anger.

“nothing is wrong with me.” you said. “i’m fighting for the people who see stains in this world and want to wipe them out.”

law gritted his teeth, using his room to alter the environment to his advantage.

your attempt to use finger pistol was a success, but the damage it caused law wasn’t significant enough to injure him. realizing you couldn’t win, you stopped fighting. the blue hue of room disappeared, leaving just you two standing in silence.

“go.” you said, walking up to him. “i can’t finish this fight.”

law was silent. before he teleported away, he murmured, “this isn’t over.”

when he disappeared, you knelt down and punched the ground in frustration, channeling your anger and rage.

why did your enemy have to be your childhood friend?

[imsryyimlate]

lipstick stains

— nsfw

— monster trio x f!reader

luffy

“is that a new color?” luffy asked, pointing at your lips with curious enthusiasm.

“you noticed!” you replied cheerfully. “this one’s flavored.”

his eyes lit up with intrigue. “really? what’s the flavor?”

you laughed, shrugging. “no idea. that’s where you come in.”

“really really?” he confirmed, his grin widening as he bounced closer to you.

“mhmmm,” you hummed, leaning in and pursing your lips playfully.

without hesitation, luffy cupped your face, his hands warm and rough yet gentle against your skin. he pressed his lips to yours in a soft, curious kiss, his tongue flicking over the surface briefly.

“watermelon,” he declared with a wide smile. “tastes like watermelon! mind if i lick it all off?”

“be my guest, captain,” you replied with a smirk, your fingers lightly tracing the scar on his chest. “my lips are yours to command.”

luffy tilted his head, his expression turning both curious and mischievous. “that so?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “then how about you put that mouth of yours to work?”

your grin deepened as you knelt before him, your lips trailing kisses down his chest, leaving faint, watermelon-flavored stains against his skin. his breathing hitched slightly, his fingers twitching at his sides as he watched you. you paused at the waistband of his shorts, glancing up at him with a teasing look before unbuttoning them.

as you slid his shorts and boxers down, he let out a small, surprised laugh. “whoa, you’re not wasting time, huh?”

“not when i’ve got orders to follow,” you teased, taking his length into your hand and pressing a soft kiss to his tip.

when your mouth enveloped him, luffy’s laughter melted into a contented sigh. his hands instinctively found your hair, his fingers threading through it as you moved. “guess i taste like watermelon now, too,” he said, his tone light and amused.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. “then i’ll be here to lick off every kiss mark i see,” you promised.

luffy’s grin returned, wide and carefree. “good! looks like i don’t have to tell you to do exactly what i want. you’re already perfect at it!”

his words, so unfiltered and genuine, made you laugh softly against him before returning to your task.

zoro

there were no lipstick stains on zoro’s face, neck, chest, or stomach. those marks you left were reserved for the most intimate parts of him - places only you had the privilege of reaching. a trail of color adorned the insides of his thighs, the sensitive skin below his waist, and his hardened length. though zoro cared for you more than he often expressed, he guarded these moments fiercely, unwilling to let anyone else witness the vulnerability you pulled from him.

“y’know,” you murmured, your lips brushing against the heat of his inner thigh as you trailed soft, lingering kisses, “i’m pretty sure the crew wouldn’t care about seeing a few marks on you.”

the warmth of your breath against his skin sent a shiver through him, and his fingers twitched against the sheets. “i’d never hear the end of it,” he replied, his voice low and gruff, though the slight rasp revealed just how much your touch affected him.

“when did you ever start caring about what people think?” you teased, your lips moving closer to the place he most needed you.

he inhaled sharply when your hand wrapped around his base, steadying him as you angled your head to kiss his length. “it’s not about them,” he muttered, his fingers finding their way to your hair as he guided you.

“then what is it about?” you asked softly, your words muffled against his skin as your lips pressed closer, your lipstick leaving faint, tantalizing stains.

