#benn beckman wives army

[jintaka-hane]

@walmartmihawk!! I did it!!! You have no idea how much fun it was writing this for you!

Ladies and gentlemen! Come get a ride with our favourite FIRST MATE!

A TRIP TO THE ONSEN

Masterlist

Img source / Img source

Summary: Your crew convinces you to join them for a relaxing trip to an onsen. When you arrive, you find out the women’s section is closed due to maintenance issues, and you're forced to use the men’s area as a mixed bath. What could possibly go wrong? Word Count: 2800 Notes: Beckman x f!Reader, forced proximity, nudity but not very explicit, Reader is shy, Beckman is a gentleman, Red haired pirates are assholes XD

As you stepped into the men's changing room, you considered turning around and walking right back out the way you came. 

The place couldn’t be more different from the clean, orderly women’s changing area, with its wicker baskets arranged in perfect harmony on symmetrical shelves, and its pristinely rolled, white towels ready for use. No, the room you found yourself in, thanks to the sign that read, due to a facilities issue, we kindly ask you to use the men’s pool as a shared space, was a far cry from that. 

The clothing of the current occupants—your crew—was strewn across the room in a careless mess, distinguished only by loosely categorized piles according to ownership. Each pile was a disaster of  balled-up t-shirts, trousers with one leg inside out, and a pair of used boxers, briefs, or trunks, perched proudly on top.  You let out a heavy sigh, recognizing your captain’s floral trousers, and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the first mate’s cloak.

Were you really prepared to share an enclosed space with your crew members, as they had been brought into the world? The answer was a resounding NO. But the thought of sinking your body, aching after so many nights sleeping in a hammock, into the soothing waters of the onsen was too tempting to resist. Besides, you had an infallible plan. Slip in quietly, draw no attention, and position yourself as far away from them as possible.

You wrapped the largest towel you could find around your naked body, then placed your hands on the swinging doors that led to the pool. With your eyes closed, you took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pushed the doors open... only to come face-to-face with Yasopp’s ass as he sank into the steaming, shimmering waters.

The mere sight of the sniper’s bare backside left you blushing, so you marched forward in long strides, avoiding any eye contact, carefully stepping around the towels your crewmates had scattered along the wooden edge of the pool.

“Hey! You made it after all!” Shanks called out with his forearms rested on the edge of the pool to get a better look at you.

“Yes...” you mumbled, clutching tightly at your towel and rushing past him as quickly as you could. Beckman wasn’t far away and greeted you with a slight, elegant nod, a gesture you shyly returned.

When you reached the farthest side of the pool, –and definitely not the prettiest, with a large pipe in plain sight on one of the walls—you sat down carefully on the edge making sure your towel wouldn’t betray you at the worst moment. With a calculated move, you let the towel fall onto the wooden floor, and quickly slipped into the pool.

The moment the mineral-rich water touched your skin you felt relief wash over your sore muscles. You dipped your head beneath the surface, letting the hot water relax your face and scalp, and as you emerged you opened your eyes, only to find your entire crew staring at you. A flush crept up your cheeks at the attention, so you discreetly turned away, lifting your arms out of the water to rub them as if you were busy cleaning.

"Roo, stop staring at me," you shot, picking a random scapegoat as you felt all the men’s eyes glued to your bare back. Beckman was quick to react, giving the cook a good smack upside the head, splashing water on a few of the nearby crewmates.

“Ow!”

"Stop looking at her," his deep voice commanded, stern and reprimanding. "And you too," he added, smacking Limejuice on the back of the head too.

"Huh? Punch is doin' it too!" the long-haired blonde complained, pointing an accusing finger at his larger friend.

Shanks chuckled heartily and leaned in toward the first mate, speaking in a low voice, “Come on, Beck, give them a break. Don’t tell me you didn’t take a peek yourself.”

The first mate turned his back to you so you couldn’t see, then flashed a cheeky grin and mouthed, 'I did,' causing the rest of the crew to crack up.

For the next few minutes, they left you alone, allowing you to settle into the little haven of peace you’d created at the far corner of the pool. You focused on your own relaxation, letting the warmth of the water soothe your body.

“Oi” Yassop’s voice broke through the peaceful silence. “The owner said there’s a cold pool next door, and a bar close by. Who’s up for checkin’ it out?”

Everyone but Beckman nodded, and they began to climb out of the water, offering you the rather embarrassing sight of a row of bare backsides as they completely ignored the towels waiting for them. You dipped your head under the water again, staying submerged until they had all left, which they thankfully did quickly — as they always did when a bar was involved — sparing yourself from having to choose between a death of embarrassment or by drowning.

"How’re you doing, darlin’?" you heard the first mate’s warm, baritone voice the moment your head broke the surface of the water.

His back was pressed against the side of the pool, arms casually draped over the edge. You noticed how his broad shoulders lifted just a touch, strained with the position. His wet, silver hair was tied back in a loose, low ponytail, and beads of water trickled down his neck. You swallowed hard, silently grateful for the distance between you, knowing that your nerves wouldn’t handle being too close to him. 

“Fine,” you replied shyly, sliding into the water until it reached your chin. 

Beckman opened his mouth to say something more but then shut it, his sharp eyes narrowing as they shifted from your gaze to a point behind you. You heard a faint hiss of pressure at your back and turned, realizing that the massive pipe protruding from the wall was vibrating slightly.

“Darlin’, something’s not right…”

“What—” you turned to look at him. His body was tense and alert, the water now at his waist.

The pool’s swinging doors burst open, and the onsen’s owner rushed in, wearing a mask of panic as his hands clutched his head. 

"THE PIIIIPE!!! It’s going to explode!!!" he shouted, clawing at his face. "You, the strong one!" his finger pointed at your startled first mate. "Try to contain it until I can close the valve! The water’s extremely hot, and if it blows, you’ll be scalded!!"

And with that, he disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

Beckman, a competent man used to urgent commands, sprang into action without a second thought. He pushed off from the edge of the pool, water splashing everywhere, and grabbed his towel tying it in a loose knot around his waist. Then he raced toward the massive pipe behind you while you stared in shock, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, unable to react to the sight of the first mate, sprinting half-naked toward you.

When he reached the pipe, he felt it with his hands, locating the exact point where a joint was giving way, and pressed on it, straining with all his might to hold back the increasingly vibrating pipe.

“Shit, shit, shit…” he muttered to himself, bending slightly to apply more pressure with both hands. He lowered his head, mumbling incomprehensible words until a perfectly clear “FUCK” reached your ears.

“What? What’s going on, Becks?” From where you stood, all you could see was his wet back, taut with the effort. 

“Darlin’… I’m afraid I’m going to need your help here.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else. You always followed your first mate’s orders, no matter how peculiar or awkward the situation. So putting aside your shyness, you scrambled out of the pool, knotted your towel tightly at your chest, and rushed to help him.

“Where do I need to press?” you asked as you moved closer, trying to ignore the striking muscles of his lower back peeking out from his towel.

“Right at my waist.” 

“W-what?” your voice sounded a bit higher-pitched than usual.

“My towel…” he explained as calmly as he could, “it’s slipping, and I can’t let go of the pipe. You’ve got to hold it for me.”

“O-okay,” you lifted one hand, reluctantly, and extended your index finger to press it against the towel on one side of his adonis belt.

“Darlin’, it’s slipping on the other side too…”

“...Okay,” you repeated as you robotically moved your other hand to the other side of his hip, your face so close to his back that your nose nearly brushed against his defined shoulder blades.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” you lifted your chin to fix your gaze on the ceiling.

You hadn’t been in that position long when you heard him curse again, his hips shifting under your hands, tense and nervous.

“I think there’s another loose joint,” his rough, deep voice said. “Let me check…” He crouched down, arching his wardrobe-like back, and you stepped back to avoid bumping into him. “Yeah, damn… there’s another leak. Darlin’, you’re gonna need to help me contain it.”

“How?” your voice quivered.

“Get in front of me, hold the pipe where I tell you with one hand, and keep my towel in place with the other.”

“Okay…”

You let go of one side of his towel and moved to his side, waiting for instructions. He looked at you with his eyes framed by those characteristic deep lines, and with a nod, he motioned for you to tuck your head between his arms. You complied, wedging yourself between his massive body and the pipe, your back practically touching his chest.

“Right there,” he instructed with a tilt of his chin. 

You placed one hand where he directed, and pressed firmly.

“Now the towel.” 

Keeping an eye on the pipe, you awkwardly fumbled at the lower part of his abdomen, trying to find the edge of his towel. Not finding it easily, you turned your head towards him, coming face-to-chest again with his massive, muscular frame. Your cheeks flamed red as you felt his stomach tighten under your hands, your fingertips tracing the line of his happy trail until you finally found the towel.

Beckman knew you were a very shy person, and at that moment, he felt an intense wave of guilt for putting you in such a compromising position. 

“Darlin’, I am so sorry ab—”

“—Beck,” you interrupted, noticing the pipe shaking and dripping dangerously from the other side. “I think I need to use my other hand to hold the pipe on that side too…”

He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before nodding.

“Alright… do you think you can hold my towel with your knee?”

“... I-I’ll give it a try.”

You released his towel and turned so that your body faced his. Then, you extended your arm as far as you could to cover the new leak, successfully sealing it. Feeling proud that you had managed to control the situation, you lifted your leg—perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm—toward the first mate’s groin.

“Hey,” he chided, jumping slightly in surprise at the speed of your approaching knee. “Just… be careful.”

“Sorry,” you slowed the movement, pressing your knee gently against the towel just below his navel.

Seconds stretched into eternity in that position.

Beckman, in an attempt to be as polite as possible, turned his face away to give you some space, exposing his X-shaped scar to you. The situation was extremely uncomfortable and awkward, but you both were convinced that any moment now the onsen owner would come and tell you he had managed to close the valve.

But of course, anything that can worsen, will. So barely a couple of minutes had passed, when you heard Beckman curse again, his body twisting and his arms trembling.

“Darlin'...” His gray eyes locked onto yours.

“Huh?” 

“The pipe... ah, damn,” he grunted, shaking his elbows frantically but still gripping the pipe, large beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “It’s too hot. I—I can’t keep holding it. It’s burning my skin.”

Your lips parted in alarm.

“What do we do, Beck?”

“I’ve got an idea… “ He cleared his throat. "take my towel off, so I can use it between the pipe and my hands.”

“What?! No, Beck…” You felt your pulse quicken.

“Got a better idea?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm, his eyes flicking quickly to the knot of your towel at your chest. You followed his gaze, then looked back at him. 

“Oh, NO. No, no, no—”

“My towel, then,” he insisted.

You swallowed hard, and removing one hand from the pipe, nervously traced the edge of his towel until you found a corner to tug on.

“Sorry,” you whispered, causing him to let out a laugh that rumbled through his chest.

“Oh, I'd way rather have you see me naked than lose my hands, Doll”.

You forced a shy smile onto your lips and, with your eyes fixed straight ahead, gave the towel a quick yank to pull it free.

"Alright," he said with endless patience, "now you're gonna need to crouch down a bit to get it around my hands."

This time, the smile didn’t come.

You simply gave a curt nod, squeezed your eyes shut, and crouched down, feeling him step back to give you space. After you helped him protect his hands, you straightened up as fast as you could, extending your arm to cover the pipe again, avoiding letting your peripheral vision wander too far downward.

And so, there you were, standing directly in front of your bare and broad-shouldered first mate, arms outstretched, each hand firmly gripping a pipe. 

“Could be worse, you know…” Beckman grinned, trying to joke as he noticed the sweat beginning to form on your brow.

"How?" 

"We could be dealing with sewage."

You weren’t sure if you were about to faint or burst into a nervous, hysterical laugh. You didn’t get the chance to figure it out either, because at that moment, you felt the knot of your towel begin to loosen around your chest.

"Oh, Beck..." you groaned, your voice shaky and weak. "I can’t… I can’t do this anymore. I—"

“What’s wrong, Darlin’?” His eyes darted between yours.

“My towel… the knot… I don’t know what to do, I-I can’t…” you said, tears threatening to spill over. 

Beckman couldn’t stand to see you suffering. As first mate, his duty was to protect and care for the entire crew, and the sight of your doe-like eyes full of desperation broke his huge heart. So without asking for permission or thinking twice, he did the first and only thing that came to mind. He shut his eyes and buried his head in your cleavage, growling as he gripped the knot of your towel with his teeth just as it was about to come undone.

You stood there, frozen, blinking several times as you tried to process what was happening. And just at that precise and convenient moment, you heard a group of familiar male voices cheerfully making their way back.

The doors swung open and the room fell into a sepulchral silence.

Your heart started thudding in your chest, and your blood rushed to your temples, your face turning a fiery deep red as you couldn’t contain your embarrassment.

"Well, well, Beck…" you recognized the unmistakable mocking voice of your captain, singing out with a teasing grin. "So you wanted her all to yourself, huh?'"

Beckman grumbled against your chest, and when you looked down, you saw that his ears were even redder than your own flushed cheeks, the contrast with his pearl earrings making them stand out even more.

A smile started to tug at your lips, and it quickly transformed into hearty, uncontrollable laughter at the thought that, for once in your life, you weren't the most flushed person in the room.

..........................................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita <3

[jintaka-hane]

🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

*Sigh* I-I... Oh, Becks, tsk tsk tsk you naughty naughty boy...

