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shy-writer-999 · 1 day ago

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How many dreams to say "I love you?" (ii)

Summary: Zoro can’t stop dreaming about you, his best friend and crewmate. When his dreams start to wander from themes of romance and tenderness, he finds himself splitting at the seams. How long can he keep up this balance of night and day before he starts to go crazy?

Part 2 of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly smut / PWP! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Poor, pervy Zoro. Non-consensual voyeurism, masturbation, toys, kissing. NSFW content - minors stay away!

Part 2: A double life is unsustainable.

As much as Zoro told himself that he learned his lesson—don’t eavesdrop on conversations that are clearly not meant for your ears—the dreams about you didn’t stop.

Days went by and he could find no reprieve from the phantom version of you at night. Torture wasn’t the word for it. Agony, more like. He was in agony. Every night.

While the swordsman affirmed to himself that the dreams were a non-issue, and that they’d inevitably stop soon, you were rapidly starting to infect every single facet of his life.

This duality was maddening—at night, he’d answer to a fantasy world with you, where you treated him like some precious thing, called him ‘baby�� or ‘honey,’ and kissed him. But during the day you were his crewmate, friend, and nothing else. He’d smile at you like usual, sit by you at dinner, and tell himself that nothing changed.

This was a half-truth. The only thing that had changed was Zoro. You were behaving typically, maybe a bit quieter than usual, but he told himself that he was overthinking it.

The issue was that you wouldn’t leave him alone at night, and each of your sickeningly heart-melting smiles during the day was making his heart do that twisting thing. He couldn’t stand it.

Zoro didn’t know why his brain wouldn’t abandon this fixation with you—it had almost been a week; how much longer would this keep up? How many more tender moments would he share with you at night before he went insane during the day? If he got to a breaking point, what would fix it?

The dreams were festering inside of him. Confounding this effect was that the quality of sleep he was getting was atrocious. It’s like he wasn’t able to rest properly at night because the dreams were so concerningly lucid—he felt like he almost wasn’t dreaming at all, just living in an alternate reality, a reality turned upside down, where you loved him and smothered him in affection. A reality where he liked that.

Zoro had no one to confide in about his troubles—you were the person who he was the most emotionally close to. If he could have told you, he would have. But he was worried that it would change something. What would blurting out his dreams and baring these hidden thoughts accomplish, other than make you uncomfortable?

If he did that, you may get the wrong idea. He wasn’t trying to come onto you, he wasn’t in love with you, didn’t have feelings for you, etc. Zoro didn’t think he was capable of romantic love, it just wasn’t in the picture for him and never would be. But that wasn’t the issue here, he told himself. In Zoro’s mind, the problem was that he was being tormented by you at night and couldn’t help it. He was at a loss for what to do.

You were one of the highlights of his days, even before the dreams started. Now he could feel himself, more than ever, looking forward to those moments and latching onto them during the day. He harbored the suspicion that his brain would memorize your face more each time. The dream version of you kept getting more lifelike, more brilliant, more real. It was uncanny.

After the first three nights, Zoro started to brace himself. He knew what was coming when he fell asleep. He knew you’d be there waiting for him in some new scenario.

DREAMS 5, 6, & 7: “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

The fifth dream Zoro had about you was one where you held his hand (literally, just you holding his hand, nothing else). Your hand was warm and soft—it felt like it was made for him, like you were made for him. You ran your thumb across his skin and squeezed his hand through your intertwined fingers.

It was a short dream. When he woke up, he could still feel your hand on his. If he kept his eyes closed, if he stayed still, he could feel your fingers, your weight, maybe even your breath against his neck…

When he woke up, he was befuddled. Seeing you on deck the following morning, he glanced down at your hands. Would they feel the same as they did in his dream?

The next night, in the sixth dream, you studied his face quizzically.

“What’s wrong babe? You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your eyes explored his face imploringly.

He said something in response. He couldn’t remember what it was, and it was of no consequence. After you studied his face more, you remarked, “Zoro, you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He flushed even in his sleep and woke up moments later to a quicker heartbeat than was normal. This was seriously starting to concern him. As mundane as these sequences were, they were abnormal and confusing.

Were these dreams some subconscious manifestation of a nascent health problem? Or was he not training hard enough? Perhaps this was some form of self-performed punishment for being so distracted by your presence? Maybe he needed to double down on the stoicism and the ascetism.

The seventh dream was also mundane. You were wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of his sweatpants; you kissed him and told him he smelled good. He had seen you wear his hoodies before, in real life. You always had an excuse (“mine are all in the washing machine, can I wear some of yours?) and he always looked at you more than normal.

There was something about you in his clothes that stirred him inside. He didn’t know what was up with that. Something squeezed inside of him at the sight of your face peeking out of his hoodies, your limbs filling up his shirts and sweats; he couldn’t put his finger on it.

The morning after the hoodie and sweatpants dream, Zoro woke up perplexed. His dreams, in the wake of the conversation he overheard, stayed relatively romantic. They weren’t straying from themes of tenderness and endearment (well, except that first dream, the shower sex one).

The romance is what baffled him the most—he had never looked at anyone with romantic intentions before, so why was his brain throwing it at him? Why you, in particular? It was mystifying, suffocating, and excruciating.

There were floodgates inside of him, pooled up dams of emotion, burgeoning romance, desires and fears, and your conversation with Nami sent a shockwave through those walls. They began to crumble, and new cracks showed every night.

Zoro tried not to worry, but he had an understanding that this odd trend of (what was it at this point?) six nights consumed by you was only sustainable so far as the dreams stayed this way—tender and, above everything, mundane.

He was a regimented man. He stuck to a clear and concise schedule, as far as waking up, feeding himself, working out, etc. But the dreams threw a wrench in his daily routine. The negligent quality of sleep he was getting, even after only six days, was starting to have quite the effect on him.

He was barely keeping it together by the six-day mark, dark circles deepening into sunken rings under his eyes. He concluded that he couldn’t handle anything farther than these dreams of kisses and cuddles. If the dreams changed—if they got explicit, he told himself—then he’d start to really lose it.

Emotional turmoil be damned, he could retain a sense of normalcy as long as his waking hours went on as usual and nothing else changed. He may be exhausted, but he could cope. He hoped the dreams would fade into absurdity, cease, and leave him the hell alone.

This was a self-deluding hope.

DREAM 8: Breaking point

The next night, Zoro dreamed that he was walking around the ship aimlessly. He did a lap around the deck, meandered lazily through the galley, and checked the crow’s nest. It seemed like the whole thing was empty. Where was everyone?

He sauntered to check out the sleeping quarters. All the doors were open, the lights were off, and the cabins were empty, except yours. Your door was ajar and the light was on—he felt an overwhelming sense of curiosity. As Zoro walked towards your door, time seemed to alter. He moved in slow motion, laser-focused on your cabin, approaching slowly with bated breath.

As he got closer, he started to hear something.

It was a mix of sounds. There was a wet sort of clacking sound, first, and when he got closer to your door, he also heard faint gasps and gentle moans. His heart beat faster. He reached the door—it was only a couple inches open. He knew way lay ahead.

The sounds were getting louder. He leaned in, staring through the miniscule gap between the door and doorframe, to see what was happening. His hand was poised on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

When Zoro saw what was happening inside, he froze.

You were lying on your bed naked, thighs spread, propped up on your pillows. Your face was contorted into an expression of bliss, mouth agape just slightly, brows pinched together, eyes closed. His gaze travelled down to fix on your breasts, a perfect pair in his opinion. But your arms looked like they were moving, so his gaze trailed down farther. He saw clearly now that you were touching yourself.

You were moving one finger very slowly in and out of yourself; your sensitive spots were red and inflamed, juices seeping out and covering your thighs and hand. He listened to your labored breathing and heard the messy sounds echo through the room.

When you stuffed another finger in yourself, he heard you murmur something, but he couldn’t quite make out what you said. He leaned closer, his proximity to the door threatened to push it open.

You let the sound out again. He heard it this time.

“Zoro.”

Your moan was quiet and needy. He was mesmerized—you moaned his name again and moved your fingers faster. Your pitch increased, your body tensed up, you were so wet that arousal was pooling beneath you, saturating and staining the sheets.

He thought you were about to orgasm when you stopped suddenly, drawing your fingers out of yourself with a gasp.

Reaching to the side, you picked something up. Zoro’s brain registered it with a considerable lag—that was a vibrator. That was your vibrator. He saw it once on accident, when he offered to grab some of your laundry and put it in with his load.

That must have been months ago. When he walked into your room and looked for your hamper, the vibrator caught his eye, sitting on your bed as plain as day. You had forgotten that it was there. He found himself blushing and pretended like he hadn’t seen it. But now it made an appearance in his dream—how sick and twisted.

You pressed the toy into your entrance, pressing it inside yourself with it for a few moments before you pulled it out again. Every thrust of your wrist was coupled with a keen of his name.

The vibrator was dripping wet. A string of your arousal connected the tip of the vibrator to your core and his eyes followed as you brought the toy to your clit. Pressing a button, the vibrator sprung to life, filling the room with a low whirring and pulsing sound. You whined his name again and pushed the vibrator back and forth on your sensitive nub, toes curling in pleasure. Your other hand crept down and snuck a finger back into yourself.

Zoro was hypnotized by the sight of you getting off with both your vibrator and fingers, evidently touching yourself to the thought of him. Your moans got louder again, along with the obscene sounds emanating from down there. He could feel his erection. He was painfully hard.

You started to writhe and squirm.

“Zoro, fuck,” you mewled, tone pathetic and desperate. “Fuuuucccck me, Zoro, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your thighs started to shake.

It seemed like you were about to cum. He wanted you to cum, wanted to see you cum from fucking yourself with your fingers and toy to the thought of him—but right when you started moaning the loudest, right when you were one good pulse away from screaming his name, Zoro woke up. Of course.

Upon opening his eyes, he was immeasurably frustrated. Any time that these dreams, sexual or not, seemed like they were coming to a climax, he’d always wake up. It was like his brain was telling him to go fuck himself. And he was about to.

He couldn’t take it anymore, it was like his mind was playing games, like it was edging him or trying to piss him off. He was rock hard, about to cry from frustration, wishing more than anything that he could just have you, but knowing that would and should never happen.

Zoro had been telling himself that the dreams were just an aberration, a mistake, that he could forget about them during the day because they only were a nuisance at night, and nothing really happened in them that would impact his day in any meaningful way. But the narrative of the dreams not impacting his day didn’t hold up when he started to fist his cock while thinking about you.

He was forced to face the facts—the dreams were getting worse to the point where they started to bleed into his waking hours.

The morning after Zoro dreamed about you masturbating, he had to step away. Seeing you walk around the deck, interacting with you and watching you walk away… it was too much.

He went to the bathroom, locked the door, and palmed his growing erection until he couldn’t hold back anymore. Unzipping his pants and sneaking a hand into his underwear, he started to touch himself.

Maybe it had just been too long since he orgasmed (or even touched a woman). Sure, that’s what all of this was. His brain was grasping for straws because he was too repressed, right? You were there in front of him every day, so his brain had to make do—this was just a matter of proximity, nothing more. This is what Zoro coddled himself with, soothing his worries for a few moments. It had just been too long.

While he squeezed and stroked his aching length, he could barely keep in the feral grunts and groans threatening to leave his mouth. He bit his lip. Every time his fist grazed his angry, leaking tip, his cock twitched. It felt so good, but it would feel even better, if only…

At first, he tried to not think about you while doing it. He felt guilty enough as it was, having explicit dreams about his closest friend. But when his hand was wrapped around his shaft and precum trickled down his fingers in clear rivulets, the image of you touching yourself seared in his brain, unrelenting and arousing.

“Zoro.”

His name had sounded otherworldly when it parted your lips, coated in tones of lust and desperation. Just like the dreamscape he entered every night, composed of only thoughts, his thoughts in this moment could stay internalized too, couldn’t they? Kept private? This could be a one-time thing, hell, maybe it would make the dreams and nagging thoughts go away altogether. It had been too long, after all. Against his better judgment, the swordsman indulged. Just this once.

Scattered scenes flashed through Zoro’s mind the instant he decided to let his thoughts wander. All of it thundered at once like a maelstrom.

