#op beckman

[fanaticsnail]

He's in love with you

Masterlist here

Word Count: 1,500+

Synopsis: Benn Beckman can no longer ignore the way he feels about you, and it's eating him alive.

Themes: Benn Beckman x reader, unrequited (requitted) love, idiots in love, teasing, kissing, sfw, fluff, comfort, confessions of love.

Notes: @tiredemomama said she was having a bad time recently, and her love for Becks was one of the things that's keeping her chin up. I thought it'd be nice to reassure you that your fictional hazubando loves you too - so I wrote a little something for you. I hope you don't mind, honey!

Tag List: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @sordidmusings @writingmysanity

Benn Beckman, the second in command to Red-Haired Shanks, is stoic and abrasive most of the time. He keeps his emotions hidden beneath his cool exterior to not give himself up to the pool of emotion swirling within the chasms of his chest. While his grimace never leaves his face, there truly is no hiding how he feels about you. 

This gunslinging vice-captain is in love with you. Desperately in love with you.

Always observing from afar, his gaze floats over the margins of the newspaper in his hands. Raking his eyes subtly enough to not draw attention to himself, he wordlessly dotes on you from his position on the deck with his eyes soft and filled with love and devotion. This first mate is absolutely smitten with you, and he hopes his affections are hidden enough to escape notice. 

It has not, however, escaped the attention of the Yonko captain you both serve under. Oh, absolutely not. 

Shanks clocked that development before he thought Beckman, himself, knew what was growing in his heart. His observation and affections for both you, and his competent first mate, had him positively itching to meddle in the growing affection between you. But he decided to ‘be good,’ and watch the sparks ignite the gunpowder to set ablaze the fireworks show. 

It started with little things: Beckman trailing your form when you sauntered into town, throwing himself between you and harms way when engaged in combat, offering to watch your drink for you when you went to bars and taverns. Then it developed into something a little deeper. 

Beckman often wrote you little notes, slipping them to you subtly beneath the dining room table in front of the crew when he thinks nobody is watching. The notes would be anything from: ‘do you need anything from town today?’ or ‘you seem down, do you want to talk about it?’ He would only ever do this to ensure you were comfortable, not drawing attention to you if you didn't want to be seen. 

Then it got a little more obvious to the crew that he was smitten with you. He would escort you into rooms with his hand on the small of your back, holding open doors for you if you were wandering in beside him, offering to carry your equipment for you because ‘it's just easier that way.’

After a while, the crew all witnessed the obvious favoritism Beckman was gifting you with. The only person who was yet to catch on to his affections was the one person who mattered. 

You had absolutely no clue. Although not overly oblivious to the new attention the chainsmoker was giving you, you honestly mistook his friendliness for exactly that. 

Friendliness. 

You were good friends, close friends. The closest two friends could ever be. Picking out potential couplings in towns for one another was an often happenstance. Pretty men and women were often the topic of conversation, and you had always demonstrated your keen eye with your choices for him. That was until the day he refused them all. There was nobody he would rather spend his time with than you, and he needed to let you know as such.

He couldn't play this little game with you any longer. The heartache that came from neglecting his emotions for too long had him a little more furious and pent up than usual. Every member of the crew, including you, had noticed his attitude switch. You decide to do something about it, changing the roles and becoming the one in your friendship to check in with him first. 

Seeking him out after a day out in a rural town, he was leaning over the barricade on the pier and staring out into sea. His gray orbs were narrowed and focussed, and his cigarette hung limply from his lips. You apprehensively press your hand on his shoulder, breaking him away from his thoughts and turning to face you. 

His features soften briefly before they return back to his usual grimace. You expect him to shrug off your hand from his shoulder, but his body seems to lean into the gentle touch and hold you there for as long as you give him. Without words, you furrow your brows curiously at him and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. 

Sighing into the touch, he closes his eyes and sizzles out the lessening end of the cigarette on the wooden barricade beside him. After thumbing the filter end into the hard surface, he turns back to you: your hand still pressed firmly on his shoulder. As you go to withdraw your hand from his shoulder, he immediately grips your wrist and hovers your retreating hand above his face. 

Slowly and apprehensively, he draws your wrist to his lips and presses them tenderly to the palm of your hand. His eyes search yours for any apprehension or hesitation to his small advance, and upon finding none, he lowers his lips to your wrist and places them over your rapidly beating pulse point. 

Your wide eyes go half-lidded the moment he presses his lips to your wrist, looking up at him with nothing but love and adoration. He mirrors your expression, his eyes falling glazed as he bares his eyes intensely into your own. 

“Is this why you’ve been acting like an asshole, big guy?” you ask him with a knowing smile growing on your lips. He chuckles down at you while blinking slowly. Leaning his forehead down, he presses it against your own while circling your captured wrist around his neck. 

“‘M not actin’ like an asshole, Darlin’,” his smooth baritone gently informed you with a soft hint of mockery, “Just actin’ like a guy who knows what he wants, but doesn’t know what to do about it.” There were two reactions Beckman was expecting from you at this very moment. The first was you leaning in and pressing your lips against his. The other was for you to recoil and turn down his advances. 

He was not expecting you to taunt him with a gentle tease.

“Ooh,” you hum up at him, “Oh, you must really like me.” You scrunch your nose up and grin as you pull away from contact against his forehead, “You want to kiss me. You want to hold me. You want to claim me.” You giggled, lulling your head to the side and poking your tongue out at him. 

Beckman immediately puffed out his broad chest before stooping down and circling his arms around your waist. You squeaked in shock, eyes again growing wide as he lifted you into his arms. In reaction, you hooked your other arm around his neck and pressed your own chest into his. 

“Somethin’ wrong with all that, Darlin’?” he whispered huskily into your face, his lips hovering over yours while he tilted his face into yours, “You don’t want me to?” Your lips part in reaction, quivering gently as he continues to hover his face a whisper’s length away from you. 

“Kiss me,” you whisper into his lips, leaning your lips closer to his and waiting for him to close the distance. He pulled his face away with a mischievous grin, his eyes narrowed and looking down his nose at you.

“Ask me nicely,” he retorted cockily back at you. He was so close you could taste his withheld kiss. Wanting nothing more than all you mocked him with, you humbled yourself and did as he asked. 

“Kiss me please, Beckman,” you whispered, your eyes focussed entirely on his lips, “I want nothing more than you.” His grin dropped, his eyes darkened, and he immediately heeded your humble request.

A dance of lips and tongues pressed repressed and hidden emotion in a passionate embrace. His rumbled groan fled unbridled and breathily from his lips into yours, as your muffled whimper was claimed behind his mouth. It felt as if the waves of passion had swollen and spilled in a greedy and desperate kiss from your beloved first-mate. 

Turning your bodies, he sat you on the railing he was leaning against prior and slotted his hips between your thighs. Rotating your head and angling your chin, you could taste the lingering flavor of his last cigarette on his tongue as it brushed with yours. His stubble scratched at your cheeks as you felt him begin to smile against your lips. 

Raking his hands from your back over your thighs, he gripped the muscle and held you firmly in place before breaking his lips away from yours. Placing a few more soft and close-lipped kisses against your lips, he finally withdrew his face from yours. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he uttered breathily while shying his smile away from you, “‘S been a long time comin’. Didn’t wanna frighten you with the intensity too soon.” You collected his cheek with your hand and turned his eyes back to meet with yours. 

You offer him nothing more than your smile before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against his lips in response. 