@fanaticsnail, the fucking 👑 QUEEN of the mixture of tension and comedy did it again!!!

Oh, girl! I laughed so much at some parts... And I gulped so hard at others!!! Also, I ADORE your hability to find possible professions on a ship, and the value and dedication of your characters to their profession.

L-O-V-E I-T.

Thank you for this 😘 😘

PS: Becks sub... Becks sub, snail....

Hair Pulling: Benn Beckman

Birthday Party Masterlist

Word Count: 2,600+

Themes: Benn Beckman x gn!reader, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, kink, hair pulling, insertion sex, oral sex, Sub!Beckman x Dom!reader. First-Mate x Barber.

Notes: It is @jintaka-hane's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy your beautiful day, and may Beckman getting his hair pulled spark some joy and illuminate your celebration. So much love for you 🖤

Sitting at your workstation, you began rolling and folding the fresh batch of towels you purchased from the town the Red-Force was currently docked at. The fluffy material felt so foreign in your hands after using your well-worn and crusted cloths for your crew for so long. You couldn’t wait to spoil your crewmates with the new fabric, truly relishing in your job when you were not called to arms in defense of your captain, Shanks.

As the crew barber, it was your job to ensure your crewmates kept themselves as neat and tidy as they desired to be. Whether it was maintaining a goatee, some shadowing on their cheeks, a suave manicured lip and chin, or a rugged scruffiness suited to their liking: you were to keep them in perfect order. Haircuts and styling was also in your repertoire, and you wore that title well.

There was only one member of your crew that had yet to seek out your services for himself. Keeping in the quiet, shearing his own cheeks in the morning, neck and chin littered with small nicks and cuts at after a morning scrub in the bathroom, was the broody first mate.

Hunched over the itinerary captain Shanks had curated for their departure, he leaned his hips on the railing with a scowl on his lips.

Placing down the last folded towel, you withdrew your straight razor and leather hanging strop from your satchel. Checking over your blade for any notches or cracks in need of honing, you blow gently on the silver side of the knife. Holding your blade steady, you gently glide the silver along the stretch, conforming to its curvature along the surface with little resistance.

Benn Beckman was a friend to you, truly enjoying your company in the still of the night when the crew slumbered. As first mate, it was his duty to keep his captain and crew safe. He was both the first and last line of defense for the redhead, and often had little time to dilly dally with his crew. In that quiet, you would often recall small moments traveling together on the seas. Your soft laughter marrying his whispered chuckles was music to the crew, putting them at ease while they slumbered.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you were not attracted to him. Sure, your Captain and the Doctor had their charm, but Benn Beckman: first mate and dutiful death dealer was where your eyes found their perch.

Being simply friends, you assumed he would have approached you by now to do your job on his features. Just a quick tidy of his jawline, trimming his graying locks, giving him a treatment for the sea-sprayed ends - but he never did. Not once. Not a single time.

Narrowing your eyes at him and pursing your lips, you examined his recklessness littering his cheeks with drying blood and crusted sores. Almost scowling at it, you were yet to notice the approach of your crewmate taking a seat in your chair.

“Hey Barber, got a spot for me in your station?” Yasopp queries with a smile in every word, “Can I have a quick tidy up?”

“Course you can, Sharpshooter,” you laugh with him, gently brushing off your chair and reaching for one of the freshly rolled towels. “It's what I'm here for. Just a shave, or rerolling your coils?”

“Just a shave for now. The dreads can wait,” he nodded his head and eagerly plonked himself down at your station. “I've never had a shave as near as yours before. Even when it grows back, it's more manageable.”

“Thank you, Yassop. Now just shut your eyes, lay back, and let me do what I need to do on you.”

“Aye, Barber.”

Watching from his position reclining against the wooden panels, Benn Beckman’s lips drew slack. The filter end of his cigarette lay glued to his lips while they parted in awe. Each glide of the blade over Yasopp’s skin coincided with a gentle tug or maneuver of his scalp to guide him to an appropriate repositioning.

“You're doing it again, Becks.”

Shanks plopped himself alongside the railing beside the first mate, giving him a playful tap on the shoulder in the process. Beckman let's put a soft grunt and continues glaring at the scene unfolding in front of him. You were halfway through the shave now, gently holding idle chatter between yourself and Yasopp while you tidy him up.

“I'm not doin’ nothin’, Cap,” Beckman grumbles, taking a hefty drag of his cigarette. Shanks chuckles, following his eyeline and darting his gaze between Yasopp and you together.

“Why don't you just go up and take a seat,” Shanks suggested as if it was the easiest course of action to take for the big guy, “You really messed up your general scruff. Looks like you angered a pather. Go on. After Yasopp, it's your turn.”

Beckman snaps his gaze over towards Shanks at the thought, blaring into him with his darkened eyes filled with rage.

“You know damn well how I feel about my hair gettin’ touched.” Beckman warned him, his voice hardened with a mixture of warning and confession laden within, “I don't want our barber to do it for me, because I know it'll change the way they see me. Don't wanna do it to them.”

“Just focus on something else, Becks.” Shanks offered in a tone of jesting, index and middle fingers on his right hand walking up his forearm, “You know? Not like you haven't thought of ‘em tugging your hair when you're alone in your quarters.”

Beckman sends Shanks a glare that he has only ever seen a handful of times, who in turn raises his hands defensively. With a small chuckle, Shanks backs away from the broody first mate with a playful smirk.

The gray-haired first mate continues to watch you as you finish your work on Yasopp, wiping off the sharpshooter’s face with a towel. Giving him a playful trace of your fingers along his jawline, you send him from your chair and begin to sanitize it for the next use.

Looking over from your point above the deck of the red force, you could've sworn you caught the first mate’s eyes as he gazed over from his recline against the rail. His thumb met the filter end of his cigarette and pressed it in a sizzle within his iron ashtray.

“Beckman?” you gather your courage to call over to him, finally refusing to let this little dance go on any longer, “Come and see me tomorrow, you hear? Need to fix up your razor, and I've got a balm for you to use tonight.”

Benn Beckman freezes in place, a static-like shudder frizzing from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Without much force, he apprehensively sighs out a little, “Aye, that I will.”

Smiling to yourself, you prepare a cube of solid ointment in a tin for him, hoping the balm would aid in the healing for a closer shave, and to halt any scarring or pore blockages from occurring and getting itchy.

The following day, Benn Beckman found himself in your chair. A dark cape was casually draped around his neck, tucked in a towel and buttoned at his collar. The aroma of aftershaves and foaming cleansers lingered as you massaged his prickly scruff with your fingertips.

He could barely focus on your conversation. Whichever topic that graced past your lips was white noise to him. While he often found himself easily lost in conversation with you, he was now wholeheartedly focussed on one thing, and one thing only.

Trying not to cum.

Your hands so easily maneuver his head around, skilled fingers cleaning up his face and ridding him of his spindles protruding from his chin. In his head, it was an eternal argument as to whether he was to tell you how worked up he was, and how long he had been without coupling with a partner, or simply ignore how you made him feel while wholeheartedly enjoying the experience.

He had been to barbers before, and none of them made him feel this worked up over a simple pampering. Paired with the fact he adored you, and he was lost completely to the feeling of your fingers on his skin.

“You want a trim while I'm at it?” he hears you ask. He hadn't had the heart to decline, sparing both himself and you or his shameful joy at the touch. Instead, he closed his eyes and uttered a soft, “yes,” while his cock twitched against the crotch of his pants.

“You have such pretty hair, Becks,” you compliment him in earnest, reaching for the woven band holding his locks within, “If you don't mind me saying, of course.”

“N-Not at all,” he stuttered out, wincing as your hands dragged down the tight coil and freeing his strands from their confines. You take his small flinch as discomfort, but it could not be further from his experience.

Beckman was trying not to picture how you would look straddling his face, guiding him by those skilled hands. Tugging and pulling harshly to have him pinpoint your bliss, having him consume your ecstasy with his vigorous and unrelenting mouth while you held onto his hair.

Carding your fingers through his salted and peppery strands, you found yourself cooing at the way each fistful felt in your hands. He was so pliant, listening to your wordless directions as you angled him to find an appropriate position. Scissors handled carefully to chop at the damaged ends, you continued humming out your praise at the first mate.

His pulse quickened and breath hitched at the way your words and actions truly moved him.

Where your lips curved out: “Your hair is so volumous, I can't get over how you manage to trap it in that band,” Beckman heard, “Your hair feels perfect in my hands, let me trap you in my lap and fuck you.”

Spilling out gentle praise and manageable instructions: “Move to the side, good job. Just like that, Becks,” Beckman’s mind morphed it into, “Fuck, you’re doing such a good job for me. Keep going, good boy.”

Each roll of his neck guided by a tug to his scalp, his eyes rolled back beneath fluttering lashes. His cock continued to twitch and move against his seams at every motion, everything occuring below the belt against his will. He hated himself for reacting like this, for hearing your voice guide him and move against his skull so easily.

At one more sensual tug, his voice entangled in his jugular and caused him to shudder his jaw. You halted your actions immediately, truly believing you had caused him discomfort.

“I'm sorry. Did I hurt you, big guy?” Your concern was laden in your tone, only aiding in expanding his cock to a pulsating rod to pitch the tent in his pants.

“No, Darlin’, I'm alright,” he uttered with a breathy chuckle to follow, “Just not used to bein’ manhandled like this is all.”

“You're used to being in charge. I get it,” you chuckle down at him playfully, giving his hair a soft tug as you did with the others aboard your ship, “You're in my chair now, sweetheart. Gotta listen close to me, or I might accidentally pull on something I shouldn't.”

Both of you were surprised by the needy whine that fled from Beckman’s throat, your hands fleeing immediately from their grip on his hair and discarding your scissors in the tray beside you. You took a moment to steady yourself, your infatuation rising for him in your gut and swelling in need up to your throat. The way he moaned for you was pornographic, and your mind ran with that to a point where you personally had to halt your job to breathe through the feeling.

Beckman knows there's no disguising it now. He has a kink, and you had inadvertently made yourself subject to it by your actions. His mind was already attempting to accumulate an apology to you, thanking the stars that Shanks had conducted an away mission to enjoy a bar in town himself with the crew.

As you stepped towards him, he immediately drew his eyes to find your own. Expecting you to be peering into his soul, gaze filled with rage at the use of you pulling on his hair and fanning the flames of his lust, he saw your eyes immediately flung to his belt line.

Noticing your eyes draw down to his cock, shrouded by the dark covering laid on his lap, he was unsure as to where your mind found itself wandering.

“Benn Beckman,” you whispered softly, a softness rising in your tone. Reaching for the loose strand dangling over his eye, you tucked it behind your ear and purred at him, “You have a thing for hair-pulling, don't you?”

His apologies jumbled and merged into one large stuttery mess. His cheeks rose in hue and illuminance the longer he attempted to recover from your accusation. Each tumble and stutter he elected to present to you was met with a knowing and teasing look down your nose at him.

“Oh, Becks,” you cooed down at him, scrunching up your nose with a soft light in your eyes, “Is that why you haven't come to see me? Something as simple as a little tug on the ponytail gets you all hot and bothered?”

Beckman’s blush rose higher, his head practically seething with frustrated vapors. Just as he was about to open his mouth to growl at you for your comments, you hushed him with a few simple words.

“If you'd have told me about this earlier, we could've had some fun with it,” you shrugged, eyes immediately thereafter growing wide at your blazen disregard for indescression, “I-I mean, if you like me like that-... I mean�� if you don't… I… I didn't-.”

“-Are you done with the cut?” Beckman immediately cut you off, his face no longer glaring with his uncertainty and fury.

“I… well, yes, sir,” you nodded, lips sucked into your mouth to stifle their quiver. Beckman reached up to the collar, tugging at the buttoned seam and releasing the cape from shrouding his broad body.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Just as simply as that conversation began, you found yourself with the broody first mate tangled in his sheets and crying out beneath him. Your legs were over his hips, your entrance stretched and molding to his shape the longer he split you open with his thick shaft. Slow and sultry drags of his cock within your body propelled you to a higher plane of bliss. He huffed and panted in the crease where your shoulder met your neck, whining out as you tugged on his freshly trimmed and manicured ponytail.

His hips grew staggered in their languid thrusts, feeling his enevitable release finally stampeding towards the finish line. Your own need was pooling in the pit of your stomach, swelling up and beginning to bloom in your chest. Your breaths came out in heady pants, and you reigned him towards his unravelment by pulling hard on the back of his hair.

“Cum for me, big boy,” you whisper needily, Beckman’s resolve shattering as he unleashed his pearlescent ropes of thick cum deep within you. Calls of your name on his tongue spur you into your own ecstasy, riding through the coursing waves as he buried himself down to the hilt within you.

Both you and Beckman were once again thankful that Shanks and the remainder of the Red Force crew had left you both in isolation to enjoy exploring Beckman's preference for having his hair pulled.

From then on, he was adamant on having only you shave his cheeks and trim his hair to keep him pretty. Even better were the times you did it naked, his cock nestled deep within you and being told to keep still so you don't make a mess of his handsome features with a straight razor and your scissors.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

🎶Happy birthday to me🎶.

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[jintaka-hane]

I'm writing a new Benn Beckman's fic.

