#one piece request

[herzzgeist]

Hey I'd love to request a knight!Lawx princess!Female!Reader if you're comfortable writing that? Your work is so amazing 😍

And NSFW if you're ok with that too!

Pairing: Knight Law x Princess fem!reader | Word count: 8.5k | Warnings: violence/gore, angst, smut in the end - praise kinkish

Synopsis: As princess of the Red line kingdoms, life is peaceful. So you thought. Neighboring empires are in desperation, threatend to be overtaken by an infamous family - the Donquixote. After the king of Flevance passed, the successor, Trafalgar Law, asks the ruler of the gate keep kingdoms for support, your father. There is no way you can trust this man, can you?

A/N: MEDIEVAL AU! - I'm glad you like my works! I must apologize for the long wait, I got too invested in this. (I was close in making a multi chapter out of this one) Hope you like my little epiphany I had here, dear Wolfe! Big thanks for the request

(Before I forget, I'm german and I was CRAVING to write Law with snippets of his apparent native tongue - because medieval screams germanic)

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

The ambience is omnious . .

Each step taken reverberates through the imperial walls of the castle, your home. The air is filled with the scent of candles, oak wood and old leather bound books, herbs and lavish silken fabrics. Ornamented in bronze and golden flowering, pillars reach up high, standing tall in the castle's halls. Every now and then, the sunlight gets caught in the shimmering metal, reflecting directly towards you, blinding and restricting your vision to the slightest.

Down the corridor, leading to the throne hall, you hear a man announcing the arrival of a person unbeknownst to you. "My king, Lord Trafalgar, the knight of heart seeks your presence!", the voice raspy and old, calls out to your father, Eric VanDoth the third, ruler of the Red line empires, who gleefully receives the arriving: "Ah, Trafalgar old friend! I am glad to see your safe return. How are matters in the north?"

Leaning against the massive door, opened to free the way to the throne, you listen to the familiar tone, chills running down your spine - how you despise him. "Your highness, I am inconsolable, the north is at it's worst state - I wasn't able to fullfil your bidding, for that I must humbly apologize."

The north - a place as cold as it's former king, so you were told. It was supposed to be ruled by this very man, kneeling before your father, lowering his head in reverance. Trafalgar Law, rightful heir of the now shattered kingdom of Flevance. To this day, he is nothing more than a wandering knight, known for his cunning and controlled fighting strategies.

"Tis a shame indeed. Do not fret, I am fully aware of your homeland's situation, so please, quiet down your concerns. Were your followers successful to cognise the countries suffering?", the king straightens, lifting himself off the throne and approaches Law, him still remained on one knee.

Nodding his head, he confirms and raises from the ground, properly facing his highness. "My scouts managed to discern my land's circumstances. It is a matter of a forced overtake from my father's bloodline.", he explains, low and audibly torn.

"My Lady?", a feeble voice tears you out of focus, an indication for you to stop your eavesdropping immedatiely. In a quick spin you turn around and your gaze falls upon a young woman, it is your chamber maid, bowing courteously. "Apologies my Lady, I do not mean to pry, but isn't it unheard of listening to the unknowing people's conversations?" - "Valeria, you scared me. But yes, it isn't exactly a very profound manner. I'll see to my father and the knight this instant."

Before you make your way to the halls, you glance over your shoulder with a soft smile: "Oh please, would you be so kind and prepare my outdoor garments and parasol? It is a beautiful day outside." Your chamber maid bows once more, her head low in respect: "Of course, Princess." - "Thank you, Valeria."

Thus you tread nearer to the two men speaking of reports and strategies to win over the north - it is then where you take a closer look at Trafalgar, the wandering knight. His armor is made out of white cold steel, the flourish ornaments on his chestplate formed into a curling heart, beginning from his sternum. The cloak swaying from his shoulders is as pitch black as his hair, white spots spread over the dark fabric here and there.

Hanging on his back appears to be the cloak's hood, it's rim sewed with fur of a white animal to protect from the cold at northern plains. To your notice, now that Law's gauntlets are off, you see letters punctured into his knuckles - saying: DEATH.

It leaves you appalled, come to think this is a highly regarded knight and the king's ambassador. Not to mention his sinister glare, freezing your blood. His face enframed by raven sideburns and a chin beard, only enhancing those storm grey eyes to your horrification. And the skin, as expected from a northerner - as pale as snow.

It is only a matter of time, until your father might consider to grade this shadow of a man as Commander of his garrison. How terrific . . purely to your misery, you already know it is bound to happen.

"What about the barriers, are there enough- ah my dearest (Y/n), Lord Trafalgar and I were merely discussing the current state of afairs in the Flevance kingdom.", the king greets you with open arms, as soon as he comes to realise your approach. All the same goes for Law, his demeanor stiff and haughty, yet still respectful.

"So I heard. Lord Trafalgar?", you give a deft curtsy to the knight, who turns to you and bows in return, greeting with a low 'your grace'. Mid movement, Law lifts his head, his stare meeting your deep e/c eyes, eliciting a skip of your heart in response. Absurd, you detest this man, so much so your skin bares in gooseflesh. Something about him tells you - he has seen and done things. Not to your kingdom's benevolence.

Your father continues: "Be that as it may, you are welcome to stay, friend. And I dearly hope you to consider my offer."

Offer? Did you overhear that part of their conversation, while talking to Valeria. Keeping your composure, standing straight, though the corsette wouldn't allow otherwise, you supress the urge to shoot a glare towards your dear father.

"You shall hear my answer the coming day, your highness.", Law reassures, saluting to the king as gesture of declaration. So the king brings his servant over to lead the knight to his chamber. "Silas will show you the way. You are free to join us at tonight's dinner, I'll look foward to more detailed matters of plans."

The tall man follows the compared to him dwarvish seeming servant, waving his thanks. To the rhythm of his metallic sabatons, the chainmail clinks against his armor with each and every step, letting your neck hair stand on end. The black cloak on his back sways from left to right from his fast paced walk.

As he vanishes, this is where your utmost worries unfold: "Father, I don't trust this man! He is dreary and cold, there is that sinister feeling about him." - "My sweet, calm down. I am aware you aren't fond of him, but he is in need of our assistance. I cannot decline an old friend's legacy. Please have faith, (Y/n)."

Exhaling deeply, you losen up and place your palm onto your father's shoulder, accepting his decision. "I truly hope you are right . . I will see you tonight." - "Yes dear.", and with those words you go ready yourself for a stroll in the castle gardens.

-_

Roses, tulips, violets . .

. . all flowers pool over the royal backyard like an ocean of colours and shapes. In midst stands a enormous fountain, adorned with a sculpture of your country's symbol, the bronze dove.

The sun's radiance warms you from within.

Sitting on an stone bench, adjoining the gravel path leading back to the castle, you flip through the pages of an newly received novel, reading "Deceitful Silhouettes".

It's prologue roils up emotions inside you, the letters weaving you in and reaching for your now alarmed instincts regarding the knight of the north.

Speaking of the devil. In the distance, Law saunters through the garden, his gaze hovering over the red and violet sea of flowers. He is headed your direction. Nervous, you stick your nose deep into the pages, not keen on meeting the king's ambassador one on one.

Although the golden orb in the sky grants you the needed warmth, the freezing cold coming from this human being deflects it without effort, to say the least.

"Your grace, still spell bound by mere black on white as always I see.", it's too late, he calls out to you, defining your weakness for literature. Peeking over the bound papers, you scoff: "I see you didn't change from the last time we met, Lord Trafalgar."

Quick to retort your remark, the tall man huffs a short 'perhaps', pulling aside the cloak to seat beside you. The last sun rays cast upon his armor, making you whince subtly from the light's sting. "I believe things haven't changed between you and me, Princess." - "How troublesome, there I thougth there was hope for the both of us.", your sarcasm throws a shadow of contrast against Law's more serious statement.

The knight's eyes land on your book's label, deciphering the name and persuming it's content. A smirk grows over his lips and he comments nonchalantly: "If you are in attempt to school yourself in deceitful doings, I suggest you to undertake the trainings somewhere your victim cannot see what you are up to."

An eery aura looms over you, staring down the man on the neighboring seat. He lifts his hands in defense: "Oh, with all due respect, your highness." - "Save your courtesy for tonight's dinner, knight of heart."

How much you despise his sarcastic mannerism, not that you are any better, yet it won't get over your head, that it actually enlightens you, a rather exciting banter given the fact how eyes mirror the truth. Nonetheless, you decide to set aside the undesirable, he is not to be trusted.

About to make your way back to the castle, you close the book with a loud snap and open the parasol, leaned against the stone bench. "I hopefully won't see you tonight, my Lord." - "You might.", as you click your tongue, you turn on your heels and carefully tread the path.

However, you hear a mused voice chuckle behind you: "I am looking foward to further intriguing discussions with you, your grace."

The gravel underneath your feet cracks and pops by the impact of your soles, quickening your step, the sound grows louder.

This man . .

Law shakes his head in disbelief, internally smiling to himself. Just when he was to get off the bench, a shadow scurrying along the forest's edge catches his attention. Squinting his dark circles enframed eyes, the feeling of unease makes a vacant appearance.

"Wie beunruhigend . .", he mutters in his native language, rubbing his neck before sighing in discontent.

(Translation: "How concerning . .")

-_

Safran pastry, wine, dried vegetables and fruit, ham and rosemary potatoes . .

. . fill the table, plates assorted over every empty surface. The loud snaps coming from the fireplace echo in the dining room.

"You are the first to arrive my Lady, shall I bring anything to drink?", Valeria leads you towards the bountiful table. Thanking your chamber maid, you ask for a goblet of wine in hopes to shorten the wait for the other's arrival.

Taking a seat by side the chimney, you watch as the flames dance and flicker, hypnotizing you to a certain extent. The smell of the delicacies lets your insides growl in hunger, impatience growing stronger each second.

Valeria returns with your beverage, a smile tugging on her lips as she hands it over to you. One sip of the red liquid is enough to make your head spin, given by an empty stomach.

Behind the closed door, you hear a well-known voice laughing and discussing vividly. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear- oh you're already here love!", who would have thought it to be your father, entering with none other than Trafalgar?

Didn't you politely wish for him not to attend earlier this afternoon? Must be something about his hearing. Your pout enhances your sour mood, leaving Valeria amused - smirking to the display of you practically burning holes into the king's ambassador.

"My Lady, he is quite the looker no? I heard he's much so adored amongst women.", she snickers, leaning towards you. It is only until now, that you notice Law wearing a black vest, buttons undone far too low for your taste. Is that the same symbol like the one on his armor's chest plate, tattooed on his torso?

The lines embellish his porcelain like skin, enhancing the muscles. Every breath shows over his heaving rib cage. Heat shoots up your face. You're not certain wether to blame it on your rage or . . abashment from your insolent staring.

