saved-fanfiction

[saved-fanfiction]

private party ♡

➤ summary: It's too goddamn hot out, so Doflamingo surrenders his strength to join you in the pool. (18+)

➤ pairing: donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader

➤ word count: 2.5k

➤ warnings: dom!doffy, pool sex, belly bulge, exhibitionism, getting caught, degradation, established relationship (kinda), fem reader

➤ notes: i am so normal about the doffy pool scene where baby 5 is introduced. i barely ever think about it i swear.... also this is my softest doffy fic and he's still SO unhinged >:3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Dressrosa’s famously perfect weather had been overtaken by a mid-summer heat wave, and today was brutal. The sweltering sun turned the air hazy with heat. Not a single cloud stained the bright blue sky to provide shade from its burning rays. Staying outside for more than ten minutes was a daunting task. Nearly every member of the Donquixote Family was staying cool inside the spacious castle with its doors closed and curtains drawn.

Fortunately, the palace courtyard was an oasis.

An oversized pink flamingo float bounced against the side of the oval-shaped pool as you swam laps straight down the middle, keeping most of your body underwater. The scent of sunscreen and chlorine filled the air. Your lover (for lack of a better word) reclined on a padded couch, sipping a yellowish-pink tropical cocktail decorated with a paper parasol. His signature pink coat had obviously been discarded, but so had every item of clothing besides a tiny pair of shorts. Tan lines had no place on his godly figure.

The king of Dressrosa unashamedly admired you as he sunbathed. Even behind his sunglasses, you felt his lusty gaze trained on the way your body moved – and your skimpy little crimson bikini. You intentionally put on a show for him, arching your back as you dove underwater and making sure your tiny bottoms were pulled a bit too tight against your ass. 

Both of you were completely alone. Doflamingo had even sent away the servants who periodically refilled his drink and brought out poolside snacks. You weren’t entirely sure why he chose to keep the pool after he became king – the only ones who really used it were you and the women who hung around Señor Pink. The Family’s Devil Fruit users safely stayed dry on the surrounding lounge chairs, and Dellinger hated chlorine. Doflamingo did love his pool parties, though.

Getting lonely and bored, you swam to the edge of the pool, emerging near Doflamingo’s feet and wiping water out of your eyes. The blonde placed your own drink on the ground in front of you. 

“You jealous?” You grinned cheekily, sipping the chilled liquid through a neon pink straw. “It must suck to not be able to swim, especially on a day like today. The water is soooo refreshing.”

Doflamingo chuckled at your boldness. “I’ll live.”

“I’ve never even seen you go in.” He was certainly good at keeping you company while you swam, though, and his flamingo float was ideal for cuddling (and less appropriate activities). “You won’t drown in a few feet of water.”

“Water takes away my powers, baby.”

“Boooo.” You splashed a small wave onto his hairy legs. “You can be without your strings for five minutes. Get in here.”

If anyone else did that to him, he would’ve forced them on their knees and made them beg for mercy. Luckily, he found your bratty playfulness more amusing than irritating. Certainly better than an overly passive, demure lover. And the pool did look nice, beautifully shimmering under the relentless sun. It was even more tempting now that cool droplets of water ran down his calves.  

To your surprise, your lover sighed exaggeratedly but actually stood from the couch, stripping down to his underwear and revealing his half-hard clothed bulge. As you excitedly went to grab a blow-up beach ball on the other side of the pool, you could’ve sworn you felt something tugging at the strap tying the bikini around your neck.

Doflamingo kept a cautious hand on the railing as he strolled down the pool steps, hissing in relief at the cold water. Strength be damned, this felt incredible. He kneeled down and reclined backwards to submerge his enormous body, though he kept his head above water, and soaked off the undignified layer of sticky sweat coating his skin. Thank fuck his throne birthright wasn’t on some desolate winter island. 

You trotted back over to him while tossing the ball in your hands. “Doffy, I think my top is coming undone. Can you fix it?” 

Innocently turning your back to him and holding your hair away from your neck. He grabbed the thin red strings pitifully slipping out of their knot, but instead of tying them, the blonde let them fall past your shoulders. Before you could react, his big hands forced their way under your bikini cups to openly grope your tits. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted, pet?” He giggled maniacally as he tugged at your nipples. Being on his knees evened out your height difference a bit, so he curled his giant body over yours, his hard abs pressed flush against your back. Kneading your breasts with no gentleness, squeezing them like stress balls. “Getting all wet for me? Teasing me with this pathetic excuse for a bathing suit?”

You bit your lip – he wasn’t wrong, but you did want to play volleyball with him first. The ball fell from your hands and sadly floated away. 

Doflamingo pulled off your top and carelessly tossed it aside. “This tiny thing leaves nothing to the imagination, it’s fucking disgusting. I want you to wear it every day.” He pressed a quick kiss to your shoulder then bit down as he harshly twisted your peaked nipples. “But just for me.”

“P-Please, Doffy…” You wiggled your hips, squirming against him.

“Needy slut.” Laughing giddily, he licked across your teeth then plunged the wet muscle into your mouth. Pineapple juice and expensive white rum lingered on his tongue. One hand cradled your jaw to keep your lips locked as the other trailed down your tummy underwater, slipping under the waistband of your bottoms. 

Doflamingo teasingly caressed your mound then harshly pinched your clit, then tugged at the sensitive nub. “That’s for splashing me earlier.”

“Shit, I’ll splash you again,” you chuckled, letting your head fall back against his shoulder.

“You’re such a damn masochist, making me get creative with my punishments.” You nearly folded in half when his long fingers ran through your slit, but his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. His free hand went back to caressing your tits. The blonde giggled in delight when he felt the slick between your legs – you were so responsive, so easy. “This doesn’t feel like pool water. You’re all worked up from a little kiss?”

“You’re all worked up from watching me swim, pervert.” Grinding your ass against his massive bulge to emphasize your point.

The blonde slapped your tit and you jerked against his tight hold. “It’s a good thing your bratty mouth looks so pretty wrapped around my cock, since you’re starting to piss me off.”

Maybe your alcohol-induced cheekiness had reached its limit. Doflamingo’s infatuation with you made him no less terrifying. 

He wasn’t in the mood for long and drawn-out foreplay, though he normally adored seeing you break and beg for his cock with tears in your eyes. But your tiny cunt couldn’t even take his tip without loosening it up first. Being blessed with a perfect body, godlike height, and a monster cock was such a curse.

Resting his chin in the crook of your neck, the blonde observed the way his nimble fingers expertly moved inside you. His string abilities were gone but he still worked his puppeteering magic inside you, scissoring your wet walls apart and prodding at your sensitive spot. The adorably wanton whines falling from your lips made his dick twitch. 

Once he decided you were ready, he easily flipped you around to face him and sat down on the pool steps with you in his lap. Doflamingo freed his heavy cock, letting it spring up and bounce against his abdomen underwater. Instead of taking off your bikini bottoms, he simply pushed them to the side to expose your cunt.

“I’ve never fucked in a pool before,” the blonde chuckled, grabbing underneath your thighs and easily manhandling you into position. Even with his strength drained away, he was still much stronger than the average person – those sculpted muscles weren’t just for show. “You better feel grateful, darling. I hardly have any ‘first time’s left.”

The thick tip of his cock forced its way inside, then a harsh thrust made your eyes roll back into your head. Water resistance made the movement less intense than he intended, but several inches of his massive length were snugly inside your pussy. He continued pulling you down until a pretty bulge protruded from your stomach, though he still wasn’t fully sheathed in you. Doflamingo sighed in relief and reclined back on his forearms, submerged in the turquoise water up to his pecs. “Go on, please your king.”

You braced your palms right above his flashy gold nipple piercings, found your footing, then started riding his dick at a slow pace, feeling every vein and ridge drag against your inner walls. The water rippled and lightly splashed around you with every movement. 

Doflamingo traced the outline of your lips, and you batted your eyelashes coquettishly as you sucked his finger into your mouth. Definitely a mistake – you pulled away with a scrunched up face and tried to spit out the overpowering taste of chlorine. He cackled and shoved two digits all the way down your throat, twisting them around to hear you gag. 

The king was in paradise. Summer sun beating down on his face, cool water coating his tanned skin, and his favorite toy bouncing on his cock. He was getting bored with the slow grinding of your hips against his pelvis, but he was too relaxed to do anything about it. Getting out of the pool and back into the unbearable heat was the last thing on his mind. 

Doflamingo grabbed the meat of your ass to abruptly take over control of your movements. He bobbed you up and down, admiring the way your tits jiggled before leaning forward to suck a nipple into his mouth. Fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, gripping tighter when he abused your tits even more.

He rubbed the outline of his cock in your stomach then pressed down on it. You bit back a debauched moan. An angry vein popped in his forehead before he grabbed your cheeks and squeezed meanly. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me.”

“S-sorry – mmmh!” You choked on your own spit when he suddenly slammed balls deep into you, his gigantic cock molding your insides to take him perfectly. 

The sound of a door opening echoed throughout the courtyard. You froze and anxiously sought out the source. Diamante emerged into the sunlight, his red eye makeup smudged by sweat and using his hand to fan himself. You leaned forward against Doflamingo to cover your breasts, not wanting to ignite his possessive nature, but made no other move. The blonde didn’t even flinch.

Diamante squinted in confusion. Sun-sparkled water blurred and distorted your lower halves, but what you were doing was incredibly obvious. “Doffy, why the hell are you in the pool?”

His boss was buried in your guts and that was what he was concerned about? 

Doflamingo grinned. “The water actually feels great. You should try it – oh, but not now. I’m a little busy.” The blonde jerked his hips harshly up into you, making you keen. Pink sunglass lenses stayed trained on his friend in an almost challenging way. “What do you want?”

The elite officer just huffed, making you believe that this probably wasn’t the first time he saw Doflamingo like this. An odd pang of jealousy struck you at the thought. He never caught you.

“It’s nothing serious, just find me when you’re done.” He snickered as he stepped back inside, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll keep Dellinger and Sugar away from here. Have fun.”

When the door slammed shut, Doflamingo pressed his lips to your ear and whispered, “I felt your pussy get tighter when he looked at us. You filthy whore. You like being watched? Or do you like being owned by me?” He sounded ecstatic. “I’ll fuck you on camera and broadcast it to the entire country if that makes you happy.”

A shiver ran down your spine. “That’s t-terrible.”

“No, it’s a fucking good idea. Then everyone’ll know who the prettiest girl in Dressrosa belongs to.” His surprisingly sweet comment was punctuated by his hips bucking into you, shoving the head of his cock insistently against your cervix. 

Doflamingo flexed his thighs and began using you like a fleshlight, setting a fast and rough pace while letting out incredibly erotic groans. His tanned skin looked irresistible, so you leaned forward to mouth along his thick neck and then kiss him passionately. Doflamingo eagerly reciprocated, rewarding you by pressing his thumb against your clit to rub circles against it. 

“My perfect little toy,” he panted between kisses, a long string of saliva hanging off the tip of his lengthy tongue. “Such a good girl, so eager to serve me. I couldn’t ask for anything more.” 

Something about the intense heat or the negative effects of water seemed to bring out his more romantic side – though there was nothing romantic about the way his dick bullied its way inside you. You gripped onto his shoulders for dear life, feeling your cunt throb around him. 

“Doffy, ‘m so close, p-please let me…” 

Beautiful eyes peeked out from under his sunglasses – lust-blown, predatory, and crazed. “Cum for me, pet.”

Lips slammed against yours as the building pressure inside you exploded. Your cunt gushed and soaked his cock in your juices, stars flashing behind your eyes. Doflamingo obsessively swallowed your moans, rubbing your clit through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He rutted his hips like a feral dog before he felt his balls tighten. Thick ropes of cum sprayed deep inside your walls and filled you to the brim. Through hazy eyes, you noticed how divine he looked at his peak – damp blonde hair sticking to his forehead and sun reflecting off water droplets coating his skin. Head thrown back in bliss, plush lips parted and letting out a heavenly, whorish moan.

Breathless and giddy laughter snapped you out of your trance. “Whatcha looking at, baby?” His cock was softening, but you felt it twitch from narcissistic delight.

You shook your head to clear your mind, dipped your hands in the pool, then ran your damp fingers through his hair. He instantly relaxed into your touch, sighing contentedly. “I told you it’s refreshing.” 

“And you were fucking right. Maybe I should use the pool more – it’s not like anyone is stupid enough to attack me in my own palace.” Strong, scarred arms wrapped around your shoulders and squeezed you tightly against him. Doflamingo hummed happily, then released you and nodded towards the couch. A grin never left his face and his shaded eyes never left yours. “Be nice and grab our drinks, then get right back here. Our private pool party isn’t over.”

[saved-fanfiction]

Oh no, it's Ghostface! HANMA S.

Synopsis: When you ask your boyfriend what he wants for his birthday, he tells you that it's a secret. How is it his birthday but you're the one getting surprised? You don't question his intentions and proceed with your day at work. Little did you know the kind of tricks Hanma had up his sleeve.

word count: 3,7k

pairing: hanma x fem! reader

content warning: dark content, slightly cnc (read at your own risk), slight breath play, gvn k!nk, fear play, rough oral sex (m! receiving), lots of drool, a bit of mindbreak?

The sound of heels clicking on the floor fills the hallway as you approach your apartment door. It had been a long, exhausting day, yet a smile still manages to find its way onto your face as you remember the date. October has never been your favorite month, you can’t exactly pinpoint the reason why but you’re always filled with sadness as the colder season approaches. 

Probably seasonal depression, who knows?

Inserting the key, you push the door open nothing but darkness greets you. It’s rare for the apartment to be engulfed in such suffocating gloom, especially knowing that your boyfriend preferred a dimly lit space. Still, you brush it off, proceeding to remove your knee high boots and place them on the shoe rack.

“Shuji?” you call out for your boyfriend, eyes trying to make out any details but it’s difficult. So you reach for the switch and flip it. Still nothing.

Did the power go out? 

It’s a pretty expensive apartment complex, you highly doubt that the power goes out and Hanma does nothing about it. So you try again, and again and–still nothing but darkness. 

“Shuuu,” you drag the first syllable of his name on your tongue, grabbing your phone to turn on the flashlight. Since it was his birthday, you had half expected him to stay home, but then again he was Kisaki’s right hand and it wasn’t rare for him to receive phone calls from the shorter man asking him to take care of something for him.

However, your body feels a little tense. Your shared apartment with your boyfriend was rather spacious, and there were many spots you disliked walking by during the night because of how hidden they were. You proceed down the hallway with your phone’s flashlight illuminating the path in front of you, sighing deeply when you notice that all of the rooms’ doors were closed and none of the curtains had been opened all day. 

You’re about to point your flashlight towards your bedroom door when you hear something to your left and freeze.

No way. There was no way for it to be Hanma. His shoes were gone, so were his car keys–but this area had a lot of security and no one would be able to walk in unless they had special access to the main lobby. There were no signs of forced entry and every single window was closed–your brain is running a thousand miles a second, and you’re too busy trying to make sense of the noise that you had just heard to react fast. Before you could point your flashlight properly towards that one corner, you swipe your thumb across your screen and click on ‘contacts’.

Suddenly, you’re pinned to the wall with such force that it knocks the wind out of your chest and a gloved hand covers your mouth in an attempt to muffle the scream that rips out of you. You’re dizzy–you’re breathing fast and trying to make sense of what’s happening around you. With teary eyes, you look up and your heart drops in your stomach. A shiny, terrifying ghostface mask is right in front of you and whoever’s wearing it is breathing hard. They notice your trembling lip, the tears coating your lash line and tilt their head to the side. 

Trembling, you think they haven’t noticed the phone in your hand despite the flashlight being the only source of light. Your thumb messily swipes across the screen and finds Shuji’s contact at the top of the list. Press call. 

The sound of a familiar ring tone fills the apartment, your eyebrows furrow in both confusion and fear. Was he here? Maybe he was hurt and needed your help and–

But the longer the phone rang, the deeper it sank that the sound was way close to you. Way too close. 

Your breath hitches as you watch the tall masked man reach into his left pocket. A gloved hand grabs the familiar phone and your name appears on the screen. Before picking up the phone, he pushes your hand up until you’re forced to press the device to your ear and you watch as he mirrors your actions.

“So, you got a boyfriend?” The unmistakable, chilling voice sends shivers down your spine. You recognize the unsettling calmness to it and all your body can do is melt against the wall as your knees buckle. But the tall man isn’t having any of it, and he pins you even harder against the wall. His gloved hand goes from your mouth down to your neck, and the grip is all too familiar that you can’t help but let out a strangled moan. 

Despite the fear gripping your bones, you part your quivering lips to reply.

“Why… Do you want to ask me out on a date?” Your voice comes out small and unsteady, and you sniffle, desperately blinking back tears. A low chuckle escapes the man’s lips as he feels your harsh swallow beneath the grip of his hand.

“Maybe… Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Before you could even manage a reply, you feel him push his knee between your thighs and a loud gasp escapes your lips. “I–”

“Do you?” The emphasis in his voice combined with his knee rubbing against your clothed pussy leaves you breathless. You can’t give a proper reply, not with your head tipped back in pleasure and your hips bucking up when he grazes your aching clit. Sensing that you were enjoying yourself, your boyfriend pulls away his knee and you’re immediately whining at the loss. 

“Shuji–” you can’t see his face or what kind of expression is behind the mask, but you would hope that your desperation moves something in him. However, you forget that your boyfriend is a ruthless criminal, someone with years of expertise in physical and psychological torture. And he makes sure to put it to good use. 

A pained moan escapes you when you’re being roughly pushed off the wall, only for your chest and cheek to get pinned to the cold, hard surface. Your phone falls to the ground and Hanma grabs both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back. You feel powerless as he pushes up the brown leather skirt you were wearing, hissing when he sees that you were wearing the smallest pair of underwear beneath. 

“Did ya prepare for this, doll? Knew I was gonna fuck ya senseless the moment you walked in–” he momentarily breaks character, forgetting the role he’s supposed to be playing and you feel your heart and pussy swell. Being able to distract a man like Hanma was something you took pride in. You instinctively push back against him, brushing your ass against his crotch and hear yet another loud hiss from the man.

“Fucking slut.” The plastic part of the mask feels chilling and unsettlingly hard against your ear as filth spews out of his mouth. Muffled and low, the sound of his voice alone is enough to have your mind reeling at all the things he will say.

“Answer me.” You don’t expect something hard to press against your clothed pussy so soon, your jaw drops at the cold feeling as you struggle to get away from it.

“Shuji!” you cry out for the man, but to no avail.

“Shuji,” he says in a mocking tone, pressing the item harder against your pussy as he grabs your wrists in place. “How fucking pathetic, you’ve already gone dumb just from something rubbing against your pussy?” His voice drips with dark amusement. Hanma knows how to have fun with you, sex with him is never boring simply because the way that his brain works was fascinating–but you had always wondered if you could get a glimpse of a darker side of him. 

However, up until today, he always rejected the idea. Primarily due to the fact that you were his girlfriend, someone whom he cherished with all of his cold and sheltered heart and a person whom he liked to keep away from his business. To the world, he is Hanma–a ruthless killer with a criminal background that could paralyze anyone with fear but to you, he was Shuji. Your sweet, loving boyfriend. 

Your loving boyfriend who always fucked you when he came back from a mission with blood painting his face, your sweet and doting boyfriend who let you ride his face because you found him so hot when there were a few cuts and bruises there. You suggest that he integrates his dangerous side during sex and he refuses, but the idea lingers at the forefront of his mind the longer he remembers the pout sitting on your lips and how eager you seemed with everything. 

So, the first step was to buy a ghostface mask. 

And the second was to fuck you while he wears it. 

“Yes,” you answer, barely catching your breath. “I-I prepared.”

“Oh yeah?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “You wanted me to fuck you?”