“privacy,” he said, his voice strained, “is a luxury on this ship... and i prefer certain parts of us to stay that way.”

your lips curved into a small smile, the intimacy of his words warming you. “fair enough,” you murmured, letting your tongue trace along his length, savoring the way his breath hitched above you.

his grip on your hair tightened as you kissed up to his tip, your lipstick smudging slightly as it mixed with the beads of precum. the sight of you, the deliberate pace you set, made his jaw clench as he fought to maintain some control.

pulling back for a moment, you looked up at him, your gaze meeting his intense, half-lidded one. “you’re thoughtful,” you whispered.

zoro’s response came not in words but in the way his hand tightened in your hair, his body trembling as you returned to your kisses. every kiss and motion was a reminder that while privacy might be a luxury, moments like this were far more valuable - something just for the two of you.

sanji

sanji’s face was covered with your lipstick, and he loved it. the marks, though temporary, were his favorite - a vivid reminder of your touch, of the moments he got to keep just for himself.

that night, the ship was quiet, the gentle rocking of the ocean the only sound apart from the occasional creak of the wood. sanji stood leaning against the kitchen counter, extinguishing a cigarette in the ashtray nearby.

“looks like it’s just us,” you said as you stepped into the kitchen, your voice quiet but laced with intent. you walked toward him with a sway in your hips, your eyes gleaming with mischief. “everyone else is asleep.”

the cook smiled, his expression tender and adoring as he straightened to meet you. “lucky me,” he murmured, pulling you closer with a gentle but firm grip. his forehead rested against yours, his warm breath brushing your skin.

sanji’s long, elegant fingers toyed with the waistband of your pants, slipping beneath to graze your warm skin. his touch sent a shiver through you, and you leaned in, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.

you trailed your lips from his mouth to his cheeks, leaving soft lipstick stains, then went down the sharp line of his jaw, and then the curve of his neck. the faint marks were his skin like a map of your affection. meanwhile, his fingers slipped your pants lower, brushing against the heat of your center through your underwear.

a soft moan escaped your lips, and sanji’s smirk widened, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric to tease you further. one finger slid in, then a second, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing soft gasps from you as your body melted into his.

your hands found their way to his shoulders as you steadied yourself, your lips moving to his ear. you bit down on his earlobe gently, eliciting a quiet groan from him before you kissed a path to the back of his neck. his pace quickened, his fingers finding the rhythm that made your knees tremble.

“sanji,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breathing.

he pressed his lips to yours again, his kiss deep and full of longing. “kiss me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire. “kiss me until my face is stained with your love.”

his words sent a thrill through you, and you obeyed, your lips finding every inch of his skin, leaving a trail of soft, smudged marks as his fingers brought you closer to the edge.

[imsryyimlate]

random shitpost so u dont miss me too much

[imsryyimlate]

librarian!law doesn’t tolerate late book returns. he doesn’t hesitate to give the returner a late fee, and adds more to the expense if they give him attitude.

librarian!law is a heartthrob to anyone who visits the library. what’s funny is that he doesn’t know it. he just thinks people are there for books or a quiet place to study.

librarian!law wears glasses. it adds “hot professor vibes” to his already mysterious and handsome reputation.

librarian!law kicks people out if he sees them texting or take out a laptop. to him, libraries are meant for books, no electronics.

librarian!law is single. it takes a lot to get his attention, and he rejects anyone who shows romantic interest in him (so good luck).

librarian!law always wakes up before sunrise to go through with his morning routine of a shower, coffee, breakfast, and a walk. he then takes the bus to the library.

librarian!law has light jazz music playing in the library. it’s the only noise he allows other than people asking him questions about books or checking out.

librarian!law doesn’t smile.

librarian!law has a collection of medical texts dating back to medieval times to the present. he keeps them locked in a glass case only for show.

[imsryyimlate]

how to sin

— catholic au

— spotify playlist

priest!law x f!innkeeper

rating: nsfw

summary: after arriving to town to manage your uncle’s inn, you are informed that despite his lack of presence, you are required to go to church every Sunday. But, who knew that behind the cold, God fearing priest was a man starved for affection and want?

word count: 2.2k

“Make sure to go to church. I arranged for you to help out after services or during your free time from the inn with Father Law.” Your uncle said before he left. “Now. I’ll see you in a month, alright?”

“See you then.” You smiled.

After a bit more conversation, he mounted his horse, gave you a final wave, and rode out of town. You watched until he disappeared down the road, sighed, and turned back toward the inn—your home until his return. He trusted you to watch over it, knowing you’d do an excellent job. You were reliable and liked to keep busy.

The Dove Inn.

The name fit it well. Doves were a symbol of peace and purity, and your uncle was deeply religious—a little too much for your liking. But, being the dutiful niece you are, you obeyed and went to St. Flevance Church every Sunday.