Watching on from a distance, an exchange of Berry from Yassop, Roux and Limejuice appear in Shanks’ outstretched hand and toothy grin. Beckman had finally admitted his affections for you, and your beloved Captain could not be happier about it. Especially now that the largest wad of Berry from Hongo appeared in his hands.

“Drinks are on me, lads!” he called, turning around and laughing merrily as he reentered the tavern. Neither you nor Beckman heard the exchange, choosing to remain in each other's aura and enjoying the warmth growing in your chests with the sparks of new beginnings.

[stillxnunpxidintern]

Reader: I'm cold. Beck: Here, take my hoodie. meanwhile Shanks: I'm cold. Mihawk: I can't control the weather, Shanks.

(Some crack in the form of incorrect quotes. Shanks just wanted a nice double date and cute moment)

[fanaticsnail]

I DON'T HAVE A LOT OF WORDS, BUT BECKMAN IS MAKING A COME BACK NOW AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA JUST AMAZING JINTAKA!!!

Sit Down

Masterlist

Summary: Ben Beckman carries too much on his shoulders. The situation on board is a mess, and the weight of the stress is making it harder for him to sleep at night. As your first mate and friend, it pains you to see him so exhausted. So, when things become unbearable, you offer a drastic solution—something he’ll hesitantly end up accepting. Word count: 5100 Notes: MDNI, + 18, NSFW, xf!reader, smut (but there is also some plot I swear), oral (Becks receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), friends to lovers, let me take care of you thing, fluffy end, a lot of pet names used (darlin', doll, princess) Self indulgent? This? Nah Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Clink-Crassssh!! 

The coffee pot shattered against the wooden floor, sending shards of glass and splashes of coffee flying across the mess hall.

You jolted at the noise, nearly losing your balance on the stool, and after exchanging puzzled glances with Roux and Hongo, you turned your heads to find the source of the crash.

Before you stood the sad figure of Benn Beckman crouched on the floor, muttering curses as his trembling hands scrambled to clean up the mess. His hair was more disheveled than usual, his lips pressed into a tight line beneath an untrimmed beard, and his usually bright eyes seemed dull, framed by deep, dark shadows.

He looked so exhausted, it was painful to see.

"Becks?" You immediately set your drink down and stood up from your seat, rushing to help him.

“Ain’t gotta, darlin'...” he said in a rough, worn-out voice. "I got this."

With a frown, you ignored what he said and grabbed a clean rag, kneeling beside him and soaking it in the spilled coffee.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his fingers clumsily gather pieces of the shattered pot, his movements so slow and unsteady that you worried he might hurt himself. You tried to push the glass shards away from his hands, but when he stubbornly kept picking them up, you placed your hand over his.

"Becks. Stop. I’ll handle it..." 

"No," the bulky man muttered, giving a small tug to free his hand in such a rushed and clumsy way that it struck the edge of a sharp shard, causing him to wince as his skin split open with a jagged cut.

"Becks!" You grabbed his wrist firmly. "Would you just stop?!"

Beckman sighed heavily and, for once, complied. As blood began to bead along the cut, Hongo rushed to assist him, crouching down to help you lift him to his feet.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor said, focusing on the wound and pressing gently around the edges to ensure no glass remained. “Just needs cleaning and a bandage.”

"I got it," you said immediately.

Hongo raised an eyebrow at your quick response and ran a hand over his shaved neck to asses the situation.

For once, someone from the crew was offering to help, and he wouldn’t be the one to refuse. He gave you a short nod, and that gesture was all you needed to grab the big, wall-of-a-man first mate by the arm, and practically drag him out of the mess hall, marching down the corridor as he grumbled the whole way.

“Darlin’, I’ve got plenty of things to do…”

You grunted. Of course he had things to do. He always had things to do. And that was exactly the problem.

"... and if you're taking me to bed," he continued stubbornly, "it's not gonna work..."

You huffed and without replying, kept striding down the corridor, your fingers digging into his forearm like claws.

We'll see about that …

**********

You weren't exactly having the best time on the Red Force.

The captain was confined to his cabin, bedridden and unable to make decisions. He had caught something nasty on the last island and was under strict orders to rest, spending his days grumbling and complaining like the terrible patient he was.

Roux and Hongo’s moods weren’t much better. Food and medical supplies were lacking in both quality and quantity. So the cook was growing increasingly dramatic, threatening to serve boiled underwear soup, while the doctor prowled the ship’s corners, muttering to everyone that he’d soon be operating without anesthesia.

The ship wasn’t in much better shape, either. The sails were in desperate need of patching, the masts needed reinforcement, and the cannons kept jamming at the worst moments.

To make matters worse, you were trapped in a dead calm. With the ship completely immobilized in the open sea, resupplying or seeking help was impossible, and the weather forecast offered no hope of change anytime soon.

Everything was a mess and completely out of control.

And naturally, all the responsibility, worry, and pressure landed squarely on the shoulders of the ever-capable and vigilant co-captain.

Everyone depended on his steady hands and sound judgment to keep things afloat. But the weight of it all was beginning to take its toll.

His body rebelled, depriving him of the restorative sleep he so desperately needed. And with each passing day, the insomnia only worsened, making the once steadfast first mate slowly turn into a tired, miserable shadow of his former self.

**********

"Go in," you said, opening the door to Beckman’s cabin and giving the sturdy man a gentle nudge on his back.

The moment you stepped inside, a sharp smell of tobacco assaulted your nose, and your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in its disheveled, sorry state.

The bed was unmade, with rumpled sheets and clothes scattered across the mattress. In front of a worn, cushioned armchair, his desk looked disheveled, cluttered with a mountain of papers and maps and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat next to a small box of sleeping pills.

A sigh slipped from your lips.

You’d always heard that a person’s cabin was a window into their mind, and the sight before you was more revealing than any words could be.

Beckman stood frozen in the center of the room, his injured hand raised and curled into a fist.

"Sit down," you commanded, stepping closer and looking up at him, your voice steady as you motioned toward the armchair. 

Beckman opened his mouth to protest, but before he could articulate a word you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back and guiding him toward the chair.

"Sit down," you repeated in the most authoritative tone you could muster. 

Becks chuckled but complied, sinking into the cushioned armchair with his full weight. 

“Bandages and antiseptic?” You crouched down to meet his eye level, a finger raised in a questioning gesture.

“Top drawer,” he grumbled.

Without another word, you turned to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. Your fingers brushed past rolling papers, lighters, and razor blades before finally finding alcohol and some bandages. Supplies in hand, you perched sideways on the armrest of his chair, extending your hand to take his.

The bulky man allowed you to tend to his wound, remaining silent as you carefully cleaned the bleeding cut, his drowsy eyes following every move of your delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but notice how small and soft your hands looked against the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Becks..." your voice came out like a sigh. "You can't keep going like this. You need to sleep." 

His fingers didn’t flinch as you applied the alcohol to disinfect the wound. 

"I know, darlin’," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on your face as your brows furrowed in concentration while you cut the bandage. "And I’m tryin’, but—"

"It’s too much stress and weight on your shoulders, I know..." You carefully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tracing small circles in the air.

You liked that grumpy, big-hearted first mate more than you were willing to admit. He was your friend, your confidant, your favorite person on the crew. You wanted to help him. And after all the traditional remedies your crewmates had tried had failed miserably, your mind had begun drifting toward more... drastic options.

