#mihawk x reader fanfic

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Next chapter incoming

I didn't except it this soon, either.

It's still writing itself and dear GODS I hope this momentum continues.

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch.8 of who even fcking knows like maybe ten-ish...? First Chapter Link for newcomers, will update with other chapter links soon

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. You're his prisoner now, and you have no real hope left that you can see aside from his acceptance of the Warlord proposal.

We're venturing into NSFW territory in this chapter. So Warnings for that, and continued Yandere stuff.

Wordcount: 3588

Taglist: @i-am-vita, @browneyedhufflepuff, @h0n3y-l3m0n05, @littleleelee, @nerium-lil, @dragon-bubs , @animefreak818 , @byysandra , @lufemia , @gizamalblythe, @lufemia @schanwow

You guys are all amazing tysm!!!!!

The first time you had awoken in the castle on Kuraigana Island, you had jumped so badly you had very nearly reverted straight out of your devil fruit form—and that in itself would have marked the end of your mission before it had even truly begun, given you had fallen asleep perched on Mihawk’s shoulder.

You jolted awake just as violently this time, and the first thing your gaze fixed upon was his sharp yellow eyes. You did panic for a moment, attempting to shift back into the avian form you had grown so accustomed to over the past two months, before remembering exactly where you were—lying across the cold stone floor of the dungeons.

Exactly how you had come to be here—by making the mistake of sneaking about in the middle of the night to call Bogard and inform him that you had no choice but to shift to plan B and propose the offer of Warlord status to your target.

Your target, who was seated in a chair in your damp, dark dungeon cell, staring down at you with a speculative frown.

“Awake at last.”

You winced as you strained against the floor to pull yourself up into a sitting position, too groggy for a moment to register why you were having such a difficult time, until the seastone shackles around your ankles clinked and rattled with your movements. Right. He had made completely sure that you wouldn’t be capable of escaping.

“You chose a particularly inopportune moment to faint earlier,” he commented, crossing his arms. “We were discussing this Warlord offer your superiors are considering presenting me with.”

You only vaguely recalled bringing it up—it must have been in the moments just before you lost consciousness. It was clear he had left you alone at some point during your slumber. He now had his open trench coat draped around his shoulders, his sword leaning against the corner of the cell. He traced your line of sight over to it and gave a small chuckle.

“Don’t worry yourself, dear. I simply prefer having my blade close. Though I’m sure you know that. You know a great deal more about me than I do you, after all. But I’m sure,” he went on, standing from the chair. You pressed your back against the wall as he approached you slowly, the toes of his boots coming to stop mere inches from your bare feet as he looked down at you, “that will come to change in time.”

He held his hand down toward you. You stared at it for a moment, before slowly lifting your hand, your breath catching as he took it in his with an almost gentle grip, this thumb tracing across your knuckles for a moment.

“You don’t have a fighter’s hands,” he said, turning your hand over, his much larger, rougher fingers tracing across your smooth palm. “Have you trained in anything aside from subterfuge?”

“Basic combat,” you said. “I’m best with throwing weapons and small blades.”

“Ideal for your stature and talent in stealth operations,” he commented.

He gave a small, thoughtful hum—then wrapped his hand around yours and pulled you to your feet, grabbing you by your hip before you could stumble straight into him. He turned with you and moved a hand to your shoulder, pushing you down into the chair he had just vacated himself.

“And, purely out of curiosity, what of your knowledge in birds?” he asked, pacing around the side of the chair slowly. “I can’t imagine you learned any of that from your Marine comrades.”

You shook your head, swallowing as his shadow fell over you from behind, glancing over at his hand resting against the back of the chair. “M...my mom,” you said quietly, your stomach churning at the sudden thought that you would probably never see her again. “She’s an ornithologist. Specializing in parrots and corvids. She runs a rescue service for them. I learned everything from her.”

“And yet you chose to join the Marines?” he said, amused. “Perhaps your father’s influence?” You gave a short nod. “Of course. Could have stayed at home on the farm, safe and sound, and yet...here you are. But I suppose it did give you the experience necessary to utilize your devil fruit to its fullest effect. I can see why your superiors chose you for this task. Not many could have pulled it off as well as you did.”

You felt the chair creak behind you as he leaned down against it, sending a cold chill down your spine as he reached up to brush your hair behind your ear, to tilt his head and fix you with an amused smirk as your shoulders grew stiff as stone.

“That was a compliment, little bird,” he said lightly, tracing his index finger slowly down the curve of your neck. “What do we say when someone compliments us?”

“Th—thank you,” you forced out, swallowing. “S-sir.”

“Good girl,” he lilted softly, close to your ear.

You thought you might faint all over again when he briefly pressed his lips to your temple before straightening back out and lightly ruffling your hair. As gentle as his actions seemed, they were laced with a thinly veiled threat—a threat that if you did anything other than what was asked of you, what he expected of you, there would be swift and severe repercussions. He didn’t have to say it for you to know it to be true.

“Are you able to provide me with the full details of this whole Warlord proposal?” he asked, moving around to the other side of the chair. He stopped in front of you, crossing his arms. “Or will you need to contact your superiors?”

“They would know more than I would,” you said quietly—and that wasn’t a lie. You had been given the basic details, but he would need to speak with someone of much higher rank than you to garner any further information. “I—I can call them. They’d likely want to set a meeting if you’re interested—”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves,” he said. “I’m interested to hear more of what the World Government might consider a mutually beneficial arrangement between pirates and Marines. I haven’t said I’m interested in the offer itself yet. That being said…”

You shifted back in the chair when he knelt down in front of you, reaching into his pocket—but all he pulled out was a small ring of keys. You recognized the Marine insignia etched into the metal ring before he lifted your foot and turned one of the keys in the shackle wrapped around your ankle.

“I am interested to speak to your commanding officers,” he said, lowering your foot back down. He lifted the other, and paused with the key in the lock, his sharp eyes darting up to meet yours. “You will accompany me to the study in the tower below my bedchambers. Should you make any attempt to escape or use your devil fruit ability, I don’t think I have to tell you what will happen.”

You swallowed, nodding quickly in understanding. “Y-yes, sir.”

“Very good. I was fairly sure you’d understand.” You bit your lip as he slipped his hand slowly up the length of your calf, his palm coming to rest against the side of your thigh just above your knee, his eyes remaining on yours as he turned the key and pulled the shackles away from you. You flinched as he lightly squeezed his hand around your thigh, keeping his hand there as he stood and rested his other hand against the back of the chair, hovering over you. “You’ll stand slowly, and you’ll walk in front of me. I don’t think there’s any need for me to hold your hand like a child. You ought to know your way around fairly well by now.”

“Y...yes, sir,” you repeated weakly.

Hundreds of thoughts swam through your head as you lead the way from the ground floor of the old, expansive castle to the eastern tower—whether you would ever see or speak to your mother again, how Garp and Bogard would respond to the news that you were compromised, whether or not you would even live to see the light of the next morning, why Mihawk was being so gentle with you, why you felt a flutter deep in your stomach every time he touched you.

Why, for the entire duration of the walk up to the study, with him even stopping once to allow you to venture alone into a small bathroom to clean yourself up and tend to any other personal needs—why you didn’t once consider the possibility of a potential escape plan.

He expected you to comply—he wouldn’t expect you to shift into your devil fruit form at the nearest window and take flight off into the quickly darkening evening sky.

Yet the thought only crossed your mind once he sat in the armchair behind the desk in the study, the thought of why you hadn’t considered the possibility. Before you could consider it any further, he lifted his hand and motioned for you to come over, leaning forward to pull the den den mushi across the desk toward him.

“You’ll call your superiors,” he said, his gaze not once leaving you as you slowly crossed the room. You nodded, stopping in front of the desk and reaching for the device. “No.” He pulled it further out of your reach, motioning for you again. “Come here.”

You tensed at the sharpening of his tone, and moved around to the opposite side of the desk with a little more urgency, stopping a few feet away from him, your eyes flickering between his yellow irises and the snail.

Closer, when he motioned for you again, stopping at the side of the chair, staring down at your feet as you shifted your weight between them.

You glanced up when he lifted his head again, pointing down at the floor and making a small, tight circular motion. “Turn,” he instructed.

You obeyed immediately, turning around slowly, arms crossed tight across your churning stomach.

“Better. Now…”

Your eyes clenched shut when he wrapped his hand around your wrist, gasping in alarm when he pulled you down, down onto the chair with him, your back against his chest. His hand left your wrist to brush against your hair, tucking the strands behind your ear and your shoulder.

And they shot open again when you felt him lean forward behind you, his broad torso pressed against your back, watching him grab the receiver of the den den mushi.

“Make the call for me, pet,” he said, handing it to you before pulling his arm tight around your waist, holding you against him as he leaned back again. “And keep quiet unless I say otherwise. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.” You couldn’t speak in anything more than a strained whisper, your face flaring with heat, immediately reaching forward to dial the number at his command and holding the receiver between his ear and your own.

You shut your eyes again when you heard a familiar, gruff voice answer.

“Vice Admiral Garp. If you have this number you know what to do.”

“Vice Admiral Garp,” repeated Mihawk, sincerely surprised. “Garp the Fist. Hero of the Marines. My, my. I suppose I should be honored.” You drew in a sharp breath as his fingers curled lightly, possessively around your waist, as he turned his head and rest his forehead against your temple, his voice soft and warm against your ear. “I had no idea the adorable little pet you sent me was so important.”

You flinched at the sharp static that came through the other line for a moment, as if the old vice admiral had tightened his hand considerably around his own den den mushi.

“Dracule Mihawk,” he growled in response. “Where the hell is she?”

“Safe,” he responded. “Unharmed...relatively. Though I imagine she must be quite frightened, wondering what I plan to do with her.” You nearly whimpered when he reached across, curling a strand of your hair around his index finger. “Quite the gifted little spy. I might never have known what she truly was had I not overheard her conversation two nights ago.”

“Dammit, kid…” you heard Garp grumble under his breath. Then, louder, in a more commanding tone, “You’ve got two options, Hawk-Eye. You can let her go, or I can come get her myself.”

“With an entire armada of Navy vessels in tow, I presume?” he responded, sounding as if the idea bored him. “You’re not really in the position to be making threats, old man. The cadet is unharmed...for now. And really. You send me such a pretty little pet and expect me to sen her right back before I’ve even had any time to enjoy her company?”

You held your breath as his hand drifted down from your waist, his fingers brushing against the top of your thigh just below the hem of the over-sized shirt he had given you to wear.

“Call her your pet again, you sick son of a b—don’t—let go of that—”

“Mmm?” Mihawk hummed quietly, curiously at the sound of the brief scuffle at the other end of the call. You were fairly certain you knew what it meant, and...it was probably better that Garp didn’t handle this. Your suspicions were confirmed a moment later when another voice came through the call, far more curt but just as familiar to you.

“Read Admiral Bogard. My apologies for the vice admiral’s boorish behavior. He doesn’t handle negotiations well when it concerns one of our own. I presume this is a negotiation and you didn’t simply call for the sake of gloating?”

“Your presumption would be correct,” said Mihawk. “Though I admit, it was also to sate my own curisoty. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of supposed men would send such an innocent, vulnerable young woman on what could easily have turned out to be a suicide mission.” He rested his chin against your shoulder, trailing his dingers slowly back up the length of your thigh, smirking as you pressed your legs together tightly and tiny goosebumps raised across the surface of your skin. “I guess I have my answer.”

“I take it you have no intention of returning her without hostile measures being taken,” said Bogard, ignoring the taunt from the pirate. “I will ask yhat you allow her to speak so I can ascertain for myself that she is, as you claim, unharmed.”

“Oh, but of course,” said Mihawk, his voice low and dripping with mockery, his mouth nearly brushing your ear. “She’s right here, after all. Go on, pet. Speak.”

“I’m not hurt,” you said quietly.

“You’re sure?” You gave a quiet affirmative hum in response to Bogard’s question—and then jumped in alarm when Mihawk jerked the receiver from your hand, only to push it into your oposite hand. You swallowed, keeping your eyes turned down to your lap, to his hand splayed across your stomach. “Am I correct in assuming he’s listening?”

“Y—yes, sir.”

It became immediately clear why he had moved the receiver to your opposite hand, to the opposite side of your head—you pulled in a small, sharp gasp as his mouth touched the shell of your ear.

“H-he can hear me,” you added quietly, clenching your eyes shut as his hand clenched around the thin material of his shirt that covered your stomach and half of your thighs, tugging it a few inches higher. You could feel his lips curl into a smirk against the edge of your jaw.

“I wonder,” he murmured, “how long you can keep your composure, pretty bird.” He chuckled lightly at the shiver his voice sent through you—a shiver that, no matter how much you wanted it to be, wasn’t entirely in fear.

“Does he have any intention of harming you that you’re aware of?” asked Bogard. His tone was lighter now, but still kept its usual air of authority

“I—I don’t think so,” you said, fighting to keep your breath level as Mihawk trailed his lips lightly down the length of your neck, lifting his free hand to your jaw, urging you to lie your head back. You obeyed the silent command, your shoulders tensing as the back of your head fell back against his shoulder. “H—he-he wanted more details on the offer. The—the Warlord—”

“I’m sure he does,” said Bogard curtly. “And I’m more than willing to discuss it with him. Our immediate concern at the present is your safety. Are you able to tell us where you are?”

“I…”

“Go ahead, little cadet.” You swallowed at Mihawk’s low, amused murmur against your neck, his words affirming that he could still hear both ends of the conversation. “Tell Mommy and Daddy exactly where you are.” You bit back a whimper as he nipped lightly at your neck, his hand at your chin drifting down the column of your throat, stopping to circle a finger around the top button of your shirt.

“A study in one of the towers in the castle on Kuraigana Island,” you forced out quickly, tour words pressing together as he lifted you by your hip and shifted your position, pressing his knee between your thighs to push them further open.

“Alright. Good.” Bogard’s words sounded more distant to you with every passing second, your focus shifting to Mihawk’s hand slipping open the top button of your shirt. “You sound weak.”

“S-seastone,” you said quietly, fighting to keep the tremor out of your voice as the second button came loose, revealing the top of your plain white bra. You bit your lip, watching him push the shirt open enough to trace his fingers along the edge of the undergarment. “Seastone shackles. So I can’t use my devil fruit ability to escape.”

Even though he had removed the shackles before leading you up here, it was the first explanation that jumped to your mind to account for the low, trembling quality of your voice.