First, the look of your eyes, glossy, rolling back in your head in ecstasy. Then, the image of him shoving his cock in your wet mouth and watching you choke on it. The feeling of scissoring his fingers inside of you, of pulling your hair, of listening to your whimpers while he wrenched orgasms from you, pushing his fingers into your mouth while you sucked on them and made eye contact with him, watching your body writhe and writhe and writhe… every morsel and droplet of your envisioned pleasure fueled the force that was Zoro’s fist on his cock.

It would be hot and sloppy. Filthy.

You’d tell him to “keep going,” you’d dig your fingernails into his biceps, drool from how good it felt, swallow up his inches like nothing—he revered you, craved you, and worshipped you. He needed all of you. Wanted to smell you, taste you, hear you, and have you. He was getting carried away.

What if you walked into the bathroom right now? The door was locked, obviously, but the mental image of you stumbling across him like this gave him some sort of nasty thrill. If only you approached him, sunk to your knees and opened your mouth, petted him and praised him—

When the swordsman came all over his hands, he felt vile. He felt like a hypocrite.

He always called Sanji a pervert and derided him for his lack of control around women, and now here Zoro was, getting off on a dream he had about his own friend and crewmate. And what’s worse is that he didn’t look away in the dream when he saw you touching yourself. He didn’t even try. (To be fair, it’s not like he had control over what he dreamed about, nor could he control what he did in them, but that was a nonfactor to him.)

Zoro felt like shit.

The next time you talked to him, he turned crimson. He seemed distracted. He had been working out more than usual, so you told yourself it was the post-workout glow. You’d never seen him blush a day in your life, but sure enough, it was creeping up his neck and slowly starting to take over his cheeks.

He tried to forget his trip to the bathroom, but your pretty face made his heart thump and his stomach turn. He tried to forget the mental images his brain conjured up in his rabid state of desire. It was futile. He felt like he was going to be sick.

In your brief conversation after dinner the same day, you asked Zoro if he’d grab a drink with you. “It’s been a while,” you smiled at him, same as ever. “Let’s catch up in the next couple days over some sake. Deal?”

He hesitantly agreed. He missed you—the real you, not the dream version of you. When he said yes, you beamed at him, and his mouth went dry. He needed to get a grip and figure out what the fuck his problem was.

Zoro gave up on talking to you about the conversation he eavesdropped on over a week ago. He felt like he missed his opportunity (which is arguable) and, more than that, he felt like he wouldn’t know how to approach that conversation. What would he say at this point? “Hey, I’ve been having vivid dreams about you and I’m going fucking crazy?”

No. So, he kept it inside. He figured that he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Would he ever admit that he heard the conversation? He wondered about this. Maybe he’d never fess up to it. Maybe he’d keep it to himself, internalize once again. But he was quickly learning that when he tried to stuff these huge emotions back inside of him, they got bigger, louder, more unruly. It was like psychological warfare, except the assailant was his brain.

At this point, the dreams felt all-consuming. He’d get so wrapped up in them at night that he felt like he was in a daze during the day. Perhaps he was being dramatic, or perhaps his brain was desperately struggling to regulate a whopping load of emotions he had never encountered before, or rather, that he had never let himself acknowledge before.

He worried that you could tell something was off with him. You could.

Later, you asked, “Hey Zoro, you doing ok?”

He stuttered out a response, flustered by your presence, falling apart in seconds. It was very unlike him. “Wha—? H-hey, uh, yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just checking on you. You’ve been a bit spacey recently.” Your expression was one of concern. He seemed off, not to mention those dark circles of his. Was he getting sick? Was the insomnia coming back?

Upon hearing your words, it was like a lightning bolt hit Zoro. “You’ve been a bit spacey recently.”

What an insane coincidence. You said those very words to him in a dream a few nights ago, after which you complimented his eyes. He froze for a second, then tried to play off his shock with a yawn.

“I feel fine.” He shrugged. It wasn’t convincing in the slightest. “Just haven’t been sleeping the best.”

The paranoia was coming—did you know that he was dreaming about you? Had he been acting weird? Could you tell that he was thinking about you every moment of the day? God forbid, were you starting to form the misconception that he liked you in some romantic or erotic way? Fuck. This was getting ridiculous. Get a grip, man, he told himself.

You tried to ignore how odd he was acting. If he said he was fine, then he was fine.

He tried to convince himself that he was fine. He tried to wait it out and see that his attempt at convincing himself was effective.

It was not.

DREAM 9: A shocking revelation

Zoro’s dream the following night was delightful and concerning.

He was sitting on the edge of his bed, fiddling with something. Maybe he was sharpening a sword, refitting a sheath, polishing his boots… something like that. That part was foggy. Behind him, Zoro felt a weight on the bed. He knew it was you.

You scooted close to him from where you were sitting and reached your hands under the hem of his shirt. Your fingers ran over his bare skin, relishing the feeling of his abs and happy trail, every inch of his taut, tanned skin. You reached around his front and wrapped your arms around him. Your palms were warm, and you moved closer, body flush on his from behind. It was not lost on him that he could feel your breasts pressing on his back.

“Zoroooo,” you cooed right in his ear. Goosebumps. “You’re no fun. Pay attention to me. I’m bored.” You were whining.

You tickled him, poked him, kissed his back through the fabric of his shirt. You were all over him and it felt like your hands were everywhere. You were begging him to put down what he was doing and give you his undivided attention.

“Fine,” he responded in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes and putting his things away. He turned, maneuvering his body so he was facing you. “What do you want me to do?”

You pouted. “I don’t know. I’m bored. Let’s lay down and cuddle. Please?”

The scene shifted. You two were lying in bed, facing each other. You were eye to eye, arms thrown over each other. Zoro tucked your hair behind your ear, breathless. He was enamored, entranced by your beauty and admiration. Your hand was placed under his shirt, resting on his side. The skin contact felt electric. You leaned in and started to pepper his face with kisses—a recurring theme in these dreams. He must have really wanted that.

He closed his eyes.

You first brushed your lips lightly over his, and then you moved to kiss all over one of his cheeks, all over his forehead, his other cheek, his chin, his nose, his eyes, his jawline, ending at his lips again. You nuzzled his nose, ran your fingers through his hair—it was like you couldn’t get enough of him. Your lips were soft, meeting his delicately. When you pulled away from him. You held eye contact, an affectionate smile playing across your lips. He smelled you, felt you, and felt enveloped by you.

Zoro leaned in and kissed your forehead. You giggled and pulled him closer.

He could feel himself starting to say something in the dream, working up the nerve to say something that made his heart feel like it would stop. The words were getting caught in his mouth, they felt like they were taking forever to form…

They were words he almost said to you once before in a dream. He forced them out through his cotton mouth and hesitation.

“I love you.”

When the words left his lips, that twisting feeling happened inside of him so intensely that it must have detonated something. Each piece of shrapnel sent bolts of lightning through his body; he felt like he was vibrating, euphoric, every nerve on fire. He couldn’t breathe.

The dream version of you looked into his eyes and nodded. “I know you do, Zoro. I see you.”

Buzzing, Zoro felt like he wanted to rip his heart out of his chest and give it to you. He wanted you to see him, to see every part of him, to bare his soul to you and say ‘look, here is everything in me, here is every part of me.’

You were about to pull him into another kiss before he awoke up with a start, sweating and practically shaking.

Zoro’s heart was beating out of his chest. He sat up. Immediately, his first instinct was to check whether or not you were really in his bed. You weren’t—to both his relief and disappointment. He checked the time—3:36AM. Far too early. But he couldn’t fall back asleep now, not when his heart was pounding like this.

Why did he tell you he loved you?

It would be an understatement to say that Zoro’s mind was racing. He recalled that in one of his first dreams he wondered if you would still feel lonely if he embraced you. But if he did more than embrace you, if he gave all of himself to you, what then? What would you feel if he did that?

Would you stop feeling lonely and sad if he gave everything to you, even his heart? Would you give him yours, in return?

He ruminated on the concept of giving all of himself to you. What did that mean, and why did the thought pass through his mind when he was dreaming?

To give you all of him, for you to see every part of him… was that love? Is this what it meant to love? If giving you every part of himself meant spending every moment with you that he could, kissing and caressing you, making you feel better, listening to every word you stored up inside, sharing every word he stored up inside… The realization hit him like a train.

He wanted that. He ardently wanted to fill in the hole that loneliness had carved out of your life. And he realized that there was one in his life, as well. A lacuna of would-be companionship that he had forever thought was out of reach.

Could he give you what you needed? Is that what love is? To share yourself with someone else, to want them, to cherish them, care for them, see them for who they are?

He wanted to give you all of him. He didn’t want you to feel lonely, sad, or distressed ever again. He wanted to always be there, he wanted you to know you could tell him anything, wanted to know you like the back of his hand, and he wanted you to know him like that, too.

Zoro understood now what that twisting, thumping feeling inside of him was. No, it wasn’t arrythmia, or indigestion, or anything of the sort—it had been lying low for months, boiling under the surface. It all clicked into place.

That stirring and twisting feeling? It was the feeling of that lock inside of him breaking into a million pieces. The lock around his heart that prevented him from wanting to love and from knowing how to… it was gone now, obliterated.

That impenetrable lock, the lead chains, the crushing weight of it… He used to think that the key to that lock didn’t exist. But now that you were here, Zoro realized that you were the missing key. You were the one capable of ripping open that relentless opacity, that stoicism, that brick of pain that he tried to ignore and train away. You had ripped it to shreds, like it was nothing. You did it over the course of many months, many days, and even in his sleep.

Zoro realized that he was in love with you.

He wanted to recognize you completely and absolutely, and for you to do the same to him.

Zoro wanted to take showers with you and take turns shampooing each other’s hair. He wanted to hold your hand in public, feeling and seeing nothing else but you. He wanted to come home after a long day and hold you tight, kiss you and call you sweet names. He wanted to nuzzle your nose every day and drink up every smile like he was starving for it.

To think that you were so sad and lonely you cried? That shattered him. Hearing you be so vocal about it, seeing a different side of you that he never knew before—maybe he never felt this emotion until he met you for a reason. Now that the pieces were falling into place, he saw that it was you. It was always you. It was only you. It would only be you forever.

He did not have another dream about you for three nights.

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taglist: @riftmage27 @eggrollforyou @imhwajaez @wiyenspanel @xxmysticxxx @moonmaiden1996

a/n: thanks so much for reading! part 3 is going to be a minute - lmk if you want to be on the taglist! i have yet to write (most of) it.

#zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n

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shy-writer-999 · 2 days ago

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update/yap sesh: pt 2 of my new zoro fic will be posted tomorrow night! and for next week i am so so excited to post a sanji fic -- it may be one of my fave things ive ever written 🤌 7k words!

check in question for anyone and everyone who will humor me: why did you start watching one piece? was there a person who encouraged you to get started, or were you drawn to it for a different reason?

#z yaps #sanji has very much been on my mind recently #i need him :(

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shy-writer-999 · 4 days ago

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Subby Ace + aphrodisiacs: your top turned bottom!

Summary: Poor Ace has gotten into something with sex pollen in it. He's a mess and you're the only person who can help him. There's something delightful about seeing your very dominant boyfriend reduced to begging, whining, and even crying for a crumb of your pleasure. CW: straight up SMUT. very very pathetic needy filthy whiny ace. afab reader w/gendered language ('princess'); sex, edging, masturbation, blow job, hand job, dacryphilia, overstimulation, you name it. countless orgasms from ace, use of 'good boy' and 'pretty boy.' minors do not interact - nsfw content!

Ace is so dramatic and sensitive in bed. It gets worse when he goes on an outing by himself, and just so happens to get exposed to some form of sex pollen. He staggers back to the ship and comes straight to you.

He just won’t stop cumming. He can’t stop cumming.

His face is twisted up in anguish and he’s frowning, genuinely so miserable you think he’s about to cry.

“Baby, please help me, I’m going crazy.”

His erection looks bigger than usual—you didn’t think that was possible, and for a split second you’re worried that it won’t fit at all. But of course it will. It has fit countless times before.

“I need you. I’m begging you, sweetheart, please.” He frowns and does puppy dog eyes at you. Your heart melts, but you have to set him straight.