“It’s y-your birthday,” your breath hitches when the cold material presses harder against your clit, and Hanma watches as you subconsciously move back and forth against it with a wide grin. 

“Fucking hell, look at you. Do you know what you’re fucking yourself on, slut?”

You whimper, a sign of confusion and Hanma offers an amused chuckle before pressing the mask against your ear.

“My gun.” 

He sees your eyes widening and laughs loudly when you don’t pull away or flinch. Instead, you move your hips back and forth–slow and sloppy, face burning with shame. This had been a fantasy of yours–you’re starting to believe that Hanma has wanted to do this just as much as you did. 

“Didn’t know you wanted it this bad,” he’s obviously caught off guard by how needy you are, but it doesn’t stop him from pressing harder and nudging your clit in ways that have your eyes roll to the back of your head. He watches as shame leaves your body and it’s replaced by pure lust as you chase your high. You’re panting, eyes screwed shut and lips parted to let out the sweetest moans. 

“Yeah just like that–” you can feel his hard on pressing against your backside, but you’re far too distracted to care. “Use my gun to get off. Good girl–my pretty slut.” 

Pleasure courses through your veins like hot lava, it blinds you momentarily and shuts down your brain as you desperately chase your orgasm. You’re certain that the sentences you were blabbering made no sense, you could hear Hanma speaking to you and could make out that he was mocking you by saying “Oh yeah?” “Oh baby, poor you.” but none of it mattered when you were so close to your release. Your thighs tremble, your voice a pitch higher and there’s drool dripping down the side of your mouth. The knot in your stomach feels hot and tightens with each desperate grind against the gun. You’re about to cum, you’re so fucking close–

A pained cry leaves your lips when Hanma pulls the gun away, heartless and cold. 

“Why?! Why–” you sob before flinching when he lets go of your wrists to spank you harshly.

“Are you fucking questioning me?” He grips your hair harshly, pulling your head back and craning your neck at an uncomfortable angle. “You don’t fucking deserve to cum.”

“But–but Shuji–” still gripping your hair, Hanma pushes you down until you’re on your knees and you instinctively turn around until you’re eye level with his crotch. Eager and blinded with lust, your hands reach for his belt and start to unbuckle it but Hanma grips your hair tighter and you gasp at the pain.

“Didn’t say you could touch it yet, did I?” Now that you were on your knees for him, Hanma could confidently say that this was the hottest sight ever. Your makeup was smudged, mascara running down your cheeks and your eyes were blown out with lust. He should’ve done it sooner. 

“Please,” you lean forward, chin resting on his hard on and your hands rest on his ass. “Please,” you drag your nose against the fabric of his pants, before pressing a gentle kiss to his clothed dick. “I can make you feel good, Mr. Ghostface.”

Hanma lets out a muffled “fuck,” before pushing your face against his dick and you take it as a sign to get to work. You make quick work of his belt and pants before pulling down his boxers and watch as his cock springs free. You don’t waste a single second before wrapping your hand around the shaft, gripping it enough to have the man’s breath hitching. His cock was a work of art, and you always found yourself enjoying oral sex with Hanma mainly because you enjoyed having his cock in your mouth. So you kiss the balls, dragging your tongue along the shaft and don’t give the man a warning before letting your mouth engulf the tip. It’s a small move, but it makes the masked man grip your hair tightly and the silence is now replaced by the much anticipated dirty talk. 

“Fuck, do I love when you use your mouth like that,” he sounds so fucked out, drowning in pleasure that you can’t help but let out a moan yourself. The vibrations send shivers down Shuji’s spine and he is quick to remind you to take the whole thing.

“Suck.” Within a few moments, there is spit and drool everywhere. Your hand strokes the parts you can’t reach, and you pull away to spit on the tip whenever you can before bobbing your head up and down on his cock. Hanma, however, is still not satisfied. 

“You’re gonna take the whole thing.” Your eyes widen at his statement, and you pull away to complain. 

“But Shuji–” your heart stops when you feel something cold press against your forehead. 

“Come on, doll.” You look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and through teary lashes. “Don’t look away.” 

Your hands tremble as they settle on his thighs for support and you’re glad he doesn’t ask you to put them behind your back. Inhaling deeply, you look up at the man as you start to swallow his dick–inch after inch, the deeper he goes, the harder it is to keep your eyes open or stop yourself from gagging. And when you do and try to pull away, Hanma pushes the gun against your forehead. Finally, you manage to fit all of him down your throat and you’re proud to hear the muffled groan that leaves Hanma’s lips. You could’ve sworn that you saw his knees buckle as well, but you can’t afford to focus on anything else with his cock down your throat.

“Good fucking girl, oh fuuuuck,” he lets out a laugh when you pull away to breathe, coughing and trying to catch your breath before grabbing his cock again. “Oh yeah, someone’s desp–fuck, desperate.” you hum in response, taking him down your throat before repeating the same movement over and over again. Until Hanma’s hips buck into your face and he presses your nose against his pubic hair. You cough and gag, drool spilling down your jaw. You’re smacking his thigh, reminding him that you needed air but to no avail. He watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head and you swear dark dots are starting to form. You were going to pass out, you can’t breathe–

It’s not until your fingers aren’t digging into the skin of his thighs that Hanma lets go of you. He watches as you fall to the ground, a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath and messily wipe the drool on your chin. 

“Up.” He speaks, and your body responds to his command as if it were second nature. You feel dizzy, and the longer Shuji wears the mask, the more difficult it is to remember who’s behind the mask. A gloved hand grabs your jaw, pulling you close until the lips of the mask are brushing against your own. 

“Tell me,” he says lowly, his other hand traveling down to grab your ass. “How much do you want me to fuck you?” 

“So-so much,” you admit, broken. You can no longer think straight or try to mask the lust. Your body craves Hanma like the moon needs the stars, you’ve never been teased like this–so heartlessly, without being able to look into his golden eyes for comfort and a way to ground yourself. There was no reminder that it was your boyfriend, the one who gives you the softest smiles and whose eyes meet yours when you’re about to cum. Behind this mask was a different man, and you were starting to lose your grip on reality. 

The gloved hand goes from your jaw to your cheek, and you let out a small noise when you feel him wiping something. 

Tears. 

Hanma is well aware of his sick and twisted desires, but watching you cry is on another level. It makes his cock twitch and his heart beats loudly against his ribcage.

“Beg me.” 

“Please.” You ask, desperately. 

“Again.” 

“Please fuck me–please, Shuj–please.” You start to blabber, lips quivering and fat tears streaming down your face. Hanma finally breaks. 

You’re caught off guard as he throws you over his shoulder, letting out a startled squeak when he forcefully pushes the door open to your shared bedroom. He doesn’t give you time to get used to your surroundings as throws you on the bed before grabbing you by the ankles and pulling you down to the edge of the bed. It’s still dark in the apartment, and Hanma doesn’t have enough time to turn the power back on, so he reaches for the curtains and pulls them open so that the only source of light was the street lamp outside. 

He approaches the bed again, hurried and impatient to fuck you stupid. Before he can reach for your panties, your hand goes to his ghostface mask and he doesn’t have it in him to stop you from taking it off of him. 

Finally, you can see his face. He was all sweaty, flushed cheeks and a few hair strands sticking to his forehead not to mention–his pupils were blown out with lust. This was your Shuji, your boyfriend–the ghostface mask was hot, but you preferred this side of your boyfriend. You waste no time to bring him closer to you, crashing your lips against his in a messy, tongues dancing and spit swapping kiss. It’s anything but romantic, your bodies consumed with an animalistic kind of lust for one another. Instead of taking off your panties, Hanma rips them off of your body and muffles your complaining noises with his lips once again.

“I’ll buy you new ones.” Is all he says before pushing your knees open. Your pussy is glistening with arousal, all puffy and swollen from not being touched enough and Hanma leans down to spit on it and give your clit a wet kiss.

“Fuck–” your close your eyes at the feeling, suddenly growing aware of all of the layers on your body that needed to come off. But you didn’t have time for that, and neither did Hanma. So, he pushes up your turtleneck shirt and watches as your boobs spill out. Holding the fabric, your boyfriend proceeds to push your knees to your chest line up the tip of his cock with your entrance.

He lets himself in, slowly and taking in the way your jaw goes slack and how your eyes roll to the back of your head. You had been craving this, you were practically begging for his cock and watching you unravel just from him pressing inside made it nearly impossible for Hanma to hold back.

“Come here,” he leans down to kiss your lips, sloppy and wet as he starts to move his hips. His cock slides in and out of your tight pussy, leaving creamy rings at the base that has Hanma cursing under his breath. Meanwhile, your head is thrown back and you don’t seem to notice or feel anything but the way that his cock felt against your warm walls. 

“Thought of giving me the best birthday gift–fuck, you are my birthday gift,” the tall man starts to blabber, clearly lost in the pleasure and in the feeling of your tight pussy. “This pussy is the best gift I could’ve asked for–” he bites down on your bottom lip, finally getting you to whine in response. Your hands grip his shoulders when he starts to pick up his pace, eyes widening when his tip starts to press against that one spot.

“Yes right there–oh fuck, right there!”

“I got you.” your legs are thrown over his shoulder and a hand wraps around your neck as he maintains his pace, hips remaining in the same angle that has you seeing stars. It’s not until you’re cumming around his cock, crying and shaking, that Hanma can finally lose himself and fuck you hard. He fucks you until you’re crying for him to slow down, watching as the creamy ring that forms at the base is smeared all over his pubic hair and your hand is pushing at his stomach.

“I can’t–I can’t–”

“Take it,” he says through gritted teeth. “Fucking pussy is milking me dry–holy shit.” he curses as he buries his face in your neck, feeling you squeeze around him as you orgasm again. The feeling of your tight pussy along with your nails digging into his back has the man shooting his cum inside after a couple of strokes.

You both lay there in silence for a couple of minutes, trying to catch your breath and party because Hanma knows you need this skin on skin moment. This wasn’t a moment where he could wipe you down, kiss you goodnight and go to sleep–he needed to be present.

“You okay, pretty girl?”

“Hold me,” hearing the desperation in your voice, Hanma lowers your legs and brings you closer to him. He kisses your cheeks, forehead and then your nose. There are tears in your eyes still, but the eye contact with him helps ground you. The love and warmth in them remind you that it’s him, your boyfriend and not Ghostface who had fucked your face senseless. 

“Happy birthday, Shu,” you say as you grab his face and the tall man can’t help but chuckle.

“Happy birthday to me.”

2024 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

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Out of control

trafalgar law x reader

contents: just law being the biggest tease, suggestive, but no smut, established relationship, everything that happens in consentual

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, law feels up reader, a lot of teasing from law in general - reader is technically gender neutral (ie. no use of pronouns), but has a vagina

a/n: this was originally supposed to be more of a headcanons type of thing, but i kind of suck at writing those, so i've been fighting with it in my drafts for a week before deciding to just make it a one shot. Except it's not a one shot, and i was so focused on the build up that i didn't even get to the actual smut so... part 2 hopefully soon? Dividers made by me. Happy reading, and enjoy <3

word count: 1.761

The steady hum of the Polar Tang’s engine accompanies you as you make your way down one of the ship’s corridors. The sound being only punctuated by your soft steps echoing along the walls. You love the sound, even though it’s very monotone. There’s something calming about it that gives the metal submarine a very welcoming vibe. Once you get over the initial feeling of claustrophobia, that is. You remember the sensation of being trapped when you had first stepped foot onto the ship, hating that the icy, crushing ocean was just beyond those walls, enclosing you from all sides.

But the tough adjustment period was well worth it, as you soon discovered. You had never in your life slept as soundly and deeply as you did on the submarine, the faint drone of the ship lulling you to sleep every night. Together with the fact that you never wake up from harsh sunlight streaming through the windows, it creates the perfect environment to rest.

Plus, sharing a comfy bed with your boyfriend doesn’t hurt either, you think as you round the corner to his office.

“Hey Law, I was supposed to give you these earlier, I only just remembered.” Walking into the room, you don’t look up from the bundle of papers in your hands at first, his silence not out of the ordinary. What you had found intimidating at first, you now chalk up to a certain amount of social awkwardness.

But when you meet his eyes, you’re taken aback by the look on his face. You know that look. He has that ever so subtle smirk and dangerous glint in his eyes, making him seem like he’s about to pounce on you. Or maybe it’s just the lack of his usual scowl. Either way, it automatically makes the space between your legs burn hot in a way you’ve come to associate only with him.

Law’s hat is on the table, leaving his messy hair on full display, and it looks ruffled in that endearing way you like. His casual black shirt brings out his hair colour even more, and the neckline is just low enough to show his collar bones and the top of his chest tattoo. The sleeves, which are rolled up to his elbows, give you a perfect view of his toned forearms. And your eyes can’t help tracing the markings adorning them all the way down to his hands.

“E- everything ok?” You try to sound casual, like you haven’t noticed anything, giving him a light, innocent smile. But you already know the odds are not in your favour. You don’t stand a chance, already struggling not to ogle him too plainly.

“Everything’s ok.” He simply answers, the way his eyes narrow a little telling you he’s onto you. But he doesn’t address it, loving to toy with you. “Are those the inventory lists? It’s about time we plan out next restock, I assume.”

“Ehm- yes! We’ve already assessed our current food reserve and made a general list for things to stock up on. Of course, we always end up adding things last minute, so it’s not the final one.” You ramble on, blinking a little to clear your head and force yourself to look away from your boyfriend’s hands. Your gaze instead meets his, which you immediately regret. He’s wearing his reading glasses, and the way they frame his face paired with the darker skin around his eyes makes your knees a little weak. He has that smart, authoritative air around him, and you’re a little ashamed of how much you like it.

He obviously notices that, too, having taken note long ago of the way your eyes always stray to his hands when he gets you riled up. But still, he won’t break the tension, enjoying the uncertain look on your face. He loves making you nervous. Forcing you to lose your composure.

“Ok.” And after a short pause, “You can leave them on my desk.” As you had made no sign of stepping closer.

“Oh, yes of course.” Only now remembering you had stopped in your tracks a few steps from where he is sitting. You walk up to stand next to him, trying to find a good spot to place the papers without disorganizing all the stuff already cluttering up the space.

Law doesn’t let a lot of people touch his workspace. He doesn’t trust that others won’t disturb the carefully organised mess that only he can perfectly navigate. But he doesn’t help you clear a spot like he usually would. In fact, he’s not even looking at his desk, his eyes still fixed on you with that sly expression on his face.

You don’t notice at first, thankful to focus your hands and mind on something other than the way Law is affecting them. However, your relief is short-lived when you feel his hand gently snake around the back of your thigh, just above your knee. You try to ignore it, but your breath hitches when he keeps moving it, slowly running it further up the inside of your leg.

“Uhm, Law?” You can’t hold back the shakiness in your voice now, knowing he must be reeling in the way you so desperately try to cling to your composure.

“Hm?” Is all he says, voice sounding far too innocent for the situation, but his hand doesn’t stop.

“Uhm- I uhh.” You don’t dare glance at your boyfriend. “Where did you want them?”

“Just anywhere is fine, thank you.” His taunting is apparent only in the way his voice is way too casual for what he’s doing. He gives you a slight squeeze, hand almost at its destination between your legs.

“I’ll just put them wherever then.” You try to quickly end the exchange and leave, but before you can even place down the papers, Law’s hand reaches its target. The bump of his thumb pressing against your entrance, while his index pushes up against your clit. It makes you give an involuntary flinch at the delicious prickling feeling running up your body, feeling goosebumps forming under your boiler suit.

Your head whips around to glare at him, but he holds your gaze, his teasing smirk now a little more pronounced. The way his deep grey eyes pierce you from over the rim of his glasses, paired with a taunting raise of his eyebrow instantly has you blushing. His hand stays where it is.

“Is something the matter?” He simply can’t stop. There’s a deep, dark part of him that relishes in the feeling he gets from putting you in a helpless position. And it’s not because he doesn’t like you, on the contrary. He loves you. You are his partner, his favourite person in the world, the only one he wants, now and forever. And that’s precisely why he needs to knock you off the pedestal he alone has placed you on.

Law is heavily traumatized. Since childhood, he has been a victim of unbearable circumstances out of his influence, completely alone, his survival hinging only on his ability to show no weakness. As a result, Law’s biggest fear is being at the mercy of others, feeling vulnerable. He started to develop cruel and violent tendencies to cope, desperate to no longer live in fear, to stop being prey. Thinking, in his reckless scramble for control, that becoming the hunter is the only option.

Obviously, Law has changed since then, no longer walking into the headquarters of renowned criminals with grenades strapped to his chest. He learned to plan ahead, becoming more strategic and less erratic in his approach. And he also learned that strength lies in numbers more than ruthlessness. But a small part of him will always stay a terrified child whose only tactic is to attack at the first sign of danger.

And you have an unfortunate way of triggering that side of him.

“Law, you know I have work to do.” You frown, trying to hide how much he’s getting to you. A part of you wishes he would simply take you here and now, but you know he won’t. You learned long ago that Law likes to play with his food before eating it.

“I know you do. Is there something preventing you from attending to your duties?” That bastard.

Though he doesn’t show it, Law is terrified of the way you make him feel, of the way he completely forgets himself when you’re around. A part of him craves touching you, wanting you in his arms all night, closely watching your face while you’re taking what he’s giving you. To love you, fully, and to be loved back in the same way. But he simply doesn't believe it could happen to him, so used to neglecting his emotional needs he doesn’t know how to ask for love, sometimes forgetting he even needs it.

So, he has learned to take it. The index finger still applying pressure on your clit starts to slowly move back and forth. You flinch again, a slight moan escaping you this time.

You know you can’t win this. Not while he’s already thrown you off guard. Not while his hand is between your legs like it’s the most normal thing in the world, while you’re struggling to regain your composure.

“Uhh, no, there isn’t.” You respond, glad your voice is somewhat normal at least, since your cheeks are burning. “Sorry, captain, I’ll return to work now.” It takes everything in you to turn around and leave. He was making you feel so needy, almost wanting to give in to his teasing just to have him touch you a little longer.

Law raises his eyebrows again, this time in mild surprise. You have never managed to walk away like this, usually letting him touch you a little longer until you needed more, quickly starting to beg when he refuses to go further and instead sends you back to work. He never thought you would show such self-restraint, forcing yourself to leave despite almost shaking from the effort. And he loves it.

Unbeknownst to you, you have now given Law a new objective: to see how far he can push you before you finally crack, throwing yourself at him, pleading with him to take you as if your life depends on it. Oh, this is going to be very fun.

“See you at dinner.” He teases, but you don’t respond, too focused on leaving with what little dignity you still have and already coming up with a plan to get your revenge.

Thx so much for reading! :D (This is my fic, don't repost! Reblogs are always appreciated <3)

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The Grand Line's Bounty List

Have to now split the Masterlist into multiple posts now because of the amount of links.