“Seastone. Of course,” Bogard said coolly. “Should have guessed. Wouldn’t have been difficult to salvage from one of the hundreds of our ships he’s destroyed…” He let out a sigh. “Do your best to stay safe. Do not attempt to escape on your own. Is that understood?”

“Mm—mm-hmm,” you hummed, almost whimpered, biting down on your bottom lip as Mihawk tugged the last few buttons of the shirt open, moving his hands to your shoulders to push the material down.

“Off,” he murmured against you jaw. “And you’ll hand the phone back to me.”

“H—he wants to—”

“Then put him back on,” said Bogard.

You quickly shifted the phone back to your other hand, and Mihawk plucked it away, holding it out at arm’s length as he briefly leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth as he commanded once more, “Off, pretty girl. Let me see you. I won’t ask again.” He pulled the receiver to his ear as you complied, trembling as you slowly shrugged the material away from your shoulders, pulling it free from your arms. “Bogard, was it?” you heard him say. “Oh, yes. I am very interested to hear more of how your people think any pirate might be inclined to consider becoming a government lapdog.”

He tugged you back against him again the moment you were free of the shirt, his fingertips tracing leisurely circles over the plane of your stomach.

Drifting higher and higher, playing against the edge of your ribs.

Slipping just beneath the lower edge of your bra, his lips curling into a smirk at the way you tensed against him, in some mix of anxiety and anticipation, growing less and less able to differentiate between the two.

Clenching your eyes shut and biting your tongue against a small whimper as he pushed his hand higher, cupping the swell of your breast in his palm, squeezing his fingers lightly around the pliable flesh.

You could hear his voice as the conversation dragged on, his tone as curt and professional as Bogard’s, but you could scarcely make out a single detail of his words with his rough hand brushing across your breasts, occasionally rolling around the sensitive points of your nipples, forced to use every ounce of your will to keep yourself silent—to pull your own hand up to cover your mouth and muffle a small cry when he lightly pinched one of the sensitive protrusions near the end of the conversation.

“Well, that’s all very intriguing,” he said with a light chuckle as he pulled you tighter against him. “I’ll have to take a bit of time to consider such a tempting proposal. I think...oh, forty-eight hours? Well, if that’s acceptable for you, then it’s more than acceptable for me.” You tensed as he shifted his hand beneath your bra, whimpering as he pinched your nipple a bit harder. “Ten o’clock, two days from now. Perfect. And be sure to inform your vice admiral that I’ll take very good care of our little cadet in the meantime. Oh, of course. No harm at all.”

He lowered his head, continuing in a murmur against your ear, his breath hot against your neck.

“She might not even want to return to your command once I’m through with her.”

[inseobts]

Unintentional couple behaviour

you two acts like a loving couple all the time, so what happens when someone points it out?

characters: luffy, kidd, katakuri, shanks and mihawk

(zoro, sanji, law, ace and sabo)

a/n: since a loooot asked for more, here I am eheh

words count: around 0.4k - 1.1k each

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Monkey D. Luffy:

You don’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way Luffy always stole food from your plate, but make sure to never let anyone else touch it.

Maybe it was how he always grabbed your hand first whenever the crew split up.

Maybe it was how he insisted on napping with you, his head always finding your lap, his arms always looping around you like a makeshift pillow.

Whatever it was, it had been going on for way too long. And the worst part is that you never questioned it.

Until now.

It starts with Sanji.

You’re sitting at the dinner table, picking at your food, when Sanji suddenly snorts “You two should just date already.”

You blink “…What?”

Sanji gestures between you and Luffy “You’re basically a couple anyway.”

You choke on your drink.

Luffy just tilts his head, mid-bite “Huh?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Seriously? You guys act like a couple all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue, to deny everything, but then Nami nods “He’s right, you know.”

Usopp grins “Yeah, I mean, have you even seen yourselves?”

Franky chuckles “Super obvious, bro.”

You stare. And then Zoro, of all people, grunts “They’re not wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. Luffy just blinks at all of them, then turns to you “Wait… are we a couple?”

Your face burns “No!”

The crew groans.

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re in denial.”

“This is painful to watch.”

You glare “We’re just friends!”

Luffy nods “Yeah! Just friends!”

The crew stares. Then Brook smiles “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked y/n out on a date?”

Silence.

Then Luffy’s fork snaps in half and the table goes dead quiet.

Luffy grins at Brook, but it’s not his usual happy-go-lucky grin. It’s the grin he wears before picking a fight.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs nervously “Just kidding.”

Luffy hums, still smiling “Good.”

Your stomach flips because holy shit. That was jealousy. Luffy was jealous... Over you.

The realization haunts you for the rest of the night. Because if Luffy was jealous then what did that mean?

Did he actually—?

No.

No, this is Luffy. He’s just protective. That’s just who he is.

…Right?

You barely sleep, and the next morning you wake up to Luffy in your bed.

Sprawled across your mattress. Arms locked around your waist. Face buried in your shoulder.

Like it’s completely normal.

Like he always does this.

Your heart pounds.

Because—wait!

He does always do this. Every night. Every time you’re on the Sunny, he sneaks into your bed without even asking. And you never questioned it.

Because it was just Luffy.

But now everything feels different.

You slowly try to move, but his grip tightens.

“Mm… don’t go” he mumbles sleepily, lips brushing against your skin.

And that’s it. You lose it.

“LUFFY, WHAT ARE WE?!”

Luffy jerks awake “Huh—?”

“What are we?!” you repeat, flustered as hell.

Luffy rubs his eyes, confused “We’re us.”

You groan “That’s not an answer!”

He tilts his head “What do you mean?”

You gesture wildly “This! Us! The sleeping together! The hand-holding! The food-sharing!”

Luffy suddenly grins “Oh.”

Your heart stops “What do you mean, oh?”

Luffy laughs. And then, without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you.

Soft. Certain.

Like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits.

He pulls back, grinning “So? Are we a couple now?”

You gape “…WHAT?!”

Luffy just laughs “Well, we’ve basically been dating this whole time, right?”

Your eye twitches “AND YOU KNEW?!”

Luffy shrugs “I just thought you knew too.”

You sputter, because what the hell. What the actual hell. Luffy just decided you were dating. And you never even noticed.

You flop back onto the bed.

Luffy just grins, tugging you closer “You’re thinking too much” he mumbles, nuzzling against you.

Your heart races.

Your face is burning.

But… maybe the crew was right. Maybe you and Luffy were always meant to be.

Even if you were the last person to realize it.

── .✦ Eustass Kidd:

You’ve always known Kid was the stubborn type. He was gruff, intense, and always had that tough guy act. But lately, you’ve noticed something strange. The more you were around him, the more he didn’t seem to mind you being there. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it.

It starts with those small things, things he doesn’t think twice about. Like when you’re both sitting on the deck, and a gust of wind hits just as you’re about to stand. Before you can catch your balance, Kid’s hand shoots out, steadying you. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip lingers just long enough for you to notice.

“Watch it” he mutters, his usual gruff tone, but there’s something softer behind his eyes. You smile but say nothing. Killer, standing nearby, simply raises an eyebrow before looking away, smirking under his mask.

A few days later, when the crew is at port, you notice Kid keeping an eye on you more than usual. Every time someone gets too close or even bumps into you, his sharp gaze zeroes in, and he doesn’t hesitate to step in between you and whoever’s too close. At one point, a shady pirate from a different crew tries to flirt with you. Before you can even respond, Kid steps forward, pushing the pirate away with a low growl.

“Get lost.”

You blink, surprised at his intensity, but he doesn’t look at you, just at the pirate who’s now backing off.

“Kid, I can handle myself” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by something. He turns away before you can say anything else, muttering about how annoying it is to babysit you. But you know it’s not just that.

The crew knows it too.

Heat lets out a low whistle as he passes by “Damn, Captain, didn’t know you were the protective boyfriend type.”

Kid turns on him with a glare “Shut the hell up.”

Heat just laughs, walking away. You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

Then, it all comes to a head one evening. The crew’s just finished a round of celebrations, the ship rocking gently in the quiet of the night. You’re leaning against the rail, enjoying the peace when you feel him behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” Kid asks, his voice low as usual.

You turn around, finding him standing there, arms crossed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his scowling face.

“I could ask you the same thing” you reply.

There’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, not speaking. His eyes never leave yours, and the tension between you both seems to grow with every passing second.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively, you move closer to Kid. You don’t even think about it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts from where it was casually resting at his side to just hovering near your waist.

The ship creaks, the quiet atmosphere making you both more aware of each other’s presence. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. His fingers are so close, just barely grazing your side as if to assure himself you’re right there.

The closeness feels… different. Intimate.

You glance up at him “Kid?” you ask softly, your heart beating a little faster.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, his eyes flicker over your face, and you can see the internal struggle within him. It’s a battle, and for a second, you think he might just ignore it, keep up the stubborn front.

But then, his hand finally rests against your side. His touch isn’t harsh, but gentle. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this shit” he admits, his voice low but clear “But when it comes to you… I don’t want to risk something happening.”

You blink, surprised “Risk what?”

His gaze softens, and the gruffness in his tone fades away. He looks straight at you, the usual deflective annoyance replaced with something more vulnerable.

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not after I saw that idiot trying to hit on you.”

You smile, your heart fluttering in your chest “Kid, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, but there’s no hiding the quiet affection in his voice now “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and before you can even respond, something unspoken passes between you both. In a split second, his lips are near yours, and the kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to show this side of himself.

But you kiss him back, your hand gently resting against his chest. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than either of you anticipated, but it feels like the world has paused, like this is the only thing that matters in that moment.

When you pull away, you both stand there in silence, but this time, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.

And then the moment is completely shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap your heads toward the entrance to the deck, where Killer and Wire are standing, watching with amused expressions.

“So,” Wire says, smirking, “you two finally gonna admit you’re basically married, or should we keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your face heats up immediately, but Kid just groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Go to hell” he grumbles.

Killer just shakes his head “Too late, Captain. Everyone’s been taking bets on when you’d figure it out.”

You gape “What?”

Wire grins “Yeah. Heat won. He said you’d kiss before the next port. Guess we owe him a round of drinks.”

Kid looks absolutely done. You, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. Because honestly? It’s not surprising.

You look back up at Kid, who’s still scowling but isn’t pulling away from you. You squeeze his hand briefly before grinning.

“Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but there’s no real annoyance in his expression anymore. Just acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something real.

── .✦ Red-Haired Shanks:

Being part of the Red Hair Pirates meant living in a constant mess of drinking, laughing, and reckless adventures.

And somehow you ended up being the most responsible one. Which was probably why everyone assumed you and Shanks were together.

The problem?

You weren’t.

But apparently, no one got the memo.

It starts with Yasopp.

You’re in the middle of patching up Shanks’ arm because, once again, he got into a bar fight for fun, when Yasopp smirks at you from across the deck.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re basically married to him at this point.”

You nearly stab Shanks with the needle.

“What?!”

Shanks, meanwhile, just laughs.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even deny it.

“C’mon,” Yasopp continues, “you take care of him, clean up after him, yell at him when he’s reckless...”

“I yell at all of you.”

“Yeah, but you baby him.”

Shanks grins “It’s true. You do.”

You glare “I do not.”

Shanks just shrugs “If you say so.”

And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.

Because after that the whole crew starts treating you like... ugh.

“Oi, Y/N! Can you grab Shanks another drink?”

“Y/N, tell the captain to stop picking fights with Marines again.”

“Hey, Y/N, Shanks says he wants something spicy, maybe you could help... and it's not about food”

You want to scream.

But Shanks?

Shanks just goes along with it. Smiling. Laughing. Letting everyone assume you’re his.

And the worst part is that you let them, because deep down you don’t hate the idea.

And that’s dangerous.

Then one night, it all clicks.

You’re sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by the crew, listening to them sing and drink and bicker over who can hold their liquor best.

You’re not paying attention until you hear your name.

“So, Captain,” Lucky Roux says, “when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your drink. But before you can argue, Shanks just grins.

“Oh, give it time.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

You just stare at him.

Because... what????

Shanks turns to you, smiling like he didn’t just casually imply he plans on marrying you.

And something in his expression—

Something warm. Something knowing.

It hits you all at once.

The hand-holding. The lingering touches. The way he always pulls you onto his lap when there’s no room to sit.

The way he lets you fuss over him when he gets hurt, the way he only ever listens to you.

The way he looks at you like you’re something precious.

Your heart pounds.

And Shanks just grins against your lips.

“Took you long enough” he murmurs.

And when you pull back, breathless, flustered, you realize that maybe you’ve been his this whole time.

You blink, heart still racing as the weight of his words settles in. The laughter of the crew fades into background noise, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows over Shanks’ face. He’s watching you, waiting, like he already knows the answer, like he’s known it for years.

And maybe he has.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to catch up.

Your throat is dry. You open your mouth, but no words come out, just a strangled sound of disbelief.

Shanks chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “You alright there, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he hasn’t just upended everything you thought you knew.

Your hands tighten in his shirt, and you can’t tell if it’s to ground yourself or to pull him closer “You...” you swallow, voice quieter now, meant just for him “You should’ve said something...”

He tilts his head, considering “I thought I did. Plenty of times.”

You scowl, smacking his chest lightly, which only makes him laugh “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know.” His fingers brush your jaw, featherlight, reverent “I just like seeing you all flustered.”

You groan, but you don’t pull away. And well, that says everything, doesn’t it?

And Shanks knows it too, because his grin softens, something unreadable flickering in his gaze “So,” he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your lips, “now that you’ve finally figured it out, what do you plan to do about it?”

The challenge is there, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it, something real.

You take a breath. Then, before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his coat and pull him in, kissing him again, firmer this time.

The crew erupts in cheers. Someone whistles. Someone else yells about winning a bet.

But all you can focus on is the way Shanks smiles against your lips, like he’s just won something far more important.

And maybe you have too.

── .✦ Charlotte Katakuri:

The first time someone calls you Katakuri’s spouse, you nearly drop your mochi donut.

“Excuse me, what?”

The Big Mom Pirates stare at you like you’re stupid.

“Well, yeah,” Oven says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “You take care of him, he lets you into his tea time, you’re the only one who sees his face—”

Brûlée smirks “And you always defend him when people talk behind his back.”

Daifuku nods “Might as well be married already.”

You sputter “That doesn’t mean—! We’re not—! He’s just my commander!”

Oven raises an eyebrow “You ever see Katakuri treat anyone else the way he treats you?”

You freeze.

Because... okay.

That’s a good point.

Katakuri isn’t exactly warm with people. He’s respected, feared, distant. A perfectionist. The strongest Sweet Commander.