“Ace,” you tut. “You don’t ever need to beg for me.”

“Can I, though?” He smiles back, and it looks like a bit of a grimace.

“I’ll allow it. But you have to do what I say, okay?”

Ace nods. “Of course.” He’s thrilled at the idea of you being in control.

You sit down on the bed next to him and rest a hand on his thigh. He flinches.

“Fuck.” You can see his cock jump through the fabric of his underwear.

A simple hand on his skin like this is enough to make him squirm? It’s going to be a fun night. He looks pathetic and miserable right now. His brows are bent at the middle and he’s doing the cutest, saddest little pout you’ve ever seen.

“Touch me more, beautiful,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, mouth hanging open in concentration. His mind is fixated how your cool skin feels against his, how soft your hand is, how close you are to his throbbing hard on.

Your fingers wander over his skin, conjuring goosebumps and shudders, eliciting whimpering sounds from Ace’s pretty lips. The whimpers quickly turn into muted sounds of pleasure.

Precum seeps through the fabric of his underwear and you pity him, reaching your fingers upwards to pull the waistband down. When his cock springs out, sure enough, it’s bigger than usual, a fact which is both troubling and tantalizing.

The tip of his long shaft is red, inflamed, and defined. It glistens in the light from the dim lamp in the corner of his cabin, highlighting the precum that smears his head and continues to seep out—it’s a ridiculous amount of precum. You’ve never seen this much before.

You take a moment to admire him. Your eyes wander from his erection to his defined abs and dark, thin happy trail. Your eyes meet his. His pupils are huge and there’s a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead that mats down the hair around his temples.

Ace is trying not to be impatient, but it’s hard because his body is screaming for attention.

“Please, princess. Use me. Do anything you want to me.” His voice comes out as a whisper, tinted in reverence, and bathed in lust.

When you hum in reply, you stand up, slipping off your underwear and bra. He scoots back onto the pillows and his thighs widen while you get on top of him. Your lower yourself down to sit on top of his erection. You don’t fuck him yet, though. You just lay his shaft flat on your core and stay there for a second.

Some teasing couldn’t hurt. So, you slowly start to roll your hips, rubbing yourself on Ace’s wet shaft. It’s starting to get you worked up, too, and before you know it, you’re soaking wet.

Gasp after gasp tumbles out of his mouth and no less than thirty seconds later, he starts to seize up below you, cumming on his lower abdomen. His breaths are shallow and ragged, and he’s lying there panting.

“Don’t stop,” he chokes out, again begging for something he knows he’ll get if he only waits patiently. “Please don’t stop.”

“Poor thing.” You lean down and kiss him. Even the mere feeling of your lips on his makes him let out the softest groan. He feels like his whole body is on fire, but it’s in a way he’s never felt before, different from the logia fire he’s so accustomed to.

His kisses quickly turn greedy and sloppy, and every drag of your aching core over his cock makes him let out repressed puffs of air in your mouth. Soon, he’s moaning straight into your mouth.

God, he’s so worked up it’s starting to be more fun than you imagined.

Lining up his sticky wet tip with your entrance, you finally start to sink down onto his cock, going deliberately slow so he doesn’t cum again (yet). But when he bottoms out, his hips buck up inadvertently, hitting your gooey hot spot inside.

“F-fuck, fuck,” Ace groans again. “Feels, ah, feels so good.”

He’s practically keening at this point, back almost arching off the bed, fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

You start to ride him slowly. Whatever way feels best. Sometimes you pull yourself up his shaft so only the tip is inside and plunge it back in, other times you keep him inside of you and grind your hips back and forth. One moment, you brace your hands on his chest for more leverage; the next moment, you lean in and kiss his neck, leaving love bites in a trail from his neck to his shoulder. The contact draws out a body-wracking moan from the dark-haired man beneath you—the sounds he’s making are delicious.

He cums aggressively again, hips jerking upwards. Each press of his cock up hits your g-spot and when he feels your body shift in response it drives him crazier.

Ace’s fingers are pulling you downwards, pushing himself deeper inside of you.

“Need more,” he chokes out.

When your legs start to burn, he does all the work for you. Muscly, rough hands come under your thighs, moving you effortlessly up and down until you’re the one cumming, writhing in ecstasy on top of him.

But Ace still doesn’t want to stop. “Keep going, please.”

He has the habit of saying please in bed. It’s endearing. When he asks so nicely, it’s hard to say no.

So, your hips move more. And more. And more. Until they’re numb and he’s fucking you stupid.

You’ve collapsed on top of him now, mewling in his neck from each thrust. “C’mon baby, give me another.” You murmur in his ear, voice seductive and honeyed. It’s all he needs to hear before he literally cums on command.

He��s usually an animal in bed. Buy boy, whatever sex pollen or aphrodisiac he ran into today is doing a number on him. You, very obviously, have no issue with it.

Feral sounds escape his lips while Ace pumps more of his hot seed inside. It’s seeping out of you, creeping down the sides of his body, and saturating the fabric of the bedspread below him. It’s going to leave a massive, milky-white stain. And he isn’t done yet.

“Keep going,” he looks absolutely pathetic. “Please, please, I—I’m going crazy.” He can barely get the words out, so pussydrunk and out of it that he’s on the verge of drooling.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Missionary. But you’re going to go nice and slow, okay?”

Ace nods vigorously in return. He repositions. One of his warm hands is on your waist now, while the other gropes upwards to massage and caress your chest.

He takes his time, just like you told him. From this angle, you can see his face more—and it’s glistening, evidently he’s been crying. He’s been crying because of how good it feels. Something about the idea is wildly erotic. He wants pleasure so badly that he’s begging and crying over it, literal tears from those pretty brown eyes.

Every orgasm feels better than the last. He shoots more seed inside of you again, quickly, almost immediately upon entering you. But there’s a rebound period before his second orgasm where you decide to be a bit cruel.

“Slower, Ace.”

He complies, hips shaking, moving centimeters at a time. There’s so much cum inside of you that it’s almost sloshing out, squelching so loud you’re thankful no one is around to hear. His eyes are glued to where the cum seeps out of you, drinking up the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you with every pass.

Gravelly, obscene groans tumble out from him every second—it’s almost a constant stream.

“Wanna go faster,” he rasps, eyes snapping up to yours. You see more tears gathering on his lash line.

“Not yet, baby. Be a good boy and wait for it, okay?”

When he hears you call him that—good boy—a strangled sounding gasp erupts from his lips and his hips shudder. “Fuuuuhhhccckkk.”

Desperate, heaving breaths accompany his extreme efforts. He’s trying not to cum, trying not to buck and rut haphazardly and mindlessly into your cunt like some animal in heat.

A couple more moments of agonizing slowness pass. When you’ve decided he’s behaved, and when you’re similarly desperate enough, you give him the go ahead.

“Faster.”

His hips snap into action and he’s cumming again within a couple seconds. It’s amazing that he still has cum to give, that he’s not completely shooting blanks at this point, that he hasn’t drained his balls completely yet. But, surely, he’ll get there.

“Mmmpppphhhh,” he moans, deafeningly loud. “Ah, ah, fuck, f-feels so good, fuck.”

“Keep going, ‘m close,” you keen his name and his hips pick up the pace. Each time his cock pushes on your sweet spot it makes you see stars. You’re getting close and he’s getting overstimulated.

When you cum again the pleasure is white-hot and euphoric, buzzing every nerve in your body. Ace does the same—he’s too sensitive, can’t handle the feeling of your walls squeezing and milking him for long before he’s careening into his own wave of euphoria.

He slows down and starts to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. He’s sweaty and his body is hot. Looks like the sex pollen is making his devil fruit powers a bit harder to control.

“You want some more, handsome?” You ask, and he nods eagerly. When you move from underneath him, you ask him to lay on his back. Rifling through a bedside drawer, you bring out your vibrator. You usually keep it in his cabin because that’s where you get the most use out of it. But today, instead of using it on yourself, you’re going to try something new.

While you’re grabbing the toy, Ace reaches a hand down to start touching himself but you tell him to knock it off.

“You need to sit there and be good for me. Don’t touch yourself and don’t cum unless I say so, okay?”

When he hears your stern tone, Ace puts his hands behind his head, and peers down to see what happens next. It’s hard for him to stay still, but he tries his very best.

Situating yourself between his thick thighs, you turn the vibrator on and bring it to the head of Ace’s cock. He almost immediately starts to seize up. He’s going to cum again. But where would the fun be if you just let him?

You take the vibrator away and frown. “Do I need to tell you again? Don’t cum until I say so, sweetheart.”

He pouts and nods. You bring the vibrator back and put it on the lowest setting setting. He’s hardly holding on as is, but when you turn the vibrator’s speed up, he starts to writhe in pleasure.

“’m close,” he whines, biting his lip.

You take the vibrator off again, met with a strangled sounding cry of frustration from Ace. He takes a few minutes to cool back down until he’s ready for you to start again.

Twenty, no, thirty minutes pass like this until he’s on the verge of tears again. When you finally let him have it, he asks so nicely. It’s not like he hasn’t been asking nicely before, but this time his voice cracks and you can see the tears in his lash line.

“C-can I please, please cum?” He’s being so sweet and needy. It’s crazy to think this is the strong, courageous man who has protected you countless times. Reduced to a sniveling mess, asking for another orgasm.

You say yes. He’s being so polite, so why not?

After this orgasm, he’s almost ready to tap out. He can use his safe word, obviously but… he really doesn’t want to. It feels too good. He’ll keep going for as long as he physically can.

“You still have another couple to give me, right? Don’t you want to be good for me and keep going?” You say, looking up from between his thighs. The tip of his cock is inflamed from the relentless vibrating, and his abdomen is coated in a sheen of his own cum. He’s at the point where he doesn’t care about anything, fucked-out with his mind empty.

When he nods his head mindlessly, you take your turn. You sink down on his cock (again) and ride him for as long as it takes you to orgasm. For the record, it doesn’t take long, but Ace has lost track of time.

He’s being louder than usual. Every few seconds he lets out some form of a whine, a whimper, a “fuck,” a “please,” or a “’s too much.” His cheeks are bright red, accentuating those cute freckles, and his eyes are half-lidded. He’s so handsome it makes your stomach flip. He’s falling apart with minimal effort, and he’s all hands, too. He grabs handfuls of the plush skin of your hips and ass, kneading and getting himself more wound up.

Ace cums once while you’re working up to your own orgasm, then again when you’re cumming on his cock, and then a third time, when you pull yourself off his length and wrap a hand around his shaft. Every time he cums, you encourage and praise him. It drives him crazier.

“There’s a good boy,” you say. “Keep going for me. Don’t stop.”

You talk dirty to him while you give him one very long hand job. He eats it up, loves the idea of you speaking filth to nobody but him. Before you started seeing each other, he couldn’t imagine you had this sort of mouth on you—not in his wildest dreams. It’s his delight every time you’re in bed that you feel comfortable enough with him to talk like this.

“You’re just too sweet I can’t stop Ace,” your voice oozes in desire. “And you’re being so good for me.”

“’s good?” He slurs, holding your eye contact as much as he can manage.

“Mmmhm. Tell me what it feels like. Use your words, okay?”

His eyes flutter and his voice comes out as a whisper. “So good. F-feels so fucking good.”

You coo in his ear and bite his earlobe softly. “Don’t I always make you feel so good?” He nods in a silent reply, rocking his hips up to fuck himself with your fist.

As you milk more cum from him, he reaches a hand up—you initially think he’s going for your chest, but his hand falls on your cheek and he attempts to pull you into a kiss. He’s a bit weak in his current state, so you oblige him by leaning in.

It’s just gut-wrenchingly cute of him to be fucked dumb like this and still want to get kisses from you. He’s just thanking his lucky stars that you, of all people, is who he ended up with.

While you explore his mouth with your tongue, and cup his face with your free hand, his heart feels like it’s going to burst.

He cums again. The fact that he still has cum to give is preposterous in itself. You’ve lost track of time at this point, too.

You make him eat you out and he’s (understandingly) sloppy with it. His hot mouth feels just right on your core, and he pays just enough attention to your clit. Feeling you pull on his hair makes him feel more aroused than he thought possible.