Benn Beckman was a reserved man. But despite his discretion, you knew he had his needs. Whenever you reached port, you knew he sought comfort in the arms of willing, affectionate women, eager to spend a few hours in his company. You’d seen him share drinks with them, whispering who-knows-what in their ears while they sat on his lap, hands sensually tracing the lines of his chest in some secluded corner of the tavern. 

And every time you saw him the next morning, a cigarette between his lips, that casual smile of his, and a trail of bruises on his neck disappearing into his shirt, something twisted in your gut.

Something you couldn’t quite define.

Maybe it was curiosity… curiosity about what he did with them all night, tangled in the sheets of an inn bed.

But it had been weeks since you’d seen the first mate blow off any steam.

With no wind to fill the sails, the ship had no chance of docking at any nearby port, leaving everyone deprived of the opportunity to unwind and relax with some good company on the shore.

So one idea had started to form in your mind.

At first, you had dismissed it, but as you watched Beckman worsen day by day, you began to reconsider, concluding that it might be exactly what he needed to forget—if only for a moment—the weight of his responsibilities, and hopefully, get the rest he so desperately needed.

The only problem? Suggesting the idea felt harder than carrying out the remedy itself.

“You’re lost in thought…” His rough voice pulled you back, his hand gently holding yours after you finished tying off the bandage. His thumb moved in slow circles over your wrist as he looked at you with gratitude.

You cleared your throat and stood up, pulling your hand away from his to return the first-aid kit to the nightstand drawer. His gaze weighed on your back, and just before closing the drawer, you clenched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before deciding to take the plunge.

“I think I can help you,” you said, surprised to find that your voice didn’t tremble.

A low chuckle sounded behind you, laced with disbelief rather than malice. "Darlin’," he sighed, rubbing his eyes, "Hongo's tried everything. He even gave me pills to—"

“I can give you something Hongo hasn’t,” you cut him off, your voice coming out more confident than you’d imagined it would when you’d rehearsed the words in your head. When you turned to face him, though, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what’s that?” he stopped rubbing his eyes, revealing his tired again as he looked at you.

“My mouth.” 

The two words hung in the air, finally freed after days of being locked in your mind. Beckman stayed silent, and with your heart in your throat, you approached the armchair, placing a hand on each armrest, leaning your torso toward the wordless man. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you tried to remain stoic and unwavering, holding his gaze while his eyes flickered between yours, studying your features as if he were trying to see beyond your skin.

"Doll," he finally said, his voice deep and soft. "If you're implying what I think..."

"I am." 

His lips twitched into a wry grin.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Your fingers unconsciously dug into the fabric of the armrest.

His smile faded, and this time, his gaze locked onto yours with an animal-like intensity. Frowning, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he seemed to be trying to control an internal battle raging inside him.

"No," he finally said, his chin still lifted so he could look you straight in the eye.

His refusal struck you like a bucket of cold water, though, in some way, you knew that’s exactly what he would say. He always treated you with a respect and care befitting a goddess, and making you lower yourself to the dirt in such a worldly way would probably be unthinkable for him.

“Becks,” you sighed softly, removing one of your hands from the armrest to trail it up to his stubbled chin. “You’re barely on your feet. We’re all worried about you…”

Beckman closed his eyes at the feel of your touch, his chin leaning into your hand as he allowed himself a moment of rest.

“I can help you if you let me…” you continued, “We’re adults, it’d be an agreement between the two of us… an agreement between… friends.”

You felt his jaw tense in your hand.

“As flattered as I am that someone like you would be offerin’ somethin’ like that to a guy like me, my answer’s still no."

This time, his refusal genuinely hurt you. You pulled your hand away, and his tired eyes opened again, desperately searching for you.

"Your stubbornness is reckless," you tried to sound composed, though the pain in your voice betrayed you. "You can't work like this. A-a crew without a first mate at his best is a crew in danger." Your lips trembled nervously as you spoke. "We all need you, Becks... I-I... I need you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your lip. The last thing you wanted was to add even more weight to the already burdened first mate, and that was exactly what you'd just done.

Embarrassed, you straightened up and began to turn away to leave, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you back toward him, spreading his legs to make space for your body to move closer to his.

"Girl," he said in a rough voice that sent a spark flickering in the pit of your stomach. His brow furrowed in thought for a few agonizingly slow seconds before he exhaled deeply, locking his eyes with yours. "You can back out anytime. Got it?"

You nodded, and before you realized it, his hands were around your waist. He lifted your shirt and exposed your abdomen, pressing his nose playfully against your navel, and as his fingers traced the waistband of your pants, you grabbed his bandaged hand to stop him.

“Becks,” you giggled, the ticklish sensation of his fingertips sending goosebumps racing across your body. “What are you doing?”

“I never let my partner pleasure me without takin’ care of her first,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face further into your abdomen.

Oh. Of course. Benn Beckman, competent first mate and finest gentleman.

Smiling, you placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze back to yours. As tempting as the situation was, you weren’t going to let him take this turn. You were here to help him, not the other way around.

"Becks, stop... you don’t have to. I’m not asking for anything in return, understand?"

He looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. But from the expression on his face, you could tell he wasn’t convinced at all.

"Besides," you added, trying to find something that would make him relent, "if that ever happens, I deserve for it to be with all your strength. Not like the tired wreck you are right now."

A raspy laugh rumbled in his chest, and you laughed too, gently taking his hands and placing them on the armrests of the chair.

"Alright, Darlin’," he said, still chuckling.

Your smile lingered as you slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his legs, never breaking eye contact with him. Before your knees could touch the floor, he leaned over to the bed, snatching up his pillow and placing it on the floor beneath you.

"Here," he said, "don’t go hurtin’ those pretty knees of yours."

"Thank you," you sighed as your heart skipped a beat or two.

Making yourself comfortable on the soft pillow, you placed your hands gently on his thighs for support. Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge at his crotch, and without thinking, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Beckman’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard, a display of vulnerability uncharacteristic of a man with his reputation and experience.

“Hey, big guy,” you gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, "it’s just me. Relax, okay? Just let yourself go…”

As you offered him a soft, rassuring smile, the tent in his pants seemed to complain within its prison, yearning for your attention. You didn’t want to make him wait any longer, so your hands slid down his thighs slowly, reaching his knees. Then with a gentle pressure, you spread his legs a little more to create enough space for your head.

"Who’s undoing the belt?" you asked tilting your head and looking up at him from beneath your long doe-eyed lashes.  

"You." His tone struck you as the same one he used when handing out tasks on deck.

Your hands gripped the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, your fingers decisively pulling aside the layers of fabric that stood between you, lowering the waistband of his pants and finally freeing his painfully swollen cock.

Benn Beckman was a big man. And he had a dick to match. With a large, pinkish-red head and a prominent vein running up and down a thick shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, lips parted as you took a moment to prepare yourself. But, taking the moment of silence as doubt on your part, Beckman leaned forward.

"Darlin’,” his voice was low and rough, “you can back out if—Hah~" 

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you captured his swollen, mushroomed knob between your eager lips.

His taste was salty and strong, just like him. 

You, on the other hand, felt incredibly sweet to him. 

Opening your mouth as wide as your jaw would allow, you slowly took him in, giving yourself a moment to breathe and adjust to him. You gradually swallowed more and more of his cock, your eyes closed in concentration, and when you managed about two-thirds of his length, your hands anchored on his base for support.