Steel eyes catch your slip, lids falling and forming into an intrigued glint, with a hint of curiosity. Law's blown pupils avert back to the conversation he's holding with your father.

Audibley gulping, you curse inwardly for letting your guard down this way, asking Valeria for more wine to deter the matter. Your chamber maid titters.

The food is as delicious as ever. "My compliments to the chef. This is Alfred's work I assume?" - "Yes, your highness.", the king praises the culinary experience, fowarding them to Valeria, who bows deftly and begins to bring the amassing empty plates back to the kitchen.

As if prey to the predator, you avoid Trafalgar's cold glare, him fleetingly observing you by noticing your each and every move.

"(Y/n), I would like to announce rather good news!", is what you hear, coming from the other end of the table. A proud grin plasters over your father's mouth and he continues: "Lord Trafalgar will be your guard for the time being." Did your hearing just falter?

Back and forth, switching between your father and Law you gape at them in disbelief. Without a word, you sip on your golden goblet and set it onto the table - provocatively slow. "Father, I cannot accept this.", you hiss and straighten yourself, about to leave the room.

Out of patience already, the king uses his privilege of hierarchy: "This wasn't a question young lady! It is final, he will be your guard!"

Close to throwing a tantrum, you control your burst of emotion - deep breaths holding in the bitter words lingering on your tongue.

Diffusing the tension, the knight gets off his seat and approaches you, dispersing the undeclared: "Your grace, it is only for the time I stay at your castle. It won't be for long, I can assure you."

The way he stands infront of you, his head held in veneration, which you doubt is in honesty, he places his palm against his heart. Loud enough only for your ears to hear, he hushes: "I'd be honoured, if I gained a mere speck of your trust, Princess."

Discomfort is vacant on your demeanor, fidgeting and twirling your fingers - it is then, where you come to realise that Valeria was right, he is a looker. In addition, his voice brings your body to unknown territory, feeling weak to the knees out of the blue.

No! Stay strong (Y/n). He is not to be trusted. He is not to be-

"Ich stehe Euch zu Diensten, euer Hoheit.", Law hums in his native tongue, his hand asking for yours in order to demonstrate his respect - his seriousness in all this. This truly isn’t not a joke, is it?

(Translation: "I am at your service, your Highness.")

Gently, you put your trust in him, though with abiding doubts, however the lips that enticingly sought your acceptance, press onto the silken skin on the back of your hand. At that, it lasts far too long to your liking.

The gooseflesh that usually forms out of pure horrification, now bears a completely different meaning - you are flustered, roused even. "Th-That's enough Lord Trafalgar! Quit making an utter fool of yourself, I accept . ."

-_

People gather and follow the brightly lit lanters, leading to your kingsdom‘s capital. The air stings your skin - winter's first greeting this year.

Horses pull wagons, filled with wares and goods to be sold on the market, their hooves clopping over the cobble stone streets.

Passers by look at you in curiosity, for you pulled the rim of your hood a tad bit too further down your face. Annoyance growls your way, as Trafalgar mutters: "Are you trying to torture me? It's the fourth time this week we tread among civilians."

"Why isn't that tedious? I thought you are at my service, my Lord.", is what chuckles out of you, fidgeting at your cloak. Law only clicks his tongue to your insolent and conceited behaviour, these walks to the capital not exactly being in his book.

The high pitch and grating squeals from a group of women rips the both of you out the conversation, or instead distasteful chaff. You turn to see the source of commotion and notice a green haired man seated on his charger, leading a patrol team.

Three fully grown stallions take a halt beside you two and the leader addresses you: "Up and about to visit the markets, my Lady?" - "Commander Roronoa! What a pleasant surprise! Indeed, I am headed to see the jewelery and pottery stands. And I assume you are here to keep everything under control?"

Nervous, you shuffle in place, feeling lightheaded and your heart picks up the pace by the sight of your royal guards' high chief. The red tint on your cheeks begins to glow and you give your brightest of smiles.

The king's ambassador isn't a fool, fully comprehending that you are fond of this man. Law watches you closely, realising how your demeanor changed in a sheer instant - leaving him to question 'why you nuture such hatred towards him?'

Trafalgar's attention averts to the green haired smirking bastard. His armor is shimmering onyx, adorned with a dark red cloak falling from his shoulders. Counting three golden earrings on his left ear, in addition, Law is taken aback by the long grazing scar eternalised onto Roronoa's left eye.

You practically swoon for this simple Commander. How ridiculous, the raven next to you thinks to himself. Nonetheless, why do you seem so . . approachable, loving? It goes beyond your temporary body guard's comprehesion.

Now confirming your assumption, Roronoa nods and grins over both ears. His horse's impatience shows by it's uneasy scuffs of it's hoove against the ground. Reins are getting pulled to calm the stallion, all while in the process of giving Law a long lasting stare, the Commander scoffs: "The scary dog privilege should keep you safe. Be seeing you, Princess."

"I beg your pardon?", the knight of heart tears open his eyes, shook about the term that lowly 'Soldier' Roronoa spat at him a moment ago. Yet, the occassion to counter his insolence passed it's point, as the patrolling group rides ahead to the capital.

You beckon: "Come along now, my Lord. It isn't far now." Walking the path, heavy footsteps catch up to you and the raspy voice of the man you oh so curse gives you more reason to incite. "Interesting, your highness is about to drop the hankerchief for a mere royal guard.", Law muses, not a care in the world of exposing you.

"Oh hush, this is none of your business, mere ambassador.", is what you pout, lifting your nose in arrogance. There is a feeling of success, subconsciously aware that you are victorious in this game of childish ribbing.

Admittedly, this sinister man has grown on you, given the fact he ended up as your personal guard about two months ago. Still, never would you concede to those hidden innuendos in his steel glare, looking at you in ways you wish to misinterpret from the beginning.

There is that certain . . spark.

Your body guard isn't keen on being called a 'mere ambassador'. Why, you do seem to know your way in hierarchy, (Y/n). Ignoring your insult, Trafalgar escorts you further to the village, only minutes away on foot.

-_

Merchants call out to the potential customers, roaming across the market's streets.

The smell of freshly baked bread, mead, smoked ham and all kinds of herbs fills your nostrils as you pass stalls.

Sauntering, you take in the ambience, inhaling the scents and enjoying the peace and calm the time brings.

Occupied with the opposite concept, Law worriedly lets his gaze hover over the crowd, not wholly indulging in the cheerful of this event. "My lord, you appear distant. Something the matter?" - "Just vigilant. The situation isn't as tranquil as it looks.", his concern is contagious, your question bounces off a wall of stubborn and discipline.

Suddenly, a piece of turkish delight restricts Trafalgar's vision, for you hold it up right infront of his face: "Calm your senses and taste this! I am sure you simply are too overattentive."

Eyebrows furrow, skeptical about your offer, the knight declines. "I can turn this into an order very quickly, if you won't abide.", using your hierarchy card against him, there is no use in refusing you.

The powdered sugar gathers around his chapped lips, spreading over his black chin beard. If you wouldn't know it any better, this display of your guard chewing on the sugary delight is more than appeasing to you.

There he stands. A fully armored knight, carrying around a long sword on his shoulders. A man so intimidating, people genuinley think of him to be an evil creature, the princess's scary guard dog.

The so called scary guard dog apparently is tamed by your unexpected gesture, suckling on the honey and wiping away the sugar from his chin. "This isn't very lady like to feed someone lower than you, your grace.", he utters, but his comment falls on deaf ears. So you retort: "It isn't very guard like either, to eat out of the princess's hands."

Logic is non existent in that case. Rolling his eyes, Law turns away from you and steps away from the merchant stall.

The more time you spend together like this, the more you learn about the knight of heart. All forenoon, until the sun reaches it's highest peak, teasing banters and chaffs dispersed into thin air, as if there were none to begin with . . as if Lord Trafalgar was a good friend.

Friend? Is that how you wish to call him that?

Your heart sets out a beat, considering the idea of declaring your point of view of this relationship between him and you. Law walks a few feet before you, making sure anything in front is secured, yet it is his position to be at fault in less crowded alleys you find yourself in, not noticing the following immediately.

About to speak your mind, a giant and calloused hand slams onto your mouth, to silence your muffled gasp of shock.

You can hear your blood rushing through your ears, the lungs in your ribcage tighten and push out the remaining air in panic.

"You are far too pretty to wander around these parts of the kingdom, Lady VanDoth.", sounds from the back, a nasty snarl hushes over your shoulder and the tinge of alcohol wafts around you.

Black silhouettes your vision, recognizing Trafalgar turning around, instantly unsheathing his blade: "You! Get your filthy hands off the princess!" - "Princess?" The stranger snorts in gutteral gloat and presses a dagger against your throat, responding in Law's native language.

"Habt Ihr es nicht gehört, Ritter des Todes? Der Herrscher dieses Königreichs ist tot. Diese Frau, die Ihr hier seht ist nun die Königin, Narr!", he spits in amusement, the blade gnawing on your skin, blood trickles down your gorge from it‘s puncture.

(Translation: "Didn't you hear, knight of death? The ruler of this kingdom is dead. This Woman here is now the queen, fool!")

Noticing a distinct tattoo on the masked man's hand, a grinning skull being split in half, your guard gets enraged and approaches the maniac behind you in threateningly slow motion, his sword ready to slice it's target: "Scheisse . . ich bin derjenige den Ihr sucht, räudiger Sohn einer Hündin! Lasst sie gehen! Sie hat nichts mit dem Grinsenden Schädel, weder der Donquixote Familie zu tun!"

(Translation: "Shit . . I'm the one you're looking for, son of a bitch! Let her go! She has nothing to do with the Grinning Skull, nor the Donquixote family!")

The stranger chuckles sinisterly, deftly paying no mind to Trafalgar's threats. "Did you hear that little girl? Your father is dead!", so he states, earning a whimper of distress out of you. Dread widens the windows to your now vulnerable soul, emotions forming into salty droplets flowing down your cheek. You don't trust your hearing.

Out of impulse, you aim your fist for his groin, but there is no chance you are able to reach him, his stronghold keeping you in place. "Now now, let's not get hasty, bitch. My master will be pleased upon your arrival in Flevance."

"I said hands off!", you hear the atagonizing scream coming from Law, who storms at you in full spead. The dagger fends of the longsword, though only barely and the maniac pulls you along, yelling to back off. Fingers claw into your neck, limiting your ability to breathe - already close to passing out.

The knight is tied, he cannot advance without you getting fataly hurt, thus he stays at a safe distance.

So the masked one grabs you by the wrist and makes a run for it, throwing insults and curses at you among the escape attempt. You hold out to your guard: "Law!" All is left to see, is Lord Trafalgar clenching his teeth and sprinting the opposite direction.

No . . please. This cannot end this way. Those words cloud your thoughts, bringing you to a state of overwhelming doubts and fear, your limbs becoming numb.

