#rosinante x reader

[fanaticsnail]

You're Angry at the Tall Men

Masterlist Here

I have two very dear mutual creators on here that are struggling with the flu. Hopefully yelling at the tall men of one-piece will help you both out: @feral-artistry & @sordidmusings

Word Count: 200-400 per gentleman: Buggy, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo

Warnings: anger, violence, suggestive spice for a few, angst, afab!implied but not overly mentioned, height difference.

First time writing for Cora, Croc and Doffy - mainly going off small clips and overall vibes. Apologies if I didn't do your blorbo justice.

(Apprehensive tag list: @gingernut1314, @writingmysanity)

He knows what he did to earn your wrath; your fury ignited in your eyes and the flames physically tangible and searing the room with your scorn. Your brow was furrowed, your lips curling into a snarl to bare your pearled teeth at him.

Buggy: 6’3

“Sit your tall ass down!” you roared at him. The clown shrieked back, immediately reaching his stuttering hands towards the back of a chair to unceremoniously fall back onto the wooden base. Unfortunately, as his ass barely grazes the base; his weight proceeds to fall from its intended target, plopping down onto the cement ground instead of finding comfort on the chair.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out alongside his wince, his red nose creased as he felt the pain shoot up his coxic bone and tingle up his spine. This moment of failure breaking a small crack in your iron fury, a giggle attempting to break through your anger. He winces his beautiful teal eyes up at you, cringing through the pain and gritting his teeth in an attempt of a smile.

“You are so pathetic,” you growled at him, extending your hand out and collecting his chin within your thumb and index finger. You were held captive by his sparkling eyes beneath his lengthy blue eyelashes as he looked up at you in awe.

“It’s why you love me, right?” he whimpered at you, his crooked smile drawing you in closer to him. You stooped, pressing a small kiss against his rotund, red nose.

“Yes,” you again growled at him, pouting with your brow falling low in the center of your forehead, “but I’m still angry at you.”

“I know,” he grumbled in response, his eyes upturning and almost pleading, “but I can fix that, right?”

Shanks: 6’6

“Woah, woah, love!” he cried out, backing away from your approach with his wide smile plastered to his cheeks. He was still smiling, even when you backed him against the wall with your forearm horizontally pressing him back into the wooden banister behind him.

“You absolute stupid, ridiculous, drunken-,” one look into his loving eyes rendered you immediately defenseless to his aura. He looked at you with such love, his brown eyes holding only softness and adoration within them. He brings up his arm, choosing to caress your cheek and lace a loose strand of your hair to hook over your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into you, leaning his head down and moving his lips against your forehead to murmur into your skin, “forgive me, I didn’t mean it.” Inhaling a deep breath, you feel the rage falling away from you as he continued murmuring sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re angry,” he breathed his raspy voice into your ear.

“And you’re so handsome when you’re not the one making me angry,” you growled back at him.

Mihawk 6’6

“Mihawk!” your rumbled growl echoed in the high ceilings lifting the light in the large dining room. He was stooping, fingertips halting their descent to grasp the back of his dining chair. He huffed out a sigh, rotating his neck and removing his hat from his head. He placed the hat on his dining setting, and prepared himself to receive your wrath.

As soon as you saw him preparing himself to receive the scorn you were about to bear down on him, you decided to switch it up. Something about how smug he was did not satiate your fire from erupting further. You had every intention of taking him by his wrist and leading him to the impressive steps of the foyer and taking a few steps up to bring you to the appropriate height to maintain eye contact as you reprimanded him.

But his ear was right there, no longer shielded by his broad hat to halt your action. Immediately, you pressed your index and middle finger against the overly sensitive shell of his ear and began dragging him towards the archway leading to the foyer.

“Not quite so hard, dear,” he winced as his steps stuttered behind you. You allowed a sinister smirk to rise on your lips, gaining a sickening amount of joy from knowing you were paining him a little to satisfy your wrath. As your feet found the steps, you relinquished your hold on his ear and turned to face him, your eyes first glancing at the raven curls atop his head that you rarely are accustomed to seeing these days. His head was bowed, his hand drawn up to cradle his ear and sooth over the throbbing shell. At this, your anger ceased and you immediately sought out his eyes by cupping his cheeks and elevating his face.

“I’m sorry, my love. Did I hurt you, are you okay?” you hastily spoke, eyes checking over his face for any semblance of hurt or pain.

“Only my pride, dear,” he replied in a soft grumble, continuing to keep his eyes from joining with your own. You sighed in relief before shaking your head to remind yourself why you brought him here in the first place. You furrowed your brow and slunk your hands from his cheeks to fall them against his chest.

“I’m-,” you began, your angry words halted by Mihawk taking a step forward and pressing his forehead against your own.

“-I’m sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered into your face, his eyes half lidded and sorrow falling over his face, “I never meant to hurt you, and I’m willing to spend all the time it takes to make it up to you.”

Sir Crocodile 8’3

Clutching his cigar in his index and middle fingers, he flicked the ash into the glass and gold tray on his desk. He could hear the fall of your feet outside the door, his jaw falling slack in bored frustration. 

“You devious bastard,” you growled as the door to his office flung open. He inhaled deeply, reaching into his desk drawer and pulling out another cigar to clench his teeth onto. As your eyes met, his brow arched while his eyelids hung half-lidded. He sat back against his armchair and uncrossed his legs from their join of the knees. Remaining wordless, he fished around in his pants for his lighter, to find nothing but his golden pocket watch and a few rolls of berry within his leatherbound wallet.

“Be a dear and find me a light,” he dismissed your anger with the wave of his hand as his eyes searched his desk for his capped lighter. This seemed to engage your fury further, making you immediately lunge at him and crawl onto his lap. You drew your claw-shaped grip up to his jaw, snarling into his face as you did so.

“You think I care about your lighter right now, you arrogant lizard,” you spat at him. His eyes widened in surprise, initially being taken off guard by your presence atop his thigh. Immediately after processing the shock, his eyes darkened as he used his large, golden hook to circle around your thigh; trapping it within the metal and drawing it closer into him. Your kneeling position atop his lap was now made ever more dangerous than it had been, not knowing how he would truly respond to your anger. Both of your tempers began to flare as he snarled at you.

“Lighter first,” he growled at you, looking up into your enraged eyes as your hair cascaded down over his face, draped almost intimately over his forehead. You scoffed, flicking the hair over your shoulder and grimaced at him in response. 

“And why should I do that after what you did?” you gnashed your teeth, baring your rage in your now untested situation. The tense air now growing thick and dense as your bodies pressed closer together. He gripped your hips with his hand, his golden hook scraping over your thigh and placing your knee over his waist as he drew you closer. 