He held his breath above you, his abdomen taut as his muscles tightened with restraint when you looked up at him, your tongue pressing against the pulsing vein on his shaft, feeling the wild rush of blood running through it. Then his hand cupped your cheek, his lips curling into a smile as he traced with his thumb his own bulge inside you.

With your cheeks flushed by that smile, you began applying more pressure with your lips, rising back up to his large head, giving it a quick lick before taking him all the way down again. 

"That's it... “ he sighed. 

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers brushing your hair aside with care before settling there. You continued bobbing your head against his cock, making him groan with your upward and downward movements, trying to take as much of him as you could.

“Yeah, nice and slow princess…, just like that." he whispered, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin.

Encouraged by his sweet gesture, you decided to use your hands as well. One moved carefully up and down his hard cock, while the other dared to venture deeper into his pants. His balls felt heavy and tight between your fingers. The balls of a man who hadn’t known a partner' s warmth in a long time.

"So, so good, princess," the bulky man praised breathlessly, his eyes full of devotion as he watched your head bob sweetly between his legs.

His length twitched inside your mouth and you tasted a salty drop of precum as you ran your tongue through his slit. You smiled proudly on his cock, continuing to suck and bob, feeling sparks ignite between your thighs as your own arousal began to smolder in your core.

“Look at you... hah… so perfect… and takin’ me so damn well,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper and raspier than usual. 

His sweet praises, coupled with the slow, sensual glide of his fingers along the nape of your neck, sent a sharp jolt of desire coursing through you. Your mouth continued working up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure and speed as you felt the weight of his darkened, dilated pupils staring at you.

“Princess, open your shirt for me," you heard him ordered with an unsteady breath. Arching your brow, you looked at him, holding his gaze with an alluring intensity as you slowly obeyed. Your fingers fumbled with your buttons as you undid them slowly, one by one, and as soon as you finished, he tugged your shirt down, baring one of your shoulders.

“So goddamn beautiful…” he whispered, the back of his fingers grazing your soft, vulnerable skin, tracing an invisible line from your collarbone to the curve of your cleavage.

His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you frowned, fighting to control the raw, insistent desire building between your thighs. You continued to sweetly embrace his cock with your swollen lips, sucking him hard up and down, focused on how with each movement, his breaths grew more and more uneven.

"Ah~”  he tilted his head back, his fingers pressing more tightly into the back of your neck, drawing your head closer to his crotch. "Let's go deeper, a'right, Doll? Show me what that pretty throat can do…"

You nodded obediently on his cock, exhaling through your nose as you took his cock further, slowly swallowing his entire length inch by inch. 

“That’s it, such a good girl…” He praised you as his hands gently grabbed your head to guide you deeper into him.

His words pushed you to swallow more than your throat could handle, and when his blunt head hit the back of your mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from choking. 

"Hey, n-no," He huskily chastised you, giving you a little tap on the nose. Though he couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and rolling them back. "No gagging. Good girls don’t gag”.

You nodded again, knitting your brows together in concentration, and let him guide you to take the rest of his cock..

“That’s it… breathe and relax for me, okay?”

You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the blunt tip pressed against your uvula, but once you managed the last few inches, you smiled proudly against his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed at you, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to avoid twitching over your tongue. “I knew you could take all of me…”

You continued moving your head, up and down, then down and up, always watching his reactions and listening to his breath to match the right pace. His throbs inside you became more frequent and desperate, and you began to fantasize about how his massive cock would stretch you to your limit. 

The thought did little to ease the growing, unbearable thirst inside you. The damp fabric of your underwear clung uncomfortably to your swollen folds, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking any form of relief. Burning with desire, you increased the pace. Obscene sucking sounds filled the air as you worked your way up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, making him grunt and curse above you in his frantic fight not to cum.

“G-good j-…  -ahh such a pretty good girl…” he had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the pleasure flooding him. “I’m so close, Darlin’... gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me and not let me make a mess on the floor?" 

You don’t remember giving him an answer, but you do remember how your swollen pussy throbbed between your legs at his question.

You desperately wanted to touch you.

You desperately wanted him to touch you. 

And your prayers were answered. As you whimpered in frustration, you felt Beckman's large hand slip into your pants and slide under your underwear.

“Shh, I got you…,” he soothed in that deep voice of his, his expert fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit. “Go on, princess.” 

He circled your perfect spot with astonishing ease, and you gripped his hand and ground your pelvis against it, desperately begging him to keep on those sweet circles that were taking you so quickly to the edge. He indulged, and in less than 30 seconds, he had you whimpering and mewling against his cock, eyes rolling and toes curling as you shoved his thick fingers into your clenching pussy.

Your pace bobbing your head decreased during your high, but the force increased. You hollowed your cheeks, raking him down with your mouth with so much fervor, that you had not yet come down from the crest of your orgasm when you felt his hands roughly grab your hair in firm handfuls, his cock throbbing against your palate and filling the bottom of your throat with his thick, salty load. 

“Fuck, princess, sweetheart, -ngah!, you’re too good, too much -so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his cock deeper into your mouth, emptying himself so hard and so deep in your throat that you gagged on his knob again. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, but you continued bobbing your head against him, feeling his hand rest on your throat as if he wanted to feel your windpipe shift with each swallow of his overwhelming stream of cum.

Panting, and sweating, with your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed, you felt the last of his spend spill into your mouth. You pulled away from him, lifting your eyes to his and finding him as breathless and damp as you. He smiled and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure. But when he leaned toward you and his fingers grazed your cheek, the smile faded.

"Oh, Darlin’... No..." His voice cracked, his eyes following the tears as they slipped down your cheeks. “Forgive me... I’ve made you cry.” His large hands wrapped gently around your waist, lifting you effortlessly and settling you onto his lap, drawing you close against his chest. “Damn, I’m such a fucking brute…”

“It’s alright, Becks,” you whispered, pulling your face away. But his hand drew you closer once more. His lips brushed softly against your cheeks, catching each tear with tender, almost apologetic kisses. You let out a soft laugh, and turned your head slowly to allow him more access, and in doing so, your noses brushed together. Your eyes fluttered shut, and in that brief, unspoken moment, his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow, softer than you’d ever expected from that grumbling, broad-shouldered first mate. He had the calm and patience of someone who had waited for this moment for a long time, savoring every second as if your lips were a long-lost treasure. You sighed into the kiss, allowing yourself to be carried away by the sweet, unhurried motion of his chin.

When you pulled back, your fingers brushed lightly against his cheek as you met again his deep gray eyes. They held something intense, familiar yet impossible to name. A look he reserved only for you. A look that was now hungrier than ever, as if he were staring at something that had always belonged to him.

“And?” you asked, straightening your back and raising an eyebrow.

“And?” he smiled, playfully mirroring your gesture. “Darlin’, you were…” his gaze briefly flickered to your lips, “you are gorgeous.”

“No,” you giggled, your cheeks flushing as you gave him a light, teasing tap on his chest. “I meant if you can sleep now.”

“Ah, right… okay,” he said, frowning slightly and clearing his throat, the sheepish gesture making you grin. “The truth is… yeah, I think I can sleep now.”

You nodded, genuinely happy for him, and gave his chest another light tap as you moved to stand. But his large hands tightened gently around your thighs, pulling you firmly back into his embrace.

“Stay with me…” he whispered, his forehead coming to rest softly against yours.