In terror, you see how your people get assassinated by other countless men with hoods hiding their faces, the grinning skull imprinted on either their arms, hands or necks.

Women screech out of horror, children cry and men fend off the ambush with all the power they're able to muster. It is a picture of nightmares, blood and intestines spread across the ground to those bastard's sheer pleasure, hearing them snicker as they murder one after the other.

The assassin roars at you furiously: "Run faster you whor-" Just before he gets to end his provocation, the stranger's head rolls over the cobble stone next to your feet, for a blade quick and sharp separated it from those ragged shoulders mid movement.

"Princess, we must make haste! The king has been assaulted and the castle is still under siege!", a loud voice calls out to you on the back of a horse, riling in place from the hectic. It's Commander Roronoa. His hand holds out to you, heaving you onto his stallions's back and animates it to gallop straight to the palace.

Scurrying and aimlessly running from the danger, the village folk seek shelter, dodging Roronoa's charge. In the distance you identify an archer, the bow taught and prepared to shoot it's arrow, aimed towards you.

In fret, you squeeze your eyes shut and you hear the Commander cursing under his hitched breath.

Yet, the arrow doesn't find it's target. A tall man, armored in cold steel thrusts his longsword through the enemy's stomach, shredding the archer's bellows. Boneless, the body sinks to the ground and the man saving your getaway yells: "Go secure the castle! I will hold the line here!.

Trafalgar enables your escape, covering your back and ridding anyone who dares to follow you. In the corner of your eye, you watch as he fights a group of assassins trying to come after you.

He saved your life . .

-_

Countless moons passed since the Donquixote intrusion.

Luckily, your army was prepared for such atrocious attacks. It wasn't enough to save your dearest father whatsoever.

The goodbyes were painful, the grief only grew by the fact you weren't able to protect him. Doubts about Lord Trafalgar overwhelmed you, to think it was his doing, which turned into a burden he understood will never be forgiven that easily by you.

The knight of heart, or as it came to pass, knight of death, was in fact seeking shelter for the time being, instructed as an under cover body guard of yours. Your father took him in, granting him shelter, to gather and plan the reclaim of his kingdom.

Where security was surmised, chaos induced along this man's path. You knew he wasn't to be trusted, however was he truly to blame? Eric VanDoth was a generous and peaceful man, a king to look up to, although the risk of being used for kindness - which in this world was never a good weapon to begin with - not ever was disputed.

Lord Trafalgar appreciated VanDoth's support, deeming him a honorable and trustworthy man, these words said to you in his utmost condolensces.

All this, Law explained to you through the years of renewal and acceptance of your rulership. What would have happend, if you knew these plans sooner? It is uncertain to you why they have been kept from you, but you assume it was for your own protection.

So to this day, you are the queen of the Red line empires, (Y/n) VanDoth the fourth, ruler of the gate kingdom. A great responsibility has been bestowed upon you, as the keeper of the celestial directions and seas.

And Law? It was a great announcement, one you actually were glad and overjoyed to hear - Trafalgar Law, reclaimed his place as king of Flevance, for him and his people countered the Donquixote overtake.

Life turned for the better - peace once more was restored to the northern empires, as the rightful ruler returned home.

Nevertheless, you unlikely admit that a feeling of longing filled your mind, as your thoughts spinned around the king of heart. Only letters, inscripted with the obvious interest and lovable banters, a spark, left you yearning for more - and the day of his visit was finally about to occur.

-_

"My queen, Lord Trafalgar has arrived!", Silas reports while walking towards the throne, on which you are seated.

"Bring his followers to the gathering halls and let Trafalgar enter the gardens, I'll await him there." - "Yes, your highness.", you thank your servant with a warm smile, nodding at him and straightening yourself off the throne.

Valeria follows you silently, her attention never wavering from you. You turn to face her: "Please dear, bring me my parasol." Deftly accepting your request with a low 'my queen' she makes her way to the cabins.

The sun's grace enlightens the castles halls, crystal clear windows deflecting the rays in all kinds of colours onto the bronzen embellishments. It reminds of the times you entered the throne halls, whenever he sought your father.

Today wasn't any different, for at long last you are able to see him again.

Greeted by the usual garden of red and purple, you breathe in the crisp and warm air surrounding you, reminiscing the past and looking foward to the future all the same. The parasol provides you with protection, it's shade cooling your skin.

You take a seat at the stone bench and admire the scenery before you. It hasn't changed, not at all. After all these years, it is as if time stood still, solely for this moment.

"Your grace, I think you are missing your usual literature. Shall I bring it to you?", a voice deep, makes your head spin hastily to the source of familiarity. His name hushes out of you in whisper and you cannot help but laugh at his remark.

There he stands, Trafalgar, the king of heart. Of course you haven't forgotten your courtesy and get off the bench to bow subtly as greeting.

Glimmering in the afternoon's shine, his armor reflects the heart upon his chest, which he wears in pride. It's colour has been changed to anthracite grey, the pauldrons heavy on his shoulders and every edge of noble plate is adorned with fine lines of bright gold.

Only the cloak remained the same, haging on his back elegantly, throwing off a threatening shadow beneath his feet. How you wish to pull the hood over his head and draw him in . . yet, what makes you think you are allowed to?

His hand gently holds out to yours and leads it to his lips, respecting the regards a queen of your calibre deserves to earn. "Except for your title, nothing has changed about you, my lord." - "I can say the same about you, your majesty.", knowing glints of hidden love interest is what you share, seeing the man in front of you kiss the back of your hand with utmost care.

Strolling through the royal gardens, you walk side by side of one another, speaking of your empires' new era, Flevance's reclaim and the Red line's capital restoration. Much has happend the time Lord Trafalgar saw you last - in honesty a shame, he thinks to himself, nonetheless the saving of his kingdom was inevitable.

"Have you considered entering the bond of matrimony, your grace?", Law questions you out of the blue, a shiver running down your spine in surprise. It wasn't what you ought to hear from a man of his stature, thus you answer earnestly: "Not yet, not properly. I must admit it would be of convenience."

Heavy footsteps inch your direction as the both of you come to a stand, sturdy chains clank against his sabatons in the rhythm of his approach. He lowers: "May I have the honor?"

Dumbfounded you watch him kneel down before you, embracing your tender palm: "I humbly ask for your hand in marriage." Full of expectations, his steel eyes wander up to witness your reaction.

It skipped, the beat of your heart - blood rushing through your veins in high speed, the air bearly leaving your lungs. All your nobility, all the the royal grace you have to represent melts off of you. Emotions strongly washing over, hearing his declaration.

Will you accept?

-_

He remembers it as if it was yesterday.

You, in a gown competing the beauty of nature, it's white silk embracing your delicate frame. The bells rang and people cheered in glee. It was the happiest day of his life, for he swore an oath to his loving bride, to protect her, to be her supporting hand and shelter.

This is the day, the Red line empire has been united with Flevance, emerging as a powerful kingdom over the northern seas. Bound by marriage, a king and a queen reign over the lands that once were shattered, rebuilding hope and solitude.

At that, it is a strong bond, a matrimony sought in reason of love, which is a seldom, but not uncommon case. You welcome the warm feeling of your doting husband being your pillar, your base of unwinding.

The white fabric glides off your shoulders, exposing your soft skin. A shiver runs down Law's spine, entranced by your allure. Pupils dilate due to tremendous attraction towards you and he gruadually steps closer. "Ich habe keine Worte um Eure Schönheit zu beschreiben . .", he mutters in his tongue, to that you solely manage to chuckle in reply.

(Translation: "I have no words for your beauty to describe . .")

This is where you decide to prove your ability to provide an answer in kind: "Kein Grund, so förmlich zu sein, mein König. Ich bin ganz die deine." - "Auch noch sprachbegabt? Ihr steckt voller Überraschungen." The man looks you up and down, a shaky breath escaping him, knowing too well, what is about to occur.

(Translation: "No need to be so formal, my king. I am all yours." - "Also gifted with languages?" You are full of surprises.")

Lips, that Trafalgar yearned for to taste, finally conceal his, silencing every thought in his mind. To think, that the both of you harbored such hatred for each other, love has conquered your hearts in the end, the sense behind it inexplicable.

Hands, that longed to touch you, graze your waist and neck, pulling you in nearer, as if holding on for dear life. Close, is what he needs you to be this instant, his warmth engulfing you as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

A voice, that whispers your name and foreign words as if chanting a spell. Not all is beknownst to you, however one sentence reverberates in your ears as he purrs: "Ihr seid das Schönste, das unter der Sonne wandelt, meine Herzdame." His sweet nothings elicits a low moan out of you, what Law deems as a melody to his senses.

(Translation: "You are the most beautiful thing that walks under the sun, my queen of hearts.")

Garments are spread across the floor. Two lovers found their way to the bed, intertwined, driven by desire. For the first time, your eyes feast upon his lean body, embellished with dark, fine lined tribal ink all across his torso.

Tracing the imprinted ornaments, your fingers hover over them with utmost care, earning a satisifed sigh out of your spouse. "I dearly hope you are not all too appalled by-", before he can finish his sentence with hinted sarcasm, you hush him with your index, pressing those precious lips shut. So you coo: "Quit your foolery, you know I love you, all of you"

Affectionately, he lowers himself onto you, heart to heart, chests heaving against each other - nervosity evident in both of you. Peppered kisses along your ear let your back arch, leaving you in languish as he pulls away to groan huskily: "Dann gehört dies Euch, meine Königin."

(Translation: "Then this belongs to you, my queen.")

Leading your palm to his wildly beating muscle in his ribcage, he romantically offers you his heart, confessing his feelings towards you yet again, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Now one, his length penetrates your velvet walls in a painstakingly slow and passionate manner. You squirm and tremble to the rhythm of his grinds, filling you up completely. Cresent prints trail down his back, the scrapes flushing in a sarutated red.

You purr his name into the crook of his neck, sideburns tickling you in the process. Subsequently, you tug on his golden earrings, taking Law off guard, as he moans in response. Those gestures madden the former knight, bringing him to gain in volume.

Sweat trickles along his hairline, for he picks up the pace and lifts your leg by grabbing the plush of your thigh. Now deeper, the tip of his hardness hits you in spots that lets you see stars, in combination with his delightful hums of pleasure it sets your core ablaze.

A bit more forceful, his hand takes hold of your breast, squeezing it out of pure lust, watching you as your head rolls back in bliss. You are reaching your climax, lulling incomprehesive words to your lover. Gently pulling on your hardened and pink tinted bud, he cannot supress his vast impulsives, listening to your pleas: „Yes, let go for me . .“

From overstimulation, your free leg slings over his thrusting hip, drawing Law‘s frame even closer. Lips clash onto one another, muffling the enticing sounds of your high. His teeth prod against the plump and the tongue twirls along yours.

