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curlyfriesgalore · 12 days ago

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the tulpar's very own "mom" & "dad."

i sent an anon message to a user (iykyk 🫣) about the reader dating curly while being a co-captain/pilot alongside him. they're seen as the mom and dad of the group because of their positions as leaders, and daisuke claimed they both had major facebook mom energy. definitely not self-projecting.

the two rolled with it, but discovered that they liked it way more than they realized, eventually calling each other mommy and daddy in their own space.

★ this is a list of headcanons and what is essentially a one-shot that's broken up into bullets. although, fair warning, i wrote A LOT, so there's so much to scroll through under the cut. anyway, the first half is sfw and other is nsfw.

☆ gen tags: fem! reader (she/her) who loves being captain and doesn't know what's popular these days. reader and curly are in their early 30s. no crash au. curly wants to have a family with you. jimmy is a janitor here LMAO.

★ nsfw tags MDNI: mommy (mama) kink. daddy kink. role switching but leans into fdom/msub. curly secretly got a thing for breeding 🫢.

[any feedback on my writing is much appreciated btw! since i'm doing this to improve —iris🌠]

sfw.

★ the dynamic.

you and curly met through working at pony express. both of you were equally capable captains and pilots of your respective ships, bonding over the responsibilities and pressures of your roles.

curly adored your genuine drive for this job. you were so passionate about bringing out the best in people and enjoyed micro-organizing every little detail, making sure everything went smoothly.

meanwhile, he was just good at talking, which you would always praise, but he never found much pride in what he does. however, it paid immensely well, and, at the very least, he got to indulge in his love for astronomy at every waking hour, distracting himself enough from cycling through his depressive thoughts.

so, he's not complaining. plus, he gets to ogle at and hang out with the prettiest and coolest person at pony express.

(sure, he had jimmy, so he wasn't always so alone with his mind, but with you in his life, he might actually have a chance at settling down. though, curly was getting ahead of himself. he'll try to drop his future family fantasies for now... juuust until he's sure he can bag you).

curly finds your way of leading to be so endearing and... intimidating, honestly. while he was calm and compromising, you were firm and authoritarian. you were never swayed by incompetence and planted a strong ground when navigating discourse between crewmates, but, at the same time, you were nurturing. you have an air of deep kindness and wise guidance that sends him reeling. he'd openly tell you how much he admired that, but would never admit that he daydreams of how hot you looked when you ordered your crew around. he's got to stay professional, after all!

at some point, the two of you were paired for a 3-month long-haul flight. you, the captain, and he, the co-captain. one thing lead to another and without the company's knowledge, you two fell for each other.

how could you not? you two had all the elements of a power couple and understood each other better than anyone else. besides, he is one hunk of a man. of course you'd want to snag him for yourself, who wouldn't?

funnily enough, you guys asked to see each other in the cockpit with the same intention of declaring feelings.

and, of course, since you two were grown adults stuck on a spacecraft far too long for your libidos to handle, it only took two confessions interrupting each other, two pairs of hands holding, and two soft kisses to lead to the two of you passionately making out, with you straddling his lap as he wrapped his arms around your back.

it's been years since then, and the tulpar was just one of many long-haul trips where the two of you got to work together.

however, you guys have kept your relationship hidden for the sake of professionalism. even jimmy was dumbfounded to accidentally find out nearly a year into dating.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"dude, why the fuck do you have captain l/n in your wallet...?" jimmy squinted at the photo. his eyes scrolled down the print, coming to a halt and widening at what he saw, "wait, shut up, is that you two kissing?"

his eyebrows contorted into a tense knit. his mouth gaped as he stared at curly, who stood and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "since when?!"

as curly explained himself, jimmy half-heartedly laughed as he shook his head, bemusement painting his face. whether or not he was ever happy to learn about this, curly will never know.

then, realization hit. jimmy frowned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "oh, god, please don't tell me those stains i've been cleaning were from you guys?"

"huh?! no, no! jimmy, i swear, that wasn't us, i promise!" curly panicked, his head shaking profusely.

turns out, it was, lmfao. jimmy gave him an earful, and curly kept apologizing, embarrassed that his best friend knows a little too much about what he's been doing around the ship.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

this man adored you, more than anything. the security you had in him—in yourself, most of all, was intoxicatingly comforting.

the two of you swore to stick together for as long as it takes, and have already planned out your wedding, buying a house together, changing careers (curly wants to be a stay-at-home dad, maybe freelance in something if he's got time), owning pets, raising kids (he is 100% a girl dad!!! i can see him wanting at least 2, but if you still have room for one more, he'll gladly take responsibility *wink* *wink*), etc.

curly believed that you both balanced well as parents. you would teach the kids to be brave and confident in themselves, whereas, he would help them learn to handle confrontation calmly and be friendly to all.

(he's not saying that you weren't friendly, just that, between the two of you, he specialized more in the charm department. he wasn't wrong, though! back before you guys dated, he cranked his charisma to a max, and look where that's got him now 🤭).

all of this meant everything to curly. he had quite a rough start to life, not financially but familially (how you want to interpret that is up to you). it's why he's become such a people-pleaser and tends to be a doormat, growing used to internalizing his feelings because he believed others were more deserving of pity (a belief that's been reinforced by jimmy throughout their friendship).

not to mention, how much he worried about being with someone who had to stay on earth. he felt guilty for this hypothetical person, how they'd be akin to a military spouse, waiting for god knows how long, just for curly to come back and stay for less than 6 months at a time. it sickened him to think of how that would affect his future children.

so, for him to be in a relationship with someone in the same occupation and caliber as him eased a lot of that fear. and, this is the same person who is known for her emotionally maturity, who knows how to express her thoughts and feelings, and who loves curly for all that makes him him, giving him more reasons than he already had to get down on that knee.

good GOD does he wish he could go ahead and do that already, but proposing on an aged piece of metal in outer space wasn't the most... romantic setting, as much as you jokingly insisted it was.

but, no worries, curly's got it all planned out. once you all land back on earth, curly is making sure you get your dream proposal, for that man is stopping at nothing to wed you and love you for the rest of his life!

★ the beginning to a never-ending petname.

one night, anya pulled out a pop-culture board game, one that the others understood the rules and references of fairly quickly. but, you and curly? oh, you guys needed time.

you two weren't dumb by any means, you guys were just... a little behind on the trends—trends that have been out for forever 💀.

everyone poked fun at how much you would both pause and say, "huh...?" or "w-what's that from, again?" how your brows would knit and furrow, your faces looking blank as ever. the two of you would take a slow glance at each other, then at the others, and shake your head in confusion.

admittedly, swansea was in the same boat as you two, but even he knew a couple of things better than you lot. "the benefits of raising two nerds for kids," he'd say. he liked laughing at you guys, made him feel young.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"ohh, isn't that the game you play on your gameboy, daisuke? the... you know, uh, the cute pika ball thing?" daisuke stared at curly, dumbfounded by what he was hearing.

"CAPTAIN. HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW THE NAME OF ONE OF—IF NOT—THE HIGHEST FORMS OF ART?!" he turned to you, desperation fueling his eyes. "l/n, please tell me you've at least heard of pokémon before..." daisuke exaggeratedly clasped his hands together.

you sat there, pursing your lips with shifty eyes and pretended to whistle as you looked away.

"anya. swansea. i think i'm gonna faint..." he dramatically dropped himself onto the two. swansea shook his head, uncrossing his arms and pulling daisuke off his and anya's laps, "kid, you are way too dramatic for your own good."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

daisuke exasperatedly commented on how you and curly were so much like his parents, clueless and far too involved in work to know his interests.

then, he thinks for a second, and finally decides that you guys were technically the parents of the ship.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"right? think about it. if the tulpar were a house and we were family, l/n and curly would be mom and dad 'cause they're responsible for us and the ship. swansea's the grandpa—oh, come on, swan, don't look at me like that!"

"i mean, you do have grandkids, swansea..."

"exactly. THANK YOU, anya. now, you get to be the cool older sister, i'm the even cooler teenage son, polle can be like... our little pet or something, and jimmy is the uncle!"

"wh-why am i the uncle?"

"'cause you know... you're... you."

"what is THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

as an "argument" ensued between the others, you and curly were flushing. nobody but jimmy knew of your relationship, but the fact that daisuke figuratively paired you guys as a married couple turned you into a bashful, blushing mess.

nobody noticed, really. jimmy was too busy grumbling about being seen as the weird uncle, and everyone started getting really annoyed by him. so, in classic curly and y/n fashion, you two tried to resolve the situation (curly reassured jimmy that uncles can be cool! but jimmy's frown just deepened).

the game ended, and the two of you walked to your sleeping quarters, reflecting on how it went. not bringing up the mom/dad thing just yet, but it lurked in the back of your minds.

deciding to stay in his room, you and curly changed into your pjs. you snuggled up under the covers, but he momentarily checked on some paperwork. you groaned, rolled your eyes, and patted the pillows.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"babyyy, just get into bed now." you pouted.

curly chuckled, "okay, okay... just give me ooone more sec, mama, i'll be right there—"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

your eyes widened, a fuzzy warmth bubbled within you. curly quickly got embarrassed and apologized, but when you softly chuckled and reassured him that you didn't mind, he relaxed.

hearing how smoothly 'mama' rolled out his tongue unlocked something deep in you.

the truth was, curly had been calling you 'mom', 'mama', and 'mommy' in his fantasies for quite some time now. he told you, now with him in bed, how it helped him immerse himself in imagining his future with you. even in scenarios where you didn't have kids yet, it still felt so soothing to call you by those titles.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck as you circled his back with your palm, occassionally playing with the ends of his hair. as he yapped about it, trying to make it seem less of a big deal for him, you lifted his chin to face you. he instantly softened, his words faltering as you looked down on him.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"you can call me, mommy, more often if you'd like to, baby... i really don't mind." you reassured in a low voice.

curly was uncertain, but his ocean doe eyes remain glued to your deep gaze. he swallowed, "are you sure? you don't have to put up with it if you don't really like it, honey, it's okay—"

you softly hushed him, thumbing the golden hairs scattered on his cheek. "no, i mean it." you paused, hoping the following words sounded smooth, "...mommy thinks it's genuinely cute when you call me that."

curly squirmed. a whimper resided in his throat, but, as the rumbling of your voice trailed down his spine, he let a quiet, high-pitch moan escape his lips.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

for a man who presents himself as someone very self-assured, he does have a hard time accepting that you were really okay with it.

however, when his hesitancy eases into normalcy, he's calling you 'mommy' and 'mama' in every other sentence. if not, all his sentences.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hey, mommy, where'd you put my mug?"

"mama, you need to stop sleeping so late. it's bad for your health." (he's a hypocrite and he knows it).

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

curly's voice was naturally deep, saccharine sweet, and a bit raspy at times. but, when he called you by your motherly petnames, he'd go an octave softer, especially as the night came to a close and sleepiness was taking a toll on him. he'd sound a little dumb and incoherent, but the bass in him remained strong.

he still calls you by the classic petnames, mainly 'darling' and 'honey' since those are his other personal faves. though, minutes prior to work, he'd try to use your actual name or settle with 'babe,' so he doesn't accidentally call you 'mommy' in public. it was deeply personal for him, and if someone like jimmy caught wind of that, it would greatly upset curly, even though he would very likely tell you it was fine (just so you wouldn't chew jimmy alive).

so, when YOU began calling him, 'daddy,' it sent his mind into a haywire. (how it happened is in the nsfw section!)

he loved the safety of calling you his mommy, how it relieved the weight of his captain duties and the thoughts burdened in his mind. but, with his newfound title, he'd flip between feeling secure in your protection to wanting to do nothing but protect you. not from any real danger, perse, but, moreso, caring for each other's well-being when either of you wanted to indulge in a little less control.

it made sense that even you, the commanding leader who enjoyed delegating and dominating others (other than him), needed a break from your responsibilities and wanted curly to take the wheel for a change.

you both took turns pampering one another. he would do everything you wanted, and made sure to wrap you in his big, strong arms by the end of the day.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"rest your pretty head for me, okay, mommy? daddy's got you..."

he brought the back of your hand to his lips and kissed it deeply, thumbing your knuckles with his large, calloused fingers. with his other arm, curly pressed your waist closer to his, letting you relish in his warmth.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

when it was his turn, a long snuggle session, loads of praise, and kisses in every place was all he needed (don't forget to call him your good little boy! he needs his mommy's praise after a rough day at work).

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"honeyyy, i've called you 'good boy' like 24 times in a rowww...!" you whined. of course you didn't mind peppering kisses on his face with the same adoring name over and over again, but now, he was just getting greedy.

curly giggled, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he softened his sea blue eyes, "just ooone more, pleaaase, mama? please...?"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

he loved how reliable the term 'daddy' felt. it gave him a little ego boost. he's always had a pretty good relationship with his masculinity, but this just added onto that like a good affirmation.

the way his mind would get so lost in replaying how you two back-and-forthed with your respective petnames. it felt like he was role-playing his future family with you in real time.

★ extras.

it became an ongoing joke with the crew, especially with daisuke. whenever you'd tell him to get back to work, he'd drawl out a long "okayyy, mommmm," but quickly apologized after swansea smacked the back of his head.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"tch, don't talk to your captain like that."

"ach! i'm sorry, I'M SORRYYY—i was kidding!!!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

anya found it silly, never really saying anything like daisuke, but since you two became good friends (both because you guys genuinely clicked and were the only women on board), she had a knack for teasing you about it. she knew something more was going on between you and curly. so, maybe, just maybe, during a psych eval, you eventually spilled to her about your relationship.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"hehe, called it."

"seriously?! how?"

"y/n... it's so obvious. i've seen you guys sneak into each other's rooms."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

swansea didn't care. he was an actual dad, after all, and practically everyone he knew eventually became a parent one way or another. though, if you felt comfortable enough with swansea and told him about your relationship, he surprisingly wouldn't mind giving you two a piece of advice. how to keep a long-term marriage? dude's been with his wife for over 40 years and counting. raising children? please, he's done it twice. unclogging the toilet after your kids threw your deodorant down the drain? don't ask, just listen. you're much better off not knowing how.

whatever it is, ask away, but don't expect anything easy on the ears. swansea gives advice in poetic prose that borderline sounds like he's taking a jab at you.

truthfully, jimmy is somewhere in between being deeply irritated by the both of you and not giving two shits. he hates how you're sort of a curly clone, in the sense that you're also a high-performing person that everyone adores to work with. but, what's worse, is that you're so much harder to get mad at and are 100% capable of calling out his ass.

he's had to catch himself from saying anything too mean to curly multiple times. he knows he's easily replaceable, he's the janitor for god's sake, and if he said too much in front of you, he knows you'd tell pony express to fire him on the spot.

but, if we're assuming that jimmy is mentally better in the head, he'd eventually get over it and shrug off your guys' relationship, not wanting to grow envious as he does by default.

nsfw.

★ mommy.

it didn't surprise you that curly loved calling you 'mommy' in bed too. he'd always say, "mommy, you're so beautiful", "m-mommy, it's too tight...!" and when he gets overwhelmed, he'd become so dazed as his dick ached, crying because his mama felt so good.

he was like pavlov's dog, only the bell was your petname and you were the meal. if either of you were ever so slightly horny and everyone was stowed away in their quarters, hearing 'mommy' reverberate out of your mouth had him squeezing his thighs.

however, he's gotten used to mostly keeping it in his pants. not letting himself get needy when it's used casually. otherwise, he'd cease to function.

he loves it when you ride him, he gets all whimpery and brain-dead, begging his mama to let him cum out of his "little" boy dick.

all he wanted was his mommy to use him, make him so overstimulated until all that was left in his empty head was you.

sometimes, he loved the feeling of reaching his orgasm more than the orgasm itself. it's that momentary numbness he gets that he enjoys chasing, how every single thought completely disappeared, leaving him into nothing but a panting mess — all of him leaking out of his cock.

★ daddy.

one night, you were laying on curly, sitting upright. he held you in his arms as you spread your legs far and wide, toes digging into the mattress, gripping onto curly's biceps for support.

and, just like curly when he called you 'mama' for the first time, you accidentally slipped out a "daddy—!" as he fingered you, knuckles-deep.

you suddenly went quiet, quickly covering a hand over your mouth.

curly's eyes widened, his fingers stilled inside of you as his heart raced in his chest... he didn't expect it, but his shock washed into dominance.

he pulled out his fingers, his tone more stern and husk as he whispered, "say that again."

you whimpered, the loss of fullness making your thighs shudder. without a single thought, you called him daddy again, and again, and again... until he flipped you onto your stomach and was back to toying with you, digging into your insides at much greater speeds than before.

when you began regularly using it, he'd grow so romantic and reserved, wanting to take his time to just worship you—peppering deep kisses from head to toe—because in his eyes, you were the most precious person in existence.

he's never rough unless you tell him to be or he knows that it'll make you cum even better, but this man just loves to be slow and sensual. it's his go-to speed.

his favorite thing to do is coo at you, asking if you like how daddy is loving you or if daddy's doing a good job at touching your little hole. even when he's assuming a dominant role, he wants your reassurance.

curly is never mean. he only likes to light-heartedly tease you whenever you'd whine for him to keep going. other than that, he was heavy on his praises, loved complimenting you till you were blushing all over.

★ taking turns.

now, you guys would call each other 'mommy' and 'daddy' regardless of the dynamic, but if either of you felt more subby, you'd settle for the classic, 'good girl,' and him, 'good boy' (or any other submissive petname you prefer).

if you're domming and he's subbing, he wants you to use up all of his cum for your pleasure. he hopes you'll let him spill all that's left in him for hours on end.

however, most of the time, he's not really built for that, only able to handle a little over a round. so, to make up for it, he'll let you get him all pent up and force him to hold it in, using his desperation as energy to serve you.

the longer you left him like that, the faster his licks and finger-fucks became.

if you're cruel, making him rut into you would send him shaking. he'd struggle so hard, needing to take breaks as he alternated between slow and steady thrusts to rough humps according to what you ordered... oh, tears were definitely rolling down his cheeks.

(don't worry, he's not hurt. it's just a lot for him to physically handle. but, for you, he'd withstand anything!)

on the off-chance that he has the energy to go longer, he wants you to use him in all positions with only a minute to breathe after each cum. he wants to lose it, make him sweaty and breathless, please. turn him into a pathetic display only for your eyes to see.

if he's domming and you're subbing, he finds it fun to deny your orgasm, loving how surprised you get whenever he'd lift your vibrator off your clit or leave his dick in you, barely moving an inch. but even then, he quickly caves in and lets you have your way because nothing turns him on more than you cumming and crying for your 'daddy.'

he doesn't do that to hurt you, after all, he hates the mere possibility of even remotely making you uncomfortable. but, when he asks whether or not mommy misses his fingers, and you'd mewl in agreement, he can't help himself from edging you.

★ curly thinking of you. (extras).

he jerks off to the idea of breeding you.

but, even though it gets his dick all wet, he won't re-enact it just yet. he doesn't want to accidentally impregnate you when neither of you were ready—especially since you're the one carrying.

even if you were incredibly horny and adamant on it, he'd keep his rationale.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"mommy... i'm not cumming inside you." he chuckled, shaking his head with his tone, firm. you whined, "but, why not?" a needy frown formed on your lips, "i just want to feel good, daddy. you said i could...!"

you grinded down on his boxers, wetness seeped through the fabric of your panties. curly stifled a groan as he felt your clothed folds slide against his tip, drenched in his pre-cum.

"i know, mommy, i know... daddy'll take care of you soon, i promise... but i'm not risking anything, okay?" he pressed a kiss on your forehead, thumbing circles on your stomach with his hands gripping your waist. "it's for your own safety, mama."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

but, since this was all in his head, he could indulge in it as much as he wanted.

curly loved remembering the way your cum dripped out of your hole, how softly your pussy parted. it made him wish it was his, wanting to fill you up and let his mess soak up inside you.

he wished he could finger it back into you—or, even better, tongue-fuck it in. the thought of having you sit on his face with him lapping his cum into your walls, as you rubbed your clit against the end of his nose got him all hot and bothered.

with his hand pumping himself from base to tip, he'd think of you laying down on your back, wrapping your legs around curly's head as you pushed his mouth further into you. he'd moan into your pretty parts, purposefully deepening it so his voice would vibrate all over your pussy.