“Lighter first,” he began to snarl at you, “or I will channel your rage in another way.”

“Try me, Reptile,” you snarled at him, clenching your teeth as you stooped lower into his face. He immediately stood, his tall body hoisting you up against his hips and slamming your back atop his desk. He hovered over your body, leaning his face down and snarling into you,

“You should’ve just done what you were told,” He growled into your neck.

“You shouldn't have pissed me off,” you gnashed your teeth once more, your eyes widening as you felt his teeth bite down hard on your clavicle, soothing over the new injury with his tongue. 

Corazon 9’7

“Donquixote Rosinante!” you shouted, walking around the halls and tracking the stupor of his step. You immediately heard a thud, followed by several crashing booms reverberating within the hallway. None of these sounds halted your descent, your rage and fury propelling your steps further towards him.

When your eyes fell over his body, he was hoisting himself up from his entanglement with several cleaning products; a mop over his head and a bucket circling over his left foot. He looked ridiculous, his coat hanging limply from his shoulders over his open heart-stitched shirt.

As he rose to his feet, you were taken aback at how truly tall he was; his body towering over your own. You lost your nerve slightly at his stature, but still the edges of your body remained singed with the fires of rage within your soul.

“Cora-!” your words were halted by the man drawing such anger from you wordlessly holding up his palm to silence you. Your brows fell further down your face, your frown deepening as you watched him silently search his surroundings. His eyes widened first, before softening as he stooped down to collect the bucket that was once wrapped around his foot. He blew over the base of the bucket with a small puff of breath, placing the brim on the ground and dusting the base with the back of his hand.

He turned his painted face up to you, a tight smile pulling at his mouth as he extended his hand to you. You sucked in a breath through your nostrils, pouting as you took his hand. Stepping up onto the bucket, you still remained short to his great height. Still holding onto your hand, his smile softened as he bent at the knees to crouch in front of you, looking up into your face with eyes baring great sorrow at how angry you were with him.

Relinquishing the hold against your hand, he gestured for you to bare your soul out to him with a simple swipe of his hands. He was so willing to have you share your emotions with him, it almost made you want to cry with frustration at how truly loving he was to you. 

“You’re just going to sit back and take it? Say something, Cora. Anything!” You screamed, the sting of tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. He continued to watch on, never once rising from his crouch, nor bringing his eyes away from searching your face. It was only when a hot, frustrated tear fell from your eye down your cheek that he rose up to his full size once more. 

He wordlessly drew his palm up to claim your cheek, his thumb brushing the tear away from its descent down towards your mouth. 

“Please,” you whimpered while searching his eyes, “please say something.”

He leant forward, pressing his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, circling the other arm around your shoulders and holding your chest flush with his own. His lips found the crown of your head, pressing a soft and careful kiss against the top of your hair.

“Calm,” he uttered, the room circled around him by the spark of his devil-fruit power. You looked at him confused, your nostrils flaring at him while still expressing your anger. 

“Why use the devil-fruit powers now?” you asked him, shaking your head at him as all else in the hallway was silenced. No taps of feet, no drips of taps, nor the sounds of breeze through the trees outside the room could be heard within the silent barrier. 

“Because I want everyone to know how angry you are with me,” he uttered, his nose lovingly brushing against your own, “And I want to be able to scream how much I love you with no consequence.” He pressed his lips against your forehead, smearing his red face paint against your skin as he trailed a flurry of gentle kisses against your nose, cheek bones and the corner of your lips in an attempt to smother the flames of your anger. 

“This doesn’t make up for what you did,” you spat at him, your narrowed eyes looking at him through your eyelashes remaining dark with fury.

“I know,” he admitted, unwrapping his arm from circling your shoulders. He grazed his arm down and collected your hand once more within his, lacing your fingers together as he uttered, “I’m so sorry, my darling. I’ll never do it again.”

Doflamingo 10’

He was immediately expressing joy at how riled up he had managed to make you, his lips curling back into a sinister smile. He darted his tongue out over his mouth to dampen his chapped lip before he allowed a rumbly chuckle to exit from his chest.

“Doflamingo!” You screamed, rage and fury overcasting your usual stoic state with their venom. He rose to his feet and was almost bursting at the seams with how happy getting a rise from you was making him.

“How dare you?! How dare you do that to me?!” You roared, not halting your approach in any way. He towered over you, his lanky build condescendingly casting his feathered silhouette over your body.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he shrugged, speaking quickly with a broad grin continuing to polish his cheeks. His eyes remained hidden by his glasses, your own eyes beginning to prick at the corners with a frustrated rage.

“Wipe that horrible grin off your face before I rip it off,” you spat, your hands demonstrating how truly violent your thoughts were.

“Only if you do it with your teeth, Princess,” he bore his teeth down at you. His smile widened further up his cheeks, your urge to claw out his eyes not satisfied in the slightest. You impulsively swung your hand at his face, your wrist caught within his circled grip. His laughter erupted over his chest at this small demonstration of violence, so easily stifled by his hands.

“Ohh, you’ve got some fire in you today,” he chucked his taunt at you, leaning down further into you; his nose almost brushing against your own with how close he drew himself down to you, “What I’d give to see that demonstrated with your body wrapped around my- AHH.” You halted his words within his mouth by clamping your teeth down against his nose hard enough to draw blood. After tasting the metallic flavor roll over your tongue, you withdrew your teeth from his flesh and bore your red-tinted lips at him.

He reached up to clutch the scruff of your neck, pulling you closer into him and purring a roar of his own into you:

“Mmm, Harder.”

[lehguru]

THINK YOU NEED SOMEONE YOUNGER + ONE PIECE MEN

they start to realize they might be a little too old for you ft. crocodile, mihawk, smoker, shanks, doflamingo, corazon

info: will do this for other fandoms too i think, angsty on some; not proofread

crocodile never felt insecure, at least when it came to your relationship. after he left impel down and came to look for you, things got a little... weird. he was avoiding you. you knew it wasn't because he didn't want to bring you into his business (he did it more than once), it was something you didn't really understand. before you could even confront him about it, he said out of nowhere one day: "did you... get with anyone while i was away?" he looked at you with a hard stare. "someone... younger?" you almost laughed at his question, but you held yourself back. your arms circled his waist and you rested your chin on his chest. 'i don't know anyone younger that is as attractive as you, sir.' he grinned, holding the back of your head with his hand. "good."