I am currently at 2000w and I'm just like.... taking pauses, leaning back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose and inhaling and exhaling deeply...

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck

When I write about this man I forget how to breathe 🫠

(and when I write about Kid I just want to scream and punch walls... another type of love I think 💕)

[jintaka-hane]

The Night Off

You: Oh! *Shanks catches you off guard and pins you against the wall*

Shanks: I’ve missed you… *buries his face in the hollow of your neck and kisses you*

You: Shanks wait, please… *you place your hands on his chest and push him away*

Shanks: What's wrong, sweetheart? *he looks at you*.

You: Shanks… I... I've met someone… and I don't feel comfortable doing this any more…

Shanks: Ooooh, oh… *he releases you*

You: I'm sorry, Shanks.

Shanks: *sad smile* ... well... I figured this would happen sooner or later...

You: I'm sorry...

Shanks: Don't be... I guess this is the price to pay for not having had something serious with you.

You: Don't overthink it, *caressing his cheek* it just... happened…

Shanks: And who...? Do I know them?

You: Yes. You know him…

Shanks: Who is it?

You: Why do you want to know?

Shanks: *wants to know if he's better than him* ... curiosity.

You: I'd prefer to keep it a secret until we decide if we want something serious.

Shanks: Ok, I understand…

Gently kissing his cheek, you leave him lost in his thoughts.

...

At that moment, Beckman emerges from his cabin, clearly freshly showered, smelling of aftershave, and dressed in clean clothes while drying his hair with a towel. He is humming a cheerful tune with a smile, something completely uncommon in him.

Beckman: Hey boss, can I have the night off?

...

[jintaka-hane]

Raisins

Masterlist

Img src

Notes: Benn Beckman x brat f!reader. This is a stupid idea - gift to my lovely @fanaticsnail, to give her some comfort and encouragement regarding the last glimpse into her life. Beckman isn't very good in the kitchen, but he does is best 💕 🚬 Word count: 800 Summary: When you're hungry, you're a grump. And it's even worse when they bring you things you don't like.

Ever since Lucky Roux had dislocated his shoulder, nobody cooked aboard the Red Force, and the red-haired pirates made do with whatever they could scrounge up from the galley to survive.

You found yourself in there, hungry and grumpy, scouring for a snack. Provisions were running low, and a group led by the ship's second-in-command had just returned from resupplying ashore.

As you rummaged through the pantry for something to munch on, Benn Beckman strode into the galley, a cigarette clamped between his lips as usual.

"Feelin’ a bit hungry, are we?" His muscular scarred arms flexed as he lifted the weighty shopping bags onto the table. Each one seemed to weigh a ton, but it didn't appear to trouble him.

"Yeah, and there's nothing here…"

“Don't worry, darlin', I've bought yer favorite cereal for breakfast."

Eagerly, you pounced on the shopping bags, seeking the prized cereal box. Your hands landed on a square cardboard container, which you swiftly pulled out. As you gazed at it, disappointment clouded your face... Cereal with raisins, the product name read.

You loathed raisins with every fiber of your being.

With a frustrated expression, you glanced at Beckman, unable to hide your annoyance.

"Seriously?! With raisins?!”

He snatched the box from your grasp and examined it.

"Guess I mistook these brown things for chocolate,” he said shrugging his shoulders and handing you the box again.

“I hate raisins, Beck!!" you shouted, throwing the cereal container onto the table.

“Come on, doll, I’m sure it doesn’t taste that bad," he was calm, his cigarette still in his lips and a wisp of smoke curling from it.

You huffed in response, aware that your reaction wasn't the greatest. But frankly, you detested raisins and the idea of having to eat that crap for the rest of the week infuriated you beyond measure. You couldn't hide it.

As he observed your spoiled reaction his own irritation threatened to mirror yours.

“Easy now, don’t be like that,” he tried to stay composed, “next time I’ll buy others”.

You didn't want to listen. You stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut without even saying goodbye.

"Spoiled girl…", he muttered angrily, shaking his head, “ungrateful brat…”.

You spent the rest of the day on deck, attending to some of your duties. Beckman was nowhere to be found, and you still felt yourself quite angry enough to seek him out and talk to him. Your reaction was somewhat irrational, but you couldn't avoid it.

Nonetheless, you felt a hint of sadness and guilt within you. After all, the first mate was your favorite person on the ship, and you never used to argue.

“Hey, do you know where Beck is?" asked one man.

"No clue," another replied.

"Last time I saw him, he was busy in the galley," you heard someone else say.

You remained occupied, tending to your tasks throughout the day. As your hunger intensified while working, you contemplated pilfering something from the pantry.

You made your way to the galley, a familiar scent of tobacco wafting through the crack of the partially closed door. You reached for the knob to push it, but halted abruptly upon hearing the voice of the vice captain muttering grumpily from inside.

“... don't know why the fuckin’ hell I bother ...”.

Your hand released the doorknob, and you decided not to enter; you weren't going to confront an angry superior. You turned on your heel and made your way back to your duties, resigned.

Three hours later, your stomach growled like a sea monster from the Grand Line.

"Screw it, I'm going to eat that crappy cereal".

You headed to the galley again, finding nobody there. You opened the pantry, grabbed the cereal, a spoon, and a bowl, and sat at the table with a sigh. Pouring the cereal into the bowl, you took a closer look at it and to your surprise, there were no raisins. They had been removed and replaced by meticulously sliced chocolate bits.

You rose immediately and made your way onto the deck in search of the first mate, the spoon still in your hand.

“Beckman!!!”

You saw him standing at the prow, his expression grave as he concentrated on securing a line with a sailor's knot.

“I’m right’ere”, he answered crankily.

Glancing at his hands, you noticed that his fingers were speckled with tiny flecks of chocolate.

"Did you remove all the raisins from the cereal?!"

“... aye,” he mumbled without looking at you.

"By hand?"

“... aye,” his focus was still on the rope.

"And chopped bits of chocolate for me?"

“That I did,” he replied, still avoiding your gaze.

You rushed towards him, leaping into his arms, causing him to drop the rope, which fell to the ground as he caught you. Enveloping him with your arms, you started giving him little kisses all over his face.

“Forgive me, I am sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you”.

“... it's a’right,” he responded, slightly embarrassed and trying to conceal a smile.

“... And… thank…” you said, unable to stop pecking his cheeks, “… you”.

“... anytime, darlin',” he hugged you tightly against him.

From the bowcastle, a group of men were watching you.

“Beck!!" One of them shouted, laughing, "she got you wrapped around her finger, huh?”

Without letting go of your embrace, Beckman shifted his gaze towards them.

“GET BACK TO FUCKIN' WORK!!”

--------------

Taglist: @i-am-vita @gingernut1314

[jintaka-hane]

Two Days

(Beckman x f!Reader)

Masterlist

Img source / source

Summary: You and Beckman have been navigating a long-distance relationship for a while. Now that he's docking at your port, you’ve got two precious days to reunite and reminisce about the day you first met — a dreadful evening when nothing went as planned. Word Count: 5735 Notes: This is my contribution to 'The Great Beckmaning'! It was a looooooot of fun to write, and I'm considering writing about what happened after the tavern brawl, hehe. My gift for the Beckman’s wives army! Warnings: Mild NSFW, father!beckman x mother!reader, established relationship, one sided enemies to lovers, shanks being silly, misunderstanding, longing, kissing, petting, domesticity, fluff, mentions of alcohol, guns, cigarettes, swearing, mention of pregnancy.

"You sure you can manage without me?" a familiar look of concern crossed the first mate's face.

"For the fifth time, Beck, YEEES!" bellowed the pirates of the Red Force in unison.

"I've left some instructions for—"

"Beck! We'll be fine, trust me!” Shanks said, avoiding the note he was handing and pushing him down off the ship.

“But… the hole in the starboard bow needs—”

“AYE!! SHOVE OFF, BECK!”

"A’right, a’right…. behave yourselves..." he looked at the captain, "especially you”.

"Enjoooooy! Don't worry about aaaanything… and give her my regards," Shanks added, clumsily winking.

And the second in command of the Red Force disembarked, unsure of what he would find upon his return.

It was a port he knew like the back of his hand, in a fishing village neither too small nor too large, populated by smiling and friendly folk.

He walked through a bustling square where locals sold their wares—a display of colorful fruits, fresh fish from the morning catch, and an eclectic array of handmaded items. In one corner, a quaint bakery beckoned with the tempting aroma of freshly baked pastries. He entered and bought the ones he thought you would like the most.

With the bag in hand, he continued down the street until he reached a modest yet charming house. He grasped the doorknob and turned it, the familiar creak of the door indicating that it was not locked. With a gentle push, it swung open.

He had warned you countless times about the importance of locking the door and securing your home, yet you never seemed to heed his advice. However, he wouldn't scold you this time. Not when it had been three long months since your last meeting, and he only had two precious days to enjoy your company.

"Y/n?" He called out to you, but there was no response.

His steps carried him first to the kitchen. He placed the bag of pastries he had purchased upon the counter, a surprise awaiting you. As his eyes scanned the room, he noticed that the wooden frame of a window needed repair, and that the pantry door wasn't closing properly. He would attend to that later.

He then made his way to the living room where he found you. Your graceful form was reclined upon the couch, peacefully lost in slumber. The way your hair spilled over the cushions, your chest rising and falling in rhythmic breaths, and the flawless complexion of your face adorned with a faint smile in repose, rendered you truly breathtaking. A pang of longing gripped his chest, proof to the months he had spent yearning for you. But these two days together would surely mend any distance between you. 

Beside you laid a beautiful baby girl, her eyes wide with innocence and curiosity as she gazed up at him with a smile.

"Here you’re, little one. I've missed you," he murmured, scooping her up into his arms and holding her close. With care, he raised her up to meet her gaze, marveling at the sight before him.

“So pretty... must have inherited your mother's genes, otherwise I wouldn't believe it with a father like me...".

The baby giggled at him, reaching out to touch the x-shaped scar on his face, but then her expression grew serious, her cheeks flushing red. Beckman chuckled as he noticed a peculiar odor beginning to permeate the room.

"Ok, ok, let's change ya," he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

He carried her to the bedroom, where he knew all the diapers and baby wipes were kept. With utmost care, he cradled the baby in one arm while using the other to retrieve the baby changer from your dressing table. Placing the baby, who giggled once more, in the changer, he gently removed her clothes and diaper. With ease, he cleaned her with a wipe, dried her tenderly with a soft towel, applied cream, and secured a clean diaper in place.

It was a curious sight to behold Benn Beckham, a rugged pirate of the seas known for his strength and fierceness, handling and caring for a delicate baby with such tenderness.

Once the baby was dressed, they made their way to the kitchen, disposed of the soiled diaper, and returned to the living room. Beckman settled into a rocking chair beside the couch, cradling the baby close. He hummed a sea shanty as a lullaby in his deep voice, stealing glances at you from time to time, careful not to disturb your slumber. 

Farewell to the harbor, To my old hometown

Lets all sing out with a Don! As the ship sets sail

Waves of gold and silver dissolve to salty spray

As we all set sail to the ends of the sea…

Gradually, the baby's eyelids drooped until her eyes closed entirely. A smile graced Beckman's lips as he watched her drift off to sleep.

"Sleep tight, princess," he whispered tenderly.

Then, sinking back into the chair, he studied you thoughtfully. How was it that you had never left him all these years? You were a stunning, independent, and strong woman, and he couldn't help but wonder why you had remained by his side. In a town filled with men eager to win your affection, you had never once betrayed him or hinted at parting ways. Perhaps, he mused, this was love after all... And the fact that he returned to you every time he had the opportunity was his way to show you that he loved you back. And he always will.

As he admired your poised figure, memories of the day you had first crossed paths flooded his mind. What a chaotic mess it had been...

*** *** ***

It was shaping up to be a real wretched day. Shanks, in his usual state of inebriation, exhibited an unusual level of clumsiness, leaving him feeling like a caretaker tending to an unruly child. Whenever the captain sank into such a state, the crew inevitably followed suit, burdening him with additional duties both aboard and ashore. Having remained docked in the same port for a week, their departure was scheduled for the morrow, yet Shanks, in his folly, proposed a return to the tavern they had frequented the day before. Once more. The man seemed insatiable in his thirst for drink, oblivious to his prior excesses. With a sigh, Beckman acquiesced, resigned to another evening spent in the tavern...

The evening unfolded in customary fashion at the bar, with men swaying clumsily to the music and belting out off-key tunes. The crash of shattered glass echoed through the room as drinks slipped from careless hands, earning disapproving glances from the tavern's owner. Finding solace in a secluded corner, he ordered a pint of ale, lit a cigarette, and scanned the room in search of distraction.

Idiots, the lot of them, he mused.

His gaze wandered until it suddenly fixated on something that caught his attention. Across from him, nestled in a quiet corner, sat an intriguing woman, effortlessly beautiful and serene amidst the chaos. Engrossed in a book, she sipped at her drink, while a bag of pastries from a nearby bakery lay at her feet.

Must be one hell of a book to keep her absorbed in a joint like this.

He chuckled softly, entertained by the improbable sight of such a striking lady amidst the tavern's humble surroundings. She seemed to be alone. Could she perhaps provide him with some stimulating company for the evening? Surely, she would be the most engaging conversationalist in the room. It was worth a try.