HEART PIRATES, KID PIRATES, WHITEBEARD PIRATES, BIG MOM PIRATES, DONQUIXOTE FAMILY

Law The Moment They Started Seeing You Differently Seeing You Differently Part Two An Angry Confession You Need Liquid Courage To Act Lazy Mornings With You Comforting Him On A Bad Day You Get Pregnant After A One Night Stand You Call Them A Term Of Endearment They Touch Your Cold Hands/Feet At Night They Hurt You While Controlled The Little Things They Love With You Confronting Your Feelings After Being Silently In Love Prompt: Accidental Kiss You're There To Ease His Pain They Have A Nightmare You Marry Someone Else You Say Their Name In Your Sleep The First Time They Hear You Sing Prompt: Jealousy Kiss w/Do You Have Any Idea How Much I Want To Kiss You Right Now? You Try To Hide Illness From Him When You Fall Unconscious When You Unexpectedly Appear In The Paper Prompt: "No! Don't Give Me Those Puppy-Dog Eyes!" Valentines Event: Single Red Rose Valentines Event: Cupid's Arrow When You Don't Kiss Them Back

Kid The First Time They Hear You Sing You Call Them A Term Of Endearment They Touch Your Cold Hands/Feet At Night The Moment They Started Seeing You Differently The Little Things They Love With You You're Shorter Than Him Their Favourite Moments To Kiss You The Have A Nightmare You Marry Someone Else You're His Opposite Prompt: Jealousy Kiss w/Do You Have Any Idea How Much I Want To Kiss You Right Now? Prompt: Accidentally Saying 'I Love You' They Hurt You While Controlled Prompt: Desperate Kiss

Killer He Has A Crush On A Strawhat! Reader The Little Things They Love With You You Say Their Name In Your Sleep When You Fall Unconscious Valentines Event: True Loves Kiss

Ace Lazy Mornings With You You Call Them A Term Of Endearment You're Serious Until You See Something Cute They Hurt You While Controlled The Have A Nightmare You Marry Someone Else They Finally See You Jealous The First Time They Hear You Sing The Crew Interfere To Get You Together Prompt: Jealousy Kiss w/Do You Have Any Idea How Much I Want To Kiss You Right Now? Prompt: Taking The Hit For Them Prompt: Secretly Dating w/Desperate Kiss Prompt: Fake Dating (Modern!Au) When You Fall Unconscious He Gets Turned Into A Younger Version Of Himself When You Don't Kiss Them Back

Marco You Call Them A Term Of Endearment Lazy Mornings With You They Finally See You Jealous The First Time They Hear You Sing When You Fall Unconscious

Katakuri The Have A Nightmare You Marry Someone Else Valentines Event: Love Potion

Rosinante/Corazon They Catch You In Their Clothes Valentines Event: Love Potion

Doflamingo Immune To Your Charms, Ch.2, Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10 Ch.11 Ch.12 Ch.13 Ch.14 Ch.15 Ch.16 Valentines Event: True Love's Kiss When You Don't Kiss Them Back

Other Masterlists:

Strawhats

Red Hair Pirates, Cross Guild, Marines, Revolutionary Army

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okay so walk with me here

i cant believe it but im thinking about writing a fic where the redhaired pirates have a party with the whitebeard homies and uhhhhh orgy. just like a 100 people orgy in the middle of the ocean on the deck of the Red Force.

i was thinking mainly ace x reader with ace letting people have a turn with you (you're into it ofc). Specifically I'm imagining a reader that's totally in love with ace but has always secretly had the hots for shanks after meeting him a while back and this party being the perfect chance to let it out.

It just devolves into being passed around between Ace, Shanks, Izou, and a few others and UHHHH

God im going to hell but imagine Ace finally catching on to the hints Shanks has been throwing down and he ends up taking actual cock inside him- and so big for his first time too. Currently you're being fucked from behind by Izou, who's grip on your shoulder and cock in your pussy was the only thing that kept you upright.

You're face to face with your drooling, whimpering boyfriend, eyes squinting, going wide, then pinching shut because fuck he can't take it- how did you take Shanks' cock so easily moments before? Ace's cheeks were so dark and flushed it was hard to make out the freckles near his nose.

Ace scrambled for purchase on the rope, blubbering the entire time Izou leaving lipstick stains down your neck as his manicured nails dug into your thighs,

Just Ace and you fascinated at seeing the other in pleasure

bro i gotta stop smoking it makes me come up with shit that I nEED to turn into a fic one day

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Ties That Bind (2)

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: You have spent your entire life preparing to meet your soulmate. Even with the words inked on your skin, you could never have imagined how badly your other half would hurt you, nor how much you'd want him anyway. Content: GN!Reader, Angst, Soulmate AU, Imprisonment, Medieval AU, Yearning, Unwanted Soulmates, Eventual Happy Ending, Starvation, Isolation Word Count: 4.1k

You think it might have been a month. You have no way to tell other than the meals that are brought to your cell, and you know that those are inconsistent. You thought you had just truly lost track of time until one delivery was accompanied by apologies for the long wait and warning for an even longer one.

“Wartime rationing, you understand,” the soldier had said. And you do. A kingdom would never prioritize feeding its prisoners over its free people, let alone a prisoner of war. You’re at the bottom of every list, and your current bearings truly reflect that. You get a meager meal of rye bread and thick porridge semi-regularly, with some water to accompany it. Once, on a particularly good day, the porridge was replaced with a rabbit stew and the water with beer. It was one of the worst drinks you had ever tasted, but it almost made you feel full for once. On another occasion you were snuck a small bruised apple by one of the soldiers on watch. You don’t know what compelled him to do it, but the sweetness on your tongue almost made you weep.

The Commander’s visits have continued on a semi-regular basis. Not every day, but many of them. Enough that you wanted to ask him what the hell was keeping him off of the battlefield, how he had time to come mock a prisoner when there was a war to be won (or lost, hopefully). But you maintained your silence, and he kept coming. Never as kind or as warm as the first night, of course. Even the begrudging respect of the first day seems distant. He doesn’t speak much, lacking a conversation partner, but he loves to come and stare. You feel like you’re being stripped down to the bone, pulled apart and judged on a scale you couldn’t possibly begin to understand.

One visit makes things a little more clear. “They’re going to kill you if you don’t have anything useful to say, you know.” It’s almost cute, the concern on his face.

It quickly melts when you snort at the idea. So he wants you to talk? Give up your comrades to save your own skin? Ridiculous. If you were the kind of person to do that, they wouldn’t have promoted you. You wouldn’t have killed in the name of a kingdom that you had such little loyalty for.

“You don’t care if you die?” He sounds upset, which is even funnier than the thought that you would care. A month ago he wanted to kill you himself, and now that you’re content to let such a thing happen he’s displeased? Ridiculous. Maybe he’s just upset he won’t be able to do it himself, or that his work saving you will go to waste. Maybe he just doesn’t want to see a fellow soldier die in such a dishonorable way. Executions have never sat well with you either, after all. There’s not much glory to be found dying on the battlefield, but there’s none to be had dying on a stage.

You shake your head at him, shrugging once again. He scoffs at you, continuing. “It doesn’t even have to be particularly important. I’ll take anything.”

Oh, he really is invested in the puzzle you’ve become, isn’t he? You almost feel guilty, knowing he’s never going to solve it. Never going to figure out what pulls him to you, never going to understand why the sight of you behind bars pulls at him. Maybe you’ll haunt him the rest of his life anyway, despite your best efforts. You put your palms up, an attempt to calm him a bit. You tap your lips before you press your finger to them, indicating your lack of communication with him is going to be a permanent issue. He growls, and you can’t tell if it’s directed at you or just general frustration. He storms out, his boots pounding against the rough stone beneath him.

He’s back the next day, and the day after that, but he doesn’t ask you again.

He always makes a snarky comment or two, dripping with disdain, but he hardly goes beyond that. Maybe he feels it isn’t right to kick you while you're down, or maybe he feels a bit of guilt over the clear strain your injuries have brought. Today is the same as any other.

"Still keeping up the silent act?" His tone is neutral, but his eyes betray him. Every time he enters this room, he's a little more upset, a little more unsettled. He doesn't understand why he's so invested in you. You can see slight bags under his eyes; your attempts to spare him are making him lose sleep. You can't bring yourself to feel much sympathy. He has no idea the amount of pain you're saving him from.

You shake your head, giving him the same thin smile you’ve given him every time he’s come to see you. You can’t bring yourself to outright ignore him after the kindness he’s shown you, but you remain steadfast in your goal. You will die before he hears a word from you. 

He lets out a frustrated growl, and you can see his nails digging into his hand. You’re wearing on his patience. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself, but it shakes on his exhale. His teeth are pressing together, turning his usually impassive expression into a grimace. “You really aren’t making this easy.”

There’s a fire under the words, smoldering rage building at your rejection. You wonder why he’s trying so hard; is his soul crying out for yours? Does your silence hurt him nearly as badly as his words hurt you? Is he normally this determined with their prisoners, or is he frustrated at his pull to you?

Your hands brush against your ribs, where you know your words lie. They seem to warm a little whenever he speaks, your body begging you to continue walking fate’s path, to speak your words, whatever they are. But you are determined to keep his body blank, scarred only by the battles he seems to adore.

His eyes catch the movement, lingering for a moment. He seems to soften for a moment, something almost resembling concern flashing through his eyes before the annoyance returns. “Stop touching your wounds. It makes it worse.” His tone is stern. A command from a man so accustomed to giving them.

It sets your teeth on edge, receiving commands from an enemy soldier. Especially the one who did this to you. Wasn’t this the point? To hurt you? No matter his kindness after, he still inflicted the wound. Who is he to tell you how to handle it?

Your hunger, lack of sleep, and screaming pain from your wounds cloud your better judgment, and you let pettiness take over as you scrape your nails down your bandages. Not enough to make any real significance in your pain, just a drop in the bucket that’s been filling with your agony since you arrived. 

He winces as he watches, grimacing slightly. “You’re insufferable, General. Hurt yourself all you want, far be it from me to stop you.” There’s far more bite to his words than his previous complaints, and as he storms off, you wonder if this was his breaking point, and you won’t see the man again, not until your final day as he watches from the audience as your life is snuffed out.

He doesn’t come back the next day, or the day after that. You try to ignore how that stings. Despite how badly you wanted him to leave, his visits were the only break from the monotonous routine you're under, and the only time anybody spoke to you. Without him, you hardly feel human.

They forget to bring you food at least once, you think. You can’t say for sure, since you don’t have sunlight to track the days by, but the growling in your stomach is far worse than usual. Was the Commander ensuring you were fed? Surely not. Maybe they were treating you better when you had his attention, and now that the pressure has left the staff is more likely to let things fall through the cracks. 

It is the intense growling of your stomach that leads to worried whispers among the guards outside, which eventually cultivates in one of them disappearing for a few minutes and coming back with a bowl of something steaming hot. His hands shake as he holds the keys to your cell as the others keep their head on a swivel.

Are they…breaking the rules for you?

When he enters the cell, he places the food down quickly, not daring to look you in the eye. Another soldier slips him a waterskin, which he quickly slides to you, still without looking up. Before you can even open your mouth to speak, he’s already skittering out, taking his position as though nothing happened.

You slowly pick up the bowl, inspecting it. You expect some small scraps, like the apple you were given last week. Instead you find a nice, hearty stew, made with what you think is beef. You take a small sip of the broth, and the flavor explodes in your mouth. A lovely savory flavor hits you. You swear you can taste a hint of wine. This isn’t common fare for a prisoner. Is this…their food? Did one of these men give up their own lunch for the day to ensure you were fed?

No, this is too good for a common footsoldier. This is something that might be given to an officer, or even a noble. Whose food did they steal to give to you? How much are they risking here?

You’re overwhelmed by a lot of feelings. Gratitude, first and foremost. But then confusion: why couldn’t they have just gone to the kitchen? Why the stealth, the subterfuge? That means they must be unable to provide for you through the usual channels, and, more importantly, that they’d be punished for this simple act of kindness. The kitchen hasn’t forgotten you, nor has the rationing gotten so bad they’re depriving those of you at the bottom of the food chain. This was an order. Someone has demanded your starvation.

You close your eyes and wonder. You immediately dismiss the Commander as a suspect. He’s shown you too much kindness to do such a thing, surely. Maybe that’s your soul bond talking, overriding your common sense, but something deep inside of you simply doesn’t want to doubt him. Perhaps whoever told him they wanted information? Maybe the King himself, frustrated at the idea of spending resources on a prisoner not even from his own nation?

You’ll have a lot of time to ponder that later, you reassure yourself. For now you try to savor every bite of your stew, letting the flavors dance on your tongue. You haven’t enjoyed something like this for a long time. Even before your imprisonment. The last time you can remember something this flavorful was the banquet they threw before your most recent deployment. It had been thrown in your honor, for loyal service, but it was more of an excuse for the nobles to party. That hadn’t mattered much. In spite of the dozen marriage proposals you had to fend off from the courtiers and second and third sons and daughters of some of the nobility, you had a great time. It was the last time you had seen your parents, as they told you how proud they were of you. The last time you saw many of your friends before you were sent to different posts, different fronts. You know a handful of them were slain after, in an ambush along the border a few weeks after you had all toasted to a victory you all knew you might not see.

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears begin to fall in your now empty bowl, washing away the last traces of seasoning from the wood. Had you allowed yourself to grieve all that you’ve lost, all that you’re going to lose? Of course not. You didn’t have the time. You had a war to win, to ensure their sacrifices weren’t in vain. Now you had nothing but time, and no way to help them other than your silence. That’s all you can do to save anyone now, isn’t it? Save your friends, your country, your soulmate only by keeping your mouth shut. Powerless to do anything else.

The soldier who comes to collect your bowl doesn’t comment on your sniffling. You appreciate it. You don’t have the energy right now, and you have more pressing issues to worry about than comfort from a stranger, anyway.

"When's my execution?" The soldier jumps when you speak, as they all do. They seem oddly frightened of your voice in particular. You wonder if the Commander's annoyance at your lack of cooperation is so obvious it's made them fear consequences from him. You wonder if he's a cruel enough man to make those fears a reality. Surely not, with the way he treated your wounds so kindly. Or perhaps it was simply your bond that compelled him to do that, and the universe tied you to a tyrant.

No, of course not. Surely it was fear of whoever ordered you to be starved.

"Your...what?" The boy is young, with scraggly facial hair he's better off shaving and a few pimples poorly hidden beneath it. You wonder if this is such an awful place they draft children into their armies, or, worse, they let them volunteer. This young man should not have to know war.

"My execution. I assume it's soon, yes?"

"I'm...we have no current plans to execute you, General." He's shaking in his boots, his eyes sliding away from yours. The thought of death makes him uncomfortable, and your nonchalance even more so. "You're not on death row."

You laugh, looking down at your bandages, turning a sickly yellow after weeks of going unchanged. The Commander was the only one ensuring you survived beyond the week, and he seems to have abandoned that mission. Does this young man not know about your lack of use, or was the Commander lying to you earlier? Maybe his mission to get you to talk was just a personal one. You push the thought from your mind, turning back to the poor boy in front of you. "So I'm a hostage, then?"

He wants to say no, but he doesn't want to lie to you. He's an open book, and you wonder which of your comrades will make this earnest young man's family bury him. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“They won’t take me back, you know. Goa never negotiates for prisoners of war. Strict policy.”

You can see the horror on his face at the idea of you rotting here forever. “Not even for a General?”

“Especially not for a General. I made my oath knowing what would happen if I failed. Frankly, I’d be furious if they did try to make a deal for me. Which they wouldn’t. Anything that happens to me now is simply the consequences of my failure.” He seems upset on your behalf, something you can’t help but smile sardonically at. How many of his countrymen have you cut down? This is hardly a worthy payment for the blood you’ve spilt. Even a lifetime down here wouldn’t offset the things you’ve done in the name of your people. An honorable fight still ends in death. “Tell your superiors if you think they don’t know. I have no value to them alive.”

You don’t want to spend the rest of time rotting down here, thinking about what could have been or the world outside. You’d rather have a clean ending, if you have to have one. Maybe your men will see you as a martyr. That wouldn’t be so bad.

His voice cracks as he speaks next, and you can’t tell if it’s from his age or the fear. “Y–yes Ser.”

You almost laugh. You haven’t been a Ser since that blade slipped between your ribs. It feels strange to get the respect you were so accustomed to outside of these walls. So funny how quickly your sense of self has come undone in your isolation. As the days go on, you feel all of the best parts of you slipping away: your authority, your humor, your kindness. You get the feeling very little of you will be left by the end of it all. They’re killing your soul before they take out of the body it’s leaving behind.

You hope the Commander wasn’t lying about what they’ll do once they realize you won’t speak.

Soon, you find winter has come. You cannot feel your fingers, and you can see a horrible pale has started to spread from their tips downward. You've seen plenty of frostbite on the battlefield, on poor infantrymen with torn coats and hole-filled gloves. You've seen how bad it can get, and you know that soon your skin will start to darken purple, that soon you will start to rot. There is nothing you can do, not with your raggedy clothes and threadbare blanket. The chill is seeping out of the stone below you, an inescapable creeping darkness that will soon overcome you. You had hoped for a more dignified death, but you suppose nature isn't the worst way to go. At least it won't be a spectacle. A small footnote in history at worst, the kind your eyes skim right over. People will not remember you for this. A small mercy.

He has not visited you in days, since the cold swept in. Neither have the soldiers delivering you food, or even the ones who sneak it to you. Maybe they truly are planning on letting you die down here, and the Commander has finally accepted he won't hear a word from you before you do. Maybe he doesn't want to witness it. Maybe he simply doesn't care enough to see it, is content to know you're rotting away.

You know the sound of his footsteps by heart now, despite how much you wish you didn’t. He walks slowly, downright leisurely, to your cell. Your eyes flutter open at the sound of the bars creaking open.

He has a new scar, forcing one of his beautiful eyes closed. A shame. You had decided those were your favorite part of him.

He leans down to you, knees pressing against the stone as he looks at you. His fingers slide over your bandages, and you jump under his touch. There’s little warmth in his eyes, his kindness hidden beneath the cold exterior of a soldier. He’s overlooking your form like a predator, taking in your sickly pallor and jutting ribs. His voice is cold when he speaks again. “Are you feeling like talking now?”

What?

“Hasn’t this been enough for you?” He stares at you as he did on the first day, ready to strike you down at the first sign of weakness.

Did he…no. No, no, he couldn’t have.

The Commander is the one who has been starving you.

His act slips for just a moment when he sees the look on your face, the betrayal and hurt you can’t quite hide. He doesn’t owe you anything, not really, but you realize you had almost trusted him. Never could bring yourself to doubt his intentions, not when you know what you are to each other. But you aren’t lovers, aren’t even friends. You’re enemies on either side of an endless and brutal war, and the Commander doesn’t strike you as the kind of man who likes to lose.

The regret on his face is quickly quelled as he schools his face back to neutral.

You pull away from him with what little strength you have, tucking your knees up protectively, making yourself small. How pathetic. What would the people who trained you think, seeing you show your weakness so obviously like this? They’d be ashamed. Say it would be better for you to fall on the battlefield than to allow yourself to be disgraced, stripped of your dignity. You can’t help but agree with them as you squeeze your eyes shut, shaking your head.

“Still nothing?” He sounds frustrated. Maybe you’re an assignment he’s failing. Maybe he hoped his kindness would get you to talk, get some kind of information out of you, and when that failed he decided to leave you to rot and see if that softened you up. You try to take some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t seem to revel in it, but your growling stomach silences that thought pretty quickly.

You want to tell him to fuck off, to scream to the heavens, but you tell yourself that you’re better than him, showing him mercy like this. That you’ll be able to die with your head held high, knowing that you stuck to your principles, that you were stronger than him, than all of this. You’ll have been kinder than he could possibly know, even after all of this.

But then he opens his goddamn mouth again. “What’s with the accusing looks? I left you to rot like you wanted. I got back onto the battlefield and cut down a hundred of your comrades while you wasted away. Why should I protect you when you can’t give me a single goddamn word?”

What was the point of silence now? You had wanted to spare him the pain, the suffering of knowing what was meant to be and what never was. But why should he be spared? Why must you bear it all on your own, while he gets to move on? Some part of him should rot here with you. Whatever part you were meant to have.

“I never hated you before this moment, Commander.” Your voice is little more than a ragged whisper, but you know he hears you. His fingers tighten against the bars, and for a moment his face betrays him: surprise, confusion, understanding all flash across it at lightning speed. You wonder how he’ll react. If he would be swallowed by the regret he deserves.

His jaw tightens. His voice is quiet, cold. He makes his stance clear very quickly: this is not a man who is willing to love you. This is a man who is furious at being deceived. “I see. That’s a shame, General. I’d always thought this was something reciprocal.” There’s some deeper meaning laced to his words, but you don’t care to untangle it. Your head is fuzzy from hunger and your heart is hardened by the time you’ve spent rotting away down here.