mihawk noticed how you and zoro interacted during his time at the island. he wasn't suspicious that something was happening, he knew you would never cheat on him or break his trust; but... a thought started to spread in his mind like poison. once zoro and perona left, and you two finally managed to carry on with your married life alone, he asked you one day while you drank tea together. "how do you feel about me being... older?" you looked at him with raised eyebrows and 'the only thing that matters to me is you. i fell in love with your personality and the way you treat me, not your age.' he hummed, a deep sound that you know reverberated on his chest. even if it was faint, you could see a soft pink dusting his cheeks.

smoker didn't think about your age gap until he overheard some of the new recruits talking about you two. captain smoker having a younger partner is a little weird isn't it, was what they said. when he was back home and you were resting against his chest, softly playing with the hair on the area, he told you about it. you looked up, your eyes shining, 'old pan makes good food'. the laughter that left his lips was one that he always reserved for you, his most sincere and genuine laugh; he pressed his lips on the top of your head, murmuring praises and love confessions against your hair.

shanks really didn't care about it, not as much as other members of his crew did – with how well they knew their captain, the man would be destroyed if you decided to leave him. 'she might go for a younger guy, when your thing doesn't get up anymore.' they usually voiced their concerns in the form of jokes, so they wouldn't be too harsh on their captain, but it was effective. those comments made him start to realize what you two were – lovers. one day, without telling you, he and the crew left. simply left the island, leaving you behind with only an note written "don't look for me." in a messy manner.

one thing about doflamingo is that he gets whatever he wants whenever he wants. and since the moment he laid eyes on you, you were his. the people that tried to comment on your age gap always "mysteriously" disappeared, even if they were from inside his organization. no one could talk about him and his partner like that. if he ever brought up the topic, it was only to test if you were seeing anyone or wanted someone younger (he knows you don't. he knows everything); your praises towards him and your love always left him pleased – he would give you the same in return.

corazon is frequently insecure about your relationship. he wonders if you really love him, if he's good enough for you, if he's being a good boyfriend, if he missed any important date that he should've remembered – your age gap (made worse by your height gap too) is only another one of those concerns. no matter what you say, he often asks you if you wouldn't want to be with someone younger and with a better family than him. one day, after he asked that for the millionth time, you answered: "we can have a family of our own, rosi. you deserve happiness. you said once i made you happy, so i will stay. the only way you're going to get rid of me is if one of us is gone." he chuckled and smiled widely, as he often did around you and law, hugging you tightly against his body. 'i adore you. with all my heart and soul, i love you.'

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[innerfare]

Kisses - Part 2 

Summary: How do they kiss you?

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

Genre: Fluff, Slight Smut

CW: Slight Smut so I'll say NSFW // messy kisses, hickies, brief implication of oral sex

——— 

Shanks:

You’d better like the taste of liquor, weed, and cigarettes because that’s what this man tastes like. And you know that’s what this man tastes like because his tongue is always in your mouth, his scruff pushing against your cheeks. He has no sense of propriety, and you’ve probably made out in front of the crew more times than you haven’t. You’ve also made out on the beach, in countless dark alleyways, and just about anywhere else he can convince you to have him. He’s the type to shove his tongue down your throat, but what he really wants is for you to shove yours down his throat. 

Beckman:

Doesn’t kiss you in public (or show any affection in public, really). You’re the type of couple that nobody can tell is together. But when you’re behind closed doors, you’ll receive quite a few different types of kisses: the deep and sensual kisses that always lead to something more, the slow kisses down your neck when he’s tired but wants you so bad, the lingering kisses he places on either your cheek or hand when his mind is elsewhere, the sweet kisses on your forehead before he rolls out of bed in the morning. And when his mind is elsewhere, the best way to get him out of his head is to kiss up his biceps and across his broad shoulders. 

Crocodile:

His kisses are hot and heavy with the expectation of something more. He’s rough about it, too, grabbing your face in his hand and squeezing your cheeks as he steers your lips onto his. He rarely kisses you outside of the bedroom. Doesn’t do sweet pecks on the lips, doesn’t kiss anything better. Although, on a few occasions (you can count them on one hand over the course of more than a decade), he has slipped into bed late at night and pressed a warm kiss onto your shoulder. It doesn’t sound like much, but by Crocodile’s standards, a kiss on the shoulder is a marriage proposal. Will also allow you to kiss anywhere on his body. 

Mihawk:

So sensual when he kisses you. Mihawk is an incredible kisser, thanks to a lot of practice in his youth, though these days he’s far more picky about who he chooses to kiss. Almost always has his hands on your face when he does it. Often runs his tongue across your lips before pushing it into your mouth. Will talk to you between kisses, telling you how much he missed you and calling you, “my love,” or, “my little bird.” Very into hickies, particularly in private places. Goes a little crazy if you kiss his hands, especially if you play with them first (foreplay is important). 

Corazon:

A very energetic kisser in that he just gets so excited to be able to kiss you that he can hardly contain himself, his body practically vibrating with eagerness. He always grins into it, and he never misses an opportunity to pick you up while his lips are on yours. He’s kind of inconsistent about tongue because he doesn’t want to come on too strong but he’s also just so overwhelmed by the fact that he’s kissing you and you’re kissing him back that he can’t keep his tongue out of your mouth. 

Smoker:

He’s actually such a sweet kisser- sweet in general, not that the world knows. When he comes home from work, he leaves his weapons at the door, and that includes the tough guy persona (he’s still tough as nails, sure, but he’ll make dinner with you and sit in the bathtub). He always places a sweet kiss on your lips when he walks through the door, though it definitely escalates if he’s been away for more than a week (so basically, it always escalates). He places a sweet kiss on your lips basically every fifteen minutes you’re alone together. When it is heavier, he’s measured in his use of tongue. And the way to his heart is to kiss your way down his muscular chest.  

Marco:

It always starts small. He doesn’t intend to escalate, just sees that you’re walking away and wants to give you a quick kiss before you’re parted. But then he’s pushing you into the wall and you’re running your hands up and down his chest and he’s moaning into the kiss and- well, it never ends small. If he gives you a peck on the lips, within just a few seconds, he is groping you. His kisses often feel desperate, as if he’s worried he won’t be able to do it again, and have a way of lingering on your lips long after they’re finished. 

———

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

[viiiiiiiiiin]

How they confess their love for you !! PT. 3

Includes: Nami , Law , Kid , Caesar , Ace , Sabo , Doflamingo , Rosinante.

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 (here)

Masterlist

Cat Burglar: Nami

She could tell , but she was good at hiding it. She felt like she didn't deserve you , so she never tried to make a move.

Until her feelings continuously grew and grew. She couldn't stand it.

Why did you make her feel like this ? You were so kind to her , but so was the rest of the crew. Why were you different ?

To her , you were special. She'd find herself looking at things in stores that she thinks you'd like.

One day , she brought one of those things to the Sunny after a big battle.