A rush of sensation washes over you - feeling animal, feral - as your orgasm spills out of you, dripping down his groin. Law is chasing, not far from his own release for the scene infront of him lures him into all out ecstasy.

Giving in the crave to make you his entirely, he pours out the love he long dreamed about indulging you in. Weakend, his whole physique stutters and quakes, overwhelmed with the idea of claiming his beloved queen.

Warm air brushes against your skin, coming from Law nuzzling your cheek, panting: „Ich liebe dich.“

(Translation: "I love you.")

[venus-giirl]

One Piece Requests

Okay. I've been thinking for a while about writing about One Piece characters. In my mind I have everything, I just need to capture it. I had thought about choosing a series of themes and writing about them.

I'm excited about the Monster Trio

Do you like the idea? All topics are welcome, I just desperately need to write about them.

[choyling]

OP sketch request!

i still need a lot more practice so if anyone has any one piece character request, feel free to send one in!!! ヾ(•ω•`)o

[pseudopigeons]

unhinged caffeinated koby let him cook

[nnobodoodles]

Oh wow, I'm absolutely FLOORED by the response on my Strawhat Screenshot Redraws! Thank you so much, been reading all your lovely tags and smiling SO much!! 💖

Here's Part 2 with requests from Insta plus some. Let me know if there's someone else you'd like to see!

[blednokrov]

Pretty much all of girlpiece art I've made so far in one post (more is to come!!!)

[innerfare]

Blowjobs 

Summary: What are they like when you go down on them?

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // blowjobs

——— 

Luffy: Goes a little crazy when you wrap your lips around him, moaning and groaning, his voice extra raspy, can’t stand it when you tease him. And he counts anything to do with his balls as teasing because they're so sensitive. "That's not fair!" He’ll grab your hair to control the pace, pulling your mouth up and down his throbbing cock. Doesn’t mean to be such a control freak, just can’t help himself. He’s so fucking greedy, it’s unreal. Never cums from a blowjob anywhere but in your mouth, and he really wants you to swallow. His favorite thing in the world is when his cum spills out of your mouth and you need a little help cleaning it up. He’ll swipe his thumb across your chin and chuckle when you suck the cum from his finger. This will probably lead to a second blowjob (multiples are not unusual with this man), probably with the two of you 69ing. 

Zoro: Lays back with his hands behind his head and his legs sprawled out, ready to watch you go down on him. So smug, smirks and goads you into taking more of him into your mouth until you’re choking on his length, then pokes fun at you for taking on more than you can handle. "What's wrong? Is daddy's cock too much for your princess mouth? You said you could handle it." You taking more of him into your mouth than you can handle and choking a little is definitely his favorite part. When he’s not teasing you, he’s watching you like a hawk, pushing his hips up a little to get himself deeper down your throat. Is actually really good at holding back his orgasm, which is good because he wants you to go down on him for a while but he also wants to cum inside you, so once your jaw is locked and cramping, he’ll pin you beneath him and fuck his cum into you. 

Sanji: Also ends up fucking you after a blowjob, but not because he can last for a very long time. Rather, it’s because he can get hard again so fast, almost as soon as his orgasm is finished. So, after you’ve wrapped your lips and hands around his length and drained his first load out of him, he’s pushing you onto your back and rutting his hips against yours. His favorite part is when you suck on his balls, but you have to be careful doing this because he’ll cum almost instantly from it; he’s cum in your hair countless times, most of them because you were sucking on his balls. If you’re going to do this, it’s better to do it toward the beginning. Oh, and when you’re finished, he’s eager to kiss you on the mouth, deep but short kisses. He’ll thank you so many times, too. "You did such a good job, babygirl. I love you so much."

Ace: He enjoys when you politely ask him if you can suck his cock. He’s surprisingly restrained as you lick up and down his length, looking up at him with your doe eyes. He’ll bite his bottom lip and rub a hand up and down his muscular chest and abdomen, the other resting on your head as it bobs up and down. He might buck his hips a little bit, but he won’t fuck your face; doesn’t think it’s hot when you choke, actually hates it. He’ll stroke your hair and groan a bit, his voice extra deep, and swear when he cums. “That’s my girl. You're mine, all fucking mine. Nobody else gets to feel your lips around their cock.” And his favorite part, perhaps one of his favorite things in the entire world, is cumming on your face. He doesn’t mean anything disrespectful by it, doesn’t even view it as dominating you in any way. It’s actually a soft gesture when he does. He just thinks you look so pretty with his cum on your face, and it makes him feel so loved that you enjoy his cum so much. 

Sabo: He can be a sadistic prick and mischievous little demon when the two of you are behind closed doors, but all that melts away when you have his pretty cock in your mouth. As soon as your head is between his legs, he turns into a whining mess (baby boy Sabo, uwu), subduing him such that you have a hard time believing this was the same man who just had you bent over his knee. His favorite part are those sweet kisses you place on his balls before you work your way up the length and lick the tip like a lollipop. Likes to watch you but usually doesn’t because it makes him cum so quickly and he wants to enjoy the blowjob a little longer. "Please don't make me cum yet. Feels so fucking good." He doesn’t really have a favorite place to cum. Or rather, he goes through phases. He likes switching it up a lot and enjoys when you ask him where he wants to cum (you deferring to him at the end makes him feel a little better about turning into putty in your hands). 

Law: Please let him cum in your mouth. Please, please, please. He might even say please, which is a pretty big deal for a man like Trafalgar Law. "You know I like it, why do you keep making me say it?" So annoyed at you, but all that goes away when he cums and you open your mouth to show him his cum before swallowing. Was actually hesitant to let you suck him off at first because he felt like he was giving up control. Allowing you to pleasure him was difficult, struck by the fear of letting himself get lost in your touch and doing something embarrassing like whining, but he didn’t hold out for very long, and his resolve to only allow you to do it only on occasion collapsed entirely after the first time you swallowed his cum. He tries to stay quiet while you suck his cock, but he’ll grunt if you hum or moan with him in your mouth; he’s definitely whimpered before, though he’ll never admit it. He usually screws his eyes shut and tries to keep himself from coming undone entirely. His favorite part is when you lick your lips afterward, like it was a treat for you, too. 

Kid: Basically can’t function without a blowjob. That being said, he understands that a man of his size can be difficult to suck off, so he’s very patient. The bully you often have sex with rarely, if ever, makes an appearance when you’re going down on him. He’ll stroke your hair and offer you sweet words of encouragement, biting back a devilish grin when you choke on his length. “I know it’s big, but you can handle it. Nice and slow, just like that. Make sure to breathe.” He’ll even help you out by stroking his cock or playing with his balls. His eyes are glued to you the entire time for fear he’ll miss his favorite part: when you tear up a little bit. He’s happy to cum anywhere, but your chest is by far his favorite place. You learn quickly to take your shirt off when you go down on him because he won’t aim away, even if you’re wearing a new top or have somewhere to be afterward. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[getsilly]

What u thinking about

[kkoct-ik]

hermit+ pairing request doodle dump of varying quality

from top to bottom: grumbo, treebark, pearl/cleo, scardubs x3, mumbo/cub, (treebark)

[chocolilies]

─── messy sheets. ꒱

( ୨ৎ. roronoa zoro x fem!reader. . .ᐟ

one of zoro's many favourite things about dating you is how you pick up on each other's mannerisms.

◟ꪆ୧ nsfw (afab!reader, thigh riding, groping, fingering) porn with a tiny bit of plot, though the plot is mostly fluffy! based on this request! spreading my titty fiend!zoro agenda... reblogs and comments are appreciated a lot!! (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾∇⁠＾) !

w.c : 3.2k.

also on ao3 + op masterlist !

“don’t ever come back here again!”

“you don't own the ship, asshole! I'll go wherever I want!”

dodging a kitchen knife, zoro slammed the door to the galley shut, stomping down the corridor as anger seethed through him. 

“can’t even get a drink in peace,” zoro growled as he clutched at one of his swords, pushing open the door to your room, having half the mind to turn back around and slice the cook up a bit until he set eyes on your bed. 

he found you sprawled out horizontally over the covers, one of his too-big-for-you shirts pulled over your sleeping body, head falling off of one of the pillows, while you hugged the other tight against your chest. 

now, one thing zoro loved about dating you was seeing just how much you influenced each other. 

when you’d both first joined luffy’s crew, you’d snap and whine at him for napping at the most random intervals of time, kicking him awake or simply complaining very loudly with nami about how he used his free time, driving the swordsman up the walls. 

yet after all that time spent grumbling about his sleeping habits before you’d gotten together (and maybe a bit more after that), here you were. messily spread out on your shared bed with drool running down your chin, taking one of those naps you once objected so much against. 

he held in a laugh, his tiff with the cook fizzling away in his mind as he took in your sleeping figure, the light from the afternoon sun shining into the room and hitting you in an almost angelic way, which for zoro, you were nothing but. 

he carefully propped up his swords against the wall, shaking his shoes off before silently moving towards what you’d both silently agreed on was his side of the bed, though thanks to the way you had moved around in your bed, were now occupied by your bare legs. 

zoro had once heard about how you moved around a lot during your sleep, having heard nami’s complaints about your sleepy kicks or slaps back when you used to share a bed with her, always laughing loudly at the way you would shy away from her in embarrassment, unaware of how squirmy you were asleep. 

surprisingly enough, though, the moment you started to sleep alongside zoro, you stopped moving. maybe it was because of his incredible pain tolerance (since one slap from you would hardly register as painful) that your movements didn’t stir him awake, or maybe it was because of the unyielding grip he had on you the moment his arms found your wriggly body. 

he found it hilarious that it was the latter. 

zoro carefully took both of your ankles in one hand, pushing your legs and subsequently moving your body so you were lying in a more “appropriate” manner, though considering the many times he’d ended up horizontal on a bed, he shouldn't really be judging. 

once he’d made enough space for himself, he let go, kneeling on the mattress before pulling his shirt and haramaki off, polloping himself down on the bed as soon as he’d flung them across the room (something he knew he’d get reprimanded for later).

a grunt left him as he tried to get comfortable, arms immediately spread out instinctively to find your body, wrapping them around your waist and dragging you across the already messy covers into his chest. 

you let out a whine as the rough movements forced you to let go of the pillow you’d been cuddling, though seemed to immediately calm down once you subconsciously realised whose arms you were now in. 