“It wasn’t. It was never meant to be,” you mutter firmly. You let your head loll back, hitting the stone wall with a soft thump. Your eyes fall closed, and you can feel reality start to fade away, sleep slowly tearing at the edges.

“You think you’re the only one who gets to decide that?” He’s clenching his fists, veins popping from the tension.

The kind part of you wants to give him some explanation, about how this was for him, for his own good, but the rest of you is too damn tired to try. “Yes.”

He scoffs. “This is bullshit.”

You can’t help the soft, bitter laugh that leaves you. “That’s something we agree on. This is all meaningless. A joke the universe is playing on us.”

He sounds a bit softer when he speaks again, a bit closer to how he was on the first night, but the undercurrent of rage is still clear. “Some people would want to know about this. Some people think things happen for a reason.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “You don’t. Neither do I, not anymore.”

He pauses. “You used to?”

“I used to believe in a lot of things,” you murmur.

For once he doesn’t have an answer for you. The man who spent a month begging for your words left speechless now that he has them. You expect some kind of regret, or more anger, but instead he stares at you, face unreadable. When he closes your cell door, you can hear the metal clang from the force. He walks away, his footsteps echoing loudly against the cobblestone as he walks back to his life, with a new understanding that it will be one he spends alone.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay @hank88999 @lala27715 @kyllium @nerium21 @praline357 @fangeekkk @loserclub22 @starchild-unnamed @bethleeham @whitelaxe @tiredpoetrybitch @fangirlbitch02

[saved-fanfiction]

Dreaming of You Masterlist

Main Masterlist here

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. NSFW, mdni, 18+

Series:

Heart-Pirates: Law, Penguin, Shachi

Kid-Pirates: Kid, Killer, Heat

Marines: Koby, Helmeppo, Smoker

Donquixote: Doflamingo, Caesar, Rosinante

Cross-Guild: Crocodile, Mihawk, Buggy

Straw-Hats: Zoro, Usopp, Sanji

ASL Brothers: Ace, Sabo, Luffy

Red-Hair Pirates: Shanks, Beckman, Hongo

Zoan-Fruit Users: Jabra, Lucci, Kaku

Old & Bold: Garp, Whitebeard, Rayleigh (& Roger)

Whitebeard Pirates: Thatch, Izou, Marco

Vinsmoke Brothers: Ichiji, Niji, Yonji

Requests:

Katakuri

King

Loki (Elbaf)

[saved-fanfiction]

Source for Pic

Eustass "Captain" Kid

Source for Pic

|The Ghost From The Barrow| - Kid x Fem!Reader 🔞

Summary: You are the daughter of a clan chief in the Highlands, though you are more trouble than you are worth. Some thugs capture you and attempt to demand a ransom, but things don't exactly go their way when their leader, Kid, discovers what you are truly made of.

Source for pic

|The Warrior's Wrath| - Kid x Fem!Reader 🔞 |Part 1| | |Part 2|

Summary: You and Kid, the fiercest worry of your village, get married and happiness is just within your reach. Until Blackbeard, the laird, comes to claim prima nocta and takes you. Somehow, you are able to placate Kid’s anger before you go, yet, when you return filled with marks and bruises, Kid can no longer be controlled.

Source for Pic

|Mine to Protect| - Kid x Fem!Reader 🔞 |Part 1| |Part 2| |Part 3|

Summary: Your father and his allied clans are at war, and you're a liability. When you're assigned a guard to protect you - against your will - you do everything in your power to infuriate him. The problem is that he can be more infuriating than you, as you're about to find out.

Source for Pic

|My Personal Hell| - Kid x gn!Reader - 100 followers event

Summary: You protect Kid during a Marine attack and end up pretty hurt. He has a very weird way to show his concern and affection towards you.

Source for pic

|In the quiet of his arms| - Kid x Fem!Reader (though the only reference to gender is Kid calling you lass)

Summary: You are trying to fight off a terrible migraine. Your Captain ends up helping you.

|Dipshit On Deck| - Kid x Gn!Reader

Summary: It's Friday the 13th and - of course - there's a storm brewing. And, pray, what is that black shadow on deck?

Source for pic

|Drowning in Flames| - Kid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You saved Kid from drowning and your thanks involves scrubbing the deck.

Source for pic

|Wicked Game| - Kid x Fem!Reader 🔞

Summary: You've returned from a two-week mission away from the crew, and Kid doesn't leave his workshop to say hello. It's time to take matters into your own hands. Literally.

Art: Here;Artist: @wesaier (pleeeease follow, such amazing art!)

|Reverence| - Kid x Fem!Reader 🔞

Summary: You and Kid are neighbours and very good friends. You flirt a lot, all in good fun, obviously, and he makes fun of every single one of your loser dates. When the last date goes south and you call Kid for help, will your relationship blosom into something else?

Source for pic

|Gone| - Kid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kid faces a loss that devastates him like nothing else. Not even Killer seems able to rouse the Captain from his grief.

Massacre Soldier Killer

Source for Pic

|The Beast Within| - Killer x Male!Reader

Summary: Killer gets bitten on a routine scouting mission and dismisses it as a minor wound. Turns out it was anything but a minor wound. As he starts to transform into something else, you try with all your might to bring him back home. Back to you.

[saved-fanfiction]

The way I giggled like a school girl when Law switched the papers for more fanfic 🤣

Fanboy

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You get a little more than you bargained for when you decide to clean your Captain's office for him and stumble upon his smutty fanfiction. Warnings: Very Mild Angst, Smut, Fem!Reader, Roleplay, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Edging, Minor Dacryphilia, Petnames (use of sweetheart and good girl) Word Count: 7.6k Notes: This was originally supposed to be a sub 2000 word silly one shot about Law writing Sora smut. As you can see, it very quickly got out of hand. I hope you all enjoy it!

You have come to terms with the fact your Captain does not and will never want you how you want him.

It was hard, at first, to hear his silky voice and see his strong hands and not imagine him saying what you want to hear as he holds you against the wall, fingers slipping slowly up your thighs to where you need him most. It got even harder a few years in, after he started wearing perpetually open shirts and coats, showing off the tattoos you so desperately want to trace your tongue across. But you’re finally starting to accept that he simply doesn’t feel the same. His eyes don’t linger on you when you’re around. He doesn’t show you any leniency (not that you would expect any, of course, but it’s hard not to notice his favoritism for Bepo when he forgives him in an instant for a transgression he had you swab the deck for). He doesn’t accept your help when you offer it, no matter how badly he needs it.

He just doesn’t really want anything to do with you, or at least no more to do with you than anyone else on the ship. Penguin and Shachi, who unfortunately clocked your affection for your Captain years ago, have come up with a long list of excuses as to why he hasn’t shown any signs of affection.

“He’s shy.”

“He gets embarrassed easily.”

“He’s worried about the power gap.”

“He only looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Yelling is how he shows his affection.”

And of course, your personal favorite.

“He’s just a nerd. He doesn’t know how to act around women.”

Shachi has repeated this one a lot, and as always you immediately dispute it. “That cannot possibly be true, Shachi.”

“Why not?”

“Look at him!”

“I know what he looks like. Doesn’t change the fact he gets nervous.”

“Captain has never, for even a single moment, shown any sort of hesitation or shyness in front of me. And he’s a grown man, a handsome one, not to mention a wanted pirate. You honestly expect me to believe he’s some shy little nerd who can’t bring himself to talk to me? He just doesn’t like me, Shachi. And that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” Penguin’s voice echoes in the small room he and Shachi share, which you’ve decided to invade for the day. 

“Her pining for Captain.”

“Ah.”

You huff. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s like…a fact of life. Something so easy to brush past.”

Shachi narrows his eyes in confusion. “I thought you said that’s what you wanted to do. Be casual about it, and all.”

“Yeah, I want to. It feels different when you do it.” You’re pouting. You hate that you’re pouting.

Penguin gives you a pitying smile, dripping with good natured sympathy that makes you clench your jaw. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift you too much. He pats your shoulder, tutting quietly. “It’s hard to get over somebody you don’t really want to get over.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. You finally lift your head, and once you make eye contact, his smile turns a little more teasing.

“I know a great guy you could use as a rebound.”

You sigh. “Is it you?”

He laughs. “Who’s to say? You don’t need him yet.” His smile softens again, something more genuine. “But know that if you really do give up, there will be other guys. Other chances. Give this one a good shot, a real one, and if it doesn’t work out? Come talk to us, and it’ll all be alright.”

Shachi pipes up as well. “It will work out, really. But if it doesn’t…” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you can’t help but finally give them the laugh they were clearly aiming for. Which becomes a full on giggle fit once they light up and give each other a massive high five at their victory. The room is warm, and you finally forget your worries for a moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Law’s voice cuts through you like ice, and your laughter stops in an instant. Shachi and Penguin are unphased, of course, still smiling freely.

“I just got off of my shift, Captain. I was going to take a nap, but…” Penguin pokes your side, and you let out a soft squeak as you curl in on yourself. You don’t miss the way Law’s eyes narrow slightly at the contact, the way he seems to focus in on the noise. He must be annoyed with you, with how you’re taking up space somewhere you don’t belong.

“I’m also off shift.” Your voice is small, embarrassingly so. 

“I wasn’t talking to you two.” Law’s voice is just as flat and authoritative as always. He’s nothing if not born to command. You’d love to hear what commands he might give you, if–

No. Bad. Evil. Your mind betrays you, as it always does. You sit up so you can hide yourself behind Penguin, make yourself small and inconspicuous and hope that Law will stop looking at you with those beautiful piercing eyes. You don’t know how long you can be normal under such an intense gaze. 

“I’m on break,” Shachi defends, causing Law’s eyes to shift over to him. You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel the pressure of his gaze leave you, and you wrap your arms lightly around Penguin, allowing your forehead to fall forward and press into his back. You can feel the rumble of a laugh working its way through his chest, though you can’t figure out why.

Law’s voice is significantly harsher than before. “Well, end it.” You flinch, unused to him snapping quite so cruelly. Law may have a shorter temper than he would admit, but he never sounds quite so furious, especially not with Shachi and Penguin. He seems to realize this as well, because the next time he speaks is much gentler. “I–Just get back to work. I need everyone at their best right now.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” There’s a hint of chuckle in Shachi’s voice, for some reason. He stands, bed creaking as he does. “You can use my bed if you want to nap in here. Let Peng have his.”

You let out a soft whine, but peel yourself off of Penguin anyway. “No, it’s fine, I should get back to my room anyway. I need a nap before I do anything else.” You think you see Law nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are firmly on Shachi, glaring at his back as he leaves. Just wishful thinking on your part, as always. 

Penguin softly pats your back as you walk past. “Chin up. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’ll work out?” Law is staring at Penguin’s hand on your back.

“Nothing!” You try not to sound panicked. You fail, of course.

His eyes narrow.

“Sorry, Captain. This is a secret just for us lowly crew members. No captains allowed!” Penguin’s smile is relaxed and easy, and it almost manages to calm you down. You would love to play along, make a little joke out of it, but the idea of him finding out petrifies you. What if he’s disgusted by the idea? Horrified enough to kick you out of the crew, your home, your family? He wouldn’t, you know that, but the image in your head is so clear. Your chest feels tight, your head fuzzy, and you think at some point you started holding your breath.

Law makes a noncommittal grunt, scowl still clear on his face, but he leaves. A small mercy.

“Hey, take a breath, please. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you gonna be alright to get back to your room? Do you need me to walk you?” Penguin’s hand rests gently on your elbow, and he looks ready to jump to your aid at any moment.

You give him a shaky smile. “I’ll be alright. Anxiety’s never killed anyone. Probably.” You take care to walk as steadily as you can out of the room, avoiding eye contact with your Captain, who’s waiting directly outside.

“You okay?” His voice stops you in your tracks.

“Yeah, I’m–” You see the disbelief on his face. “I’ve been better. But it’s okay. I’ll get there.”

“Are Penguin and Shachi giving you trouble? They mean well, but sometimes their jokes can go a little far. I–” He clears his throat, eyes glancing away for a moment. “I could talk to them. If you need me to.”

You chuckle. This means he really has no idea he’s the source of your anguish. Good. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re actually helping me through something.”

He purses his lips. You imagine how soft they’d feel on yours. “Helping you through something?”

“Yeah. I’ve been struggling with it lately, and talking to them has really helped.” You stare intensely at the wall behind him, worrying that you’ll come undone and say something you can’t take back if you stare into his eyes for too long. Something about him just makes you want to melt under his gaze, and you can’t afford to give in to the impulse.

He hums, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have their support.” Is it just you, or is his voice a bit colder than it was before? “I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You try not to run back to your room until you’re sure he can’t hear your footsteps anymore. You change out of your boiler suit, desperate to be in something more comfortable than this, and throw yourself into your bed face first. You press your face into your pillow, trying to ground yourself. You aren’t allowed to imagine what it would feel like to lay on Law’s chest instead, his hands on your back, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. You aren’t allowed to imagine the warmth of the blankets as his, or the comfort of your weighted blanket as his arm around your back. You certainly aren’t allowed to cry about the fact that it isn’t him, and that it never will be. Because that would mean you weren’t getting over him, instead getting lost in a fantasy of what can never and will never be. And you have no time for fantasy, despite what your heart keeps trying to tell you. 

You dream of him, as you always seem to.

You could cope with it, if it were simply sex. If it were about nothing more than his cock and his hands and the way his voice penetrates deep into your bones whenever you hear it, turning you pliable and needy. But today’s dream is one you’ve had before, and one you always dread.

I love you. His hands are gentle as they wrap around your waist, pulling you close. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. His nose nuzzles against your neck, tickling you and making you giggle.

I love you too, Law. I think I always have. Your hands rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating below your fingers, quick and thundering. You smile. Nervous?

Of course I am. Look at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the affection flooding them. His nose brushes against yours, his lips growing closer, and his eyes flutter shut.

Yours shoot open.

No matter how many dreams you have about Law, you can never kiss him. How sad, that your brain can imagine a hundred ways he can fuck you and not one in which gives you the one thing you’ve been craving most.

You throw off your covers and throw on a bra, not bothering to get fully dressed. You need some air, which is unfortunate, considering the Tang won’t surface for at least another day or two. You can at least go downstairs and find a window, press yourself against the glass and pretend you’re out in the cold of the ocean, at peace with the world around you. You can avoid passing Law’s office, and hopefully that means you’ll avoid the man himself. You don’t want to burst into tears the moment you see him, and you feel too soft and fragile right now, like your edges are crumbling. Half of you is still in the dream, melting into fantasy, and being snapped into reality with a single look might shatter you.

You pad quietly out into the hallway, unsure of what time it is, not wanting to wake anyone. It’s impossible to tell what time of day it is on the Tang when you’re underwater, lit only by harsh fluorescents that constantly buzz. It’s peaceful, feeling the cold metal of the floors seep through your socks and hearing the quiet thunk of your footsteps muffled by the fabric. 

“Are you heading downstairs?”

You turn to see Bepo, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, papers in hand. “Yeah, I am. Why? Do you need something?”

“Can you run these to Captain for me? I would, but–” 

You see him wince as he speaks, and you immediately know what the problem is. Before you can even think about it, you’re swiping the papers from his hands easily. “Yeah, of course, big guy. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you so much!” He’s off in an instant.

You stare at the papers, willing yourself into reality. You’re going to bring something to your captain. The man you have no other relationship with. Just doing your job. And afterwards you can go back to your room and cry all you want, if you really feel like you need to.

Law should be in his office right now, buried up to his neck in paperwork. It doesn’t feel great to add to that pile, or to let him see you so underdressed, but Bepo needed help. You can’t let him suffer just to avoid some embarrassment. You make your way down, knocking lightly against his office door.

No voice calls you inside.

Strange. He should be here. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk again. You’ve heard the others scold him for that dozens of times, and you’ve caught him yourself once or twice. He’s going to ruin his back if he keeps doing that. You crack open the door, ready to shift him into a more comfortable position, but you find your Captain isn’t actually there at all. His desk is a mess, papers everywhere, a sharp contrast from the neatly organized shelves and minimalist look of the rest of the room.

“Maybe I should tidy up for him,” you mutter to yourself. Law hates asking for help with things he believes he should be able to handle on his own, but clearly this is getting away from him. And even if he wasn’t grateful for the intrusion, at least it might lighten his load a little. You’d do nearly anything to ease your Captain’s burdens, if he’d just let you.

Before you realize it, your hands are on the papers, your former fragility forgotten as you get lost in the calm that such a mundane task brings you. You start by simply organizing the papers into stacks based on their titles and a quick skim of their opening paragraphs. You don’t read any further, not wanting to read anything not meant for your eyes, and you quickly find you’re able to organize everything into three neat stacks: medical papers, ship logs, and a third stack of anything that doesn’t fit into the previous two. You’re nearly finished when you find a title that makes you pause.

You can’t figure out what What You Can’t Have could mean, or what this bundle of papers is doing in Law’s office. Skimming the first few paragraphs doesn’t give you any explanation, until you start reading more closely and see a name: Sora.

Everyone in the North Blue knows about Sora, Warrior of the Sea, and everyone on this ship knows it more intimately than most. Your Captain’s fondness for the series and your fondness for him means you know it very well, well enough to know this is not one of the noncanonical (but still official) spinoff novels, or a novel adaptation of one of the comics. There’s a character you’ve never heard of before in this, one that, if you were a more paranoid person, you would suspect is based on you. She can’t be, of course. That would be ridiculous. But as you read her introductory paragraph, you can’t help but notice she bears a striking physical resemblance to you. Same hair and eye color, same height, same build. But she can’t be you. She’s described as seductive, enchanting, and many other things you know nobody would ever say about you.

You should put this down. But the writing style is so familiar, and so are the handwritten edits in the margins. Your captain wrote this. You had no idea this was what he did in what little spare time he has. You keep telling yourself to stop reading, to tuck it away and pretend you didn’t see it, because really, you know he wouldn’t want you to have seen it, easily embarrassed as he is. But there’s so much passion in the words, so much care, and frankly? It’s good. Really good. You think he has some real talent, in something you would have never expected him to even try. His care for the series oozes from every word, and he’s really good at building tension, and–

Oh.

Your captain hasn’t just been writing fanfiction about his favorite hero.

He’s been writing smut.

Really good smut, honestly.

You lean against the desk, completely enraptured by his work. The tension between Sora and this unnamed woman is astonishing, every single word winding you up tighter as you wait for the dam to break. Before you know it, you’re fully bent over the desk, clutching the page in your hands, trying not to rub your thighs together at the very graphic descriptions of what Sora is doing with his hands. You imagine Law’s hands, lithe and long, sliding under your shirt like Sora’s do under this mystery woman’s. You imagine his breath puffing against your ear as he instructs, be good for me, now, and maybe you can finally get what you want, just like Sora does. You imagine him moving impossibly closer, feeling his hardness press into your thigh as– 

“What are you doing in here?”

You freeze. Your captain is standing in the door, papers in hand and scowl severe. If you didn’t know better, you would think for a moment his eyes lingered on the cleavage you’re showing by leaning over this far. But you do know better, so you tell yourself he’s simply observing the papers in your hands, even if his gaze seems aimed too high for that. You shoot up, papers still in hand, shirt riding up in the process, and god does it look like his eyes dip down to your exposed midriff in the process. But they don’t. You have more pressing matters than your delusions, anyway.

“Hi Captain!”

“...Hi.”

“I–Um. I was organizing your desk for you.”

His eyes linger on the three stacks of papers, humming quietly. “I see that. …Why?”

“Bepo had me run papers down to you, but you weren’t here, and–and your desk was so messy, so much messier than usual, and I was worried maybe you were overwhelmed and I thought it might help.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, clutching the papers close to your chest in some desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the sound of the papers wrinkling causes him to glance down and now you’re sure that just for a moment he was looking at your boobs and you’re far more flustered than you were when you began.