So, he’s ready to fuck you again. He goes for another round in missionary, then puts you into a mating press. Afterwards, he gets tuckered out and you figure that he has one good one left in him, or, rather, he probably has more to give but he really should give it a rest after that. It would be way too cruel to make him keep going after this one, right? You’ll decide the answer to this question after he cums for you again.

“One more, Ace,” you pet his ruffled up hair and grace him with kisses. “You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty boy?”

He nods obediently.

“There you go,” you purr and start to trace your lips down his abdomen, licking up a small portion of the very large mess he’s made on himself.

His eyes widen as he realizes he’s about to get one of his very favorite things—a blowjob from none other than yourself.

He lifts his head up and watches in awe as you lick a long stripe up his shaft and then take him whole, hollowing your cheeks before you start to suck him off. You’re gentle at first, until he starts moaning louder, then you figure fuck it, he can cum. You let him off easy this time. He’s just been so good for you.

When you look up from your position between his legs, you make eye contact, nod, and then hum. It sends him over the edge. Ace’s fingers snake into your hair and he holds your head down as he cums down your throat.

“C-cumming, ‘m cumming, ah, fuck, fuhhhcckkk that feels good,” his groans are harsh and loud.

He’s so sweet afterwards that it’s heart melting. You know that he must be tired, but he doesn’t act the part. Not when you’ve been so good to him, when you’ve praised him, taken your time with him, coddled and kissed him. It almost makes you feel guilty how affectionate he is.

Pulling into you a long, tender kiss, he so sweetly says, “fuck, you’re perfect. I can’t believe someone like me gets to be with someone like you.”

You cup his cheeks and tell him to cut it out. Of course someone like him gets to be with someone like you. He’s perfect, after all. You cuddle him in bed for a while before he, again, very politely, asks if you’d help clean him up. He’s positively covered in cum and doesn’t want to stain anything else more than he already has. Seems like this is another pair of bedsheets that can be considered properly soiled. Not like that will stop you from doing the same thing in the future.

Now, where did he come across that sex pollen again?

this style of writing for me (when i just write straight up smut with no plot) is akin to a sort of slop. i am the lunch lady handing out scoops of questionable and most likely unsatisfying mush BUT sometimes on a good day it is delicious... i can only hope the slop today did not disappoint... >_> cant say this one is my absolute fave so apologies if it's trash T-T but i love the idea of him being so whiny like this..!!

check out my masterlist and also the best piece i've written on ace so far, if you liked this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune

taglist @eggrollforyou

#very proud of the ace collage i made #HUZZAH for calling ace a pretty boy #i would do sinful heinous filthy things to this man if i could #portgas d ace smut #portgas ace smut #one piece smut #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #op ace x reader #ace x you #ace x reader

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shy-writer-999 · 6 days ago

Text

It's getting hot in here...

Summary: After a nice meal, you start to feel weird. Did you eat something funny? It turns out everyone is feeling the same, and there's only one thing to do about it. Read content warnings please!

CW: Lots of nasty sex. Afab reader, G/N language. Aphrodisiacs. TONS of zosan gay shit (like 50% of this fic). Could be considered dubcon because the aphrodisiacs are strong and reader keeps losing touch with reality, but it is consensual >_> Voyerusim, dacryphilia, begging, dry humping, edging, masturbation, "good boy," riding, prone bone, you name it. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS IS (VERY) NSFW CONTENT.

Something was in the water at the new island the Sunny anchored on. Or was it in the wine? The bread? The butter? You couldn’t remember what you ate. Your memory of the night was blurred—scattered scenes played through your mind the next day. Your recollection was… messy and nonsensical. You tried to recount the night.

In the early hours of the night in question, Sanji went into the island’s town to get supplies and ingredients for dinner. It was a nice day full of free time, clear skies with a slight breeze.

Nami and Robin went shopping and they wouldn’t be back on the ship in time for dinner. Brook, Usopp, Chopper, and Franky went off and did god knows what. Similarly, they wouldn’t be back in time for the evening meal. Sanji promised to make enough so they could have leftovers later.

When everyone went on their separate outings, that left you, Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji on the ship.

It was a small, simple, and delicious dinner that night. An intimate setting with just you four, a nice opportunity to hang out with part of the East Blue crew. You were soaking in some modicum of silence and peace (whenever Luffy allowed it) on the mostly empty ship.

Aside from Luffy’s chomping and smacking noises while he ate, dinner was relatively silent. Sanji and Zoro weren’t butting heads for once, either. You sat at the table, talked sparingly, and drank some of the wine that Sanji bought in town.

When dinner was over, you helped Sanji wash up (like usual), then you sat at the dinner table and did some reading.

An hour or so passed. You read your book while Sanji prepped food and cleaned the kitchen a few feet away. Gradually, the room got warmer. You opened a window, letting in some of the cool evening air, propped a door open, and sat back down again.

After a few minutes, you noticed that you felt a bit ill. Lightly perspiring, you almost shivered—your limbs felt heavy, you felt light-headed. You tried to reason it away. Did you have too much wine?

No, you didn’t. You stood up, and as you rose to your feet you realized that you felt like you were going to pass out. At the same time, your body started to buzz. You had never felt like this before. Something was seriously off.

Sanji was still in the kitchen cleaning up, and you staggered in his direction, stopping at the sink to splash some water on your face. The cold water felt great on your hot cheeks, and you could have sworn you saw steam rise up from where the cool droplets met your skin.

“My love, are you alright?” Sanji’s sweet voice shocked you out of your feverish stupor. You had almost forgotten he was there. When you turned to face him, your body pulsed and heat tingled outwards from between your legs, radiating to your whole body. He had never looked so good before.

The blonde’s eyes widened in shock—your pupils were dilated, your breathing was shallow and quick, and your face was covered in a sheen of sweat. He brought a hand to your forehead and confirmed that you had a fever. “Are you sick, dearest? You don’t look well.”

When his skin touched yours, your breath hitched. “Sanji, I don’t feel too good.”

“Do you need to go lay down? I’ll get Chopper to come take your temperature and give you something to help you feel better, okay?”

You didn’t know it, but Sanji was starting to feel ill, too. He was sweating just barely and had, up until that point, been blaming it on the fact that he just cooked and cleaned and was a bit exhausted. But what was more concerning to him was that in your feverish state you looked even more beautiful than usual—no, beautiful wasn’t the right word. In his mind he remarked that you looked fucking hot. Stunning. Sexy, even.

He could rip your clothes off here and now and ravage you, had you been up for it. But that sentiment wasn’t necessarily out of the norm, rather, it was that you were evidently sick, and he was starting to feel a bit woozy himself.

Maybe the food had turned, and he didn’t realize it, so you were both suffering from food poisoning. But that would have been very unlike him to not pick up on the food tasting rotten. It must have been something else. Did you both pick up some virus from the last island you were on? Like Nami on Little Garden that one time?

A soft whine slipped out of your lips. The noise made his stomach flip. You sounded like you were in pain but… you also sounded a bit erotic to him. In this state, his mind raced. Is that what you would sound like in bed? Whining like that?

Sanji mentally berated himself more than ever before, letting self-disgust wash over for a moment before he shook it off. When he got back to his senses (he had been staring at you for only a couple of seconds), he started to guide you to your cabin for some rest. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you to bed.”

But no matter how many internal curses he threw at himself, he felt a tent forming in his pants. Something weird was happening.

He balked at the idea that seeing you in your current state was getting him so flustered. You were ill, after all. What sort of gentleman would he be right now, if he was thirsting over you while you had a dangerously high fever and were obviously in pain?

As he tried to shrug off how odd he was starting to feel, the blonde chef guided you down the hallway and towards your room. You walked behind him and your vision started to get splotchy. With every degree your fever worsened, you felt something get more intense—was this feeling arousal? At a time like this?

Sure enough, heat bloomed between your legs; small zaps of pleasure radiated

outwards with each step. The arousal-sickness combination was disorienting and concerning.

And not only were you just aroused, but it was coupled with wild sensitivity—as you moved, the fabric of your pants brushed down there, sending an electric shock up your spine as the tingling sensation intensified. Were you hallucinating, or was wetness seeping out of your core, saturating your panties?

The walk down the hallway felt like years.

By the time you were almost to your bed, you were soaking wet from nothing other than walking. You tried to squeeze your legs together. Was there a stain on your pants from how unreasonably wet you were? Should you hide it? The fabric of your pants was rubbing you just right, and, in the moment you sat on the bed, you convulsed in pleasure. Undeniably, you moaned. A quiet one, but a moan, no less.

You sat there for a few seconds, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as you positively buzzed in pleasure. You didn’t know what was happening, and you were unaware that you were slowly rubbing your thighs together, drawing out more tingles of pleasure. Was that an orgasm?

Sanji’s mind was racing, and he was hyperaware of everything—every shallow breath and flutter of your eyes was making his heart patter and the tent in his pants grow. He was fully erect now, and his mind was so scrambled that he didn’t even think of hiding it. He almost couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

It was from this point on that you started to question if any of this was real or if you were just having a fever dream.

Sanji stood over you, watching in what could be called a mixture of concern and rabid desire. Your eyes opened finally, and it felt like you had tunnel vision. You noticed it then—his erection, hard and big. There was a visible stain on his bulge where precum pooled into the fabric. His cock twitched when he realized your eyes were focused on it.

“A-are you okay?” Sanji asked. He didn’t know what to say. He needed to drag himself away to a bathroom and deal with this.

His words got caught in his throat as your body literally worked against your own whims. Your fingers moved like they were being controlled by a puppeteer—you watched them in third person as they trailed down your abdomen and came to rest over your throbbing core.

Looking up at him, you gave yourself a squeeze through your pants. Some erotic sound tumbled from your lips. Your fingers started to circle over the fabric of your pants where your clit must have been, and you spread your thighs a bit. You couldn’t control yourself.

“Help, Sanji,” you whispered, mouth dry. “Don’t know what’s happening. Can’t stop.” Your fingers moved faster, building a crescendo of pleasure that would crash onto you soon. You felt like you were going crazy with need. No longer focused on the fever wracking your body, your mind knew only one thing: you needed pleasure.

If you didn’t get more soon, you were worried you’d pass out. Or something would happen. Would you go crazy?

“H-help?” Sanji’s voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“Touch me,” you whimpered, fingers moving faster now. His jaw dropped.

Luffy suddenly staggered to the door and leaned on the frame. He was unbothered by the sight in front of him and, quite frankly, he looked a damn mess. His hair was plastered down on his forehead in sweat, he had no shirt on, and his pajama pants were riding down, showing the band of his boxers.

“Guys,” Luffy’s voice was strained. “I feel really weird.”

Your eyes darted down. Luffy was rock hard, bulge standing out against the gray fabric of his pants. His cloudy vision came to rest on your chest. With no care in the world, one of his hands reached down to start rubbing himself.

“It won’t go away no matter what I do,” Luffy rubbed the heel of his hand down the outline of his erection, and his words were broken by a loud grunt. “I came here to ask for help but it—it looks like you beat me to it.” He cracked a grimace/smile and threw his head back after a moment, leaning his whole weight on the door frame as he touched himself through the fabric.

You snuck a hand into your pants. Brushing your clit gently, you keened. You were on autopilot, incapable of controlling your actions and not the most cognizant. All you knew was you needed more, and if you didn’t get more, something bad would happen.

“Mmmphhhh,” Luffy stifled a groan as he squeezed himself, lost in his own world. “It’s like my body is on fire.”

Your vision went black around the edges—you started to rub faster, spreading your legs open wide and creeping your fingers under your panties.

Burying your hand in your underwear, you hissed in air at your teeth as your fingertips came in contact with your hot folds. Your back arched and a needy sound trickled out. “F-fuck, Sanji help me.”

Sanji froze, eyes glued on your hand that was shoved down your pants, stirring under the fabric. The stain on his pants got bigger and wetter—it was very noticeable.

“What do you want me to do love?” He asked in a hushed, hesitant tone. He was holding onto his last shreds of reason, trying not to pounce on you, but those shreds of rationality were slipping out of his grasp like sand.

Your vision started to go black. You closed your eyes, lost in the pleasure that you pulled from yourself in a daze. Sanji reached a hand up to your core and ran a thumb up and down over the fabric above your clit. Your wetness was seeping through the layers already.