“messy girl,” zoro murmured as he looked around the state your bed’s covers were in after what he assumed had been less than an hour (he clearly recalled you screaming at luffy for something or other a bit before he’d wandered into the kitchen), craning his head so he could press a sloppy kiss against your cheek. “mean, too. napping without me…”

he adjusted the arm underneath you so it was right against your neck, not wanting for you to grow uncomfortable with it digging into your waist, watching as you immediately rested your head against his warm bicep, letting out a soft noise of content. 

his other arm, though, had completely other plans. he moved it from its place around your waist, dragging his hand underneath the oversized shirt of his you’d stolen, placing his warm palm right above the elastic band of your panties, chuckling as your body shivered in response. 

one thing you'd quickly learned about zoro the moment you'd started dating was that he loved your tits. 

he'd once “joked” about throwing all of your bras overboard one day in which you'd walked out of your room without one, eyes trained to your chest each time you walked by, not shying away from showing his attraction to you in that state, though you (and everyone else who had heard his proclamation) knew he was fully capable of doing it. 

zoro's hands were on you every chance you got, taking your tits into his hands and squeezing like they were stress balls, thumb and index slowly working on your pebbling nipples, chin perched on your shoulder and just watching, never making a sound except for the sighs or grunts that would leave him in response to your own whimpering noises. 

sometimes it wasn't even sexual. sometimes he just found comfort in groping you, playing with the flesh as you say in his lap working on something or as a stress reliever after a particularly gruelling battle. 

this, he thought as slid one of his legs between yours, was not one of those times. 

zoro leaned down to press kisses to the exposed skin of your shoulder, leading a trail right up to the spot behind your ear, smirking as you shivered in response to the soft blow of air from his breathing. 

“...’ro.” you mumbled sleepily, hand moving to cover the one that had started playing with your tummy, stirring awake due to his movements, completely different to how zoro could sleep through wars if he wished to. 

“mornin’,” he joked breathlessly into your ear, deciding to continue teasing as he nibbled at your ear lobe, making you squeak and try to move away. “hey, hey, stop moving.” 

“stop bitin’!” you slurred out tiredly, swatting at his face with a huff, knowing it was probably pulled into an annoyingly smug look. 

“can't… ‘specially not when you look this cute in my shirt, all sleepy…” 

“you get turned on by the weirdest things…” you groaned, already feeling his hand start to move up your abdomen, going directly towards his two favourite things. 

his teeth immediately sunk into your neck in response to your little insult, taking advantage of your body's natural reaction to the pain to finally grab at your tits, tugging at your nipple almost immediately, his other arm moving from the position he'd previously put it in to grab at your other tit, not wanting to leave out any of your two girls.

“you’re so pervy, zo… y’re no better than-” your words were cut off as you moaned out in surprise at the immediate attack on your slowly pebbling nipples, the action sending shockwaves through your body, arms lying stiff at your side as you tried to decide what do with your hands, teasing words fizzling away in your mind, too busy enjoying the way your boyfriend was massaging your chest. 

“don't.” zoro growled into your ear with a pinch to your nipples, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth at the little retaliation, knowing full well what was about to leave your mouth, not wanting to think about the perv-cook when he was in the middle of playing with his girl's tits. 

“m-meanie…” you gasped, back arching at the slight pain that accompanied the pleasure that rushed through your body at his actions, feeling the leg that he'd slipped between your own start to move, the coarse material of his trousers along with the pressure of his thigh pressing tight against your panty-clad core. 

“yeah? ‘m just a big meanie?” zoro grunted, licking at the spot he'd previously sunk his teeth in, slowly but surely moving his thigh back and forth, loving the way your tiny frame jumped and shivered at every stimulation he gave. 

“y-yeah-” breathlessly, you started to move down to meet the movements of his stiff thigh, muscles rippling between your legs despite the little effort it took for him to move like this in comparison to you, who was already growing tired from the constant movements without the help like you usually had. 

“this is me being nice,” he licked a stripe up your neck to the spot behind your ear, where he pressed a very uncharacteristically sweet kiss to, your mind flowing with confusion as to how he could focus on kissing, groping and grinding into you all at once. 

well, considering you were dealing with a man who fought with three swords, you shouldn't be surprised at his dexterity. 

each movement of his thigh against where you needed him most sent waves of pleasure through your tired body, and you could anxiously tell that you were leaving a damp spot on his trousers by the way you were dripping, your boyfriend's ministrations enough to get your pussy soaked. 

it also didn't help that each time he pulled his leg forward, his knee would bump against your already throbbing clit, sending shockwaves up your spine and forcing whines out of your wet lips, saliva pooling in your mouth and threatening to slide down your chin like it previously had been doing during your nap. 

“y’really don't want me to be mean,” he taunted, leaving more kisses across the expanse of skin his too-big shirt exposed for him to touch, fingers letting go of your already abused nipples, a sigh of relief leaving your parted lips at that, focusing instead on groping at the rest.

at your lack of response, zoro grinned, basking in the sounds you were making before he slid his leg out of yours, not missing the way they immediately tried to press down onto it, a horrified sound leaving you at the sudden lack of pleasure. 

“z-zo!” you exclaimed, trying to turn around to look at him, but by the way he had you pressed tightly against, you found that movement to be impossible. “wh-what was that for?” 

your whines were music to his ears, ignoring the way you were squirming in his arms, though his hands continued to play with your tits. “what was what for?” 

he acted like he hadn't just put a pin in your pleasure, instead moving to grind his front against your backside, evidence of his growing pleasure pressing into your ass. 

“mean enough for you now?” 

you whined at his taunt, a gasp escaping you as one of his hands let go of your tits, confusion filling you as to what that lonely hand would be getting up to. 

“‘m sorry!” you whined, finding it slightly ridiculous that you were apologising for simply implying that your boyfriend was being mean, though you would've done anything to get that beautiful pleasure back. “please- please…” 

“please what?” you could hear the smirk in his voice, though by the way his hand was already trailing down your stomach towards your soaked cunt, you knew you wouldn't have to do any more begging except to please him. 

“touch- touch me, pleaseee…” you begged, even though his index and middle finger were already teasing the spot right above your clit, tracing the soft texture of your panties, trying to discern which pair you'd worn that day. 

“there's my girl.” he grinned, pride filling him up as he finally got that initial brattiness out of you, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek as his fingers went up to the elastic band of your underwear, reaching his hand under it and running over your pubic hair, fingers sliding right between your soppy folds. 

your breath hitched in your throat as he immediately found your tiny bundle of nerves, already an expert on how your body worked and what you needed from him, rubbing slow circles into it like he knew you liked, a sharp contrast to the way he'd previously been grinding his leg against it. 

your legs twitched with every movement, your pleasure picking up from where he'd left off, tummy growing warm as he toyed with you, and though you could feel yourself slowly making your way up to your orgasm, you knew zoro wouldn't let you cum just like that. 

“shit, she's a messy girl, jus’ listen to her…” he murmured, referring to the sounds your cunt was making with every move of his finger, adding a second one in hopes that the cacophony of sounds would increase. 

“don't teaseee…” you drawled out, lolling your head back against his shoulder as he peppered kisses all over you, sliding his fingers around the erogenous zones around your clit, sparking pleasure all over you. 

“‘m not teasing.” he grunted, his hips jerking slightly to make contact with your ass, rubbing his erection against you in tandem with his own fingers, though still completely zeroed in on your pleasure. “I jus’ know what she wants.” 

you puffed out your cheeks, though whatever you were about to snap back died in your throat as he finally slid his fingers down to your soaked entrance, teasingly running his fingers around the ring of muscles. 

“fuck, y’feel tight.” zoro groaned, the heel of his palm pressing right into your clit, stimulating your little nub with each twitch of his fingers. 

“gonna fuck me open?” you jeered, out of breath at the continuous amount of pleasure being forced onto your sleepy body, another wave of slick leaving your cunt at the thought of getting fucked. 

“fuck, I wish…” zoro rasped, cock twitching against your back at the shared idea, shaking his head slightly, too comfortable in this position to move around. “not today, though. ‘m just enjoying playing with your little cunt for now.”

he slipped his middle finger into your hole before you could even reply, though he knew you had no qualms with his reply, always admiring his hands and exclaiming how much you loved having them on your pussy. 

his finger immediately found your g-spot, arching it to rub against the spongy spot that made your toes curl, palm still grinding against your clit deliciously. 

“s-so good!” you cried out, one of your hands grabbing at the arm he'd shoved down your panties, nails digging into his tanned skin in pleasure, though no pain registered, too busy playing with your cunt to focus on it. 

“yeah? ‘course it is, it's me.” he said, ego inflating at his own words as you twitched in his arms, slipping another finger into your tight heat to join the attack on your g-spot, his other hand still playing with your tit, warm pleasure building up in your tummy as he worked you out. “‘know you better than anyone.” 

fuck, it almost pissed you off how right he was. 

“no one like me, right?” 

“no one!” you cried out on instinct, moving your hips in tandem with his hand, amplifying the rising pleasure and grinding back on his stiff cock at the same time. “only one for me, zo!”

“atta fucking girl.” he spat out, breathless from the possessive talk and the own pleasure that was rushing through his body, pre leaking from his tip and forming a wet patch against his trousers. “y’close?” 

“mhm!” you shook your head up and down aggressively, moans and whines tumbling out of your mouth as you neared your peak, hand pulling at zoro's arm to alert him of it and ask that- 

“I got you, don't worry.” he sighed, knowing what you wanted before you even said it out loud, pulling his fingers out of you with a loud squelch, pressing his wet fingers against your clit like you wanted and rubbing quick circles onto it, your legs shaking as your hips tried to keep up with the sudden switch in stimulation, though thankful for the help, as it was what you needed to get where you wanted to the most. 

“fu-fuck, zoro! m’so close!” 

zoro knew what that meant. already too familiar with your body and your needs, he knew that that meant to continue whatever he was doing. not to speed up, not to slow down, not to switch techniques, just keep doing what was making his girl scream. 

“it's okay, I got you,” he almost purred, grip tightening on your tit as his hips jutted out to search for stimulation on his leaking cock, although he knew he'd probably be able to cum just by witnessing your orgasm alone. 

“oh god, oh god-” zoro grunted at your words, knowing that he'd usually let out a teasing ‘god’s not fucking you this good, baby’, at your whiny words, smirking as you immediately changed your tune. “zoro! oh, zoro, zoro!

your mouth flew open in a silent scream as you finally reached your peak, riding out your orgasm with help of zoro's fingers, that were quickly covered in slick by the way you'd came, soaking both his hand and your panties, probably even leaking onto the already messy covers. 

you whined as the hand that had been groping you moved to grab at your neck, moving your head painfully to a side so zoro could slot his lips against yours, drinking up your moans and whimpers as you swapped spit, eyes wide open and taking in the way you were falling apart on his fingers. 

you quickly found yourself twitching in overestimation once your orgasm washed away, whining into zoro's mouth, a telltale sign to slowly stop his ministrations. 

“hey, hey…” he shushed you as he leaned back, letting you lie down properly as he propped himself up on the bed, watching you shiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm as he pulled his fingers back from your perky clit, leaning back down quickly to press a kiss between your furrowed brows. “y’okay?” 

you hummed in response, cracking your eyes open to take a look at your grinning boyfriend, his face flushed and sweaty as his chest rose and fell with each quick breath, almost like he'd- 

“zo, just by-?”