She was worried about losing you , but she knew you could handle yourself. But you got injured. Very , very injured. She was extremely worried because you've been out for days.

She came to your bedside and placed a jewel on the bedside. She sat on the bed next to your sleeping form and started talking to you as if you could hear.

Little did she know , her presence awoke you.

She told you how she felt and called you stupid for getting so hurt. While she was crying , you placed your bruised hand on her arm and told her you felt the same.

She was so surprised that she slapped you and started shaking you violently for worrying her.

Surgeon of Death: Trafalgar D. Water Law

At first , he thought something was wrong with him. He stayed up for nights on end trying tor research what could be wrong with him.

He looked up his symptoms in any book he could find. He knew a lot of illnesses because he was a doctor , but this was foreign to him. It worried him. Was it something like White Lead ?

He continues searching. Heated body (similar to a fever) , heart skipping beats irregularly , clammy hands , etc.

The only conclusion he could draw was the love sickness that any former Empress from Amazon Lily had.

But he wasn't an empress. Then , it clicked. He was in love. He wasn't sick , he was just LOVE sick. For you , no less.

He talked to Ikaku about how he felt and she squealed happily at his confession.

She bombarded him with advice , flowers , snacks , etc. She told him to just tell you.

When he gathered the courage , he did just that. He brought those flowers to your desk and waited for you. When you came in , the anxiety set in.

He cleared his throat and nervously confessed his feelings for you.

You laughed and told him you felt the same. He felt like a weight was lifted from his chest.

Eustass "Captain" Kid

Similarly to Law , he thought he was sick. He stayed in his office for DAYS , mostly to avoid you.

He thought you were sick too. How else did he feel sick around you ? You were contagious.

He told Killer about his sickness and he laughed his ass off at him.

Kid yelled at him and told him to stop , but he didn't.

When Killer calmed himself , he told Kid that he was a dumbass. That he wasn't sick , but in love.

Why would he be in LOVE ? THE Captain Kid !

He denied it and shooed Killer out.

But Killer pushed him to tell you. Every. Day.

Eventually , he caved.

When you brought him dinner , his mouth spewed out all he felt. He turned extremely red and angirly grumbled.

That was until you kissed his chin and told him you felt the same.

He turned even redder and shooed you out of his office.

Caesar Clown

He didn't actually understand why he fell in love with you. Was it your power ? Your looks ? Your influence ? He wasn't sure.

Everyone noticed. He would literally stumble around and make mistakes whenever you come around.

Monet teased him about it often. He shut down everything she said and would yell at her for even suggesting that he liked you.

He's had hookups and such before , but he's never fallen in love with any of his flings. He was a master scientist , why would he need love ?

But he fell for you.

Hard , actually.

He tried his best to avoid you but it never worked. You were stronger than him , so you had to protect him. That was your job.

While working in another part of his lab , Monet just straight up told you that he's in love with you.

You laughed and told her that you knew. You followed her to his current location , and you both told him what you conversed about.

He was embarrassed as hell and yelled at both of you.

He shooed Monet out and talked to you in private.

He , nervously , told you that it was true.

You told him you felt the same way and shocked the hell outta him.

Firefist: Portgas D. Ace

It was SO obvious to the entire crew.

He would become nervous and a blushing mess around you.

Even Whitebeard noticed.

Ace didn't , however.

He was never actually in love. He has had hookups , yes , but never a significant other. He didnt feel as if he deserved love.

But you made him feel like he did.

You were so sweet to him and would love him like he was your lover.

Marco , Thatch , and Izo would tease him about his little crush on you. Anytime they did , he denied it.

But Izo told you one day while you two were hanging out.

You told him that you felt the same way.

Izo and Thatch pushed you two together and got you both to confess in the kitchen

When you both confirmed that you were dating , the entire crew threw a party.

They just wanted an excuse to party. Sigh.

Flame Emperor: Sabo

Koala noticed before he did , but he noticed a bit after.

He chose not to act on it , however. He was too busy with the Revolutionary Army for a relationship.

But Koala was OBSESSED with the idea of you and him dating. She would continuously tell anyone who would listen about how much she shipped you and him.

She even told Dragon.

Dragon supports.

One day , Koala sets you two up in the kitchen of the current Revolutionary base.

She locks you both in there and leaves , waiting for you both to confess.

You confessed first because he wouldn't budge.

He told you he felt the same.

Hours after being locked in there , you both had fallen asleep together in the corner when Koala came to get you both.

She took pictures and showed them to Dragon.

Heavenly Demon: Donquixote Doflamingo

He knew he was obsessed with you. He always wanted you close , would kill anyone that was brave enough to confess to you , etc.

He's had many flings (men and women) , but he threw them away like they were toys.

But you were different to him.

You were headstrong , brave , and quite strong. It intrigued him.

How you held onto your dreams like they were part of the last meal you'd ever eat.

How you were so kind , even if he degraded you and hurt you.

You always came back.

One day , he called you to his throne room. While you sat in front of him , he offered you a place in the family as his Queen / King / Royal.

You weren't allowed to deny. If you said no , he would cut your head off. But you didn't even think of that.

You were in love with him too and told him so.

Now , you're the Queen / King / Royal of Dressrosa alongside your king , Doflamingo.

Corazon: Donquixote Rosinante

When you joined the Donquixote Family , he knew he had to get you out of there. Just like the children.

He normally wouldn't care about the others in the family because it wasn't his mission. However , your heart wasn't in the same place as theirs.

It intrigued him.

You were kind , smart , caring , and you took care of Baby 5 , Buffalo , and Law as if they were your own.

He immediately fell in love with you.

When taking Law away from Dressrosa , he took you with him and explained everything.

While Law slept on an island one day , he confessed his feelings to you by the fire he started.

He was red in the face and extremely nervous. He even lit himself on fire.

After dousing him in water , you told him you felt the same.

But smacked him and told him to be careful because he hurt himself.

[grandline-fics]

Oou can you do one piece men catching you in their clothes?? I've always liked this trope (?) cause i just find it so cute especially one who have like giant coats and capes like coras :D

DESCRIPTION: They catch you wearing their clothes

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff. established relationship with Crocodile. Mutual crush in Cora's/Rosi's

CHARACTERS: Crocodile, Corazon

WORDS: 1,749

A/N: Thank you for this request! I'm a sucker for this trope. Since no specific characters were requested I went for Cora and Croc because of the big coats. If you'd like any other characters for this idea just let me know! This was my first time writing for Cora so hopefully I did him justice and that you're happy with the end results for these.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

CROCODILE

You admired Crocodile for his rigid work ethic and extreme focus, always making sure everything was done perfectly and without error. Even in the days of running a casino simply to act as a cover for his real dealings in Alabasta he made sure it was run smoothly and properly. However sometimes his hard work interfered with any time you two could actually spend together because of how focussed he'd become. You never needed to bring this up to him because when he did have the time to tear himself away from his work it was you he immediately sought and would comment about how much he’d been away from you. You were more than used to his behaviour by now. However one afternoon as you leant against the doorframe and watched him work diligently a curious thought that you’d never really considered before crept into your mind; what would pull his focus and make Crocodile immediately stop working?