“I can’t, Becks. I’ve got work to do,” you said, lovingly brushing your fingers along his stubbled chin. His eyes suddenly seemed weighed down by exhaustion again.

“No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do,” you teased, crossing your arms playfuly over your chest. “And if I don’t, my first mate is gonna punish me.”

He lifted his forehead from yours. "Oh, I see. That first mate of yours must be really mean."

With a mock frown, you leaned in, your voice low and almost conspiratorial.

“The meanest.”

He let out an amused hum.

“Is he?” 

"You have no idea."

Clearly enjoying having you so close again, he tilted his chin towards you, grinning as he caught the way your eyes darted to his lips. But when you leaned away out of his reach once more, his smile faded.

"Maybe he's just a man," he said, his voice rough and barely a whisper, "who believes he doesn't deserve what he truly wants."

Your eyes darted between his. “And what is that?”

"Stay with me, and I’ll tell you in the morning" He cupped your cheek and his thumb traced slowly the line of your jaw. A smile played at the corner of your mouth as you closed your eyes, sighing before slowly nodding to him.

You didn’t have time to catch your breath before he was already lifting you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapped around you as he carried you to the bed.

The clothes scattered across the mattress were pushed aside as he gently laid you down, ensuring you were comfortable among the soft but wrinkled sheets, which he hurriedly tried to straighten. He then sat behind you, and you giggled when the weight of his body made you roll toward him, prompting you to crawl back to your place.

He smiled, tossing his shirt over the armchair, and then lay down behind you. His bandaged hand came to rest on your thigh, while the other slid beneath your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. His face pressed into your hair as he closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to rest.

"Besides..." you heard him whisper, his nose nudging the curve of your neck, "I gotta show you what this tired wreck can do after a few hours of sleep..."

Those were the last words he spoke before letting out a long, deep sigh. You felt his body relax behind you, his steady breathing signaling that he had finally drifted off.

Beckman slept soundly that night, his heartbeat calm and his brow relaxed, finally enjoying his well-deserved, soothing rest. You, however, couldn’t manage a single blink, enduring what felt like the longest night of your life.

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

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[huyandere]

the birth of a diva

[yellowistheraddest]

kids these days dont appreciate anything...

[reineydraws]

benn is actually praying for himself bc he knows that this is somehow going to turn into his problem 😔🙏

[fanaticsnail]

Oh my gosh, look at these beautiful men!! Grumpy Becks, my beloved 🤌. Absolutely gorgeous.

Working on keychain designs! Poor Beckman he needs a break and a raise.

[cloudzoro]

Kink Discovery | One Piece ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

individual reaction/headcanon scenarios on kink discovery with op characters!

masterlist | one piece masterlist

part 1 | part 3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut (minors dni)

characters: beckman, buggy, crocodile, kid, killer

cw: fem!reader, size kink, beckman is significantly bigger than reader, sub-ish buggy, overstimulation, masturbation, inappropriate workplace relationships.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Beckman - size

Benn Beckman is a big man, but he had never thought much about the size difference between the two of you. You both love each other, and that's all he cares about; the differences between you weren't ever something he focused on. At least, not until his captain points it out.

“How the hell are you still walking right after being with him for so long?” he asks. You, not being afraid of your captain, yell at him for asking an inappropriate question and storm off. The question lingers in Beckman's mind for the rest of the day.

Later that night, when you're both in bed, and he's got you pinned beneath him, he focuses on the way your poor tight pussy struggles to take him at first. You whine at the stretch, whining that he's too big. He sees a little bulge form in your lower stomach, and when he realises that's him, he snaps. He presses down as he grinds his cock inside of you.

“you feel that, doll? That's me in there,” He growls. You can't give him a coherent response, instead offering a scream of his name that he doesn't even bother covering up. “It's ok, sweet girl. I know you can take me,” he says, pushing your legs up to your chest and starting a fast, punishing pace.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Buggy - praise

One thing Buggy's always been good at is oral. He's always ready to drop to his knees, hold your things open and devour you like you're his last meal.

One late night aboard the Cross Guilds ship, Buggy is lying in bed with you. He's got your legs spread as far as he can without causing you pain so that he can lick and suck at your clit without obstruction. He licks over your pussy, Indulging himself in his favourite taste. He's used to hearing your moans and whimpers as his tongue works you towards an orgasm, but this time, you say something that grabs his attention.

“Fuck, you're so good.” You moan, hands flying down to grab at his hair. Buggy is momentarily embarrassed, blushing at your words until the pride that's starting to build within him yearns to hear more praise.

“Say that again. Tell me how good I am.”

“You're a good boy. You're so good at eating my pussy. I'm gonna cum” You say, and Buggy almost cums in his pants at your words. Buggy likes hearing you tell him how good he is at making you cum, even if it comes in the form of a ‘good boy’.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Crocodile - panties

When he hired you as his second in command for the cross guild, you both knew it wouldn't stay professional. Or rather, it was never professional in the first place. What started as simple gifts and flowers quickly turned into stolen kisses and fancy lingerie.

He has you in his office, planted on his lap, making out with him until the den den mushi on your desk starts to ring and ruins the moment. Crocodile hesitates to let you go, but he does so, watching you with great interest as you stand up. What he doesn't expect you to do is reach under the skirt of your dress and pull your panties down your legs. He catches them as you fling them at him.

“entertain yourself while I take this call,” you say, and he looks between you and the lace in his hand before shrugging and bringing the lace to his face and inhaling your scent. He wraps the flimsy fabric around his cock and uses it to get off. It's embarrassing how fast he cums, all because of some lace. He tucks the fabric into his pocket as you end the call for future usage. He's already planning the next pair he's going to buy you.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Kid - voyeurism/cuckolding

Kid had been staring so intensely at you and Killer that he didn't even realise Wire was talking to him. Wire gives up on trying to have a conversation with his Captain and gets up to leave.

“Where are you going?” Kid grumpily asks as he notices his friend moving out of the corner of his eyes.

“I can't sit here and watch you eyefuck your girlfriend AND your best friend.” He says, turning to leave. Kid's not going to deny he's eye-fucking you, but he immediately starts protesting the idea that he's doing the same to Killer. Kid tries to forget about Wire's words after calming himself down, but then he sees you lean further into Killer so you can hear him speak, and he realises that he likes the way you look together. Images of you bouncing on Killer's cock flash through his head all his self-restraint flies out the window. He calls the two of you into the captain's quarters, and you two follow quickly. As soon as the door shuts, Kid walks over to a chair at the side of the bed.

“I need you two to fuck”, he says, matter of factly. Both of you look startled, but when you see him palming himself through his trousers, you realise he's serious, and the idea of fucking Killer makes your skin hot.

You turn around to see that Killer has removed his mask and is staring down at you. Killer lifts you and drops you on the bed. He pulls your panties down your legs and then throws them at Kid. Killer unbuckles his belt and lines up his thick cock with your pussy.

Kid won't be able to cum anymore unless he thinks about the sight before him.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Killer - Overstim

“More, please”, you beg as Killer's hips snap into you. His heavy thrusts would launch you up the bed if he didn't have such a strong grip on you. Hearing you beg for more despite already being so close makes Killer smile. You don't have to beg for him, but he appreciates your plea.

You've already cum twice at the mercy of his tongue and then his cock. He's already cum one, covering your pretty ass and back. He's turned you over now, watching as your facial expression twists into something more desperate.