However, before making any advances, a habitual reflex led him to gauge his captain's interest in her. His eyes swept the room until they settled on Shanks, who was engrossed in merriment with Roux and the others, urging him on with raucous cheers of 'Drink! Drink! Drink!' 

Well, he thought, it seems she is mine for the takin’.

With a nod to the barman, he summoned him over.

“Boy, fetch that lady another round of whatever she's havin’. Put it on my tab,”' he instructed. The boy acknowledged the order and set off to fulfill it.

He observed from afar the woman's reaction when she received her pint of stout, the way her eyebrows arched in surprise. She glanced toward him as the barman gestured in his direction. Meeting her gaze, he raised his glass in greeting, only to receive a disdainful snort in return before she returned her attention to her book.

Darn. Not the smoothest start...

He felt a mixture of irritation and intrigue, but he was reluctant to come across as the sort of man who embarrasses himself by persisting in front of a woman's indifference. So he made an effort to brush it off, attempting to ignore her and the way she had rejected him with such disinterest.

As he tried to shift his focus, his mind wandered to the tasks awaiting him before the next day's departure. He made mental notes to check the main mast, which had been damaged in an attack, and ensure that the cargo was securely arranged, wary of any imbalance that could jeopardize the ship's stability.

He hadn't been listing his tasks for even five minutes when he noticed that Shanks had also become aware of the presence of the woman and was approaching her, stumbling toward her table with an oversized grin. With a gesture he likely deemed elegant, he extended his hand.

"Evenin’, sweetheart. I've come to rescue you from the clutches of boredom that book must be inflicting upon you. Care to dance?"

"Get lost," she shot back without even sparing him a glance.

Beckman chuckled.

The red pirates howled.

Shanks placed a hand over his heart, feigning heartbreak, then turned to the crew and erupted into laughter with the others.

“Bad luck, cap’n!!” one man shouted. 

Turning back to her, Shanks remarked, "Well, I'll take that as a no, then. What are you drinking? Want another?"

"No, thank you" she replied firmly, and to further encourage him to depart, she added, "I've already been offered a beer by another man," smiling proudly at her own response.

"Oh? Is that so? I must be late then... And who might this gentleman be, sweetheart? I'm curious," he pressed.

With an air of indifference, she slowly pointed in his direction, causing him visible discomfort.

Shit. 

Shanks and the entire crew turned their attention to him. Shanks's eyes widened, and after several moments of silence, the room erupted in laughter once more.

Despite knowing Shanks well enough to understand that his actions were not intended to ridicule him, he couldn't help but feel exposed and irked by the situation. 

"Well, let's all raise a glass to our first mate!" Shanks declared, breaking the tension. "MAY HE BE LUCKY!".

"HEAR, HEAR!" echoed throughout the room as everyone raised their glasses, some of them whistling.

The captain turned once more to the woman, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Then, with a broad grin, he directed his attention back to Beckman, raising his fist with his thumb pointed upward and offering a clumsy wink. And with that, he rejoined the men, who erupted into cheers.

Beckman pinched the bridge of his nose. As a man who valued the discretion of his affairs, he couldn't shake off the sense of shame engulfing him.

Perhaps he should go and offer an apology on behalf of his captain, then simply leave her be. That would be a good idea... so he did just that, approaching her table and pulling up a chair to sit beside her.

Drawing nearer, he couldn't resist stealing a better look at her. Her lips and delicate complexion caught his attention. His gaze inevitably wandered to her curves, wondering what it would be like to lose himself between those thighs. His thoughts took an improper turn, thoughts that he knew would trouble his sleep that night. Shaking off them, he reminded himself of his purpose: a simple apology. But before he could utter a word, she spoke nonchalantly.

"You never give up, do you?"

A tough one. Attractive and pretending to be out of reach, a good combination.

He left the chair on the floor and kept a calm smile.

"Doll, I just wanted to apologize for-"

"Doll?" She raised her eyes, interrupting him. "Fuck off, you drunkard. I hate pirates, you are all scum".

His smile faltered as her words caught him off guard.

"For someone who despises pirates, you speak like one, woman," he said, and glancing at the four empty glasses on the table he added. "And drink like one too..."

She shot him a lethal glare, and he raised his hands in surrender. "A’right, a’right, I'll leave you be."

Disappointed, he made his way back to his table. He was taking his seat when he spotted a group of men entering the tavern, armed and wearing expressions of menace. Their faces twisted into grimaces that spoke of hostility and a readiness for conflict and it appeared that they outnumbered their own group.

Not good.

They advanced through the crowd, shoving people roughly, taunting them, snatching their glasses and draining them defiantly in front of their angry stares. Tension hung thick in the air... and it reached a breaking point when one of them seized a chair, hoisted it into the air, and without giving anyone a chance to react, brought it crashing down onto Yassop's back. He cried out in pain and cursed.

"What's wrong with ya, ya scurvy dog?!"

Fuck.

The atmosphere grew heavier with tension, fists tightening, jaws clenching, and guns aimed at one another. Beckman instinctively reached for his rifle, drawing it from his sash. 

"Beck? You still with us?" Shanks called him out, staying calm.

"Right 'ere".

“Please, no slaughter!" shouted the tavern owner.

Briefly, Beckman’s thoughts drifted to the lady, now frightened and huddled against the wall with her eyes fixed on the distant exit door, unattainable and out of reach. She was trapped. With long strides, he placed himself between the crowd and her, a protective barrier.

"Stay behind me”.

Damn, if she wasn't even willing to talk to him before, she surely would never want to see him again after what she was going to witness.

As one of the pirates moved toward him with a knife in one hand and a broken bottle in the other, intent on attacking, Beckman plucked the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers and flicked it toward one of his eyes. The ashes danced through the air with a spark before landing on their target. 

“Don’t get cocky”.

And then chaos erupted.

*** *** ***

Back to the present, his mind wandered back to the same question that haunted him every time he saw you. What if he quitted everything and chose to stay with you? Didn't he deserve some happiness? He liked his life at sea but missed you terribly. And the baby, she surely needed him; as her father, it was his duty to raise her. But would you want that too? After all, you chose your path, and he, his…

Did you even need him? Perhaps not... he knew you managed perfectly well on your own. However, the red-haired one did need him and maybe that was the main reason he wouldn't bring himself to stay. No, for now, he couldn't stay, and both of you knew that, despite the yearning you held for each other.

Maybe one day... in the future... he could sort things out, he could even ask you to be officially his wife -would you accept?-, and build a home for your family, far from the dangers that came with a price on your head.

He rose from his seat and carefully placed the baby in a cradle that had been placed in the living room. Then, he made his way to the furthest window of the room, opened it to prevent bothering the baby with smoke, and retrieved a match and a cigarette. With practiced ease, he lit it and took a drag, inhaling deeply as he stared out of the window.

You opened your eyes, taking a few seconds to focus your gaze until you saw him. His unexpected presence caught you off guard.

A smile spread across your lips as you admired the sight: his broad shoulders outlined against the light, the curve of his neck, the way his now slightly gray hair was tied back in a ponytail... Throughout the years, he had continued to dress simply, wearing a black shirt and a yellow sash in which he usually kept a weapon. A tough and threatening appearance concealing a kind heart and a good man.

Relishing in the moment, you continued to observe him as memories of the day you first met flooded back. What a disaster it had been.

*** *** ***

You were enduring a dreadful day. 

You had poured an entire year working very hard to open a bookstore, spending all your savings and efforts on finding a location, negotiating prices with suppliers, and advertising to make yourself known in the town. It was months of hard work and effort and it had only been a week since you opened. While business could have been better, you were not doing badly.

But that morning all your dreams were dashed, a group of pirates stormed into the town and set fire to several shops just for fun. From your bookstore, you could only save one copy, the one you happened to have in your bag at that moment. 

You HATED pirates.

Seeking solace, you went to the tavern to have a drink and give your brain a break. You were overthinking too much about your future and were exhausted and moody. You wanted to be alone, so you didn't doll up—no makeup, no provocative dress, nothing—to keep idiots away from you.

As you sat there, already on your third pint of black beer, a group of pirates swaggered into the tavern.

That's all I needed... A bunch of brutes... And they're already drunk? Not surprised. 

You considered leaving the tavern, but no, you weren't going to be driven out by a bunch of thugs. You just wanted to relax a bit, and those drunkards didn't seem like a real threat. You thought that if you pretended to read the book you managed to save from the fire, no one would try to approach you, so you seized it and set it on the table.

Until now, with the rush, you hadn't had a chance to inspect it. Flipping it over, you were met with a cover depicting a suggestive scene—a blonde-haired woman in a purple dress, her knee on the lap of a sun-bronzed, bare-chested man, unmistakably a pirate, while lavender-hued letters announced:

'How to Seduce Pirates, Part 2 (Take Him to Bed)"

A flush crept up your cheeks.

Seriously? Out of an arsenal of nearly 3000 books, I could only save this one? 

Surely, it wasn't the kind of book you'd want to find yourself reading in a setting like this… but there was no other choice.

The atmosphere crackled chaotic, a symphony of raucous voices and clinking glasses filling the air. Men, their movements awkward and uncoordinated, swayed to the music, their off-key singing punctuated by the sharp sound of breaking glass. 'Drink! Drink! Drink!' they chanted, their voices rising above the chaos.

Amidst the tumult, maintaining the pretense of reading became an arduous task. You sighed deeply, the book in your hands a shield against the uproar. Not even five minutes had passed when the barman addressed you.

"Here you have, ma'am," you glanced up at the boy, noticing him set a beer on your table and gesture towards the man who had ordered it: a pirate, of course. A tall one, with black hair tied back in a ponytail. He smiled kindly at you, lifting his drink.

You really weren't in the mood.

What an arrogant prick, how dare he disturb me like that? I'm not even going to thank him...

You snorted and redirected your attention back to the book. But glancing at the pages, your mind tricked you and started conjuring up images of the man.

Alright, he's attractive, I'll give him that. With that black t-shirt barely covering his chest. 

That chest...

Maybe I'm being stubborn and could just talk with him... that might help me forget my problems... even if just for the night… I could rip off his sash in one pull and see what's underneath...

NO. 

He's a pirate. 

Absolutely not. No way. Never.

You were lost in your thoughts when a red-haired man with a big smile stumbled over to your table. With a clumsy movement, he extended his hand and addressed you.

"Evenin’, sweetheart. I've come to rescue you from the clutches of boredom that book must be inflicting upon you. Care to dance?"

How? And why? Can't they leave me alone? 

"Get lost" was the best reply you could muster. 

The man put on a little show to make his friends laugh.

“Bad luck, cap’n!!” one man shouted. 

Turning back to you, he remarked, "Well, I'll take that as a no, then. What are you drinking? Want another?".

"No, thank you" you replied firmly, and to further encourage him to depart, you added, "I've already been offered a beer by another man".

"Oh? Is that so? I must be late then... And who might this gentleman be, sweetheart? I'm curious," he pressed. 

Oh, that black-haired man was going to regret bothering you. With an air of indifference, you slowly pointed in his direction and watched as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The lines of expression beneath his eyes grew deeper and against your will, you thought he was really cute like that. 

The red-haired man and the entire crew turned their attention to the uncomfortable man and after several moments of silence, the room erupted in laughter once more.

"Well, let's all raise a glass to our first mate!" 

Ah, the first mate.

"MAY HE BE LUCKY!"

He won't be, not with me, anyway. 

"HEAR, HEAR!" echoed throughout the room as everyone raised their glasses whistling.

"He is a good man, sweetheart, don't be scared of him," the man whispered in your ear before leaving with his friends, who greeted him. You were a bit shocked and didn't know why, but you sensed that that drunkard meant no harm.

Well, you sighed, not like I am changing my mind. Having already chased away two of them, I'm sure I can continue drinking in solitude. 

But you were mistaken, because two minutes later you felt a presence scanning your body.

The first mate. 

With a chair in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, a strand of hair falling over his face.

Oh, for god’s sake…

"You never give up, do you?" you threw at him without taking your eyes off the book. For a moment, you felt him hesitate.

"Doll, I just wanted to apologize for-" 

"Doll?" You thought he was mocking you and you exploded, a surge of hatred resurfacing in you. You had tried today to go unnoticed and failed miserably. The memory of your ravaged bookstore brought tears to your eyes, yet you fought to restrain them. And moreover, you felt guilty for being drawn to this man. All you wanted was to distance yourself from him and continue drinking alone.

You did direct your gaze upward, very much upward, honestly, how tall is he? to look at him.

"Fuck off, you drunkard. I hate pirates, you are all scum".

You flinched at your own words and regretted them immediately. Too harsh, even if you wouldn't take them back now.

"For someone who despises pirates, you speak like one, woman" he said, glancing at the four empty glasses on the table he added. "And drink like one too...".

Fair point.

You gave him a deadly look and he raised his hands, defeated. "A’right, a’right, I'll leave you be”.

He turned away and walked off from you, while you stood there wondering if you had been too harsh. Your thoughts were interrupted as you spotted a group of men entering the tavern.

Great, more pirates, you thought, all the same crew, you supposed.

They were armed and wore expressions of menace, appearing unfriendly and eager for conflict. 