[holy shit, i wrote so much. thank you for reading all the way ♡ let me know if you guys want more captain! reader and/or mommy/daddy kink! curly —iris🌠]

#whew had to edit it since i accidentally deleted a chunk 💀 but all is saved #hopefully i wrote everything in?#curly mouthwashing #curly x reader #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing #captain curly #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing

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fanaticsnail · 3 months ago

Text

Exhibitionism: Trafalgar Law

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100+

Themes: Law x afab!reader, mdni, NSFW, 18+, smut, fingering, praise, public, no prior relationship, masturbation, education, medical malpractice, (witnesses present: Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo), consent asked multiple times, medical talk, vaginal exam.

Notes: This is day 2 of my celebration event. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, please excuse any inaccuracies.

When Ikkaku approached you with a coin from your captain’s prized collection, your brows knit together in puzzlement. She had this look in her eye, one that held something hidden behind her usual disgruntled expression that held you intrigued. Head lulling to the side, she pursed her lips and asked you her question.

“Heads or tails?”

Shaking your head softly, you gave her more of a confused smile than anything else. With a soft shrug, and an assumption in your mind regarding chore rotation, you simply pouted while uttering your answer.

“Tails, I guess?”

With a mischievous smirk, Ikkaku flicked the shiny object in the air with a skilled roll of her thumb. Catching it mid-air, she swatted it and held it firmly within a cupped grip on her forearm. Eyes darting between yours, her smile grew ever wider the longer she held your attention.

“Don't want to reconsider?” she taunted you, “Last chance to change your answer, hon. Still going with tails?”

“I like my odds, and tails is my favorite” you smile warmly at her, “They're always more intricately carved, and their patterns are pretty.” She nods, tugging away her hand and revealing the side facing the roof of the tang to you both.

“Would you look at that! You win,” she chuckled, reaching the coin forward and gently offering it out for you to take, “Give this to the captain when you go on in to see him. He's expecting one of us, and I'm so fucking glad it's you.” She seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief at that last statement, her cheeks falling a little as she feels a weight flee from her shoulders.

You cocked your head at her response, darting your eyes between hers before you apprehensively took the coin from her hands.

“What the fuck did I just agree to?” you giggle a little, unsure of what would phase your crewmate so much that she'd breathe out this much relief, “Some sick and twisted chore?”

“Nah, nothin’ like that,” she giggled, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “Captain needed a volunteer for a lesson he wanted to teach some of the crew, is all.” She gently waved you off, giving you that grin filled with mischief that had your skin ignite with goose flesh.

Shrugging off your nerves, you ponder what mysterious lesson needed your person in that only you or Ikkaku would be able to serve under.

Whatever you concocted in your mind, nothing prepared you for where you found yourself. Splayed out in the medical bay, legs in stirrups, and made comfortable by pillows tucked behind your head, and a weighted blanket kindly placed over your stomach to grant you some comfort within the issue at hand: Captain Trafalgar Law was giving three of the crew a lesson on anatomy. Your body as his guide, he had his nylon gloves tugged over his wrists as he gently pointed out several areas of your pussy to your crewmates.

“The labia majora and the labia minora are a part of what is commonly referred to as ‘the vulva’,” Law’s low tone and dry voice caused you to internally shake your head and roll your eyes, but externally remaining still so he could deliver more of his lecture, “This also includes the urethra, vagina, and glans clitoris. Any questions?”

“What is the main function of the clitoris?” Bepo’s voice bashfully rose his question through a shy mumble, “What does it do?” Snickers from Shachi and Penguin were hastily silenced by a look Law shot them, his eyes piercing them more precisely than his blade ever could.

“The clitoris is where most owners of vaginas often source their pleasure,” Law explained without fluctuation in his cadence, “For many, it is the most common cornerstone of their orgasm. Only a small fraction is external, the majority of the clitoris is internal. Stimulating the clitoris is usually the final leg to achieving an orgasm. Any other questions, or should I move on-?”

“-The fuck you mean it's internal? Like the G-spot?” Shachi spoke over Law, cutting him off and relating his concern. Law sighed, clamping his eyes shut and taking a small breath of agitation.

“Both yes, and no. It's currently under debate as to what part of the network the G-spot is: whether it's a part of the vagina, or if it's the underside of the clitoris,” Law spoke, resting his hand on your exposed thigh.

You try not to tense up as you stare at the ceiling and think on the dinner menu, the cleaning rotation, the timetable for overnight shift, and what time to set your alarm in the morning. Anything other than four of your crewmates staring at your pussy, and attempting to ignore the way your Captain's authoritarian dictation was affecting you. Anything other than the embarrassment of getting aroused at each soft and intentional poke and prod to your cunt, paired with the dry delivery of medical speech.

“Now, let's talk internally,” Law cut through the silence, gently moving his warm hands towards your core and using the heels of his palm to divide your walls and expose your entrance. “The alley towards the cervix-.”

“-Captain, I'm sorry to interrupt your lecture,” Bepo’s voice spoke quietly once more, “But I have more questions about the clitoris. When you say it's the most common source for the orgasm, can you explain anything else about it? I-... I just want to learn, I'm sorry.” You purse your lips and attempt to suppress a soft coo at Bepo’s sweetness.

Law was less enthusiastic about the interruption, but halted his explanation to satisfy the curiosity of the polar-bear mink.

“The clitoris has three parts to it,” you felt his hands move up, the heel of his palm at the base of your abdomen, pushing up the skin and exposing more of you to your crewmates, “See here? I’m pushing the clitoral hood back to reveal this smaller organ hidden beneath? That is an extremely sensitive part of the vaginal anatomy. When stimulated, the vagina will self-lubricate to allow easier entry internally.”

You could barely breathe, thankful for the security the weighted blanket offered you to anchor you to the table and prevent you from fleeing from sheer embarrassment. Taking a few steady breaths in, you attempted to keep yourself calm as you shoved away the feeling of an almost touch to your sensitive bundle of nerve-endings from your captain.

Sensing your unease, Law drew his other hand to your thigh and gave you a gentle tap in appreciation of your willingness as his assistant. While he would never say it, he hoped you were the one to agree to this little display instead of Ikkaku. He wouldn't have heard the end of her sass, and you were far easier to ask to follow obscure orders from time to time.

“Sir, when you say ‘self lubricate,’ can you explain what that means-?” Bepo asked quietly once more, prompting you to let out a soft cough to cover a nervous laugh. Law seemed to notice your nerves, gently checking in with you before he did anything without consent. With the gentle call of your name, he broke you from your thoughts and coaxed your eyes to meet his.

“Would you mind if I demonstrated a little bit about how lubrication is produced?” His question seemed the most straight forward to ask the most abstract concept you could ever hope to agree to.

Your captain, Trafalgar D Water Law: former warlord of the seas, and titled the surgeon of death, was asking for permission to get you wet in front of your crewmates. With a soft warmth illuminating your cheeks, you felt compelled to nod. You did not want to disappoint your captain, and having him so close to your intimate region was driving you to the brink of your self control.

“If you deem it necessary, and are prepared to, Captain. I won't stop you,” you responded, checking in with him to ensure he was comfortable with demonstrating this in front of his subordinates. While you were the one about to be made aroused in front of your crew, your captain was going to be the one to do it.

“Alright,” Law nodded down at you, again while giving your thigh a soft squeeze, “Thank you. You're an excellent assistant, and I appreciate you for doing this.”

Managing to give him a soft nod, you lay back and fixed your eyes on the silver roof of the Polar Tang’s med bay as you felt your captain's hand shift towards your pussy. Gently holding your pelvis up with the heel of his palm, he exposed your clit by pulling back the hood.

“Where most partners, once knowing where the clitoris is and what it does, would go charging in towards it,” Law spoke while the warmth of his hands moved towards your pearly bud, “You must only be kind to it. Gentle motions: either up and down,” your breath hitched as his fingers made contact with your clit, his motions following his instructions.

“You can also go side to side,” he rolled your clit with his index finger, your dry pussy now weeping with a small amount of arousal pooling at the entrance, “Or in a circular motion. Like so,” his wrist shifted, using both his index and unity finger to stimulate your clit. You continued to stare up at the ceiling, attempting to fight the way your body was responding to your captain and compartmentalize the feeling of his hands on your body.

“And now you see, there's a little bit of lubrication at the entrance,” his hands darted down, collecting a small amount of your slick, and raising his hand up to the light. “This is an indication of arousal, and will often pave the way for penatritive sex for those who enjoy it.” Law finished, bringing his hand away from your pussy and letting it throb in front of your crewmates.

“Now that we've got it wet, is there any other quest-,” Law’s words were stolen from him when Bepo interjected, much to both Shachi and Penguin's delight.

“-When you say ‘penatritive sex,’ do you mean when a penis goes in? I am so sorry,” Bepo added, his apologies directed at you, alongside his heartfelt gratitude, “I just want to learn. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.” Before Law had a moment to reprimand Bepo, you spoke up calmly and sweetly.

“No, it's okay Bepo. It's actually refreshing that you want to learn this,” you raise your head and give him a soft smile, “If you have a partner with these parts in future, I know they would appreciate you knowing how to satisfy them. Sorry for interrupting, sir. I won't do it again.” You turn your attention towards Law, offering him a soft smile before returning to your reclined position against the bay.

Law, despite his stoic exterior, attempted to ignore the twitch in his pants each time you called him ‘sir’ while being so close to your pussy. ‘It was all in the name of knowledge and medical education,’ he told himself, ‘Nothing more.’

“Penetrative sex, Bepo, can be with foreign objects, including: hands, tongue, tools, and another person’s anatomy that fits within,” he relayed, gently bringing his hands back to your pussy and massaging your clit once more. “The only thing you need to think about is how aroused they are when entering. So, you see how there's a little amount of lubrication at the center?”

Law lined up his tallest finger with your core, gently carding through your folds and rubbing your slit. Slowly inching his fingertip within your pussy, he listened for that gentle hiccup in your breathing that shot lightning straight to his cock. He clamped his eyes shut to take a moment of composure, focussing his attention on the way his gloved finger disappeared into your pussy, and continued.

“So now we've got our partner lubricated enough to enter,” he pressed a little more firmly, more of his finger disappeared upwards within your pussy, “It goes in with ease. In a gentle rocking motion, we can use our hand and fingers to draw out pleasure.” Law continued to press more of his finger within your pussy, trying not to groan at the way it swallowed his digit with a greediness he did not anticipate. He could feel how hot and wet you were through the glove, and it made him almost want to dismiss the three from the room and claim you on the table.

“Now, if we're satisfied with this,” Law continued rocking you on his hand, his attention now turning towards Shachi, Bepo and Penguin, “I could now talk about performing cervical testing and pap smears, like I intended in the beginning-.”

“-Once the entrance is lubricated enough,” Bepo again spoke up, “Should the clitoris be ignored? It's far from the opening, and I could imagine it hard to reach.” Law sighed, turning back towards you while his finger was still buried within your center to the knuckle.

“I am so sorry,” he offered you, his eyes empathetic while he choked back his anger at the line of questions, “Would… Would you mind if I made you cum? I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and I would only be doing it for the benefit of answering all of the follow up questions that I know will come from my brief explaiations.” Law gave you a few short rocks of his hand within your pussy, causing you to bite back a moan that he so easily could have ripped from you.

“If-...” you hissed, feeling more of the pressure returning to your abdomen the longer his hands remained focussing on your pussy. “If you think it's necessary, sir. I am at your mercy, and I will leave it up to you to decide how far you want to take this in the name of educational curiosity. Anything you need, I'm here to assist, sir.”

“Very well,” Law offered with a soft, cocky snicker in his tone, “I'm going to demonstrate a little bit of what I know about anatomy. Please just relax, let me take the reins, and tap my arm to stop me if it gets too much.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod, closing your eyes as you relax against the bay and gulping back your nerves, “Thank you, Captain.” You try to ignore the way you knew four sets of eyes were now fixed on the way your pussy sucked in Law’s finger as he dove it in and retracted it out.

“Okay, now that we're both consenting individuals for this small display, I'm going to demonstrate how to induce an orgasm from our willing crewmate here,” Law nodded to the other three, “You signed up for learning how to complete cervical screening, not learning how to deliver an orgasm. I am happy to cover them while you leave if you do not want-.”

“-Nope!”

“-Nuh uh, I'm good!”

“-I want to learn, Captain.”

You almost wanted to scream at the awkward tension in the room, feeling yourself slink back into the comfort of your shell and hide from them. Just as you were about to speak, Law drew his thumb up and began to gently roll your clit in slow and circular motions. Each time he drew his finger inside your pussy, he would match it with a soft roll of your clit beneath his thumb.

“This act is called ‘fingering’,” he added, likely for Bepo’s benefit while he continued to motion with his hands further, “While few partners enjoy being stimulated either internally or externally, I find the combination of the two actions gets a far greater result. See how much more lubrication freely falls from the entrance?” Law removed his finger from your pussy and held it up to the other three before returning it back to your slit.

“Now, I'm going to add a second finger to the mix,” he nodded, gently bringing his unoccupied hand up to the top of your thigh and giving it a small, appreciative squeeze, “I prefer using my two middle fingers, like so.” He lines up his fingers and gently eases them in your drooling pussy, rolling them against each other to stretch out your entrance.

“This leaves our index finger, pinky finger, and thumb free, so we can use them to-...” he draws his index finger and pinky against your labia and spreads it, his thumb returning to your clit and gently tapping on it with every in-thrust, “...Gently pry apart the vagina so we can see what we're doing, while using our thumb to stimulate the clitoris.”

Scrunching your eyes tightly shut, you used your top teeth to clamp hard on your lower lip to halt a wanton moan from falling from your lips. You couldn't, however, halt the way your back arched on the medical bay as your thighs began to tremble at the amount of pleasure your captain was ripping from you.

“Based on this reaction from our partner, how should I proceed?” he offered the other three, “See how they've arched their back, and their legs had began to twitch a little? This is the telltale sign that, regardless of the silence or not, they are enjoying what we are doing. Should I continue like this, speed up, or slow down?”

“I think we should slow down, draw it out a little more, and take our time with it,” Penguin offered in contemplation, “Withhold it a little to prolong the orgasm and build it up to a larger release.”

“I think we should stay at the same pace,” Bepo suggested, his tone more apprehensive, “Our partner seems to like it, and I would not want to disappoint them by changing what I'm doing in case they don't like it as much.”

“I think we should speed it up, hook our hands up, spit on it a little bit to add more lubrication, and see if we can make them squirt,” Shachi shrugged, uttering it is if it was the most obvious choice, “Use our tongue too, suck on the clit a little bit and make them get a little loud and nasty-.”

“-Keep up the language, Shachi, and I'll have you used as an example of what a prostate exam is,” Law’s warning tone, alongside his coaxing fingers had you whimpering. Your eyes floated open, eyelashes fluttering as he kept a steady rhythm on your pussy, and drawing out your pleasure with ease.

“While these are good suggestions, what we're missing is collecting preference from the one person that truly matters,” Law nodded to them, turning back his attention to you, “You're doing so well. Thank you for letting me do this. Would you prefer I slow down, speed up, or keep talking at the same pace while I change it up?” You gulp at his attention now returned to you, trying to compartmentalize the pleasure while communicating with your captain.

“I-...” you close your eyes, fighting a soft whimper at the way his hand manages to press against your most intimate regions and erogenous zones with the precision of a marksman hitting their target. Without much thought to the action, you couldn't help the words that fell from your lips.

“Please make me cum, captain. Please speed up a little bit, add some more pressure to my clit, and focus more on where your fingers touch me internally,” your soft plea was made with an almost innocent and begging look from your rounded eyes, “Please make me cum. I n-need to cum. Please, sir? Please?”

“Fuck,” a soft whisper from behind Law almost tore you away from your thoughts, Shachi’s hand moving to the front of his boiler suit and adjusting his hardening cock by pinching at the fabric. Law had no time to reprimand him, his entire attention focussed on you the moment your first utter of ‘please’ escaped your lips. Law sped up his motions, hooking up his digits and circling your clit with his thumb.

“Like this? I can feel the way you twitch around me when I push here. But if I push here,” Law moved his hand slightly up, leaning his body closer to yours while his hand was pressed on the base of your pelvis. Moving your hood back with his hand as he did earlier, he exposed more of your clit and spread your slick over your quivering pearl while his motions picked up, “I can stimulate all the parts of your clit at once. Do you like that?”

“Yes, please!” your back bowed as you felt your orgasm grow and bloom in your abdomen, “Please don't stop, captain! Please make me cum!” The fact your crewmates were watching as you were brought to your peak on Law's hands escaped you, your body responding to each rake of his fingers deep within your needy cunt.

“Fu-uck,” another whisper echoed from behind you, this time from Penguin who was clutching his clipboard closer to his chest and pressing his thighs close together.

“You can cum. Cum for me. Cum on my fingers,” Law kept his eyes on your face, continuing to beckon your orgasm from you while raising the intensity and speed of his motions. You felt the coil within your abdomen begin to wind tightly bound, your toes beginning to twitch and curl while your legs dug in against the stirrups.

“Nnnngh-... f-fuck-!” Back fully arching off the table, your lips parted in a silent cry as your pussy began to flutter around Law’s fingers. Both “A” and “T” continued to disappear into your pussy, his relentless stimulation of your clit pushing you from that ledge as you floated off into oblivion.

“There you go, there you go,” Law encouraged you, slowing down his motions as he felt you contract and pulse around his digits, “Good job. Look at you, cumming on my fingers. That's it, keep going.” You couldn't help but let out a higher whine at his praise as he continued to draw out your ecstasy with his skilled hands. He easily ushered you through it, careful to not overstimulate you as he draws you closer to your conclusion.

Feeling the last few waves of your pussy pulsing over his fingers, he holds them within, right down to the knuckle. He felt selfish in lingering longer than necessary, but he needed to feel you just that little bit longer as you panted and heaved through that high.

“So, you see how I slowed down as our partner experienced their orgasm?” Law slowly withdrew his fingers from your pussy, feeling the way it attempted to suck him back within and made him feel like internally groaning at the action, “Why did I do that?”

The room was in pregnant silence, nobody speaking a word, nor raising their hands to indicate their answers. With a soft roll of his eyes and a sigh, Law reached up and removed the elastic of his gloves with a snap over his wrists, breaking the men from their trance.

“To not overstimulate our partner. When the vagina experiences an orgasm, it is far more intense than the penis,” Law discarded the gloves into the bin and gently placed the blanket to cover up your exposed cunt, “The body doesn't feel it at just the abdomen, it feels it everywhere. If you keep it sped up, it overstimulates them to a point where it can become painful in some people. Communication is key with our partner. Any questions?”

Through the small amount of silence, the small voice of the polar-bear spoke shyly.

“Thank you,” he gently praised through his gratitude, rolling your name over his tongue with a blush dusting his white fur, “I appreciate you showing us this, and answering a lot of questions I was going to have before I asked them.”

You keep your eyes fixed on the roof as you raise up your hand. Extending your thumb, you gently squeak out through panting breaths: “Happy to help.”

While remaining composed and professional through the entirety of the ordeal, Trafalgar Law was far from unmoved by your display. He heard your whines for him, saw your back bowing and hips bucking, and remembered the way your pussy quivered against his fingers through each wave of your bliss. When he was alone in his quarters, he couldn't help but to bite his palm hard to muffle the keening cries of his bliss while fisting his cock to the memory. Ropes of cum spurting from his slit while he pictured the way your pussy would feel in the cusps of ecstasy atop his cock.

With the soft cry of your name muffled by his palm, he chased his high past overstimulation while picturing your begging. Eyes rolling, he bucked up into his balled fist while falling from a secondary edge of his own. He was desperate to feel you again: taste you, kiss you, consume you, worship you with his body against your own. All he could do was harden his resolve, charge up to you, and confess his adoration to you…

…Right after he cleaned up his mess.

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.

#one piece #x reader #birthday celebration 2024 #birthday event 2024 #law #op law #Trafalgar law #law x reader #x afab!reader #trafalgar law smut #one piece smut #2024 birthday party

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badgerbl00d · 2 months ago

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you've reached situationship central!

☆ characters: law, kidd (pt. 1)

☆ up next: TBA

☆ summary: being stuck in an on again off again (very indulgent) relationship with either the surgeon of death or captain eustass kidd requires a great deal of patience

☆ content: angsty, happy ending, nsfw, smut, complicated relationship drama, kidd is scottish, 18+ mdni

☆ a/n: hellooo i am finally settled at my uni and hoping to begin writing regularly again and start going through my requests (thank you for all of them by the way).. please enjoy me writing about my top two op crushes rnn <3

law:

#i’d forgive him so fast oops | 3.3k words

With Law, all of your meetings are at midnight or after, he’s painfully careful to ensure that no one has even the slightest clue of what your relationship has begun to blossom into– He’s scared of course. Anything could go wrong; his rationality is placed at risk every time you walk past him and he allows himself to indulge (even if for just a second) in the smell of your perfume– strong and floral. It lingers even after you’ve walked past him, ignoring him just like he asked you to do during the working hours on board the Polar Tang. Law does what he can to suppress the sting he feels when you, oh so obediently, listen to him. You do your job too well, he thinks, not even sparing him a glance if you’re not being directly addressed. ‘This is your own fault’, he has to remind himself. It pains him when the crew stays up late playing poker and cards and drinking alcohol, talking about all your hopes and dreams, when you entertain your crewmates with stories and he hears about how you’re there for them all in times of difficulty, a listening ear, a supporting friend, an emotional anchor to the crew.