“just by seeing you, yeah.” he exhaled, eyes flicking down to his bulge, cock softening against his trousers as he himself came down from his high, bringing the fingers he'd used on you up to his mouth and licking them clean, eyes darting around the room as if he wasn't in the middle of licking your juices off his fingers. 

“don't goooooo…” you whined, knowing he was probably looking for the closest thing he could use to clean you up, much rather preferring cuddles with your boyfriend to a dry cunt. 

you outstretched your arms out to him and made grabby hands, watching as he grinned in response to your need actions, landing on top of you with a grunt and resting his head right on the tits he'd previously been attacking. 

“brute!” you gasped, hands finding solace in his hair and running through his green strands, pouting down at your boyfriend. 

“mmm… next time don't let me suck your tits, unless you wanna see a real brute.” 

[miyuskye]

Oda: draws a funny roger pic

one of his assistants probably: ok i'm gonna make this about shanks and buggy instead

[herzzgeist]

Hii Emi! It's me again and if you're up to i have another request! Obv a Law x yn where yn joined the heart pirates only two months ago and she is pretty shy and always worried to not be helpful to the crew. Law takes pity out of her of how cute she looks but what hits his heart is how kind and gentle this girl is and that makes Law slightly worried because he knows something is different and he cannot let himself fall in love because he needs to avenge Corazon

Pairing: Law x Cute fem!reader | Word count: 1.9k | Warnings: None

Synopsis: Welcome aboard the Polar Tang, (Y/n)! The Heart pirates took you in with open arms without regret to this day. You are one of the kindest and most gentle people the crew ever faced, growing fond of your sweet and humble behaviour. Over time, Law takes notice of your modesty and fights against his own emotions you awaken in him, before they become too much to handle. Is a dark and sinister man such as him actually able to develop romantic feelings? He highly doubts it. Yet so he thought.

A/N: Kurage! Of course I'm up for it! It's Law we're talking about ఌ Avast, another fluffy OneShot, thank you for the request dear! (Sorry it took a bit longer, I was on holiday) Hope you like it!

Dividers by cafekitsune ~

„Hey (Y/n), could you grab me the tool kit from the boilers below? I must‘ve forgotten it down there.“ - „Sure thing Uni!“, as one of the newest crew members of the Heart pirates, you‘re highly determined to be of support wherever you‘re able.

Since two months aboard the Polar Tang, you learned rather quickly how kind and contributory Trafalgar‘s bunch is. Safe to say, you‘ve grown fond of them and vice versa.

They appreciate your zeal, though you do not possess the ability or skill to know the ropes around the submarine, so the mechanics assign you to simple tasks.

Besides sweating in the sub‘s belly, doing mechanical works, kitchen and laundry duty are also a great way to warm up to the general feel of being part of a crew.

After a quite dramatic rescue, where Law saved you from slave drivers, you can‘t rid the sentiment of the Surgeon of Death behaving hostile towards you.

Of course he is known for his aloof and petulant manner, but you start to recognise certain differencies in his conversations between you compared to other members.

If you ever talk to eachother that is, for it being a rare occasion. It honestly is a shame. There is still so much you want to say, so much you want to ask, yet he avoids you as soon as you enter the frame, walking a B-line to his office.

Don't get him wrong though, Law sees you, oh and how he does. The way you talk, how you behave and hold yourself. Not just captivated by your sweet and adorable appearance, it is your whole demeanor, your big heart he had the chance to behold the past two months.

This is bad, beyond grave. There is no way he actually likes yo-

Absolutely not. Everytime he passes by you, these thoughts intrude his very being, it is then where he's ought to better ignore or run from those feelings, before anything unpredictable happens. Or did it happen already?

To you, the question still remains, have you done something wrong? Aren’t you working hard enough? Whatever it is, you struggle to find the reason behind his mysterious attitude. Be that as it may, you make it your goal to reach your Captain with hard work, rather than straight up walking up to him and find a conversation.

And today is one of those days where you can prove it, to earn your superior’s attention. The Polar Tang docked at an abandoned isle floating somewhere among the waters of the Grand Line. To Law’s calculations, there is an estimated poneglyph hiding on this island. Thus the Heart pirates prepare for a day out in the field, exploring the jungles and noting everything suspicious or fascinating regarding the void century’s history.

At the coast, everybody gathers before proceeding into the thicket. The Captain calls out: “Keep your baby snail transponders ready at all times. If you detect anything remarkable, give me a call immediately.” All confirm his command with a booming ‘Aye’ and thrust their fists into the air, to commence the expedition in brimming motivation. Split up in parties, the groups divide and go seperate ways for a more efficient search.

You follow one team and hold out for mystery. The snail in your hands oogles you, it’s eyes slightly uncanny and bizarre. Yet, the resemblece to Law is immaculate. The already mentioned eyes faintly squinted in an exhausted manner, with dark circles underneath, the white fluffy hat and of course the goatee. It’s almost too accurate. Concentrating on the path before you, you take a good look around.

But to your foolhardy day dreaming, you now walk alone. Where are the others? In panic your gaze scans the area, worried you might not even find your way back to the Polar Tang. How long were you in dream land, (Y/n)? Anyway, you are on a quest, therefore you are tremendously firm about your decision to make your Captain proud.

May sound easier than done, for you tread through the dark and sinister parts of the jungle, feeling cold and uneasy as you hear an alarming rustling very near you. So you pick up the pace, close to running through the lush green thicket, almost toppling over your own feet. Anxiety fuels you with energy, motivating you to rush further into the forest’s heart.

The sun’s rays fade the deeper you go and finally you come to a stop, even unable to see your own hand before you. “Shit, where am I?”, you utter lowly to yourself, scared you might have ran a tad bit too far. A sharp and stinging spark in the distance blinds you. Curiosity gets the better of you, now following the only source of light.

Slowly approaching the inexplicable in front of you, the blinding fortunately ceased and you recognise a golden orb with strange embellishment, if you wouldn't know any better it looks close to a map, deeply engraved into the material.

Like a moth to the flame, you hold out your hand to grasp the devious object. However, before you can sling your fingers around it, the ball disappears and gets replaced with: "A rock? What the-" - "Don't just randomly grab a possible relic, (Y/n)-ya . ."

Surprised, you let off a small squeak and immediately turn around to find yourself cowering away from none other than your Captain, who's brows furrow at you in annoyance.

With the orb in hand, he steps even closer to you, condescendence lifting his gaze as he rumbles: "And by the by, you're supposed to be with the others."

"I lost track of them, so I went on my own.", explaining yourself with an ever growing pout, your shoulders droop in ebarrassment. Quick to throw another question, a frown pushes the corners of Law's lips down: "Why did you run further into the jungle so absentmindedly? You should have called me."

In protest, you point out that your mindless flight response wasn't for naught, implying to show Law your capability by finding this golden ball, but he doesn't give in regarding that matter. All he deftly oversees and only tells you off.

Whose fault was it though? Hiding in the bushes, observing helpless and frightened little you, not able to stay quiet? Trafalgar Law sure doesn't fit the role as a ninja, at least not today.

"Listen (Y/n)-ya, a woman like you can't just wander around in unknown territory, practically diving into danger.", he lectures you with a sour tone in his raspy voice.

Shit, is what goes through Law's mind, as he realises what slipped out of him. Aware how to misunderstand his haughty opinion, he attempts to keep it together. It is incredibely difficult for him to stay focused around you. Why? Oh how he wishes he could just rush back to his office.

Something bugs you, why did he describe you as 'a woman like you'? Thoughts spin in your head and you twiddle your thumbs and twirl a strand of your hair in insecurity. Thus you muster up the courage to ask for the Captain to clarify what he means by that bold statement.

How much it takes out of him to keep his poise. Could you stop playing with this poor man's emotions? They're barely existant in the first place and you decide to pull his heart strings like that?

Indifferent as possible, Law blinks, time seemingly slowing down around you, for he takes a felt like eternity to answer. And finally he clears it up, shifting nervously in place: "Isn't it obvious? You are . . fragile, delicate even and new to piracy. Don't take life as a pirate too lightly, that is all I'm trying to say."

In strain, you contain yourself not to snap at your superior, so you out your concern: "Are you saying I'm not capable?" - "That's not what I said. I simply indicated, that you are too much of an amateur and could get seriously hurt, if you lack the vigilance. Other pirates might take advantage of your kindness and . ."

The Captain stops mid sentence, choking on a word that almost escaped his oddly dry lips. You tilt your head in curiosity: "And?"

A sweat drop builds on his temple. It just wouldn't cross his mind, why you are being so troublesome? Shaking his head infuriatingly, he mumbles: "N-Nothing. Let's just go."

Abruptly grabbing your hand, he pulls you along, leading you out of the dark parts of the jungle. Muttering his dissatisfaction and curses in disbelief, he stops, the both of you returned to the stone path.

Though his slender hands seem rough and calloused, you are surprised by the gentle and warm touch of his skin. Even after all those tough battles he fought, all the operations he performed, his digits carefully intertwine with yours, almost scared to crush you.

So he turns around to face you and commands you harshly: "Go back to the sub, just follow back this way and you'll be there in no time." - "Aye, Captain."

Law detects a tinge of shame and disappointment in your expression. How come his heart cannot stop beating out of his chest, as he speaks: "Before you go . . you . . did a good job, finding this artifact, it's a rather important object at that. So, well done."

Did your hearing falter? Your Captain just praised you! Out of joy you flash him a smile, showing him gratitude with a subtle nod and a small hum.

The brim of Law's hat casts a shadow over his face, making it impossible for you to see his blush that is being withheld from you.

After a good minute, you two come to realise, that you are still holding hands. "Umm, Captain? Could you-", you point out with a shy chuckle and Law basically yanks his arm away in a rash move, almost a tad bit too obvious, even to you.

In irk, he shoos you: "Just go already! I have other things I must attend to!" With his jaw tensing by the sight of you playfully rolling your eyes and going about your way, he clicks his tongue and continues the path ahead of him.

One last look over his shoulder, glancing at your delicate frame in the distance, once more the beat of his heart waivers. Truly, there is a certain appeal to you he wishes to familiarise further, nevertheless, he must not.

After all, Law has a goal, his mind is set, determined to avenge Corazon. It takes his all to commit to this plan, hence there is no space . . for love? Confliction restricts the Surgeon of Death's tunnel vision, professionalism slowly but surely fading by your 'intrusion'.

He must admit, he's fighting the urge to give in to your sweetness, surrender to his own emotions towards you. You peak his interest, though to his momentary disapproval.

But what if he is able to fulfill his wish? When the world finally reaches it's well deserved state of peace and freedom. Will he earn your attention, your affection?

What if . .

[wtfforged]

i think about this one piece party panel so often i wanted to draw it

the panel ⤵️

[moonydustx]

Thought for the day - I believe there are two types of boys in One Piece in their relationships with girls, let me explain.