And yet, with you?

He lets you tease him. Lets you see him.

Lets you in.

Your stomach flips.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You try to forget about it.

But after that you start noticing things.

The way Katakuri always saves you the best snacks at tea time.

The way he steps in front of you during battles without thinking.

The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his back, his face.

His unguarded moments are always with you.

And suddenly you can’t ignore it.

Neither can the crew.

It all comes to a head one evening.

You’re sitting with Katakuri in his usual spot, tea cooling beside him, the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. He’s eating, as usual, but his guard is down because you’re here.

And then the words slip out.

“…Katakuri.”

He glances at you, chewing “Hm?”

You hesitate. Then screw it.

“Are we… something?”

Katakuri pauses.

Slowly, he sets his cup down. Then he exhales, like he’s been waiting for this.

“You tell me,” he says, voice steady “Would it bother you if we were?”

Your heart pounds. Because no, it wouldn’t.

You swallow “No.”

Katakuri watches you for a long moment. Then, he smirks.

“Then I suppose we are.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Katakuri chuckles, low and deep “Did you really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

You gasp, because hold on. Has he known this whole time?!

Your face burns “You could’ve said something sooner, you jerk!”

Katakuri just leans closer, his presence overwhelming.

“…Would you have been ready to hear it?”

You freeze, because damn it.

He’s right.

── .✦ Dracule Mihawk:

Living on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk isn’t easy, but somehow, you get used to it.

You get used to the silence. The way he watches you over the rim of his wine glass. The way he corrects your sword stance with the barest touch of his fingers.

You get used to the way he does things for you without asking, bringing you an extra plate at meals, fixing your sword when it’s damaged, moving his coat so you don’t sit on the cold stone steps.

It’s just how he is... Or so you think.

Until one day Perona stares at the two of you across the dining table and snorts.

“You guys act like a married couple.”

You choke on your drink. Mihawk just raises an eyebrow.

Perona grins “Oh, come on! You live together, train together, eat together—hell, you even drink out of each other’s cups sometimes!”

You freeze.

Because—wait. When did that start happening?!

You sneak a glance at Mihawk, expecting him to argue.

But instead, he just takes a sip of wine and says, “And?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what does he mean, ‘and’?!

Perona cackles “Oh, this is gold.”

Meanwhile, you’re too busy spiraling to notice the small, knowing smirk on Mihawk’s lips.

Because the truth is, he knew all along.

The next few days pass in a strange haze. Every time you’re near Mihawk, you’re hyper-aware of his actions. The way he hands you your sword when it’s too heavy for you to lift properly, the way he adjusts your stance when you’re practicing, even the way he leaves his wine glass half-filled so you can sip it without asking.

You can’t help but start noticing the little things. And it makes your stomach do these strange little flips you can’t quite explain.

You try to convince yourself that you’re just overthinking it. After all, you’ve spent so much time together, working side-by-side, that it’s only natural for him to be a bit… attentive. But you can’t help but feel that there’s more to it than that.

One evening, you’re training in the yard. Mihawk is watching from the porch, as usual, but today there’s something different in the air. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or the strange feeling of him staring at you.

“Focus” he calls out when you fumble with your sword.

You grit your teeth and refocus, sweat already beading on your forehead. Your movements become sharper, more determined, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that something is… off.

When you finish the routine, Mihawk’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze. You give him a quick, sideways glance, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Something wrong?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

His response comes as a slow, deliberate drawl “You still aren’t quite in sync with your sword. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You feel your face flush, but you push through it “Yeah? Well, I’m not some grandmaster swordsman like you, Mihawk.”

He steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but his gaze softens for a moment “You’re getting better. I’m simply making sure you don’t lose track of your progress.”

The softness in his voice catches you off-guard, and for a split second, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something, something new.

But you quickly push it aside, shaking it off as just another passing thought. You turn to grab your sword again, determined to change the subject.

“Thanks for the help,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady “But I think I need a break. My arms are sore.”

Mihawk doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his tone unusually gentle.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been training for hours without rest.”

You give him a small, appreciative nod “I’ll be fine. You’re too used to looking out for me, Mihawk.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, but you notice that there’s a strange intensity in his gaze now “I suppose I am.”

Before you can react, you feel something slightly off, a flicker of tension between you two.

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And you feel it in the way he looks at you, the way he almost seems to be waiting for you to say something.

But, just like that, the moment passes. He steps back, motioning for you to take a rest.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he says quietly, as if nothing had happened “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You blink “You cook?”

“Of course,” he says with a slight, almost invisible smirk “It’s not difficult, and you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a proper meal.”

You feel your heart race at his words, but you manage to keep it together “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

But as Mihawk turns to walk away, you pause.

For just a second, you wonder... has this always been a normal interaction between you two? Or has it grown into something more without you even realizing it?

The unease gnaws at you as you sit down on the steps, watching him disappear into the house.

You’re overthinking it. You’re just friends.

...Right?

Later that evening, you’re sitting across from Mihawk, your meal already finished. The conversation is easy, but there’s still that lingering, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Finally, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice low and casual “You’ve been avoiding the subject.”

Your brow furrows in confusion “What subject?”

“The subject of us.”

You choke on your drink, sputtering “What—us?!”

His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting strange around me lately. Ever since Perona made her comment.”

You freeze “I—uh—”

“Let’s stop pretending,” he continues “We’ve been behaving like a couple, whether we admit it or not.”

Your heart starts to race. You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get stuck. Instead, you just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

And that’s when Mihawk leans forward just slightly, his voice dropping lower “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I do know that I don’t want you to leave.”

The bluntness of his words takes your breath away.

“I never planned to leave” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips.

Mihawk gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s so small and almost imperceptible that you’re not sure you saw it at all. But something in his eyes shifts.

“Good.”

And just like that, the tension finally breaks.

You’re not sure where this will go. But for now, you’re content to just be here with him, uncertain, but sure of one thing: neither of you are going anywhere.

[st4rpiece]

sleeping separately after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: mihawk, crocodile, and buggy x fem! reader summary: how cross guild would react to you sleeping alone after an argument CW: mainly fluff, slight angst others: not proofread, lowercase intended, and pictures found on pinterest

—————

Dracula Mihawk

mihawk is known for his stoic and composed demeanor. however, an argument that leads to you sleeping in the guest bedroom would shake his calm exterior. mihawk values control and precision, not just on the battlefield but also in his personal life. The argument would leave him feeling a sense of imbalance, disrupting the harmony he strives to maintain.

initially, he would analyze the argument with the same meticulousness he applies to his swordsmanship. he would replay the conversation, seeking to understand your perspective and where he might have gone wrong. he would be restless and his castle, usually a sanctuary of peace, would start to feel unusually empty and cold.

his conclusion? being right wasn't worth you being upset and distant with him. especially not when it meant sleeping alone.

"dear?" his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he enters the room.

"I would save this for the morning, but that would not sleeping in your arms tonight," he says, kneeling beside the bed and lifting you up bridal style. his actions catching you by surprise as you subconsciously wrap your arms around his neck for support.

"you can tear me a new one in the morning," he jokes (something he rarely did), before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead as he made his way back to your shared room.

Sir Crocodile

crocodile would initially react to an argument and subsequent separation with a sense of indifference. or at least that's how it looks on the surface. the argument would leave him brooding as he is not one to easily admit fault, and his pride would make it difficult for him to do so immediately.

he would spend the first half of the night in his office, surrounded by the trappings of his power, telling himself that you'd get over it soon.

as the night wore on, your lack of presence would make him realize that you weren't going to get over it soon. and by this point, he has had enough. he would make his way to the guest bedroom. without even bothering to knock, he would burst through the door, staring down your curled-up form. a pang of guilt would run down his spine as he looked at you.

"when are you coming to bed?" his voice rough, a complete contrast to the worry in his eyes and the guilt that he felt. he already knew the answer, so when you don't respond he would just lift you up, throwing you over his shoulder before landing a firm slap on your ass.

"you're mad? fine, be mad, but be mad in our room," he says sternly as he walks back to your shared room.

Buggy the Clown

buggy with his flamboyant and often comical personality would react to an argument with you more dramatically. the idea of you sleeping separately would initially infuriate him causing his pride and insecurities to flare up.

he would spend the initial moments of the separation grumbling and throwing a minor tantrum to anyone who could listen, convinced that he was right (he wasn't). however, as the night wore on, his anger would give way to the loneliness and regret he felt.

he would pace outside you door, muttering to himself as he debates whether to knock or not. not sure if you even wanted to see him after what he has done.

she's probably waiting, arms wide open, for me

or maybe she's packing her bags finally tired of my antics

oh nika i hope it's not that

in the end, he would knock on the door and try putting on a confident front even though he's low-key expecting you to ignore him. so when the door opens, the first thing you are greeted with is a shocked buggy, making another one of his goofy faces. this subconsciously cracks you up unknowingly breaking the ice for him.

"sugar! oh, how i've missed you," he would immediately pull you into a tight hug. and without much of a warning, he would start word-vomiting his apologies.

"i'm so sorry about my actions from earlier sugar and i’m sorry for being so stubborn about it. I understand now that i went too far and that i should’ve acknowledged that instead of arguing with you. but i promise that it won't ever happen again. so please forgive me this once, sugar?"

you don’t have it in you to send him away after all that so instead you would simply pull him into the room before turning and going back to bed this time with him following suit.

—————

part 1

hi guys! thanks again for reading, this is the second part and honestly the last, for op at least. buggy was surprisingly the easiest to write while mihawk was the hardest TvT. hopefully i did them all justice tho!!

i have a few ideas of what i want to write but if you have any suggestions for plot or character please let me know, i’m open to any ideas :).

[thepretentiousrizzmaster]

Just imagine

Posted on 05. 11. 23

18+ content ahead

"Oh god." You moaned as his thick cock was in you. And that's what he needs to hear, without a second thought he started bullying his dick in you. Oh, he absolutely loved this. He always lost his mind whenever you begged him to ruin you. He was moving inside of you at an animalistic pace. The only thing in his mind was to reach his climax, and bring you to yours in the process. He himself was an utter mess, morning, whimpering and almost tearing up from the overstimulation. But he didn't want to stop. He never wanted to stop. If he could he would be inside you all the fucking time, but he had business to take care of. So whenever he was blessed to be inside you, he savoured every damn moment.

Your rolled eyes behind and your toes curled. That's it you were there once again thanks to this crazy bastard, who was obsessed with your pussy. You could feel him twitching in you. He was there so were you. His pace increased. He was too lost in the feeling of your slopping warmth around his cock. His moans and loud grunts outmatched your screams and the sound of your skin against each other. "Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck daddy. Too much I can't." " A little more darling, a bit…" And, as your inner walls clamp down onto him, your tears falling on your face as a strained moan leave your lips. Oh, how divine it feels when you finally cum together, after all those rough strokes, stimulating you so perfectly in ways that you could never imagine, building up to that perfect moment again and again, both of you moaning like a mess as he fills you up as if you were his personal flesh light.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Shanks, Benn Beckman, Trafalgar Law, Eustass Kidd, Roronoa Zoro, Dracule Mihawk, Kakashi Hatake, Madara Uchiha, Sosuke Aizen, Kisuke Urahara, Shunsui Kyoraku, Toji Fushijuro, Nanami Kento, & your favourites ♡

MasterList

About the Blog

[undiscovered-horizon]

[To be loved is to be changed. And while being married to you has changed Mihawk, it's not entirely for the better. He's a possessive and protective lover to the marrow of his bones.]

(TW for unwanted sexual comments)

Mihawk knew the name 'Shantaro' quite well. Any time you told him a story from your adolescence that revolved around borderline illegal, unethical or simply reckless adventures, Shantaro was there. The little devil on your shoulder but as reliable as a true angel.

He, however, never expected you to run into Shantaro on the odd night when the two of you can go out. Comfortably basking in your presence, Mihawk is thoroughly enjoying your undivided attention.

Until.

You're suddenly rendered speechless as you notice something - someone - over his shoulder. A wide smile spreads across your face. Mihawk is unsure whether he should rejoice with how beautiful you look or seethe, knowing that another person dared to distract you from him.

"It's Shantaro!" you squeal excitedly. "I'm sorry, love, I'll be just a moment. I haven't seen her in ages!"

Mihawk doesn't even try to stop you as you make your way through the crowd at the lounge. His watchful gaze follows your steps as you approach a stringy woman in a silver dress. A hurricane of black curls sits on top of her head. Her piercing, grey eyes notice you, suddenly widening with both surprise and happiness. The two of you engulf each other in a bone-crushing hug, silently exchanging feelings of longing towards the closest friend from younger years.

The swordsman's night, however, is about to get even worse as he hears someone behind him whisper:

"She's a minx, that foxy wife of yours."

He turns around with his jaw and fists clenched. Mihawk's enraged gaze meets the face of an amused man who is casually sipping on his drink. There's a glint in the stranger's eyes that makes the swordsman's skin crawl - he wanted to get under Dracule's skin.

"Don't look so surprised," the stranger reprimands him. The man must have mistaken Mihawk's baffled expression at the bold words for genuine surprise that someone put two and two together. Truthfully, he couldn't care less whether people know that he's married. "Many pirates get hard fantasising about having their way with the Warlord's wife." Judging by the way the man licks his lips and hides a certain hunger behind his eyes, it's clear he's part of the aforementioned group. "But the Warlord himself? Unfortunately for him, she turns him soft," he drones the word as though it's a serious insult.

"Yes, she does," Mihawk answers slowly.

The events that followed happened exceptionally fast: Mihawk reached for the stranger's neck and slammed the man's head against the bar counter. Curiously, people happening to be in their vicinity carry on as though nothing bizarre is happening - they are smart enough not to get in Dracule Mihawk's way, especially when he is visibly upset.

Blood is gushing from the strange man's forehead, his eye already beginning to swell and change colour. The swordsman tilted his victim's head back just enough to lean down and growl. "Which is why I'm going to kill you much faster than you deserve for your offence."

Mihawk glances in your direction. You're still occupied, excitedly telling Shantaro about the years after you've last met her.

He'll be done before you notice him gone.

[sanjisleggy]

the warlord’s wife (dracule mihawk x reader)

req: Oh if you want to you should do a Mihawk x reader (fem or gn) that's hurt comfort where the reader is like the exact opposite of him. Like she is usually so happy and sweet and kind. And something happens and maybe she starts to worry that she is too much for Mihawk because he is just someone who is quiet and to himself all the time and she thinks she is constantly bothering him

a/n: ahhh my first attempt at writing for Mihawk! a much shorter fic compared to my others but i hope you guys like it nonetheless :3c i’d love to write longer fics for him if anyone has any ideas yippee

contents: rude people (lol), insecure!fem!reader, simp!Mihawk, a tiny bit of angst, some hurt/comfort, fluff :3c

wc. 1k

wanna be on my taglist?