They advanced through the crowd, shoving people roughly, taunting them, snatching their glasses and draining them defiantly in front of their angry stares. Tension hung thick in the air... definitely they were not the same crew.

In a moment of escalation, one of them seized a chair, lifting it high into the air. Without a moment for anyone to intervene, it came crashing down onto the back of another man. His cry of pain mingled with curses as he writhed in agony.

"What's wrong with ya, ya scurvy dog?!"

The tension in the air thickened, fists clenched, jaws tightened, and guns leveled at each other. 

You stood up, visibly worried about your safety. Your eyes flickered to the exit door, tucked away in the opposite corner of the room and blocked by the crowd of pirates. It was going to be impossible for you to escape from that place. Where could you possibly go, or hide? 

"Beck? You still with us?"

Beck.

"Right ’ere," he answered.

“Please, no slaughter!”

In that moment, you caught sight of the first mate, holding a rifle in one hand and a cigarette still dangling from his mouth, moving toward you as though he intended to shield you.

"Stay behind me," he said over his shoulder.

Damn, minutes before, you didn't even want to talk to him, and now you just wanted to see him again.

As a pirate moved toward you, intent on attacking, the man protecting you plucked the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers and flicked it toward one of the pirates' eyes. The ashes danced through the air with a spark before landing on their target. 

“Don’t get cocky”.

And then, the hell started.

*** *** ***

Alright, enough with the nostalgia, you thought, bringing your focus back to the present moment.

Restraining your urge to run towards him and jump into his arms, you pondered over what would be the most fitting greeting for him.

"Benn Beckman, you have balls to smoke near the baby in front of me," you decided to say to him, your arms crossed.

He turned towards you immediately, initially taken aback by your confrontational tone, but relaxed when he saw your face. Leaning his elbows on the windowsill, his eyes locked onto yours as he raised the cigarette to his lips and took a defiant puff.

"Well then, c’mere and try to take it from me".

You stood and approached him, attempting to maintain a serious expression. Raising your right hand, you tried to pluck it from his lips, but he was quicker, lifting it with his hand out of your reach. You huffed in frustration, grabbing his shirt and pushing him down pretending to go kiss him. He smelled like a mixture of tobacco, salt, seawater, and damp wood. As he leaned down to kiss you, you seized the opportunity to snatch the cigarette from his fingers just as your lips were about to meet.

With your prize secured, you dashed away down the hallway chuckling at his puzzled expression. He pursued you immediately, his steps echoing in the hallway as he closed the distance. Before you realize, strong arms enveloped you, lifting you by the hips effortlessly.

“Gotcha”.

Turning you gracefully in mid-air, he spun you around to face him. You giggled as you encircled his waist with your legs and clasped onto his shoulders, steadying yourself.

“I think you have something that belongs to me,” he said with a raspy voice.

You raised your hand, the cigarette poised between your fingers, teasingly moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue. 

“Do you mean this?” 

With deliberate allure, you took a drag before exhaling the smoke slowly, your eyes locked onto his.

“No, this,” with a hunger born of desire, he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss.

You released the cigarette from your grasp, allowing it to fall to the floor. Without hesitation, he swiftly brought his foot down upon it, extinguishing the ember with a resolute stomp.

He swept you into the kitchen, his lips still crashing into yours, before carefully seating you on the cool surface of the dining table. With your eyes shut, you remained oblivious to where you were until the chill of the table beneath your thighs prompted you to open them and take in your surroundings. You barely had a second to look around before you felt Beckman’s fingers touch your chin, drawing your mouth back to his again.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and heard him growl softly. You smiled at this, your hands tracing the contours of his back until they grazed the yellow fabric cinched around his waist.

All the while he devoured your lips, you began untying the sash, a task that with practice, you had learned to do quickly. The moment it came undone, it slipped from his waist and dropped to the floor. Then, pressing your hand against his chest, you broke the kiss, your lips parting to catch your breath.

"How much time?,” you asked.

"Two days”.

"Okay," you replied without complaint or further inquiry. Both of you knew that arguing about it would only cause pain and frustration, as there was nothing that could be done. 

Slipping his hands beneath your shirt, he began to caress the skin of your stomach, his fingertips sending shivers down your spine. "Enough time to put another child in this beautiful belly”.

You huffed and tried in vain to shove him off. “Don't you dare, Benn Beckman”. He chuckled and started kissing your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck, and you thought you heard him mumble we’ll see against your skin.

He pushed your legs slowly, spreading them to make room for your bodies to embrace. When they reached the limit, his hands moved to your small back and he pulled you firmly towards him. You gasped at the resolute movement.

“C’mere”.

A stray lock of hair escaping from his ponytail tickled your face, and with the tip of your fingers, you attempted to tuck it behind his ear, only for it to promptly slip out again.

"Where is the boy?" He asked between kisses, unable to separate his lips from yours or his hands from your back.

"Out. Playing with some friends," you managed to say.

"Mmh,” he adjusted his position to center his body with yours, his legs firm against the dining table. “One day I must teach him to fire a gun,” he mumbled.

"He is… only four… years old, Beck”

“Mmmh,” he murmured absentmindedly, his attention focused on the task of urging your body to recline upon the table's surface. You surrendered to his gentle push, letting him guide you until you were lying on your back, utterly exposed to him. 

He took a moment to observe you, his gaze lingering on your swollen lips and your chest panting beneath him. You were a sight to behold.

“Fuck, look at you... you’re beautiful…”

His fingers lifted the edge of your skirt and tenderly traced the curve of your thigh, from knee to hip. A warmth began to spread wildly through your lower body as he kissed your neckline, unbuttoning your shirt impatiently at the same time. You raised your legs, wrapping them around his waist with a firmness that conveyed your desire to pull him closer, molding his body against yours in an embrace of longing and urgency.

“Beautiful and all mine…”

Your back arched instinctively, a silent expression of anticipation coursing through your body. He used this movement to slide his hands under your back, lifting and drawing your body even closer against his.

“Bed? Beck…” 

“No time,” he managed to say.

He devoured you hungrily, his hands looking for the buckle of his belt in a desperate attempt to free himself. Your breaths quickened in unison, your bodies attempting to meld together…

"HI MOM! I’M AT HOME!"

His movements halted abruptly at the sound of a joyful four-year-old entering the house.

Fuck

With a swift motion, you disentangled yourself from his embrace, hurriedly smoothing down your disheveled clothes and tousled hair.

“I’ll take care of you later," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. A promise he’d better fulfill.

--------------

You had sex all night. 

It was an intense session in which your bodies sought each other, embracing and clutching in a dance that lasted until dusk, aiming to reclaim all the pleasure you had yearned for those last months.

Striving to keep both of you hushed, for fear of waking up the kids, he did his best to swallow your moans and stifle his own grunts against your neck, relieving tension in silence.

He whispered praises ranged from the utmost devotion to the dirtiest and most obscene terms, and performed the sweetest and most affectionate caresses intertwined with the most brutal and energetic thrusts.

Every time you reached a peak, with hearts fluttering in unison in your chests, a simple glance, word, or touch reignited a flame that took you all night to quench.

In the soft morning glow, as the sun ascended, you lay in bed, your body exhausted and sore. Your head nestled against his chest, feeling the comforting warmth radiating from his body. He stared at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought, something heavy weighing on his mind.

"Darlin’," he broke the silence. 

"Mmh?"

You lifted your head to look him in the eyes, quietly awaiting his words.

For a moment that seemed like an eternity, he hesitated.

"... you know I'd never smoke right next to the baby, right?"

So, that's what it was.

You couldn't help but smile.

Finding comfort in the moment, you nestled your face against his chest once more, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

"I know, Beck," you murmured softly, your fingertips gently caressing his scarred temple. "I love you."

-------------

Taglist: @i-am-vita @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @lourvedreams @atinymonbebestay @ici-spicy @firefistussy

[jintaka-hane]

Want You Bad

Pt. 1 Right For The Job

Masterlist

Pairing: benn beckman x!reader Summary: Starting a new job is always a challenge, especially when one of your bosses seems aloof and distant with you. What's wrong with him? Is there anything you can do to earn his trust? The story of how Benn Beckman struggles to control his attraction to you onboard. Word count: 1800 Notes: Why do I continue writing about this gentleman? Because I can't stop. This is part 1 of probably... 4. Warnings: forbidden love, oblivious to love, friends to lovers.

"Not bad," you thought, quite pleased with yourself, your eyes darting from one man to the other, trying to decipher what they were thinking.

You had just completed one of the most demanding job interviews of your life, and both the questioning and the practical test had gone rather well.

The rigorous testing and skills demonstration had encompassed various aspects aimed at evaluating your proficiency in maritime knowledge and practical abilities. This included boat handling –from small to medium-sized vessels–, understanding meteorological phenomena and their effects on sea currents, recognizing wind patterns, and managing crisis protocols at sea.

In record time and with a stopwatch in hand, you were required to display your ability to tie various maritime knots, adjust ropes, furl sails, and climb the rigging.

Questions regarding survival techniques and military medicine were also asked, inquiring about first aid procedures: cleaning wounds, disinfecting, stitching up, applying creams to burns and explosion wounds… The interviewers even asked you to apply a tourniquet to one of them.

When it came to social skills, you demonstrated that you were good at connecting with people and working in teams. You had a good sense of humor, and you were loyal if you felt your team was working for a just cause.

And lastly, you showcased your specialty: making precise shots at considerable distances. You adeptly handled various firearms, with your favorite being the revolver for its lightness and practicality. While you were somewhat less enthusiastic about swords, daggers, and other bladed weapons, you could still wield them proficiently when required. You were tasked with shooting at ten different targets, and you effortlessly hit them all without difficulty.

You had, in a manner of speaking, nailed it.

All that remained was for the two men who had interviewed you to deliberate and decide whether you would become part of the red-haired crew, or if, on the contrary, you would have to continue looking for work on other vessels docked at the pier. 

"Thanks, Y/n. Just give us a sec to discuss it, okay?," the captain said, escorting you to the door of the cabin. 

You stepped out onto the deck and settled on a bench, eagerly awaiting a response. To make the wait more entertaining, you retrieved your revolver from its holster and began to clean the gunpowder that was on it. 

The voices of the two men could faintly be heard by the door, but you couldn't quite make out what they were saying. It seemed that if they had to discuss it, one of them was in favor of you being suitable for the job, while the other was not. You could imagine who was who... as during the interview, the captain seemed enthusiastic, while the first mate remained serious and cautious. You just hoped they would reach an agreement soon.

"Well, what do you think? Shall we keep her?" asked the red-haired captain, reclining in his chair and casually placing both feet on the table.

"Not sure, Shanks..." responded the first mate with a somewhat concerned expression.

"Why not? She aced all the tests, she's perfect. Fits right in. It's a yes from me."

"Not sure..." Beckman began to pace slowly around the room, hands behind his back, deep in thought.

"What's bothering you? That she's the only woman on board? I don't think it'll be a problem for the lads, they'll know how to behave... We just gotta lay down some ground rules, and everything will stay in order," Shanks remarked.

"The third shot was almost a miss..." Beckman stopped right in front of the table where Shanks was sitting and looked him straight in the eye.

Shanks lowered his feet, sat up in his chair, and leaned towards his friend, resting his arm on the table. "The third one... and almost... in a job interview where she was probably nervous. Come on Beck, she's one hell of a sniper, Yassop will love her."

Beckman maintained eye contact with his captain, struggling to conjure any objections against hiring the woman. After some pondering, not a single negative argument came to his mind that he dared to voice aloud. The woman was exceptional, and who was he to fight against his captain's eagerness? He let out a resigned sigh.

"Is that a yes?" Shanks' smile grew so wide it almost took up his entire face.

"A’right," he conceded, crossing his arms. 

"Settled then!" Shanks said happily, hitting the table with the palm of his hand. "Let her know. Ask her to pack up and get settled on the ship today”. He rose to his feet and retrieved the cloak hanging over the back of the chair. “I'll talk to the crew to inform the lads”.

“Aye”.

Beckman stepped out onto the deck and found you sitting on the bench, still cleaning your revolver as you waited. Upon seeing him, you immediately holstered the gun and stood up, facing each other. 

An awkward silence hung between you.

With an scrutinizing glance, he studied you, slowly withdrawing a pack of cigarettes from one of his pockets and extracting one. He tapped it against the packet several times, as though he intended to compact the tobacco inside. 

His presence was imposing. You observed his rifle snugly secured to his sash, its stock pointing upward and aimed towards the ground. With just a quick glance, you could tell it was a good gun, and you wondered if he would ever let you shoot it.

He cleared his throat, and your attention snapped back to his eyes.

"The captain wants you to settle on the ship today," he said, calmly placing the cigarette in his lips after speaking.

"YES!" You jumped and clasped your hands together in excitement before immediately realizing your lack of professionalism. "...I mean... thank you!" Your smile was broad.

He withdrew a match and struck it, the flame flickering to life. With a practiced hand, he brought it to the cigarette, shielding the flame from the wind to prevent it from extinguishing. For a moment, you considered lifting your own hand to assist him. 

"Go fetch yer things; we'll set sail by mid-afternoon," he added, taking a deep drag.