There are those where, outsiders, would never say that the two of you are in a relationship. You walk steps apart, exchanging only the essentials of words between you. However, anyone who looked closely could see that many times, some favors were done just for you, that his eyes always seemed to follow you at every step, protecting you even from afar. It was the type of situation in which the person who dared to mess with you would barely know where the blow would come from. However, when the two of you are alone, prepare for a clingy pair. He loves to make up for all the moments away when it's just the two of you - he holds you in bed for a few more minutes, stealing several kisses before facing the reality of the day, he always offers to accompany you on your explorations, just so he can drag you to hidden places in the city and enjoy the time alone, he will love you (aka fuck) as if that were the last night he would have you in their bed, after all, the next day, you both would just be crewmates again.

Law, Zoro, Marco, Killer, Katakuri, Mihawk, Smoker, Rob Lucci, Sabo (u can't tell me this loverboy wouldn't be the clingest guy in the alone time)

These people practically have your name tied to their existence. He don't exist without remembering your name immediately, accompanied by a smile, after all, anyone who saw - even if they didn't know you two - would know that you were made for each other - even if you are copies of each other's personality or are completely the opposite - you spark something in him that is sharp. They are super protective, yes, but they don't need to worry about following you far away, they know that no one would have enough balls to mess with his girl. Whenever they got into trouble, they immediately asked you for help after all you were one of the people he trusted most. With everyone already knowing about the two of you, he didn't need to make an effort to hide something, whether when he walked hand in hand with you, when he took the lead and asked who dared to interfere with their partner, or when they took advantage of any time free to love you (again, aka fuck) in a messy way, leaving marks and not sparing the noise. After all, everyone already knew that you belonged together.

Luffy, Crocodile, Ace, Kid, Sanji, Katakuri (he can be both versions, I'm sorry whoever disagrees), Franky, Shanks, Rayleigh, Buggy, Sabo (again, this sweetie fits for any side here)

-

a/n: I don't think anyone was missing, but if you have any suggestions, feel free to leave them here

[sordidmusings]

jealousy headcanons and scenarios r my kryptonite! especially for emotionally constipated characters lol. for shanks, mihawk, and crocodile seeing their crush interacting with someone that turns out to be said crush's ex? there's chemistry between the exes and are those lingering looks he's seeing?! 🫢

OOOOOOOO GOOD CHOICES GOOD CHOICES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I must say I am weak for some jealousy too 💀 why does it have to be so hot in fiction huh??? Or make me feel wanted????? Rude 😤

Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡

Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile

Your ex comes back into your life and stirs up some feelings - How are these men taking it?

Form this took: started as a bulleted headcanons but then became a scenario/ficlet for each ahsdjajskdajs

Word count: Shanks - 1.1 k, Mihawk - 1.2 k, Croc - 1.2 k

Shanks

The clinging and diverting type

This mf tries to be sneaky about it

Key word: tries

It’s no secret that Shanks is the jovial sort and that his welcome and cheer extend easily to newcomers. However, something curious happens when the next one joins your large table.

You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed. You catch yourself and relax back into your usual posture, but Shanks knows you well enough to see there’s a posed touch to all your expressions. It tames them from the genuine displays of your thoughts and emotions that Shanks so loves into something more suited to a diplomat seeking favor. Now that had him wary.

It took no genius to notice that each time a great laugh broke out your eyes would sweep to that newcomer to take them in, or how your would flicker your gaze over to them every time you had the spotlight, as if seeking approval.

Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case

Driven to seek comfort in your presence, Shanks leans into his affectionate nature to keep close to you. You can’t think too long on someone else with him constantly leaning into your space to whisper dumb jokes and silly observations. He made those laughs and he gets to enjoy them up close and personal. You may look to others but you always look back to him when he ventures to lay his hand on your shoulder or hand or thigh and give a happy, hearty squeeze before retreating. He relishes in the fact that you had been uncertain of his touch when you first met yet now you trust and even welcome his hand on you.

Shanks is burst right out of his bubble of avoidance when you suddenly jolt and sit straight, separating yourself from his side.

The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer. The newcomer, who is leaning in so close to you. The newcomer, who now has all of your attention. The newcomer, who is giving you a smile that Shanks very much does not like. It’s very charming and holds a twinge of remorse that Shanks knows from experience would strike straight and true right to your heart

“I’m glad to see you in happier times. You look good,” they have the audacity to say, the words even seeping with honesty. Shanks isn't sure he focused on anything in his life as hard as he does on your reaction in this moment.

Your smile is breathtaking, one he isn't sure he’s seen before, all affection and understanding and a dusting of yearning. It turns his heart to goo right before it clamps it tight and squeezes, because that smile isn't for him. He needs that smile to be for him. His mouth is moving before the thought even sinks in.

“We do like to keep things cheerful here!” Shanks chuckles to the newcomer. He turns to you, making sure to catch your eye. “Life’s too short to anchor yourself to your sorrows.” Now back to the newcomer. “And this one-” an arm slips around your shoulders, hugging you to his warm side, “-helps keep it that way.”

The smile you give him isn’t quite as overflowing with emotion as the one you gave the newcomer, but he loves it all the same.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it and the newcomer actually sits down on your other side and insists on catching up. Shanks is a damn charmer though, and he knows it, so he’s not one to give up on keeping your attention through the night.

He stays in the conversation easily, not deterred by the newcomer outsider bringing up shared memories with you, even though they squeeze at his heart and lungs tighter and tighter. He uses it to get to know more of you, a part of him truly enjoying the new insights. However, a much larger part is simply set on keeping the reminiscing light instead of romantically charged.

As the time and drinks flow, his and the outsider's tactics get more obvious yet you get more oblivious, simply cruising on the comfy fuzz everything had taken on and enjoying the company. Your unintentional refusal to pick a favorite has both of them getting desperate and daring.

Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched

By the end of the night you’re wearing Shanks like a perfume, he’s stuck to your skin at the heart of your body, chest always tight to your back or side, chin often hooked over your shoulder or on top of your head. His slight scruff tickling at your ear when he moves and talks is exceedingly distracting. So is the softness of his hair on your neck when he turns his head to bed his cheek into your shoulder and pull you a little tighter to him, saying its just 'cause he's a little sleepy and trying to get comfy. He unearths himself from his resting place only to seek it again every few minutes.

His arm is always around you when he wasn’t using it to drink (of course) or toy with you - tugging at your clothes for attention, tickling your sides to interrupt you, sweetly scratching your scalp to derail your train of thought, teasingly rubbing a thumb into your hip or thigh to feel you squirm.

Shanks is a handsy motherfucker (ironic right-), so you don’t take any of this as a proclamation of his love. The most you think is that it has just hit that point in your journey together where his vast appetite for partners has finally swept its way to focus on you.

You end the night giggling the whole stumbling way back to the ship, tucked into Shanks’ side. You manage to stay there despite being at the mercy of both of your swaying, constantly blending who’s supporting and who’s slipping. Your ex is far from your mind when Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).

Shanks does however have a flash of your ex in his mind when he's happily gloating to himself that he had won.

His last blurry thoughts are of how to make sure you and everyone else unquestionably knows that you are off limits. The unspoken claim understood by the crew while he works at winning you over doesn't seem to be enough anymore. Especially if that pesky ex comes sniffing around again. Maybe they just need a lesson in what staring down Conqueror’s Haki truly feels like.

Mihawk

The intimidating and biting type

Mihawk would likely be the most covert of these three, at least as far as your notice goes

Your ex has no questions about Mihawk’s dislike for them. With his reputation as emotionless and solitary, it’s not guaranteed that your ex will put two and two together to realize that Mihawk's dislike stems from their previous relationship with you. Even if Mihawk hints at it, they'll tell themselves that they're imagining things. It’s much more likely that they’ll think it’s because Mihawk is that way with all but the Few Exceptions, and they have definitely not made the cut.

It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine

Mihawk is already unhappy to see a marine on his doorstep, no doubt sent to yip at him about some nonsense or other that the admirals were in a twist over. That unhappiness quadruples when he hears you tentatively call to this marine by name, and then it multiplies again when the marine responds by breathing out your own name with shock and hope

This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly

Yet he can't bring himself to simply throw them out when you come over so disgustingly happy to see them. There were a few times where he'd interrupted or snuffed out your joy while adjusting to you joining his home, and he found the feeling it gave him insufferable. That's what forces him to let the pest in and guide them with you to the smaller dining room.

He’d simply have to find what the pest needs fast and expedite whatever catching up you two apparently must do.

That's easier said than done; you and the pest are insistent on taking time between flustered pleasantries to share uncertain smiles and lingering looks of longing in charged silence.

It's giving him the worst mood he'd had in years.

At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he's capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair. Both make the pest cringe and shy away, but the chance to gain your favor makes them push through it. Even though he hates it, Mihawk can't blame them.

Mihawk can tell that his mood is setting you on edge too - almost anyone would with the perturbed looks you've been sending his way - but that isn't technically taking your joy, so he doesn't back off.

In fact, he decides it's time to push even more.

He begins interjecting in your conversation, mostly with little insults to take the wind out of the pest's sails.

You aren't yet tipped off that there's something hiding behind his mood; he was never fond of braggarts so it isn't so out of the ordinary for him to humble someone. Of course, you wouldn't exactly call what your ex is doing "bragging" so much as filling you in on their growing career. They are actually relatively humble about it, clearly just excited to fill you in and not phrasing things to seek your praise.

Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.

Mihawk is not one to dish out praise. You've had to fight tooth and nail to get the mere drops of it you'd tasted so far, so his sudden highlighting of your positive traits trips your sensors. It isn't exactly alarm bells ringing, more it makes you feel like there's something you're missing. You figure it's the sudden disruption and old instincts from his Marine Hunter days cropping up.

You would have never guessed that his aim with his nitpicking and praising is to make sure your ex knows for a fact that you are out of their league. They don't deserve you. But he could.

No matter the reason though, you certainly relish in Mihawk calling you things such as "necessary for [his] castle", "smarter than those inane marine trials", "finally proficient and needing no distractions to ruin that", and "better company than a bunch of sea monkeys". Sure, from most anyone else they'd feel slightly insulting, but from everything you've so far seen of Mihawk that's a glowing review.

The uncanny nature of this whole interaction, from Mihawk's tank in mood to the sudden praise, keeps your focus away from your ever shrinking ex.

Mihawk is simply delighted to see your attention going to its rightful place, on him. You should be looking at him with such interest and joy. You should be seeking his approval; not some simpering swine's.

He figures he's been patient enough (it's been almost a whole ten minutes after all) and it is time to end this farce.

Mihawk stands from his spot and goes to sift through the wine rack. He returns with an above average vintage (even by his tastes) and two glasses. He sets them at the corner of the table so he can deftly open the wine. The silence as you both watch him work elates him.