—

i. 

standing outside the large ornate doors, you feel your face burn with embarrassment as you contemplate simply going to the docks to wait out by the hitsugibune until the gala ends. as tempting as escaping from the horrific social situation sounds right now, your pride refuses to let you bow your head in defeat.

”i don’t know how else to convince you,” you try to appeal to the two marines standing guard outside the venue entrance once more, “if you could just ask him to verify my identity—”

”i’m sorry, miss,” the larger man of the two cuts you off with a less than apologetic look. “there’s just no reason why we should do as you say. if we listened to every man or woman demanding to go in, we’d lose our heads.”

your indignance and frustration quickly bubbles into pure anger and for a brief moment you lament having left your katana back at the castle. you bite your tongue, unable to think of any other way to convince the marine officers that you are, indeed, a guest who’d been invited to the gala because you’re literally one of the Warlords’ wives.

“besides,” the other officer chips in unprompted, “no offence but you don’t seem like the type of woman someone like Dracule Mihawk would marry.” his partner fails to hold back a scoff but quickly attempts to return his expression back into one of neutral professionalism.

clenching your fists by your sides, you try your very hardest to keep your eyes from tearing up for the second time tonight. normally such a comment wouldn’t phase you—years of being Mihawk’s partner has done wonders for thickening your skin—right now, though, you can’t help but feel a familiar sharp stinging sensation pierce through your chest.

of all the snarky comments you marine dogs decide to make, why this one?

ii.

it had only been an hour into the gala and already you regretted begging your husband, just weeks prior, to consider attending with you as his guest. the event was a grand one held by the marines every year to “show their appreciation” towards their allies, which included the Seven Warlords; and every year the invite would show up at your doorstep only to be promptly thrown out by your introverted husband.

”can we please go? i miss going for social events like these.” you’d pleaded that night in bed, hugging his arm tightly as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck—a move he liked to call ‘playing dirty. “just this once to see what it’s like, then i’ll never ask again.”

both you and Mihawk knew it was a lie but the swordsman was nothing if not a simp for you so he begrudgingly agreed.

”care to elaborate why?” you challenge, taking the two marines aback if their surprised expressions are anything to go by. clearly not used to ‘civilians’ talking back to them, they take a moment to gather their thoughts—and at least have enough decency to look embarrassed at being called out.

”w-well—”

“your wife is such a chatterbox! it’s a wonder you’ve tolerated her for as long as you have!”

”your husband is whom? forgive me, i find that hard to believe.”

”i thought he was some kind of recluse?”

”maybe it was an arranged marriage. how scandalous.”

”i pity the poor man. all my husband does is talk and it drives me insane some days.”

”darling?” a deep familiar voice calls out from behind you, accompanied by the sound of heeled shoes clicking against stone. before you can turn around, you feel his warm hand rest itself on your shoulder, the comforting heat of his body engulfing you from behind. “i’ve been looking for you.”

the blood drains from both the marine officers’ faces, their eyes widening in shock as it dawns on them what a mistake they’ve just made. as though pleading for mercy, the eyes of the larger man flickers in your direction, almost screaming: “please, i’m too young to die.”

”were these men giving you trouble?” Mihawk probes gently, using his other hand to tilt your head in his direction. the moment his eyes meet your own and widen ever so slightly, you know there’s no point lying. as much as you’ve been able to hold back your tears of frustration well enough to fool the average man, your husband is anything but average.

mouths still agape, the marine officers can do nothing but watch as the notorious swordsman proceeds to cup your face with his right hand in a manner so tender they can’t help but suspect he’s an imposter. unbothered by the unbelieving stares sent his way, Mihawk brushes his thumb under your eye as though to confirm his suspicion.

”they were but it’s okay now,” you finally reply, placing your hand over his to hold it in place as you relish in the comforting warmth of his palm.

”what did you do to my wife?” he disregards your subtle plea for peacemaking. he knows you well enough to infer that you simply don’t want him to make a scene for the sake of maintaining his public image. 

Mihawk’s aware of how much you actually enjoy silently watching him defend your pride and honour; and he also knows from experience how happily you’ll reward him with your honeyed words and sweet touches later tonight, when it’s just the two of you alone together. it concerns him, slightly, if he were to be honest, how easily you have him wrapped around your finger—but that’s something to think about another day. 

the marines stutter and stammer but nothing coherent leaves their lips, all linguistic ability fading into nothing under the angered gaze of the Warlord.

”be thankful my beloved is as kind as she is,” the swordsman warns, all the while maintaining his hardened glare. “know that had she not vouched for you two, i’d have no problem killing you right where you stand.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots

[clare-875]

Love love love the New Names prompt! I loved Ace’s and Sabo’s!! Poor poor Ace.

I was wondering if you could do another part with: Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, and Penguin 👀👀👀

Have a lovely day/night! ✨🫶🏽

New Names pt.3 (Corazon, Killer, Mihawk, Penguin)

_____ Pairings: Corazon x Reader; Killer x Reader; Mihawk x Reader; Penguin x Reader Summary: His reaction when you call him pal, buddy, etc. Warnings: Mostly fluff, Female Reader A/N: I'm so glad you like the fics! This is my first time writing for these characters so I hope you enjoy! 💗 [One Piece Masterlist] [Part 1: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Law] [Part 2: Shanks, Sabo, Crocodile] [Part 4: Kid, Katakuri, Smoker] _____

Corazon

(A/N: Spoilers for Law's backstory)

A young Law looks to you from behind where he hid, unusual eagerness buried in his gaze. You and him had come up with a little prank to play on your boyfriend and despite being in the middle of a crisis, you would do anything to see Law's smile. When Corazon had left with Law to find a cure for his Amber Lead disease, you (being an undercover Marine yourself) had joined him. With time came the undeniable connection that was formed between the three of you.

You adored both of them with all your heart.

You were currently trying to hide the grin on your face as you looked up, anticipation thrumming as you watched your boyfriend finally approach from a distance. His painted face seemed to light up at the sight of you, and he moved faster to get to your side.

"Hello, love." His smile is wide as he approaches, but you watch as it fades to confusion in the absence of the boy usually by your side.

"Where's Law?"

You smile at his concern, but you continue with your little game.

"Don't worry buddy, he's just resting for now."

You expected a lot of things for his reaction, but what you didn't expect was the series of events that followed. One minute his face had been full of his usual adoration of you, the next came one of shock at your words, and the next moment his face was buried into the ground.

He had fallen.

You quickly approach in concern, rolling your boyfriend over so he is on his back. You kneel by him and look down at his face.

"Buddy, are you okay?"

You are surprised, however, that when you look down at your boyfriend's face, his eyes are clouded more with sadness than pain. There is a pout that lingers on his face.

"Love, why are you calling me that?"

You furrow your brows in mock confusion.

"What are you talking about, bud?"

Your boyfriend sits up quickly at your words, expression twisted in disarray.

"You-you're calling me buddy, but I'm- we're dating now. So, you should be calling me love."

He states it all so plainly to you, that you stare for a moment before losing yourself to your light laughter. This only causes the crease between your boyfriend's brows to deepen.

"Love?"

In that instant, you hear the rushing of footsteps, before Law jumps onto your boyfriend's back suddenly. He is smiling wide as he meets your gaze and amusement glistens in his eyes. Corazon yelps at the sudden weight on him.

"Surprise, you got pranked!"

Law grins in his mischief before running over to you and hiding behind your leg. Your boyfriend looks up in complete bewilderment as his eyes turn from you to Law, and back to you again. But then he spots the smile on Law's face and loses himself in a light-hearted chuckle; he tries to hold back his tears.

"...Not bad kid."

There is a pause before Corazon ruffles Law's head slightly and stands up to his feet. You smile softly at the interaction. You can see Law trying to play off the light blush on his cheeks at the gesture.

"Now you, love," your boyfriend says turning to you and taking your hand in his.

"I was expecting better."

You roll your eyes at his words but your smile does nothing to waver, and the three of you make your way back to camp.

That is until your boyfriend falls to the ground once more.

Killer

You fight the smile that wants to reach your face as you watch your boyfriend a small distance away talking to some members of crew. An idea had swarmed your mind and you were keen to see it take place. "What are you smirking about?" You hear the low growl of your Captain on your left as he looks at your expression with suspicion. A grin tugs wide at his words.

"Nothing you need to worry about Captain."

Kid grits his teeth as he seethes and walks away from your amused expression, but you pay him no mind; your attention is back on your boyfriend as he seems to conclude whatever conversation had taken place. You watch as his masked figure turns and spots you. You quickly put back on a neutral facade as Killer finally makes his way over, suspense bubbling within you.

"Hello, love."

His words to a stranger would sound surprisingly gentle, especially for a man named Killer. However, his kind nature is a given to you, and so you smile softly at your boyfriend, before giving way to your plan.

"Hey man, what were you up to?"

You watch as your boyfriend freezes momentarily. You grin discreetly, as you try to play nonchalant. Instantly, Killer's mind goes to concern.

"Okay love, what's wrong?"

His broad figure looms over where you are sitting and you don't have to remove his mask to know that his eyes are searching yours for answers. You keep up the act as you look at him in mock confusion.

"Nothing's wrong man, I've just been waiting for you."

He freezes again at your choice of words, and before he knows it his hand is under your chin.

"Princess, why do I feel like you're messing with me."

You feel warmth rise to your cheeks at his low words spoken softly to you. You try muttering an excuse, but it is for naught as Killer seems to put the dots together, and he has pulled you to your feet in an instant. You gasp as he swiftly drags you in the direction of your shared chambers, Kid still looking at the both of you in utter bewilderment.

"I'll show you who you're calling man, princess."

Mihawk

(A/N: Slightly suggestive at the end)

Your boyfriend is lounging on his chair, paging through the most recent newspaper copy that had been delivered. Your lips twitch upwards at the sight and you push open the door wider so you can get through. In your hands are two cups of steaming tea. Your boyfriend instantly perks up at your presence; he has sensed you lingering for some time now.

His sharp eyes soften slightly as he watches you get closer. "Hello love." You smile as you place his cup in front of him and put yours next to it. You would be lying to say you hadn't missed him. He had been so busy recently with whatever duties come with being the world's strongest swordsman and a warlord of the sea. But despite your sentiments, you wanted to go through with the little game you had formed in your head.

"Hi pal, anything interesting happened lately?"

You peer over his shoulder trying to look at the newspaper in his hands like nothing is wrong. But you would be stupid to think that your boyfriend did not notice the change in the name you usually called him.

"Love, what are you doing?"

Mihawk's eyes are sharp once more, buried perplexity masked in irritation. You simply play dumb and give him a look of confusion.

"Looking at the newspaper?"

At your words, your boyfriend places the paper in his hands on the table in front of him. One hand grabs yours as you look in bewilderment at his sudden movements.

"You called me pal."

His words are low as they are menacing and you hesitate, unable to meet his golden eyes.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

Your boyfriend has none of it though, as he pulls you closer to him so you're basically straddling him on his chair.

"You seem to have forgotten something. Something I thought I taught you not to forget."

You freeze as you try to hide your flustered face at the sudden proximity and the rumbling of his words.

"And that is?"

He pauses, before placing a hand on your face and inching closer to you.

"I am your partner, not some pal."

His breath is hot against your lips before he closes the space between you. You feel yourself flush and warmth fills you. His hands frame your face and you pull him impossibly closer. When you part, there is a shine in the gold of his irises that signifies whatever this is wasn't over.

You grin.

If this is what you get for calling him pal, maybe you should call him that more often.

Penguin

You and Shachi smirk at each other as a plan forms between you. "And then we watch him cry and piss his pants." Your smile widens as a laugh escapes you at the absurdity of his words. "You've lost your mind. He might not even react." You watch as your best friend rolls his eyes, more disbelieving of your words than you were of his. "Of course, he'll react, you're like the love of his life!" You fight the flush that wants to reach your face at his nonchalant words and shove him light heartedly. "Shut up!" He grins when he sees your flustered expression.

You had been close with Shachi and Penguin the instant you joined the Heart Pirates. You truly valued your friendship with Shachi and adored your boyfriend more than anything in the world. Your light-hearted banter continues for only a few moments until you spot your boyfriend making his way towards you. "Okay, actually shut up now. It's time!" You quickly shush Shachi and get up, as he gives you a lazy thumbs-up. Your boyfriend's expression instantly enlightens as you approach.

"Hey babe, I was looking all over for you." You can see his wide smile underneath his hat. When he approaches his expression doesn't fade. "I missed you." You hesitate only for a second before conceding to your plan.

"Missed you too dude, where were you?"

You answer him casually and like nothing was out of the norm. But to your boyfriend, he felt like the Earth had just stood still. You tilt your head, at your boyfriend's frozen expression, slowly waving your hand in front of him in concern.

"Um, dude?"

Unbeknownst to you, Penguin's mind is ablaze with flashbacks to a time well before you started dating, when you would call him friendly terms. He thought he would be stuck in the friendship zone for eternity, but when he confessed you had shocked him when you had returned his feelings too. He adored the pet names you called him in your relationship, but now with your words, it felt like he was back in hell.

"Dude are you-"

"Stop!"

His hands are flain out to you as he tries to stop the name from slipping past your lips again. You raise an eyebrow in false confusion. Shachi is now laughing his head off looking at what's taking place.

"Oi Shachi! This isn't a time for laughter! She's calling me dude again!"

You roll your eyes at the over-exaggeration of your boyfriend's words and actions, but it is Shachi and not you who accidentally lets slip of the prank you had played.

"Yeah, idiot. It's obviously a joke, can't you tell?"

"Shachi-!"

"Wait, it's a joke?"

You sigh as your boyfriend turns back to you with a more vulnerable expression on his face than you were expecting. "Yeah, I'm sorry babe." You reach out and grab his hand, as you watch him relax at the name you call him once more. "It was just a bit of fun?" He sighs deeply in a mixture of relief and exasperation. "Thank god, I thought you forgot we were dating or something." Your lips upturn more at the teasing grin on his face.

"Like I could forget that."

You step closer to him, and you see a familiar flush reach your boyfriend's face. His heart thrums in anticipation at your sudden proximity. "Yeah?" He murmurs to you, and you inch closer, almost closing the space between you two when-

"Okay! Enough of the mushiness! Not when I'm here!"