Some amount of time passed. You came and it helped you regain lucidity. When you opened your eyes—you had no clue how long it had been—you were laying on the bed and Luffy stood over you, watching intently.

Sanji was sitting at the end of the bed, now shamelessly digging his thumb into the tip of his cock, playing with his slit as clear precum seeped out of it. His hips bucked upwards a few times and you watched. You realized that you were touching yourself, moving your fingers in swift and messy need.

Luffy leaned in and pressed his lips on yours. The first few kisses were surprisingly sweet, loving, even, but they quickly turned sloppy. He maneuvered onto the bed—now, his knee was pressed against your core, a hand braced on one side of your head, and the other rested on your cheek as he kissed you passionately.

You made out for a few seconds, grinding down onto his knee a bit, aiming for friction. Your mewls were driving him and Sanji insane—the blonde continued to tease himself and stroke slowly while he watched Luffy take in every inch of you with his lips. The captain’s lips moved south.

He pulled your pants and panties off quickly, spread your thighs wide, and started to eat you out on the spot. Pressing his tongue on your clit, the captain drew soft circles around your sensitive bud, then he swiped his tongue up and down along your entrance. Luffy wasted no time slurping and greedily licking every inch and crevice of you that he could.

You started to lose touch with reality again—you realized, distantly and in third person, that whatever was wrong with you seemed like you would start to black out any time you went too long without an orgasm. As you were making this conclusion, a loud thud at the door distracted you once again.

Zoro’s body had dragged him across the ship, bringing him to your room of its own accord. He could hardly walk, slamming into the door frame, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the bed next to Sanji, eyes darting between Luffy eating you out and the blonde’s fist stroking and squeezed his hard on.

Your eyes shifted to Zoro, sitting with his legs spread wide on the bed next to Sanji. The swordsman started running a palm over his clothed erection. His breaths were fast, his cheeks were bright pink, he didn’t seem fully cognizant of the fact his eyes were glued on his nemesis/frenemy’s fist pumping over his cock. No one said a word for a few moments. It was a silent agreement—whatever was happening needed to be addressed, and there was only one thing to do.

It had been too long without an orgasm again for you. Your vision went black and your mind went blank. When an orgasm finally crashed into you, minutes later, it brought you back to reality and a few moments of lucidity. Your ears were greeted by a cacophony of ragged breaths and deep groans to your left.

Turning your head, your eyes were met with the sight of two people (who you thought utterly hated each other) entangled on the bed.

Sanji was completely naked, while Zoro had on short, tight, black boxer-briefs. He was on top of Sanji, rubbing and humping his own erection on Sanji’s while his brows furrowed and needy sounds trickled out of his mouth. Every few seconds, Sanji let out a whimper and arched his back off the bed.

“Don’t stop,” Sanji gasped, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as Zoro’s muscles rippled and his clothed cock brushed onto Sanji’s aching, red one.

“I f-fucking can’t,” the swordsman grunted in response, his tone tinged with annoyance.

Your eyes stayed glued on the pair, bewildered and feral, until Luffy’s tongue, buried inside of you, demanded your attention. Was he using his devil fruit powers? Head had never felt this good before. His tongue prodded the pulsing hotness of your core, sliding up and down greedily between your lips before pushing inside of you again.

The slurping noises from your captain were sinful. Your eyes crept from his head buried between your legs to the sight of his hips rutting on the sheets beneath. His cock craved friction. He wished his tongue wasn’t buried in you but something else instead.

Grabbing tufts of Luffy’s hair, you dragged his mouth closer, pressing his roaming tongue as deep as physically possible.

“L-luffy, need m-more. Please.” You begged, vision getting blurry around the edges. You felt hotter than before.

Instead of your captain’s voice in response, a loud moan from Sanji answered your pleading. Your eyes snapped to the pair of men again—Sanji was squirming under the swordsman, shuddering and clawing at Zoro’s biceps now as he grinded up into his cock.

“Cumming,” the blonde grunted, pushing his hips upward, grinding harder onto Zoro. “I’m c-cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The chef came on his own stomach while Zoro rocked his hips into the blonde’s shaft with more urgency, overstimulating him and eliciting desperate cries.

“Can’t stop,” Zoro choked out amidst his own moans and heaves for air. You were speechless. You had never witnessed this level of pure desire before.

Tears pricked in the corner of the chef’s eyes, but he didn’t tell the swordsman to stop, in fact, he rutted his hips up again and again. He was gearing up for yet another orgasm when Zoro brought him into a kiss and trailed his fingers towards the blonde’s erection.

More moments fleeted by—more gut-wrenching pleasure from Luffy’s tongue inside of you, hazy images of Sanji and Zoro grinding on each other, smearing the milky puddle of cum all over Sanji’s abdomen on Zoro’s underwear and abs.

Your eyes fixated on the outline of Zoro’s erection through the damp fabric. You were mesmerized.

Time faded into oblivion. The next memory you had was of Zoro flipping you over, onto your stomach, and climbing on top of you. He positioned you in prone bone, pressing his chest on your back. Trailing his fingers down and squeezing a rough handful of your ass, he then dipped two fingers into your hot folds and coaxed fireworks of pleasure from you.

Zoro relished how wet and ready you were for him thanks to Luffy’s previous work. He played with you for a little while, dragging his finger pads across your g-spot repeatedly and curling them upwards inside of you until you begged for more. When he pushed his cock inside, he felt so big that it was almost painful. He entered you centimeters at a time, and when he finally bottomed out and the ring of hair around the base of his cock met your flesh, his hips started to pump into yours rhythmically, gaining speed each moment that passed.

“Feels hot and s-sticky inside,” he gasped, hips shuddering into you as his tip passed your g-spot. You shifted under him the slightest bit, drawing a sensitive gasp from the swordsman. Every movement from him felt euphoric—and coupled with his weight on top of you, you felt like you were doing crazy with desire. He couldn’t fuck you fast enough.

Turning your head, you realized that Sanji had one hand wrapped around his cock again but was now in a similar position to you. He was flush with the bed, chest pressing on the covers, simultaneously stroking himself and humping the sheets as he watched Zoro fuck you.

Zoro groaned pure filth in your ear. “Just like that, baby. Fuhccckkk. Feels so good.”

Each pass of Zoro’s length inside of you and past your g-spot was met with a squelching noise from how wet you were—every roll of his hips pushed him deeper inside of you and it felt like you were floating.

As Sanji watched, his fist moved faster and so did his hips. He roughly jerked his length and rubbed his glistening tip into the covers. His cock felt hot, it was pulsing, and each brush of his flesh against the fabric made him shiver. He was working off of animal instinct alone, eyes so dilated and mind so foggy that all he knew was that he felt good and he didn’t want it to stop. He could watch the pair of you for hours. He didn’t care.

Voice husky and bathed in lust, Zoro was getting more worked up. “Say my name,” he groaned as his length passed in and out of you. “Say it.”

Before his name could exit your lips, Sanji moaned into the sheets below. “Zoro. Zoro. Hah, fuck, Zoro.” Moments later, you watched him orgasm all over the sheets below, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut.

Hearing the chef’s desperate, pathetic mewls made Zoro fuck you faster. The tip of his cock bullied your g-spot repeatedly. And just when you thought you were at the precipice of orgasm, Zoro reached a hand under you and started to rub your clit, then he bit your shoulder. The pain felt good, and the combination of sensations was overwhelming—your orgasm was intense, shocking, and ecstatic.

A fleeting thought passed through your mind—where’s Luffy?

He was perched at the end of the bed, touching himself to the sight, waiting for his turn, which he promptly took when Zoro was done with you.

The next scene in your memory was Luffy fucking you, but you weren’t quite sure how you got there. You did remember that right before Luffy touched you, he asked you softly, “Do you want to keep going? Or have you had enough?”

You croaked out an eager, “more.”

“On top?” Luffy asked, waiting for your confirmation. And when you again agreed, he shifted, so he was laying on the bed, and you were on top of him.

Sinking down on his cock, you started to ride him. His hands came to rest on your hips and his eyes looked hungry. As if he wasn’t full from the ridiculously huge meal he just ate.

Parallel to you and Luffy, Zoro had Sanji on his lap. Zoro’s chest pressed on Sanji’s back, so the chef was facing you and Luffy. The swordsman’s large, rough hand wrapped around Sanji’s front. Languidly, Zoro played with Sanji’s shaft, teasing him at a snail’s pace.

Zoro wasn’t all there mentally because of (what you deduced to be) the aphrodisiacs. It’s like he was running on pure thirst. Something in him wanted Sanji to beg and wanted to see you getting off to the sight. He was getting a kick out of the cook being absolutely pathetic. He wanted to see him be utterly shameless.

“’m gonna cum,” Sanji whimpered, writhing around on the stocky pair of hair thighs underneath him.

“Shhh. Not yet, cook. Can’t you hold on for a little bit longer? Don’t you want to watch?”

Sanji got quieter and nodded, holding his orgasm at bay as best he could while he watched you ride Luffy, who was practically growling out commands faster than you could keep up.

“Faster.” “Faster.” “Harder.” “More.” Every time he spoke, you did as he said. You did so until your legs started to burn, until your thighs started to shake, until he was doing all the work for you, lifting you up and down on his shaft.

He pressed his tip on your spongey hot spot and wrenched pleasure from you. Zoro edged and teased Sanji within an inch of his life while the pair of them watched—it was almost cruel. The cook was in tears over how good it felt, how badly he wanted to keep cumming, and how much it was getting to his head.

“Please Z-zoro, fuck, please.” Sanji was close to his breaking point.

“Just a bit longer, curly brows, hold on.”

A few more seconds passed. It didn’t take long for Luffy to bring you to the brink of orgasm, which was what Zoro was hoping for. As you started to shake, eyes rolling back in white-hot pleasure from your orgasm, Zoro finally gave Sanji permission to cum.

You hadn’t expected the swordsman to be this controlling, this mean, and this verbal.

“Mmmphhhh. Just like that,” Zoro exhaled while he watched you cum all over Luffy’s cock. “Now you can cum.” He then murmured something in Sanji’s ear that would have left you gob smacked if you had enough wherewithal to think. “There’s a good boy.”

While Sanji painted his own stomach white, you collapsed on top of Luffy. He kissed the side of your head and started to pet your hair.

“You need a break?” He asked you, voice tender and kinder than usual. You nodded and then drifted into unconsciousness for some period of time.

Memories after this point completely faded to black. You had some notion of waking up and sucking Zoro off and then riding Sanji until he cried again, but… the images were blurred. Someone came on your face, two indiscernible figures in your memory were entangled on the sheets again, but… you drew a blank after a point.

---

When you finally came to, you concluded that whatever the fuck that was must have been a very strong aphrodisiac. You couldn’t figure out what it was in though—the wine? The water? Something in the food? Whatever it was, it must have gotten out of your system through sheer number of orgasms and hours of fucking.

You were still on your bed, under the covers and tucked in along with Luffy. Sanji and Zoro were off somewhere, presumably getting cleaned up but…? Who knows.

You checked the clock—it was around 10:00PM. You, Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro had been going at it since 5:00PM, shortly after your early dinner. So… almost five whole hours? But you didn’t feel like it, really. You weren’t sore or anything which was a feat in itself.

Putting some clothes on, you wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water. You were parched. You’d have to wait to debrief until you saw Zoro or Sanji, or until Luffy woke up.

You walked into the kitchen and were met with a sight that broke your brain for a second. Nami, Robin, Franky and Usopp were at the dinner table, chowing down on the dinner leftovers Sanji packaged up for them in cute little serving boxes. They must have just gotten back from their outings.

Your eyes flashed around the room—wine bottles were open. They were having a grand old time.

Your stomach sank. Fuck. They were about to have even grander of a time if they kept eating and drinking like that. You’d have to sit yourself out for round two—not sure you could handle it, honestly.