At first you decided to start small, bringing him lunch and set it on his desk, watching as he murmured a thanks and managed to perfectly skewer the sandwich with his hook and ate it without any spilling out. As he ate, his eyes remained on the paperwork he was writing. With pursed lips you stepped behind his chair and slowly draped your arm around his shoulder. Your hand settled on his chest just as he finished eating. “Hey, love. Can-?”

“Anything you want.” Crocodile’s response was automatic and his body was still unmoving from his work. You couldn’t help but find his reaction endearing, that Crocodile's want to give you anything you desired managed to break partially through his focus but it wasn't the real break in attention you wanted. 

You weren’t even going to initially ask him for anything in particular, just a mundane question to see if he'd answer. Now though he'd practically given you permission for anything you could think of. Smiling you pressed a quick kiss against his cheek and straightened, your fingers skimming against the large fur-lined coat draped over his shoulders as you did so and suddenly an idea came to you. With casual strides you made your way to your shared room with Crocodile and threw open the doors to his wardrobe. Your eyes roamed over his clothes with appreciation, everything made with the best quality materials by the finest tailors. Sometimes you felt hesitant to touch such finery but not today, he'd given you permission after all. Immediately your eyes went to your favourite coat he owned. The deep black fabric and matching fur trim were simple but striking and with the gold buttons and dark green satin lining it was just enough to draw anyone's eye. 

With a hum you slipped the coat on and grinned in the mirror at how the garment wrapped around you. It was so long on you that it trailed behind you. Leaving the room you walked back down the corridor, trying not to enjoy how his coat billowed behind you. It made sense know why he wore them now. You glanced up to see you were nearing his office and you decided that first you were going to simply walk by the open door. However you were no sooner passed the doorway when a gust of sand appeared and wrapped around your waist, lifting you off of your feet and pulling you backwards and into the room with the door closing behind you. Perched on Crocodile’s desk you stared at your lover as he sat back in his seat, watching you intently and his paperwork abandoned. “Care to explain?”

“Was curious.” You shrugged with a triumphant smile, having succeeded your goal.

“About?” 

“Wondered what it’d take to distract you from your work.”

“Dear, just because I’m looking at my work doesn't mean I’m never aware of your presence.” Crocodile explained as he gently took hold of the lapel of his coat that you were wearing and pulled you closer. Usually he loved the sight of you out of clothes but he had to admit seeing you in something of his only deepened his feelings of possessiveness, an extra claim that you were his   not that that was ever in doubt. “I will admit this is a sight I could get used to, although I think my work would certainly suffer as a result.”

“Still not seeing a downside to this.” You grinned up at him with a smug smile as you settled your hand over his. “I’m keeping this one by the way.”

“My love, it’s a commissioned make. No other exists. Wouldn’t you settle for your own? One that fits you better?” He was mostly teasing. Of course if your heart was set on it he wouldn’t object but would still plan on stealing it from you should the occasion call for it.

“I think this one suits me just fine but I'll be kind and share but only if I’m repaid with a kiss.”

“You have yourself a deal.”

CORAZON / ROSINANTE

Rosinante stared out at the wintery expanse blankly, his dark eyes set on the people bustling about in the town below. They were used to the terrain, born and raised on the winter dominated island. With it being a day with light snowfall and cracks of blue appearing in the sky the people seemed in lighter spirits. Nice to see but it made his task of observing a possible threat harder. It was rare to have a mission set for him by his brother also overlap and bring some good for the Marines too but they did happen. If this man did prove himself to be a danger, he’d be dealt with swiftly and it’d be one less criminal in the world. Doffy would be satisfied too, not that that particular aspect would be a big factor in his actions but it would mean his undercover role would remain intact.

He blinked out of his concentration when the cigarette in his mouth was promptly stolen from his painted lips and he looked to see you stub it out into the snow with a low fizzle. Rosinante said nothing and continued to observe you as you settled onto the flattened patch of snow beside him. Feeling his stare you met his gaze and smiled sweetly. “Don't pout. I’m just looking out for your health here. Any movement?” 

At your question, Rosinante activated his power to create the soundproof area for you both. While you were both concealed from the view of others he never liked to take any chances of your conversations to be heard. With you here, your own cover was just as at risk as his should the wrong person find out and the last thing he wanted was to put you in danger even though you too had given your life to that of a double agent and spy. “Nothing yet.”

Getting to hear Rosinante’s deep voice always made you happy, part of you always thought he might be lonely in some strange way in having to remain silent in order to keep his true role a secret. It also made you happy because it meant you were someone he trusted in revealing his voice too, and what a lovely voice it was too. Such a shame practically no-one got to hear it. Knowing your roles and what you were here to do, you both kept conversation to a minimum, Rosinante using his notepad to make longer notes to you while also keeping the feathers of his coat in front of his mouth to hide his minimal verbal responses just in case someone should spot you both and see his lips moving.

For ages you both sat and fulfilled your watch until you both noticed the sun setting. Still no further forward in confirmation of the threat and his rumoured weapons smuggling from his store, you both knew that you’d have another day of investigating ahead of you. With a tired groan you stood and finally took note of how cold and numb your limbs were because of the snow. Smiling you offered your hand to your partner and helped him get to his feet. 

However his unfortunately chronic clumsiness finally reared its head and Rosinante tumbled over, knocking you back down onto the untouched snow pile away from where you'd both been sitting in and now you were soaked and your body immediately began to tremble. With chattering teeth and shaking hands you allowed yourself to be pulled out of the snow by a very apologetic Rosinante who'd managed to stay dry. You could barely brush the excess snow off of yourself and seeing your struggle, your mission partner stepped in, dusting you off as gently as possible but only kept his movements reserved for your head and shoulders. As much as he’d known his attraction for you, he refused to touch you in anyway that would make you uncomfortable regardless of how innocent his intentions were. He just knew he’d need to get you warm fast to avoid you getting sick.