You hear Shachi's voice break the trance between you both, and you instantly see your boyfriend's face darken. He turns swiftly from your side.

"Hey, we were having a moment moron!"

Penguin makes his way from you to Shachi, a multitude of curses leaving his lips.

"Too bad!"

"Get back here idiot!"

You smile softly despite yourself. They were a handful, but there was never a quiet moment with the two of them; you couldn't give them up for anything in the world.

[ryiju-muunie]

Your boyfriend liked to torture orgasms out of you. One by one, dripping from your shaking body as he held the vibrator to your aching clit. You were swollen and shuddering, crying out with each pass of pleasure.

It was always too much, as he’d coo, “Oh cmon baby.. one more.. just for me.. okay?” But every time, another one loomed over your head.

“A-ah~ p.. p..pl-please o-.. oh.. oh fu-fuck..” you would keen, throwing your head back and spreading your legs, anything to get the pleasure to stop.. or maybe even continue.

[thebunnednun]

Gonna write a fic, here's what I have so far-

‘I want to fucking die right now.’

That is the thought going through your head right now. You would rather face death, full on, than go through with the despicable act being done to you. 

Being fitted into your wedding dress. 

The women surrounding you are either smiling or mourning, no inbetween. A brave face because this is the suffering all women must go through or crying because your only crime was that of being a girl upon your birth. 

Constant whispers and catters of concerns. They are your maids, guards, washer women, women of your villages, cousins, aunts, grandmothers, mothers. 

They all know you, they all raised you. 

And they couldn’t save you. 

Some are girls too young to understand. Playing with flower petals and tugging at their ceremonial garbs. So little, they can barely form words of your home language, so sweet and natural to you like grass blowing in the wind or the sound of your home village. 

Some are your age or younger and look zombified at the horror happening to you. Holding countless fabrics, makeups, powders, paints, beads, all for you. This is strategic. They’re being warned with a living example of what could happen to them. 

Some are older and trying to instill some last minute advice into you.

Words that are meant to comfort that never reach your ears.

You aren't in your body right now.

You left your body the moment your parents were captured and your uncle handed you over to that man who promised to get them back. 

You stand before a grand mirror and you see nothing.

Nothing at all. 

I won't tell you who the character is yet but it will be a fantasy setting.

You are a princess. There's gonna be magic/sword fighting and shit.

Lemme know your thoughts and if you wanna be tagged in the final product.

[everlastingauthor]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. When You Wear Their Clothes

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Author's Note: Please do not re-upload my work or feed it to ai, if you wish to translate my work and upload please get my permission first and credit me that's all I ask for, please remember to stay hydrated, take your vitamins and medicine, and remember you are loved.

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Tags: Romance, Fluff, Gender Neutral Reader, & One Piece

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Characters: Mihawk, Crocodile, Shanks, Smoker, Buggy, & Robin

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Request Open: ☑ Yes | No

๋ ࣭ ⭑ Want More One Piece Fics: Click Here

⤷ Dracule Mihawk

He thinks that you look adorable in his hat and coat, especially when the coat is open and you aren't wearing anything underneath. He chuckled upon finding you in his coat and hat. " What are you doing my dear? " He asked while leaning against the doorway. " I'm trying to be the greatest swordsman. How do you fight in this coat? It's heavy. " You said while turning around in it. Mihawk chuckled pushing off the doorway and stalked towards you. He used one hand to cup your face and made you look at him, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your cheek. " It's quite easy, especially since the coat isn't heavy to me. " Mihawk said, leaning down as he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. " At least it's not as bad as Sir Crocodile's coat, right my love? " His amber eyes pour into your (e/c) as you chuckled softly, nodding your head and agreeing with him that Crocodile's coat seems a lot worse than Mihawk's coat. But the two of you would never say to his face since you two didn't want Crocodile berating you both for his fashion choice.

⤷ Sir Crocodile

He couldn't blame you for wearing his coat, you weren't used to cold places. But with Crocodile having to relocate, he has to give you his coat once in a while. He won't admit it, but he likes how you wear his coat. " Tch, you look like a fur ball... " He told you while he smoked his cigar and had his coffee. You were curled up on the couch balled up a bit in his coat while reading. " Would you still love me if I was a fur ball? " You asked him without looking up from your book. Crocodile rolled his eyes at your idiotic silly question, but he was used to it. " I would, but I prefer you not to be a fur ball. " He rolled his eyes and took a couple of sips of his coffee. Crocodile would rather see you warm than a cold, shivering mess; he was actually glad that you asked for his coat. You could always reach for a blanket or grab your own coat or a sweatshirt, but no, you would always come to him, and secretly, that made him smile whenever you bounced away with his coat, and whenever he got it back, it smelled like you so bouns.

⤷ Shanks

This man goes wild seeing you in his shirt whenever you walk around your guy's shared cabin. He sits there with a goofy grin plastered on his face. " What? " You looked at him as you were trying to crochet another blanket for you and Shanks's bed. " What? Can't I admire my beautiful partner? Even when they look quite sexy in my shirt. " Shanks leaned up, kissing your neck, which sent a shiver down your spine. " Shanks, I'm trying to crochet here. " You told him. Your cheeks were warm as you tried not to giggle and give into the sexual tension that Shanks was trying to build up. He loved how his shirt made you look fetching and that it was his own personal bedroom attire on you. Forgot lingerie, if you wore one of his shirts in the bedroom, he would whistle and ravish you. Shanks continued to kiss your neck and shoulder while caressing your inner thighs; you couldn't ignore it, especially since you wanted him to kiss other places. " Alright, ravish me, redhead. " You looked at him and smirked.

⤷ Smoker

He saw you wearing his coat when he came home, he stepped into the kitchen as you were cooking dinner. " Why are you wearing my coat (y/n)? " He asked while opening the fridge to grab him something to eat. " I missed you and wanted a hug, but you weren't here so this was the next best option. " You replied while frying the meat in the pan. This response made Smoker's face heat up as he sipped on his drink. " Go wash up for dinner, I'm making chicken katsu and rice balls with cabbage. " You turned around and smiled at him. That damn smile always melted his heart; it's the reason whenever he was faced with a battle he would try his hardest to beat his opponent so that he could come home to you. " And dessert? " He asked; he wanted to stay in the kitchen a bit longer watching you cook and wear his coat. " Blueberry pie. " You told. Smoker noticed the coat was buttoned all the way up. " (Y/N) You got clothes underneath my uh coat,, right? " He asked. You turned around and smirked. " Go wash up, and after dinner, I'll give you a welcome home gift. " You chuckled, hearing Smoker leave the kitchen quickly.

⤷ Buggy

“ I'm sorry (Y/N)! " Buggy apologized over and over again while you were in the bathroom. Buggy planned on throwing cream pies at Mihawk and Crocodile to teach them a lesson for beating on him. But you were accidentally nailed in the face and chest with the cream pies when bringing your bombastic boyfriend lunch. " It's okay Buggy. " You said stepping out of the bathroom as you were drying your face. Buggy's jaw hung down as he saw you in his shirt. " Wow, I should throw cream pies at you more often to get you in my clothes. You look like an absolute super model! " Buggy giggled with delight as he hugged you. " And you used my blue cotton candy body wash. " Buggy said, burying his face into the crook of your neck. " I did it smells nice. " You ran your fingers through Buggy's hair. " And my shirt looks better on you then me. " Buggy said, bold of him to say since Buggy believed he always looked better than anyone else. " Thank you Buggy. " You kissed him on the nose, as Buggy was giddy with joy.

⤷ Robin

You told your girlfriend Robin that you wanted to look cool today, a total badass since you two would be going into town to do some shopping with Sanji and Chopper. She chuckled softly and let you wear her black leather jacket, which was amazing since it would match the black leather pants you bought last week; Robin held your hands when you two walked through the town. She thought you looked adorable in her jacket. " My my (Y/N), don't you look adorable in my jacket? " She chuckled softly and kissed your hand. You pouted and blushed. " No, I'm supposed to look badass. I should probably get some sunglasses like black shades. " You sighed. " You can still be adorable and look badass. " Robin chuckled as she walked with you. You smiled because she was right, I mean Chopper was adorable but also a badass whenever he was angry or in battle. " You are right Robin. " You kissed her hand and continued to walk as Robin smiled.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. One Piece Taglist: [Comment To Be Added]

[blushingamethyst]

I like my men pathetic, and he’s not nearly pathetic enough…

I can fix that 💜

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Now that I've had a smoke and touched grass...

Feels like this took forever to finish even though it halfway wrote itself. Didn't wanna make you guys wait too long because that cliffhanger was cruel even for me honestly.

I know where this is ending, but I'm not sure how many chapters it's going to take to get there. I'm estimating two to four more chapters, not counting a silly epilogue and a follow-up oneshot.

Anyway, here, have some shameless smut

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 10 of more than I planned don't ask

Wordcount: 3,970

First chapter and Previous chapter link

Brief summary of The Story So Far: Your mission, as a Marine and Zoan type devil fruit user (gray parrot), is to gather intel on Dracule Mihawk, a pirate on the Grand Line who has become a thorn in the Marines' side over a relatively short period of time. He has been allotted forty-eight hours to make his decision on the offer of becoming a Warlord, and you can do little but imagine what that means for you

Warnings n stuff: Very NSFW. Very yandere.

Taglist: @i-am-vita @nerium-lil @browneyedhufflepuff @madbadpadawan @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @littleleelee @dragon-bubs @animefreak818 @byysandra @lufemia @gizamalblythe @schanwow

Once again, you guys are amazing and I love you so much

A soft moan left your lips as he pulled his fingertips slowly down your neck, his command hanging heavily in the air around you.

“Do you understand?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you stammered out in a trembling whisper.

“Good.” Mihawk curled his hand under your chin, tilting your head back, and brushed his lips to your exposed throat as he pushed his hand back into your hair, curling his fingers into the tresses to hold your head in place. “Good girl.”

You drew in a sharp gasp as he slowly pushed a finger into you, barely registering his pur of approval against the column of your throat as you tightened around the digit, arching your hips up toward his hand. He pulled in a sharp breath himself, tracing his lips across your collarbone, pulling his hand back down to your neck.

“I should consider myself lucky to have such an obedient little pet.” You bit your lip as he curled his finger within you, rubbing slowly against the center of that agonizing pressure and sending a strong, pleasurable throb through your clit as the bundle of aching nerves begged for his attention. “You seem close already. Are you?”

“Y—yes, sir,” you whimpered, gripping hard onto a fistful of his hair as his lips reached the swell of your breast. You fought to keep your breathing steady as you lifted your head, watching his slow descent.

“Oh…” You gasped as he grazed his lips across the stiff point of your nipple, lying your head back in a breathy moan when he sucked the sensitive protrusion into his mouth for far too brief a moment. “Oh, how unfortunate.”

You cautiously glanced down when he pulled his hand from beneath your panties, your heart throbbing, wondering if you had done something wrong.

“I had hoped to play with you a bit longer.” He wrapped a hand around your wrist, his grip firm, and pulled your hand away from his shoulder, shifting back up so his eyes were level with your own again. “But you might need to distract yourself first.”

You swallowed, glancing at his hand as he guided your own on a slow, almost torturous path don the deep lines of his abdominal muscles, before your gaze snapped right back up to his.

“I hope you don’t think I’m only depriving you for my own entertainment.” You were certain he was—or at least that it was a very great part of it. He left your hand to rest at the waist of his pants, just above the buckle of his belt, and pushed his arm between the two of you to take your other hand from his hair. “The longer you remain at the edge of abandon, the greater the prize will be.” You exhaled a shuddering breath as he brushed his lips across your knuckles, before he pulled it down to level it with his other. “And I intend to take very good care of my pet.”

You detected no lie in his gaze. There was still that glint of amusement, but there was something else burning there as you cautiously unhooked his belt with trembling fingers. He didn’t have to spell out what he expected of you, for you to focus on him until you had calmed down enough to continue—and, nervous though you were, you were in no way reluctant. You could feel the heat of his stiff erection through his pants as you pulled the button loose, keeping your eyes glued to his, watching the desire that quickly consumed his gaze as he helped you push them down his lean hips.

There was some degree of surprise there as well, as if he had expected you to be far more reluctant to relent to his instruction. Your hands trembled, trailing your fingertips back up his hips as he kicked the pants away, your breathing quick and uneven; watching how he closed his eyes with a slow sigh as you brushed your fingers lightly up the thick shaft, feeling it jump and twitch under your light touch—how he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth when you brushed your other hand over the sensitive head, swore under his breath when you wrapped your fingers around it to drag the slick precum down his length.

As much as you ached for your own release, there was something even more exciting in watching his resolve melt away at your touch. You kept your gaze level with his face, stroking his rock hard erection slowly with both hands, waiting for him to open his eyes again. The subtle hitch in his breath when your gazes locked again was enough to spur you on, to strengthen your resolve a bit more. You bit your bottom lip lightly, deliberating for a moment, before speaking quietly.

“Should...should I use my mouth? I don’t—I don’t really kn—”

His breath caught again at your nervous murmur, far less subtly this time, and he cut you off by brushing his lips briefly to yours. You tightened your grip as he pushed his hips toward you, parting from the brief kiss with a low groan and throbbing hard in your hands. You felt his hand wrap tight around one of your wrists a moment later, stopping the torturous motion of your hands, and you watched the apple of his throat bob as he swallowed.

“Yes.” His breath was hot against your lips before he dipped his head back down and locked his lips to yours in a deeper, lingering kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth to tangle with yours for a moment longer, his fingers gripping your hair to hold your head in place. He regained enough composure to chuckle softly as his lips parted from yours, but the sound of it was a bit breathless as he combed his fingers through your hair. “You’re quite the quick learner, pet.

You were slightly taken aback at how quickly he pulled himself up to his knees, unabashed at his own brief loss of composure. He shifted his hands to your shoulder and your hip, guiding you to shift onto your knees in front of him, eyes half-lidded and rapturous, his breathing rapid and shallow as he pushed a hand into your hair and guided your descent.

But...something stopped you.

It wasn’t your nervousness this time—you were a bit too far gone for that, too wrapped up in pleasure and anticipation for that to stop you.

It was something else. Something about the way he had spent all this time teasing and taunting you.

That made you inclined to do just the same.

His low growl of protest when you turned your head slightly to brush your lips to his muscular abdomen instead was like music to your ears. You felt his cock throb against your cheek as he gripped hard at your hair.