After that night, you came to a good understanding of the dynamics with each man in bed. Not only from your memory, but because you went in for seconds with each of them at some point. Luffy was greedy and forthcoming, but kind, like usual. Zoro was an absolute machine, filthy and verbose. And Sanji was, well, Sanji. He was doting, pathetic, and desperate. What a good variety to choose from—you were never left wanting again.

ik im gonna look back at this later and go GOD DAMN woman, were you okay? frothing at the mouth. anyway...

thanks for reading!! this was pretty challenging for me, i wanted it to be halfway decent but just couldn't get it anywhere i wanted really T-T idk if i'll ever live up to the luffy aphrodisiac kinktober fic i wrote :p

here's my masterlist if you're interested!

dividers courtesy of @issysh3ll taglist @eggrollforyou !

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shy-writer-999 · 7 days ago

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an ode to trafalgar d. water law---

#yes i made these gifs myself #the bread crumbs we got today will fuel me for months #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d water law #heart pirates #one piece #one piece law #op law #law one piece

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shy-writer-999 · 10 days ago

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How many dreams to say "I love you"?

Summary: Zoro overhears a private conversation and starts having disturbingly vivid dreams. He can’t figure out why, but as thoughts of you start to take over both his sleeping and waking hours, he realizes that something else must be happening.

Part 1 out of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly plot. Some explicit/NSFW content, though; minors don't interact. Afab reader w/some gendered language (she/her pronouns). Kissing, fingering, masturbation.

Part 1: A lesson—don't eavesdrop.

Zoro did not think he was capable of romantic love. He’d never desired it, never felt empty about it, in fact, he saw it as an unfortunate distraction from his goals. On top of that, there were some things in his life that he could not and would never compromise on, and he had a feeling that this mindset was simply incompatible with relationships in general.

Sometimes, when he saw couples hang all over each other or make out in public, he cringed. He would roll his eyes when he saw couples holding hands, when he saw them saying “I love you” to each other, and when he saw Sanji act like a love-sick dog.

Zoro would cringe doubly hard when he heard people say, “making love,” he balked at the idea of holding hands or PDA, and felt off put by the whole concept of marriage. Like he could or would tie himself down like that forever. As if.

He never questioned his reaction to (or stances on) these things. He just shrugged it off—to him, PDA was an eyesore, and romantic love was a futile waste of time.

But the underlying reason, the reason he would never admit, was that he felt like it was forever out of reach for him. He felt like he shouldn’t even try, and he convinced himself for years that it would add nothing to his life. Nor had Zoro ever met someone who made him feel like he wanted to access the part of him where his capacity for romantic love was buried (if it existed, that is).

The few times he strained himself to imagine what it would be like to have a partner, what it would feel like to share himself with someone completely, he felt like there was a brick inside of him, literally and physically. There was some weight inside, some opaque block that he couldn’t see past. He knew that he had never experienced romantic love and he felt that at his age, if he hadn’t felt anything like that before, it’d never happen.

There was a lock inside of him and the key did not exist.

It's not like Zoro was insecure or lacked confidence. He was Roronoa Zoro, after all. He knew who he was, and he had no issue with that. It’s not that he didn’t love himself enough, but rather that he didn’t think he was capable of loving someone else.

Romantic love felt completely inaccessible for him. Maybe his insides had curdled at one point. Maybe he had too much pain to plant seeds of love inside of himself and watch them bloom. If the block was already built, he had no intentions of breaking it down. If the lock without a key was there, guarding something, he knew that it would never be opened.

He wasn’t too pressed about it, or so he thought.

One night, you and Nami were having drinks on deck. Zoro was finishing up an extra round of exercises on the upper deck, a little way away. When he was doing his exercises, he couldn’t hear anything. He was in the zone, meditating, heaving air, locked in. But when he finished working out and started stretching, he heard your conversation with Nami clearly.

He just caught the end of the conversation. He was technically eavesdropping—he wasn’t sure either of you realized he was up there, or else you wouldn’t have been so candid, but he couldn’t turn his ears off. When Zoro heard what you were saying he was intrigued. He knew he shouldn’t, but he held still and listened, against his better judgment.

“What do you mean?” He heard Nami ask you. It was the sort of conversation that you could only share with your best friend. It seemed like you were telling her everything on your mind, baring your soul, not holding back.

“Well, you know…” you answered softly, after a pause. “The type of love where you take showers together and shampoo each other’s hair. And when you’re together in public together it feels like no one else is around…”

Nami hummed in agreement, prompting you to continue.

“The type of love where you come home to them after the worst day and one look at them makes it all feel better. Forehead kisses sort of love. When you give them every part of you, and they do the same. I want a love like that. Do you know what I mean?” You asked.

You were blushing. Zoro could hear it in your voice. He had become very familiar with you the past few months. You were good friends, and he paid special attention to you. He watched your every move. Even so, he didn’t think anything of it—so what, he wanted to know you were safe all the time and spent hours studying your face. So what, he remembered every word you’d ever said to him. What’s the big deal? You were friends.

Zoro knew you were pretty, there was no question. If he was honest with himself, he was attracted to you. But being attracted to someone and being in love with someone aren’t the same—and no matter how much he thought you were pretty, it didn’t (and wouldn’t) go farther than that, nor would he be able to.

He thought he just didn’t have the range for a relationship, he could never see himself like that, had never felt those emotions before. Zoro had a fondness for you and told himself that this was normal between friends. Your pretty face and smile were irrelevant to the closeness and strength of your friendship, and he reprimanded himself any time he caught himself staring at your lips or musing on how pretty your fingers were.

But… Zoro would roll his eyes sardonically at Sanji anytime he got a ‘nosebleed’ over you and passed out. Zoro would call him a “fucking idiot.” If Sanji touched you or said something over the line, he’d chew him out. And if someone made one wrong step in your direction, Zoro got protective.

He wouldn’t mince words and would pull his swords out with no hesitation. He saw red one time a guy got handsy with you at a bar without your permission; Zoro caused a scene and thought about it for weeks afterwards. Any time you were injured, he felt worried sick. He told himself that all of this was the case because you were close friends.

The thought never crossed his mind that he didn’t do these things for the other people he called friends.

As he was listening, Nami responded to you. “Have you ever had a love like that?”

There was a moment of silence. Zoro figured you were shaking your head yes or no. He wondered which it was. Had you felt a love like that?

“That’s really sweet.” Nami continued. “I understand. It explains why you’ve been feeling that way recently…” Her pensive voice trailed off.

Zoro heard your voice crack after moment, your breath hitching quietly. It sounded like you were crying. “I know I’ll be fine, but it’s just hard being so lonely when you’re around someone who… who… well, you know. I just feel so empty inside. It’s been hurting really bad recently, Nami. I don’t know what to do.” You sniffled and he could tell that you were frowning.

There was a pause for many seconds. The only thing audible was quiet sobs. He wondered if tears were getting caught in your eyelashes, rolling down your cheeks. He had never seen you cry before.

“Awh, I get it.” Nami answered. She was being kinder than Zoro thought she was capable of. “I’m sure you won’t feel like this for long though, I think he’ll come around eventually. We can all see it. I’m always here for you and will always listen to you. So, don’t get yourself down, okay? Do you want a hug?”

You squeaked out an “mhm” between sniffles. Some quiet moments passed and some shuffling. Nami must have been giving you a hug.

“Let’s wipe those tears away and get you feeling better. How about we get another bottle to distract us, and then maybe we can get Sanji to make us something yummy. I’m sure Usopp and Chopper are doing something silly, too. Does that sound like a good idea?”

He heard you answer her with another sniffle, but it sounded like you were smiling now. “Thanks for listening to me Nami, you’re the best. Yeah, let’s go get another.” Your voices and footsteps retreated inside.

Zoro was stumped for a second. He paused to let his gears turn. He was creating a mental map that looked something like this:

You were talking to Nami about what type of love you wanted.

Nami asked you if you had experienced that before… met with silence.

You were crying—you said it was hard being around someone, and you felt empty inside.

Nami made a comment, “we can all see it.” The ‘all’ in question would presumably be the crewmates… right? What did they see, and why wasn’t he aware of this?

As Zoro pondered this mental map, he was caught up on two things. First, he was surprised to hear that you were lonely. Any time you were around him, you seemed fine. You smiled and laughed every day and had great conversations, so to hear that you were lonely was surprising for him. He wouldn’t have guessed it.

Second, when you described what sort of love you wanted, he felt something. Something shifted inside of him, or maybe it twisted. If Zoro didn’t know any better, he would have said he had butterflies, but that never happened before, and it was never going to happen. Besides, he had no clue what that felt like. So maybe he had like… indigestion or something?

He shrugged that off but was then struck again by the idea that you were lonely. You were so lonely that you started crying about it. He’d never seen that side of you before, and he was rattled. It didn’t feel good to hear you cry. Also, you were such close friends, why hadn’t you talked to him about it? Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell him? He wondered if he hurt your feelings recently or if he did anything wrong to prompt your silence on the matter.

He was starting to worry. But a voice of reason came into his mind—that was a private conversation, he told himself, you had no business listening. So keep your trap shut and mind your business.

That would prove more difficult than he imagined.

DREAMS 1 & 2: A weird coincidence

Falling asleep that night took Zoro longer than usual. Your words played in his head like a song on repeat and it was starting to drive him crazy. He remembered that you said, among other things, that you wanted to take a shower with the person you loved and shampoo each other’s hair. He was cursing himself for being so fixated on your words and he tried to force himself to sleep.

He questioned himself—why was he interested in this? What did he think about it? He was borderline pissed off at himself, telling himself to stop being weird about it, and consoled himself with the idea that he could just tell you he overheard the conversation and ask you why you were lonely.

As Zoro drifted in and out of consciousness, finally starting to dream, he found himself in a hot shower. There was someone in the shower with him, but he couldn’t tell who it was because his back was facing them. The shower was so steamy it was hard to see. He realized that the person behind him had their fingers running through his hair, scrubbing—they were washing his hair. It felt like bliss, the soap smelled lovely, and the hot water felt great.

He turned around to see who it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who it was already.

You were standing behind him, suds on your hands from shampoo. Your hair was soaked, and your naked body was glistening wet. You smiled at him, and he could feel his arm reaching out to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

When your bodies touched, warm and wet, his hands slid up to squeeze one of your breasts just briefly. You pulled him into a kiss and your fingers crept into his wet and soapy hair. You hummed into his mouth, and his fingers trailed downwards, grabbing handfuls of your skin… It quickly turned into a sex dream.

He felt himself grind his erection onto your wet stomach and thighs, heard you whine into his mouth and smash your lips on his. His hand crept downwards, reaching into that valley where your thighs met. He slipped a finger between your folds, already oozing arousal. His finger explored, reached further, started to slip into you…

Zoro’s heart was pounding so fast it woke him up. He was painfully hard, disoriented, and panting. The dream was so vivid it felt like it just happened in real life. It was like he knew what your skin felt like, and your lips tasted like, as if his fingers actually felt between your thighs and rubbed on your sensitive spots. He felt every moment of it, he had seen you so clearly…

Zoro never had a sex dream with you before this. He didn’t get those dreams a lot, to be fair, and he didn’t know how to feel other than flustered and confused, considering the fact that you were his “friend”. He palmed his cock and grinded his hand over it through the fabric of his underwear briefly before sleep swept him away again. He was out like a light.

Later that night, Zoro dreamed of you again. This time, he was walking down a busy street through an open-air market. It was loud and crowded; music was playing, and it smelled like spices, baking bread, and roasted meat. Zoro was completely lost in the crowd, but he felt like the scene was missing something. His eyes shifted through the sea of faces and pinpointed you looking at him from the other side of the market, eyes riveted on his. You stood out in the crowd, radiant, smiling softly.

As he made his way through the throngs of people, you caught his eye again and waved at him. He was breathless. When Zoro reached you, you slowly slipped your hand into his and entwined your fingers together. Saying nothing, you brought his hand up to your mouth and gave it a kiss, looking right into his eyes. His heart twisted—it was that same feeling from before, one he wasn’t used to.

In this dream it was like he had tunnel vision. There were hundreds of people around him, but the only thing Zoro could see or pay attention to was you. The world melted away; you were the only thing left. He could feel himself place a hand on your waist and pull you closer. He leaned in to kiss you and you dodged, bringing your lips to his ear instead.

“I love you.” You whispered, your voice hushed, and he could feel your breath on his ear so clearly that it gave him goosebumps. Everything about it felt real. He could feel warmth seep into his core; it was like something bloomed inside of him, flowers letting out tendrils of precious petals and buds, enveloping the pair of you. He was intoxicatingly close to you; it was so real.