“beautiful” is all he can say as he studies the way you react to him. Killer leans back slightly to watch as your chest rapidly rises and falls with each heavy breath that leaves you, pushed out of you by his fat cock. He notices the trembling in your legs as you get closer and closer to cumming. Then he sees your hands searching for something to grab onto, and he leans back over you. You immediately grip onto his back, nails digging into the skin. He drops his head to your neck, pressing messy open-mouthed kisses to the skin there.

He's completely draped over you, thick cock bullying into your pussy. You're completely overwhelmed by him, and you can't do anything but let your orgasm take over. Your eyes roll back, and your body tenses as you cum with a cry of his name. Killer fucks you through it, in awe of the way your pussy pulses around him and the puddle dripping on the mattress beneath you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thank for you reading, I hope you enjoyed!!

there will be a part 3 coming ♡

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn @mythicallystupid

taglist is always open! (if you want to be tagged in specific character's fics pls let me know)

[innerfare]

Going Down On You - Part 2

Summary: how they go down on you

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Crocodile, Doflamingo, Corazon, Smoker

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, Doflamingo is a menace

——— 

Shanks: 

Swears it’s a hangover cure, and this man is hungover every single morning. He’ll wake up with a pounding headache, and before he’s even opened his eyes, he’s reaching for you. He’ll paw at you like a lazy animal until you remove your panties for him and he can fall face first into your delicious cunt. He’s trained your cunt like Pavlov’s dog, too, so that you wake up wet in the morning, your clit throbbing like an alarm clock. 

“Always ready for me,” he’ll mumble in his raspy morning voice. “Nice and wet. That's my girl.” 

You actually get a rash on your inner thighs from his stubble constantly rubbing against your sensitive skin, and you have to sheepishly approach Hongo for some sort of cream. Hongo has been on the Red Force long enough that he’s not phased, though you are so embarrassed you try to ban Shanks from going down on you for a while (spoiler alert: it doesn’t work). 

“I’d rather lose my arm than skip breakfast.” 

He’ll spend most of his time between your legs licking with broad strokes of his tongue, only pointing it and attacking your clit when you’re already on the brink of orgasm. He’ll finger you as you cum and won’t stop until you’re a crying mess, begging him to stop. Of course, he’ll only stop for as long as it takes him to get his cock out and push it in. 

Beckman: 

"Come here, babygirl. That's it."

Beckman drinks your juices like a nightcap. He’ll put you on his desk, the moonlight filtering in through the window and a lamp flickering in the corner, and unzip his pants to give his massive erection some breathing room before turning his attention to his babygirl. He likes to start slow, taking his sweet time with your nipples and leaving a trail of hickies around them, before finally burying his face between your shaking legs.  

“Give daddy a taste.” 

He’s nice and sweet about it, but don’t think he won’t hold you down if you start to squirm around too much. He goes down on you like you need it, not like you want it; he goes down on you like it’s for your own good. It’s for his own good, too, that thing that takes the edge off and helps him wind down after a stressful day. He wants your legs wrapped around his head and your hands tangled in his long hair. 

Oh, and he wants you to tell him that he owns you. Nobody else is allowed to taste your pussy; it's all his, and you'd better chant that while he draws your orgasm out of you.

Mihawk:

A proponent of fine dining. 

Will eat you out on the table, which kind of makes you feel like he’s doing it in public because his dining room is so large and there are massive windows with no curtains covering them; his insistence on you removing every article of clothing, not just your panties, and sitting on the table, feet on the edge, holding your legs as far apart as they’ll go only makes you feel more exposed. All the while, he remains entirely clothed. 

He’ll scold you if you wrap your legs around him. It’s his meal and he’s going to enjoy it precisely the way he wants, and the way he wants is uninhibited. He drags it out, too, edging you multiple times and lecturing you about delayed gratification if you complain. When he does finally allow you to cum, he tortures your clit for a moment after to be certain he saw you through your entire orgasm.  

Other times, he’ll be sitting in his chair and see you walk by and say, “y/n, come here.” He’ll have you strip down before laying you on the coffee table and working an orgasm or two out of you. Enjoys it so much that at times when he’s training or preparing for something, he’ll ban himself from indulging in your pussy because he needs to be focused. 

Crocodile:

Sir Crocodile has a big cock, but he normally stretches you with his fingers. Oral sex isn’t foreplay to him, it’s a separate thing entirely. He normally engages in it very late at night or very early in the morning when he’s exhausted and you’re half asleep. He’ll run his hand down your body, stopping briefly to massage your breasts, before pulling your legs apart. 

“Wake up,” he might grumble in your ear. Or he might not, instead waking you up with a few kisses to your clit.  

He probably kisses your pussy more than he kisses your mouth. He’ll make out with your leaky opening, swapping your juices for his saliva, part of him wishing he still had his other hand so he had more fingers to torture you with. But he’ll settle for one, going back and forth between your nipples and squeezing them until you cry out, then squeezing them some more.  

He doesn’t talk to you while he does it, a far cry from how he mocks and argues with you during penetrative sex. When he’s in an especially bad mood, he doesn’t take his hook off, and you wake up with it pushing into the soft flesh of your thigh, a silent warning not to close your legs on him. And when he’s finished, he’ll push you back to your side of the bed without a word. 

Doflamingo: 

Part of being his toy means being tormented with his tongue. He has a fucking giraffe tongue, and he puts it to good use, often laying back in bed and making you ride it like it’s his cock, moving it out of the way and then making fun of you when you struggle. He makes you talk to him the entire time, and when you’re not sitting on his face, you have to make eye contact with him. 

He’ll talk to you, too, and is so fucking patronizing. 

“Use your words, little one. Come on, you can do it. Don’t tell me it’s too much for you.” 

Uses a lot of different toys while he’s going down on you, typically a butt plug and nipple clamps. Has most definitely used a transponder snail to take pictures of your wet pussy, flush and swollen after he spent an entire afternoon tonguing it; the clicking sound of the snail camera was so humiliating but it made your pussy throb so much harder. 

One of his favorite things in the world is tying you up with his strings and spitting on your cunt. He has, on a handful of occasions, tied you up and allowed his subordinates to lick your pussy, but never lets them taste your cum; right when you’re on the edge, he’ll take over and make them watch while he takes your orgasm all for himself, usually with his cock. 

Corazon: 

Eating your pussy is his stress relief. The number of times you burned dinner because you were cooking and he came home in the middle and bent you over the counter for an appetizer is unreal. He always apologizes, but he doesn’t feel bad enough to stop doing it; he can’t stop doing it. And you’d be cruel to make him considering you can feel the tension leave his body as soon as his tongue runs through your folds. 

“I needed this so bad. Thank you so much.” 

When he’s not bending you over a counter, he wants you riding his face, and none of that hovering shit, either. He’ll wrap his arms around your thighs and hold you flush against his face, moaning as he laps at your folds.

“I can tell you need it, too. Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” 

He’s so sweet about it, it’s unreal. Smiles the entire time, places so many sweet kisses on your clit and opening. A big fan of the two finger and tongue combo. Can work an orgasm out of you in record time. Never fucks you without making you cum at least once on his tongue (he’s 9’7 and his cock is proportional). 

Smoker: 

Smoker almost always ends up eating his cum out of you. He’s gone for weeks, even months at a time, and when he walks through that door, you’re dropping your panties or he’s ending it all. He has so much pent up energy he absolutely has to fuck you, but that doesn’t change the fact that what he’s been jerking off to every night is the thought of tasting you. 