Maybe, he thinks, I should end it. He knows that that’s the right answer, if you’re just friends he might allow himself to be welcomed into the radiance and warmth around you that he denies himself and has instructed you to deny to him. He’s too scared to lose you now.

On late nights, Law lays in bed, his room hazy from the cigarette he lets burn in an ashtray you gifted him and he thinks about the few direct conversations you’ve had about your… situation. That’s what you had called it, “Law,” you had said, “We have to talk about…”

“About what?” He still beats himself up over how he delivered that question, biting and poisonous. He can’t shake the memory of the frown it elicited on your face.

“Y/n, we don’t have to talk. Please, let’s not talk. Talking means we have to confront the reality of the situation.”

That was what he should’ve said. Instead his tongue betrayed him, acting faster than he could register. About what? Idiot, he thought.

You took a deep breath before answering him, “About us, Law. Our… situation.”

He had scoffed at you. Let out an indifferent huff, as though the matter was beneath him. His chest aches when he thinks about it now. The hurt on your face was so obvious.

“So talk.”

It was dark that night. He can’t remember if tears pooled on your lower lashes, or if it was a trick of the slight bit of light pouring into the dark room. He chooses to believe the latter option.

“What are we doing? I can’t… I don’t want to continue like this. Secret and hidden– I want to, I want to be able to talk to you during the day. To tell you about how I am and ask you about yourself I want to help you and be there for you. To kiss you whenever and hold your hand–”

“So do I,” he should have said, “I want that too.”

“You are there for me,” was his reply, instead, “As my trusted crewmate. And I never said you couldn’t talk to me, but I maintain my position. We can’t be discovered, the risks are-”

“Oh!” you exclaimed, sighing, “The risks? Our entire life is a risk. You think the crew would care? And what does it matter what you’ve said– it’s how you act. I’ve tried talking to you and you treat me with such an awful indifference Law. I respect your intelligence and leadership so please don’t act stupid.

What am I to you?”

He paused. Wrong move.

Your bottom lip trembled as you closed your eyes and inhaled. His memory doesn’t serve him very well but if you did cry that night it was now that the tears flowed.

“Okay,” you said, your voice incredibly soft. You had accepted defeat. He wanted to tear his skin off. This was agony. Why couldn’t he just say what he felt?

“I want you,” he says to himself now, picking the cigarette back up, placing it between his lips, “I love you.”

Three weeks too late, he thinks. The cigarette burns in the back of his throat, his chest filling with an uncomfortable warmth.

The last few weeks had been uncomfortable to say the least. You refused to talk to him, and he didn’t blame you. He barely saw you, the last time he’d gotten a proper look at your face was six days ago now. You looked beautiful, maybe he should have said something.

He lost track of time. An hour has passed now since he laid down to smoke, or has it been two? His head is spinning, never has regret gripped his heart so aggressively.

The aching in his chest tugs him out of bed and into the hallway. He finds himself walking toward the library where he knows you’ll be.

Where less than a month ago you were sat on his lap, soft arms gently wrapped around his shoulders as he kissed up and down your arms, buried inside you.

He missed your warmth, the way just being in your presence felt like sitting next to a fireplace, drinking a cup of tea. Your touch soft and reassuring, Fuck, he thinks, fuck.

The coolness of the metal floor jolts him out of his daze, he’s moving with a purpose now.

It’s not too late, he reassures himself.

The library door is closed, a warm light pours out into the cool, blue hallway from underneath the door. His hand hovers over the door knob for a moment, listening. Silence.

Law gently opens the door, and is welcomed by the sight of you fast asleep on Shachi’s shoulder, your crewmate’s arm wrapped around you.

Law pauses, Shachi looks up. He subdues the jealousy that quickly spreads throughout his body.

Shachi shoots him a look, as if to say, “I’m doing my best.”

Law’s throat hurts, speaking is too risky. He sends back a puzzled look.

Shachi beckons him over, placing his free hand up to his lips, “Shh.”

Law’s head feels like it’s about to explode. He can’t do this right now. His stomach twists at the sight of his crewmate’s arm around you. He was always so mesmerized by how you slept– envious, even, at how gently your eyes closed, how your soft lips parted once you were out, how deeply you slept.

His mind slips from him, replaying memories of how you’d cling to him when spending the night in his room, your arms securely around his neck, your face tucked into him. The sound of you giggling in the morning when he’d wake you up with kisses peppered all over your face and neck, trailing down and down your body. He inhales, trying to recollect himself– The memory of your body is overpowering. His hands clench into fists at his sides.

“She’s been asleep for about two hours,” Shachi started. Law’s chest tightened, two hours?

“I didn’t know what to say to her. She’s so… sad. Some guy, I think, broke her heart. Or, is currently breaking it. I don’t want to pry. Maybe you should talk to her?”

Law concentrated all of his efforts on answering his subordinate to avoid collapsing to the floor and begging you for forgiveness right then and there, Shachi be damned. His worst crime, in all of his life, he thought, is to have done this to you.

The thought of being ‘some guy’ that broke your heart nauseates him, he has to fix this.

“Captain?” Shachi seemed to have picked up on Law’s distress.

“Shachi,” Law started, his eyes fixed on you– his expression must have been something pained, or regretful, “Leave her here. Go to bed.”

Shachi’s brows furrowed. Law tore his eyes away from you to look at him, “I’ll take care of her.”

The redhead quickly picked up on the subtext and inhaled, about to say something but bit his tongue. Shachi gently removed his arm from around your shoulders, propping your head up on the sofa behind you and stood quietly, making room for Law.

“Captain,” he started, shooting him a look that wasn’t quite placeable. Disappointment? Anger? It wasn’t either, perhaps something in between, he decided you were capable enough to handle this yourself, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Law sat down next to you. He wanted to laugh. You had a way about you, even in such a moment of difficulty for Law, that made him want to give into you completely. God knows he had spent every second he’d known you fighting that urge. You slept on, completely undisturbed by any of the commotion around you. A strand of hair fell across your face, an obstruction to an otherwise perfect view. He brought a hand up to it, gently pushing it to the side, tucking it behind your ear. You stir, slightly.

He hates himself, he thinks as he brings a firm hand to your arm, and gently shakes you to a conscious state.

You wake with droopy eyelids, sleep still generously distributed throughout your body. It pains him to wake you, he knows you need the rest. He watches your lashes touch your rosy cheeks as you blink your eyes open, gathering your surroundings. You yawn, stretching your hands above your head, your shirt rising just enough to show off your lower tummy. Law curses whatever devil placed you in his life.

“Mmm.. What time ‘s it, Chi?” you ask. Jealousy rears its ugly head in Law’s chest at the use of a nickname for Shachi.

Law clears his throat, “One twenty three in the morning.”

You jolt, straightening your posture, upon recognizing your captain’s unmistakably deep, tired voice.

“Law,” you say, looking at him, “I was just leaving, actually. Shachi was supposed to wake me up an hour ago..” You adjust the hem of your shirt and push your hair out of your face. An awkward silence filled the room– an awful reminder of how fucked up your… situation had become.

You can’t bear it, Law can tell, any more than he can. Your discomfort is obvious and he hates to be the root of it.

“Well, goodnight,” you say standing. Your voice wavers.

“Y/n,” Law says, “Sit. Please.”

You wanted nothing more than to tell him to fuck off. You’d even rehearsed it with Ikkaku.

“Fuck you Law,” you’d practiced, “Fuck you and never speak to me again I never want to be around you. You’re so…”

That was usually where Ikkaku would have some suggestions:

“Immature? Selfish? Mean? Evil? Misogynistic? Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah,” you’d agree, “But I don’t think I can say that to him directly, he is the Captain after all.”

“He’s also a doctor,” she’d observed, “But you don’t seem very healed to me.”

These conversations replayed in your head as you sat down, following his orders.

You kept your gaze focused downward, your bare feet shuffled awkwardly against the carpet.

“We should vacuum this,” you said, “Feels kinda dusty.”

Silence settled between the two of you. It was unbearable.

You continued, “I’ll mention it to Penguin, um, I know he likes stuff cleaned a certain way. And, oh, right, I meant to tell you about the books we’re picking up at the next port. They ran out of the edition of the Watson book you ordered–”

“Y/n.”

You shut up. You could feel the tears start to well in your eyes. No, goddamnit, you thought, Don’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m… sorry.”

You looked up at him, a puzzled expression on your face.

“No, you’re not,” you said. If there were any other noise coming from anywhere on the ship he would not have heard you, you spoke so quietly.

“No, you’re not,” you repeated.

Law inhaled, guilt had never had such a physically debilitating effect on his body.

“Y/n, listen. I am. I can’t sleep, or eat, or think, I can’t–”

“Neither can I, so, thanks for that. It’s been a great few weeks for me.”

He swallowed.

“Please look at me.”

You look up, your cheeks coated in two parallel streaks of tears. His eyes are red, the bags under them a deep shade of gray. He really hasn’t slept. You curse yourself as you reach a hand up to his face, and scoot yourself into his lap.

His strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him, chest to chest, and he places his forehead against yours.

You feel a small string of tears fall into your lap. He’s crying, you realize.

“I fucked up,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

He runs a hand up and down your back, it’s unfortunately soothing. You want so badly to push him off of you- deny his touch and affection, but as his hand slows and his grip on you tightens, as he pulls you into him even further and allows himself to indulge in the feeling of your body against his you know that you’ve once again fallen into his trap.

“I can’t keep doing this, Captain.”

There was a time when hearing his title come from your lips elicited an unspeakably sinful desire within him. Hearing it from your mouth was such a delicious indulgence. Now he knows you use it to distance yourself from him- to avoid using his name.

“I know, baby,” he says, “I know.”

You sit up in his lap, wiping your tears.

“I can fix this,” he reassures you, “I promise.”

“How? What is there to fix?”

He’s silent.

“I thought about what you said, that night,” you continue.

‘That night,’ he wants to blow his brains out. That terrible night when he started this, when he couldn’t answer a simple question, when he started the downward spiral of the past three weeks, the tension between the two of you getting worse with each passing day.

“You’re right, Law,” you went on, “To not have answered my question. We aren’t anything. You’re my captain and I’m your crewmate– nothing more, nothing less.”

You both knew that was a lie. Here you were in the dim candlelight on the library couch, the navy blue ocean stirring just outside the glass window behind you, sitting on his lap letting him hold you. He pulled you into his chest, laying your head down onto his shoulder. You let him. It was a delicate thing, to play such a game of cat and mouse, your roles always shifting back and forth. You let yourself be pulled into him, sinking into his touch, arching your back into his chest doing whatever possible to be closer to him for even just a moment.

He brought a hand up to run through your hair, and rested his cheek on the side of your head.

The silence was less bitter this time. You both sit in it for several minutes, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

You try to resist the urge for a split second, and then, as usual, cave into his touch. You place a soft kiss on his neck (a spot of complete and absolute weakness for Law). He responds with a kiss on your head.

He inhales, and you brace yourself.

“Y/n.”

You don’t respond.

“I love you.”

Your cheeks immediately are covered by an onslaught of tears you hadn’t even felt forming. You sniffle, wrapping your arms around him tighter. He squeezes you harder, before making you sit up and look at him, face to face.

He’s given up. He’s never been more fucked than he is now. He watches you, your expression, for a moment. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, he thinks, cheeks pink from his body heat, lashes damp from the tears.

“Y/n, I am sorry,” he wipes away your tears with one hand, the other tangling itself into your hair. You sniffle, a frown settling on your face.

“I want you,” he confesses, “Always. I think about you always and I can’t sleep and I’ve been telling myself that it’s because of work but it’s you. I can’t sleep without you. I can’t think without you. Everything reminds me of you, my pillow still smells like you, your clothes show up in my laundry, you have jewelry on my desk I can’t escape you. I don’t want to.”

You softened at this admission, but with Law there was always a catch.

“But?” you ask.

He sighs, “If anything were to happen to you I’d be responsible. It felt better, safer to end, or deny things and keep you safe than keep going and risk your safety.”

“I’m a pirate, Law, I’m at risk anyway. Don’t lie to me, that’s not the only reason.”

He kisses your forehead, “I know, I know. I am worried about the risks of another crew finding out or, god forbid, the navy. But I can’t… be without you. I haven’t slept or eaten or… worked, really. I’m scared you don’t feel the same.”

You don’t what overcomes you in that moment, but the next thing you know your lips are attached to his, his hand pulling you into him by your neck.

You whine when he pulls back, ignoring the tears flowing down your cheeks.

He kisses your nose, your forehead, your cheeks as he wipes your tears whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay… I’m sorry.”

His lips find yours again, and he kisses you more aggressively this time– it’s carnivorous and hungry, his grip on your waist tightens enough to bruise and you wince.

“L-Law, be gentle,” you whimper.

His grip softens slightly and he pulls away from your mouth to start planting sloppy, wet kisses on your neck.

You mewl, arching your back into him completely melting at his touch. Soft moans escape you as you tug at the hem of his shirt, helping him pull it off.

You run a hand over his abs, savoring the view as he helps you take your own shirt off.

“Wait, Y/n, wait,” Law manages to get out, his breath heavy and fast, “What are we?”

You laugh, kissing him, slipping your tongue between his lips. He moans and you ignore his question. You pull away a sticky string of saliva connecting your puffy pink lips to his. You can feel how hard he is beneath you, and grind down on it ever so slightly.

Law bites back a moan, throwing his head back on the couch leaving his neck wide open for you. You gently bite down on his neck, kissing it after.

You missed him so badly, no one had ever brought out in you what Law did. His confession immediately healed all the previous wounds he’d inflicted on your heart, wounds that only he would have been able to heal anyway.

“Law, I need you,” you cry.

“I’m here, baby, I’m right here,” he coos, holding you.

“I need you, always. Not conditionally. Not after midnight. Always.”

He sighs, a silent acknowledgement of his wrongs.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I’ve never… felt like this. I didn’t want to mess up, I suppose. Or ruin things between us. I’d rather stop this and still be able to see you every day than have you be mine and lose you for it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Law. I promise.”

He places another kiss on your forehead, sleep begins to take over in Law.

“Law,” you pout, sitting up, “It’s cold.”

He blinks, taking a moment to process your words, savoring the way you say his name, “Okay, baby, let’s go to my room. Stay the night? Please?”

You think about it for a second, “Okay.”

“I love you,” he says.

You pause. His chest tightens.

“I love you, too.”

Law picks you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder as he walks back through the Polar Tang, toward his room.

He smiles, you’re going to be upset about the smell of smoke.

“Baby,” he says.

“Hm.”

“Let’s tell everyone at breakfast, tomorrow.”

You perk up, “Tell them what?”

He laughs, and kisses the top of your head, “That you’re mine.”

kidd:

my fav scottish #pussypounder | 3.9k words

Your vision begins to blur at the edges, as Kidd’s grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly. You’d complain if you were able to form any thoughts other than enjoying the rhythmic slap of his hips against your ass, your mind numb as you begin to drool from the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your clit. You yelp at the sudden sharp pain of Kidd’s metal hand slapping your ass, it energizes you to match his thrusts halfway. Kidd loves watching you fuck yourself on his big, fat dick in doggy-style, his chest swells with pride at his ability to reduce you to such a pathetic, whiny personal slut for him. The sound of sloppy, wet slaps fills the room, a consistent tempo of plap, plap, plap.

“Feel good, lassie?” Kidd laughs, his pace never faltering.

“Mmmff, fuckkk Kidd, please don’t stop!”

“I‘m getting close, love,” his voice now slightly strained, “Where should I finish, hm?”

“Inside,” you beg, “Please, inside!”

You yelp as his metal hand once again makes harsh contact with the fat of your ass, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let bliss take over, now approaching your own end.

“Kidd,” you whine, “Gonna… cum!”

“That’s right, lassie, cream all over me,” Kidd growls.

His thick accent makes your clit throb, and he can feel you tightening around him.

“Ya like when I talk to ya like that?” his hand moved from your neck to the base of your scalp where he roughly grabbed a generous handful of hair, yanking your head back as he bent over to kiss you.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, your mind completely hazy from the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, “Mmf mmm-”

Kidd pulls away, a deep laugh filling the room, “What’s that, love?”

“Gonna.. cum, daddy!”

Your captain’s pace slows ever so slightly, he savors every inch of pleasure he can draw from your drooling pussy– you know he’s close.

“Cum with me, sweetheart,” he commands.

It only takes a few more strokes before you oblige, sinking further into the mattress as you release your orgasm and feel Kidd finishing inside you. He indulges you in a few more strokes; he loves watching the creamy, wet mixture the two of you produce whenever he cums inside of you.

“Good girl,” he says as he slowly pulls out, before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“C’mere,” he beckons you toward him, patting his chest for you to lay on. You obey. He brings a hand to your neck, and kisses the top of your head before closing his eyes. He starts snoring a few minutes later.

To say sex with Kidd was amazing would be the understatement of the year, it was heavenly, divine, rough, passionate, wonderful. He knew your body better than his own, being with him was indescribably delicious. The sex you had filled your mind for days and days after, so much so that Kidd had begun to recognize it on your face when you were thinking about your latest encounter. A dazed, hazy look would cloud your eyes during meetings, dinner, days out in the towns you stopped at. It drove Kidd insane, knowing you were thinking about him that much– and, for the most part, he was always happy to indulge.

Pulling you (and your panties) to the side whenever he had time, Kidd was a very generous man when it came to you, always happy to give you exactly what you needed. After all, he’d tell himself, he needed you functioning at full capacity and if this was how he needed to remind you of that, who was he to complain?

He was just as entranced by you, though he’d never admit it out loud. More than once he caught himself seeking you out just to talk, to spend time in your presence. He’d come up with poorly thought out, half-assed excuses to be near you.

“Y/n,” he’d say, “Come help me in the workshop lass, you have small enough hands to fix this screw.”

Or, “Come hold this light while I work, love.”

“Come read with me, sweetheart, I need your opinion on the best kind of metal to use.”

“Grab me an apple from the kitchen, will ya, lassie?”

It was obvious to you, of course, given that it was a fault you yourself echoed through your own actions.

“Kidd, can you zip up my dress for me?”

“Kidd, could you fasten my necklace for me?”

“Kidd, taste this, tell me if it’s good.”

“Kidd, Kidd, Kidd…”

Everyone else on the crew found it endearing, you brought out something mature in their Captain– which they greatly appreciated.

“Looks like he just needed to be having sex regularly,” Wire joked.

You couldn’t disagree.

You and Kidd worked so well together, you’d found yourselves fighting back to back a handful of times now moving in sync with one another, not having to communicate, simply understanding how the other thinks, moves, works.

You lost count of how many nights you’d spent in his room, and vice versa. It was terrible to admit but you were attached. You slept better with his chest against your back, strong arm wrapped around you. Your day was better when you woke up to his snoring and got to kiss him awake.

You laid now on his chest, sweat drying on your forehead and back, wincing internally.

This wasn’t great.

Yes, you worked well together and the sex was amazing– but you hadn’t quite worked your way up to admitting that maybe there was a deeper attachment brewing, and you knew your Captain was definitely not thinking that way at all.

Besides, there was something freeing about the casualty of it all. Kidd was there when you were unbearably horny (which had been often, as of late) and you were there when he was (which, again, had been quite often as of late).

No strings attached! That was a good thing… Right? You were free to do as you wished, see other people, reconnect with old flames you crossed paths with on the open ocean, and there were no worries about childish feelings or getting hurt.

Right?

Kidd had fallen asleep, you could hear his soft snores and his hand that had been rubbing your back had fallen limp by his side.

Fuck, you thought. This wouldn’t do. You liked Kidd, but he was the last person on Earth you needed to fall in love with.

You slowly sat up, inching your way to the edge of the bed. You went to stand, when you were jerked back by a metal finger pulling you by the hem of your panties.

“Where’re ya goin’?” He asked, voice deep and raspy with sleep.

You ignored the heat between your legs.

“To bed, Kidd. Goodnight.”

He laughed, “Come lay down then.”

You were silent. Why shouldn’t you? You’d slept with him hundreds of times before.