After you entered the church on your first Sunday, you marveled at the church’s architecture. It had tall, vaulted ceilings, the floor was made of stone, the steps leading to the altar were smooth marble, and the tapestries that hung on the walls were painstakingly detailed and depicted Jesus’s birth to death, and resurrection.

Upon sitting down, you admired the wall to ceiling stained glass window behind the altar and podium. A lot of love and effort was put into the church, and it showed.

“You’re the new innkeeper, right?” An older woman next to you asked.

“Yes. I’ll be here for a month until my uncle comes back—”

“Church. Every Sunday.” She interrupted.

You blinked.

“Oh, I planned to—”

“Good. Father Law would be displeased. And when was your last confession? Was it—”

A wave of silence spread throughout the church as the ministers came in, followed by Father Trafalgar Law, a man in his late twenties to early thirties, dressed in black robes, a white collar around his neck, and wore a cross necklace. Sunlight from the stained glass poured through, and glinted off his gold earrings.

He was a handsome man, dark hair, had mysterious, gold eyes, and held the invisible baggage of sin and blood over his shoulders.

“Poor man’s been through so much.” The woman commented.

“The Lord be with you,” Law greeted at the podium. His voice was low, smooth, and mesmerizing.

“And with your spirit.” The congregation, including you, responded.

Law’s eyes scanned the people, and, given you were a new face, his gaze was on you a little bit longer than others. He knew who you were, of course. Small towns made it easy to know such things.

What he hadn’t expected was the quiet flicker of want that stirred within him at the sight of you.

It was your eyes.

Your damn eyes.

And the way your mouth said those words that got his attention.

Clearing his throat, he carried on with the liturgy of the Word, the Eucharist, and then Communion. Afterwards, he gave the people the final blessing and ended the service.

“Go forth, the Mass has ended,” he commanded.

The congregation spilled out of the church and once it was empty, you approached Father Law hesitantly.

“Father,” you began, “my uncle, the innkeeper, said I was to assist here during his absence.”

He turned and looked at you. Once. Twice. Then he nodded.

“Yes,” he dragged, “you can start by sweeping the altar.”

You nodded, and turned—only for his voice to stop you.

“You’re new here.” His gaze settled heavier on you. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to come to me.”

“Yes, Father,” you murmured.

And something about the way you said it was heavy in the air between you both.

A week passed.

Mornings you’d tend to the inn, afternoons you’d be at the church. Your days were easy, monotonous, and predictable.

However, what you didn’t anticipate was the way Father Law looked at you, and how you caught yourself looking back.

On most afternoons, he held confessionals and you watched different people from town enter the booth leaving with either smiles or tears. You wondered what sins they confessed, what regrets they carried. But, more than that, you found yourself preoccupied with his voice.

Husky. Resonant. Enigmatic.

But it was also soft. He valued the human soul, and emphasized how frail it could be, how easily tainted it was without vigilance. You heard him say these words and many more to townsfolk that went to him for guidance.

While you admired his voice, Father Law drank yours like wine. Whenever you spoke with visitors at the church. Whenever he passed you in town, or heard you sing hymns with the congregation.

It was smooth as milk. Warm as a gentle flame. Captivating like a rainbow after a storm.

And he swore he could get drunk on it.

God have mercy on him he would, without fail.

And he feared that no prayer or sermon could save him.

On the third Sunday after Mass, he asked you to help him replace the altar candles. You obeyed, but not without brushing your fingers against his when you grabbed the same candlestick.

“Forgive me,” he said, quickly withdrawing his hand. His desire from your touch seeped into his thoughts. His eyes focused on your fingers, imagining them stroking his cock until he was ruined and begged for more.

“I—um, no, it’s my fault, Father.” You whispered. Both of you resumed your tasks, but your mind didn’t: images of his fingers curled and moving in and out you, his thumb gently pushing on your bottom lip to kiss you and them undressing you bit by bit, his lips kissing your skin.

It was filthy.

Your thoughts for each other.

After the candles were replaced, you hurried back to the inn, feeling his gaze on you as you opened the church door and left.

That night, alone in his rectory, Father Law sat hunched over a chair, fucking his fist to the thought of you. Of kissing him. Of you straddling his lap with your hands pressed against his chest. His hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady while you fucked yourself on him, panting his name and moaning prayers.