You’d never been more happy to step into the room at the inn you and Rosinante were sharing, making a beeline for the bathroom to shower and get warm. When you were changed into fresh clothes you felt the difference but the chill still clung to your body and you shivered harshly as you stepped out into the room, confused to see Rosinante was gone but the fire in the room was burning with his feather coat hanging near it. Swiftly you hurried forward and bundled the coat into your arms to avoid another accident from occurring. With a sigh and shake of your head you went to set his coat on his bed only to pause when you felt how soft and warm it was. Unable to resist you pulled it on and curled up in one of the armchairs. Finally feeling your body heat you sighed in satisfaction.

Rosinante returned not long after with an extra blanket that he’d been searching for under his arm. He froze at the sight and his heart involuntarily began to beat faster. Seeing you so peaceful and wrapped up in his clothes it was more than he could bear. He didn’t think his affection and attraction for you could grow anymore but it did and from such a simple thing. It made him all the more resolved to ensure that he would keep you safe.

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[luffington]

hello!! 🩷 may i request a doflamingo and corazon x fem!reader (nsfw)? these brothers are very much different from one another so i feel like corazon would always scold doffy for being mean to y/n lol. but somehow corazon himself also has a nasty streak in him when he's fucking her and doffy knows it

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader x donquixote rosinante (corazon)

➤ word count: 1.7k

➤ warnings: threesome, oral (m receiving), choking, bondage, degradation, creampie, corazon is mute, she/her for reader

nothing physical happens between doffy and cora but doffy is still a freak so read at your own risk!

ugHHHH the concept ever!!!! i think about this so much more than i should.... there's no way cora's a 100% pure virtuous angel boy he's gotta have some very repressed darkness in him

i briefly threw this in but i LOVE the idea of doffy being weirdly possessive of the name rosinante and who gets to call him that. their dynamic is sooooo interesting but we'll never see more of it thanks oda >:(

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

The Donquixote brothers didn’t want to look like each other. But stripped bare and shadowed in dim bedroom light, the similarities were uncanny.

Soft blonde hair ruffled by your fingers and slicked back from sweat. Long and lanky limbs, big hands that felt calloused when they ran across your naked skin. Perfectly sculpted bodies littered with decades worth of scars. You had only seen the older brother without sunglasses one time, and their strikingly beautiful eyes side by side made your breath catch in your throat. 

This bizarre situation began many months ago, not long after you joined the Donquixote Family. At first, you could easily figure out which brother was touching you – the soft kisses of a gentle giant or the fangs of a hungry beast. Doflamingo had actually blindfolded you once for that exact purpose with the promise of rewarding you if you got every answer correct. And you did. But you hated not being able to see Corazon, and hated how much Doflamingo enjoyed taking away his brother’s only form of communication.

Now, it was harder to tell them apart.

Strings wrapped around your waist, your thighs, your tits. Kept your hands tightly bound behind your back. Doflamingo had you speared on his cock and bounced you up and down with marionette motions like an actual puppet. His massive length stretched your insides delightfully and kissed the tip of your cervix with every thrust. He intentionally positioned your back to his chest so you could look at his brother, sitting cross-legged in front of you near the edge of the bed. Corazon’s gaze lingered on your debauched expression and the way your soft flesh bulged around Doflamingo’s too-tight strings. Jaw hanging slack as he stroked off his own dick, long and veiny and already beginning to leak precum. 

The younger’s face paint was almost completely smeared off – streaks of maroon coated your mouth like badly applied lipstick and littered your inner thighs. Practically indistinguishable from the red lines inflicted by Doflamingo’s strings. 

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Doflamingo purred. His brother nodded immediately as if in a trance. “What a pretty little toy.”

Corazon didn’t like that term. He would never treat you like an object the way his brother did – he cherished you as he believed any partner should be. But he couldn’t deny how the thought of using you for his own pleasure made his cock twitch, especially since you enjoyed it. You were so pliant and willing for him, for both of them. 

Satisfied by the younger’s response, Doflamingo wrapped a large hand around your throat, his long fingers digging into the delicate skin. You coughed and sputtered as your airway was slowly cut off. Corazon immediately stopped jerking off to grab the pen and notepad next to him, quickly scribbling ‘Too rough!!!’ in his messy handwriting and angrily holding it in front of his brother. 

The older man chuckled, but released your neck and stroked over his fingerprint marks in mock kindness. 

You leaned forward to kiss Corazon, who clumsily knocked his nose against yours in his haste to reciprocate. It was truly baffling how one brother could make your heart melt with fondness while the other rearranged your guts. Corazon kissed you languidly, content to take his time and savor the feeling of your tongues swirling together.

“You taste like cigarettes,” you giggled. He always did, but the taste was especially fresh and potent, making your head spin pleasantly. 

Corazon frowned and signed ‘I’m sorry’. 

“Don’t apologize, I like it. It tastes like you.” He grinned in response. Corazon was actually just beginning to learn sign language, since he hadn’t needed it before his current mission, and you took the time to learn to communicate with him. It made his heart swell with love.

Doflamingo frowned at the tender moment and abruptly pushed your head into his brother’s lap. “Well, don’t just fucking stare at him. Be a good slut and suck Rosi off.”

Rosinante. What a beautiful name. You wished you were always allowed to use it, not just when you were alone with him. Doflamingo would break your legs if he heard you utter the sacred name which only true Donquixotes were permitted to say.

Corazon gave his brother another dirty glare, but covered his mouth and fought to hold back a moan when you kitten-licked the base of his cock, suckling on his balls delicately. He wished his soundproofing abilities came with a control panel – it was nearly impossible for him to stay silent with your perfect mouth on him, but he needed to hear your sweet moans as you lapped at his dick. 

Your head jerked back suddenly in time with a twitch of Doflamingo’s fingers. “Pathetic whore can’t follow directions? I said suck.” He forced your head down again without giving you time to open your mouth. Your string-controlled movements made you awkwardly rub your cheek against the head of Corazon’s cock, smearing precum on your skin. 

The younger immediately started scribbling another angry note. But then you ran your tongue along the part of his length you could reach and he dropped his notepad, too consumed by pleasure to finish his thought. 

You finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, causing Corazon to let out a shaky sigh. “Better, right?” Doflamingo smiled sadistically, pushing your head further down his brother’s dick. The older blonde fucked you deep and slow, making you feel every vein and ridge of his cock as you rose just to harshly slam you down to the base. 

One of Corazon’s hands rested on the back of your head as you bobbed up and down. He watched with hooded eyes as you slurped along his cock, little bits of drool running past your lips and dripping down to his balls. You were so close to fitting his entire length in your throat – a truly impressive feat – and you pushed yourself a bit farther than you could handle. When your throat constricted in protest, Corazon couldn’t help but hold you down and throw his head back with parted lips. Your gag reflex immediately kicked in and you choked around his cock, lungs desperately seeking air but his hand stayed locked in place. You looked up at him pleadingly and found a sense of twisted wonder in his eyes. His lips quirked into a fascinated smile as he wiped away a drop of moisture spilling from your eye. 