And even worse, he smiles. It’s a soft, gentle thing, which sneaks so slowly onto his face you don’t even know if he realizes it’s there. But it is. And it’s beautiful. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought.”

Your grip eases on the papers for a second, and the crinkling brings his attention back to them. You don’t know what gives it away, but with the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips part, you know that he knows what you have in your hands. The way he whispers your name, the fear in it, makes your heart clench.

“Captain–”

“Did you–I–” He takes a breath, gathers himself. “Did you read anything you weren’t supposed to?”

God, you did. You’re halfway through a sex scene, flushed and flustered and thinking about your captain in ways that are wholly and completely inappropriate. You’re panicking. You can’t let Law see how flustered you are, can’t let him realize that you were fantasizing about him, lusting after him in his office while he’s out like some kind of pervert. So, trying to turn this around on him, throw him off his rhythm, you decide to make a deeply out of character choice.

You open your mouth, taking a dramatic breath as though you're going to start reading aloud, and you can see the panic in Law's eyes. Before you can decide between reading and handing it over to spare him the embarrassment, you hear “Shambles!” as the papers in your hand are swapped with the ones he walked in with. You're momentarily disappointed, before you look down and are struck with intense and all consuming delight.

In trying to get the fanfiction out of your hands, Law has, in fact, given you more of his fanfiction to read.

You gasp quietly, cheshire cat grin widening. Law looks at you with confusion, clearly still so thrown he hasn't realized what's just transpired. In your current state, you can only think of one way to inform him.

"Her hands were soft and gentle, so small compared to his-"

"STOP." He lunges forward around the desk, powers forgotten as he decides to bullrush you to get the papers out of your hands. His hands wrap around your wrists, and before you know it you’re pinned against the desk, chests pressed together, his leg pressed between your thighs. You flush, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hard body against yours, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you think this is funny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but his lips are so close, and you feel something else pressing into your midriff. You make a small choked noise, and his glare doesn’t dampen.

“Are you trying to embarrass your captain?”

“I–uh–Captain–” You can barely squeak out anything, and he presses closer.

“Answer me.”

“You’re so close.”

He pauses.

He blinks.

And suddenly your captain is across the room, face bright red, holding his papers in front of his chest like a shield. “I–um.” He stares at you a moment, his eyes moving from your face to your chest to your hips and back up, and suddenly the papers shifts down in front of his crotch.

He couldn’t…

Could he?

Before you can process this, he’s speaking again, his tone far less authoritative than it was before. “How far did you read?”

“Uh–pretty far.”

You could swear his voice cracks a little as he whispers, “Oh god. This is–you were never supposed to see that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reading, it was just–it was really good.”

He stares at you a moment, mouth agape. “What?”

“It was–I liked it a lot. I didn’t even mean to start it, I just couldn’t figure out what pile to put it in, and then I got really invested, and–I’m really, really sorry, Captain.”

“You liked it?” His eyes are narrowed, looking at you like something dangerous, like if he shows a moment of weakness you’ll pounce. He approaches you slowly, inching closer and closer.

“...Yeah. I did. I was really impressed, actually. I didn’t know you were a writer.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“Why?”

“I just…don’t know if I’m good at it.” He sounds small in a way you’ve never heard him. You’ve never seen Law less than confident before. He absolutely radiates it, a constant smug grin and twinkle in his eyes. It suits him far better than slumped shoulders and wringing hands.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. What I was able to read, anyway. I couldn’t bear to put it down.” You reach for him for just a moment, your hand ready to touch his shoulder, but something in you pulls it back. You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not as you are. 

He won’t look at you. You can feel his regret in sharing, in allowing his mask to crack slightly. There’s a bitterness to his tone as he snaps at you like a wounded animal. “You expect me to believe that? That you didn’t just read it to laugh at me?”

You can’t keep the pity off of your face. His first instinct is always to believe he’ll be hurt, that an open hand is a sign of a slap, and not a kind touch. “Why on earth would I do that, Captain?”

His shoulders unknot a bit as he thinks it over. You have never done anything to hurt him, and to tease in such a cruel way is not in your nature. He’s not relaxed, not quite, but he isn’t ready to run anymore. He leans against a nearby table, parking himself at a distance but assuring you he won’t go further. “I suppose you wouldn’t. …So you really liked it?”

The way he’s looking at you is so fragile, so soft. You feel your heart clench at the sight of such a guarded man looking so adorable, though you know he would hate to be called such a thing. You can’t help the affection that leaks into your gentle smile as you look at him. “I really did.”

He huffs, trying to bring back up his walls, but he can’t hide his relief, and his continued interest. “What did you like about it?”

“I thought the descriptions were very vivid. It was…” It feels like crossing a line you can’t uncross to call it hot, but he’s looking at you so expectantly. “Very stimulating.”

Something akin to a smirk grows on his face, offset by the dust of a blush on his cheeks. His voice is an octave deeper when he speaks. “Simulating?”

You shiver. “I–uh–yes. The leads had really good chemistry. I never imagined Sora would be so…charming. And I liked the woman too, though I have to admit I didn’t recognize her name.”

He nods. “You wouldn’t. She’s an original character.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to try my hand at something new, and I didn’t like pairing him with any of the canon characters so I just…made one up.”

You shift nervously on your feet, thinking about how remarkably familiar her description was. “So you made her just for this? Didn’t even give her a name?”

“I haven’t decided her name yet, but I’m working on it. And yeah, she’s just for this. Why?”

You want to be subtle, ease your way in, but your mind is running a mile a minute and frankly subtlety has never been your strong suit anyway. “So…is she supposed to be me?”

He shoots up so quickly he nearly falls over. “What? No! No, why would you think that?” He looks absolutely mortified, like he’s praying the floor swallows him whole. He looks about two seconds away from shambling himself out of the sub and letting the ocean take him away.

“Well in her intro, when you describe her…she looks a lot like me.”

“...She does?” He seems genuinely surprised, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you asking? You’re the writer! You didn’t realize?”

“No, I…” He’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “She was just supposed to be a beautiful woman. I didn’t think that hard about what she looked like beyond that.”

“She has the same hair color and eye color as me, you describe her as around my height, and the dress she’s wearing in her intro is my favorite color.”

His shoulders are so tense they’re practically up over his ears. If his voice cracks when he yells, you’re kind enough not to acknowledge it. “I didn’t think that much about it! I just thought of a beautiful woman and I described her.”

“So when you think of a beautiful woman in your head, you see me?”

He doesn’t answer.

You try to hide your giddy smile. “That’s sweet, Captain.”

He avoids eye contact so aggressively you swear it must be hurting him at this point. “It wasn’t–I–I didn’t notice. You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

“That you think I’m beautiful?”

“That I wrote porn about a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. When you put it like that I guess it doesn’t sound great.” He tenses again, so you rush to reassure him. “But no, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s not like you meant to, or anything. Or that you wrote about me and like, another member of the crew or something. Why would I be mad that I just happen to be exactly your type?” Your heart is beating out of your chest as you try to portray a confidence you certainly don’t feel. 

“Right. Yeah. I–There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And it’s…great porn, honestly.”

Your delivery is so awkward the tension finally breaks as he laughs at you. “I appreciate that. I worked hard on it. But I’m not sure on some of the descriptions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure it reads as true to life.”

“Does it need to?”

“No, not really, fantasies don’t have to be realistic. But…I can’t help but think about it anyway. What if part of it is so unrealistic it takes you out of it entirely, and I just didn’t notice? Or didn’t know because I’ve never tried that specific thing? Do you know what I mean?”

You do. You know insecurity in your work, the way it whispers in your ear. You know that words are not enough reassurance to silence those whispers. You want to help him, even if you don’t know how you could.

“What if we…tested it? To see if it’s realistic?” You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth. From the look on his face, Law can’t either.

“What?” A beautiful crimson streaks across his face and up to his ears, heat radiating off of him.

“Oh my god. Forget I said that, that was so inappropriate, I’ll just go–”

“No!” He’s so loud you both flinch, and he seems surprised by his own objection. His long fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his calluses brush against your skin. God, what you wouldn’t give for those fingers to be somewhere else. “No, don’t–don’t leave. I think–I would–um. I’d like that.”

You blink. “You would?”

“Just to…test it. To make sure my writing is accurate. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicker down to where he’s holding you, and to your surprise, he doesn’t release his grip. He tugs you closer, pressing your chests together, and you can feel his warm breath in his ear. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Law.”

“What?”

The deep rumble of his voice is commanding in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together. “I want to hear you say my name. Call me Law.”

“Yes, Law.”

You can feel his smirk as he whispers the next words in your ear. “Good girl.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you bite your lip to keep from making any deeply embarrassing noises. He chuckles as he pulls away, and you see no trace of his earlier apprehension or nerves. You suppose Law has always been a good liar, always putting up the front of the proud, confident, and unshakable Surgeon of Death. What is this but another part for him to play?

“How did it start again?” He places his hands on your hips, leading you away from the desk and toward the wall. “She and Sora meet up in the club, strike up a conversation–”

“Can we skip to the good part?” You hate how needy and breathless you sound. You’re already worked up from reading, from hearing him speak, from being so close, that you think if you spend another minute without some kind of release you might explode.

He chuckles. “I guess we can skip forward a bit.” He presses you against the wall, hand sliding to your thigh. You shiver, but he stops right before his fingers slide under your shorts. “But have you been good enough to earn it?”

You whine, a pathetic, wounded sound that comes from deep within you. For a moment, you see his facade slip as he swallows, trying not to give away how much the sound turned him on. But after a moment his mask settles back firmly in place, and you’re both ready to continue the game. “Please, Law. I’ve been good. I’ll be good.”

His smile is all teeth as his fingers find their place inside of you. First one, pumping slowly and deliberately, curling to hit your sweet spot just right. He moans quietly in your ear at the feeling of it. You know his line before he says it. “Do you feel that? The way you’re pulling me in? You need me bad, sweetheart, don’t you?”

He inserts a second finger right as you open your mouth to answer. “Ahh–Yes! I need you!”

He pumps harder, faster, and his other hand starts to wander towards your chest. His lips find your neck, nipping at the point where it meets your jaw, making you gasp again. His hand gently squeezes your breast through your shirt, and he can feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. He chuckles. “Yes, you do. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I can. You know it. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you’re so drawn to me. On some level you know: it’s just you and me. We’re all there is, all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Law! Yes!”

His free hand effortlessly removes your shirt, and you gasp as you’re exposed to the air, your back pressing into the cold wall. He removes your bra next, letting out a soft hiss of appreciation when he finally sees them fully exposed. “As beautiful as I imagined,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. You don’t remember that line.

His mouth finds your nipple easily, sucking and nipping as you threaten to come undone under his attention. His fingers are still moving, his thumb on your clit, building the tension in your body until you feel like you’re going to explode. You’re so very close to the edge, close enough that in your pleasure you forget the next part of the story for a moment.

Until his fingers leave you.

“No!” Your head slams back into the wall as you wail, tears welling up in your eyes. Law seems unaffected, pulling back from you as he slowly inserts his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste. The only sign that you’ve shaken him is the clear strain of his cock under his jeans, desperate to be free.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and he smiles at you, eyes half-lidded. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? That you would just get what you want, no questions asked?”

You whine, the sound filled with genuine despair. The room is silent for a moment as he stares at you, waiting for your next line, and you try to remember the part you’re supposed to play here. You just barely manage to grasp it, breathlessly saying, “I thought you were a better man than to leave a lady wanting.”

He slides off his tank top, revealing his beautiful tattoos to you. “Oh, honey, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And how wonderful it’ll be, once you’re so on edge you can barely stand it, and I finally give in to you. Can you imagine it?” He pops the button of his pants next, sensually sliding them and his boxers down to expose his bare hips. “What it’ll feel like, when I’m finally inside of you?”

His cock is finally free, bobbing in the air as it leaks with precum. He looks painfully hard, and you swallow as you briefly imagine it in your mouth. You’d give almost anything to taste him right now, but that isn’t a part of the scene.

“You’ll feel so full, honey. Imagine how good it’ll feel to cum on my cock. Isn’t that worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

“Good girl. So agreeable.” One hand finds your hips as he uses the other to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He slowly slides in, feeling the drag of every inch of his dick against your walls. He makes a strangled noise at the feeling, burying his face into your neck as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He stops once he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you both a moment to adjust.

And then another.

And another.

“Law?”

You can hear him chuckle against you. “What, darling?”

“Please, Law.”

He pretends to ponder whether or not to give in for a moment, keeping you in suspense, before he relents. He pulls away from your neck, revealing his extremely red face. His voice may be calm, but the rest of him cannot hide the effects you’re having. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You know the line you’re supposed to say next. She tells Sora she wants relief, wants him to move, wants anything that she can have. But you’re soft, and weak, filled with want. You cannot help but think of your dream this morning, what you were denied and what you’ve always wanted. So you speak the honest truth. “I want you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You see your own want reflected in him, an affection that makes your chest ache. Then a smile blooms across his face, one gentler than you deserve. The line he says next is Sora’s, but what comes after is all Law. “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss isn’t fireworks, or an all consuming flame, or any other way you’d ever heard such a thing described. It was tender, it was kind, and most importantly, it was Law. You’d never wanted anything else. It finally confirms to you that this isn’t a dream, that he’s really here, pressing you against this wall, a desire burning in him that only you can satiate. The lust is still here, the heat of your bodies intertwined, but there’s something tender and real beneath it. 

Once you both pull back, panting, you look into his eyes and know the scene is well and truly over. Now it’s just you and Law, breaths mingling and hearts pounding. He smiles at you, a nervous, delicate thing, his confidence left behind with the script. He’s breathless as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

You let out a soft, unsure laugh. “Is that Law talking, or Sora?”

He brushes his nose against yours. “It’s all me. It always has been.”

You can’t help your lovesick smile, dripping with a saccharine fondness you couldn’t hide if you tried. You meet his lips again, a kiss with a little more fire, a little more desperation. You try to convey everything you can’t say aloud: the years of yearning, the pain of thinking this moment would never come, the euphoria of learning you were wrong. Your hands press against his chest, his pulse fluttering under your fingers in unison with your own. You wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him ever closer. He lets out a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the feeling of your lips against his as you clench around him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and once again the air around you grows ever hotter.

“Can I move?” There’s a whine to his voice. “Please.”

“Please do,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chests together. 

He needs no further instruction, thrusting harshly, hips rutting against yours. You can feel him struggle to hold himself back from pounding into you at a bruising pace. His hands grip your hips, his nails digging in as he clenches his teeth.

“You don’t have to hold back, Law. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He struggles to speak through his self control. “I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time.” Another deliberate thrust has you dragging your nails down his back, making him moan in your ear. “I want this to be as good as it can be for you.”

“This is–ahh!–already better than I’d ever dreamed, Law.”

One of his hands moves to your clit, his fingers starting a steady motion. “Not good enough,” he mutters. His lips find your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along its length, his teeth grazing your skin. You feel yourself coming close to cumming again, your voice growing louder, echoing through the room as you babble. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, the words please and more and Law are all you can say, all you can think. There is nothing in the world beyond the feeling of him against you, inside of you, his soft lips and callused hands. 

You expect him to rip away your pleasure again, but when he briefly stills, your babbles turn to sobs anyway. He pulls back to look you in the eye, take in the sight of the tears running down your face, and you can see him soften once again. His hands and hips start moving again immediately as he presses soft kisses against your cheeks, clearing away your tears.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. You’re doing great. I won’t take it from you again, I promise.” His voice is filled with pity. “You’ve been so good, you can take what you want now.” He builds you back up quickly, his hips pressing into yours even faster than before. You can feel yourself about to burst, and you slam your lips into his, moaning into his mouth. The dam finally bursts, and the pleasure nearly blinds you as you clench around him, his hips struggling to keep moving with how tightly your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your orgasm is what finally makes him break, filling you to the brim as his movements stutter.

You bask in the feeling for a moment, both panting and dripping with sweat, his cock rapidly softening inside of you. Your head lolls forward, pressing into his shoulder, and you press a kiss against his sticky skin.

“Was it worth the wait?” He tries to ask the question in a teasing tone, but you can hear the insecurity underneath it.

“It was worth everything and more.” You shift to wrap your arms tighter around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

You can feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, gathering you up as he slips out of you. “Agreed.” He kisses the side of your head, an action so filled with care it nearly makes you burst into tears again. He tries to lower you onto something, making you pull him closer and whine. “I just need to set you down for a second, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” You sound like a pouting child, making you cringe, but he laughs fondly anyway.

“Alright. A few more minutes. But I have to clean you up eventually, and then we need to find a place a bit more private to settle in, don’t you think? Or at least somewhere more comfortable.”

You hum quietly, pressing your nose further into him. You can worry about logistics in a few minutes. Right now you just want to bask in his warmth, in this dream turned reality, in the absolute joy of your feelings being reciprocated. “I really didn’t think you liked me,” you mutter sleepily. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I could say the same,” he murmurs into your hair.

You laugh. “Shachi and Peng are going to be so smug about this.”

“They are?”

“They’ve been trying to tell me for years, and they don’t get to tell me I told you so very often.”

“They were telling you too?” He laughs. “We could have done this months ago if we’d just believed them.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes starting to slip shut. “You’re worth the wait, though.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as his hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, luring you further into sleep. “Yeah. So are you.”

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay 

[saved-fanfiction]

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.” 

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. “I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn’t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[saved-fanfiction]

if you wouldn't mind could you do headcanons with paulie x fem reader? i love the stinky rope man and any content concerning him :) can be sfw or n/sfw i don't have much of a preference thanks :-)

authors note : lovelove seeing others love this rope boy as much as me .. he's too precious ! did nsfw ones because um... anyways !! >< please enjoy <3

NSFW WARNING <3

<3 <3 <3

minors dni .

<3 <3 <3

Paulie x F! Reader NSFW Hcs

- Despite the amount of manly man energy Paulie possess, i know he's an absolute sub when it comes to the presence of an enchanting woman, like yourself. He’ll do anything you want, whenever. When Paulie falls, he falls hard. He’ll do anything, whether its sexual or not. Paulie discards every bit of shame he has, when he’s in your presence.

- Paulie loves having you sit on his face. Just- he loves pleasing you. It doesn’t matter if its his mouth, his fingers, his dick, he’ll go to any lengths to get you to cum. But face sitting is one of his favourite. Feeling your soft thighs sandwich his head while your sweet fluids melt on his tongue... It’s like heaven. And hearing your moans, feeling your body tremble and quiver above him, it’s too hot.

- Paulie loves being called a pervert. He may do that to everyone else around him as an insult but hearing your pretty voice call him something so humiliating does wonders to him.

- This man has a breeding kink, i just know it. The way Paulie ruts his hips into you, how desperately he’s forcing his cock so deep into you, he’s just begging to knock you up. Its awfully cute, seeing such a strong man grovel to you like that.. seeing him want nothing more then to fill you up.

- I can imagine Paulie loves when you wear cute clothing, it really gets him going. Whether something innocent like a frilly dress or something more sensual, a soft corset pushing up your bust. Paulie’s a rowdy guy, but he loves a gentle aesthetic, especially on his woman.

- If you tease Paulie in public, he won’t be able to contain himself. Even if you do something as simple as walk by the shipyard in a skirt, waving to your boyfriend and the other shipwrights. Boom. Paulie is instantly bricked up at the sight of your exposed legs. He tries his best to hide his undying lust for you, but always fails to do so as blood oozes from his nose. If you aren’t there to fix his ‘issue,’ he’ll rush off to a tool shed, jerking off to the thought of your skirt being pulled all the way up, flashing him a sight of your perverted underwear. But, if you stay to help, he’ll have his face buried in your chest whilst you jerk him off. Paulie wants nothing more then to be close to you.