“Don’t think for a second we’re finished yet.” 

He’ll take breaks to kiss you on the mouth, making you taste yourself. And then he’ll work his way back down your body, leaving hickies on your neck and biting your nipples before he’s back between your legs again, pushing his tongue into your hole to get every last drop of both of your juices out, his thumb seeing to your aching clit. 

You won’t even make it to the bed, he’ll just fuck you against the wall or on the counter and then drag you onto the floor to lick your cunt. He’s attempted to get you to the sofa before, but you just end up pushed against it while still on the floor, or else bent over the arm or sitting on the edge while he kneels between your legs. 

Also, the two of you don’t shower together often, but for some reason, the times you do shower together, he always ends up with his face between your legs. You’ve wasted so much water because he can’t keep his damn tongue to himself. And when he’s finished, he always places a few sweet kisses at your entrance as if to reward you for behaving. 

———

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

[fanaticsnail]

Sweet Baby Boy

Masterlist Here

Word count: 1,200+

Synopsis: Your spouse ripped the arm off a young, enemy captain. You feel sympathy for the baby boy, and ensure to tell him as such.

Themes: Spouse!Benn Beckman x gn!reader, platonic!Eustass Kid x gn!reader, Kid has a praise kink, Kid enjoys being babied, fluff, swearing.

Notes: this is just a silly, crack one-shot based on a follow up to the "You Shot A Baby" dialogue post. It's funny, when I write for Eustass Kid, I always seem to want to write for Benn Beckman.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Shanks elevated his spyglass with his right hand, attempting to maneuver it to get the best angle to glance at the deck of the Victoria Punk from his position on the Red-Force. He elevates his right knee, balancing his elbow atop it to anchor his elbow against it.

“What did you say they were doing, again?” The redhead called to his first-mate over his shoulder, “Where were they going?”

Beckman, who remained stoic in silence as he stamped out his twelfth cigarette in the span of twenty minutes with his boot heel, huffed and exasperated breath as he sauntered over beside Shanks.

“Go on, big guy,” Shanks encouraged him with a small nudge, “What did they say, hm?”

“They said-...” Beckman bit back a snarl through his grimace, “...-that Captain Eustass Kid is a baby, and needs to be coddled and treated as such after I shot him.”

“They said, what?” Shanks' shock had him drop his spyglass, lunging forward to hastily catch the item in his hand, “Don't they know how dangerous he is? How violent and unpredictable he is? How he nearly took apart our crew with his bare hands before you blew the damn thing off-.”

“-I let 'em know,” he growled in fury, “And they simply would not listen to reason.”

A booming voice erupted from the Victoria Punk, prompting Shanks to elevate his spyglass to his face further and seek out its source. There was nothing on the seas that could have prepared him for the sight he was met with.

Dropping his hand from his face, he wordlessly handed over the metal eye-piece to his first mate with a shake of his head. Beckman snatched the object and raised it to his eye, his own shock evident on his face.

There you were, Benn Beckman's spouse and long-time lover, sitting on Eustass Kid’s topdeck throne atop his knee: cradling the large Captain’s head against your chest, with your lips curved upwards in a pout. Beckman was not an avid lip-reader, but he could just imagine the praises and soothing words you were cooing down at the violent captain.

“You've gotta be shittin’ me, Darlin’.” Beckman whispered to himself, noticing the way you were stroking Kid’s right cheek with the back of your hand, pressing your lips in gentle kisses against the sensitive, scarred flesh of his left cheek.

As if sensing a presence, you turned your head to glance down the barrel-end of the augmentative glass within the metal cylinder, promptly extending a crude gesture with your middle finger at your long-time partner.

Beckman rumbled a growl within his chest, handing back the spyglass to his captain before digging in his pocket for another cigarette.

“Still not a baby-,” he grunted, igniting the tip of his cigarettes.

-

“-Such a big, brave boy,” you cooed at the enemy captain, stroking his hair and pressing another chaste kiss against his scarred temple, “Taking on a legendary captain of incredible caliber, only to have such violence be your welcome.”

Eustass Kid was eating up every ounce of affection you were presenting to him, nuzzling into your chest and embracing you with his right arm hooked firmly around your waist.

“So, so strong. Such a beautiful, brave baby boy,” you continued to affirm into him, a small hiccup fleeing from the red-head tinkerer’s lips.

When you showed up on a dinky row boat and bound it to the hull of the Victoria Punk, he had half a mind to order Massacre Soldier Killer to cleave your left arm off. He knew you were the spouse of Shanks' first mate. ‘An eye for an eye, an arm for an arm,’ he rationalized.

What he didn't expect was for you to immediately begin treating him with the worshipful doting praises a parent would give to an injured child.

And he didn't expect to like it.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing uttered from his lips as you began cradling him against yourself with praises of his bravery and skillful hands. As he felt each small touch granted against his skin, his secondary reaction was, “Oh, what the fuck…?”

He was reveling in the warmth presented to him by your hands, the love and soothing motions you were treating him with. He had no idea how to behave himself beneath such a beautiful expression of sympathetic empathy - especially at the hands of someone he assumed was his enemy.

“He will never come near you again, sweet boy,” you whispered to him, soothing circles from the pads of your thumbs drew patterns against his shoulders, “Not mean, old, naughty, violent Benn Beckman. Not any of the Red-Hair Pirates-.”

“-Aren’t you a Red-Hair Pirate?” Killer spoke over your shoulder, prompting Kid to shoot him a look.

“Shut up, Kil. Let me have this,” he growled at his First-Mate, leaning into your arms with a broad grin, “T-Tell me again? Tell me what I am, again?”

“Oh, you poor, sweet baby boy,” you cooed down at him, witnessing as his eyes softened as he looked up at you from his position cradled into your chest, “So brave, so strong.”

“And my arm? What about my arm?” Kid prompted you, basking under the radiance of your unbridled compliments.

“Such a clever boy, too. Using your abilities to create a masterpiece of violent art, which doubles as an artificial limb,” your pouted lips depicted a soft and melodic tone while uttering your praise.

Eustass Kid hummed in thought, squeezing your hip within his right hand that was woven around your waist. He bounced you a little atop his knee, noticing the way you smiled down at him with a small shake of your head.

“You sure you want to go back to your Captain?” he arched his brow up at you, “I'm a red-head with a missing left arm. Wouldn't be that much of a stretch if I were to captain you.”

“Unfortunately, no, sweet baby boy,” you smiled, giving his cheek a gentle tap, “As much as I want to keep giving you praises and sweet gentle kisses-.” You attempted to stand from the young captain's lap, laughing as his hand grasped at your hip to hold you close.

“-I really should be getting back to my wonderful, very angry-.” you began, Eustass Kid's voice covering your own with his gruff tone.

“-Very violent, masochistic, sadistic, terrible spouse who hurt me by ripping my fuckin’ arm off,” he growled, turning his lips to mirror your prior pouted expression, “Me. Your poor, defenseless, sweet-,” he kisses your cheek in an uncharacteristic peck, “-innocent, baby boy.”

He relinquished his hold on your waist, rising with you to your feet and taking your left hand within his right. He ushered you to the small dingy, aiding you as you placed your feet into the boat. Before he allowed you the luxury of leaving the Victoria Punk, he drew you in one final time and whispered in your ear.