You turned your head and brushed you lips low a the base of his thick arousal, reveling in his low moan as he leaned back against the wall of the daybed alcove behind him and loosened his grip to comb his fingers through your hair.

“...infuriating little thing…” he grumbled amid a slow sigh as you grazed your lips slowly up the stiff length, tracing the veins along its surface, staring up to watch his expression, watch how he gritted his teeth and tensed his shoulders. He drew in a sharp breath when you slowly dragged the tip of your tongue over the smooth, bulbous head, flicking your tongue teasingly as you lifted your eyes again and met his gaze, wrapping your hand around the base of his thick shaft.

“I only wanted to show my appreciation, master,” you said innocently.

You saw the flicker in his eyes this time when you addressed him so subserviently, the lust that it breathed to life in him, and you were briefly overwhelmed with the knowledge that you were in control—if only for a moment, you were in control, and it sent a thrill through you that you hadn’t expected or ever experienced before through every inch of your body. He sighed again and laid his head back as you stroked your hand slowly up, back down, rubbing your palm over the head with each pass. You kept your gaze on his expression, still staring up at him in some mix of lingering nervousness and curiosity, and decided to test the waters, to see just how far you could push your newfound control, speaking in a quiet murmur.

“Would...it please my master if I sucked on it?”

You swallowed, biting your lip anxiously at the sound of his strained chuckle, barely able to see his smirk with his head tilted back against the wall behind him. “Then you do mean to see me lose composure.” He moved his hand to the nape of our neck, gathering your hair there to pull it away from your face. “I’ll allow it for now.” he stretched his arm out over one of the horizontal dividers along the window, and lifted your head enough to lock his eyes with yours. “Provided you do a good enough job.”

You hoped that wouldn’t be an issue—were fairly sure it wouldn’t be, with his fingers curled in your hair, already guiding you down again slowly. You kept your eyes on his, enjoying the newfound thrill you found in the sight of his faltering confidence as you wrapped your lips around the head and circled your tongue slowly around it; in the sharp breath of air he drew in through gritted teeth when you gave it a hard, brief suck, his grip tightening around your hair.

You heard him sigh as he guided you further down his length, and glanced up to see him rest his head back against the wall again, his eyes slipping shut, letting himself become lost in pure bliss.

There was no doubt he would be angry if you finished him like this—he had already told you he wasn’t done with you. You kept your pace steady, slowing down or releasing him whenever you felt him tense or needed to take a breath, when you felt him tug at your hair or tighten your grip painfully wherever his hand happened to be resting on your body, resuming the sensual torment only when he relaxed again. You were sure you would be covered with bruises bty morning from your waist to your rear, black and purple abrasions in the shape of his strong hands.

When you were sure he was composed, that you were at no risk of pushing him over the edge, you decided to try descending further—slowly, tensing your throat swallow the thick shaft down nearly to its base. He drew in a sharp breath through his teeth as you gagged, releasing it in a low, started groan as you felt his engorged cock throb hard between your lips, against the walls of your throat. His fingers dug into your hip nearly hard enough to break skin, and he jerked you up so hard by your hair that it drew a breathless cry of pain and alarm from you before his lips were crushed against yours to muffle it.

Your tension eased away amid the harsh, hungry kiss, and he pulled you forward to wrap your thighs around him with his hand resting against the small of your back. It slipped back to your hip as he withdrew his lips, pulling you down—until you gasped at the feeling of him pressing against your entrance. He pulled his hand down through your hair, leaving it resting against your jaw, watching you with hunger burning in his eyes as your own fluttered shut and you turned your cheek into the warmth of his palm, letting out a slow sigh against your parted lips.

“You’ll still tell me when you’re close.”

He punctuated the murmured command by brushing his lips to yours, almost gingerly. You lifted your hand to rest it against his, nodding shortly. You felt the pad of his thumb brush your bottom lip, still slick and slightly swollen, and reveled in the hitch in his breath and the throb of his cock between your thighs when you took the digit into your mouth and swirled your tongue around it briefly. He regained himself quickly as he spread your own saliva across your lips, and you opened your eyes at his light chuckling to find his yellow eyes alight with amusement, his gaze fixed on you.

“Such a deviant creature.” He pushed his thumb under your chin and pulled you forward by your jaw, so close you could feel the vibration of his murmur against your lips. “Do you take so much pleasure in trying to make me lose control?”

You your lip lightly at his smirk, but the way his gaze held yours made it impossible for you to avert your eyes away. He didn’t sound upset with you, didn’t look it—but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

“Don’t lie,” he said teasingly. You swallowed...and gave a short nod—you had enjoyed seeing him lose his composure, however briefly. He laughed quietly again, and turned your head to brush his lips to your neck. “Naughty little thing.” You gasped as he pulled you down at your hip, only enough for you to feel the very tip of his erection beginning to stretch you open, wincing at the pressure. You knew it was going to be painful to take the full length and thickness of his cock—but you wanted it so badly now that it was difficult to care. “I ought to punish you for being so willful.”

In your frenzied desperation to feel more of him inside you, the threat sent a confusing wave of excitement through you that pulled a deep moan from your chest. He purred quietly against your neck, pulling his hand down to brush across your breasts, flicking his thumb across one of your sensitive nipples.

“I’m not sure I should let you come at all.”

But he pulled you down a little more, grunting as the sensitive head pushed into your tight entrance, and you whimpered as you contracted pleasurably around it—if he kept going this slowly then maybe it would hardly hurt at all.

“If I should even give you the pleasure of fucking you.” A little further, perhaps an inch, his slow, shaking sigh as he held himself back burning your neck like fire. “Or if I should just pull you off of me right now and take you back down to the dungeon.”

“N—no—” You gasped as he pushed his hips up, his fingers digging into your hip, holding you in place to push slowly into your body. “P—p-please don’t—master—” You shook your head quickly, swallowing as his lips trailed across your collarbone. “I-I’ll be good, I promise,” you breathed, lowering your gaze to watch him push your breast up, watch his mouth nearing the swell of the soft mound of flesh. “P...please…”

He purred quietly again, letting it drift into a few chuckles. “Oh, perhaps since you asked so sweetly,” he murmured. His lifted his eyes to yours briefly and added, “Soon, dear.”

You nodded quickly, so distracted by his mouth that you couldn’t have anticipated what else might be coming—he suddenly wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking at it hard, and your surprised moan rose into a cry of pain and alarm as he pulled you roughly down by your hip, thrusting his forward to meet yours, burying himself inside you. His low groan was muffled as he relinquished only a little, briefly pressing his forehead against your collarbone, grounding himself before taking the sensitive protrusion back into his mouth.

You hooked your arm around his neck, gripping at his shoulder with your other hand, your thighs shaking around his. His skilled tongue dancing across your nipple, the euphoric shockwaves coursing through you, mingling together with the pain and deep pressure of feeling him fully inside you, stretching you wider with each deep thrust….

It was all far too much.

You would definitely come soon if he didn’t relent, and he showed no sign of doing so as he shifted his attention toward your other breast, grazing his lips across your sternum and brushing a light, wet kiss to the stiffened nub at its peak that made you cry out.

“You’re awfully sensitive,” he breathed, tugging at your hip to guide your motion, to pull you repeatedly down onto him, ensuring your swollen clit ground down against the hard plane of his pelvis each time he rolled his up to meet you. He was trying to make you cum, trying to force you to defy him—to make you lose control, as you had so enjoyed doing to him. “You can’t be so close again already.”

You could only nod, unable to form any words between the quiet whimpers and brief, sharp moans that left your lips in time with each thrust.

“No wonder your so damned tight,” he growled out through gritted teeth. You gasped as he lifted his hand to grasp at your jaw and pull you into a deep, crushing kiss. He groaned into your mouth, and you met his tongue with your own in an answering moan when it delved between your lips. He broke away, only to trail his lips across your jaw.

“Ah—I—” You cried out as he lowered his head to brush his lips across your nipple again, flicking his tongue over it lightly, tightening around his cock as the pressure threatened to burst into the waves of euphoria you so desperately craved. “I’m c—c-close, ma—mas—”

“Are you really?” he teased. You tensed your thighs, fighting against it when he didn’t relent in the slightest—digging your fingertips into his shoulder when he only sped up, letting out a breathless chuckle in his amusement. “Surely you’re bluffing.”

“I—n-no, sir—I-I swear—”

He pulled his hand down the place of your stomach, and you let out a breathless cry at the pleasure of his fingertips pressing down against your overstimulated clit, as the small bud twitched and jumped beneath his firm touch. From his purr of approval he must have felt the involuntary response beneath the pads of his fingers.

“I suppose you aren’t,” he murmured in your ear, and you could all but hear him smirking. “I do still owe you a reward for how adeptly you used your lovely mouth.” He brushed a delicate, tender kiss to the corner of your lips, and lowered his voice even further. “Then you may ride me until you finish.”

You sighed shakily as he slowed his quick, hard thrusting, loosing his grip on your hip and letting you take control. His breath left him in a slow sigh as he curled his arm around your back, lifted his hand to brush your hair out of your eyes and back behind your ear. You rolled your hips slowly, hooking your other arm around his neck as you fought to catch your breath, savoring how he throbbed and twitched against your tightening walls, how the round head rubbed so pleasurably against the center of arousal within you.

“That’s it,” he sighed, and brushed his lips to your neck as you moaned softly, lying your head back. “Nice and slow. No need to rush.” You deepened the soft kiss he pressed to your lips, dragging your fingertips down the hard plane of his chest, his murmur a warm vibration against your swollen lips. “Enjoy yourself as long as you wish, pretty girl.”

Now that he was finished tormenting you for your audacity at breaking his composure, his sole focused seemed to shift to dragging out your pleasure for as long as possible, letting you use him to your heart’s content.

And drag it out you did—you had no idea how much time passed, only that your body was growing weak from both immeasurable ecstasy and overuse, that your breathing was growing more labored by the minute, that there was a subtle flush staining even his high cheekbones as his breath shuddered out from between his lips. You lifted your hand, stroking your fingertips lightly across the flushed skin as he trailed his lips up your jaw.

He was close to the edge as well—you noticed it abruptly, from the lust flooding his gaze to the rock hard rigidness of his cock, throbbing and jerking within you with nearly every unbearably slow stroke. He was fighting the compulsion of his own release only to ensure your own pleasure at this point.

“C...close now,” you forced out on a trembling sigh—and added quickly, “s—sir.”

He gave a quiet growl against your jaw, his lips still ghosting over your skin there. “I should think so,” he murmured. “I have been depriving you for the better part of the past hour.”

You cried out as he pulled you down hard, thrusting his hips up to slam into you with an answering groan, immediately increasing his pace again—and you did as well as he pushed his hand between your bodies, rubbing his fingers against your clit, leaving you trembling all over at the swelling pressure beneath his touch, swelling until it was ready to burst.

“Now,” he breathed, wrapping his arm tight around you to grip your ass and hold you in place as he thrust into you, harder and harder, grunting and pressing his lips to the crook of your neck. “Come for me now. Let me feel it.”

“I-I—mmph—” You gasped as he bit down on the tender skin, groaning himself as he sped up even more, every deep thrust threatening to shove you straight over the edge. You felt your clit tightening, your thighs trembling as you drew closer, closer, unbearably close, your own voice far away and unfamiliar in its heightened pitch. “I—m-master—I’m—”

You barely heard his deep groan under your own sharp, unrestrained cry as the ecstasy of your release flooded through you—barely felt the pain of his hand digging into your hip as he thrust into you one final time and filled you with his own intense orgasm, pulling you slowly onto him to ride the waves of shared euphoria, his low, shaking moans vibrating in the crook of your neck. Your thighs continued their trembling even as the rest of your body slowly relaxed, as you rolled your hips to match his slow, deep strokes, your moans dissolving into breathless whimpering.

You lifted a shaking hand into his hair as he brushed a kiss into the crook of your neck, against your shoulder, your jaw, lifting his own hand to the nape of your neck to pull your lips to his for a slow, deep, sensual kiss. His eyes remained closed when his lips drifted away, his breathing nearly as labored as yours. He pushed his hand further into your hair, and the sensation of his fingertips brushing across your scalp drew goosebumps all over your body, sent a small shiver down your spine.

“You’ll join me in my chambers tonight.” Your breath caught when he opened his eyes, leaving them half-lidded as he kept your gazes locked, his forehead pressed lightly against yours. “I want my darling pet warming my bed, not chained and hidden away in the dungeon. You’ll behave, won’t you?” He lifted a hand to your cheek as you nodded quickly in agreement, brushed his thumb lightly across your bottom lip, his own lips twitching into a ghost of a smirk as he rubbed his hand slowly along the soft curve of your hip. “Good girl.”

[inseobts]

Hello there, dear! I hope you're having a good day!

I absolutely love your "Accidental PDA" scenarios. Could I please request a part 2? Maybe with Shanks, Mihawk, and Crocodile?

I love those silly men~♡

(Accidental) PDA

characters: shanks, usopp, mihawk, crocodile, sabo

a/n: I tried to make them longer and added usopp and sabo, hope you don’t mind

words count: around 0.5k - 0.8k each

(zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid)

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

── .✦ Shanks:

The tavern is loud, filled with the usual rowdiness of the Red-Haired Pirates, and you’re just trying to enjoy your drink in peace. Shanks, however, has other plans.

Without thinking, he throws an arm around your shoulders, tugging you in closer as he laughs at something Benn said. It’s casual, effortless, like it’s second nature to him. You stiffen for a second, heat creeping up your neck, but Shanks doesn’t even seem to notice. Or if he does, he doesn’t care.

The crew does, though.

Lucky Roo is grinning into his plate, Yasopp gives a low whistle, and someone in the back yells, “Oi, Captain, didn’t know you were the handsy type!”

The teasing sets off a chain reaction. More whistles, some exaggerated winks, and a few dramatic “Get a room!” comments. Shanks finally glances around, noticing the way everyone is looking at you, at him, at the way his arm is still draped over you like you belong there.

And then, the bastard smirks.

“Jealous?” he asks, completely unfazed.

You, on the other hand, feel like sinking into the floor. You push at his chest, but he doesn’t budge, only chuckles as if this is the funniest thing in the world.

“You could let go…” you mutter, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Could,” he agrees, but his arm stays right where it is, fingers lazily tracing patterns on your shoulder “But I like this better.”

The crew erupts into laughter again, and you just know they’re never letting this go.

You groan, sinking deeper into Shanks’ side as the crew erupts into even more laughter and teasing. His arm is still draped lazily over your shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on your sleeve like he has all the time in the world.