When your moans became louder and more insistent, Corazon let you go. You pulled off of his dick, sputtering and gasping for air, chin coated in your own saliva. It took him a moment to snap back to reality and realize that the wetness he felt was a teardrop. 

‘Are you okay?’ He signed in a panic, followed by frantic gestures of, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–’

“Don’t worry. I’m okay.” You reassured him with a smile as he apologetically wiped away any remaining traces of tears. “You liked it, right? Making me gag?”

Corazon looked away, feeling incredibly guilty and irredeemably dirty.

Doflamingo cackled, stilling his movements with his cock buried deep inside you. “Did you just apologize for getting good head? Oh, poor little Rosi.”

The younger flipped to a blank page and wrote ‘Choking isn’t good’. Almost as a reminder to himself.

“It is under the right circumstances,” his brother replied coolly.

You rolled your eyes – their extremely different concepts of morality sometimes gave you a headache. Turning back to glare at the older blonde, you retorted, “You’re talking about consent. Consensual choking is fine.” 

“Oh, right. Forgot the word.” Doflamingo teased. His puppet strings pulled you upright, away from Corazon’s pretty pink dick which was clearly close to cumming. He would never turn his precious little brother into a plaything with his abilities – he wasn’t a complete degenerate. So Doflamingo kindly opted to grab a handful of Corazon’s hair and yank his head against your chest. “Play with her tits. You can fuck her when I’m done.”

Your breasts bounced as Doflamingo sped up his movements, squished together and emphasized by the nearly invisible strings wrapped around them. Corazon licked his lips hungrily before wrapping them around a nipple and loudly sucking. You whined as his tongue swirled around the bud, rolling your other nipple gently between his fingers. Doflamingo wrapped his hand around your neck again, but this time, he didn’t apply any pressure. He left it there as a constant presence – a reminder for you and an example for his brother.

“So fucking close,” he grunted, bouncing you faster and harder. “Gonna cum inside. Rosi, you okay with sloppy seconds?” Corazon knew it was a rhetorical question, but he would never tear himself away from your breasts to answer, anyways. The older shoved his hand between your bodies to thumb at your clit until both of you reached your peak, crying out in utter bliss. 

Doflamingo held you flush against his hips as he came, hot sticky spurts of semen flooding your insides as he whispered his fucked up version of sweet nothings in your ear – “such a perfect dirty whore, taking every drop of my cum like the cocksleeve you are”. Corazon eagerly watched your face contort with pleasure as he continued to suckle on your nipple. His own cock ached, but he didn’t risk touching it. Cumming inside you, seeing you make that blissful expression for him, outweighed his urgent desire. 

Your body automatically lifted off of Doflamingo’s cock, globs of cum dripping out of your cunt and onto the bedsheets below. You had barely settled on the bed when he withdrew his strings, leaving you to practically collapse with sore limbs and no support. Doflamingo shifted towards the headboard and stole a cigarette from his brother’s pack. He lit the end, inhaled deeply, and got comfortable to watch the show. 

Corazon pressed his lips against yours gently, slowly guiding you to lie flat on your back. He made a thumbs up and raised his eyebrows in question. “Yes, I’m ready,” you smiled at your sweet boy. 

His cock entered you slowly, tenderly, accompanied by the lewd shlick of the cum already inside you. Neither of you dared to acknowledge whose cum it was. When you looked up, you saw feathery blonde bangs, fading face paint, soft and loving eyes, and a perfect replica of Doflamingo’s smile.

[luxthestrange]

OP Incorrect quotes#43 Dont separate-

Now If Garp and Sengoku did a play date with Kid Dragon!Y/n & Kid Corazon...this is how I see this happening-

Kid!Y/n*Hugging Corazon,crying shaking head* I wanna keep him!

Garp: You can’t keep him-

Kid!Y/n: Why?!

Garp: Because he’s already got a family-

Kid!Y/n: But I wanna keep him!

Sengoku:Awww~

Garp*Worried look as he tells Sengoku to help separate you from Corazon* No, you’ve gotta let him go-

Kid!Y/n*Tearing up, Hugging Corazon further into my chest not letting Garp touch him*-but I wanna keep him!?

Kid!Cora*Blinking as he blushes hard*U-um...

[merbear25]

One piece characters x Small female reader???😇 like them comparing hand size or something??

Hello, thank you for sending in this request! Okay, so since you didn't specify any characters, I chose 3 I had some ideas for. I hope you like what I've written for you 💜💜

CW: fluff, fem!reader, headcanons, size difference

With a small fem!reader (Corazon, Zoro, Law)

Rosinante: He was such a large man already, meaning so many were already much smaller than him. When he first met you, he couldn't deny how sweet you looked—sweet and fragile. The closer you got to each other, the more he simply wanted to hold you. Even though his embrace completely engulfed you, you couldn’t get enough of his long arms wrapping around you. Of course, he enjoyed it too—feeling as if he was shielding you from the terrors this world had to offer. Most of all, he adored taking your small hands in his and bringing them up to his lips, placing a tender kiss on their tiny fingers. 

“You’re so darling, my dear.”

Zoro: Seeing as he’d taken on a protective role naturally, you were no exception to this. However, you were given a bit more attention than the others. Your small frame, your delicate features, and your tiny hands all gave off the impression of someone in need of being taken care of. Such gentle touches were accompanied with your late night talks when neither of you could sleep. He’d trace over your small fingers with his, admiring how dainty they were. Holding you closely, he reveled in how your form fit so perfectly in his arms. You knew that he’d never let anything cause you any harm; warmth blanketed you when you heard the sincerity in his voice.

“I’ll always protect you.”

Law: Despite his aloof demeanor, he cared very deeply for those closest to him. He was selfless when it came to aiding his friends, especially if they required a bit more attention. Seeing how small you were ignited the same devotion, yet he craved a bit more intimacy. Holding you close, caressing your gentle body, looking down at you: silent vows were made in such tender moments. Promises of always being there when you needed him, taking down anything or anyone who dared to pose any threat. You were perfect to him. As you sat there, enjoying the sounds of the sea, when he placed a firm kiss on your forehead.

“I promise to keep you safe.”

[short-honey-badger]

Uhm... Surprise!

Summary: You are Rosinante's secret wife, hidden away under Sengoku's protection. He shows up in the middle of you putting together a nursery, ruining your surprise.

Just a lil something sweet for Rosinante. I just finished Dressrosa, and this poor, dumb, gangly limbed man has stolen my heart. He's such a sweet one.