“Now, out of respect to you and your doting and worshipful words you offered me,” he raised his right hand, hooking your hair over your ear, “I'm going to allow you the luxury of a twenty minute head start.”

Your eyes widened, glancing at his whisky-tanned gaze which held such playful amusement. Lips opening and closing and flustered, he chuckled at your flabbergasted expression.

“Get paddling, Sunshine.”

[shanksxbuggy]

everything reminds me of him

[huyandere]

silly shuggynanigans collection

[manofbeskar]

i like you

[reineydraws]

spot benn tryna dig up when the mishanks situationship started, since the boys have a bet going. (shanks says they officially started dating a few years ago but everyone knows that's not when things actually started.)

(here's part 1 of this sketch dump.)

[crossguild]

激突！シャンクスVSユースタス・キッド

[cloudzoro]

Girl, since you mention the OP dilfs, I would LOVE to see some headcanons or something about either how they flirt with you or when they realize they like you 👀👀👀

you can add who you like but I’m begging for Shanks and Mihawk ✨🧍🏽‍♀️

hi!!!!! I went with 'realising they like you, and I actually added most of the dilfs. hope you enjoy 🤤🙏

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Realising He's In Love | ♡

characters: beckman, buggy, crocodile, dragon, mihawk, shanks, smoker

cw: fem!reader, crocodile's is suggestive,

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Beckman

Beckman realises his love for you on a random cold morning.

It's a very rare calm day aboard the force. Beckman, sitting in a chair on the deck, listens to those of his crewmates who are awake this early, navigating around the ship. He hears your voice humming a pretty tune. He hears the clanking of pans in the background, giving away your location.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees you dancing around and helping yourselves to Lucky Roux's ingredients.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks. He laughs as you jump, startled by his interruption.

“It's kind of chilly out, and you were running a little cold this morning, so I'm making us some nice warm breakfast,” you say, adding ingredients to a pan. Your desire to take care of him warms him up enough already. He walks up to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He buries his face into your neck as he hums in response. The domesticity of it slaps him in the face. A warmth spreads through his body. He understands, in this moment, what it is to truly love someone, but he'll keep it as his little secret for a while longer

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Buggy

Everyone is so mean to him. All his life, he's been treated poorly. Then he meets you; you're a subordinate of Mihawk's that he's brought along to the cross guild. Mihawk is a solitary creature, so the fact he keeps you around must mean you hold some value to him. This fact scares Buggy; it makes him distrust you, even if you're so kind to him.

You talk to him gently, offer to pour him drinks when he stops by Mihawk's tent and patch him up when his two business partners beat him down. At first, he thinks you have alternative motives, that this is a ploy, and you're going to hurt him in some way. Then, he thinks you're patronising him and taking pity on his poor soul.

It takes Mihawk stomping his boot down a little too hard, which causes you to step in and beg your boss to back off, to make him realise you genuinely care about him. You standing up to Mihawk despite what repercussions it may have is the day he realises that he doesn't ever want you to leave.

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Crocodile

He's pretty into you from the beginning, but he doesn't fall quickly. You're a colleague, a hard worker, and he likes you. He takes you to many galas and events and proposes that the two of you should work together more often. That leads to the two of you being tangled in the sheets, and Crocodile makes it clear to you that this ‘relationship’ is sexual in nature and nothing more. You're fond of the man, but you keep your feelings to yourself. Until one night when he needs to take his stress out and finds himself unable to be rough with you.

He doesn't lay your back against his sheets, doesn't flip you onto your front and squish your head into the pillows. Instead, in a move that baffles you, he asks you for a kiss. You oblige, seated on his lap on a soft velvet sofa. His hook caresses your leg, keeping you pressed to him while his hands explore you. You gently ask if he's ok, careful not to anger the beast beneath you. He nods, moving his kisses down to your neck. He feels it in his heart, his chest crumbling from the inside as he bares it to you with every kiss placed on your skin.

He laughs at himself as he remembers telling you this was nothing more than sex. What a fool he was.

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Dragon

Dragon and you are dating, and you have been for a while. He's quite frankly terrified of love. He's been there once, and it didn't work out for him. He takes things slowly with you. Every late-night talk and comforting hug in the privacy of your room pulls his heart deeper and deeper.

He realises just how deeply in love he is when he sees you standing with Koala, giving her some advice. Your heart is what attracted him to you in the first place. Seeing you so readily help other people makes him realise just how strongly he feels about you. He more than loves you; he admires you. He approaches you as Koala leaves, looking much calmer than she did before.

“Is she ok?”

“She's fine, honey. Are you ok?” It's a simple question of concern, but it still has his heart squeezing in a way he's never felt before. He kisses you softly, hoping the action will convey his feelings properly.

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Mihawk

He's very straightforward and to the point. He knows what he wants. He realises he likes you pretty much immediately after meeting you.

The first time he meets your eyes from across the bar, he plans to take you back to your home, entertain you and leave you before you wake the next morning. Then he strikes up a conversation with you, and everything changes.

“Can I buy you another drink?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to you.

“Please don't, this cheap wine tastes like shit. I could probably use this as a truth serum against my enemies” You bite, smacking your lips together at the bitter taste. Something about your attitude lights a flame in Mihawk. He's found a kindred spirit in you. A fine woman with a fine taste. Now he's intrigued by you, suddenly struck with a desire to know more.

So he starts talking to you about wine. There's no flirtation in his words, no exaggerated flattery or innuendo. He asks about you, divulges very little about himself and then tells you he found you interesting. He asks if you'd like to go home with him and see his much more impressive collection of wine. Of course, you accept. He lets you break open a well-aged bottle, drinking happily with you.

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Shanks

Oh, he's pathetic, actually. Everyone else realises before he does. He denies it with every fibre of his being. You've known each other for a long time. Every time you touch him, talk back to him, even look at him, his heart stirs. He has to tell himself the tightening of his chest is just the drink catching up to him.

After a night of drinking and joking, you go off to bed. When you part with your captain, you're so drunk that you don't even realise what you're doing and press a goodnight kiss to his cheek. You cart yourself off to bed, tiredly waving at your crew. You go to sleep, completely oblivious to the fact that Shanks is currently turning the colour of his hair while Yasopp and Roux tease him for it. Beckman gives him a look that says, ‘I told you so’.

“I'm not in love with her”, he groans as he's hit with flashes of all the times you've made his heart skip a beat. “ I just think she's beautiful, smart, talented, fun and” he pauses his sentence when he realises he's rambling, rambling about you. “I'm in love with her,” he sighs, putting his head in hand. What kind of captain falls for his crewmate?

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Smoker

Smoker doesn't realise until it's almost too late. The two of you are co-workers and have known each other for years. While working together, an enemy you hadn't noticed takes a shot at you, and Smoker puts himself in the line of fire. The bullet hits his ribcage, and enough of the soldiers under his command help him away to be seen by a doctor.

Seeing that bullet fly towards you had every missed opportunity to kiss you, cycling through his brain. He moved to save you, knowing it would harm him because he realised at that moment he would rather die than spend a single minute without you. He needs you to eat, breathe and sleep. He convinced himself at one point that you two were just inseparable friends, but the singular bullet in his torso had the truth bleeding out of him.

When he wakes up from surgery, you're sat in his hospital room, asleep in a chair next to his bed. His busy heart relaxes, seeing you safe and sound. He considers the bullet a silent vow of protection. A vow he will never break.

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thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading. comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn @quanxifangirl @mythicallystupid

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