“Captain, you should at least buy ’em dinner first!” someone calls out, setting off another round of whistles.

Shanks just grins “Dinner? Please, I treat ’em well every day.”

You swat at his chest, finally pushing him off you, only for him to dramatically clutch his heart like you just mortally wounded him “Ow, sweetheart, that hurt.”

“Not as much as this embarrassment,” you mutter, crossing your arms “Do you have to be like this?”

He hums, tilting his head as if considering “Hmm… yeah, I think I do.”

The crew howls at that, and Yasopp slaps the table “Damn, you’re really done for, huh, Captain?”

Shanks just leans in again, closer this time, and you can feel his warmth even though he’s not touching you anymore. His voice drops, low and teasing “I mean… you don’t seem to mind that much.”

You open your mouth to protest but what can you even say? That your face isn’t burning? That your heart isn’t racing just a little? Because that would be a lie, and everyone here would see straight through it.

So instead, you huff and grab your drink, taking a long sip to avoid answering.

Unfortunately, Shanks notices.

He chuckles, resting his chin in his palm as he watches you, utterly amused “Oh yeah,” he murmurs “You’re definitely cute when you’re flustered.”

The entire crew loses it.

── .✦ Usopp:

The two of you sit together on the deck of the Sunny, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. The ship rocks gently on the waves as you both watch Luffy, Chopper, and Franky attempt to launch themselves out of a makeshift slingshot (which is absolutely going to end in disaster).

Usopp is so focused on their antics that, without thinking, he reaches out and takes your hand.

Not in a grand romantic way. Not with any intention at all. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Your fingers are warm, your grip instinctively curling around his. And for a few blissful minutes, he doesn’t even notice what he’s done.

Then, of course, someone has to ruin it.

Zoro snorts from where he lounges with his sword resting against his shoulder “Oi, Usopp, holding hands now? When’s the wedding?”

Usopp nearly throws your hand away like it’s on fire. His face goes red so fast it could put a cherry to shame.

He waves his hands frantically “W-WHAT?! I—HOLDING HANDS? WHO? ME? NO WAY!”

Zoro looks unimpressed “You literally just were.”

Luffy grins wide “Ohhh! Are you guys dating? Why didn’t you tell us?!”

Usopp flails, looking at you for help, only to find you laughing.

You’re not embarrassed. You’re not panicking. You’re just sitting there, watching him combust, an amused glint in your eyes.

Oh, this is bad.

Sanji smirks as he lights a cigarette “My, my, Usopp. Didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Usopp’s hands are everywhere, gesturing wildly as he tries to dig himself out of this nightmare “I—I wasn’t—I mean, I was, but I wasn’t—”

Robin chuckles behind her book “Don’t worry. It was cute.”

Usopp makes a strangled noise that is somewhere between a squawk and a plea to be thrown into the ocean. His heart is about to explode. He can’t even look at you now.

And then you—still so infuriatingly calm—just shrug and say “Well, I don’t mind.”

Usopp forgets how to breathe.

Chopper gasps “So you are dating?!”

Usopp immediately short-circuits “THAT’S NOT WHAT THEY MEANT—WAIT, WHAT DID YOU MEAN?!”

You just laugh again, standing up and stretching like this is the most casual thing in the world “I’ll let you figure that out.”

Then you walk away, leaving a completely fried Usopp sitting there, hands in his hair, while the rest of the crew loses their minds.

Luffy grins “I think you just got confessed to.”

Usopp screams.

He stares after you, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Sanji exhales a puff of smoke, looking far too entertained “Well? You gonna sit there like an idiot or go after them?”

Usopp smacks his hands against his face “G-go after them? WHAT FOR?!”

Luffy tilts his head “Because they just confessed?”

“THEY DID NOT CONFESS!” Usopp shrieks, pointing wildly in the direction you disappeared. “THAT WAS VAGUE! THAT COULD MEAN ANYTHING!”

Franky crosses his arms “Could mean they like you.”

Chopper nods “Or that they wouldn’t mind if you liked them.”

Robin smiles behind her book “Or that they’re waiting for you to make the next move.”

Usopp is malfunctioning. His brain is overheating. This is worse than any battle, worse than any enemy encounter—this is romantic ambiguity, and it is killing him.

Zoro sighs, clearly losing patience “Look, either go ask them what they meant or sit here and keep yelling about it. Either way, shut up.”

Usopp grabs his head “This is too much. This is a nightmare. I need—I need time to process—”

Nami rolls her eyes “If you take too long, they might think you don’t care.”

Usopp bolts upright.

He cares. Oh, he cares. The thought of you thinking otherwise makes his stomach twist into knots.

He groans dramatically “UGH—FINE! I’LL GO!”

The crew cheers. He glares at them “If I die of embarrassment, I’m haunting you all.”

Luffy beams “Can ghosts hold hands?”

Usopp sprints before he can get sucked into another round of teasing.

── .✦ Mihawk:

The castle is quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery against fine china. You, Mihawk, and Perona are seated at the grand dining table, enjoying, or rather, trying to enjoy, dinner.

Everything is peaceful until your fork slips, clattering against your plate before tumbling off the table’s edge. Without thinking, Mihawk moves.

In one smooth motion, he catches the utensil mid-air, his fingers brushing against yours as he hands it back. It’s nothing, barely even a touch, but the air shifts immediately.

Perona, halfway through taking a bite, freezes.

Her wide eyes flick between you and Mihawk, and a slow, knowing smirk spreads across her face “Oh?” she sings, resting her chin in her hands “That was… interesting.”

You blink, confused “What?”

She grins “Didn’t know Hawky was the touchy type.”

Mihawk sighs, unimpressed “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Perona isn’t letting this go “Ohhh, don’t try to act all cool—I saw that.” She points her fork at him accusingly “You totally just pulled a ‘casually affectionate, but I won’t admit it’ move.”

You scoff, shaking your head “It was just a fork—”

“It was not just a fork!” Perona interrupts dramatically “He caught it! He touched your hand! He lingered!”

Mihawk pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting every life decision that led to this moment “This is absurd.”

Perona leans in with a wicked grin “Admit it. You like them.”

Mihawk finally meets your gaze, and for just a second, so brief you might have imagined it, you see something flicker in his eyes. Something unreadable. Something dangerous.

Then, as if nothing happened, he looks away “You’re being insufferable” he mutters to Perona, taking a slow sip of his wine.

She cackles, delighted “And you’re avoiding the question!”

You, caught between amusement and second-hand embarrassment, shake your head “Alright, that’s enough. Can we just eat in peace?”

Mihawk exhales through his nose, giving you the faintest nod. But as you pick up your fork again, you feel his gaze lingering just a second too long.

And this time, you are the one avoiding eye contact.

Perona is still grinning, twirling her fork between her fingers as she watches you both like a cat who just found the perfect toy to play with “You’re blushingggg” she sing-songs.

You nearly choke on your drink “I am not.”

She gasps dramatically “Oh my God, you so are! This is the best day of my life.”

Mihawk sighs, setting his glass down with an audible clink “Perona.”

Something about the way he says her name, low, warning, should be enough to shut her up. Should be. But Perona, being Perona, just grins wider “What?” she asks innocently, resting her chin in her hands “I’m just making an observation. It’s not my fault that you—”

Mihawk lifts a hand, and for a moment, you think he’s about to cut her off with a sharp retort. Instead, his fingers brush against the base of his wine glass, moving it an inch to the side. A subtle shift. A deliberate one.

And then you realise his gaze hasn’t left you since this conversation started.

Your breath catches. It’s not dramatic, not obvious, but it’s enough.

Enough for Perona’s eyes to widen.

“Oh.” She leans back, eyebrows raising “Wait. Hold on. Wait.”

Mihawk finally looks at her, his usual unreadable expression in place “What?”

Perona points between you both “This is real, isn’t it?”

You stiffen “What is real?”

She gasps again, clutching her chest like she just uncovered the biggest secret of the century “You! Him! This! Oh my God, I was just teasing, but you’re actually—”

Mihawk exhales sharply, reaching for his wine again “Perona.”

“What! You can’t expect me not to react!” She gestures wildly “I live in this creepy castle with you, and nothing fun ever happens! Of course I’m going to enjoy this!”

You groan, rubbing your temples “Perona, I swear—”

But she’s already giggling, positively thrilled “Oh, this is so cute. Mihawk, are you going to deny it? Hm?” She bats her lashes dramatically “Gonna tell me I’m imagining things? That you don’t look at them like that?”

Mihawk doesn’t answer right away.

Instead, he sets his glass down, levels Perona with a stare so sharp it could probably cut through steel, and says, voice smooth as ever “Mind your business.”

Perona lets out a scream of pure, unfiltered excitement.

── .✦ Crocodile:

The casino is buzzing, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and the murmur of high-stakes deals. You walk beside Crocodile as he moves through the crowd, his presence alone enough to part people like the Red Sea.

It’s nothing new, he’s intimidating without trying, and people know better than to get in his way. But as the two of you step toward a private lounge, the crowd thickens, bodies pressing in too close. Instinct takes over.

A firm hand lands on your lower back.

It’s subtle, barely even a touch, but the warmth of it sends a jolt through your spine. Crocodile doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even glance at you—he just guides you forward, fingers pressing lightly, keeping you close as he moves with that same effortless authority.

You don’t even have time to process it before you hear a quiet, amused scoff.

Daz Bones, walking a few steps behind, raises a brow “Didn’t think you were the chivalrous type.”

Crocodile barely reacts. If anything, he looks bored, taking a slow drag of his cigar before exhaling, smoke curling through the air “Shut it.”

Daz, to his credit, doesn’t push. But the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s holding back a smirk.

You glance up at Crocodile, expecting him to move his hand away now that the crowd has thinned. He doesn’t.

In fact, his fingers shift just slightly, a feather-light movement that sends a slow, creeping heat to your face.

Daz chuckles under his breath “Didn’t peg you as the clingy type, either.”

Crocodile stops walking.

The air changes.

It’s not obvious, no outburst, no harsh words, but the shift is immediate. Tension crackles, and for a split second, it feels like the temperature in the room just dropped.

Daz, wise as he is, raises his hands in mock surrender “Forget I said anything.”

Crocodile doesn’t even spare him a glance. His hand, however, still doesn’t move.

You swallow hard “Uh. You can—”

“Stay close,” he interrupts, voice low and even “People stare too much.”

It’s a flimsy excuse. You both know it.

But as his fingers press just a little more firmly against your back, guiding you forward once more, you decide not to call him out on it.

You don’t say anything. Not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t trust yourself to.

Crocodile’s hand is still there, still resting on your lower back like it belongs, and every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of the heat seeping through his glove. You try not to think about it, try to focus on anything else, but the way his fingers occasionally press just a little firmer, like he’s keeping track of you, making sure you’re right where he wants you, has your thoughts spinning.

Daz Bones says nothing more, though you can feel his amusement. The bastard’s probably enjoying this way too much.

Finally, Crocodile leads you into the private lounge, away from the crowd. The moment you step inside, you expect him to pull away. To let go.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he moves past you to the plush seating area, finally sliding his hand away slowly, like he’s reluctant to do so.

You exhale, a little too sharply. His golden eyes flick to you, sharp and assessing.

“You nervous?”

You scoff, folding your arms to hide the way your hands might be shaking just a little “Please. Why would I be nervous?”

Crocodile doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he takes a slow drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke in a way that feels almost deliberate. Calculated. Then, just as smoothly, he reaches for the glass of whiskey set out for him.

“You tell me,” he says finally, voice smooth as silk “You’re the one who went quiet.”

Your jaw clenches “You’re imagining things.”

He hums, low and amused “Am I?”

Before you can fire back, the lounge door swings open, and one of his subordinates steps in with a report. The atmosphere shifts immediately, Crocodile’s expression goes from teasing to cold, all business. He gestures for you to sit beside him on the couch, as if nothing just happened, as if he didn’t have his hand on you like a silent claim minutes ago.

You’re still reeling, still trying to get a grip on yourself, but you move toward him anyway, settling next to him as he begins discussing plans.

And then, so casually you almost don’t notice—his arm drapes along the back of the couch.

Close.

Too close.

Not touching, but close enough that if you shifted even slightly, his fingers would graze your shoulder.

It’s intentional. It has to be.

You glance at him, searching for any hint of smugness, but he’s unreadable. Just focused, listening to the report with that same cold indifference.

But when you shift in your seat, just slightly, testing—his fingers twitch.

Your stomach flips.

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge it. But that single, almost imperceptible movement is enough to confirm it:

Crocodile is absolutely doing this on purpose now.

── .✦ Sabo:

Sabo considers himself a composed man. A logical man. He doesn’t fluster easily.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until you came along and ruined everything.

It happens on a regular afternoon at the Revolutionary Army base. The sun is shining, birds are singing, and Sabo is absolutely not panicking…yet.

The two of you are sitting together, going over some mission reports. Nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious. Just work.

And then it happens.

Without thinking, Sabo rests his hand on your knee.

Not in a weird way. Not in an intentional way. Just… naturally. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You don’t move. You don’t even react.

Sabo doesn’t notice.

But Koala does.

She grins.

“Wow, Sabo, I didn’t know you were so affectionate.”

Sabo blinks “Huh?”

Koala gestures at your knee, where his hand is still resting comfortably.

He follows her gaze. Sees it. Processes it. Immediately short-circuits.

His hand jumps away like he’s been burned. He chokes on air. His soul leaves his body.

“I—THAT WAS—WAIT—” He scrambles for an excuse, for an explanation, for anything that isn’t I just did that on instinct like a lovesick idiot.

Koala smirks “Oh, don’t stop on my account.”

Sabo malfunctions. He turns to you, desperate for backup, only to find you watching him with amusement.

Oh, this is bad.

Hack strolls by, raising an eyebrow “You two finally together?”

Sabo dies on the spot.

“WE’RE NOT—” He practically explodes, looking at you with betrayal when you don’t immediately deny it.

You shrug “I don’t mind.”

The world ends.

Koala gasps dramatically “So you wouldn’t mind if Sabo kept touching you?”

Sabo chokes “KOALA.”

You just smile “Nope.”

Sabo’s brain shuts down. His face burns. His entire life flashes before his eyes.

Koala grins “Sabo, you gonna sit there or take their hand again?”

Sabo does what any rational, composed second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army would do in this situation.

He runs.

Straight out of the room, down the hall, past a very confused Dragon, who barely lifts an eyebrow as Sabo barrels past him like he’s fleeing for his life.

He does not stop until he’s outside, hands on his knees, breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“You okay there, Chief of Staff?”