No attachments.

“I… sleep better in my bed,” you said. Awful excuse, you noted.

“Alright then,” he sat up, yawning, “Let’s go to your room, then.”

“Kidd…” you started. You didn’t know what to say. What were you feeling? Attachment? Love? Had you ever really been in love before? What did that even feel like?

The nature of your relationship was unspoken but mutually understood. This, whatever this was, was casual, no strings attached, sexual, non-exclusive.

He sat up, making his way to the edge of the bed to sit next to you, “Somethin’ wrong?”

This wasn’t supposed to be hard. It was supposed to be fun, easy, a stress reliever.

“Um, yeah, I just– I started my period so I have to go wash up and stuff. I’ll see you in the morning,” you lied.

Something’s wrong, Kidd thought. Say something, he urged himself.

“Let me take care of you, lassie,” he said, gently placing an arm around your waist, “Think a bit of blood bothers Captain Eustass Kidd?”

You let out an unconvincing laugh, “It’s alright Kidd, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood, making your way to the door.

“Alright,” he sighed, lying back down on his bed, sure now that something was wrong with you, “But give me a kiss before ya go.”

You paused at the door, back to your Captain.

A moment passed.

Another moment.

“Goodnight then, Y/n.”

You walked out, closing the door behind you, cursing yourself.

Kidd lied back down, fully awake now. His stomach turned, something resembling nausea settled in his abdomen. Was he too forward? It hardly seemed likely that asking you to stay the night was out of bounds, especially when he had just been buried nine inches deep, emptying a load in you. He sighed, and rolled over onto his stomach as his mind sought a possible explanation.

You weren’t on your period, that much was certain. Not that he was tracking your cycle, of course. He definitely didn’t go to significant lengths to make sure his schedule was freed up when you ovulated.

Maybe, he thought, the feeling of nausea increasing, There’s someone else.

He dismissed the thought quickly, but it ate at him. You leaving so suddenly, not even offering him a kiss goodbye… You didn’t even look at him.

Kidd, despite the recent calmness he had, was still Kidd and the more he ruminated on the sickening possibility the more real it became.

That must be it, he convinced himself, What obligation does she have to me anyway? We’re not… together.

His chest ached, it infuriated him. He spent the better part of the night tossing and turning, contemplating whether he had any right to kick down your door and demand you give him the name of your lover or if he should simply never speak to you again. Should he ask the other members of the crew? He didn’t want to involve them; it was his problem, he decided.

When inspiration did finally strike around five in the morning, just before the sun had started to rise, he ignored the gut feeling that had begun to indicate that it wasn’t the best idea.

Tomorrow, he decided, when we stop for supplies I’ll find and flirt with a pretty girl. Give her a taste of her own medicine. With this resolution (that he had absolutely convinced himself was the best approach to the situation) he fell asleep, hard.

It was too cold, you thought as you lounged in the library of the Victoria Punk, cuddled up by the fire you’d had Heat set for you before he left. You had opted out of going into town, and since you weren’t able to cite lovesickness as a reason you stuck with the period excuse. You didn’t miss how Kidd rolled his eyes at you when you offered the excuse again to him.

The windows were icy, the temperature continuing to drop as it got later and later. It had quickly heated up in the library, you fanned yourself with an old copy of your favorite book. You passed multiple hours on your reading chair, in a hoodie Kidd had let you borrow months ago. Too bad he’s not here, you thought. You faded in and out of sleep, drowsy from the hot fire and the poor quality of sleep from last night. The sun was set when the peace and quiet was disturbed by the sound of a woman’s light and airy laughter. It carried through the ship, leading you to sit up and turn to look for the source of the sound.

Your chest tightened at the sight that greeted you, and you were never more desperate for something that could hide the expression of disgust and hurt you felt forming on your face.

Kidd sauntered on board with his hand around the waist of a woman you’d never seen before. She was wearing a dress notably similar to one you owned that he had complimented multiple times. The longer you looked (though you tried to keep it short) the more you noted similarities between you and her. Similar height, hair color, facial features, bodily assets. The moment you felt your bottom lip tremble you turned back in your chair, standing quickly and gathering your things, making a beeline to your room.

Kidd made eye contact with you on your way out, eyes slightly widening upon seeing your sweater.

Heat and Wire walked up on board the ship a few minutes later, and shot you a sympathetic look. It was no surprise to them that Kidd was being immature over a simple misunderstanding (he disclosed last night’s events to them in more detail than was necessary) and despite their advice to not follow through with his idiotic plan, he did anyway.

Kidd immediately knew he had fucked up, bad. The look on your face was enough to tell him that he had crossed a line and clearly had suffered a severe lapse in judgment. He immediately dismissed the woman, leaving Heat and Wire in the extremely awkward position of having to walk her off the ship– they made a mental note to make sure Kidd was on bathroom duty for the next month. He ran after you, but the door to your room was already shut and, he wiggled the handle for a few seconds, locked too.

He knocked every few minutes, growingly increasingly agitated at your refusal to talk to him.

Knock, knock.

“Y/n, c’mon lass, you misunderstood– I don’t even know her!”

“I was just… I was– ugh, I don’t know what I was thinking!”

“I wanted to make you jealous, lass, just open the door so I can explain.”

After the third hour of knocking to no avail Kidd resolved that he would simply wait you out, you had to come out eventually.

It was another three hours, nearly midnight, by the time you opened your door. Kidd was half asleep when you opened the door, and snapped back to full consciousness when he saw you.

Your brows were furrowed and you looked at him with more disgust and contempt than usual. He crossed his arms and blocked your path.

“Get out of my way.”

“Talk to me,” he responded.

“About?”

He laughed, your blood boiled, “So you’re not upset? About… anything at all?”

“No, dearest Captain, why on Earth would I be upset?”

“Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You scoffed, “Really, Eustass I didn’t take you for such an idiot. Get out of my way.”

He sighs, a smirk still settled onto his face, and moves to the side, gesturing for you to go ahead.

You walk past him, making your way toward the kitchen. You don’t fail to notice how he tags along beside you.

“Ugh, Kidd! What? What do you want from me?”

“Tell me why you’re upset.”

“You know why I’m upset, moron.”

“Tsk, tsk, that’s no way to talk to your Captain.”

You bite your lip, “I’m sure she’d talk to you exactly how you want. Stop following me.” You go to take another step, but he grabs your arm pushing you toward the wall of the hallway. He pressed his chest into your back, pinning you against the wall as he bent down bringing his lips to your ear and teasing you with a few kitten licks.

He grabbed your wrists, holding them against your lower back with an uncharacteristically gentle grip. Like he was daring you to fight back. You relax into his grip, arching your back to rub your ass against his bulge.

You hate how weak he makes you.

A deep breath escapes Kidd, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. Your thighs are starting to get sticky. A soft moan escapes your lips as he presses his hard cock into the curve of your ass.

“Mhm,” Kidd teases, “Somethin’ else ya want to tell me, lassie? Go on, use your words.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you, asshole,” you snap back, trying to suppress the urge to give him the attention he so desperately needs.

“But how often do you keep yourself busy with other women?”

You break. His grip slightly tightens, his confidence faltering for a split second.

“Ohh,” he remarks, an infuriating smile settling onto his face, “You’re jealous.”

“No, I’m just bored.”

He moves your wrists into his left hand, his right wrapping around to the front of your hips and under your skirt. He runs his thumb along your slit, your panties dripping with arousal.

“Doesn’t feel like you’re bored, love,” he says, pressing harder against you, “Please, darling, tell me what’s wrong. I already miss you.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “Right. And you really think I’m stupid enough to believe that? I’ve already told you what’s wrong.”

“I do miss you,” he laughs, “And, no you haven’t. You’re too smart to be truly bothered by my little stunt earlier. Somethin’ else is bothering ya– and don’t say it’s your period I know that’s not true.”

You pouted, refusing to answer the question.

He ran a thumb over your lips, bending slightly to be able to gently kiss you. You don’t fight back.

He lets go of your wrists and you turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders bringing him in for another kiss.

He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, he presses you into the wall, slipping his tongue past your lips.

This is hell, you think, Just tell him you’re done.

But, then again, you weren’t. That was the issue.

Your chest was tight and your brain foggy as you pulled away from the kiss.

Kidd’s chest heaved with heavy, deep breaths as he began the process of regaining his composure. He slowly lowered you down the wall until your feet touched the floor. He leaned against the wall, his metal arm resting above your head, caging you in. He placed a kiss on your forehead, and cupped your face with his right hand, bringing it up to his own. You stood on the tips of your toes and he bent lower to more easily pepper your face in kisses.

“‘m sorry lassie,” he said, between kisses, “I’m an arse.”

A huge one, you thought.

You kissed him back, his lips salty with the taste of sweat.

“Forgive me? Please? I… You mean a lot to me. Don’t be upset, I can't take it.”

A smile crept onto your face. You placed a hand on his chest, it felt like touching marble. He was so difficult to resist– but your mind flashed you the image of his arm around another woman and you steeled yourself. You pushed him back, slipping out from beneath his grasp walking out of the hallway back toward your own room.

He followed after you like a dog on a leash.

“Y/n, bonnie lass, hear me out, baby” he pleaded; You walked just fast enough to stay out of his reach, “I am sorry, love.”

You kept walking, your poor Captain trailing behind you uttering pleas, “Y/n, slow down lass, let me explain. She doesn’t mean anything to me, I just wanted to make you jealous.”

You stopped, finally having arrived at your destination.

“Make me jealous?” you repeated, turning to look at him, an expression of disgust settling on your face, “By bringing her on to OUR ship, hm? That was your genius idea, Captain? How did that work out for you?”

He sheepishly looked down at the floor, bringing a hand up to run through his hair. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment.

“Why on Earth would you ever pull some bullshit like that with me? I’d have never done that to you.”

This did get a rise out of him, “Oh, you’d never? So leaving me last night the way you did– with no explanation and a half-assed excuse is any better? You couldn’t even look at me, you refused to kiss me! Kiss me. It only makes sense you have another man on your mind.”

Your expression slightly relaxed, “Another man– that’s what you really think? That’s what this is all about?”

Kidd was silent, his stubbornness had gotten the better of him.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to offer him an explanation.

“Last night,” you started, “I got scared–” “Scared? Of me?”

“Kidd!”

“Right, sorry, go on then.”

“I realized…” you paused, it was harder to say to his face than you expected, “I like you.”

Kidd’s countenance softened, “Well, lass, I’d hope you like me by now.”

“No, Kidd, I like you– I love–,” you bit your bottom lip, cutting yourself off.

Your captain’s eyes widened, before a sly smile began to spread on his face.

You ignored it, “I get that you don’t feel the same, I know this isn’t anything… serious, but–”

His arm shot out to wrap around you and pull you into him, you brought your own hands in front of yourself to push against his chest, maintaining the distance between the two of you.

“C’mere, lassie,” he laughed, easily overpowering you and hugging you into him, “You’re a stubborn little thing, ya know?”

You huffed, tears pooling on your lower lash line, this was all so frustrating.

“Look at me,” he said, lifting your gaze with a finger under your chin, “I love you, Y/n.”

You looked up at him and the sight of your pink, pouting lips and watery eyes made him dizzy.

He kissed you, squeezing your cheeks with his warm hand and squeezing your waist with the metal one. You deepened the kiss, slipping your tongue past his lips, reaching behind you to open the door to his bedroom.

Kidd understood your request plainly, picking you up and walking to his bed with you. The door shut with a harsh bang, drawing you both out of your momentary reverie.

Your captain gently placed you on the bed, pulling back to admire you.

“You’re the most beautiful woman on the ocean, you know?”

You smiled, blowing him a kiss. Kidd turned to lock the door and started undressing, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Your anxieties had completely evaporated since his lips touched yours, you took a deep breath to process your confessions to each other.

A smile made its way onto your features and your cheeks darkened.

Kidd made his way back onto the bed, and pulled you into him, where you laid on top of him resting your chin on his chest.

“I do love ya, lassie, I wasn’t joking,” he said.

“I know, Captain,” you said, visibly reassuring him.

“Shall I help you get these off, sweetness?” he asked, tugging at the hem of your shorts.

You nod but hold up a finger, you weren’t quite done reprimanding him.

“Captain,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Yes, lovely?”

“If you ever pull some shit like that again, I’ll kill you.”

His smile dropped for a split second before he started laughing, and rolled over to pin you against the mattress.

He bent down to kiss and suck at your neck.

“Eustass,” you said, voice flat, “I’m serious.”

“Mmm,” he left one more kiss before answering, “I know you are, trust me.

Now let me make it up to ya.”

521 notes · View notes

otkuhotgirl · 3 months ago

Text

─── 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐅𝐅 .

# with portgas d. ace.

the mera mera no mi had a dozen benefits — setting your walls alight was but one of them.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, (late) day five. smut (mdni!). temperature play. devil-fruit usage. oral (reader!receiving). fingering. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.4k.

portgas d. ace had fed himself with a fruit that granted him particularities similar to those of a furnace. fire coursed through his veins — oftentimes he mused the thought that it had burned whichever cells connected him to his father still. heat gave him a reputation; an untouchable anatomical state. fire fist ace, the fearsome second-in-command. flames and warmth were but a weapon and he never thought of it beyond that. until he found that the feelings labored for you burned brighter than whatever spark his fingers conjured.

lust first settled during the search for akagami no shanks — the man who had saved his younger brother’s life. amidst ice and torrid snow, you stood: a single thread of life with a clear distaste for the cold. hunched, trembling figure whose knees were pressed to one’s chest, cursing through parted lips, at the corner in an attempt to disappear from sight. when ace sat by your side, heat emanating from his flesh, you immediately pressed yourself against him, hiding your face as you clung to his arm. he had laughed then, hugging you until the trembling ceased, growing hotter at the sound of your relieved sigh.

the second time had been during a sudden — yet common — change in the weather at the approach of a winter island. ace had no intentions of lingering there whatsoever, and briefly instructed his crew to be swift in their business. you opted to remain on the ship, covered in tides of blankets with a lukewarm cup of untouched coffee in hand. ace wordlessly set a place behind you, nervous, yet smooth, as he pressed his palms over your shoulders and began an amateurish massage. he feared the prospect of his physical strength causing you pain, yet you merely leaned into his touch, moaning with your eyes closed as the shared warmth coursed through your body. ace thought himself vicious; disgusting; for he had felt a sudden twitch in his cock at the sounds.

at last, the snap came once he mingled with the whitebeard pirates, his past crewmates choosing to linger; accepting the shift in captains. you were bedridden, and marco had commented that heat could increase the comfort during menstrual cramps. ace caught on the words left unsaid, and offered, once again, to be your soothing warmth; your healing flame. you sounded grateful altogether, and had no problems falling asleep in his arms whatsoever, allowing his hands to be placed on the external root of your pain. sharing the bed had been enough for you to claim one another; to officiate the clear-as-day relationship born from reciprocal love.

although things had changed ever-since — from endless travels to foreign lands, to the survival of a terrible war —, ace’s hidden desire regarding his devil-fruit persevered. it was shown regardless of the weather, twitching erection even in alabasta, when sweat pooled on your cleavage; when he’d see you swimming, sea-salt clinging to your flesh; or the particular instances of quietness, when his fingers would travel through your body until they found your clit. oftentimes, when his cock was lost amidst your warm walls, perhaps out of sheer instinct, he’d find himself increasing the temperature of it, if only to access your reaction. a complicated gamble; the fear of maiming, alight fire born from his excitement. yet, you remained restless, as though understanding that he had a fair share of thoughts unshared. ace feared the moment in which you’d corner him, for he’d cave to your every desire.

he sighed, clicking his tongue in deep thought. the second thereafter, ace all but choked on his food, punching his chest with certain strength. he half-noted the glass of water placed on the table, and spat a final chunk of meat at a particularly harsh slap on his back. ace’s hand gripped the cup and he chugged the liquid, tear-filled eyes observing your figure — sitting on the other side of the small table, an interested expression on your face.

“careful now, hotstuff,” you scolded, and he flushed at the name. “where have you gone this time?”

the question had increased in frequency since the death of whitebeard — his chosen father. ace was unused to the idea of sharing his pain, rather preferring to bottle it up. you respected said decision, yet, more often than not, his prolonged quietness proved itself to be obnoxious. you stated that his thoughts traveled to a place you could not reach, and in said instants, you were forced to scratch the surface of his mind and tether it to the present at hand.

“nowhere important,” ace answered, clearing his throat. you merely raised an eyebrow, well aware of the poor-crafted lie. he gave in, unable to withstand the expectating — borderline disappointed — look on your face. “promise not to be creeped out?”

“by you?” the question posed itself as though a joke; incredulous. “ace—”

“i know,” he interrupted through a sigh. “still, i would hate to leave you uncomfortable.”

“try me,” you encouraged, nothing but love explicit through your features.

ace stretched his hand, palm facing you. he coaxed your approach with a movement of his index, tensing once your wrist was pressed against his skin. he was hesitant — fearful, even — when he activated his devil-fruit, a tempting and gradual increase in his temperature. you hummed, circling your wrist on his palm, testing the waters.

“warm,” you stated matter-of-factly, tapping your fingers on his arm. ace repeated the previous action, multiplying the valor of warmth; recoiling the flames that threatened to lick your flesh. “warmer.”

ace closed his fingers around your wrist, caressing the tender inches of skin. “is it distressing? painful?”

you chuckled, moving your head in denial. “it’s soothing, ace. it’s you.”

he smiled softly, breathing in order to gather further courage. “would you mind if i tried it elsewhere?”

you blinked, growing quiet for the briefest instance, although that had been enough to bloom certain insecurities within him. ace’s lips parted, tongue prepared to spill a dozen apologies — until your hand pushed the plates and cups aside and you sat on the table, sliding towards him. ace was aghast at your willingness; your excitement.

“now?” you inquired softly, gripping the hem of your dress, legs already crossed.

“you want it now?” a stupid question, truly, when one considered the blown state of your pupils.

“please,” you pleaded, already tugging at the edges of your clothing, raising it over your head.

ace’s hands groped your breasts, cock twitching at the sight and perspective of what could be done with them. his tongue lurked out, swiping a streak of saliva up your chest. you shuddered, to which ace smirked, twitching one of your hardening nipples. his digits grew brighter as a consequence of the shift in his temperature, offering a direct source of warmth to your flesh. he tested the length of his devil-fruit, internal fire reaching the tip of his tongue. ace latched his mouth around the bud, a pathetic rut of his hips following-in-suit as a consequence of your moaning.

he grew hotter, the gradual warmthness of your own skin teasing his nose. when your fingers tugged at his hair, ace’s tongue flicked; mouth applying pressure as he sucked on the flesh of your breast, well-aware of the consecutive loss of control on his powers. it felt as though entering a forest-fire to meet its god in the center, an ever-growing heat embracing your every nerve.

your nipple grew swollen at the attention — heated and pained —, whereas his saliva was a river of liquid flames, setting you alight. his unused hand traveled down your stomach, emerging goosebumps at its temperature. he pushed your back against the table, adoration poured into each featherlight touch. you heard the sound of his knees meeting the ground; felt his palm settling on your hip-bone. a pair of heated fingers traveled through your folds, spreading your essence through the extension of it. you whimpered, for your own pre-cum had its temperature shifted; fire reaching your very core.

ace sucked on your thigh, experienced thumb drawing fast-paced circles on your once neglected clit; bright digit behaving as though the teasing of a lighter. you squirmed, and he needed but a single hand to cage your figure. his lips left a trail of sensitive bruises, before they replaced his thumb, wrapping them around the swollen bud. the tip of his burning index teased your entrance, before he shoved three fingers inside — knuckle-deep — invading your walls with unthought suddenness. you mewled, unused — however excited — with the heat; dripping cunt close to boiling.

he moaned, sending vibrations through your body. his fingers curled inside you, teasing the gummy walls; igniting your g-spot. ace rutted against the air, erection caged in between the fabric of his clothes. regardless, he neglected his own needs for the sake of your own, observing, through his eyelashes, your face contorting in pleasure. ace gripped a fistful of your thighs, the warmth of it enough to burn lonesome inches of hair. when he made a sudden worried move, intending to retreat altogether, you gripped his hair yet again, shoving his face deeper into your cunt.

“d-don’t stop,” you pleaded, trembling legs threatening to close themselves around his head.

he moaned, setting a vigorous pace. his tongue ventured through your folds, nose buried deep; teasing your clit. ace moved his head to the sides, dragging your warm essence through his chin and mouth. his tongue drew a luscious, famished stripe before he sucked on the swollen, burning clit, nearly tearing up at the saltiness coating his palate.