You already had all your belongings waiting at home. Being a natural optimist, and fairly confident that you would impress them with your skills, you had packed your bags in case they set sail that same day. Your luggage wasn't many, nor were they numerous, as your possessions were scarce being a practical woman who liked to constantly change places to discover new horizons. A bit of practical clothing to allow you to move with agility, some slightly more formal dresses for special occasions, the two or three books you liked the most, and the heaviest to carry: your set of firearms.

"Alright, see you in a bit!" Turning around gracefully, you hurried down the gangway to disembark from the ship.

“Don't be late”, he ordered, exhaling the smoke slowly.

“I won't!”, you shouted without a backward glance.

He watched you sprint down the gangway and leap onto solid ground. You began to run along the pier and, for a moment, you stopped and turned around to see the magnificent galleon from afar. The ropes meticulously fastened, the wood clean and varnished, the cannons stowed yet poised for any confrontation; and the sails, proudly displaying the fierce image of the skull with red stripes crossing its left eye socket. You couldn't help but smile, unable to contain your happiness.

Your new home. 

The enthusiasm on your face gave you an air of innocence that could melt even the most cold-hearted man, Beckman thought, as he rested his arms on the ship's railing, watching as you drifted further away from the ship.

You were enchanting ...

Too enchanting ...

Too enchanting for him ...

And that 's what had made him hesitate. 

His foremost duty as first mate was to ensure the safety of everyone aboard, a task demanding a steady hand and a clear mind in challenging situations that could arise at sea. And he excelled at it, remaining physically and mentally composed when precision and concentration were required. He had a knack for focusing without being sidetracked and that's why Shanks and the rest of the crew relied on him.

Yet, during the interview, his concentration had wavered, his attention captured by every movement you made, captivated by the curve of your shoulders and the line of your neck as you aimed your revolver, resolute in hitting the target. Despite his extensive experience with women, he had never encountered one who, with just a single glance, could distract him so completely.

And that was a problem.

You would be a distraction.

You would be his distraction

But that wasn't reason enough to reject your application; it was his problem, not yours, and under no circumstances would he tell Shanks the truth behind his reluctant behavior, as it would only result in him laughing in his face. It was clear that you were an incredible woman, skilled in various nautical arts and prepared for combat… it was just right to accept that you were perfect for the job.

He should only maintain his professionalism and control his emotions while working with you, and perhaps ... perhaps as the days unfolded aboard, this attraction he felt for you would fade away. You would be like a challenge to him.

Shaking his head, he headed to the upper bowcastle where Shanks was delivering a speech to the men.

"Damn, if we'd crossed paths in a village tavern where I could've let loose, things would have been mighty different," he mused.  He would have scrutinized your expertise in a field entirely different from the one you had been interviewed about, with a mattress serving as the stage for the trials.

Upon reaching the spot where the men gathered, Shanks paused and glanced at him, nodding slightly as an indication for him to come up and stand beside him. Stepping among the crew, he climbed the stairs and positioned himself next to Shanks, putting his hands on his pockets as he surveyed the men.

"... and that's why nobody's, and I mean nobody, is gonna get all lovestruck over her or lay a finger on her...”

Beckman rolled his neck to loosen the muscles and relieve some tension.

“... No peeking, no hitting on her, and definitely no making her feel weird; we'll treat her with respect and keep our mitts off her, got it?"

The men buzzed with excitement at the prospect of a new shipmate. It had been ages since they'd welcomed fresh faces aboard, and they were ready to seize any excuse for a celebration. Beckman observed the scene, inhaling and exhaling smoke from his lungs with a feigned calmness.

“Hey Yassop, looks like they've got you an intern!", Roux said, giving his friend a playful slap on the back.

“I hope she can handle her booze!”

Limejuice shook his head. “Ah, yeah, that is a must, not like the last one...”.

The breeze started to softly sway the rigging, indicating that the afternoon would be favorable for sailing just as they had anticipated.

“Get ready lads! We set sail in the afternoon!”

-------------

Tag list: @i-am-vita @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 in case you're interested!

[jintaka-hane]

Hello!! I cannot believe I have only just followed you. I thought I'd been following you for ages!!

Now we're moots 🥹🖤🖤

Hope you have a wonderful day 🖤🖤

Heyyy!!! I have a snail moot!! I am the luckiest person in Tumblr! Your stories pushed me to write again and I am so grateful for that 💕

We live in the antipodes but share the same passion!

Have a wonderful day you too 😊

[fanaticsnail]

Why, Mister Beckman. You are certainly helping me through my sorrow this night 😩👌.

(I watched X-Men '97 episode 5, and I am not okay)

Damn, Baby boy 🥹 *fuck u betta by mister chase intensifies*

[fanaticsnail]

Just a question have you ever written for Beckman

Yes, and I love him ✋😩✋ Very much a loud and proud member of the Benn Beckman Wives Army. He's a part of my main special interests. If anyone ever wants to Fic Gift Swap with me, he's the main blorbo I request for.

Here are a few I've written prior:

When you had the chance

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

Mister Beckman

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind and Gentle

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You Shot a Baby (Dialogue)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

And here are some that I absolutely recommend if you haven't already checked them out!:

Two Days: @jintaka-hane

Reminiscing about the time Beckman first met you, the Red-Force docks for two days so you both can share some highly anticipated time together.

Unspoken Affections: @icy-spicy

Confessions and disciplinary scolding, you tend to the wounds of your crewmen before turning to clean up the First-Mate.

Together: @cinnbar-bun

As the "mom" and "dad" of the Red-Hair Pirates, you and Beckman have a lot of work on your plates. (Un)Luckily for you two, your crew decides to meddle with your relationship (again).

Distractions: @discordantwritings

As the doctor for the Red Haired Pirates you know there’s only so much you can do to curb their bad habits. But maybe you can help your favorite patient, Benn Beckman, kick his smoking habit with a bit of distraction.

Give (In) and Take (me): @sordidmusings

After a night of drinking, you finally work up the courage to make your move on the first mate. Although he has longed for you from afar, he believes you're too good for him and restrains himself from giving in. Until he doesn't.

The way Benn Beckman lives in my head rent free, at all times. I adore the man.

[fanaticsnail]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I am in love with this fic.

Fic👏rec👏fic👏rec👏fic👏rec👏

I feel like I'm actually being called out in a multitude of ways in this fic 💀. From the kids, to the stout (if I don't order a cocktail, I uaually order stout, it's my favourite) to the book, to the swearing.

Obsessed with the his and her POV flashbacks too. I love misunderstanding fics!!

This is amazing. Well done Jintaka-Hane!!

Two Days (Beckman x f!Reader)

Img source

Pairing: benn beckman x f!reader Summary: The first mate of the Red Force could be a good husband and father. The only problem? He is a pirate. A visit to his lover after three months of absence would bring memories of how they first met. Word Count: 5735 Notes: This is my contribution to 'The Great Beckmaning'! It was a looooooot of fun to write, and I'm considering writing about what happened after the tavern brawl, hehe. My gift for the Beckman’s wives army! PS: Not being a native speaker, there may be errors, but I have put all my heart into it, bear with me! Warnings: Mild NSFW, father!beckman x mother!reader, established relationship, one sided enemies to lovers, shanks being silly, misunderstanding, longing, kissing, petting, erotism, domesticity, fluff, mentions of alcohol, guns, cigarettes, swearing, mention of pregnancy. Taglist: @i-am-vita @fanaticsnail @gingernut1314 @lourvedreams @atinymonbebestay @ici-spicy @firefistussy

Songs that inspired me: First Light, Forgotten Voyage, The Arena, Lindsey Stirling

"You sure you can manage without me?" he asked, a familiar look of concern crossing his face.

"For the fifth time, Beck, YEEES!" bellowed the pirates of the Red Force in unison.

"I've left some instructions for…" he handed a note to the men, but everyone avoided taking it.

"Beck! We'll be fine, trust me!” Shanks pushed him down off the ship.

“But… the hole in the starboard bow needs…”

“AYE!! SHOVE OFF, BECK!”

"A’right, a’right…. behave yourselves. Especially you,” he added, gazing towards the captain.

"Enjoooooy! Don't worry about aaaanything… and give her my regards," Shanks said, winking.

And the second in command of the Red Force disembarked, unsure of what he would find upon his return.

It was a port he knew like the back of his hand, in a fishing village neither too small nor too large. Populated by smiling and friendly folk.

He walked through a bustling square where locals sold their wares—a display of colorful fruits, fresh fish from the morning catch, and an eclectic array of handmaded items. In one corner, a quaint bakery beckoned with the tempting aroma of freshly baked pastries. He entered and bought the ones he thought you would like the most.

With the bag in hand, he continued down the street until he reached a modest yet charming house. He grasped the doorknob and turned it, the familiar creak of the door indicating that it was not locked. With a gentle push, the door swung open. Your habit of not locking the door will surely lead you to trouble one day, he murmured to himself. He had warned you countless times about the importance of securing your home, yet you never seemed to heed his advice. However, he wouldn't scold you this time. Not when it had been three long months since your last meeting, and he only had two precious days to enjoy your company.

"Y/n?" He called out to you, but there was no response.

His steps carried him first to the kitchen. He placed the bag of pastries he had purchased upon the counter, a surprise awaiting you. As his eyes scanned the room, he noticed that the wooden frame of a window needed repair, and that the pantry door wasn't closing properly. He would attend to that later.

He then made his way to the living room where he found you. Your graceful form was reclined upon the couch, peacefully lost in slumber. The way your hair spilled over the cushions, your chest rising and falling in rhythmic breaths, and the flawless complexion of your face, adorned with a faint smile in repose, rendered you truly breathtaking. A pang of longing gripped his chest, proof to the months he had spent yearning for you. But these two days together would surely mend any distance between you. 

Beside you laid a beautiful baby girl, her eyes wide with innocence and curiosity as she gazed up at him with a smile.

"Here you’re, little one. I've missed you," he murmured, scooping her up into his arms and holding her close. With care, he raised her up to meet her gaze, marveling at the sight before him.

“So pretty... must have inherited your mother's genes, otherwise I wouldn't believe it with a father like me...".

The baby giggled at him, reaching out to touch the x-shaped scar on his face, but then her expression grew serious, her cheeks flushing red. A peculiar odor began to permeate the room, making Beckman chuckle.

"Ok, ok, let's change ya," he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.

He carried her to the bedroom, where he knew all the diapers and baby wipes were kept. With utmost care, he cradled the baby in one arm while using the other to retrieve the baby changer from your dressing table, ensuring the bed remained clean. Placing the baby, who giggled once more, in the changer, he gently removed her clothes and diaper. With ease, he cleaned her with a wipe, dried her tenderly with a soft towel, applied cream, and secured a clean diaper in place.

It was a curious sight to behold Benn Beckham, a rugged pirate of the seas known for his strength and fierceness, handling and caring for a delicate baby with such tenderness. Once the baby was dressed, they made their way to the kitchen, disposed of the soiled diaper, and returned to the living room. Beckman settled into a rocking chair beside the couch, cradling the baby close. He hummed a sea shanty as a lullaby in his deep voice, stealing glances at you from time to time, careful not to disturb your slumber. 

Farewell to the harbor, To my old hometown

Lets all sing out with a Don! As the ship sets sail

Waves of gold and silver dissolve to salty spray

As we all set sail to the ends of the sea…

Gradually, the baby's eyelids drooped until her eyes closed entirely. A smile graced Beckman's lips as he watched her drift off to sleep.

"Sleep tight, princess," he whispered tenderly.

Then, sinking back into the chair, he studied you thoughtfully. How was it that you had never left him all these years? You were a stunning, independent, and strong woman, and he couldn't help but wonder why you had remained by his side. In a town filled with men eager to win your affection, you had never once betrayed him or hinted at parting ways. Perhaps, he mused, this was love after all... And the fact that he returned to you every time he had the opportunity was his way to show you that he loved you back. And he always will.

As he admired your poised figure, memories of the day you had first crossed paths flooded his mind. What a chaotic mess it had been...

*** *** ***

It was shaping up to be a real wretched day. Shanks, in his usual state of inebriation,  exhibited an unusual level of clumsiness, leaving him feeling like a caretaker tending to an unruly child. Whenever the captain sank into such a state, the crew inevitably followed suit, burdening him with additional duties both aboard and ashore. Having remained docked in the same port for a week, their departure was scheduled for the morrow, yet Shanks, in his folly, proposed a return to the tavern they had frequented the day before. Once more. The man seemed insatiable in his thirst for drink, oblivious to his prior excesses. With a resigned sigh, Beckman acquiesced, resigned to another evening spent in the tavern...

The evening unfolded in customary fashion at the bar, with men swaying clumsily to the music and belting out off-key tunes. The crash of shattered glass echoed through the room as drinks slipped from careless hands, earning disapproving glances from the tavern's owner. Finding solace in a secluded corner, he ordered a pint of ale, lit a cigarette, and scanned the room in search of distraction. Idiots, the lot of them he mused, his gaze drifting until it settled abruptly. 

Across from him, nestled in a quiet corner, sat an intriguing woman, effortlessly beautiful and serene amidst the chaos. Engrossed in a book, she sipped at her drink, while a bag of pastries from a nearby bakery lay at her feet.

Must be one hell of a book to keep her absorbed in a joint like this. Quite an intellectual. 

How he loved an intelligent lady. If someone had asked him what his type of woman was, he would have said without hesitation, her.