Zoro could feel himself about to whisper three words back to you before he started to fall—he woke up with a start. It was like one of those dreams where you’re rocketing towards the ground in a free fall, and right before you slam into the ground you wake up, terrified. But instead of scared, he felt distressed and weird.

Why had he dreamed of you for the first time after hearing your conversation with Nami?

Zoro recognized a possible connection immediately. Was it just a coincidence that he had dreamed about the same scenarios you discussed with Nami? Namely, that you wanted the sort of love where you could shower together, or be with them in public and the whole world melts away?

He was disturbed, to say the least. He was quite perplexed by the coincidence, by seeing you naked (at least, it felt like he had seen you), and by that weird twisting feeling in his chest.

More than that, he was distraught at the idea that he felt himself in his dream about to whisper something to you too, too, something which was blatantly and patently false. Why was he going to whisper those words back to you? It was just a dream, right? It was just a dream.

Thoughts nagged in his head—he was thinking about how fucking gorgeous you were, how serene he felt, and how close you had been. In both dreams he felt like you were staring into him, peering through his irises and seeing his soul for what it was. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on in his head.

Zoro usually wasn’t one to dwell, and so he tried to go with that strategy here, too. Just don’t think about it, he told himself. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.

When the swordsman saw you on deck that morning, his heart did a thumping thing and his body tensed up. He had the irrational fear that you’d go up to him and say, “I know what you dreamed about last night, you perv.” Or something like that. He also had no clue how to interact with you after he had eavesdropped on you and then had two very intimate dreams about you, but he tried to pretend like nothing happened. After all, he couldn’t control what he dreamed about, and you were a friend.

When you walked over to him on deck and smiled at him, he didn’t know what to say to you. “Good morning, Zoro!” There was that charming smile of yours, again. He had seen a lot of it last night.

He responded with a gruff “morning” and waved a hand as he walked upstairs to do some lifts on the upper deck.

A few hours later, you and Nami came out on the lower deck in your swimsuits and started sunbathing. You were lying on two foldy lounge chairs and you had a colorful umbrella over your heads. Sanji whipped up two fruity drinks with maraschino cherries and mini (matching) umbrellas, and it looked like you were having a fun time. There was nothing objectively unusual about this scene, in fact, it must have happened plenty of times before.

Zoro was doing his thing and working out like he usually did. Whenever he did his afternoon routine, sometimes he saw you and sometimes he didn’t. He would smile and wave sometimes when you caught each other’s eyes.

But today, he was preoccupied. He was trying his hardest not to snoop again. He couldn’t hear you at all, other than your giggles and laughs, so that made it easier to ignore you. Your laugh was clear over the crash of waves and his own heavy breaths from exercising. He really liked the way you laughed; it was one of those infectious laughs that bring a smile to other peoples’ faces. He had noticed before that when you laughed, your nose scrunched up a little bit—he thought it was cute.

After hearing bursts of raucous laughter from the pair of you, he snuck a couple glances. This was a bad idea. The view confirmed two things. First, he had a rather superficial reflection—the you from his shower dream and the you in your bathing suit looked very similar. That is to say, he saw your body in a quick glance and had to tell himself to fuck off in his own mind.

The second thing his quick glances confirmed was that something about the conversation he overheard last night changed how he felt about you (hopefully temporarily). He couldn’t put his finger on it… But he spent all day so far thinking about that conversation, trying to break it down and put the pieces back together in a way that made sense.

Why were you lonely? Why did you cry? And who were you referring to when you said it was hard to be lonely around someone? Why didn’t you ever talk about this stuff with him?

You shared so much with him. He knew where you were from, what your family was like, your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite animal, favorite song, the list went on. But you were lonely? And that’s something you didn’t tell him?

It’s not like you had to tell him every little thing. But this felt like a big thing. And he was mulling over the type of love you wanted. The type of love you told Nami about and the scenarios you listed off were sweet and thoughtful, just like you. Hearing you talk about what sort of love you wanted didn’t make him cringe like he thought it would, given that it was lovey-dovey fluffy stuff.

Zoro couldn’t recall a time when you had a conversation about that sort of thing. Maybe once or twice, drunkenly, but those memories were foggy. Why the fuck couldn’t he get you out of his head? Why did he care so much? He was miffed and puzzled.

Dinner that evening went on as usual. You sat with Nami and Robin, giggling and smiling. Zoro tried to listen to your conversation from the other side of the table (he was being self-indulgent, and he knew he shouldn’t have).

He heard Robin speak about her newest archaeological research, Nami spilled the tea about some recent designer shopping scandal, and when the conversation turned to you, there was a moment of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you three exchange some glances, a cocked eyebrow from Nami, a set of flashing eyes from Robin, and a bashful look splayed across your cheeks. He wondered what that was about. Zoro tried to keep inconspicuously observing, but Luffy started shouting about something and Usopp spilled his drink all over the very distracted swordsman.

Sometimes after dinner you helped Sanji do the washing up. Usually everyone would wash their own plates but sometimes no one felt like it, so you gave Sanji a hand. You’d go around and collect the empty plates at the table—and this night, Zoro was still sitting at the table with his empty plate. Chopper was across from him going on and on about some medical incident he witnessed years ago, and Zoro was humoring him. They had the cutest dynamic. Zoro was nodding “uh-huh” and Chopper was enthusiastically gesturing and dramatizing. When you went to collect the dishes, you walked over to them.

“Hi guys, may I take your plates?”

Zoro’s heart did that thing again, that flipping twisting thing. Was he developing a heart arrhythmia? What was up with that? He wondered, troubled.

You scooped up both of their plates. When you got Zoro’s plate, you took a moment and smiled at him particularly sweet. He mumbled out a thank you and returned the smile, but it looked more like a grimace. He was having crazy cognitive dissonance—he was feeling weird, his heart was beating funky, and he felt laser focused on you, more so than usual. He told himself that he didn’t care about the conversation last night and that it was no biggie, but his body felt the exact opposite.

Zoro’s eyes followed your frame as you went to wash up the plates next to Sanji. He noted your pretty hands and the way you cleaned the plates, delicately but thoroughly. He saw the way that Sanji slid over to you and put his hand on the small of your back to lean in and whisper a compliment to you. You shied away but smiled and blushed all the same. Zoro felt a twinge of annoyance at Sanji. He’d have to chew him out later for touching you like that. Fucking creep.

Later that night, Zoro was getting ready for bed. He was shirtless, in sweatpants, lying on the bed in his cabin with his hands behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he contemplated the last 24 hours, trying to process why and in what ways he felt different.

The familiar sounds of your footsteps padded past his open door and he didn’t turn his head to look at you. He had enough for one day, didn’t feel like scrambling his brain anymore. He was ready to go to sleep and forget about the confusion, hopefully it’d all be gone tomorrow. Zoro had just closed his eyes when you backtracked, and he heard a wooden creak as you leaned your body against the doorframe.

“Hi Zoro, how was your day?” You asked, as charming as ever.

His tone was curt, but you could recognize a note of kindness in it, one with which you had become acquainted with in the past few months. You had a short conversation about each other’s days. Before you turned to go back to your room, you wished him “sweet dreams, and good night!”

He scoffed at himself. Sweet dreams, huh? Sure thing. Underneath that urge to push away the confusion, Zoro was tickled that you had come to check up on him. He couldn’t help but notice your pajamas, how cute you looked in them, how beautiful your face was, freshly washed and all ready for bed.

As he fell asleep, he tried to fight off the relentless stream of thoughts that his mind obsessively thew at him. More than anything, he was stuck on this idea that you were lonely, and that it was hard for you to be lonely around someone. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t help but wonder if that someone was him.

DREAMS 3 & 4: A long day at work

Zoro fell asleep eventually and his extreme agitation, he dreamed about you again.

First, Zoro found himself walking through the doorway of a house. He didn’t see much; all he knew was that this was his house. He felt like shit; he was tired, grumpy, and burnt out. As he opened the door, he heard your voice, loud, clear, and light. “Welcome home, handsome.”

You were standing in the foyer, presumably waiting for him. He threw his work briefcase on the ground (apparently he just came home from work?), and you advanced, putting your arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug with your head nestled on his chest. When he wrapped his arms around you, he leaned his head on yours and noticed how soft your hair was.

“I missed you.” You spoke into the crook of neck.

Again, the feeling of something blooming inside of him radiated from his core. Every muscle of his could feel you. He could hear your heartbeat, he noticed when you pulled him closer. When you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss, the negative feelings from his day at “work” melted away.

The whole day was worth it just for this moment. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, you ran a thumb over his stubble, caressing his face... Zoro kept feeling that twisting, thumping, skipping sensation in his core. He felt it when he thought about you.

Lucid thoughts cut through the dreamscape—would you still feel lonely if he embraced you like this? If he pulled you into his arms and held you tight, would that make you feel better? What was this feeling when he thought about you? If he gave his all to you, would you feel better then? Would you stop feeling lonely if he gave everything to you, even his heart?

The dream faded into thoughts of other things. Swords, battles, weights, stress, more Zoro thoughts, etc. But hours later, in the early morning, another dreamscape with you in it materialized.

It was sickeningly real and strikingly intelligible. This dream was not within the list of scenarios that you described to Nami about the type of love you wanted—Zoro’s brain must have concocted it on its own.

Zoro was in a bed, his bed, and pale morning light trickled through half-shut blinders. He heard a door creak open and shut somewhere in the distance. His eyes were almost completely closed, just the tiniest peek of the bedroom and the muted blue-gray it was bathed in. Soft footsteps treaded over to the bed. A blurry figure crouched down, eye level with him. The dream came into focus more—you were inspecting his face while he was half asleep.

“Good morning baby,” you whispered, barely audible. You brought a hand up to pet his hair. He grumbled something in response, an acknowledgement. After a moment, you leaned in and started to adorn and sprinkle his face with kisses, as soft as possible. You brushed and pressed your lips around his cheeks, forehead, eyelids and chin gingerly. Your lips met his again, briefly, the same moment that Zoro drifted out of sleep.

He was awake now, actually awake. The light in his cabin was the same blue-gray that the room in his dream was shrouded in moments ago. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep but he was unsuccessful. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you kissing his face like that and petting his head. Would it be the same?

Why did he keep dreaming about you? Surely all this fuss couldn’t be because he just overheard your conversation with Nami.

He felt tortured. If listening to the conversation was the prompt to you appearing in his dreams, then he just shouldn’t have listened to it. Lesson learned.

< masterlist | part two >

a/n: thank you so much for reading! this is very much a labor of love and has been in the works since september. i hope you like it! <3

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shy-writer-999 · 16 days ago

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yap sesh/check in~~ ^w^

hi friends!! how are you?? i can't wait to post some filth soon! i'm flying back home in a couple days and when ive reached homeostasis i'm going to go apeshit on fanfic. FINALLY.

also, my personal sanji is cheffing me up a meal rn. we are celebrating five years today! woohoo!!! ^_^

check-in question for anyone who will humor me: what's the best food anyone has ever cooked for you, NOT including meals you've been served at a restaurant?

#z yaps #im about to TEAR up this pasta & lobster #when i say sanji i mean sanji #he is veryyyy sanji-esque he is blonde and pathetic and does my bidding and likes it that way LMFAO

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shy-writer-999 · 22 days ago

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110 cm

#roronoa zoro #zoro #one piece #one piece zoro

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shy-writer-999 · 27 days ago

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This man has me in a chokehold

#you gifted us with another masterpiece thank u my queen #YOU JUST DRAW HIM SO WELL ITS UNFAIR #AHHHHHHHHHHHHH #god im so fucking obsessed w him BYE #portgas d ace #portgas ace #ace one piece

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shy-writer-999 · 1 month ago

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Yay!!! I love all of these so much. You always do them justice and capture their handsome sexiness perfectly 🤌 what a treat to collab this month! happy holidays everyone 🩷🩷🩷🩷

The artworks I’ve done for my collab with the amazing @shy-writer-999! It’s been a blast bringing some of the moments from her wonderful holiday stories to life through these drawings. I had so much fun working on this, and if you haven’t already, you have to check out her incredible writing—it’s absolutely perfect!