“fuck, babe, you taste so good,” he groaned, voice coming out muffled, for the ministrations of his mouth remained. you moaned at the compliment, arching your back at the retreat of his fingers — nails at your entrance — before he shoved them inside yet again, a relentless pace that had your cunt squeezing the digits, dripping down his palm.

your entire figure trembled, thighs caging him, feet sliding down his muscular back. ace’s tongue was molten-fire against your clit, zigzagging around it, his face covered in specks of burning pre-cum — growing reddish at the prolonged contact. curling toes; ruthless tug at his hair. he drowned on your cunt, mouth claiming every drop of your essence while his fingers abused your g-spot.

your voice was a broken choir whose words were all but variations of his name. it flared up his ego, had him switching to shove a burning tongue inside your clenching cunt; fingers parting your folds open as a set of two circled around your clit. he all but slurped; humped the air. a wet patch stained his pants, and one could smell the stench of burning fabric as he pre-cum escaped past his tip, a tide of wild flames.

“ace, ‘m close,” you mewled, breathing out heavily, eyes tethered to the sight of his soaked face.

he retreated his lips for the briefest second to press a searing, burning kiss on your entrance, smirking at your drawn-out moan. the pace of his fingers on your clit increased, and ace bit on your outer labia, his other hand pinching on your trembling thigh.

“cum for me, love,” he encouraged, yet again shoving a warm tongue inside, his chin and nose buried in your cunt.

the knot unraveled itself, and your orgasm tore you from inside-out, drowning his face. ace chased it, famished mouth claiming every droplet of cum that fell on his awaiting tongue, his fingers working still as he stimulated the tides of your high. with a final stripe of the warm muscle, ace leaned his face backwards, licking his lips and tracing the cum that lingered on his chin. he shoved a thumb inside his mouth, sucking the rest of it; removing the finger with a pop. his flesh had a shade pale pink where your essence had touched.

ace spread your legs and got on his feet, eyes tethered to the sight of your bare body on the table, sweat-etched skin glistening under the natural light. “it was a delicious appetizer.”

you laughed then, opening your arms — a solace, whose walls he could rest within. ace’s glance softened ever-so-slightly at the sound, and his chest leaned forward, drawn by your sentence. “come and get the main course, hotstuff.”

his fingers fidgeted with buttons, zippers and straps, a loud groan following-in-suit when his erection slapped against his stomach. swollen, leaking tip sensitive enough to make him hiss due to the merest brush of the wind. ace buried his face on your neck, licking the sweat off your flesh as his hand blindly aligned his shaft with your entrance. the girth slid in with fair easiness, the reminiscing drops of your previous orgasm mingling; enveloping the neglected head.

when ace bottomed out, the pair of you moaned in unison. your nails dug on his back as his hips set a languid pace, flushed tip reaching deep into your g-spot. his cock was a conflagration, forcing your walls to match the absurd temperature, shared heat enhancing both of your senses; increasing the sensitivity. the legs of the table complained at every harsh, wild thrust, balls slapping your ass as he hammered himself inside — sudden retreat of the tip; aggressive shove of the base until he had you filled with his girth. you babbled a sequence of compliments that had him twitching; drooling inside.

your legs wrapped around his waist, and both his hands settled themselves on the back of your thighs. his mouth sang luscious moans as his tongue and teeth bruised the skin of your neck — visible marks; explicit claim of what was his. ace’s pace grew erratic at the approach of his orgasm, the warmth leaving him sensitive to the point of embarrassment. your walls sucked him in, a famished, selfish lover that wished for nothing but to milk him dry.

when he pressed his forehead against yours, the act itself held an intimacy he once could ever dream of having with another, and the act itself soothed the once miserable soul of a child unwanted. ace breathed out into your mouth, words failing him as you nodded, increasing the strength of your legs around him.

“cum inside,” you cried out, raking your nails down his tattooed back. “want it—want you, all of you.”

ace struggled to keep his eyes open as he shot his load into you. it was of an alarming heat, leaving a lingering burning sensation on his tip. you mewled, sobbing as fire incarnated smeared your sensitive walls, leaving but a trail of metaphorical ashes in its wake. ace pressed butterfly-kisses on your face, lips claiming dried tears and accumulated sweat. his thrusts assumed a slower pace, a final chase of his high until the both of you were left a frail, exhausted mingle of bodies. his hands left your thighs; your legs fell, limp, dangling from the table.

the merest glance at your lover’s face had your eyes widening, hands pushing his chest. “don’t you dare, ace! the table will break—”

he collapsed into you, shifting your bodies at the last second. wood gave in to his weight, and his back all but met the ground, arms encircling your figure as your side was pressed to his chest. ace caressed your ass, mumbling about how he needed to clean you properly — and snoring thereafter.

you snorted, caressing his cheek. “sleep well, hotstuff.”

— 🐈‍⬛ : happy late kinktober, time is a concept!

#kinktober 2024 #one piece #op x reader #op #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op x you #one piece smut #op x y/n #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #portgas ace smut #ace x reader #ace smut #ace x you #ace x y/n

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sanjisleggy · 27 days ago

Text

imagine being loved by me (sanji x reader) [pt2]

PART 1

a/n: here’s part 2 to ‘welcome to cupid island’ :D yippee! lowkey i wanna turn this into a larger series but i have no idea what i'd wanna add lmao but if people are interested in more of this reader x sanji dynamic i’d be happy to consider :3c imma add a poll at the end of this post to see what’s the reception like. anyway pls enjoy!

also pls send some zoro requests if u have any, ty :3c

contents: some suggestive themes but nothing explicit (16+ only ty!), jealous sanji, very insecure sanji, angst to fluff, hurt/reverse comfort

wc. 2.25k

wanna be on my taglist?

he imagines you would have an amazing life.

he imagines after you accept the proposal, you would be transformed into a beautiful queen, both regaled by your countless servants and beloved by your people. he can practically see right in front of him how King Aphr would worship the very ground you walked on, kiss the soles of your feet and the palms of your soft hands every night before ravishing you under the sheets until your eyes fill with tears of pleasure–things a mere pirate cook could never provide.

he imagines in a few years you would have two beautiful children: a girl and a boy, of course. they would be spitting images of you–or maybe one of them would have their father’s fluffy brown hair or gorgeous eyes. whatever the genetic combination, Sanji doesn’t doubt they would be absolutely beautiful solely because they came from you.

he imagines you living the life you deserve above everyone else on this godforsaken planet: happy, loved and safe from the dangers that come with life on the sea. you’d live a long life and be left wanting for nothing.

it’s a life Sanji cannot give you.

“oh. no, thanks.” your response to the kneeling crown prince is curt with your mouth hidden behind your hand to obscure the fact that you’re mid-chew. “i’m not interested.”

the matter-of-factness of your tone rips Sanji straight out of his self-deprecating nightmare as his head snaps in your direction. still holding his hand, you give it a soft squeeze as you maintain eye contact with your latest suitor. the entire restaurant is dead silent and even the wait staff are frozen in place, trays of freshly prepared gourmet food left to slowly cool before they can even be touched.

the Prince doesn’t hide his disappointment but he takes it better than any of the Straw Hats anticipated. if anything, they were all prepared for a fight but instead, the man simply apologises for disrupting your dinner and takes his leave. once he’s gone, you swallow your food before turning to meet Sanji’s eyes with your own. you can’t help but feel a pang in your chest when you see how teary he looks; you give his hand another squeeze before bringing the back of it to your lips and give him a soft kiss.

“we can talk about this later,” is the message your eyes convey to him and he nods in response.

although business gradually goes back to normal and the usual dining room chatter resumes, you and your group finish the rest of your meal with an odd sense of awkwardness encompassing the establishment. much to your–and Sanji’s–pleasure, however, it seems that your rejection of the Prince’s proposal is enough to ward off any other suitors, at least for the rest of dinner.

ii.

whilst some of your crewmates opt to sleep in early or explore the night market, you and your usual group of drinking buddies head to the hotel’s bar. out of habit, you find a table with four seats for Nami, Robin, Zoro and yourself, though you soon realise your mistake when you notice Sanji’s still holding onto your hand.

“what? not gonna chase skirts tonight, shitty cook?” Zoro speaks your mind. the blond chef’s grip on your hand tightens slightly.

“no, of course not, you stupid mosshead.” Sanji doesn’t elaborate any further but everyone knows the reason why: news of your rejection of the Prince hasn’t spread far enough yet, it seems, and already new faces are peering your way, presents in hand.

less than an hour passes and you’re not the only person who’s been approached by suitors: every one of your Straw Hat companions has been accosted at least three times. you try to keep count but eventually lose track when you reach double digits.

“it seems like they’re more desperate as the week comes to an end,” Robin observes, mumbling into her glass after turning down her fifteenth admirer.

“desperate’s putting it lightly,” Zoro replies, growing more visibly annoyed as the minutes pass and he can’t seem to enjoy one drink without a man or woman shyly sneaking up on him with more homemade cookies. “they’re even going after the shitty cook, they must be more than desperate,” he adds with a snort, clearly happy to take up any opportunity possible to rile up your boyfriend.

though you can tell Zoro’s ‘joke’ bugs him, Sanji remains quiet, opting to just shoot the swordsman a sharp glare from across the round table.

“here comes another one,” Nami groans, praying she’s not the target.

unfortunately for you, her wish comes true.

Zoro’s guard dog comparison from earlier in the day rings true yet again when the man taps your shoulder to get your attention. before you can even turn to look at what they look like, Sanji’s head snaps around first. although there’s an unmistakable look of pure rage in his eyes as he scowls at the man that makes the suitor almost instantly break out into a cold sweat, the cook’s grip on your hand remains the same gentleness as always.

“fuck off!” Sanji barks, subtlety be damned. your companions each react in a similar manner, choking on their respective drinks to some degree. you even catch Zoro murmuring to himself, “goddamn.” valuing his life, the stranger turns tail and disappears in a matter of seconds.

half a minute passes and the same bitter expression is stuck to your beloved’s face. your free hand reaches up to his head before you run your fingers through his soft hair. the gesture alone seems enough to snap him back to reality as his scowl melts away to be replaced by a small smile. Sanji closes his eyes and lets out a breath, tensed shoulders relaxing as you continue to caress his head. your hand slowly trails down his face before stopping to rest on his shoulder, your palm wrapped around the base of his neck, thumb rubbing along the edge of his sharp jawline.

your gentle ministrations send his heart into overdrive, the fragile organ threatening to beat so fast and so hard that it shatters his ribcage into nothingness. despite having known you for so long, he can’t ever seem to get used to your love.

“what a coincidence seeing you here, miss (Y/N),” a familiar voice speaks from behind you. from the looks on your crewmates’ faces, you can already tell you’re not the only one sick and tired of this island’s tradition. before anyone–even Sanji–can react to the blatant interruption, you stand up abruptly and turn around to face Prince Aphr. donning a smile, he’s dressed differently than when you first met him at dinner but his expensive clothes only serve to annoy you even further.

“i’ll only say this one more time, your highness,” you say through gritted teeth, days’ worth of built up irritation finally spilling over the edge and the unlucky target of your wrath just has to be the son of the ruler of the island–but you find it hard to care. “i’m not interested and i’ll never be interested. now, please leave me and my friends alone.”

Sanji stares up at you from his seat with his eyes wide and lips slightly parted. the last time you looked this angry was when an enemy pirate kicked Chopper like a soccer ball–and you’d gone on an absolute rampage back then. however, it seems that due to Prince Aphr’s lack of experience witnessing such devastation, he chooses to press on. as much as Sanji would love to diable jambe his royal ass, both him and the rest of the Straw Hats present at the table know you’re fully capable of handling this yourself.

“may i at least ask what it might take for you to even consider my proposal?” the prince asks. he’s either an extremely convincing actor or he’s genuinely so dense he doesn’t actually realise you’re in a relationship with the man right beside you.

“nothing.” your response seems to take him aback. “you could offer me the entire world on a silver platter and my answer would still be the same. my family is my crew and i’ve already met the love of my life.”

Sanji realises at that moment that a small part of him expected you to give an answer the prince could fulfill. when the finality of your words hits him, he can’t help the tears welling up in his eyes as his heart sinks to impossibly low depths.

you said it all with such ease, so little effort. have i ever done the same for you? what kind of man have i been?

iii.

Sanji twiddles his thumbs as he sits on the king sized bed, listening intently to the sound of the shower running. when it stops and he hears the slight creak of the shower door opening, he’s overcome with a great sense of anxiety, knowing that time will not stop just because he needs more time to gather his thoughts.

a few minutes later, you exit from the bathroom in a fluffy white robe, the smell of your shampoo washing over the entire hotel room. with a satisfied hum, you crawl across the bed to sit beside him.

“so,” you say gently as you grab one of his hands to play with his long fingers, “you wanna talk about anything?” the moment his eyes meet yours, all the words he painstakingly prepared to say slip right through his fingers.

you’re so beautiful.

Sanji opens his mouth but is unable to speak, he can only breathe and stare as you patiently wait for him to let everything out.

i don’t deserve you.

you tilt your head slightly and hum, as though trying to remind him that you’re still there. you look at him with such pure adoration, he wonders if you’re even looking at him.

but i want you and i want your love more than anything. so please–

“don’t leave me,” Sanji finally manages to choke out, hot tears now streaming down his face. days’ worth of anger and worry finally catches up to him and he can’t do anything but slump forward to bury his face in your midsection. his lanky arms curl around your waist in a desperate attempt to hold you there, just in case you decide you don’t want him anymore.

“hey, who said anything about leaving you, my sweet boy?” you say with a light chuckle but it does nothing to hide the heaviness in your voice. you wrap your arms around his head, hugging him closer to your stomach as he sobs into your bathrobe. running your fingers of one hand through his hair just the way he likes, you continue, “what makes you think that?”

“Prince Aphr can give you everything.” Sanji pulls his head away just enough to speak clearly but not far enough to break away from your warm embrace. “and i can’t. up until we arrived here–ever since we started dating–i couldn’t even stop flirting with women right in front of you and for what?!”

you shush him when he starts to raise his voice and you feel his fingers tighten their grip on the back of your bathrobe. “it’s okay–”

“no, it’s not,” he cuts you off. “how am i supposed to call myself yours if i can’t even treat you with the respect you deserve? i’m sorry, (Y/N), i’m so sorry i took for granted how open you are with the way i am around other women. just seeing the way so many people wanted to steal you away these past few days, and how you turned them all down, made me realise i’ve been a shitty boyfriend–”

deciding that you’ve heard enough, you lean back to separate his face from your body and use your hands to gently tilt his head up so that your eyes meet. Sanji stares almost pitifully up at you, his own hands still holding on for dear life onto your robe as his long legs splay out behind him across the large bed.

“you’re far from a shitty boyfriend, my love,” you sniffle, feeling tears of your own forming in your eyes, “you take such good care of me. you feed me anything i want, fuss over me when i’m sick, protect me in battle. you always let me shower first aboard the Sunny so i get all the hot water.” cupping his face in between your palms, you rub the pads of your thumbs across his cheeks, wiping away his tears. “you look at me like i hung the stars and the moon in the sky,” you say with a choked laugh, unable to help feeling a bit embarrassed admitting such a thing aloud, “sometimes i don’t even know how to live up to that.”

Sanji takes in a shaky breath as he nuzzles his face into your right hand so you lightly scratch his scalp with your left. the sensation pleases him so much he swears he nearly starts purring.

“how did i get so lucky?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“how did i get so lucky?” you reply with a laugh before leaning down to brush your lips against his forehead.

already Sanji feels the aching in his heart slowly fade away, leaving behind a soreness that’s sure to persist but he’s certain that it, too, will disappear over time as long as you’re by his side.

–

tags: @mlpandr63 @wifeofladyqu @strawberrysanzu @qui-sap @secretlife028 @the-avengers-not-the-nazis @peachycat17 @xiaothedgyemo @chaseyui @certain-tragedies @amei-draws-stuff @carmen-skullz @cobainlover @lara-christensen-me @shondlenoodle @teewon @makingmammonmoves @carmendanny2

#one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #imagine #fanfic #op #sanji x reader #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #opla x reader #one piece live action x reader

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honeydjarin · 1 year ago

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BRING ME THE SUN

OPLA SANJI X READER

You often find yourself in the galley, seeking the company of your favorite chef. Even when your half asleep, Sanji can’t bring himself to turn you away.

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: 1,500

a/n: how often can I write about sleeping? It’s what I long for most of all. I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with opla!sanji, but now I can't stop thinking about him!

PART II: (I’LL GIVE YOU THE MOON)

Your feet carry you over salt-soaked wood, up creaking stairs bordered by sun-warmed railings, before settling in front of the closed door to the galley. You hesitate for only a moment. The evening sun glares off the porthole window and prevents you from peeking into the room beyond, but you know the man you seek is in there. Sanji is almost always in the kitchen now that he has the freedom to experiment with new recipes as he pleases.

When you first enter the galley, it’s with the intention of keeping the Going Merry’s chef company. Sanji’s easy going nature is addicting. Friendly and flirtatious conversations with him always leave you glowing golden—brighter than the sun. His comfort as he works in the kitchen, his joy for what he does, is contagious. Oftentimes, you find yourself at the door to the galley, having had no plan to walk there. You seek out his company whenever you’re given the chance, consciously or not.

You hadn’t meant to develop such a large crush on the chef. He wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a crewmate. A friend. You had been wary of the flirt when he joined the Straw Hats. His first impression left you with his self confidence and charm but no glimpse of his care for friends and strangers alike. You never could have expected how easily the newest member would wiggle his way into your heart.

You take a breath, then step into the room hidden behind the door.

Sanji is exactly where you expect him to be, flitting around the kitchen as he begins preparations for dinner. When he hears the door open, he turns your way, a smile pulling at his lips as soon as he sees it’s you.

“Hello, darling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but he slows, keeping his gaze on you. “Are you hungry?”

“Not yet. I just wanted to keep you company,” you say, making your way farther into the kitchen. A part of you can’t help but think Sanji must get lonely in the galley after having spent so much time surrounded by others at the Baratie, but he never complains.

The other part of you worries that Sanji actually prefers the time alone, and that your presence in the kitchen is unwelcomed. The Going Merry isn’t a particularly large ship, and finding a moment to be alone can be difficult.

“Then today I am a lucky man,” he replies. His smile never falters, eyes gleaming as though he truly does feel lucky to spend time with you. It’s enough to dispel any lingering worries, at least for the time being.

You warm beneath the weight of his gaze, heartbeat fluttering from the sudden attention. For a moment you forget yourself, too lost in the twin seas trapped in Sanji’s eyes. Your own lips pull into a matching smile and you feel like you’re glowing, just like you always do when he gives you his attention. Sanji’s gaze seems to soften, as if, somehow, he can see the light burning in your chest.

If you don’t move now, you’ll sink too deeply into this feeling, you’ll get too wrapped up in your not so little crush.

You take a step forward, then another. Your feet carry you to one of the seats at the counter, keeping the island between you. Sanji’s gaze still washes over you, but at least this way, no matter how tempting it may be, you won’t find yourself reaching out to him. You won’t tangle your fingers between his own, won’t run your spare hand through his hair or cradle the soft curve of his cheek, won’t lean in to kiss his still grinning lips.

The evening sun filters through the galley windows, gleaming off cookware and pooling on the countertops. Your seat is strategically situated in the center of one of those pools, the hazy light casting a warm beam across your skin. You sink into its embrace, growing more relaxed with each slow breath you take. The warmth is like a hug, and you can’t help but to settle into it.

You fold your arms on the countertop and rest your chin on them, easing into a comfortable position. You could fall asleep like this.

Oftentimes, you offer to help Sanji cook, not wanting to be in the galley without at least being useful, but today you seem to be slipping—too relaxed, too tired, content just to watch the chef in his element. You’re only half aware of what he is doing as he works.

“Here,” Sanji says, setting a glass down in front of you. “Try this.”

Small bubbles rise from the liquid inside, popping as they reach the surface. When you take a sip, it’s cool and saccharine, flavors mixing to create the perfect balance.

“Oh! It’s good,” you praise before taking another sip. You have to set the glass down, wanting to savor the drink Sanji made just for you. “Everything you make is good.”

“You’re too sweet to me, darling.”

His words make you smile, but you keep your attention on the glass in front of you, too afraid that if you look at him he will see in your eyes just how deep your affections lie.

Beads of condensation have already formed on the outside of the glass, making the fizzy liquid inside look almost cloudy. You trail your finger through the moisture on the smooth surface, the cool liquid dripping down your fingertip leaving a clear path behind your touch, a curve into a point. Reflect and repeat. When you pull your hand away, a little heart remains.