- Paulie is 100% the type to smoke after sex. So, hopefully you can handle the scent of cigars. If you're a smoker too, he'll share it with you. He finds it relaxing after such a draining activity. Just being together, tangled in the sheets with smoke filling his lungs is oddly comforting.

- Paulie likes bringing his rigging skills into the bedroom, either tying you up or you tying him up. He doesn't care who does what, as long as it's what you fancy most. He personally looooves being tied up, as well as what comes with it. Having you mount him while his wrists are tied to the bed frame is just too much. But if you want to be tied up, he'll happily oblige. He'll tie your legs, preventing you from jerking your legs away while he indulges himself in your pussy.

- Paulie loves playing strip poker with you. He tries to show off his gambling skills around you, both to impress you and to get you stripped down to your socks. But... that almost never happens. Paulie has terrible luck with gambling, regardless of the stakes. He's usually the one who's stripped down by the first few hands played. How embarrassing...

[saved-fanfiction]

I am having respectful thoughts 👀

Someone gloriously sent this on my main blog, which reminded me to check settings for this side blog - so thank you.

Uhhhh yes. This. All of this. I think he'd absolutely be that dude to just appreciate the size difference between you.

Hand holding, massages, you in his shirt?

He's smitten.

[saved-fanfiction]

Franky discovering the types of books you like to read 🥵

Cw: 🔞, afab, thigh riding, hair pulling, dirty talk, oral (you receiving), fingering, wall sex, unprotected sex (wrap it, kids), creampie, smut for smut's sake.

I apologize for this. I wanted to be normal about him, I really did...

Another 3am wakeup.

Another warm night on Sunny.

Another morning you find yourself awake before the others, sneaking down into the kitchen to make yourself some tea and enjoy the silence as you read a book.

Only this morning, the door swings open as you're pouring.

You startle, hand coming to your chest.

It's Franky, looking dashing in the low light.

You hush a hello as he approaches.

"Jeez, you're up early. Or...stayed up late?"

You smile softly. "Been having a hard time sleeping."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I wanted some bubble tea. Would you like some?"

You offer him the cup, grab him a straw. It'd been a special request you made for Sanji to pick up at the last port.

"Oh, Hell yeah!"

You laugh, make yourself a cup as Franky plops down at the table.

"Don't tell Sanji I'm in here."

"Especially when you're barely wearing anything," Franky comments, mid-sip.

You glance down at your shorts and oversized t-shirt.

"They aren't panties," you defend, "I'm clothed."

"Sure, sure. But we shouldn't talk too loud. Cook's probably got this place bugged for these exact moments."

Your jaw drops. "Oh? And he'd be able to pull that one off himself, yeah? No help from someone like you, right?"

He laughs.

"Got me."

There's a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you.

You take a sip of the drink, chewing the tapioca balls with a pleased hum.

It makes early wake ups like this worth it.

Your eyes take in the kitchen. You adore this space, had always dreamt of a kitchen this glorious back home.

When your gaze sweeps over Franky, your heart skips.

He's. Reading. Your. Book.

"Hey!" You round the counter, frantic to get it back.

"So this is the kind of filth you like to read."

"Give it back!" You approach him, reaching for the book, only he holds it above his head, far out of your reach.

You stretch more, trying to ignore how close you are to him, how you're between his knees at this point.

"Franky, please!"

"Please, what?"

You're now aware of the gruffness in his voice, your attention no longer on the book in his hand, but on the way he's observing you, how his chest is pressed against yours.

"This what you're into? That 'push-me-against-the-wall-and-kiss-me' kinda thing?"

He lowers the book now that he's got your attention, gauges your reaction before continuing, "the 'ride-my-thigh-and-get-me-super-worked-up' kinda thing?" He tucks your hair behind your ear. "This okay? Can I touch you?"

"Yes," your voice is hushed. It feels like it's just you two on the ship.

He drops the book down on the table. The thud startles you. You lean into his touch when he grips your hips.

"You're sure these aren't panties?" he teases, lifting the hem of your shirt.

You tap his shoulder in jest.

"Ooh, don't start that. I might like it."

You hold his gaze, his fingers caressing your hips over your tiny shorts.

"You sure you're not an avid romance reader?" You challenge.

"Would you blame me if I said I skim 'em and use 'em like instruction manuals?"

"You're all talk."

He grins. "A challenge, then."

You raise a brow, say nothing.

In seconds, he's got one hand grabbing your ass, the other behind your head, pulling your mouth toward his.

The kiss isn't rushed, but you feel the urgency. Chills cover your body, even though the room is warm.

He guides you down onto his left thigh, tensing his muscles there as he maneuvers you, and grinds his thigh upward to stimulate your clit.

You gasp out, greedy for the sensation.

His fingers grip your hair, yanking lightly to expose your neck. He peppers kisses there, nips gently - all playful - while he's guiding your hips still.

You feel him hardening as you ride his thigh. All wandering hands, he seems pleased just by being touched.

You can't get enough of him. It felt like a loss when his lips left yours, and you're eager to meet him with the same need he showed you.

Gripping his hair, you dip your head down to unlatch his lips from your neck, meet him with a greedy open-mouthed kiss.

You're pawing at him, wanting to feel him in your hand; how big he is.

"Oh, fuck..." he moans when you reach between you two.

Each grind, you pump your hand around him, feel him tensing beneath you.

"That's it-" he pulls away and in seconds, your back is against the table.

You feel his lips on your thighs as his large fingers pull your shorts and panties down.

"Mmm...so fucking pretty," he plants open-mouthed kisses. "May I?"

"Yes. Hell...Please, Franky."

He chuckles darkly against your skin.

His large fingers at your clit, mouth lapping at you, you let out a gasp and cover your mouth.

"Oh, no..." he shakes his head. "I wanna hear you." His tongue swirls around your clit then he tenses it and licks up and down harshly.

You grab his hair, back arching off the table.

It's so good, but you want more.

His hand cups you while he kisses up your body.

His middle finger plays with your opening and you almost worry his hands are too big.

As if reading your reaction, he urges you to suck on his finger, prep it.

His gaze is intense as he watches you suck his finger; erection twitching in his briefs. When your tongue swirls around his fingertip, he groans lowly.

And then he's slipping it out of your mouth before slowly easing it between your legs.

He acts gently, is aware of your reaction, and moans when you take it like a champ.

Shortly after he curls his finger inside you, his thumb presses to your clit as he rubs and the stimulation sends you into overdrive.

Gripping his shoulders, digging your nails in, you cry out for him as you come.

He pumps a few more times, chuckles when you pull him in for another kiss.

The urgency slows for you as you wrap yourself around him, kissing him deeply.

Wordlessly, he picks you up. You're pressed against a wall in moments.

Your breath leaves you from the impact.

He steps out of his briefs then guides himself between your legs.

A few tantalizing seconds and he's filled you, leaning his head against your shoulder as he presses his hand to the wall, other hand holding you up with ease.

The pace he sets is devilishly slow, enjoying every sensation.

Too overwhelmed to speak, you selfishly capture his lips again; the kisses heated and needy.

You're clinging to him. It's been so long since you've been touched. Longer still since you'd been fucked like this.

And he meets you with the same desire, as if needing you wholly as well.

"In your books, I'll bet this is the part where the character says some sexy stuff, huh?"

You laugh out loud.

"Give it your best shot."

He's silent a moment then shakes his head, nuzzling into your neck.

"No thoughts, head empty," he laughs. "Only thing that comes to mind is: it'd be damn irresponsible to not do this again."

"Agreed."

He's captured your hands above your head now so you can't touch him and his thrusts have gotten more intense.

The lack of touch makes you groan, but he makes up for it with more greedy kisses. You can't help but grind into him harder. You feel a bruise forming from your position against the wall.

"Gonna need you to come soon, honey," he hums against your mouth.

The urgency pushes you on and before you know it, you're gasping through another orgasm.

"Mmm...wanna touch you. Please, Franky."

He lets your hands go, leans into your touch when you pull at his hair.

"You feel so damn good," he compliments. "I'm close, damn it. Where do you want it?"

When you say, "in me," he's almost in tears.

"Yes, ma'am," he growls, nipping at your neck before his thrusts become slow and deep.

His breathing is heavy as he cums. Watching this large cyborg fall to pieces makes you feel something. It's almost powerful to be the one to shatter him.

You can't stop touching him. Not after he's slipped out of you, not as he sets you on the floor, not while you get dressed, and certainly not while you finish your bubble tea. You're enamored- playing with his fingers or touching his arms. He seems pleased.

"Same time tomorrow?" He teases.

As you wash the dishes, he comes up behind you, wraps his arms around you, and kisses at your neck.

You realize you never want to leave.

"I'm going to bathe before the others get up." You manage quietly, as if in secret. "Bring my book. Let's reenact a scene."

"You're after my heart."

[saved-fanfiction]

Fake Proposal

in a way or another, accidentally or not, they end up making fake proposals...

characters: luffy, zoro, sanji, ace, law and shanks

a/n: put my whole heart for the shanks one and now I feel lonely af lmao

words count: around 0.6k - 1.9k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

The smell of grilled fish and sizzling meats fills the air as you and Luffy settle into your seats at a bustling restaurant by the shore. The place is packed, laughter and chatter surrounding you as waiters move between tables carrying plates stacked high with food.

Luffy is already bouncing in his chair, eyes darting between different dishes on the menu. He’s practically vibrating with excitement.

“Oi, look at this!” He shoves the menu in your face, pointing at a special section “‘Lovebird Feast’, free dessert for nearly married couples! That’s awesome! I want it!!”

You snort, pushing the menu back down “You’d fake a whole marriage just for free food?”

Luffy tilts his head like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “Duh! Free food’s free food! It's always the most delicious.”

Before you can protest, he’s already turning to the nearest waiter, waving them down enthusiastically, “Hey! We want the lovebird thingy!”

The waiter, a woman with a kind smile, gasps in excitement “Oh! How wonderful! Congratulations, you two!”

You open your mouth to correct her “Stop Luffy, we’re not—“ but Luffy is already jumping ahead.

“Shishishi! We aren’t yet but I’ll do it right now!”

Wait what?!

He suddenly slides out of his chair and drops onto one knee in front of you. The entire restaurant seems to hush. A few heads turn. Somewhere in the back, a musician starts playing soft romantic music.

Oh. Oh no.

Luffy grabs your hand, grinning up at you like he’s having the time of his life “Y/N! We’ve been on so many adventures together, and you always give me food, and you’re really fun to be around!” His grip tightens “So, do you want to marry me?”

The restaurant erupts. People cheer, clapping and whistling like this is the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen.

Your face burns.

This idiot! He didn’t even try to make it sound real!

Still, two can play at this game.

You bring a hand to your chest, gasping dramatically “Luffy, I—I don’t know what to say!” You blink rapidly, pretending to fight back tears “This is so sudden! But...” You clasp his hands in yours, shaking them for extra effect “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

The cheering gets louder. Someone throws flower petals over you. The musician in the back picks up the tempo.

Luffy beams, bouncing to his feet “AWESOME! Now where’s the food?”

The waiter, practically swooning, claps her hands together “Right away, sir! And don’t worry, your Lovebird Feast comes with our cutest personalised decorations, so give us a moment and we’ll get it to you”

Luffy turns to you, grinning ear to ear “See? Told ya it’d work!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying so hard not to laugh “You’re impossible.”

A few minutes later, your table is overflowing with steaming plates of grilled seafood, buttery rolls, and a massive chocolate cake that says Congratulations, Lovebirds! in fancy frosting and two small drawings of your caricatures with hearts around them.

Luffy digs in immediately, stuffing his face with meat and laughing between bites “Man, this was such a good idea! Maybe we should do it again at another restaurant!”

You snort, shaking your head “What, you gonna propose to me at every place we eat now?”

He swallows a mouthful of food and grins “Maybe! You’d say yes every time, right?”

Your heart stumbles over itself for a second, but you quickly recover “Only if there’s free food involved, I guess.”

Luffy laughs, shoving another piece of cake into his mouth “Then it’s a deal!”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t stop smiling. Even if it was fake, and even if he only did it for the food…

You kinda wouldn’t mind hearing him say those words again.

Maybe for real, next time.

You’re now on your way back to the ship and just thinking about telling everyone what happened makes you laugh.

“What are you laughin at?” Luffy asks while bouncing his own belly.

“Sanji’s gonna hate us when we’ll tell him what we did to get free food…” you laugh more.

Luffy suddenly stops and you turn to see what’s going on with him. Only to see him trying to mimic Sanji’s face and expression, “Food isn’t a game!! And why did you use my y/n for your stupid plan?!?”.

You start laughing so hard that your stomach starts to hurt.

“Let’s make a bet Y/N… I bet he’s gonna say the exact same words I said just now” he says putting his hand in front of you.

“Mmh okay. I bet he’s going to say something like ‘How dare you propose to Y/N before me!!!’”

Luffy smiles and “That’s a good one. What do you want if ya win?”

Oh, now this is a hard question… What do you want?

Then an idea pop up in your mind.

“If I win I’ll be the captain for one day!” You say smiling proudly at your own mind, imagining already the things you could do and make Luffy do as his Captain.

“Shishishi, that’s a good one. Okay. But if I win… we’re gonna get a real ring your size for the next time!” His eyes close as his smile widens even more, “So? Deal?”

You heart start beating so fast that you’re bearing breathing.

Why?

Why does he want a ring?

And why is he planning on proposing again?

Then you snap out of your thoughts as you hear his laugh again. You look at his hand in front of you, waiting to be shaken.

“Deal…” you say as you now shake his hand.

Back to the Thousand Sunny the first thing Luffy does is looking for Sanji and tell him everything that happened, excluding the bet part of course.

He even mimicked the expressions the waiters and waitresses had while he was proposing.

Then, after a moment of shock and as you were anticipating, Sanji finally speaks “Mon Dieu , food isn’t a game, idiot! And why did you use my precious Y/N for your dumb game…”

“Oh, you lost Y/N. Now we’ll get a ring!!” Luffy smiles at you, ignoring the way Sanji stopped his desperate act just to look at him like he murdered someone.

You blush hard, not being able to even say a word.

“WHAT RING NOW? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? Y/N STOP LAUGHING, THE IDIOT IS BEING SERIOUS!!”

Sanji keeps trying to stop both you and Luffy, but honestly?

You wouldn’t mind getting proposed again, and who knows maybe with the ring it will feel real.

And you don’t mind it at all.

── .✦ Roronoa Zoro:

Zoro knew coming here was a mistake.

The restaurant is way too fancy for his taste, golden chandeliers, white tablecloths, expensive plates that look like they belong in a museum. The portions are tiny, the waiters have that I’m better than you attitude, and worst of all… Sanji recommended it.

You, however, are having a great time.

You sip your drink, smiling at the romantic ambiance, while Zoro sulks across from you, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“This place is nice” you hum.

Zoro scoffs “Tch. Feels like a prison.”

You roll your eyes, about to retort, when his fork suddenly slips off the table. With a sigh, Zoro pushes his chair back and kneels down to grab it.

And that’s when it happens.

A loud gasp echoes through the restaurant.

The soft clinking of silverware stops. Conversations halt. The waiter carrying a tray of wine nearly drops it.

Zoro freezes, fork in hand.

“…What the hell?” he mutters.

You glance around and immediately see the problem. The entire restaurant is staring at him, some people are covering their mouths, others are tearing up, and the woman at the table next to you whispers excitedly to her date “omg look, he’s proposing!”

They think he’s proposing...

Your lips twitch. Oh, this is gold.

Zoro must realize it too, because he slowly looks up at you, processing the situation. The restaurant waits with bated breath. You see the exact moment he decides to roll with it.

Still kneeling, he sighs dramatically and reaches for your hand instead of his fork.

“Guess there’s no backing out now” he says flatly.

A chorus of awws sweeps through the restaurant. Someone sniffles.

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. If Zoro’s gonna pull this, you might as well make him suffer.

So, with your most dramatic expression, you gasp, bringing a hand to your chest “Zoro! Is this—” You choke up for effect “Is this really happening?”

Zoro glares at you, silently daring you to push further.

You do.

You blink rapidly, pretending to fight back tears “I—I never thought this day would come!” You squeeze his hand, voice trembling “Ever since I first saw you, I knew—” You pause, just to let the anticipation build “that you were the love of my life!”

A woman two tables down bursts into tears.

Zoro’s jaw tightens. His ears are definitely red now. But he won’t let you win so easily.

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah… you know, it’s been real annoying, carrying this ring around for so long.”

Your eyes widen. Oh, he did NOT just—

The restaurant collectively gasps again. Even the chef peeks out from the kitchen.

Zoro still doesn’t have a ring, so the bastard reaches over, plucks a tiny onion ring off his plate, and slides it onto your finger.

“There,” he says, smirking “You happy now?”

You nearly choke on air.

The restaurant erupts. Cheers. Clapping. Someone throws flower petals. A waiter rushes forward with champagne.

You need to end this. Fast.

So, with all the enthusiasm of a dramatic soap opera heroine, you throw yourself into Zoro’s arms, hugging him tightly.

“YES! A MILLION TIMES YES!”

The place loses it. Some guy at the bar is sobbing. The waiter brings out a massive cake with Congratulations! written in fancy chocolate drizzle. The restaurant manager himself personally congratulates you.

You and Zoro finally lock eyes, both of you struggling to keep a straight face.

Still holding you, he leans down, voice low enough for only you to hear.

“You are so dead after this” he mutters.

You grin “Worth it.”

Zoro sighs, but there’s amusement in his expression. He still hasn’t let go of your waist, and for a second, the noise around you fades, the restaurant blurring into the background.

His thumb brushes against your hip.

“You really wanna sell this?” he murmurs.

You raise a brow “What are you—”

And then he kisses you.

It’s quick, barely more than a brush of lips, but it still shuts you up completely. Your breath catches as the warmth of him lingers, his grip firm and steady as if grounding himself.

Then he pulls back, smirking at your stunned expression “Figured we had to make it convincing.”

The crowd loses it again. Someone pops open a bottle of wine. The cheering is deafening.

Zoro slides back into his seat, reaching for his drink like nothing happened, while you just stare at him. Your face is burning, your heart racing.

Did he... did he really just...

“Oi,” he calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. He nods toward your plate “Eat. We scammed our way into this food, might as well enjoy it.”

You pick up your fork numbly, still processing.

Later that night, walking back to the Sunny, still slightly tipsy from the free champagne, Zoro shakes his head, chuckling.

“You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you still went along with it” you tease.

He gives you a sideways glance, smirking “Yeah, well… guess I’d propose to you eventually anyway.”

You trip.

Zoro catches you easily, steadying you with a firm grip, and when he helps you up, he doesn’t let go of your hand right away.

Your heart does something stupid.

“…You serious?” you murmur.

Zoro just smirks, squeezing your hand and giving you a quick peck on your lips before letting go.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see, idiot.”

── .✦ Sanji:

Sunlight spills over the ocean, turning the water into shimmering gold as the sea breeze carries the scent of freshly baked pastries. The café you and Sanji are at is charming, small round tables with white tablecloths, elegant teacups, and a dessert display so tempting even you had to stop and admire it before sitting down.

Sanji, as always, is in his element. He leans back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers, looking completely at ease as he watches the waves roll in. He’s been extra flirty today, not that it’s anything new, but there’s something almost mischievous about his smile as he rests his chin on his hand, eyes locked on you.

“You look stunning today, mon amour.”

You snort, sipping your drink “You’ve said that three times already.”

“And I’ll say it a hundred more if it makes you smile” he replies smoothly, winking.

You roll your eyes but can’t hide the way your lips twitch upward. Hopeless flirt.

A waiter suddenly approaches your table, setting down a small menu “Would you two be interested in our Eternal Love Special? It comes with a complimentary dessert for newly engaged couples.”