Sabo jumps.

Koala is standing behind him, arms crossed, looking way too smug.

He straightens immediately, clearing his throat “I—I just needed fresh air.”

“Right,” Koala says, unconvinced “Totally not because you just had a full-blown crisis over a little hand placement.”

Sabo groans, burying his face in his hands “I wasn’t thinking! It was instinct! And then—and then they said—” His voice breaks. He can’t even say it out loud.

Koala grins “That they don’t mind?”

Sabo melts into the floor.

She claps him on the back “Come on, Sabo. This is a good thing.”

“How is this a good thing?!” He looks at her, betrayed “I made an absolute fool of myself!”

“No, you just made it obvious.”

Sabo freezes.

Koala raises an eyebrow, like she can see the realization hitting him in real time “Wait. Don’t tell me you actually thought you were being subtle this whole time?”

Sabo has to sit down.

He buries his face in his hands “This is a nightmare.”

Koala laughs “You’re so dramatic. Just go talk to them.”

“I can’t just—just walk up to them after that!” Sabo gestures wildly “What if they were just teasing me? What if they didn’t actually mean it? What if—”

“Why don’t you ask them instead of spiraling?”

Sabo hates how logical that is.

Koala grins “They’re still inside, you know.”

Sabo grits his teeth. Stands up. Forces himself to breathe.

And then, before he can overthink himself into oblivion, he marches back inside.

You glance up when he approaches “Hey, you okay? You ran out of here pretty fast.”

Sabo feels his entire existence collapse.

But he forces himself to focus, to stay calm. He sits down across from you, clasping his hands together like he’s about to deliver a serious political statement.

“…Did you mean it?”

You blink “Mean what?”

He swallows hard “That you don’t mind.”

There’s a pause.

Then you smile, tilting your head “Yeah. I meant it.”

Sabo forgets how to breathe.

You lean forward, resting your chin on your hand “Why? Do you mind?”

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. He is malfunctioning at maximum capacity.

“…No.”

You grin “Good.”

Then, so casually, you reach over and take his hand this time.

Sabo dies.

[st4rpiece]

Hi, could you do like some fluffy headcanons with Crocodile. Like with a daughter!reader, he found her and raised her. She's been by his side throughout Baroque Works, jails separates them for a while, but then she makes her way back to him as the Cross Guild is former.

Just, fluffy crocodad headcannons with a daughter!reader. She could work alongside him to, like a secretary. Reader is just happy to be by their dad again^^

father figure

SFW

characters: sir crocodile x daughter!reader summary: crocodile takes in an orphaned child not expecting to grow fondly of her CW: just fluff, lowercase intended, not proofread

—————

crocodile had always been known as a figure of unyielding stoicism and calculated ruthlessness. as the leader of Baroque Works, this was the kind of man his associates and his enemies knew him to be. his lack of affection made dealing with his job much easier as it left no weak points. something he never planned on changing but, fate had a peculiar way of challenging those with the coldest hearts.

it all started when he stumbled upon a small, orphaned child during one of his operations. his sharp eyes started down your dirty and frail figure with initial disgust. your wide eyes, frightened with terror as you clutched the bread you had stolen from his crew.

"who are you?" his voice was gruff, but there was a hint of curiosity.

you looked up, the piece of bread tightly held against you. "i'm just trying to survive," you replied, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fear in your eyes.

crocodile studied you for a moment, something in your gaze stirred a long-buried part of him and for reasons he couldn't quite fathom. leading him to make a decision that surprised even himself. "come with me," he said, turning on his heel.

he wasn't sure why he took you in, but when asked, he justified it as "practical"—you needed protection, and he had the means to provide it. and for a while, his interactions with you matched his words. he was distant and formal, more akin to a business transaction than a familial bond. providing you with your basic needs, leaving the rest up to his crew.

you, however, was undeterred by his cold demeanor. you approached him with the fearless curiosity only a child could muster. you followed him around, your small hand often tugging at his coat, asking endless questions about everything you saw. you drew pictures, and even attempted to braid his hair one evening. despite himself, crocodile found his heart softening. he started to look forward to your chatter, you innocent laughter, and the way you clung to him whenever you were scared.

but as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, something began to change. he found himself spending more time with you, teaching you about the world in his own gruff manner. he showed you how to read maps, how to defend herself, and even how to play chess. 

while he was going through his newest findings on the poneglyph's, you approached him with one of your textbooks. "dad, can you help me with this reading?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation. crocodile's heart skipped a beat at the word "dad." he didn't have it in him to correct you, and though he would never admit it, he cherished the title. he set aside his papers and spent the evening helping you with your book, his rough exterior melting away in your presence.

from then on he became your dad. a change his associates noticed almost immediately. exchanging knowing glances with each other whenever they saw him gently fixing your hair or reading you a bedtime story. Over time, they grew fondly of you, often bringing you small gifts or teaching you tricks of their trade. the once cold and fearsome headquarters of Baroque Works became a place of warmth and laughter whenever you were around.

after his defeat in Alabasta, crocodile was arrested. the charges against him were numerous, and the trial was swift. giving him no time to say goodbye or send you to a proper caretaker. a thought that consumed his thoughts daily as he sat in his cell. despite the harsh conditions of his confinement, crocodile's primary concern was always you. 

countless sleepless nights were spent wondering. wondering if you were being taken care of properly. wondering if you were happy and eating well. wondering if you missed him as much as he missed you. the uncertainty gnawed at him, making his imprisonment even more unbearable. but he held onto the hope of seeing his daughter again, the thought of your smile was his only solace.

once he was released, crocodile wasted no time, moving with the singular purpose of reuniting with you again. his heart pounding with fear and anticipation as he and his associates, who had also been released, searched for you. they scoured the streets of the last island they were on, asking everyone they met if they had seen a little girl with bright eyes and a fearless spirit. after days of searching, they found you. you were staying with one of crocodile's old associates, a retired assassin, who had taken you in and cared for you as best as she could.

when crocodile saw you, his heart swelled with relief and joy. his anxiety and worries vanish after confirming his daughter was safe during his absences. you immediately ran into his arms, your face lighting up as tears streamed down your face. "dad!" you cried, throwing your arms around him.

crocodile hugged you tightly, his usual stoic mask slipping away. "i'm here, princess. i'm here," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. he then lifts you up carrying you in his arms as he turns to look at his associate, gratitude shining in his eyes. "thank you for taking care of my daughter."

the associate nodded, a small smile on her lips. this was the first time her boss thanked her. "she’s a special girl."

crocodile nodded in agreement, his heart full. you had become his world, and he would do anything to keep his world safe. which meant getting locked up like that wasn't an option, but that was for later. making a mental note to call mihawk later, but right now he had some catching up to do.

—————

thank you so much for the request!!

i thought of a few ways to go about it, but this one just felt right, although it isn't really an hc.

and i loved the idea of the reader working with their crocodile, but i see crocodile as the kind of dad who would much rather preserve their innocence, by keeping them away from the dangers of his job as best as he could.

in the end, i hope i did your idea some justice and you (and everyone else) enjoyed !!

[xislyns]

DO AGE GAPS BOTHER THEM?

Marco , Shanks , Rayleigh , Mihawk

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ asks are open!

op masterlist : 𐙚🧸ྀི

how i think the One piece DADDIES would react to having a spouse who has a big age gap with them ? would they be insecure or secure about it? (Reader is from water 7 but honestly it doesnt rlly matter )

a/n : i am obsessed with the dilfs of one piece , istg im going to make a whole series just on hcs for these men 😩😩

AKAGAMI NO SHANKS

it bothers them at first.

Shanks usually is carefree, and during all of his trips across the grandline ofc he would often have flings, it might also be possible he has flings on every island his crew has landed on. but the moment he realized he had serious feelings for you , he grew unusually uncomfortable . It wasn’t like him to overthink, but he found himself wondering if he’d be holding you back.

“you know ____ I’m not exactly the most stable guy, im a wanted pirate,” he said one evening, swirling his drink in his hand as you can hear the crew celebrating their victory in the background . “And I’m older. You could do better ____. you would definitely be better off settling down with a shipwright in the city."

You rolled your eyes, “Stop underestimating me, Shanks. You wont scare me off with those type of words. im here with you, and im here to stay.”you said to him with utmost confidence

His grin returned, sheepish but genuine. “Guess I can’t argue with that.”

From then on, Shanks embraced the relationship fully. He’d grown comfortable about the age gap, capable of saying things like, “See ____ would still pick me even if im an old man” this whole thing will and has become one of the key points that makes him love your relationship more.

When anyone dared to comment on the difference, he’d laugh and throw an arm around you. “Jealousy’s not a good look for you, mate!” he’d sneer, brushing it off .

To Shanks, life was short, and love with you? it was worth any risk.

...⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻...

DRACULE MIHAWK

Not Bothered.

Dating Dracule Mihawk is not an easy task, age gap or not. He is known to be the best swordsman alive and not only that but he is a man of few words.

his piercing gaze often leaves you guessing his thoughts. When the topic of the age difference came up, it was you who bought it up.

“Does it bother you that I’m younger?” you asked one night, standing in the library of his castle.

He regarded you with his usual flat voice, setting down his glass of wine. “Do you really believe me to be someone who concerns myself with unimportant things like age?”

You blinked, unsure if that was an awnser you wanted to hear

Mihawk sighed, walking to approach you. “Age means nothing to me, nor will it ever matter in my life. What matters to me is compatibility, trust, and respect. Do you doubt that we share these things?”

“No,” you murmured, your cheeks warming under his intense stare.

“Then stop questioning it, Love ” he said, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “You’re my spouse, no matter what the world says.”

And that was that. Mihawk was a man who lived his life on his terms, and he could care less about how people perceive him. whats matters is he had you in arms reach.

...⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻...

MARCO THE PHEONIX

Somewhere in between.

Marco had always lived on the Moby Dick, his priorities are split between his crew and his duty as Whitebeard’s right-hand man. But when he met you a lively spirit a decade younger , he found himself intrigued.

At first, Marco hesitated. The age gap wasn’t an issue to him personally, but he was wary of the gossip and judgment it might bring to you. He was scared it would make you insecure and uncomfortable in your relationship. He spoke to you carefully, like he was testing the waters between you two.

“You’re sure about this?” he asked one evening as you sat on the docks together, the sun setting behind you.

“im sure marc,” you replied, placing your hands over his. “Age is just a number to me, Marco. What matters is how we feel. and i feel amazing when im with you"

His lips twitched into a smile, a rare but genuine expression. “You’re too wise for your years, yoi.”

From then on, Marco grew more comfortable with your relationship. He is protective in his own way, always making sure you felt supported. When anyone questioned the relationship, he’d brush them off with his usual calm demeanor, saying,“As long as we’re happy, nothing else matters, yoi.”

To him , as long as you are okay with it, then it wasnt a big deal for him. He just wants you to have the upmost comfort.

...⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻...

SILVERS RAYLEIGH

Not Bothered.

Rayleigh had seen and done it all. In his golden years, he thought his days of love and romance were behind him. Then you came along, a ball of youthful energy and charisma that reignited a spark he thought was long extinguished in his old life.

“Age gap, hm?” he chuckled one night as you teased him about his silver hair. “I’ve been living long enough to know that love doesn’t follow rules,and neither do i.”

Rayleigh adored your youthfulness and the fresh perspective you brought into his dull life. He wasn’t insecure about the gap though , if anything he found it amusing. When others raised eyebrows, he’d wave them off with a laugh.

“Let ‘em talk what they want” he’d say, pulling you closer. “We’re happy, and that’s all that matters.”

He values your presence and he was always there to share a story or give advice when you needed it. To him, the age gap was just another adventure for him.

[undiscovered-horizon]

[It’s considered good etiquette to ask a man about his wife’s wellbeing. Except if the man in question is Dracule Mihawk.]

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Garp hates having to call Mihawk, mainly because of the warlord's attitude. Used to the usual "yes, sir!" of the Marines, a man with his own will and agenda is not something he entirely knows how to navigate. Especially since both of them know that the World Government needs the warlords more than they need the bureaucracy. And that doesn't exactly help in exercising power.

His attempts at diplomacy have burst into flames each time and today isn't going to be much different:

"How’s the missus?" Garp asks in the nicest tone he can force although he's aware that Mihawk knows how much the vice admiral hates asking for Dracule's assistance.

Mihawk only scoffs. "Are you calling just to spoil my mood or is there another reason for your impertinence?"

"I was just trying to-"

"Don't," he cuts him off in a stern voice. "If you have business with me, speak fast. If you're interested in my wife, I know where you live, Garp. I'd suggest losing your unwelcome nosiness before you lose something else."

Little did Garp know at the time but his little question was possibly the worst strategy he could think of. Dracule Mihawk is not like most men and the mere mention of his wife by acquaintances only enrages him. Work and private life do not ever mix. And he'll be damned if someone tries to breach that, even in the form of a courtesy. Therefore, the rest of the call was filled with openly insulting answers that were bold even for Mihawk. A veiled threat or two also found their way into their rather tense conversation.

You know he's done with Garp when he lets out a frustrated grunt. Sometimes you wonder if this grumpy, forever dissatisfied version of him is the only side of Mihawk his acquaintances know. Maybe he really is two men in the form of one.

He's sitting at his desk, thinking about something and not bothering to get up for now. Considering the fact that his hat is lying on the table and not on his head, Mihawk is probably not planning on going out anytime soon. Then again, judging by his spoiled mood, his homestay is a blessing for the first poor sods that would cross his path.

In slow steps, you stroll to his side, letting your hand brush through his hair. He doesn't say anything, only leans his head further towards you. The thing about Mihawk is that he loved to reject and decline but he never does so to you. No, in your case it's the opposite - he revels in allowing you whatever you want.

So intimidating and combative, yet soft and looking for intimacy. Truly, two men with the face of one.

"My mother used to say that each grey hair is one thing we worry about," you say quietly. "At this rate, love, your whole head will be white by noon."

"Your mother also says that milk goes sour because gnomes piss in it," he retorts. Yes, your mother and her strange folk beliefs... She's probably the only person Mihawk can force himself to be nice to despite his dislike.

His response earns a hearty laugh from you. Clear as day, you can see his posture relax as he listens to the music of your happiness. If he even thinks about the possibility of Garp or any other of his acquaintances hearing it, he might just get furious again.

"Well, nobody's perfect," you say between chuckles.

Then, Mihawk gently grabs your hand and lowers it to his face. With softness and passion that hardly befits a man of his infamy, he kisses the inside of your hand. "You seem to be doing so effortlessly."