The blonde chef leaves you feeling like a lovesick fool—as sticky sweet as the drink he made you.

This moment is too easy, too safe. You hardly notice the way your eyelids weigh heavy, each blink lasting longer than the one before it. The sounds of chopping vegetables and boiling water begin to fade, barely noticeable as sleep creeps ever closer.

“As flattered as I am that you want to keep me company even when you’re so tired, I must insist that you find a more comfortable place to nap. I’ve heard that pain is beauty, but beauty sleep should never cause someone as sweet as you to wake up in pain.”

If you weren’t already so close to sleep, Sanji’s words might have sent your heart racing. He thinks you’re sweet too.

“I’ll be fine, Sanji. It’s just a little cat nap,” you offer, only half aware of what you’re saying.

You don’t hear if he responds.

—♡—

It’s a chill seeping into your skin that starts to wake you up. The ocean air isn’t really that cold, but the absence of the sun on your skin creates a change in temperature stark enough to make you sigh in disappointment. What once felt like a soft embrace now feels like a missing piece.

There’s the sound of something being whisked, or stirred, the only evidence you have that you aren’t alone in the galley.

You stretch your arms out to your sides, groaning slightly at the stiffness in your shoulders. Sanji was right, your body does hurt. You keep your eyes closed as you stretch, desperately clinging to those last moments of sleep as you work out the aches in your muscles.

“Hmm. It’s cold now,” you mumble. The stirring sound stops.

The creeping sense of cold doesn’t have long to settle over you. Before you can continue to complain about the movement of the sun, something heavy and warm is draped over your shoulders. The heat of your skin sinks into the fabric before it is reflected back at you, just like the sun. It feels like a blanket. At the very least, it offers the comfort of one.

You pull the fabric closer around you, feel the curl of a collar around your neck and the holes for sleeves catch on your shoulders—definitely not a blanket. The fabric of Sanji’s jacket is smooth and well made, the quality much better than most of the crew’s clothing.

What is this made of? You want to ask. Boyfriend material?

But where flirtation spills naturally from Sanji’s lips, it only ever sounds awkward and stilted from yours. You leave the words unsaid, choosing instead to offer a simple “thank you.”

“You seemed quite content. It would be a shame for you to grow cold simply because the sun doesn’t understand how much you appreciate it.”

Finally, you open your eyes.

Sanji leans on the counter beside you, offering you a soft smile. It’s subdued, as if he himself isn’t even aware he’s doing it. He looks good like this—he always looks good. He looks at ease right now, like he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but for just a little while, you can almost let yourself believe that he feels the same way about you. Why else would he look at you like that, with such fondness?

“So you decided to keep me warm instead?” you prod.

“Of course,” he responds without hesitation. “I can’t bring you the sun, but I can offer you this.”

Of course. He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. As if he couldn’t ever bring himself to consider an alternative.

You feel warm again, glowing.

a/n: I’m planning on writing a second part to this. Hopefully it won’t take too long ^_^

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla sanji x you #opla x you #opla one piece #one piece #one piece live action

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grandline-fics · 6 months ago

Text

Dream A Little Dream

DESCRIPTION: They hear you say their name in your sleep

WARNINGS: just fluff

CHARACTERS: Killer, Smoker, | Law, Sabo

WORDS: 1,790

A/N: I've been hating how some of the requests I've been working on were turning out so I've paused them to go back to this idea with some other characters. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

KILLER

“No I don’t.”

“Yes, you do!”

“No. I don’t.” Killer looked up from the stove at the sound of your argument with Wire came closer to the kitchen. Nothing disputes were always common around the ship so usually he didn’t pay them much mind but Killer always found himself taking a little more notice to things when they involved you.

“How do you even know? You’re asleep.” Wire argued as you both entered the kitchen, not noticing the vice-captain right away. Killer watched as you leaned against the counter and rolled your eyes at your crewmate. “What’s the big deal anyway? So what if you talk in your sleep?”

“It’s not the claim I talk in my sleep, it’s just that I don’t believe you, Wire.” You explained, turning to stare at your crewmate suspiciously. “I mean it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to prank me. Unless you can get proof that I talk in my sleep or someone else- that isn’t just Heat- confirms it, then I’ll believe you.” You shrugged simply and finally turned to acknowledge your vice-captain with a smile now that the matter was dropped. “What’s for dinner?”

Late that night, Killer rose from the heavy haze of sleep that he had to force himself to resist falling back into. With a long, low groan, he stretched out his body and rubbed his tired eyes before settling his mask firmly into place. Rolling his shoulders and pulling his clothes on he dragged his heavy limbs out of his bed and absently walked through the ship until he was climbing the Crow’s Nest to relieve Gig. Wishing the other crew member a goodnight, Killer settled back and readied himself for what he could already tell would be a calm and uneventful watch shift. However he was surprised after a couple hours to see the hatch open and you appeared.

“You’re not on the roster for tonight…” He noted, watching you close the hatch and adjust the blanket and pillow under your other arm.

“Nope, tomorrow night.” You confirmed. “I always come up here when I have trouble sleeping. Is it okay if I join you?”

“Of course it is, make yourself comfortable.” Killer gestured you to pick somewhere to sit. You smiled happily and Killer returned it despite his smile being hidden beneath his mask. As you moved to settle in the seats near him, he tried to remain as relaxed as he could. Even with a single seat separating you both, he could still feel the natural warmth you always exuded, both a comfort and distraction for him.

Killer watched as you placed the pillow on the windowsill and tucked your arms underneath it, deciding to forgo actually lying down so you could face him properly and idly chat with him through his watch. Eventually though Killer noticed your eyes were drooping and your voice would thicken, your statements broken by yawns in a signal that you’d finally fall to sleep. It wasn’t long before your breathing evened out and the peaceful silence fell. Killer turned his head away from you, deciding to actually finish his task and keep watch. He only had another couple hours and he’d be finished. Every so often through that time he’d hear you shift slightly and let out soft mumbles but for the most part you slept completely silent. Then your voice drifted up. “Hm…Kil…”

“Yeah? What’s-” Killer turned his head only to pause to see you were still fast asleep. Immediately he shut his mouth and continued to watch you sleep. While you’d said the beginning of his name, he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions that you were actually dreaming about him. After all a lot of words started with ‘kil’ and you could have been saying anything.

“Killer…ask me out already…” Killer all but choked on his tongue, not expecting that but he definitely wasn’t complaining. Clearing his throat he composed himself just in time for the hatch to fly open and crash loudly against the floor causing you to jump awake and look around in startled confusion. Your eyes landed on Wire who arrived for his watch and with a huff you controlled your racing heart.

“Oh oops, you were sleeping?” Wire asked before his eyes lit up. “You were sleeping! Killer, did they talk?” Immediately your heart began to race again and you looked to Killer who remained outwardly calm.

“Nope, not a word.” He stated while getting up and stretched his stiff muscles, glad to go back to his own bed. Just before he could close his door, you appeared, hand bracing against the wood and stopping him. “What’s up?”

“You lied to Wire.” You stated and Killer’s eyebrows rose slightly. “I always win at poker because I know your tell when you lie. I did talk in my sleep, why didn’t you tell him what I said?”

“Well I think what was said would be best kept between us.” Killer smirked, emboldened by how adorably confused you looked. Then in the depths of your mind you must have recalled what you were dreaming about because your eyes widened and a small gasp broke free.

“Night Kil, see you in the morning.” You quickly uttered, stepping back and hurrying to your room, your steps faltering when he called after you. “It’s a date.”

SMOKER

You stared at the mountain of paperwork already waiting on your desk as you entered your office that morning. You’d stayed up so late clearing your desk only to see even more waiting for you. Slowly you looked at the mug of coffee in your hand and back to the paperwork and sighed heavily. It was going to be a long day and most likely night, you could already tell. Bracing yourself you sat down at your desk and lifted the first file waiting for you and your eye twitched immediately. Yeah, it was going to be a very, very long day. By midmorning your patience all but snapped and you made a list of the people responsible for your swiftly soured mood and left to go to the transmission room. Lifting the receiver you couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction stir within you as you began your announcement.

“Attention G-5. Due to personnel ignoring protocol and handing in multiple reports from previous missions at once, a backlog has occurred. Until these reports have been fully processed the following Marines are prohibited from active duty off base. No exceptions.” You paused to let the beginning announcement set in, already you could hear a chorus of voices coming from outside the room. Then you began to clearly and concisely read out the long list of names of the offenders.

From the training yard, Smoker and the others stopped to listen to the names being echoed through the speakers. As he ground his teeth against the cigars in his mouth he couldn’t help the mounting frustration as he recognised a lot of the names on his list were part of the unit he was meant to be going out on a mission with in just a couple days time. As Commander of the base he was sorely tempted to go against the transmission but at the same time he supposed these Marines needed to be taught a lesson in not just handing in bulk reports last minute. He also recognised the voice as yours and he didn’t want to annoy you given he was attracted to you too. Perhaps he could convince you to process certain Marines first. “The personnel on this list will be notified when they are cleared for duty again. Thank you.”

Smoker sighed heavily and within seconds he heard the multitude of voices surging up, all of them calling for him. Before he’d even gotten out of the training yard he was already swarmed by those who’d now been placed off-duty and asking him to pull strings or pull rank and still let them go on their missions. With a headache growing, Smoker glared at them all into shutting up and backing off before he made his way to your office. He knocked once and entered.

“How long will they take to process? There’s a mission-”

“That’s occurring in two days time, I’m aware.” You noted with a small nod, not even bothering to look up at him. You weren’t even surprised that he’d come here. It was inevitable he’d appear sooner rather than later. “I can only go as fast as I can and like I said, multiple reports are handed in at once. It’s a lot to go through.”

“Can the other administrators assist you-”

“Not without them neglecting their reports to process and this incident ends up getting larger.” You shook your head before settling your hands on the desk and looking up at him, Smoker immediately saw the tiredness in your eyes. He began to wonder how long this kept happening and today was the first time you decided to finally take action to prove a point.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, eyeing the stacks of reports warily. He had to admit paperwork wasn’t his strength. You smiled softly, appreciating his offer but you shook your head.

“Thank you but I’m fine.”

Late that night Smoker was making his way through the corridors in his usual patrol before going to bed when he spotted the light coming through your open door. He knew you had a habit of staying up late but this was bad even for you. Were you forcing yourself to stay up even later to see process everyone as soon as possible? Smoker approached the door and saw you sleeping on the sofa against the wall in the room. You must have only intended to only take a small nap before going back to work again but your body had other ideas. Stepping inside he kept his steps as quiet as he could but it seemed he wasn’t quiet enough because you started to stir. “Smoker…”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” Smoker told you but stopped beside you and saw you were still completely unconscious. You were dreaming and saying his name? Smoker couldn’t help but smirk when his name slipped from your lips again and you let out a small sigh.

“Be safe, Smoker…” You mumbled, your face scrunching in adorable annoyance. “Hand your report in on time.”

“Sure, you got it.” Smoker chuckled before reaching down to grab the blanket off the back of the sofa a drape it over you before leaving you to rest while also making sure to see to it that from now on everyone handed in their reports on time.

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

TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece scenario #one piece fic #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #killer x you #killer x reader #smoker x you #smoker x reader #massacre soldier killer #killer one piece #killer op #white hunter smoker #smoker one piece #smoker op

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nekomacheercaptain · 3 months ago

Text

Day 5: Forced proximity

This is my first time writing for Zoro…

Zoro thought it would be fun to go on a hike in the snowy mountains, saying something about "needing firewood". You, for some reason, didn't question him when he took the lead?? Oh no... what are two people supposed to do to keep warm when they are lost in the cold?

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem! reader

Rating: explicit mature content (18+), NSFW

Word count: 2,1K

Content: female reader, forced proximity, oral sex (fem! receiving), very tiny bit of nipple play, slight body worship

"Remind me why I let you lead?"

Zoro shrugged his shoulders, "'Cause I know where we're going."

You looked down at the snow only to see another set of identical footprints, "...Really?"

"Yeah," the swordsman kept walking, not detecting the question in your voice.

This had been an entirely avoidable situation, and to make it worse, it was getting dark and there didn’t appear to be a shelter anywhere, only the two of you surrounded by snow and a mountain, “…and where are we going?”

Zoro grumbled in response, “To the ship.”

“I know the Sunny has a tendency to stray, but I can’t really see any water nearby,” you grumbled back, the cold freezing your normally cheerier attitude.

Zoro merely looked over his shoulder, giving you a small side-eye as he walked, his hand relaxing on the handle of his sword. You decided silence was for the better until you would at least got some heat back into your body, feeling the cold starting to bite at your face.

Collecting branches as you went a while longer, you noticed a crack in the mountain wall, pushing a reluctant (only for show) Zoro towards it saying you finally found some sanctuary, the Sunny and proper sleep be damned. Zoro was glad for some respite too, but remained silent. The crack proved to be more of a cave, not too deep so you knew there weren’t any animals occupying the shadows, and just deep enough that snow didn’t reach all the way in, providing a dry ground to lie on. Zoro wasted no time in proving that, heavy body on the ground with his hands resting under his head.

“No complaints from you, then,” you chuckled before kneeling beside him, making quick work of the branches and magically getting a small fire going. Trying with all your might to ignore the smell of smoke filling the small cave, you looked to Zoro, seeing him already somehow comfortable, while the cold was still deep in your body. The tiny little campfire wasn’t enough to warm you up like you needed to, so it couldn’t be too wrong to ask your dear crewmate if he could share some of his body heat with you? Although, it was a request you had never made before.

“Zoro?”

A small hum came from him, his eye closed.

“I’m cold.”

Without even missing a beat, Zoro offered an arm and opening his coat, waiting for you to lay down at his side. He was used to being somewhat of a heater for the crew; and though he didn’t show it, he was delighted it was finally your turn. Yet, when all you did was lay flat on your back with just his arm as a pillow, the swordsman couldn’t help but look at you, his deep voice catching you off guard, “Not getting any warmer like that, are you?”

“….Not really, no,” at your response Zoro wrapped his arm around you to push you closer, your frame now glued to his side, his hand resting on your arm. And you sighed at how lovely it felt being so close to him, one of your hands laying on his abdomen - the placement making you feel almost needy. Small shivers born from excitement shot down your spine when you could feel the firm muscles hidden beneath his shirt, and your body started heating up, an ache forming in your core. And nothing had even happened.

You tried to close your eyes to force some sleep upon your exhausted body, but as you very well knew, once the ache start, it’d damn near impossible to get rid of. And having Zoro so near and so close… and so warm and damn muscular… your imagination ran wild with all the places one possibly could let your hands roam on a body, and what places the swordsman would enjoy feeling you. Better yet, what places he could touch you, and not limiting his resources to his hands - he had a more than capable mouth on him, accompanied by a tongue. Oh, he would get creative, wouldn’t he? His jaw had to be strong, if he could carry a heavy sword with it, what else could he slobber up with-

“Gonna stare all night?”

Apparently you had been too immersed in your thoughts to notice how you had been down right ogling him, and he gave you a small smirk, “Don’t stop on my account, seems like you were enjoying yourself.”

“Well, uh… there isn’t much else to do in a cave,” you laugh lowly, “have to find some form of entertainment, y’know?”

He quirked a brow at that, smirk growing, “Oh?”

And shit. The same damn smile and tone whenever you agree to spar with him; however, his eyes held an unfamiliar passion… no, hunger you hadn’t observed on him before. Before you could question him, Zoro had you trapped beneath him, his knees resting just beneath your rear, your legs slung over his hips.

“Getting restless with me, pretty girl?” Zoro teased down at your bewildered expression, “Didn’t know you found me so boring.”

His eye was half-lidded, full of desire, and having Zoro look down at you like that made the dull ache between your legs transform into a pulse, suddenly unbearable. And from the unexpected situation you found yourself in, your voice was small as you took in the sight of him, “Could never find you boring…”

Zoro hummed at that and leaned down, teasing you with how his lips were oh so close to yours, “Want something, sweetheart?”

He was relishing how easy it was to fluster you, glad you weren’t stopping his advances. And yet, he liked how fun it was to tease you. To see how your eyes flickered to his eyes for mercy, to his lips for passion, and down in impatience, your hands gripping his coat like it would vanish at your touch, “Zoro…”

“Hm?” he let out a small sound, humor clear in his gaze, “That’s not much of an answer.”

One of his hands cupped your cheek and you leaned your weight into his calloused palm, sighing loudly at his touch, excitement bubbling inside you at the otherwise wholesome contact, “I want you, Zoro… isn’t that obvious? Haven’t it been obvious for so long?”

If your confession surprised him, he didn’t let it show, instead he tilted your head, your breaths mixing and hot on your cheeks. Your eyes locked with his, his thumb softly caressing your bottom lip while he pressed his body tightly against yours, like it could never be close enough. And for someone who was wearing three layers more than he wanted, Zoro would probably want nothing more than to get rid of every- and anything separating you. And with a weak tug at his coat, Zoro chuckled before enveloping his lips with yours.

As his lips moved softly against your own, his musky scent filled your senses, making your mind foggy with desire for him. One that had been harboring and suppressed for so long finally escaped, making you unable to hold back the moans just from kissing him, your back arching off the ground to meet him better, moaning when his tongue swiped over your lips, eager to taste more of you.

“So needy, huh?” Zoro teased with a grunt into your lips, his hips grinding softly into yours, adoring the noises you were making for him. His hands fumbled with your coat and when you noticed, you joined in on it too, wanting to feel his touch on your bare skin, wanting him so impossibly near he could melt into you.

When enough skin was exposed, Zoro broke the kiss, both of you panting before he trailed kisses down your jaw, before continuing down your neck, helping you get your arms out of the coat. His warm tongue and eager lips sucked and licked on your skin while grunting, groaning as he humped softly against you, his bulge pressing deliciously against your still clothed cunt.

“Fuck, Zoro,” you gasped, hands brushing his short hair.

“Yeah, sweetheart? That feel good?” Zoro murmured into your neck, his hands pulling off your shirt, before his lips were attached to the slope of your breasts, pressing hungry kisses against your skin while taking struggling with the clasp of your bra.

You breathed out a small laugh, arching your back to help him, sighing when he finally got it off before you moaned loudly as his lips and hands worshipped your breasts, changing between suckling and palming them. You rarely saw Zoro so eager and curious, but each new reveal of skin, Zoro seemed to fall into an abyss of pleasure - gaining satisfaction just from touching you. He was also playful, his teeth lightly tugging at your nipple just to see and hear your reaction, growling lightly as your sounds met his ears.

When his hands reached your pants, Zoro leaned a little back on his heels, looking at you intently as he started unfastening them, looking at every single inch of newly revealed skin - planting a small kiss on the inside of your thigh while pulling your pants off completely.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your leg as he trailed his kisses, “been driving me mad…”

Zoro folded you in half, ignoring the throbbing in his knees from pressing into the ground, an almost wicked grin on his face as he eyed your underwear slick with arousal, “Such a dirty girl.”

Zoro licked at the wet spot, inhaling the smell of you, just as he had wanted to for so long. You moaned loudly, bucking your hip in instinct, hands finding his hair once more to tug at what you could. Zoro continued to work his tongue and lips against the cloth, stimulating your needy cunt enough to feel the pressure build inside you. Zoro hummed and chuckled against you, his chin glistening when he departed, “Fuck, you taste so good, sweetheart, and absolutely drenched for me.”

Zoro was drunk on lust, the taste of you better than any sake or drink in the world, any drop he could lick from you like pure nectar he was already getting addicted to. His fingers hooked themselves on the band of your panties, pulling them off while slobbering kisses on your thighs just close enough where you actually wanted him, making you whine his name and tug at his green strands. And not before your panties were thrown to the ground with an almost embarrassing slap due to being so drenched, Zoro didn’t give you a chance to breathe as he devoured you whole - his tongue flicking over your clit while his fingers played with your folds and teasing your entrance.

Writhing against your coat, you were whining and moaning at the sensations, adoring how his lips and tongue could barely decide how to worship you, switching between laying his tongue flat while licking through your folds, or using the tip of his tongue to tease, playing with patterns, before suckling and kissing on your folds, his thumb circling your sensitive nub. With Zoro experimenting with your pleasure, you wondered who was actually annoying themselves more; you or Zoro, him letting out just as many sounds of enjoyment as you were. Yet, when you felt yourself getting close to the edge, you were desperate for more, for everything that Zoro could give you.

“Please, Zoro,” you whined loudly, sweat starting to cover your body, “I-I’m getting close!”