Sanji’s brows lift, and immediately, you see the dangerous glint in his eyes.

You raise a hand, ready to shut this down “Oh, we’re not—”

Sanji reaches across the table and gently takes your hand in his, cutting you off completely.

“Ma chérie” he sighs, looking at you with the softest, most heartfelt expression you’ve ever seen “I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do this.”

Then he quickly turns to the waiter “Thank you, I took it as a sign to finally do what I was planning for months now”

Your brain short-circuits.

Wait. WAIT.

The waiter gasps. The couple at the next table stops mid-bite. A hush falls over the café as all eyes turn to the two of you.

You know Sanji. You know this is fake. But the way he’s looking at you, the warmth in his eyes, the way his thumb gently strokes the back of your hand, it feels real.

You swallow hard “Sanji—”

He stands up, gracefully stepping around the table before lowering himself onto one knee. The sunlight catches his golden hair, framing him like something out of a damn romance novel.

“From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special,” he says, voice smooth as silk “Your laughter is my favorite melody, your kindness is my greatest treasure, and every day with you is sweeter than the finest dessert.”

Someone sniffs. You don’t dare look away, afraid your own face might betray you.

Sanji reaches into his pocket, and for a horrifying second, you think he might actually have a ring... He pulls out a thin silver napkin ring from the table setting.

The café erupts into cheers. Someone claps. A woman dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. The waiter looks about two seconds away from fainting.

Sanji takes your hand, slipping the napkin ring onto your finger with such tenderness that your heart physically aches.

“Tell me, my love,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but with an edge of something more “Will you make me the happiest man in the world?”

You could end this now. Laugh it off, tell everyone it’s fake, and move on.

…But where’s the fun in that?

You inhale sharply, pressing a hand to your chest like you just can’t believe this is happening “Sanji, I—” You let your voice waver for dramatic effect “Of course! Yes!”

The café erupts. Cheers, applause, a waiter brings out a fancy chocolate cake with “Congratulations, Lovebirds!” written in delicate script.

Sanji presses a lingering kiss to the back of your hand before rising to his feet. He leans in, his breath warm against your ear.

“You play dirty, sweetheart” he murmurs.

You smirk up at him “Right back at you.”

The two of you sit back down, and while Sanji smoothly dives into his slice of cake, you… you can’t stop staring at him. Your heart is still racing. He’s been teasing you for so long, but this felt different.

And maybe the little gleam in his eyes says he knows it too.

Sanji casually picks up his fork, cutting into his cake as if he hasn’t just dropped a bombshell in the middle of the café. But there’s something different about the way he looks at you now, a quiet intensity behind his smirk.

You, on the other hand, are trying your best to keep your composure, but your heart is still fluttering uncontrollably. That was not part of the act, you think, biting your lip.

“So,” you begin, trying to regain some semblance of control over your thoughts, “you think I’ll just say ‘yes’ to a napkin ring?”

Sanji grins like a cat who’s just gotten the cream “Only if you’re truly as smitten with me as I am with you,” he teases, his voice dripping with charm “Was that not the most romantic proposal you’ve ever heard?”

You blink at him. That damn smirk. It’s hard to keep a straight face when he’s so pleased with himself.

“Romantic?” You arch an eyebrow, playing along “More like cheesy, Sanji. I mean, come on... napkin ring? Really?”

He chuckles, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear “It’s not the ring that matters, my dear. It’s the gesture.” He winks, leaning back in his chair, looking completely smug now that the moment has passed “Besides, I’m sure I’ll get you a real one soon enough. Once I find the perfect one.”

You blink at him again, still processing how he just seamlessly went from a joke proposal to something that feels strangely serious. Did he mean it?

Before you can dwell on it too much, the waiter returns with another plate, this time with a much larger piece of cake.

Sanji’s eyes light up “Ah, my favorite!” He takes the plate and picks up his fork, but before taking a bite, he looks at you again, that same intensity in his gaze.

“So,” he says, his voice suddenly more quiet, more sincere “did you like it? The proposal, I mean. I know it was a little… unorthodox.”

You’re caught off guard by the seriousness of his tone. He’s not teasing you now, not putting on that flirty act he does so well. His gaze is soft, like he’s searching for your answer, his expression almost vulnerable.

You bite your lip, fighting back the heat creeping up your neck “I...” You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. You want to tease him, but there’s something there in his eyes “It was… unexpected” you finally say, your voice softening “But… sweet, I guess.”

Sanji’s lips curl into a grin again, but this time, it’s gentler, less playful and more genuine. “You know, you’re the only woman I’d do something this stupid for.” He leans closer, his voice dropping even lower, his breath warm against your ear “So, maybe... just maybe, you know... when the time is right, I’ll actually make it real.”

Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your throat. You can’t tell if he’s joking or if this is one of his moments of sincerity. But then, the way his hand brushes against yours as he pulls back from the table feels like something more.

You stare at him, and he meets your gaze, his blue eyes twinkling with something you can’t quite place.

Before you can say anything, Sanji’s finger gently taps the napkin ring on your finger, the little silver band now feeling strangely significant “Just wait,” he says softly, “the real proposal will be a thousand times more romantic. And you’ll be the one telling me yes.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought, knowing he’s both serious and playful, making you realize that, despite all the teasing and drama, he does mean it. And maybe, just maybe, you’re a little bit more excited about the idea than you want to admit.

“You better keep that promise, chef” you reply softly, your voice almost teasing, but with a genuine undercurrent that you both recognize.

Sanji leans back in his chair, clearly pleased with himself “I’ll hold you to it, mon amour. You’ll see. I’m a man of my word.”

And as the two of you continue eating, the quiet intimacy that lingers between you both speaks volumes. Even if the proposal was a joke, the feelings beneath it were anything but a joke.

── .✦ Portgas D. Ace:

The crew is in the midst of celebrating their latest victory, mugs of rum and plates of food scattered across the long table. Everyone is laughing and teasing each other, the air thick with camaraderie and joy. Ace is leaning against the railing, surrounded by his crew, his usual playful energy filling the space.

You’re off to the side, chatting quietly with Marco, enjoying the rare peace amidst the rowdy celebration.

“Looks like everyone’s having a good time” you say, smiling as you watch the crew’s antics.

“Yeah,” Marco replies, “they definitely need moments like this. It’s been a while since we’ve had a reason to really celebrate.” He glances at you, a soft smile on his lips.

Meanwhile, Ace is leaning over the table, listening to the crew, and you notice the mischievous glint in his eyes as he exchanges a few words with Thatch. The two of them laugh, and you can see Ace’s trademark grin forming.

Suddenly, someone’s voice rises above the others, slurring slightly from the alcohol “Hey, Ace!” he shouts, clearly a little tipsy “I dare you to do something! You’re always pulling pranks, it’s your turn!”

Ace smirks and looks over at them, his eyes flicking to the rest of the crew who eagerly start egging him on “What do you have in mind?” he asks, leaning in as if he’s genuinely curious.

The others grin at each other, clearly having had too many drinks “I dare you to propose to Y/N, right now!”

The crew erupts into laughter, clearly loving the idea. You’re still talking to Marco and don’t hear it, unaware of the dare.

You turn around, confused, just as Ace, with his usual confidence, strides over to you. His eyes lock onto yours, and his smirk widens, his posture already dramatic as he drops to one knee in front of you.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice loud and theatrical, “will you marry me?”

The entire crew gasps and then bursts into laughter. You freeze, completely caught off guard.

For a split second your heart skips a beat, but then you notice the glint in his eyes. He’s teasing. It’s the same playful look he always has when he’s messing with someone.

You swallow hard, trying to laugh it off “Ace, what are you—”

But before you can finish your sentence, Ace stands up quickly, his grin widening as he grabs your shoulder and laughs loudly “Haha, come on! I’m just kidding! You know me!”

The crew, still in fits of laughter, cheers him on, but your heart sinks. You feel embarrassed, and the sudden realization hits you hard. You knew it was just another one of his jokes but for some reason, this one stings more than the others. You’re left standing there, staring at him, feeling both foolish and hurt.

“Ace…” you start, your voice quiet and suddenly trembling with a mixture of anger and something deeper. You can’t put your finger on it, but it feels like your heart’s being pulled in two directions.

Ace notices the change in your tone and looks at you, the playful glint in his eyes dimming for a moment as if he’s unsure of what’s happening “Hey, come on. It was just for fun, right?” He chuckles, brushing it off, but there’s something in his voice now, a hint of unease that wasn’t there before.

You force a smile “Yeah, sure, just for fun” you say, but your voice cracks slightly. You quickly turn away from him, walking off toward the edge of the ship, away from the crew and the laughter. You don’t want to face anyone right now, not Ace, not anyone.

Ace calls after you, but you don’t look back. You can feel his gaze on your back, but you don’t know if you’re ready to face the playful tone that always comes with his jokes. You’re hurt, and you can’t tell if it’s because you really thought he was serious for a moment or because it felt like he didn’t take your feelings into account.

The sound of the crew’s laughter is still behind you, but it feels distant now. You rest your hands on the cold metal of the ship’s railing, staring out at the dark, endless sea, trying to breathe through the hurt.

“Hey,” Ace’s voice suddenly cuts through the night air. You hadn’t realized he was following you. His playful tone gone, replaced by something softer, maybe even regretful “I’m sorry if I upset you. I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head, not turning to face him “It’s fine, Ace. Just... just go back to the crew. I don’t want to make a scene.”

There’s a long silence, and you can feel him standing behind you, still close, but not daring to push further. You can hear the deep sigh he lets out.

“You know I mess around a lot, right?” Ace says quietly, after a beat “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Ace seems to sense your hesitation, and he steps a little closer.

“I was just having fun with the guys,” he continues, his voice low, almost apologetic now “I didn’t think it would upset you. I’m sorry. If you want to talk about it… I’m here.”

You take a deep breath, trying to push back the frustration that’s built up in you. You hate how vulnerable you feel, too exposed. But you can’t let him see that, not right now.

“I just need some space” you reply quietly.

There’s another long pause before you hear him step back and you finally allow yourself to breathe a little easier. Ace doesn’t push you any further. You hear his footsteps retreat, but you know he’s still watching you, waiting, just in case you need him.

You know Ace didn’t mean to hurt you. You know he’s always been like this reckless, playful, always laughing things off. But tonight, it felt different.

Why did it bother me so much?

You hear footsteps behind you again, slower this time, more hesitant. You sigh “Ace, I said I needed some space—”

“It’s not Ace.”

You turn and find Marco standing there, arms crossed.

“You okay?” he asks, but his sharp eyes tell you he already knows the answer.

You manage a small, tired smile “Do I look okay?”

Marco huffs a soft laugh “Not really.” He steps beside you, leaning against the railing. For a moment, the two of you just stand there in silence.

Finally, he speaks again “Ace is an idiot.”

You let out a surprised laugh, though it’s weaker than usual “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

Marco tilts his head slightly, watching you “But he’s not heartless” he continues “He cares about you more than he probably realizes. And right now, he’s sitting over there, looking like a kicked puppy because he knows he messed up.”

Your fingers tighten on the railing “I know he didn’t mean to hurt me, Marco. But…” You hesitate, feeling vulnerable “I guess it just stung more than I expected. He laughed it off like it was nothing.”

Marco hums in understanding “Because to him, it was just a joke. But to you… it wasn’t.”

You don’t reply, but you know he’s right. Even if you hadn’t admitted it to yourself before, a small part of you had wanted it to be real.

Marco pushes off the railing and pats your shoulder lightly “You don’t have to talk to him yet if you don’t want to. But if you do…” He glances toward the other side of the ship, where Ace is sitting on a barrel, staring down at his drink, barely touching it. His usual carefree energy is gone “He’s waiting.”

You hesitate. A part of you still wants to be mad. But another part, the part that cares too much, wants to hear what more he has to say.

With a deep breath, you push off the railing and make your way toward him.

Ace notices you immediately, his head snapping up, eyes widening slightly. He doesn’t grin this time, doesn’t make a joke. He just watches you cautiously, like he’s bracing himself.

You stop a few steps away “Hey.”

Ace exhales, setting his drink down “Hey...” He looks uncertain, which is rare for him “Can I...” He hesitates “Can I talk to you?”

You nod and sit down on the crate across from him. He looks relieved but still fidgety, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to figure out what to say.

After a long pause, he finally speaks “I didn’t think, okay?” His voice is quieter than usual, missing its usual cocky edge “I didn’t think about how it would feel for you. I was just messing around with the crew, and when they dared me, I just… went with it. I didn’t mean for it to be a joke at your expense.”

You cross your arms “Then why did you laugh it off like that?”

Ace winces slightly “Because… I panicked.”

That catches you off guard “Panicked?”

He lets out a slow breath and runs a hand through his messy black hair “Yeah. Because for a second, when I was kneeling there, looking at you, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore” He pauses, his voice dropping lower “And that scared the hell out of me.”

He looks at your confused face, and for once, there’s no teasing in his eyes. Just raw honesty.

“I mean…” He rubs his face, frustrated with himself “I mean that maybe it wasn’t just a joke to me, either.”

The world seems to tilt slightly. Your breath catches, and you stare at him, trying to process his words.

Ace sighs, leaning forward, resting his forearms on his knees “I don’t know how to say this the right way. I’ve never been good at this kind of thing. But you—” He exhales sharply “You matter to me. More than I probably let on. And when I saw how upset you were, I realized that I really, really don’t want to lose you.”

You swallow thickly, your emotions all tangled up “Ace…”

He leans back, giving you a small, hesitant smile “I won’t joke about something like that again. I swear. But…” He rubs the back of his neck “If—if I ever did propose… I’d want it to be real.”

For a long moment, you don’t speak. You’re still mad. Still hurt. But beneath all of that, there’s a warmth spreading through your chest, something dangerously close to hope.

Finally, you shake your head and stand up. Ace tenses, as if expecting you to walk away again.

Instead, you go closer. And before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his shirt and tug him down into a kiss.

Ace freezes for a second, caught completely off guard. But then he melts into it, his hands finding your waist, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. The kiss is slow, uncertain at first, but then it deepens, warm, real, full of everything you haven’t been able to put into words.

When you finally pull away, Ace blinks at you, completely dazed “...Whoa.”

You smirk, your heart still racing “No jokes this time?”

He grins, breathless “No jokes.”

You roll your eyes but smile anyway “Good.”

Ace watches you for a moment, then his grin softens into something more genuine “So… does this mean you forgive me?”

You pretend to think about it “Hmm. I dunno. Maybe you should actually try proposing for real and see how I feel.”

His eyes widen, and you laugh at the way he suddenly looks flustered. But the warmth in his expression tells you that maybe, just maybe, that day isn’t as far off as you once thought.

── .✦ Trafalgar D. Law:

The ballroom is suffocating in its elegance, gold chandeliers, velvet curtains, and nobles dressed in the finest silks. Conversations flow with laughter, political gossip, and expensive wine. You navigate the crowd effortlessly, your arm looped around Law’s as the two of you blend in among the guests.

This is just another mission.

Your goal this time is to gather intel on the underground auction happening later tonight. And to do so, you have to pretend to be a wealthy couple and gain access to informations. Tonight you are Law’s fiancée.

“You’re tense” Law murmurs beside you, barely moving his lips.

You glare up at him, keeping a pleasant smile for the guests “Maybe because I’m still processing how I went from ‘crewmate’ to ‘fake fiancée.’”

He hums “Would you rather be my wife?”

You elbow him discreetly, and he chuckles under his breath.

“Ah, you're Torao, right?” a nobleman approaches with a warm smile and glass in hand, but Law suddently snorts at the name already planning on getting revenge to however was supposed to arrange a fake name for him... you try your best to not laugh “And who is this stunning young woman?”

Before you can even open your mouth, Law speaks smoothly.

“My fiancée”

You freeze for just a fraction of a second, but you recover quickly, forcing a demure smile as the nobleman’s eyes widen in delight.

“Oh, my! I had no idea you were engaged! Congratulations!”

More nobles turn their attention toward you both, excited murmurs rippling through the crowd. You barely resist the urge to shoot Law a look, because you figured he’d introduce you as a partner or companion, but fiancée? That just complicate things.

You manage to slip away after a few more introdutions, excusing yourself to get a drink and some air. Meanwhile, Law stays behind, sipping his wine in silence.

That’s when an older noblewoman leans in conspiratorially.

“You know,” she hums, swirling her drink, “I couldn’t help but notice something peculiar.”

Law barely reacts “Oh?”

She grins “She’s not wearing a ring.”

His fingers tighten subtly around his glass.

Another noble nods “Yes, rather unusual for an engagement, don’t you think?”

A dozen responses flash through Law’s mind, he could say something like it’s being resized, or that you don’t like wearing jewelry. But instead, for reasons even he doesn’t fully understand, the words that come out are, “I have a ring.”

The noblewoman’s eyes sparkle “Oh? Then why isn’t she wearing it?”

Law exhales through his nose “I was planning to propose soon.”

The group of nobles collectively gasps.

“Tonight?!”

Law immediately regrets his words.

“Oh, how romantic!” one woman gushes “You must do it here!”

Law resists the urge to teleport himself out of this conversation, but when he turns, he sees you making your way back, completely oblivious to the trap he just walked into. And something shifts inside him, because in his pocket, there is a ring. Your exact size.

He never planned to use it. He doesn’t even fully understand why he bought it in the first place. Maybe it was impulse, or maybe it was something deeper, something he refuses to acknowledge.

But now he stands. The room falls silent.

You slow your steps, eyes flicking to him in confusion “What...”

And then he kneels.

Your heart stops.

The nobles erupt into cheers.

Law looks up at you as he pulls out the ring.

Your breath catches.

Why is he doing this? Why does he have that?

Law exhales, his voice quieter now, just for you.

“y/n,” he says, his fingers brushing against yours, “marry me.”

There’s no teasing in his tone. No playfulness. Just Law, holding your hand, holding a ring he never intended to actually reveal, and looking at you like he means every single word.

The entire ballroom is silent, every noble watching with excitement. Somewhere in the distance, someone murmurs about how romantic this is, but all you can hear is the rushing in your ears, the unsteady rhythm of your breathing... because Law is holding a ring. Your exact size. And for he looks like he actually means it.

Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

Law exhales softly, gaze unreadable. His fingers ghost over yours as he holds the ring between them, and you swear you feel a slight tremor.

“Uhm... say yes” he murmurs, voice too low for anyone else to hear.

Your breath catches “What?”

His fingers tighten around your hand, almost imperceptibly “Say yes...” he repeats, softer this time.

You swallow hard. You know this is a performance. Something must have happened while you weren't there and he's doing all this to keep up the cover and complete the mission. But something in the way he’s looking at you, so calm, so sure, makes your throat tighten.

You force yourself to move, to push away the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume you.

“…Yes.”

The second the word leaves your lips, the room erupts. Cheers, applause, laughters, as the nobles celebrate.

Law stands smoothly, still holding your hand, and in one fluid motion, he slides the ring onto your finger.

A perfect fit.

Your chest tightens.

Why do you have this? you want to ask. Why do you have my size? Why does this feel real?

But instead, you let him pull you closer, his fingers resting lightly against your waist as someone shouts “The kiss! You have to seal it with a kiss!”

Your stomach flips violently. You glance up at Law, expecting him to show hesitation, annoyance... anything.

But his expression remains unreadable.

He exhales quietly, as if resigning himself to what comes next. Then, in one smooth movement, he cups your face, his calloused fingers brushing against your jaw.

His lips press against yours as the world blurs.

It’s soft at first, gentle, the perfect display for an adoring fiancé. But then his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you a fraction closer, and something shifts.

The air between you crackles, the warmth of his body pressing into yours. Your fingers clutch at his suit, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

It doesn’t feel fake, not even for a second, and that breaks you.

When he finally pulls away, the crowd is ecstatic, clapping and cheering. You barely register them.