“Heavenly Father,” You whispered against his mouth, breathless, “I ask for your mercy and forgiveness.”

Thrust.

“For lusting for Law. A man of God.”

Not Father Law.

Not Father Trafalgar Law.

Just Law.

“Fuck—” Law bit out, stroking faster.

Maybe it was true.

He wasn’t Father anymore.

He’s now just Law.

It was Monday, the day after your fantasies. The inn was slow, and your usual routine ended early. As always, you headed toward the church. But not to help, but confess.

After seeing countless townsfolk enter and exit the church for confessionals, you decided it was your turn. Taking a deep breath, you slipped through the curtain and sat on the wood bench.

“Bless me, Father for I have sinned.”

Law sat on the other side of the booth, heart beating fast and hands clenched in tight fists. His fingernails dug deep into his palms, hard enough to leave bruising indents.

He was burning for you. Burning for you like a candle, and you were feeding the flame.

“It has been one month since my last confession.” You admitted.

“There is no judgement in the House of God,” he replied in an even tone.

You slowly nodded and curled your fingers together. “I’ve been lonely.”

“Loneliness isn’t a sin.”

“Yes,” you paused, “but there is someone…” then your voice trailed. “And I want to be with him. Not just as a friend, but something more. Father, I’m having impure thoughts about this man and I know I shouldn’t.”

He was silent.

“I’m worried that I’ll give into them.”

“What thoughts do you have about this man?” He asked quietly.

“I want to touch him. Kiss him.” You replied. Then you took a deep breath. “Father, I want to fuck him. And I’m not married. I have been lustful for a man I shouldn’t want, can’t have.”

He didn’t reply. Law had one hand was down his slacks and closed his eyes as he stroked himself. He leaned back against the booth wall and imagined you sprawled out under him and moaning his name, you bent over his desk and him taking you from behind…you kneeling in front of him, your perfect mouth around his aching cock.

I need you.

“Lust is an easy sin to give into,” he resumed, stroking himself faster. “Yes, it can make you feel complete, whole. But, sometimes, the temptation can be too strong…the want overpowering your conscience. And when that happens, I pray you will find the strength to not act upon them.”

As he pleasured himself, you clenched your thighs together, imagining him making sweet love to you. You inadvertently moved your hips as if he was fucking you in the booth.

“But Father,” you whispered, “I think I’ll give in.”

“Give in?” He clarified.

You nodded. “Yes. He’s worth it. And I think he feels the same way. For me.”

His strokes slowed. “Be careful around this man. He struggles with lust as well.”

Before you could respond, Law ended the confession. “I absolve you from your sins. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

“Amen.” You finished. Before you left the booth, he added:

“You should meet him at the altar tonight.”

You nodded, stood up, gathered your skirts of your dress, and hastily left the booth, leaving him alone with his release spilling over his fingers.

That night, he knelt on the steps in front of the altar in his traditional black robes, slacks, white collar propped in place, and his cross necklace hung down his chest.

His palms were pressed together as he looked up at the stained glass windows, candlesticks flickering and the moonlight shining through. The church was quiet, serene. Peaceful.

But his heart wasn’t.

Law knew it was wrong to invite you to the church, especially since both of you discovered you wanted more than just stolen glances.

When you opened the door and quietly closed it behind you, he remained in front of the altar. Silently praying. Trying to clear his head. Wondering if he should send you away or keep you close.

Your familiar footsteps echoed down the aisle as you approached and knelt next to him. Waiting.

For a moment, there was silence between you two.

“You asked me to come, Father.” You said softly.

Law exhaled. “I shouldn’t have.”

You didn’t respond, sensing more to his reply.

“I crave you.” He turned his head to look at you. He shifted his stance so he was no longer kneeling but standing on the cold, marble steps. He motioned for you copy him, and when you did, he gently slipped his fingers under your chin. “I hunger for you. I burn for you.” He paused. “And I can’t stop.”

His lips hovered over yours.

“You don’t have to stop, Father.”

“No.” He said. “Call me Law.”

“Law…” you echoed.

“I’m not supposed to want you.” He continued in a desperate whisper.

You slowly breathed in. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting someone.”

“You confessed you wanted to fuck me.” He recalled, “And I can’t stop thinking about it. About how you’d sound beneath me. How you’d feel.”

You swallowed. “Then take me. Here. Like this.”