He chuckled softly, entertained by the improbable sight of such a striking lady amidst the tavern's humble surroundings. She seemed to be alone. Could she perhaps provide him with some stimulating company for the evening? Surely, she would be the most engaging conversationalist in the room. It was worth a try. However, before making any advances, a habitual reflex led him to gauge his captain's interest in her. His eyes swept the room until they settled on Shanks, who was engrossed in merriment with Roux and the others, urging him on with raucous cheers of 'Drink! Drink! Drink!' 

Well, he thought, it seems she is mine for the takin’.

With a nod to the barman, he summoned him over.

“Boy, fetch that lady another round of whatever she's havin’. Put it on my tab,”' he instructed. The boy acknowledged the order and set off to fulfill it.

Observing from afar as the woman received her pint of stout, her eyebrows arched in surprise, she glanced toward him as the barman gestured in his direction. Meeting her gaze, he raised his glass in greeting, only to receive a disdainful snort in return before she returned her attention to her book.

Darn. Not the smoothest start...

He felt a mixture of irritation and intrigue, but he was reluctant to come across as the sort of man who embarrasses himself by persisting in front of a woman's indifference. So he made an effort to brush it off, attempting to ignore her and the way she had rejected him with such disinterest.

As he tried to shift his focus, his mind wandered to the tasks awaiting him before the next day's departure. He made mental notes to check the main mast, which had been damaged in an attack, and ensure that the cargo was securely arranged, wary of any imbalance that could jeopardize the ship's stability.

He hadn't been listing his tasks for even five minutes when he noticed that Shanks had also become aware of the presence of the woman and was approaching her, stumbling toward her table with an oversized grin. With a gesture he likely deemed elegant, he extended his hand.

"Evenin’, sweetheart. I've come to rescue you from the clutches of boredom that book must be inflicting upon you. Care to dance?"

"Get lost," she shot back without even sparing him a glance.

Beckman chuckled.

The red pirates howled.

Shanks placed a hand over his heart, feigning heartbreak, then turned to the crew and erupted into laughter with the others.

“Bad luck, cap’!!” one man shouted. 

Turning back to her, Shanks remarked, "Well, I'll take that as a no, then. What are you drinking? Want another?"

"No, thank you" she replied firmly, and to further encourage him to depart, she added, "I've already been offered a beer by another man," smiling proudly at her own response.

"Oh? Is that so? I must be late then... And who might this gentleman be, sweetheart? I'm curious," he pressed.

Shit. 

With an air of indifference, she slowly pointed in his direction, causing him visible discomfort.

Shanks and the entire crew turned their attention to him. Shanks's eyes widened, and after several moments of silence, the room erupted in laughter once more.

Despite knowing Shanks well enough to understand that his actions were not intended to ridicule the lady and him or genuinely distress them, he couldn't help but feel exposed and irked by the situation. 

"Well, let's all raise a glass to our first mate!" Shanks declared, breaking the tension. "MAY HE BE LUCKY!".

"HEAR, HEAR!" echoed throughout the room as everyone raised their glasses, some of them whistling.

The captain turned once more to the woman, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Then, with a broad grin, he directed his attention back to Beckman, raising his fist with his thumb pointed upward and offering a clumsy wink. And with that, he rejoined the men, who erupted into cheers.

Beckman pinched the bridge of his nose. As a man who valued the discretion of his affairs, he couldn't shake off the sense of shame engulfing him.

Perhaps he should go and offer an apology on behalf of his captain, then simply leave her be. Yes, that would be a good idea.. so he did just that, approaching her table and pulling up a chair to sit beside her. Drawing nearer, he couldn't resist stealing a better look at her. Her lips and delicate complexion caught his attention. His gaze inevitably wandered to her curves, wondering what it would be like to lose himself between those thighs. Oh, his thoughts took an improper turn. Thoughts that he knew would trouble his sleep that night. Shaking off them, he reminded himself of his purpose: a simple apology. But before he could utter a word, she spoke nonchalantly:

"You never give up, do you?"

A’right, she's certainly a tough one. Attractive and pretending to be out of reach.

He left the chair on the floor and kept a calm smile.

"Doll, I just wanted to apologize for..." 

"Doll?" She raised her eyes, interrupting him. "Fuck off, you drunkard. I hate pirates, you are all scum".

His smile faltered as her words caught him off guard.

"For someone who despises pirates, you speak like one, woman," he said, and glancing at the four empty glasses on the table he added. "And drink like one too..."

She shot him a lethal glare, and he raised his hands in surrender. "A’right, a’right, I'll leave you be."

Well, I tried. He thought as he made his way back to his table.

He was taking his seat when he spotted a group of men entering the tavern. Pirates, he thought. They were armed and wore expressions of menace, their faces twisted into grimaces that spoke of hostility and a readiness for conflict. Their demeanor was unwelcoming, and it appeared that they outnumbered their own group.

Not good, he muttered to himself.

And he was correct. They advanced through the crowd, shoving people roughly, taunting them, snatching their glasses and draining them defiantly in front of their angry stares. Tension hung thick in the air... and it reached a breaking point when one of them seized a chair, hoisted it into the air, and without giving anyone a chance to react, brought it crashing down onto Yassop's back. He cried out in pain and cursed.

"What's wrong with ya, ya scurvy dog?!"

Fuck.

The atmosphere grew heavier with tension, fists tightening, jaws clenching, and guns aimed at one another. Beckman instinctively reached for his rifle, drawing it from his sash. 

"Beck? You still with us?" Shanks called him out, staying calm.

"Right 'ere".

“Please, no slaughter!" shouted the tavern owner.

Briefly, Beckman’s thoughts drifted to the lady, now frightened and huddled against the wall with her eyes fixed on the distant exit door, unattainable and out of reach. She was trapped. With long strides, he placed himself between the advancing crowd and her, a protective barrier.

"Stay behind me”.

Damn, if she wasn't even willing to talk to him before, she surely would never want to see him again after what she was going to witness.

As one of the pirates moved toward him with a knife in one hand and a broken bottle in the other, intent on attacking, Beckman plucked the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers and flicked it toward one of his eyes. The ashes danced through the air with a spark before landing on their target. 

“Don’t get cocky”.

And then chaos erupted.

*** *** ***

Back to the present, his mind wandered back to the same question that haunted him every time he saw you. What if he quitted everything and chose to stay with you? Couldn't he allow himself some happiness? Didn't he deserve it? He liked his life at sea but missed you terribly. And the baby, she surely needed him; as her father, it was his duty to raise her. But would you want that too? After all, you chose your path, and he, his… and he knew you managed perfectly well on your own.

Did you even need him? Perhaps not... He was confident the baby was growing well under your care. However, the red-haired one did need him and maybe that was the main reason he wouldn't bring himself to stay. No, for now, he couldn't stay, and both of you knew that, despite the yearning you held for each other.

Maybe one day... in the future... he could sort things out, he could even ask you to be officially his wife -would you accept?-, and build a home for your family, far from the dangers that came with a price on your head.

He rose from his seat and carefully placed the baby in a cradle that had been placed in the living room. Then, he made his way to the furthest window of the room, opened it to prevent bothering the baby with smoke, and retrieved a match and a cigarette. With practiced ease, he lit the cigarette and took a drag, inhaling deeply as he stared out of the window.

You opened your eyes, taking a few seconds to focus your gaze until you saw him. His unexpected presence caught you off guard. A smile spread across your lips as you admired the sight: his broad shoulders outlined against the light, the curve of his neck, the way his now slightly gray hair was tied back in a ponytail...Throughout the years, he had continued to dress simply, wearing a black shirt and a yellow sash in which he usually kept a weapon. A tough and threatening appearance concealing a kind heart and a good man. Relishing in the moment, you continued to observe him as memories of the day you first met flooded back. What a disaster it had been.

*** *** ***

You were enduring a dreadful day. 

You had poured an entire year working very hard to open a bookstore, spending all your savings and efforts on finding a location, negotiating prices with suppliers, and advertising to make yourself known in the town. It was months of hard work and effort and it had only been a week since you opened. While business could have been better, you were not doing badly. But that morning all your dreams were dashed, a group of pirates stormed into the town and set fire to several shops just for fun. From your bookstore, you could only save one copy, the one you happened to have in your bag at that moment. 

You HATED pirates.

Seeking solace, you went to the tavern to have a drink and give your brain a break. You were overthinking too much about your future and were exhausted and moody. You wanted to be alone, so you didn't doll up—no makeup, no provocative dress, nothing—to keep idiots away from you.

As you sat there, already on your third pint of black beer, a group of pirates swaggered into the tavern.

That's all I needed... A bunch of brutes... And they're already drunk? Mmh not surprised. 

You considered leaving the tavern, but no, you weren't going to be driven out by a bunch of thugs. You just wanted to relax a bit, and those drunkards didn't seem like a real threat. You thought that if you pretended to read the book you managed to save from the fire, no one would try to approach you, so you seized it and set it on the table.

Until now, with the rush, you hadn't had a chance to inspect it. Flipping it over, you were met with a cover depicting a suggestive scene—a blonde-haired woman in a purple dress, her knee on the lap of a sun-bronzed, bare-chested man, unmistakably a pirate, while lavender-hued letters announced:

"How to Seduce Pirates, Part 2 (Take Him to Bed)"

A flush crept up your cheeks.

Seriously?! Out of an arsenal of nearly 3000 books, I could only save THIS? 

Surely, it wasn't the kind of book you'd want to find yourself reading in a setting like this… but there was no other choice.

The atmosphere crackled chaotic, a symphony of raucous voices and clinking glasses filling the air. Men, their movements awkward and uncoordinated, swayed to the music, their off-key singing punctuated by the sharp sound of breaking glass. 'Drink! Drink! Drink!' they chanted, their voices rising above the chaos. Amidst the tumult, maintaining the pretense of reading became an arduous task. You sighed deeply, the book in your hands a shield against the uproar. Not even five minutes had passed when the barman addressed you.

"Here you have, ma'am," you glanced up at the boy, noticing him set a beer on your table and gesture towards the man who had ordered it: a pirate, of course. A tall one, with black hair tied back in a ponytail. He smiled kindly at you, lifting his drink.

You really weren't in the mood. What an arrogant prick, how dare he disturb me like that? I'm not even going to thank him... You snorted and redirected your attention back to the book. But glancing at the pages, your mind tricked you and started conjuring up images of the man.

Alright, he's attractive, I'll give him that. With that black t-shirt barely covering his chest. 

That

Chest

Maybe I'm being stubborn and could just talk with him.

That might help me forget my problems... even if just for one night…

I could rip off his sash in one pull and see what's underneath. 

NO. 

He's a pirate. 

Absolutely not. 

No way. 

Never.

You were lost in your thoughts when a red-haired man with a big smile stumbled over to your table. With a clumsy movement, he extended his hand and addressed you.

"Evenin’, sweetheart. I've come to rescue you from the clutches of boredom that book must be inflicting upon you. Care to dance?"

How? And why? Can't they leave me alone? 

"Get lost" was the best reply you could muster. 

The man put on a little show to make his friends laugh.

“Bad luck, cap’!!” one man shouted. 

Turning back to you, he remarked, "Well, I'll take that as a no, then. What are you drinking? Want another?".

"No, thank you" you replied firmly, and to further encourage him to depart, you added, "I've already been offered a beer by another man".

"Oh? Is that so? I must be late then... And who might this gentleman be, sweetheart? I'm curious," he pressed. 

Oh, that black-haired man was going to regret bothering you. With an air of indifference, you slowly pointed in his direction and watched as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The lines of expression beneath his eyes grew deeper and against your will, you thought he was really cute like that. 

The red-haired man and the entire crew turned their attention to the uncomfortable man and after several moments of silence, the room erupted in laughter once more.

"Well, let's all raise a glass to our first mate!" 

The first mate?

"MAY HE BE LUCKY!"

He won't be, not with me, anyway. 

"HEAR, HEAR!" echoed throughout the room as everyone raised their glasses whistling.

"He is a good man, sweetheart, don't be scared of him," the man whispered in your ear before leaving with his friends, who greeted him. You were a bit shocked and didn't know why, but you sensed that that drunkard meant no harm.

Well, you sighed, not like I am changing my mind. Having already chased away two of them, I'm sure I can continue drinking in solitude. 

But you were mistaken, because two minutes later you felt a presence scanning your body.

The first mate. 

With a chair in his hand and a cigarette in his mouth, a strand of hair falling over his face.

Oh, for god’s sake…

"You never give up, do you?" you threw at him without taking your eyes off the book. For a moment, you felt him hesitate.

"Doll, I just wanted to apologize for..." 

"Doll?" You thought he was mocking you and you exploded, a surge of hatred resurfacing in you. You had tried today to go unnoticed and failed miserably. The memory of your ravaged bookstore brought tears to your eyes, yet you fought to restrain them. And moreover, you felt guilty for being drawn to this man. All you wanted was to distance yourself from him and continue drinking alone. You did direct your gaze upward, very much upward, honestly, how tall is he? to look at him.

"Fuck off, you drunkard. I hate pirates, you are all scum".

You flinched at your own words and regretted them immediately. Too harsh, even if you wouldn't take them back now.

"For someone who despises pirates, you speak like one, woman" he said, glancing at the four empty glasses on the table he added. "And drink like one too...".