Zoro gave no response, but plunged a finger into you without remorse, humming and grunting when you moaned as your walls contracted around him, continuing to kiss and suckle on your cunt, his tongue relentless on your clit, leaving your legs shaking as you neared your peak.

With each passing second you grew more sensitive, writhing and thrashing beneath his strong grasp as he forced the pleasure on you, adding another finger that reached and stretched so far you could only cry at the pleasure, feeling a string threaten to snap in your core at all the things Zoro was making you feel. His name was just pathetic blabbering rolling off your tongue as you were dazed in pleasure, yet his name had never sounded better.

Zoro continued the near-assault on your sensitive cunt until he felt your body shake and your walls pulse uncontrollably around him, your moans and scream silent as your orgasm washed over you, Zoro slowing down his movements to help you through the intense pleasure, groaning at the deathgrip you had on his hair. When you fell limp, Zoro’s mouth and fingers left you with a wet sound, before he dressed you well enough to lay you on his chest, his coat wrapped around you.

Getting lost wasn’t all that bad after all… getting back to the ship could wait until morning.

Note: As I said, this is my first time writing for Zoro, I'm sorry if he's very ooc.... Also I'm doing VERY shit kinktober this year and I'm so sad about it FUCK... Anyways, thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it! If you want to join my taglist, you can find it here! Dividers by @/benkeibear

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro #one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #dear moots #my work #sinful #kinktober 2024 #cheer’s kinktober 2024

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fanaticsnail · 9 months ago

Text

Kind And Gentle

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,100+

Synopsis: 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.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, Friends to lovers, confessions of love, suggestive dialogue, massaging - reader receiving, pain, aching, yearning, small kiss, Shanks is a meanie, swearing, teasing, Beckman is a softie, Beckman is a gentleman, term of endearment "Darlin'" used - it's just what I associate him saying.

Notes: Pure self-indulgence fic, procrastinating while I should be going through my WIPs. My shoulder hurts, guys. Needed this to get out of my system and get through the pain. Art link.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @carrotsunshine @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @mfreedomstuff @missbeckman @tiredemomama

Pain. White and hot, swelling and encumbering. This was what you were experiencing in the middle of your spine; just a little to the right side of your body.

The ache never eased, no matter what position you slept in, nor adjusting your posture throughout the day. It was unending, the torment which knit your muscles together and cemented them in place.

You clenched your eyes tightly shut, bracing yourself against the wooden hallway wall as you rotate your neck in a circle atop your shoulders slowly. Arching your back, you winced as the knot continued to integrate itself in a woven entanglement of painful muscle beneath your skin.

Biting back a whimper, you tried as you might to reach the cursed divot beneath your flesh, whining quietly as your fingertips barely brushed against the surface of the painful coil. The ache called to you, the burden causing a small tremor in your lips from the electric heat of the hidden wound.

Shaking your head, you huffed out a breath as you attempted to soldier on about your daily chores. Ignoring the tight ache beneath your skin with a deep grimace written on your lips, you finally gave into your pain and balanced your hands against the wooden beam atop the deck of the Red-Force.

The sea breeze hit your nose, relaxing you briefly before the pain eclipsed all your senses. Brain foggy with anguish, lips parted and panting, eyes frantic and wife: you could bear it no longer. You muted a cry, muffling it within your mouth while you tried to release the elastic coil in your back by twisting your torso.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you curse in a soft whisper, your brows rising in a pain-riddled peak in your forehead. You moaned out in a soft whimper, praying nobody could hear your weakness as you tried to reach for the spot a second time.

The band was bordering on excruciating, your mind contemplating whether or not to seek out Hongo for medical attention due to the intensity of the pain. Just as you began to turn on your way, two strong hands clapped over your shoulders: thumbs moving in rough circles against your skin.

“I got you, Darlin’,” the gruff voice Shanks’ first mate whispered in a calming rumble, “Just tell me when I'm gettin’ close to it.”

Benn Beckman. It was always Benn Beckman. Any time any of the crew needed anything, no task too small, no feat too great: Beckman was the champion you had all grown accustomed to rely on. Leaning back into his touch, you hung your neck low to grant him greater access

“Oh-... mmmf-... -‘kay,'' you whimpered, curving your back down to expose more of your spine to him, “It's not-... Hhah-... It's not normally this-...fucking, shit-... -this bad.” A small click of his tongue snapped at you in empathy as his thumbs brushed against the coil of pain.

Although your friendship with Beckman ran deep, you had never engaged with him physically before. You respected one another, adored one another, and were as close as two crewmates could be. Two sides of a coin, twin edges of a blade, the gunpowder and the spark that lit the fuse - this was how you were described by your red-headed captain.

But as his thumbs sought out your deepest pain, all your thoughts escaped you. There was nothing else, just: Beckman, his focus and his expert touch.

“Just a touch to the right-... ahh, Becks!” you cried out as his digits flicked over the painful swell beneath your flesh. Huffing out pants of breath, you sobbed in strained relief as he continued massaging your body.

“Oh, fuck. It's there, isn't it?” he whispered, the thumb of his right hand pressed firmly against the tight knot as his left hand braced you against the side-beam of the boat, “There it is, Darlin’. I found it. There's the spot.” You arched your back within his broad hands, your arms stiffening in firm pillars against the deck as he prodded the painful peak in your back.

“Oh, that's it! Right there, that's the spot,” you mewled out, crying and gasping for him as he untangled your muscles with his rough, practiced hands. Just as he pressed his strength further against you, you winced out a strangled, “Fuck, not so rough! Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!”

“Darlin’, this is me being kind and gentle,” he bullied his thumb into your skin, stapling you to the wall of the ship by his hips and holding you steady with his hand perched on your left shoulder, “You need a bit of rough treatment. Hold still, let me coax it out of you.”

“Becks,” you whispered out his name, lulling your head back on your shoulders as he continued to pry, paw and claw the knot apart with his right hand, “Becks it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” his gruff voice reassured you, the gentle hold of his left hand against your shoulder contradicted the right hand that bruised your muscles, “It'll all be over soon. I'm nearly there, I can feel your body moving it with me. Just hold on.”

His thumb pressed an intentional swipe up, directing the pain up your back and into the peaked corner of your shoulder. His brows knit low in deep concentration, prompting him to suck in an empathetic breath in anticipation.

“Ohh… You're gonna hate me,” he whispered in your ear, kicking your feet apart with his heavy boots before anchoring his pelvis against your glutes to hold you firmer against the ship's wooden railing, “You need an elbow.”

“No, no, no! Not an elbow!” you cried, just as his right elbow drew itself against your spongy flesh, “Becks! It's-... nnmfph-... too much! Ahh! Too much!”

Attempting to break from his grip, you shook yourself away from his hands, only for your body to immediately betray you. Bent over the railing, your back immediately became unraveled by a firm grip and a strong elbow to the point that ailed you.

“Oh hush, you need it,” he barked in a soft tone, eclipsing your concern with an intentional rotation of his elbow against your shoulder, “Be a good little thing and take it.” He was moving the vines of the entanglement away from the source point, breaking it down beneath his body and flushing it out with heavy swipes.

Benn Beckman was experiencing the toughest battle he had ever had the displeasure in engaging with. He was trying to tune out how good you sounded calling out his name in pants and whines, his own empathetic huffs and groans mixing harmoniously with yours as he gripped your flesh.

“Benn Beck-...fuck-... It's right there. Right there, Becks! Don't stop!” you whimpered, your voice high and your desperation showcased in the soft pants of your breath. The release of your entangled flesh was just within Beckman's grasp, prompting him to switch back to using his fingers to expel the pressure beneath your skin.

“I got you. There ya’ go,” he confirmed again, expanding the heel of his palm against the binding presence of the last of the entanglement, “Breathe through it with me, I'm not gonna stop ‘til you're done.”

“Oh, fuck Beckman,” your eyes glazed over, your lips parting and crying out in bliss as his skillful ministrations cast out the pressure in your shoulder as a priest would cleanse unholy ground to make their sanctuary.

“Th-That’s it. Oh m-my fuck-,” you whined back into his hands, “You're so good. Your hands feel so good.” As the last of the knot fled your shoulder, a warm chuckle rumbled from behind you. Beckman's laugh brought you comfort, his softness depicted in this small moment as he held you in his arms.

His firm hands turned soft, caressing your shoulders in tender, gentle touches. He molded both of your shoulders within his palms, your body becoming jelly beneath his rough and calloused hands. You moaned softly as he maneuvered your body in a perfect arch against his chest, the rumble of his chuckle reverberating within your back to vibrate within your chest.

“Better?” he whispered in the shell of your ear, easing his body back to enable you to escape his broad cage. Instead of breaking away from his body, you relaxed into his arms, sighing out a warm breath of contentment.

“Thank you, Becks. You're bloody amazing at that,” you praised him, feeling light and free of the bonds that confined you, “Why did you offer to help me with it?”

“There was something in your face that told me you needed it,” he shrugged, huffing a small chuckle out of his nose and leant down to rumble out a whisper in your ear, “Always wanna help you, Darlin’.”

“Oh Becks, I could kiss you,” you turned in his arms, gazing through half-hooded eyelids up at him, “Can I?”

He smirked down at you, a small pink due flushing his cheeks with a subtle dust, bobbing his head in a soft nod to grant you permission. As you circled your arms over his neck and began to draw him closer to your lips, a chorus of barked laughter and an uproar of cheers echoed along the hull of the ship. Clapping hands, whistles and hoots erupted from your crew now surrounding the two of you.

“Oh, Beckman,” your captain cackled at you, his right hand clapping over his heart, “In public, big guy? And you,” he pointed his index finger at you, his wolfy grin painted in a drawn-out taunting smirk, “You sly little fox. Gettin’ the big man to take you right on the deck?”

“What?” you questioned your captain in a warning tone, floating your eyes between the rest of the crew gathered on the deck beside him. Shanks’ playful twinkle fluttered beneath his weighty eyelashes.

“Be gentle with me, Becks,” he mocked in a needy moan not too dissimilar from your own, before hardening his features and deepening his voice in a grunted, “You need a bit of rough treatment,” he commented gruffly. The color drained from your face, eyes widening and lips parting once again in bashful horrification.

“Oh right there, Becks, don't stop,” Shanks continued his performance, a small warning began to rise within Beckman's throat in a rumbled growl. Breaking out of your embrace, he grimaced at the red-head in front of him.

“Enough, Cap’n,” Beckman snarled, reaching within his pocket and pulling out his lighter with his left hand, fishing out a cigarette to follow, “Got out a knot, s’all. You know how shit they are.” Beckman ignited the end, taking a lengthy drag and exhaling a puff away from your face.

“Really? That's all?” Shanks cried out a laugh, the crew echoing his unashamed and carefree joy at the notion, “I thought I saw some hips moving together, Becks. You were letting some of your own groans out too, mewling like a wh-.”

“-Or should I relay half of the bullshit you curse out when Hongo releases the knots in your own shoulder?” Beckman smirked, his eyes daring his captain to say another embarrassing quip. After a pregnant pause, silent tension only momentary before another uproar of laughter barked out amongst the Red-Hair pirates.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm done,” Shanks waved his hand in the air, shooting you a small wink before turning to face his crew, “What say we make port, huh? Resupply with some fresh drinks, a hot meal, some good company, and a comfortable sleep on dry land?”

“Aye, sir!” the crew echoed in unison, your own confirmation falling from your lips as you began maneuvering around the first-mate to resume your duties. Just as you passed Beckman's shoulder, a firm hand shot out and gripped your forearm to hold you in place.

“Beckman?” you asked, turning to meet his eyes. You floated your own between his, hovering your attention to fixate on him completely, “Everything alright, Sir?”

“Goin’ back to ‘Sir’ again, after all that,” he murmured, barely above comprehension. Your quizzical feeling never left you, still hovering between the lenses of his glassy orbs.

“How you feeling?” he asked as he pressed down the filter end of the cigarette beneath the pad of his thumb, placing the butt-end in the small drawer attached to the hull of the ship, “I get it all out, or the ache still hangin’ in there?”

Humming in thought, you rotated your right arm and felt the ghost of your prior pain simmer down and flee from your form. The small pinch only remained behind in memory, but the small remnants of the ache threatened to return.

“It's gone for now, I think,” you uttered with a small shrug, “It'll likely begin the slow journey back up my spine in a pinch.” Beckman hummed in thought, nodding along as he checked over your body for any changes.

After a small lull, you held your ground as the atmosphere once again fell into awkwardness. You shook your head to stifle your nerves, sucking in a breath to elevate your courage.

“Can I buy you a drink or two when we get to port?” you ask him, eyes dropping to the ground and hands laced behind you, “An expression of my gratitude for you helping me out?”

“You askin’ me out on a date?” Beckman disguised his growing smile by arching himself away from you, loosening the tie in his hair and beginning to restyle it.

“And if I am?” you ask, still avoiding his gaze by holding your eyes firmly against the floor, “What then?”

“What then, Darlin’,'' he smirked, his eyes softening as his hands found your hips, “Is that I'd accept.” He pulled you flush with him, prompting your eyes to widen and search his gray orbs in your shock, “I wouldn't mind spending an evening with you, havin’ drinks in a quiet corner for a change.”

“It would be a nice change,” you confessed, eyes again falling soft for the first mate. He leant his hips back on the wooden railing, reaching up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. His index finger lingered on your chin, holding your eyes against his.

“What was it for you? To have you finally make a move after all this time?” he asked, his eyes turning playful as he looked down at you through half-hooded eyes, “The hands or the elbow?”

“I think it was the words,” you confessed with a small laugh, “Not used to having the Great Benn Beckman whisper: ‘be a good little thing and take it.’ Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm being honest,” a small choked pause fell from Beckman's lips, your own question now posed to him.

“What made you accept a drink with me?” you searched his eyes quizzically, pursing your lips as you continued, “We've served together for so long, what made you consider it now?”

“Oh Darlin', I've always considered it. More than considered it,” he huffed out a chuckle, bringing your face closer to his with the curl of his index finger, “Just didn't know how much I wanted it ‘til you started sayin' my name like that.” He hovered his lips over yours, his breath still scented with the sour, smoky tang of his last cigarette as he beckoned you in.

“Wouldn't mind hearing that again, if I'm bein' honest,” he parroted your words back at you before finally claiming your lips beneath his own in a chaste kiss. The attention he gave your lips was brief, ending contact almost as soon as they touched.

He pulled away from your lips, noticing your pout and slight agitation at the hastiness the kiss ended. Chuckling, he leant over your ear and confessed his intentions further.

“Cap’n’s watchin’,” he nodded over to where Shanks’ taunting eyes and winning smile wordlessly teased you both, “Don't wanna give him more ammunition to tease you with, Darlin'. No matter how much I really wanna kiss you.”

“I owe you more,” you hummed up at him with a soft smile, tucking the loose strand of hair away from his forehead and behind his ear, “Anything I can do to repay my growing debt to you? More than a couple drinks later, a little kiss, or taking care of your duties for you today?”

“Just the promise of your company later will do for now,” he chuckled, leaning into the heel of your palm with his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin.

“Aye, Sir,” you smirked at him, giving his cheek two gentle taps before returning back to duty with a newfound rejuvenation. Your limbs felt lighter, your body felt freer and your head felt less foggy with the prior pain you felt.

Shanks sauntered over towards his first-mate, smirking and kicking up his feet all along the way in a playful dance. Beckman shook his head, reaching for another cigarette and lit the end. Shanks leaned his head against Beck’s shoulders, uttering not a single word as he fluttered his eyelashes, wiggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue at the broody, larger man.

“Don’t even start,” Beckman growled under his breath. Shanks smiled wider, jolting his right index finger into Beckman’s side as he hummed up a playful mock at him.

“But you finally made a move, big man,” Shanks chuckled, nudging him with his left shoulder, “How long’s it been now? Two, maybe three years of longing, yearning and lusting from afar, hm?”

“Four,” Beckman commented gruffly, inhaling a deep breath of smoke in his mouth and holding it still behind his lips, “And I remember saying: ‘don’t even start’.”

“Alright, alright. I’m going, I’m going,” Shanks held his right hand up in defence, an extra buzz in his step at the knowledge that Beckman and you had finally allowed a small crack in the door open to engage with one another this way. A small chuckle erupted in Shanks’ voice, his own amusement adamant over his features.

“Right there Becks, don’t stop,” Shanks’ voice whined again in a needy moan, before growling out a rumbled mock of, “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you’re done,” he laughed, turning back over his shoulder, “Honestly, Beckman. Show a bit of composure, man.”

Beckman’s blush scorched scarlet on his features, prompting him to thrust the butt of his cigarette into the drawer and begin to charge at his Captain. Shanks shrieked out a giddy cry of amusement at his first-mate.

“Be kind and gentle with me, Becks!” Shanks laughed, turning tail and began running away in glee from successfully taunting his first mate. The barrelling boot heels of the first mate almost managed to catch up to the Captain immediately, but Shanks continued successfully darting away from Beckman’s disciplinary grasp.

#one piece #x reader #benn beckman #benn beckman x reader #beckman x reader #red-hair pirates #beckman #op benn beckman #op benn beckman x reader #red hair shanks

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geekgirl-1717 · 3 months ago

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sanji x reader. 2.5k words. spoilers for zou/whole cake island. fem! reader, no use of (y/n). angst no comfort :)

“i promise i’ll be back.”

it wasn’t uncommon for you and your crewmates to end up in unusual situations, but this was too much to handle. there was so much to process that you weren’t sure what to focus on first.

vinsmoke? wedding invitation? big mom? the situation was becoming more and more confusing by the second, and you could only watch helplessly as sanji became more and more distraught. you don’t think you had ever seen sanji so beside himself, and it made your heart hurt in a way that was hard to explain.

you weren’t sure when your feelings for sanji had bloomed into something more than just a friendship between fellow crewmates. at first, sanji treated you the same way as any other woman who so much as looked his way: doting and flamboyant and perhaps a bit obsessive. though sometimes endearing, his extravagant displays of affection and sugar-coated soliloquies of praise often struck you as superficial.

you always felt there was more to sanji, something authentic and vulnerable buried deep beneath his womanizing facade. it intrigued you from the moment you first met him, and after you joined the strawhats, you endeavored to uncover this hidden side to the chef.

you started spending more time in the kitchen, making casual conversation with sanji and watching him cook. initially, he kept up his loverboy antics around you, much to your chagrin. you could hardly say a word to him without sending him into a spinning, swirling mess of exaltations.

but with enough patience and gentle coaxing, sanji began to slowly open up to you. it started with simple anecdotes he shared while cooking. the story of the first time he ever made a particular dish. the origin of a certain recipe. a fond memory of his time at baratie. you cherished any and every tidbit of information he shared with you.

from there, your bond with the chef only grew stronger. upon arriving on a new island, instead of shopping with nami and robin or exploring with luffy and usopp, you would help sanji with food and supply runs, browsing local markets and searching for exciting new ingredients. watching sanji in the kitchen turned into helping him wash dishes turned into him offering to teach you how to cook.

these cooking lessons were the first hint that your relationship with sanji was developing into something more, something new and exciting and terrifying all at once. you felt your cheeks heat up whenever sanji would stand behind you while you chopped herbs or vegetables, placing his hands over yours to guide your movements and mumbling encouraging compliments in your ear no matter how rough and uneven your cuts were. when sampling something you made, he would always give you a beaming smile, patting your head and complimenting your work in such a genuine manner, it made your stomach flip. you pushed these feelings aside, not wanting to ruin this delicate friendship you’d worked so hard to form, but it was getting harder and harder to hide your affection for sanji with each passing day.

upon returning to sabaody after the two-year long separation, you quickly realized something had changed between you and sanji, something you struggled to put into words. of course, all of your crewmates had changed during that time, accruing new skills and stories and battle scars to bring into the new world. and you were no different. you had spent the bittersweet time apart from your crew getting stronger and honing your talents to ensure you could always help your friends and your captain, no matter how terrifying a threat you faced.

you had nearly tackled sanji in a spine-crushing hug the first time you saw him again, squeezing your eyes shut and burying your face into the crook of his neck to hide the joyful tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. you were immediately enveloped in the familiar scent of nicotine and cologne, and for the first time in two years, you felt truly at ease.

sanji was shocked initially, but allowed himself to sink into your embrace, returning the hug with equal fervor and running a soothing hand up and down your back. it was only after you composed yourself that you were able to notice just how much sanji had changed.

you pulled back from his grasp to fully take him in. he was taller, you noted, and the scruff on his chin had grown into a full, neatly-kept goatee. his hair was a tad longer, and you noticed he’d changed the way he parted his bangs. though mostly hidden from sight under the many layers of his suit, you could tell as you’d clung to him that he had gotten stronger, his lean torso now solid with sinew and muscle. you had always found sanji to be charming in a boyish way, lanky and wiry with soft, round cheeks that looked so squishable (not that you would ever say that out loud).

standing before you was no longer a boy, but a man, chiseled and toned and finally having grown into those long, powerful legs of his. the word “adorable” had often come to mind when you thought about sanji before, but that word no longer did him justice. now, he was strikingly handsome.

that notion pulled you from your thoughts, a flush spreading across your cheeks when you realized you’d been standing there for gods know how long, blatantly ogling sanji as you appraised his appearance. luckily, he seemed to be stuck in a trance of his own, looking you up and down and admiring all the ways your appearance had changed since you last saw each other.

you both had the decency to look somewhat ashamed when you finally locked eyes again, realizing what the two of you had just been doing.

from that point on, everything was different. you could dice an onion or peel a potato with ease, but sanji always insisted on helping you, pressing his chest against your back and brushing against your sides as his hands moved to gently wrap around your own. these once-harmless touches were more deliberate, lingering just a second too long. you weren’t even listening to his instructions anymore, distracted by his hot breath against your ear and wishing you could hear his whispered praises for more than just your vegetable-cutting skills.

with many of the great adventures the crew had came many experiences you wished you could forget, and unfortunately nightmares were becoming a more common occurrence for you. on those nights when you knew sanji was on watch duty, you instinctively sought his presence. he always welcomed you with open arms, pulling you close to his chest to protect you from the chilly night air and the terrifying images that plagued your weary mind. the smell of cigarette smoke once bothered you, but now it was one of your favorite scents, mingled with hints of spices and cologne in a blend that was so uniquely sanji. whether it was a snack, reassuring words, or just a warm blanket with a warmer hug, sanji would give you whatever you needed and more.

you never said anything about your feelings for sanji and if he felt the same way about you, he was similarly silent. for months, the two of you had been like celestial bodies, pulled in by the weight of your attraction and perpetually orbiting around each other, never wanting to get too close in fear of a catastrophic collision ruining this perfectly-orchestrated dance.

and now, you were losing him.

you started panicking, unable to remain calm for sanji’s sake anymore. you pulled at your restraints, the metal chains rattling and clanking loudly against each other. your voice was shaky and strained, but you couldn’t stop the frantic pleas that came pouring out of your mouth.