He shuddered. “God forgive me.”

Law traced your cheek with a set of fingers, softly kissed your lips, ruched up your skirt, and traced your bare skin underneath. His warm fingers slowly ran up, his breath hitching when you deepened the kiss.

He gave in, the cold, reserved Father Trafalgar Law. The kiss became desperate when his fingers were in between your thighs. You bit his lower lip gently, asking for access and he complied, opening his mouth.

Tongues collided, hearts beat faster, and you gasped when he pushed you against the altar, your back against the cool stone. Still wearing his robes, he slipped his slacks off, turned you around, and you bent over it so you were facing the stained glass window. He hiked your skirts up, slipped your panties down, and ran his fingers down your clit.

Both of you shivered with desire—you from his touch and him from barely contained lust.

As you were bent, he aligned himself with your folds and teased you, rubbing his hard cock up and down your wet entrance.

“Is this what you wanted?” He whispered into your ear. “To be fucked by a priest? A man of God?”

“No.” You breathed out as he laced his fingers in between yours. “I want to be fucked by a man.”

“I’ll be that for you tonight.” He rasped in your ear. Then, he slowly entered, moaning quietly as he stretched you.

You sucked in a breath and bit your lip as he thrusted, slow, hesitant.

“Law.” You whispered. “I can take more than that.”

“God, forgive me for wanting what I shouldn’t…” he begged, looking up at the ceiling. “Forgive me for wanting this more than Heaven…” then he looked at the cross on the altar. “Forgive me for being weak.”

He pressed his forehead against the back of your head and went faster. You clenched the velvet table runner with each thrust.

“Law—” you quivered under his touch.

“You’re my weakness,” he said in your ear.

Thrust.

“My thirst.”

Thrust.

“My sickness.”

Bites your neck. Leaves a bruise.

“My ruin.”

Grabs your throat.

“My sin.”

Thrust.

“Mine.”

[imsryyimlate]

soft sex where we can’t get enough of each other with lots of kisses and murmurs of how much you love me

[imsryyimlate]

oh mr. bushido, the things i would do for you

[imsryyimlate]

unforgettable

modern au

surgeon!law x f!reader

nsfw

summary: you and Law met under circumstances none of you expected.

Law needed a break.

After a grueling 12 hour surgery, he went to the Sunny Satellite, the nearest nightclub to his apartment. He didn’t dare go to one near the hospital—he has clean and respectful reputation to keep. After parking in a dimly lit corner of the parking lot, he swiftly put his black sweater over his scrubs and lifted the hoodie over his head. Then, he trudged with a heavy heart to the front of the nightclub and ventured into the loud crowd, a combination of drunk dancers or those looking for attention.

Law was neither of those. He wanted to escape.

By the time you entered the nightclub, he was already at the bar and on his third shot of alcohol. As he drank, you sat next to him exhausted from your move.

“Long Island Iced Tea,” you muttered to the bartender.

“Stressful day?” Law mumbled after you ordered.

“Yeah.” You nodded. Once you got your drink, you took a couple sips. “Looks like you had one too.” You pointed out at the three empty shots in front of him. Law nodded, finishing his fourth.

“I don’t normally drink.”

“Same.”

You took another long sip and started brief conversation that ended with both of you taking another drink. Another shot. Just enough to make you two feel the burn of your days and the fact that you both needed a release.

To forget.

Just for one night.

“My car is in the parking lot…”

“…oh?” You asked, leaning closer.

“No names. No numbers.” He said quietly.

Nodding your head, you extended your pinky out. “No names. No numbers.”

Acknowledging the promise, Law hooked his pinky with yours.

The faint taste of his drink along with yours swirled together in your mouths as Law pressed you against the door of the backseat, kissing you roughly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

When he finally unlocked it, he clumsily opened the door and broke contact with your lips as he pushed you inside.

Once your back hit the leather seat, you pulled him in, Law slamming the car door shut and moved his warm lips on your neck, biting the skin and cooling it down with kisses as you slipped your fingers at the waistband of his scrub buttons. He supported himself with one hand on the driver seat’s headrest while the other against the back window. You took your joggers and underwear off in one motion, leaving them hanging at your feet.

“God—fuck—” he whispered against your mouth as pressed his erection against your wet folds.

One hand slammed against the passenger window in front of him for balance while the other fingered you, eliciting a gasp.