Fair point.

You gave him a deadly look and he raised his hands, defeated. "A’right, a’right, I'll leave you be”.

He turned away and walked off from you, while you stood there wondering if you had been too harsh. Your thoughts were interrupted as you spotted a group of men entering the tavern.

Great, more pirates, you thought, all the same crew, you supposed.

They were armed and wore expressions of menace, appearing unfriendly and eager for conflict. 

They advanced through the crowd, shoving people roughly, taunting them, snatching their glasses and draining them defiantly in front of their angry stares. Tension hung thick in the air.. definitely they were not the same crew.

In a moment of escalation, one of them seized a chair, lifting it high into the air. Without a moment for anyone to intervene, it came crashing down onto the back of another man. His cry of pain mingled with curses as he writhed in agony.

"What's wrong with ya, ya scurvy dog?!"

The tension in the air thickened, fists clenched, jaws tightened, and guns leveled at each other. 

You stood up, visibly worried about your safety. Your eyes flickered to the exit door, tucked away in the opposite corner of the room and blocked by the crowd of pirates. It was going to be impossible for you to escape from that place. Where could you possibly go, or hide? 

"Beck? You still with us?"

Beck.

"Right ’ere," he answered.

“Please, no slaughter!”

In that moment, you caught sight of the first mate, holding a rifle in one hand and a cigarette still dangling from his mouth, moving toward you as though he intended to shield you.

"Stay behind me," he said over his shoulder.

Damn, minutes before, you didn't even want to talk to him, and now you just wanted to see him again.

As a pirate moved toward you, intent on attacking, the man protecting you plucked the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers and flicked it toward one of the pirates' eyes. The ashes danced through the air with a spark before landing on their target. 

“Don’t get cocky”.

And then, the hell started.

*** *** ***

Alright, enough with the nostalgia, you thought, bringing your focus back to the present moment.

Restraining your urge to run towards him and jump into his arms, you pondered over what would be the most fitting greeting for him.

"Benn Beckman, you have balls to smoke near the baby in front of me," you decided to say to him, your arms crossed.

He turned towards you immediately, initially taken aback by your confrontational tone, but relaxed when he saw your face. Leaning his elbows on the windowsill, his eyes locked onto yours as he raised the cigarette to his lips and took a defiant puff.

"Well then, c’mere and try to take it from me".

You stood and approached him, attempting to maintain a serious expression. Raising your right hand, you tried to pluck it from his lips, but he was quicker, lifting it with his hand out of your reach. You huffed in frustration, grabbing his shirt and pushing him down pretending to go kiss him. He smelled like a mixture of tobacco, salt, seawater, and damp wood. As he leaned down to kiss you, you seized the opportunity to snatch the cigarette from his fingers just as your lips were about to meet.

With your prize secured, you dashed away down the hallway chuckling at his puzzled expression. He pursued you immediately, his steps echoing in the hallway as he closed the distance. Before you realize, strong arms enveloped you, lifting you by the hips effortlessly.

“Gotcha”.

Turning you gracefully in mid-air, he spun you around to face him. You giggled as you encircled his waist with your legs and clasped onto his shoulders, steadying yourself.

“I think you have something that belongs to me,” he said with a raspy voice.

You raised your hand, the cigarette poised between your fingers, teasingly moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue. 

“Do you mean this?” 

With deliberate allure, you took a drag before exhaling the smoke slowly, your eyes locked onto his.

“No, this,” with a hunger born of desire, he pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss.

You released the cigarette from your grasp, allowing it to fall to the floor. Without hesitation, he swiftly brought his foot down upon it, extinguishing the ember with a resolute stomp.

He swept you into the kitchen, his lips still crashing into yours, before carefully seating you on the cool surface of the dining table. With your eyes shut, you remained oblivious to where you were until the chill of the table beneath your thighs prompted you to open them and take in your surroundings. You barely had a second to look around before you felt Beckman’s fingers touch your chin, drawing your mouth back to his again.

You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, and heard him growl softly. You smiled at this, your hands tracing the contours of his back until they grazed the yellow fabric cinched around his waist.

All the while he devoured your lips, you began untying the sash, a task that with practice, you had learned to do quickly. The moment it came undone, it slipped from his waist and dropped to the floor. Then, pressing your hand against his chest, you broke the kiss, your lips parting to catch your breath.

"How much time?,” you asked.

"Two days”.

"Okay," you replied without complaint or further inquiry. Both of you knew that arguing about it would only cause pain and frustration, as there was nothing that could be done. 

Slipping his hands beneath your shirt, he began to caress the skin of your stomach, his fingertips sending shivers down your spine. "Enough time to put another child in this beautiful belly of yours”.

You huffed and tried in vain to shove him off. “Don't you dare, Benn Beckman”. He chuckled and started kissing your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck, and you thought you heard him mumble 'we’ll see' against your skin.

He pushed your legs slowly, spreading them to make room for your bodies to embrace. When they reached the limit, his hands moved to your small back and he pulled you firmly towards him. You gasped at the resolute movement.

“C’mere”

A stray lock of hair escaping from his ponytail tickled your face, and with the tip of your fingers, you attempted to tuck it behind his ear, only for it to promptly slip out again.

"Where is the boy?" He asked between kisses, unable to separate his lips from yours or his hands from your back.

"Out. Playing with some friends," you managed to say.

"Mmh,” he adjusted his position to center his body with yours, his legs firm against the dining table. “One day I must teach him to fire a gun,” he mumbled.

"He is… only four… years old, Beck”

“Mmmh,” he murmured absentmindedly, his attention focused on the task of urging your body to recline upon the table's surface. You surrendered to his gentle push, letting him guide you until you were lying on your back, utterly exposed to him. 

He took a moment to observe you, his gaze lingering on your swollen lips and your chest panting beneath him. You were a sight to behold.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful…”

His fingers lifted the edge of your skirt and tenderly traced the curve of your thigh, from knee to hip. A warmth began to spread wildly through your lower body as he kissed your neckline, unbuttoning your shirt impatiently at the same time. You raised your legs, wrapping them around his waist with a firmness that conveyed your desire to pull him closer, molding his body against yours in an embrace of longing and urgency.

“Beautiful and all mine…”

Your back arched instinctively, a silent expression of anticipation coursing through your body. He used this movement to slide his hands under your back, lifting and drawing you close against him.

“Bed? Beck…” 

“No time,” he managed to say.

He devoured you hungrily, his hands looking for the buckle of his belt in a desperate attempt to free himself. Your breaths quickened in unison, your bodies attempting to meld together…

"HI MOM! I’M AT HOME!"

His movements halted abruptly at the sound of a joyful four-year-old entering the house, and a deep grunt involuntarily escaped his chest.

Fuck

With a swift motion, you disentangled yourself from his embrace, hurriedly smoothing down your disheveled clothes and tousled hair.

“I’ll take care of you later," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. A promise he’d better fulfill.

--------------

You fucked all night. It was an intense session in which, in an effort to keep both of you quiet so as not to wake up the kids, he did his best to swallow your moans with his mouth and stifle his own grunts against your neck. The sheet on one side of the bed had ripped, evidence of his desperation to relieve tension, silently struggling.

Now, you rested in bed, your body tired and slightly sore. Your head nestled against his chest, the warmth of his body comforting and familiar. He was staring at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought, something weighing heavy on his mind.

"Darlin’," he broke the silence. 

"Mmh?" you lifted your head to meet his gaze.

"You know I'd never smoke right next to the baby, right?"

So, that's what it was.

You couldn't help but smile, finding comfort in the moment as you nestled your face against his chest once more, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

"I know, Beck," you murmured softly, your fingertips gently caressing his scarred cheek. "I love you."

[fanaticsnail]

You had me in a chokehold at the first sentence. I squawked. Really loud and obnoxiously.

This was the sweetest and fluffiest way to wake up. Benn Beckman treating his brat by attempting to satiate them with a gruelling task? Obsessed.

So sweet. Sweet, sweet grumbly man. So cute. And he chopped special, sweet treats?

Thank you so much, Jintaka 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Brightened my day. And encouraged me to get outta bed and eat some cereal.

RAISINS (Beckman x f!Reader)

Img src

Masterlist

Notes: This is a stupid idea - gift to my lovely @fanaticsnail, to give her some comfort and encouragement regarding the last glimpse into her life. Beckman isn't very good in the kitchen, but he does is best 💕 🚬

Pairing: Benn Beckman x f!reader

Word count: 800

Summary: When you're hungry, you're a grump. And it's even worse when they bring you things you don't like.

Taglist: @i-am-vita @gingernut1314

Ever since Lucky Roux had dislocated his shoulder, nobody cooked aboard the Red Force, and the red-haired pirates made do with whatever they could scrounge up from the galley to survive.

You found yourself in there, hungry and grumpy, scouring for a snack. Provisions were running low, and a group led by the ship's second-in-command had just returned from resupplying ashore. As you rummaged through the pantry for something to munch on, the chatter of returning voices outside announced their arrival back on board.

Benn Beckman strode into the galley, a cigarette clamped between his lips as usual. Upon seeing you, he threw you a warm smile, as he always did whenever he saw you.

"Hello darlin’, feelin’ a bit hungry, are we?" His muscular scarred arms flexed as he lifted the weighty shopping bags onto the table. Each one seemed to weigh a ton, but it didn't appear to trouble him.

"Yeah, and there's nothing here…"

“Don't worry, pretty girl, I've bought yer favorite cereal for breakfast."

Eagerly, you pounced on the shopping bags, seeking the prized cereal box. Your hands landed on a square cardboard container, which you swiftly pulled out. As you gazed at it, disappointment clouded your face. Cereals with raisins, the product name read.

You loathed raisins with every fiber of your being.

With a frustrated expression, you glanced at Beckman, unable to hide your annoyance.

"Seriously?! With raisins?!”

He snatched the box from your grasp and examined it closely.

"Guess I mistook these brown things for chocolate,” he said shrugging his shoulders and handing you the box again.

“I hate raisins, Beck!!", you shouted, throwing the cereal container onto the table.

“Come on, doll, I’m sure it doesn’t taste that bad," he added calmly, his cigarette still in his lips and a wisp of smoke curling from it.

You huffed in response, aware that your reaction wasn't the greatest. But frankly, you detested raisins and the idea of having to eat that crap for the rest of the week infuriated you beyond measure. You couldn't hide it.

As he observed your spoiled reaction, his own irritation and frustration threatened to mirror yours.

“Easy now, don’t be like that,” he added, trying to keep calm, “next time I’ll buy others”.

You didn't want to listen. Taking long strides, you stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door shut without even saying goodbye.

"Spoiled girl…", he muttered angrily, shaking his head, “ungrateful brat…”.

You spent the rest of the day on deck, attending to some of your duties. Beckman was nowhere to be found, and you still felt yourself quite angry enough to seek him out and talk to him. Your reaction was somewhat irrational, but you couldn't avoid it.

Nonetheless, you felt a hint of sadness and guilt within you. After all, the first mate was your favorite person on the ship, and you never used to argue.

“Hey, do you know where Beck is?" asked one man.

"No clue," another replied.

"Last time I saw him, he was busy in the galley," you heard someone else say.

You remained occupied, tending to your tasks throughout the day. As your hunger intensified while working, you contemplated pilfering something from the pantry.

You made your way to the galley, a familiar scent of tobacco wafting through the crack of the partially closed door. You reached for the knob to push it, but halted abruptly upon hearing the voice of the vice captain murmuring grumpily from inside.

“... don't know why the fuckin’ hell I bother”.

Your hand released the doorknob, and you decided not to enter; you weren't going to confront an angry superior. You turned on your heel and made your way back to your duties, resigned.

Three hours later, your stomach growled like a sea monster from the Grand Line.

"Screw it, I'm going to eat that crappy cereal."

You headed to the galley again, finding nobody there. You opened the pantry, grabbed the cereal and a bowl, and sat at the table with a sigh. Pouring the cereal into the bowl, you took a closer look at it and to your surprise, there were no raisins. They had been removed and replaced by meticulously sliced chocolate bits.

You rose immediately and made your way onto the deck in search of the first mate, the spoon still in your hand.

“Beckman!!!”

You saw him standing at the prow, his expression grave as he concentrated on securing a line with a sailor's knot.

“I’m right’ere”, he answered crankily.

Glancing at his hands, you spotted tiny chocolate specks staining his fingers.

"Did you remove all the raisins from the cereal?!"

“Aye”, he said without looking at you.

"… by hand?"

“Aye”, he mumbled, his focus still on the rope.

"And chopped bits of chocolate for me?"

“That I did”, he replied, still avoiding your gaze.

You rushed towards him, leaping into his arms, causing him to drop the rope, which fell to the ground as he caught you. Enveloping him with your arms, you started giving him little kisses all over his face.

“I am sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you”.

“... it's a’right”, he responded, slightly embarrassed and trying to hide a smile.

“... And… thank…”, you said, unable to stop pecking his cheeks, “… you”.

“... anytime, darlin’”, he hugged you tightly against him.

From the bowcastle, a group of men were watching you.

“Beck!! She got you wrapped around her finger, huh?” one of them shouted, laughing.

Without letting go of your embrace, Beckman shifted his gaze towards them.

“GET BACK TO FUCKIN' WORK!!”