“sanji, please. i don’t- i don’t know what’s going on or what they’re telling you, but please.”

you knew you sounded utterly pathetic, but you couldn’t help yourself. you saw sanji’s shoulders tense before he stood up from the table.

when you finally saw the look on his face, tears poured from your eyes in earnest. he was smiling, but it was a sad, empty smile, like he was trying to convince you everything was alright even though you both knew it wasn’t. his gaze held a swirling hurricane of emotions; guilt, regret, hesitancy, bitter resolve, and… tenderness? love? you didn’t know.

the clanking of chains grew louder as you struggled harder against your bonds, uncaring of the strain it was putting on your wrists. the words were spilling out of you like vomit, fast and jumbled and out of control.

“sanji. sanji, it’s okay. it doesn’t matter- it doesn’t matter what they’re telling you. d-don’t listen to them. we’ll help you! we’re your friends! i-we care about you. we’ll fight whoever we need to fight! just please! please don’t leave.”

you’d been nearly shouting, but the last sentence came out quiet and soft, quiet enough that sanji may not have heard you had he not been slowly making his way over to you during all of your rambling. that sad smile never left his face as he kneeled down in front of you.

one hand came up to stroke your cheek, futilely brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. he leaned in so his forehead was pressing against yours, whispering so that only you could hear him.

“i’m so sorry, love.”

you hardly had time to process his words before he pressed his lips against yours.

the kiss was gentle, chaste and pure and perhaps a little hesitant at first, as though he were afraid you would pull back at any moment.

but you didn’t.

tears still streaming down your cheeks, you reciprocated as best you could, pouring all of your unspoken devotion and affection for sanji into the kiss.

suddenly, everything fell away around you. the fire-tank pirates were letting out groans of discontent, intermingled with the shocked gasps of your crewmates next to you. you heard none of it. as far as you knew, you and sanji were the only two people in the world right now.

sanji was always so selfless, putting the needs of his friends above his own and bending over backwards to fulfill any request given to him. but in this one moment, he was greedy. his hand slipped down from your cheek to the back of your neck, tilting your head slightly and kissing you like it was the last thing he would ever do on this earth. the sharp taste of menthol mixed with the saltiness of tears as you moved your lips against sanji’s, savoring every second of the kiss and dreading the inevitable moment when you would be forced apart.

“kissing another woman right before your wedding? vinsmoke, you dog!”

bege’s voice cut through the stunned silence that had permeated the room, replacing it with raucous laughter and jeers.

as if snapped back into reality, sanji reluctantly pulled away, giving you one last sad smile before turning his attention to the rest of your crewmates next to you.

you knew he was saying something to them, slipping some piece of paper into nami’s pocket and apologizing for how he’d hid all this from the crew. you couldn’t care less, though. you would gladly get caught in a web of lies spun by sanji if it meant you could be with him.

sanji pulled you and your crewmates into his arms, giving you all a final embrace. you wished you could tear off your chains if only to hold him one last time, but you settled for burying your face in his shoulder, basking in the smell of cigarettes and spices and cologne you’d grown to love so much.

it seemed the universe couldn’t allow you even the briefest of indulgences as you were ripped from your reverie, a sudden feeling of weightlessness shocking your senses. you and your crewmates had been sent flying, hurtling out of the strange entity that was capone bege’s body.

everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. you wouldn’t be surprised if the earth itself had stopped spinning in that moment. you were able to make out sanji’s expression in extraordinary detail. it was as if your mind knew this could be the last time you ever saw him, and you wanted to commit his every feature to memory.

he wore a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, one that you could tell was fake even if you hadn’t already seen him smile a hundred times before. it was nothing like the way he smiled while he was cooking for the crew, easy and contented and in his element. it was nothing like the way he smiled at you when you proudly displayed the dish you’d made under his guidance, toothy and beaming as the corners of eyes crinkled with joy.

it was nothing like the way he smiled when it was just the two of you in the crow’s nest late at night, gentle and loving and full of so much that was left unspoken.

no, now sanji’s smile was shallow, empty. his words were somehow even more hollow as they reached your ears.

“i promise i’ll be back. tell everyone i said hi.”

liar.

you’d didn’t even try to brace yourself as you hit the ground with a dull thud, now back in the forest of zou. your crewmates were talking worriedly around you, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying.

your tears had all dried up now. you stared at the sky with an empty gaze. the chains were still digging into your skin, but even the insistent press of the harsh metal couldn’t compare to the anguish in your heart. sanji’s last words to you played over and over in your mind like a broken record, each rendition making your chest ache further and further.

“i promise i’ll be back.”

liar.

#reader insert #fanfic #one piece #one piece fanfiction #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece x reader #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #angst #angst no comfort #I finally got to zou/whole cake and this scene made me cry so I must share my sadness with everyone :)#consistent post formatting? what’s that?

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otkuhotgirl · 3 months ago

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─── 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐓 .

# with donquixote doflamingo.

the man who conquered it all could not have predicted the boredom that came with settledness. yet, fucking you with an audience was entertaining enough.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day thirteen. smut (mdni!). dacryphilia. humiliation kink. voyeurism. slapping. drugging. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.5k

don quixote doflamingo was an untouchable man, for neither the government nor a commoner had enough power and influence to rival one beyond a celestial — a king. that who would grow into the commander of all, rather than the mere master of a meaningless kingdom; that whose future was trailed to conquest. comfort had been the most prominent gift offered by power, yet with it came boredom. those who dared defy him could not match the strength of the weakest members of his family, let alone a single one from his elite officers. arrogance could lead him so far before the settling of inevitable dullness. a warlord; a king; a dragon. despite the revolt born from the reminiscence of his past, being honest with himself, the age of pirate life, dangerous-filled, at least had a tinge of excitement to it. the settling down that came with the successful crafting of an empire was a disappointment that, although predicted, remained frustrating.

doflamingo was unused to the process of yearning, for his seizing of what was wanted was immediate. he had been a child famished for prestige and vengeance; a teen striving for riches; an adult who at last conquered it all, yet it was far from enough. not a thing in the world could quite affect him; how one could bother the man who had whatever his heart desired? he pondered on the perspective of conforming to the scenario at hand — until you showed up.

he claimed you as he did most things throughout his life — coercion with threatening innuendos and promises of violence. you were neither given a choice nor an escape route; he craved you, therefore he would have you. the fact that you were so willing to submit was but a treacherous, laid-out trap. you behaved as though an innocent rose — innocent, willing, made to be ravaged — and once doflamingo grew used to your presence, adoration overcoming lust; having you as the favorite doll on his shelf; you surprised him with the serpent hidden underneath the petals.

the carnal endeavors were not exclusive. doflamingo made it clear that he could have you and countless others, daring to command you to remain by the pool while he had women piled on his lap. you were unfazed — ever his obedient pet — until his passion bloomed, meaning you were no longer expendable: you were his lover; a member of his family. once you realized that, said viper fangs dug through flesh and injected its poison into his bloodline. so long as you existed, doflamingo could be affected; the downfall of a god. and you were far from unaware of that privilege — especially once he ditched other women, for they were not you.

the first time you had pulled that move was during a warlord reunion — boring, catastrophic. doflamingo had brought you along for the merest sake of flexing his lover, yet the brief lack of explicit affection altered the function of your character to those who observed without context.

to them, you were but a supposed crewmate; a subordinate meant to aid were things to go sour. as a consequence, within the merest blink of an eye, you were found not by his side — but rather entertaining crocodile’s advances. doflamingo was well-aware of the distaste the fellow warlord felt for him, and enough a smart individual not to underestimate said man’s intelligence. the crystalline flirting had been a mute, mutual decision to vex him; to force him into discomfort.

doflamingo half-expected the rage to consume every nerve at the sight of another’s hand on your body; to have a languid tongue of fire teasing the flesh of his heart. yet that had not been the case. the man was surprised at the realization of his own amusement at the sight, the treacherous trail of his thoughts, treading on the image of crocodile’s fingers on your flesh; fragments of sand blooming goosebumps on your arm. crocodile would never steal what was his; doflamingo would wrap strings around that neck without second-thought was he to dare claim you. a full-blown fight would be interesting, although with predictable results — doflamingo would emerge victorious, as per usual.

the man untouchable granted a weakness of ridiculous character. at the end of such a reunion, doflamingo ravished you on the ship throughout the entire return to dressrosa — and that had been the most exhilarating experience he had in ages.

doflamingo had no need to express said desire. you noted it through the manner with which his touch shifted — the applied pressure, the rough, erratic pace of his cock pistoling itself inside. you were given mute, explicit permission to misbehave, doflamingo wanted you to flirt and lure others into his web; drew pleasure from the desperation in their eyes upon the realization of who was the man you belonged to. whenever you were to leave, doflamingo had the servants paint your skin with black-ink in swirling patterns. he’d accompany you; hidden, amused. observing as those men’s fingers stained the texture of your flesh, digits indicating where you were touched. doflamingo did not care about those men whatsoever, murdering them as soon as they dared cross a line.

rather than wiping the ink, he’d throw your back against the pool of blood and claim you then and there — forcefully mingling black and red into your flesh, adding the white of his cum thereafter. oftentimes he’d have the men alive, forced to watch his cock entering your cunt; to hear your delicious moans. his strings would wrap itselves around their throats; slice their flesh. and then — only then — would doflamingo tear your clothes off, expose your nipples to his eyes. it was better when said individuals were commoners; low-lifers. self-proclaimed important men were arrogant enough to withstand the weight of his presence; stupid enough to dare touch covered inches of flesh where the ink had not reached. his excitement would be maculated by the rage, born from said display of impertinence, and if one was to be fair the enticement lost its appeal when he was forced to face such smugness. allowing you to participate in the diplomatic dinner with the marine forces had been an error, for vice-admirals were not quite as often moral as those who occupied a higher position in the hierarchy. the man was strong — drunk, too — and you had him wrapped around your finger, serving him wine; trailing your index down his chest. the man was served the most delicious meals; offered the most matured alcoholic beverages. and, unbeknownst to him, had the king of dressrosa’s lover in his lap.

doflamingo clutched his bottle, erection enclosed by the fabric of his underwear. the vice-admiral nudged your neck with his nose, and doflamingo smirked when your eyes trailed to his own, angling your head in order to give the officer a better access to your skin. he could not kill that man — too important; too risky — a fact you were well-aware of, forcing his hand without second thought, daring him to persevere. he clicked his tongue, spreading his legs under the table and not minding enough to suppress his delighted grunt when the tip of your heel reached his shaft. in order to do so, you moved your ass where you sat on the vice-admiral’s lap, and when his eyes filled with lust, doflamingo’s fingers twitched, a single string teasing your neck. he could not touch that man, but you — you belonged to him. doflamingo was allowed to treat you as he pleased.

he tied the string around your chest, forcing your cleavage to spill out. the vice-admiral’s eyes glued to it, whereas doflamingo’s glance tethered itself to your face. you grinned in pure delight, grinding against the drunk man’s cock on purpose — in such a bliss that he remained unaware of the cat-and-mouse game happening in front of him. he tightened the grip on your throat, drawing pleasure from your hooded eyes. doflamingo tugged at the string ever-so-slightly, forcing your chest forward into the table, aware that the vice-admiral’s tip would poke at your ass. he grunted at the thought, feeling the first drops of his pre-cum that all but stained the fabric of his underwear.

“how do you like the wine?” he inquired, drowning his throat with it, observing the vice-admiral’s vicious glance.

the man seemed to have been reminded of the character of his visit — to form a deal between the warlord and the government; not to get a hand wrapped around his cock. yet, he struggled to remain composed; to focus where it mattered.

“it’s delicious,” he answered, though his eyes were glued to your figure.

doflamingo snapped his fingers, calling a servant in. the woman brought yet another bottle, and with the vice-admiral’s attention elsewhere, it was easy to pour droplets of a strong somniferous into the wine. a flick of his fingers had the bottle sliding through the table into your seat, and you raised an eyebrow.

“doffy,” you complained. “we were having fun.”

“pour it,” doflamingo demanded, and you all but scoffed — an attitude he’d correct later-on.

rather than doing it so, you parted his lips open with your thumb, convincing him to open his mouth. you poured the beverage inside, forcing him to swallow. doflamingo’s cock twitched as a string of red wine dripped down the vice-admiral’s chin, and he all but relaxed, though quite awake still, as if stuck into a particularly odd dream. the second the other’s grip on you loosened, doflamingo tapped on the table’s surface, and you knelt upon it, driving yourself towards him as though a mischievous cat. he licked his lips, well-aware of the vice-admiral’s state of dazed consciousness. he kicked the table’s leg, forcing you to fall face-straight into his chest.

“fun,” he echoed, gripping your nape and thighs. “i doubt a marine would know the meaning of fun, little bird.”

you hummed, burying your nose in his neck. “should we teach him, doffy?”

doflamingo laughed, angling his chair in order to give the drugged vice-admiral the full sight of what was about to happen. he would not dare remove your shirt, for not another deserved to have your breasts etched into memory; more importantly, you hadn’t worked enough for your nipples to be worth the attention of his tongue. instead, he raised the hem of your dress and tugged at the waistband of your underwear, unable to contain the excitement.

“tear it off,” he teased, brushing his erection against your covered cunt. you mewled, starting to move as if to remove your panties. “stupid, little bird. i told you to tear it.”

his hand forced your chest to meet his, and his long tongue darted out from his mouth to lick your cheeks. doflamingo’s grip was but a cage, and your fingers struggled to rip those panties — an order he would have no problem in accomplishing were the roles reversed.

“can’t handle it yourself, little bird?” he teased, rutting his hips in order to tease your entrance. you whined, meeting his pace; grinding against his cock.

“doffy,” you mewled, ceasing the movement of your fingers for the sake of your brief pleasure.

“what, you think shoving those panties aside would be enough?” he mocked, resting his back on the chair. “i’m an important man.”

the glance you sent his way was anger-filled; frustrated. he ignored it, grunting at the sight of your struggling figure, all but laughing throughout the time demanded for your underwear to be ripped in half. doflamingo smirked, satisfied with your desperation. he refused to offer any sort of aid, comfortably resting while you were forced to remove the lower-half of his clothes — managing to lower it down only enough to free his cock from its confines.

“pathetic,” he spat, gripping your throat; forcing your glance to meet his. “that’s why you resort to low-lifers, is it not? you’re a whore at your core, little bird, unworthy of a king.”

his palm met your face; a powerful slap that had your head angled to the side with sudden violence. you moaned, leaning into his touch regardless of the strength dwelled upon it.

“were you turned on?” doflamingo inquired, gripping your chin. “when his cock poked at your entrance, were you dripping wet?”

“no, doffy,” you stated, tearing up due to the aggressiveness poured into the touch.

he laughed, moving his head with certain disappointment. doflamingo snapped his hips, forcing his erection to settle amidst your folds, the wetness that enveloped the sensitive flesh of his tip causing him to grunt with sheer desire, increasing the pressure applied on your chin.

“lying slut,” he accused, gripping your hips to guide the grinding of his cock. “look at how wet you are.”

“only because you were staring at me,” you countered through a shrieking shout. he laughed, despite the painful state of his erection.

“is that so?” doflamingo taunted. “a pathetic excuse of a creature aching for a god’s cock. how egotistical.”

“doffy—”.

“beg for it,” he snapped, teasing your lips open with the tip of his tongue.

“please, doffy,” you pleaded, rolling your hips with a moan and an arch of your back, failing to please yourself without further aid. “i need you, i need your cock.”

“to do what?”

“to fuck me! please, make me cum, doffy. only you can.”

“pitiful,” he continued, raising your hip ever-so-slightly to shove his cock inside. you gripped his shoulders, searching for equilibrium, and shouting as his girth split you open.

doflamingo was a man whose height surpassed that of the common average — as a consequence, the same could be applied to the length and width of his shaft. in order not to cause greater pain to his lover, certain particularities needed to be considered. a proper teasing beforehand to guarantee natural lubrication; gradual insertion to avoid sudden stretching. yet, he did not care about that in such an instance whatsoever, merely licking the tears that traveled through your cheeks, bruising your cervix with his tip.

without further ado, doflamingo forced you to move; to bounce on his cock. he raised your figure to pistol his erection from the base to the tip, tearing your walls; demolishing from the inside-out. you moaned, and doflamingo angled his head to meet the unfocused glance of the vice-admiral, grinning as the room filled with the sound of his balls meeting your ass. the increase of your pace; the way your fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulders. you were nearing your release, and doflamingo settled back, no longer thrusting into you.

“doffy!” you shouted, and he didn’t hesitate to slap your face as a reprimand.

“who do you think you are, whore?” doflamingo snapped. “if you want to cum, work for it.”

your legs trembled; constricted. his back met the chair, hands above his nape. your breasts matched the pace of your bouncing, restless and without proper rhythm. sweat emerged on your temples, leisure movements that did nothing to soothe the tide of crippling desire that had your essence coating his monstrous size. doflamingo clicked his tongue with nitid disappointment, gripping your throat. his erection retrieved from your walls the second he forced your back against the table, only to be yet again shoved inside without ceremonies, causing you to shout due to both pain and pleasure.

“how useless,” he noted, licking his lips at the sight of his cock, the poking tip ever-so-visible through your stomach. “can’t even get yourself off.”

“i am,” you sobbed, legs spreading open as your walls clenched around his erection. “need you, please, young master!”

doflamingo grunted, tilting your head up; angling your sight of vision to have you facing the vice-admiral. “if you dare stop to look at him once, you won’t get to cum.”

you moaned and nodded your head, tethering your glance to the man in question. doflamingo’s pace had the table scratching against the ground, your back arching once his thumb applied pressure on your clit. at each given thrust, he bruised your insides further; walls swallowing him whole; g-spot finding no reprieve whatsoever. doflamingo kept his eyes tethered to your face, grunting, for your attention was offered to another. his cock twitched; his expression contorted into one of sadistic pleasure. he did not bother to warn you of his nearing bliss, instead allowing his cum to smear your insides, thrusting himself with regained ruthlessness as he rode the epiphany of his orgasm.

once he was done, doflamingo sat back yet again, removing his shaft from your cunt without further thought. you gasped due to the extreme revolt, supporting your weight on your elbows.

“you told me i’d get to cum,” you complained, and doflamingo wrapped a string around your thighs, tugging you closer.

“if you worked for it,” he pointed out, grinning. “and you haven’t; not yet. what will you do, little bird?”

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