Here’s her holiday event masterlist! Happy reading!

#YAYAYAYYAYAYAY #one piece #roronoa zoro #zoro #portgas d ace #op ace #sanji #trafalgar law #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar d law #one piece zoro #one piece sanji #one piece ace #one piece law

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shy-writer-999 · 1 month ago

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Keeping warm with Ace - no nut December? 🔥

Summary: Ace half-jokingly declares a vow of no-nut December. When he manages to last a few days, how will the dry spell be broken? ~1.4k words. CW: SMUT! Afab reader w/gendered language (e.g. "princess"), fingering, P in V, dirty talk. Minors don't interact - nsfw content!

Art by the lovely @hirakyun13 (thank you for collabing with me!)

“You only love me so much because I let you hit all the time.”

When he heard your words, Ace bursted out laughing. He feigned a gasp. “Do you have such a low opinion of me, princess?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m jokinggg, Ace. But you sure are rabid recently. Not like I have a problem with it or anything.”

His lips curled into that sweet smile of his as he brought his lips to your cheek. “Well, then. I’ll show you how wrong you are. Let’s see how much you like me not jumping your bones every three seconds. No nut December.”

“Ace,” you laughed. “You’re going to last a day.”

Somehow, though, he managed to last multiple.

---

Ages ago, you booked a holiday trip with Ace. A nice vacation from your lives, a reprieve from the stress and endless list of tasks to do.

The chalet—or rather, cabin—was gorgeous. It felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, in a forest of tall pines covered in heavy snow that weighed their branches down. They would have looked melancholy if it wasn’t for the bright white heaps of snow on the bows to remind you what time of year it was.

Ace’s joke-abstinence no-nut-December lasted until the second day of your extended stay at the beautiful A-frame cabin—so, in total, he lasted a good few days.

He tried his hardest and it was amusing, but really, he could barely keep it together. Boner 24/7. You figured it wouldn’t be too hard to break him, but it was great entertainment to tease him for as long as he could hold out for. Besides, after waiting for a few days you knew that the sex, once it finally happened, would be that much better.

---

On your second day at the cabin—the day that Ace broke his “no nut December”—after a nice long walk in the snow outside (interrupted by a blizzard), you and Ace returned to the cabin and undressed. Time for a shower to warm you to your bones—scalding hot and steamy.

While you showered, Ace lit a fire in the fireplace; he warmed up the blankets on the plushy, king-size bed and then lit a candle.

When you emerged from the shower, hair wet and skin damp, you snuggled up in the blankets, no clothes on (to soak in the warmth that you knew Ace placed there).

“Come warm me up, Ace.” You requested and he happily obliged, like always. ‘Warming you up’ was one of his favorite things, mostly because it just involved touching you. He would take any and every chance he could get. And of course, now that he was at the end of his mini-dry spell, he looked forward to it all the more. Might now be the time to break his multi-day streak?

When he slid in bed with you and pressed his body on yours, his warmth flooded through your body. He got as warm as he could get without being too hot.

It was a double satisfaction for you—getting warm, and then teasing Ace so hard you knew he’d fold like a lawn chair.

He wrapped a hand around your front and pulled you close to him, taking a deep inhale of your freshly washed hair and squeezing you tight to his chest.

You laid there for a while, happy and toasty, almost drifting off to sleep when you realized that you felt something hard pressing onto you from behind. Obviously, it was Ace.

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and snuggled back into him, brushing his hard-on in a way that made his breath hitch. It was easy to play him like a fiddle because he was figuratively on his knees for you every moment of the day. He’d do anything for you and worshipped the ground you walked on.

You pressed back again, harder, overtly deliberate now, and he let out a quiet gasp as he felt your warm skin graze his aching shaft through his underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.” His hand passed down to grip your hip and he rutted his hips, effectively humping you through his underwear. Quiet but deep grunts slipped out of him every couple seconds, and as you felt him roll into you it started to make you feel some sort of way—how could it not?

After Ace rubbed himself on you like that for a while, he started to get more worked up. Unapologetic groans fell out of his pretty lips and his breathing quickened.

A hand creeped downwards, towards the valley where your thighs met. He repositioned you slightly to give himself better access, then slid his fingers inwards to caress your folds and soft spots.

Those rough, thick fingers felt godly when he warmed them up and touched you gently like this. He turned you into a sopping-wet mess within a couple minutes, thighs shaking slightly, and breaths shallow, punctured by the occasional, muted moan.

“Let those sounds out, angel. I wanna hear ‘em.” He whispered in your ear and you could feel his hot puffs of breath on your skin. His fingers plunged in and out, making you squirm as he curved them and spread them inside of you.

Soft moans and sounds of bliss fell from your lips unrestrained at his request. He made his fingers warmer still, and it felt like heaven as he drew circles around your clit then slipped his fingers inside and out again.

After a while, you started to lose focus. You couldn’t tell where his skin stopped and where yours began.

“Ace—I need you,” you managed to choke out.

Promptly flipping you over so you were facing him, Ace pushed your leg up, over his hip, and pulled you into a long, affectionate kiss before he brought his throbbing shaft out of his boxers and started to line himself up with your entrance.

When he sunk you down onto his length, your eyes rolled back in your head, not in jest this time but in pure pleasure.

Immediately, Ace started to thrust his hips upwards in small jerks, fucking you shallowly and slowly.

“Fuck—you’re perfect,” Ace groaned and bucked his hips deeper, sliding deliciously into you and passing over your hot spot.

Every few seconds he greedily pulled you into a kiss, and each time your lips met in increasing desperation.

His grip on your hip tightened. It was almost painful now. As he thrusted into you faster, he started to moan into your mouth, deep groans that went straight to your core and vibrated your lips ever so slightly.

Too many presses of his girth past your g-spot and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ace, I’m gonna cum soon,” you gasped, and he slammed into you particularly hard, pressing on the spot he knew would make you feel the best.

“Do it, baby,” his hips rocked into and wet noises echoed in your ears. “Show me, ah, fuck, s-show me how good I make you feel.”

Ace slammed into your g-spot again and it sent you reeling headfirst into your orgasm. White-hot pleasure jolted through you, radiating from your sticky, pulsing core outwards to your limbs where it stalled in tingling zaps of bliss.

You couldn’t tell, since you were lost in the crushing weight of your climax, but your toes curled the hardest they had before, and you writhed on Ace’s cock so hard that it made him cum.

His body seized up alongside yours and his heartrate threatened to explode out of his chest. Deafening groans—one of the best parts of having sex with him—escaped his lips as every muscle in his body went taught. “Fuuuuhhhhccckkkk.”

When you were done floating through bliss, there was quite the mess to clean up. But, ever the gentleman, Ace told you to just lay there and not move a muscle. He got you cleaned up then went back to spooning you and keeping you warm.

oh my GOD, the piece becca (@hirakyun13 / @becca-oak ) drew has me literally drooling. also she sent this fic idea to me so she's really holding this whole piece on her back rn. please check out her page and drop a follow!!! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

if you liked this fic, check out my masterlist and the masterlist for this short holiday event! 🎄🎄🎄

merry christmas & happy new year!!

#i need him BAD #the way his hands look here makes me wanna bark #portgas d ace smut #portgas ace smut #ace one piece #one piece ace #fire fist ace #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #ace one piece smut #z's holiday event

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shy-writer-999 · 1 month ago

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Ice skating with Law ❄️ (fluff)

Summary: When Law takes you on an ice skating date, he can't help but show off both his feelings for you and his skating skills. ~950 words. CW: Fluff! G/N language. Kissing. Holding hands. Sweet stuff!

Artwork by @hirakyun13 - thanks so much for collabing with me!

“Just hold on, I won’t let you fall.” Law held out a gloved hand to you and when you laced your fingers with his, he squeezed your hand in a gesture of comfort and security.

The ice was bright. Glaring sun reflected off its smooth surface, marred in places by the tracks that metal blades drew on top. The ice rink was empty except the two of you, the clearing in the forest was gorgeous and quiet, the sky was bright blue—it was picturesque, dream-like.

As Law guided you across the ice, you wobbled a bit.

“You’re favoring your right foot,” Law pointed out, looking down at your form while you struggled to keep up with his already-slow pace. “Make sure to put your weight evenly on both skates and lead with both interchangeably. Good form means you can do cool stuff later.”

He smiled at your look of dismay (it was quite endearing to him). You groaned. “Aghhhh. Okay. Like this?” Your adjustment looked adequate enough to him and he nodded.

The only thing audible after a while was the smooth sound of your skates moving almost in tandem with each other, cutting the surface of the icy rink.

“You’ve been skating since you were a kid, right?” You asked Law and he nodded.

“Yeah, I went when I was growing up a lot with my parents and sister but… After… Well, you know. Certain circumstances meant I didn’t make a habit of it for a long time. It was only when the Heart Pirates formed and got more comfortable in the North Blue sea that we had time and safety to do that sort of stuff. To have fun, I mean.”

Some silence passed. Comfortable silence. You slipped and almost fell, but Law held you up. As you looked up at him, he cracked a smile.

“See? You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

He blushed. It had been a minute since your faces were this close. When you were back to skating after your almost-wipeout, you felt steadier and more confident.

“There you go,” Law encouraged. “You’re getting the hang of it. That was fast.”

A few laps around the rink with Law holding you steady and he decided you’d be set to try it on your own. “I’m going to make you do it yourself now. You ready?”

When you agreed, you skated side by side for a while. It was a gorgeous day and every ray of sun that reflected off the ice surface of the rink and onto his face made your heart flip. He was so handsome it was mind boggling. When light filtered onto his hair, you saw how rich the color of those dark locks was. Multi-dimensional and stunning. Just like his eyes. And while you quietly remarked on his beauty to yourself, he did the same for you.

“You can do cool tricks, right?” You asked him playfully after a while.

“You’re not going to actually make me do some, are you?” Law responded, frowning. He hated this sort of thing. He felt like a clown. But… if you were asking, then he’d have to oblige. Anything for you.

He begrudgingly put on a little show. He was obviously comfortable on the ice, skating backwards for a bit before doing some sort of cool twisting thing. A jump and a fast turn. It was impressive.

“Woooowwwwww,” you clapped when he came to a stop next to you. “That was crazy impressive. What else can you do?”

You smiled at him, and he froze for a second, turning crimson. You saw his gears turning.

“How about this?” Law asked, then reached for your hand and softly pulled you towards him. When you were close enough, he placed a hand on your waist and pulled you into a kiss.

He certainly caught you by surprise. It had been a while since you locked lips—circumstantially, you didn’t have much time for it on the ship.

Any opportunity for affection or quality time was treasured. Ice skating like this and taking a break from everything on the sea felt like a vacation, a reprieve from every painful wound you both held. If you thought about it long enough, you would have realized that this was the first actual date Law had taken you on.

When he pulled away from the kiss, you were both smiling. “I mean, that wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’m not complaining,” you giggled.

“Well, if you’re not complaining then, by all means,” Law brought a hand to your cheek and guided his lips to yours again.

His kisses were delicate. After a few moments, he pulled away. His cheeks were dusted pink with blush and his hand stayed on your cheek for a minute as he took in the sight of your face, so pretty and so close to him.

“Let’s take a break,” Law said. “That sound okay?”

When you agreed and exited the skating rink, Law set up a place for you to sit together. A waterproof blanket below, a fuzzy blanket on top, thermoses of spiked, piping-hot cocoa, and some snacks.

You snacked together and warmed yourself to the bone with the hot cocoa. It was a picture-perfect set up, thoughtful and considerate just like Law himself. After more skating and a snowy trek back to the Polar Tang, the crew couldn’t contain their excitement seeing you and the captain hand in hand with ruddy cheeks. They had matchmaked for far too long—now that it was a reality, they were elated.

They welcomed you back on board the submarine with the most embarrassing and raucous round of cheers and chanted “kiss! kiss! kiss!” to rub it in your faces. You did, in fact, share a kiss in front of the crew, something that they never let you live down. You didn’t mind it all that much, though.

that's all for this one!! make sure to check out becca's page, since she's so damn talented it isn't fair - @hirakyun13!

here's my masterlist if you're interested, and the masterlist for this holiday event. tysm for reading :3

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