Law leans in, his forehead nearly brushing yours.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice just for you.

You’re not. Not even close. But you have to force a smirk, masking the confusion, the longing, the ache in your chest.

“You’re a better actor than I thought” you whisper, trying to sound teasing, but it comes out unsteady.

His lips twitch slightly in almost a smirk.

And then, just as he turns to lead you away, his voice drops to a whisper.

“Am I acting?”

Your breath catches.

But before you can even process his words, he’s already pulling you through the crowd, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Come on,” he says “We still have a mission to finish.”

And just like that, the moment is gone.

The ring on your finger feels heavier than it should, and now you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to take it off.

── .✦ Shanks:

The Red-Haired Pirates are celebrating their recent success, the air filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking mugs, and music. You and Shanks are at the center of it all, the crew’s favorite couple. You’ve been together for a while now, everyone around you knows how close you two are. The bond you share is evident, whether you’re laughing together, sharing a drink, or pulling off your signature “fake proposal” routine at taverns to get free food.

Today was no different. You’d pulled off yet another hilarious fake proposal at a local tavern with Shanks dramatically getting down on one knee and you playing the blushing fiancée, and everyone else had completely fallen for it. The whole crew had watched from the sidelines, laughing at the reaction of other people around. You and Shanks had left the tavern with free drinks and a standing ovation, and now you’re back on the ship, basking in the afterglow of your latest successful scam.

The crew is still laughing, recalling the events from earlier.

“That was too good,” Yasopp says, slapping his knee as he chuckles “I swear, you two are getting better at this with every try.”

“Yeah, honestly, I almost thought it was real” Benn Beckman adds, leaning back in his chair.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile “You guys are terrible” you tease, nudging Shanks playfully.

Shanks simply grins casually leaning against the railing of the ship as the crew continues to tease the two of you about your newer “engagement”. His eyes are full of mischief, the same spark you’ve always loved. But there’s something different tonight, they seem a little more serious, almost like he’s thinking about something far beyond the joke.

“You know...” Shanks starts, his voice quieter than usual, drawing your attention. The rest of the crew falls into a hushed silence, sensing something is about to shift “Maybe one day, we should do it for real.”

You blink, staring at him “What?” you ask, not sure if he’s still joking or if something else is going on.

Shanks smirks, but there’s a certain vulnerability in his gaze now that makes your heart skip a beat “I mean it. What would you say if I asked you for real one day? Like, if I asked you to marry me, what would you say?”

For a moment, everything around you goes still. The sounds of the crew’s laughter fade, and it’s just you and Shanks, standing there. You can see the sincerity in his eyes, something deeper than the usual playful teasing.

You feel a flutter in your chest as you meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. It’s clear he’s not messing around anymore.

“You really want to know?” you ask softly, your voice a little unsteady.

Shanks doesn’t break eye contact, his expression soft but steady “Yeah, I do.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. For a heartbeat, everything feels heavier... your emotions swirling as you take in the meaning behind his words. Then you smile, a warm, genuine smile. You take a deep breath, knowing what this means “Then ask me, and find out.”

Shanks’ lips curl into a gentle, tender smile, and for a moment, you think maybe he’s going to kiss you right then and there. But instead, he leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“I’ll make you notice right away when it’s for real,” he says, his words full of affection “You’ll be so surprised when I’ll do it, you won’t even know what hit you.”

You laugh softly, a mix of emotions rushing through you “I can’t wait...” you say, your voice light but with a hint of excitement.

Without another word, Shanks pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he presses his lips against yours in a slow, lingering kiss. You melt into it, the taste of his lips familiar and comforting, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

The crew is watching you two, stunned into silence at first, but then the cheers start.

“Get a room!” Lucky Roux shouts with a laugh, and the rest of the crew joins in, clapping.

You pull back slightly, your forehead resting against Shanks’ as you both smile at the crew’s reaction. He gives you a playful wink, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a yes” he says softly, his grin full of mischief again.

“Yeah,” you reply with a smile, still feeling the warmth of his kiss on your lips “I kinda spoilered you my answer.”

The crew continues to laugh and tease, but you and Shanks know this moment is real. It might not have been an official proposal yet, but you both understand that when the time is right, he’ll ask, and you’ll say yes. For now, though, you’ll just enjoy this moment with him, the love between you two shining brighter than anything else.

And as the crew celebrates, you and Shanks share another kiss, a promise of what’s to come.

Shanks barely pulls away from your lips before a familiar glint of mischief sparks in his eyes. The crew is still laughing and whistling, throwing jabs about how disgustingly in love the two of you are, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head.

You know that look.

Before you can react, Shanks suddenly drops to one knee again, right there on the deck, holding out his empty hand like he’s presenting a ring.

“Alright, alright! Since the moment is so perfect... Y/N, will you make me the happiest pirate alive and marry me? For real this time?” His voice is exaggerated, his expression overly dramatic as he bats his lashes up at you.

The crew erupts, laughing and cheering like this is the best show they’ve ever seen. Some of them start slamming their mugs, chanting, “SAY YES! SAY YES!” Lucky Roux even tosses a handful of peanuts in the air like they’re flower petals.

Shanks is still kneeling, hand outstretched “Well?” he asks, tilting his head with a teasing grin “Are you gonna break my heart in front of my beloved crew, Y/N?”

You let out a dramatic sigh and step closer, leaning down just enough to flick his forehead.

The exaggerated thunk makes the crew howl with laughter.

Shanks rocks back like you’ve physically struck him, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded “Rejected… just like that?” he gasps, looking up at you with the most pathetic pout you’ve ever seen “You didn’t even consider it? Not even for a second?”

You shake your head, grinning “Oh, shut up. If I say yes to every proposal of yours, we’d be married a hundred times over by now. I can’t accept two in just one day.”

The crew explodes into laughter again, slamming their mugs together, completely losing it over the ridiculousness of it all.

“I think this is the first time Shanks has ever been turned down,” Yasopp says, wiping tears from his eyes “Somebody write this down, it’s history in the making!”

Shanks, still on one knee, sighs dramatically before looking up at you with a lopsided grin “Guess I’ll just have to try again some other day”

There’s something in the way he says it, something in the way his gaze lingers on yours, that makes your chest tighten.

And then, without warning, he rises to his feet and takes your hand.

You raise an eyebrow, confused, but he just smiles as he pulls you in closer “What are you—?”

“Dancing” he answers simply.

There’s no music playing, just the sound of the crew’s laughter and the gentle crash of the waves against the ship. But that doesn’t stop him.

Shanks starts to sway, leading you effortlessly into a slow dance, like the two of you are at some grand ballroom instead of the deck of a pirate ship, surrounded by a bunch of rowdy, drunken idiots.

The crew quiets slightly, watching in amusement. But then you hear Yasopp groan “Oh, come on. Really?”

“Oi, we’re in the middle of a celebration, not a honeymoon!” someone else calls out.

“Get a room, this time for real!” Lucky Roux laughs.

But you barely hear them.

Because you’re looking at Shanks, and he’s looking at you.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter that there’s no music, or that your idiot pirate family is teasing you both in the background. It doesn’t matter that this started as a joke, or that moments ago, he was on one knee in the most ridiculous, over-the-top fake proposal.

Because right now, the way he’s holding you, one hand in yours, the other resting on your waist, feels so natural. So right.

You let yourself melt into him, following his lead as the two of you continue to sway in the middle of the chaos.

“You’re ridiculous” you murmur, but your voice is soft, affectionate.

Shanks smirks “And yet, you’re still here.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head “Yeah,” you whisper “I am.”

His grip on you tightens just slightly, and his expression softens “Perfect.”

Then, grinning, Shanks playfully lowers you backward while holding you, like in a dramatic dance move. Catching you completely off guard. You gasp, clutching at his coat, and the crew loses their minds.

“ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Yasopp groans “I CAN’T TAKE THIS ANYMORE! If you're not going into a room then I am!”

The crew bursts into laughter, some covering their eyes, others raising their drinks in amusement.

Shanks, still grinning like a fool, pulls you back up and presses a quick kiss to your forehead.

“You really are the love of my life, y’know that?” he murmurs.

Your heart skips a beat.

You smile, reaching up to brush a few strands of red hair away from his face “Yeah,” you whisper “I know.”

And as the crew continues their antics around you, you realize that this is the best moment of your life.

[saved-fanfiction]

Summary: Smoker's secret kink is finally out in the open. When you tell him you’ll go along with it, all bets are off. ~1.8k words. CW: Afab reader w/ gendered pet names, e.g. “good girl,” daddy kink, spanking, P in V.

WARNING: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

*** If you don’t like this kink, seriously, do not read this!!! You will be disturbed… and neither of us want that. So begone, please. For those of you who are down for the nastiness, keep reading because you’re in for a treat. Mildly edited. Also, shoutout to whoever requested this!

White-hot pain exploded on impact—a huge, rough hand spanked your ass so hard that your body rocked forward and you let out a yelp. It left a bright red handprint, searing pain coursing through your body. For a few moments, the pain was all that you were aware of. It enveloped your senses, forced you to be ultra-present, and reminded you that you were not in control. You were bent over Smoker’s thighs with your bare ass exposed and your skirt riding up around your waist.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew his hand was poised to land another. Sure enough, he landed a whopping smack on your supple skin just seconds later. Another yelp of pain.

The adrenaline from his spanks would normally make you feel like you were in fight or flight mode, but that wasn’t the case. You were so aroused that you were making a mess of yourself, oozing slick onto your upper thighs so they glistened. Underneath of you, you could feel something hard—it was his cock, of course.

A third resounding slap echoed in the room as Smoker landed another blow. “Say it.”

You were too lost in the pain and arousal to understand what he meant by that. It must have been something from a few minutes ago, but you were clueless and too caught up in the all-encompassing feeling of pain.

He grabbed a handful of the skirt that was pooling around your waist and held it taught. Fantastic, you thought. Another thing that’s going to hurt. Smoker yanked the fabric up, eliciting an inadvertent, guttural noise from you. It was almost like you got the wind knocked out of you.

He practically growled, obviously impatient. “Say what you are.” His hand raised, getting ready to wallop you again if you didn’t produce an answer within seconds. You remembered what he wanted.

“A bad girl,” you whined and braced yourself for the impact of the fourth spank. It came, excruciating. Those five-star handprints were going to leave a bruise. “I’m a bad girl.”

Smoker yanked on the fabric around your waist once more, evidently unsatisfied with your response. His voice glowered and rasped from above. A cigar, or two, or three (you couldn’t remember) puffed away, filling the room with a hazy veil of smoke.

“And what happens to bad girls?”

“Y-you fix them,” you choked the words out, wincing from the last harsh blow to your ass. No matter how many times Smoker spanked you, you’d still get off on it. Something about being handled so crassly and dominantly made you feel like you were on fire. You’d do anything he said at this point. He’d been neglecting your sensitive areas the whole time, only paying attention to your ass, and you were starting to get desperate.

Sure, the roleplay was a blast, but you wanted his cock in you as soon as possible. The teasing was agonizing.

One last smack and Smoker finally did what you were hoping for, the first step towards him fucking you senseless. His fingers came to rest on your inflamed and hot core.

“So wet for me.” He rasped, low and gravelly. His voice was slightly obstructed by the cigars, and it made his voice sound huskier. “Such a bad girl today, don’t you want to apologize? Say sorry and I’ll make it all better.”

What had you done today that was so bad? Nothing in particular. But that didn’t matter in the slightest.

“S-sorry daddy,” you whined, playing into the fantasy as much as you could. You knew he would eat it up.

Smoker was initially weary about telling you he liked this sort of thing. You hadn’t been seeing each other for too long and he wasn’t sure how to navigate the situation—if you didn’t like the kink, would you be totally turned off by him? He was worried that it would change something between you two, so he kept it a secret for a while. He really didn't want to make you uncomfortable. When the opportunity presented itself, he was awkward and gruff when he talked to you about it, but you were surprised.

When you told him you were down for it, down for calling him 'daddy' as much as he wanted, his jaw dropped. He didn't anticipate you to be this eager. Now, it was no holds barred.

You leaned into it as much as you could, knowing that the more you played it up the better the sex would be. Something about this dynamic revved Smoker up like nothing else, so of course you were going to play along. You liked to see him get as riled up as possible.

“Sorry I was such a bad girl, I didn’t mean to, daddy.” Every time you called him that, it made his cock jump. He could only hear that word so much before he would devour every last ounce of pleasure in your body and ravage the ever-living fuck out of you. And obviously, that was the goal here.

Smoker rubbed your lips up and down with his rough fingers and finally, finally inserted one. “Mmmm, there we go. Need me to fix you up.” He purred, watching your back arch from the contact that you’d been anticipating with bated breath.

“Feels good,” you panted.

“I know it does. Do you just want my fingers, or do you want more? Only good girls get more than that.” He condescended and your walls clenched around his fingers. Smoker knew how much you liked being talked down to like that, how sick and twisted you were with lust only for him.

“I-I want more, please. I’ll be so good for you. Make me feel good, please.”

Smoker's voice was strained when he responded. He was about to lose control. “You promise? You’ll be a good girl for me? Want me to slide my cock into you and fuck you like a good girl? You want to be nasty for daddy?” His cadence and tone told you all you needed to know—he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him, and he was at a breaking point.

“Please,” you pleaded as he pulled the fistful of your skirt tighter and shoved his finger deeper. “Wanna be so good for you. Please.”

Smoker groaned and maneuvered you, flipping you onto the bed. He brought himself between your legs and got ready to fuck you in missionary. Pulling his cock out of his pants and stroking it lazily for a few seconds, he stared at your bare and wet cunt on display.

“You want to be fucked by daddy’s cock? Tell me how badly you want it, baby. Good girls beg for it.”

You begged and pleaded while you watched the milky white pearls of precum seep out of his slit and begin their descent downwards to his pumping fingers.

"I-I want you cock, please. Want you to make me feel good with it. Please, daddy."

While you entreated and pouted, you batted your eyelashes for good measure. Each time you called him daddy, his heart beat faster.

Finally, Smoker began to push his girthy cock into your folds, inch by inch. You’d never get used to how thick he was. It felt great to be stretched out like this, to be so full.

Now you could see him clearly—one cigar was perched in his mouth and his white hair was ruffled. Even the smell of that cigar couldn't bother you when Smoker's cock was buried inside. That's all that mattered.

He bottomed out with a groan. “Fuuuuhhhcccckkk. Feel how deep I am? You’re taking it all for me, pretty girl.”

At his words, he could feel your walls constrict and pulse around his cock. Smoker started to grind and roll his hips into yours, producing pleasure at rapid speed. He brought his face closer to yours and the smokey haze distorted your vision.

“You like how it feels when daddy shoves his cock in you? You like being my cocksleeve?”

You moaned out a barely understandable “yes, daddy” and he kept going. The more worked up he got, the filthier things he said.

“Want daddy to rub on your clit? Want daddy to rub it till you cream?”

When you managed to nod and lock eyes with him, he brought his thumb to your sensitive spot and started to draw circles around it, making your hips buck and jerk.

“D-daddy, fuck, feels so good, fuck.”

He was grunting and groaning between each frenzied thrust. He could feel it—you were getting closer to orgasm. He turned it up a notch, hoping that you’d cum on his cock like you always did.

“You always make my cock feel good, sweetheart.”

Smoker pressed his thumb on your clit and started to thrust slowly now, leaning his weight down and over you. You were almost out of breath, so fucked-out that you couldn’t think straight.

When lust piloted Smoker's mind, his eyes looked scary and crazed. He grinded and dragged his cock in your cunt feverishly. Your muscles tensed with each pass of his tip and shaft over your hot and gooey spot, bringing you closer to climax.

Your eyes were starting to roll back in your head.

“That’s it. Cum on my cock, baby. Wanna feel you cum for me.”

He thrusted hard enough to elicit another whine. “D-d-fuckkk—” you gasped, trying to force the words out but it felt like your mouth was full of cotton. You couldn’t do anything else except lay there and get fucked. “D-d-daddy, f-fuck.”

“Good girls cum when they’re told to. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Smoker’s words were accompanied by a particularly aggressive push of his thumb on your clit and it sent your over the edge.

During your orgasm, the whole time you spasmed and writhed under him, you called him “daddy.” This was what he had been waiting for—seeing you fall apart on his cock and call him that dirty and depraved word over and over again—daddy.

Smoker fucked you through your orgasm and then made you suck him off until he came down your throat. He ran his mouth while you gave him head, but he was so lost in pleasure that he could barely speak. When his cum disappeared down your throat and your hands were dripping with your own spit, he was satisfied.

Afterwards he kissed you sweetly and cleaned you up, blushing. You had never seen him blush before you started indulging in this kink of his. It was cute and becoming.

Smoker did anything you wanted after you let him fuck you like that. The fact that you were willing to play into this intense fantasy tickled him—no point in being ashamed of it anymore when you were just as enthusiastic as him, and fuck, the sex was so good it was crazy.

Afterwards, you often thought that you should be a ‘bad girl’ more often (whatever that meant).

sheesh! 🥵🥵🥴 that’s all for this one. if u made it this far and are into this shit, let me shake ur hand because i love it too.

here’s my masterlist and my october posting schedule.

finally, trick or treat? (both tumblr links)

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z's masterlist & navigation page

welcome to my safe space! masterlist below~ requests are closed!

come have a sweet treat with me! some bubble tea, some dessert, or maybe some smut? i promise my fics are nasty (✿˘ω˘)˘ε˘˶ )

see my post on requests, rules, & tags, as well as my kofi!

my masterlist

here are links to all of my fics. 99% of them are NSFW - i've designated which are SFW with a 🤍 - my personal faves have a ⭐!

special event links

kinktober '24 masterlist

holiday event '24 masterlist

RORONOA ZORO (o˘◡˘o)

PORTGAS D. ACE ⸜( ´ ꒳ ` )⸝

SANJI (*ﾉωﾉ)

MONKEY D. LUFFY

Monster Trio on the Phone

Monster Trio & mirror sex

Monster Trio & thigh riding

Monster Trio & when they cum too early

When they're drunk 🤍

Kinktober '24 pieces:

Mutual masturbation

Law x Luffy x Reader threesome

Luffy and aphrodisiacs

TRAFALGAR LAW

Law & the reader's first time

Law & Ace During Phone Sex

One Piece Men and Their Kinks

How One Piece men use your panties & what they do when they get caught

Law & thigh riding

When they cum too early

Law's happy trail drabble

When they're drunk 🤍

Kinktober '24 pieces:

Breeding with Law

Law x Luffy x reader threesome

Degradation

Fluffy/romantic stuff (teeny tiny bit of smut here)

SABO (coming soon)...

OTHER / ASKS

SFW/NSFW Headcanons for Paulie

Mean croc w/devil fruit powers

Croc in prone bone

Croc devil fruit powers

Crocodile Christmas present one-shot

୨⎯ 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕖 ⎯୧

i go by z

i'm 25

i use she/her/hers pronouns

i'm a taurus ☀ pisces ☾ leo rising

i guess i'm not really shy anymore since i've been writing since august and truly going ham with it. but i am gonna keep the tagline because it's simply too late to change it :p

now sit back, relax, and read some smut with me! 🤍🤍

all of my dividers/banners are from @cafekitsune (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ but for my holiday event, all of the dividers used will be from @issysh3ll ~

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♡ one piece masterlists ♡

total works: 58

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- masterlist 1 (male characters)

- masterlist 2 (female characters)

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multicharacter smut drabbles:

pussy fiends

ranking the strawhats in bed

titles they prefer in the bedroom

rug munchers

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Recent Works:

Realising They're in Love (Multiple Characters)

when he realises he's in love with you

posted: 30/09/24

spanking (multiple characters)

your man likes to spank you

posted: 02/10/24

2k followers special

randomised smut alphabet headcanons

posted: 07/10/24

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non one piece masterlist: here (jjk & haikyuu)

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