“On birth control,” You moaned breathlessly.

That was all Law needed to hear before he slammed into you, biting his lip as your pussy welcomed him in.

Your head fell back as your body tensed. “F-fuck…” you gasped.

Law laced his fingers with yours and pinned them against the window.

You wrapped your legs around him—your joggers and underwear in a heap on the seat—as he pounded into you, the cramped space making each motion rougher and desperate.

His car rocked. The windows fogged up. The leather was slick from sweat and smelled of sex.

“Your pussy is made for me,” he hissed in your ear, biting the lobe. “She’s taking me well…you are…”

You shivered and motioned for him to switch positions. You climbed onto his lap, one leg on either side, and without breaking eye contact, lowered yourself onto him again while you took your shirt off.

Both of you were running off of stress, adrenaline, and alcohol as you pulled his sweater and scrub top off.

Eyeing your chest, Law slipped his fingers under the fabric of your bra, tracing your breasts. Then he slowly ran his fingers down your curves and kissed the palm of your hands with a gentleness you’d expect from two lovers, not a one night stand.

Then he gripped your hips and thrusted up, jaw clenched and eyes burning into yours with an intensity he saved for chastising residents who didn’t follow his instructions.

“I am taking you well.” You whispered, putting a hand on the car ceiling as you increased your pace.

You rode him hard, chasing the high you felt while he slammed into you.

“You fucking are,” he moaned.

You hummed in response as you leaned down to kiss him, his lips parting as your tongues collided. His fingernails dug into your skin as your hips rolled faster against him.

With your free hand fondled his sac, making Law’s breath hitch as he closed his eyes.

Both of you came at the same time, breathing heavily while your foreheads remained against each other’s.

You collapsed onto his chest, his dick still inside, your ear against his heart, and his hands wrapped around the small of your back.

“No names.” Law whispered, resting his head against the window.

“No numbers.” You breathed.

[imsryyimlate]

too sweet

— sfw

levi loves your lips. he especially loves it when you wear that strawberry flavored chapstick hange gave you for your dry lips. at first, levi hated feeling the sticky substance, but once he licked it off, he got hooked.

your chapstick became an innocent addiction for him, and you didn’t mind.

“c’mere,” he whispered, motioning you with a finger. you followed and smiled, taking the chapstick out of your pants pocket. you innocently opened it and slowly applied it over your lips, eyes looking into levi’s as if you were silently challenging him.

what are you going to do about it?

his eyes darken as he watched, his breath shaky.

“what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and thick with anticipation.

“just freshening up, captain.” you replied, putting the chapstick away. you pressed your lips together, covering the surface and let out a pop when your lips were covered.

“you have no idea what you do to me, right?” he whispered as he leaned closer, his lips hovering over yours.

“not a clue.” you answered, feigning innocence. levi smirked and closed the gap between you two, his tongue greedily licking the strawberry off before it made its way in your mouth.

[imsryyimlate]

street fighter!zoro takes no shit from anyone. Have beef with him? Fine. Have beef with his friends? Prepare to get annihilated.

street fighter!zoro has a huge fan base and fan club, mainly consisting of women and men who like him just to see him fight shirtless with his 110cm chest on display.

street fighter!zoro has a rough and murderous public image but in private, when he’s with you, he shows you softness and affection his fans would kill for.

street fighter!zoro isn’t big on public affection. However, you’re the only person he nods at before a fight, gives secret kisses in alleyways, pulls you into an embrace in the dark, and brushes his fingers with when walking past or next to you.

street fighter!zoro has more enemies than friends.

street fighter!zoro and you always exchange “I love you” winks before fights as well.

street fighter!zoro’s hands and fingers are rough and callused, but feeling them against your skin sends shivers through your body. You didn’t care about that—being with him intimately and physically is the only thing that matters.

street fighter!zoro loves you dearly. He’s never told you in words but in actions—such as canceling a fight to attend that dumb concert you bought tickets for, or having your favorite meal delivered to your work under the name “Ready Player One”.

street fighter!zoro dabbles in swordplay on the side of fighting and has considered changing to swordsmaster!zoro.

[imsryyimlate]

really want to get fucked in missionary so he can put his forehead against mine and make eye contact while he thrusts in fast and pulls out slow, mouths only an inch apart, breathing heavily, reaching so deep that i can feel him in my lungs—