The first glass is placed in front of his seat and swiftly filled. You watch the action with admiration for his fluid and confident motions. The pest watches with growing envy.

The second glass is filled while still sat in the corner, keeping its owner ambiguous.

The bottle leaves one hand and that glass enters the other, coming with Mihawk as he moves to stand behind your chair.

His full height set strongly in sharp shoulders and straight spine cuts a devilish figure behind you. Your ex's first impression was that he is haunting you, but there's some little whisper in their mind that, no, Mihawk is protecting you.

That whisper gets stronger as Mihawk leans forward over you, getting much too close to be polite while he places the wine glass down directly in front of you. His eyes hold the pest's with an air of warning the whole time.

Mihawk settles back upright, placing a hand on both carved corners decorating the back of your chair. The act seems clearly possessive. But surely Mihawk couldn't have found some special fondness for you?

You are none the wiser to Mihawk's antics behind you, too enraptured by the closeness of his reaching arm then too distracted checking out the color and aroma of your gifted wine.

Having at least enough pieces of a functional brain to pick up on that cue, the pest begins rushing out some excuses and makes to leave.

Kind as you are, you tell them they don't have to rush off, but they're adamant. You're a bit sad to see this chance meeting end so quickly, but your mind quickly settles on thinking it's for the best. Your memories of them are distant enough to be cherry picked and seeing them scamper off so easily reminds you that there are reasons you parted.

Mihawk chases escorts them out and returns to you looking much less belligerent and much more at ease. You figure it best to not risk ruining the positive turn by questioning it, yet you can't help but ask one thing.

"I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen's rack. What's the occasion?"

Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue.

"You've been good." Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, "I could give you more rewards."

Sir Crocodile

The assertive and analytical type

Despite Croc being a plotter, I see him as being quite direct in this situation

Ok yeah maybe he insists it’s because you can do better and you’re definitely above crawling back to an ex (“you broke up for a reason didn’t you?”)

But maybe he also takes this as his opportune moment to get you into his clutches.

Who could blame him when he feels the threat of such an unworthy little nobody working so hard to catch your eye.

Croc always keeps an eye on you, no matter what else demands his attention. Sure, there's an obsessive edge to it, but he just needs to know what you're up to - has to know you're safe near for when he needs you. You are the best assistant he's ever seen after all, and he's been through an army's worth. He's sure his new organization would've crumbled if you weren't there to balance out the clown and his circus monkeys constantly shooting themselves in the foot (sometimes literally).

Many of those circus monkeys were even stupid enough to try and approach you themselves. Luckily for him, you seem about as enthused on the idea of you having a partner as he is.

Which brings us back to his irritation that you haven't swatted that bug away from you. No, instead you seem to be rather tolerant of their buzzing. Maybe even fond.

That just won't do.

The crowds at this schmooze-fest, thrown to entice more pirates and criminals alike, part easily for his beeline to you.

It only irritates him even more that you don't notice him until you're swallowed by his shadow. You even have the audacity to look surprised when you turn to him.

And you truly are surprised - as far as you know there's no reason for Croc's usual grimace to turn into something so stormy, especially directed at you. It quickly jumps to your ex however and focuses that torrent there.

"I don't know you," Croc states gruffly.

"I'm-"

"Your name doesn't matter," Croc interrupts. "What do you do? Why are you here?"

And thus begins the interrogation. You can only watch perplexed as Sir Croc tugs every bit of information he could want out of your ex, making sure to cut off anything he didn't care to hear. That frustrated look and tone become more bored by the second. Every tone tells your ex that they're barely worth the breath to speak, causing them to shrink even faster than Sir Croc's anger did.

You catch their eye and send them a sympathetic smile, and then Croc moves on to you.

"And you," he starts roughly. He lets you sit in suspense while he drags those hooded purple eyes from the crown of your head to the toes of your shoes and back. "Why are you here?"

You're taken absolutely aback by the question, mouth flapping from a mix of shock and offense. You have quite a list of things you keep your eye on at these parties; did he want you to go down the whole thing? After a deep breath, you try, "To gather informationof and from possible allies and help build relationships?"

"Wrong."

Well, at least he let you finish your sentence. Time to try again.

"To make sure the night runs smoothly," you say much more surely. It's an apt description of your overall job.

"Wrong again." Yep, that grimace is now definitely a smirk. One that only widens when you purse your lips and stare him down. You notice the genuine amusement shining in Croc's eyes and relax a touch, content to let him guide this to whatever destination he has planned.

"Then please, Sir, tell me," you relent. "Why am I here?"

He takes a deep puff of his cigar before pulling it from his lips and watching the smoke swirl out with his exhale. You watch it too - admire how handsome he looks reappearing through the haze. Enjoying how small you feel as he leans over you through its last remnants.

He rarely touches you with his golden hook, always using his hand (you've yet to realize it's because he prefers to feel you on his skin). Now, though, he raises it towards you. You're surprised yet again when the curve touches beneath your chin to tilt your face just a little higher; the metal isn't cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.

He takes his time assessing you, giving you your own time to look over his breathtakingly chiseled face, admire his striking scar, forget everything else but his eyes on you.

Without intention, you gravitate towards him, leaning forward enough into him and that golden hook drawing you that you have to catch yourself with a stumbling step. The fond chuckle he gives in response resonates deep and rich and feels like a reward flowing over you.

"You, my dear," Sir Crocodile says with unfamiliar mirth, "are here to keep me happy."

"And how would you like me to do that, Sir?" you whisper back.

At first, that just earns you a smile. Then he's drawing his hook along your jaw, tickling the tip around your ear, drawing it gently across your cheek. It ends its journey on your lips, ever so gently pulling your bottom lip down before letting it flick back up when he draws his arm away. You watch the glimmering gold retreat. He's greedy for more of the longing he sees in your eyes. He leans slightly lower and gives you back that hook, this time in the form of an offered arm.

"With your company, of course," He finally answers. The warmth you hear in the drawl of his voice is beautiful.

You slip your hand into the crook of his arm, happy you can feel his body heat through the soft fabric of his shirt.

Halfway back to his previous spot, you realize that you'd become so distracted that you hadn't even said goodbye to your ex. You had wanted to exchange numbers, maybe truly get back in touch and feel out if things would be better this time. Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.

"Did you see where they went?"

Croc has to hold in his smile at your question. "They scurried off on you. It's for the best though; they were exceedingly unimpressive."

You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.

After guiding you to your chair and pushing it in, Croc settles down himself. When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.

Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

There you are sweet anon, I hope you enjoyed and that it properly scratched the itch❣️ Thank you for the ask 🤍 Sending much love!!!

Part of a little celebration

[paperultra]

hammock.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Word Count: 866 words Warnings: Kissing, slightly suggestive

“You’re blushing.”

“I am?” Sanji gazes up at you, dreamy and distracted. “I didn’t realize.”

You hum. You’re only vaguely aware of the hammock’s sway, of the blanket slipping down your shoulders as you prop yourself up and place your hands on his cheeks. Warmth soaks into your palms like sunlight, and you tilt your head, thumbs drawing over the flush on his cheekbones and tapping gently.

“Don’t say this is because of me,” you tease.

His hands reach up to cover yours. “Then I’d be lying,” he replies, turning his head to kiss your fingertips, “and I would never lie about how you make me feel.”

“Not even if you hated me?”

“The day I hate you is the day I should be tied to an anchor and fed to the sharks.”

“That’s awful.”

“I know.” His eyes search your face, and they narrow as he murmurs, “Who could ever hate someone as gorgeous as you?”

(Whoever coined the phrase “flattery will get you nowhere” has never met Sanji, you’re sure of it.)

Leaning down, you press your lips to his nose, to his forehead, to each cheek. A contented sigh brushes past your ears as you do so.

Eventually, you make your way to the source of his sweet words. You pause, and Sanji opens his eyes as you hover above his lips, just shy of meeting them with your own.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say. “Just wanted to see your pretty eyes before I kiss you senseless.”

He stills. Then he laughs, the sound blooming from deep within his chest and staining your world with gold. “Well – aren’t you a charmer,” Sanji quips, stroking your waist and pecking your cheek. His words are softer than usual. “Careful with my heart, now.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, and you kiss him fully, drinking in the way his grip on you tightens and the way his breath stalls in his throat when you speak against his mouth. “It’s in good hands, I think.”

The kiss is just as warm as his cheeks. You feel drunk as you pull away, and Sanji lifts his head to chase your lips, whispering your name with the reverence of a believer.

“You guys mind doing that somewhere other than here?”

The two of you freeze in each other’s embrace.

You jolt out of it and push yourself up, accidentally knocking the breath out of Sanji in the process. He wheezes and curls up as you lock eyes with a very unimpressed swordsman.

“Z-Zoro! We”—you scramble to unrumple your shirt, which had ridden up underneath the blanket—“I’m sorry, we – we thought everyone was going to be in the lounge for a while.”

“You thought wrong.” Zoro strides past and drops his laundry on the couch. “This isn’t your personal bedroom, Sanji.”

“I’m aware of that,” Sanji replies, annoyance dripping from every syllable. “Now would you mind just stepping out for a few more minutes?”

“Sanji, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting his chest. “The mood is kinda killed now, anyway.”

He visibly droops. “I know.”

“Good.”

“I wasn’t asking for your opinion, mosshead.”

The room fills with a completely different kind of tension as Zoro crosses his arms at Sanji’s response.

You, still trying to cover up your embarrassment, move to block Sanji’s view, pushing his bangs away from his face and attempting to smooth out his frown lines. His cheeks are still flushed, though the color is quickly fading back to normal as his attention turns back to you.

“C’mon, Zoro wants to fold his laundry. Let’s go up to the lounge and see what the others are up to.”

“Is that what you really want to do?”

“Yeah.” (It is now, anyway.)

“… All right, then,” Sanji acquiesces.

With that, you push the blanket off and clamber out of the hammock, nearly tripping and falling flat on your face in your haste to do so. Sanji follows close behind, and once he’s on his feet, you turn to Zoro and give him another quick apology before you and Sanji leave the men’s room.

“Of all the times to be interrupted,” your companion mutters as the two of you head to the lounge. He takes your hand in his and interlaces your fingers. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. Ships don’t have a lot of privacy …” You think back to the moment Zoro spoke up and groan, burying your face in your free hand. “I’m just embarrassed he caught us like that. I didn’t even hear him come down.”

“Me neither.” Sanji lets out an irritated sigh and then looks over at you; his displeasure softens. “At the very least, I’ll take it to mean you were enjoying yourself.”

Your face heats up. “Of course,” you say quickly. “I like our alone time."

“I like it too.” He squeezes your hand and leans over to whisper into your ear. “Next time, I could be on top, so I can hide you away if anyone walks in unannounced.”

“Wh – Sanji! Don’t say it like that!”

The man grins as you smack his arm playfully, planting a kiss to your temple as penance.

“Just evening the score, sweetheart.”