Masterlist

You are in the middle of painting the walls a soft pink, the same color that Rosi likes to wear, when you hear the front door hit the wall and the sound of your husband's voice echoing through the house.

"Honey, I'm home!"

You curse quietly and carefully climb down the step ladder you're on. You are glad you decided to change into a baggy sweater and leggings before beginning to paint. It would hide your baby bumb. However, hiding the rest of the room would be the biggest problem.

You fast walk out of the nursery, shutting the door behind you, before you go to meet your husband. Rosinante lights up the second he sees you, a big smile crossing his lips as he opens his arms and sweeps them around you.

"There you are. I thought you were hiding from me."

You laugh with a shake of your head, "Nope. Was just cleaning up. Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you were going to he gone for another two months?"

Your husband beams at you, "My brother sent me away cause I "annoyed him. " Sengoku said that I could spend my first two weeks away with you."

Rosi immediately notices the strain around your lips and the tension that lines your brow. You are happy that he's home, of course you are, but you also had a surprise for him. One you wanted to be perfect.

"Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I can fix whatever I did."

Your heart hurts at the sound of his growing panic, and so you surge up and seal your lips to his just to shut him up. Your husband kisses you back without a thought, and you lose yourself a little in the kiss before you pull away, though you keep close, your hands cradling his blushing face.

"You didn't so anything wrong, baby," you assure him and lean up to kiss his nose, "I just.. I had a surprise for you, but it's not ready yet."

Corazon frowns, feeling guilty that he's ruined something that you've obviously worked so hard on. If he weren't holding you, the marine would dig for a cigarette. He's about to offer to leave, when you suddenly step back and take his hand.

"Come on, I may as well show you now."

Rosinante follows you through the house and to a back room, left unused since it was usually just you here. His breath gets caught in his throat when he sees what you've done to the room. Half of it has been painted his favorite pink, and there are two dressers, both half built, and there tucked in the corner, is a tiny bassinet.

His heart pouts loudly in his ears, and he can hardly hear you as you ramble by his side, telling him about being too excited to just work on one project at a time. He hears you apologize for the mess, but Rosinante is still too focused on the bassinet.

You bite your bottom lip, growing nervous when your husband doesn't say anything. You shuffle in place, one hand coming down to hold your stomach, "Rosi..?"

Cora whips around, and you can see that he is grinning, tears welling up in his eyes and sliding down his face as he falls to his knees in front of you. His hands hover around you like he's suddenly terrified to touch you, but you grab one of them and hold his palm to your growing belly.

"I'm gonna be a dad?"

You nod, your own eyes filling with tears at the elation and awe you hear coating his voice. You sniff loudly and raise your free hand to scrub at your eyes, a smile tugging your lips up.

"Uhm... Surprise."

Rosinante pulls you in for a kiss so full of love that you can't help but melt against him. It might not have gone how you wanted it, but this was just as good.

[standfucker]

Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Characters: Law, Shanks, Mihawk, Rosinante, Blackbeard

Reader: GN (afab in Rosi's)

Word Count: 5.7k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches, sepsis

Summary: Continuing the series. Blackbeard's is more of a small bonus drabble that came to me, so his doesn't meet the 1k minimum I was shooting for in these. (And Rosi's went way over...)

Ao3 Link

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand. 

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how. 

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle. 

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were. 

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. 

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest. 

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.” 

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you. 

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside. 

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition. 

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’ 

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter. 

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

“No,” you lie.

[sunshinescribes]

Greedy

Pairing: Donquixote "Corazón" Rosinante x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+), MDNI!

Summary: Rosinante never knew he could be so greedy until he met you.

Warnings: SMUT! Established Relationship, Pining, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation

Rosinante once thought greed was not in his nature.

He had grown up on scraps, shoving half-bitten fruit and moldering meat into his mouth faster than he could draw breath, uncertain of when his next meal would be. He had lived in the dark alleyways and decrepit homes of strangers lost to history, thankful that the day had not been his last. Even as he lay shivering and sick, he found solace in the fact that a bullet had not found him, nor the punishing hands of those who wished to spill his celestial blood. 

His desires had always been reasonable. Food to sustain him. A temporary place to lay his head. A way to escape his callous brother. Rosinante only ever wished for what he needed, never what he wanted…until he met you.

It’s strange. If Rosinante tries to think back on it, he can’t quite pinpoint when you become so precious to him.Your paths had crossed serendipitously one day, when he had slipped away from Doflamingo and his insufferable company to draft reports for Sengoku. Rosinante found shelter in your humble tavern, a simple little thing at the edge of town—far enough from the Donquixote family’s current headquarters to allow him a moment of respite.

You had been cautious in the beginning, aware of how dangerous members of the Donquixote family were, especially when provoked, but with each visit, you began to shift before Rosinante’s eyes. Your clipped words had turned into full sentences, soft inquiries. Your quick retreat to the kitchen whenever he appeared had stopped. Gradually, you both began to thaw, finding comfort in the other’s presence and soon Rosinante was escaping to your homely tavern regardless of if he had reports to draft or not. 

There was a softness in your gaze that captivated him—a pretty lilt to your laughter that was so different from the cruel humor of his brother’s underlyings. 

Maybe that was when his heart first stirred, the moment you laughed while helping put out the flames that slowly spread across his feathered coat. There was no deprecation, none of the censuring he had come to expect. You had been kind, and Rosinante had not realized how long he had been denied such a simple act—how much his heart secretly craved it.

And in turn, he began to crave you.

“Rosi—”

The breathless call of his name rips Rosinante from his recollections. 

He blinks, forcing the fog in his mind away until the image of you beneath him becomes clear again, and he wonders how he had allowed himself to get distracted in the first place. 

“Hm?” he hums softly, tilting his head to the side as his eyes sweep over your face.

You’re a lovely mess beneath him. Beautiful. The thought finds him every time he sees you, and yet it still feels like a revelation. Your long lashes flutter as you meet his gaze, your bottom lip trembles, looking so inviting. It takes everything in Rosinante not to dip down and kiss you senseless. 

He could…but then he wouldn’t be able to see the lovely expressions you make as he continues to work you with his slender fingers. The pinch of your brows, the way your lips part when you let out a sultry sound that strokes the flames of his desire.

Rosinante wants to kiss you, but he thumbs your clit instead, earning another sweet moan that makes his dick strain painfully against his slacks. 

“I-I’m gonna come—” you whine as you buck your hips, making his deft fingers plunge deeper into your needy cunt, and oh god he feels it again, the way your walls hug whatever they can get a hold of just before you tip over the edge. 

Rosinante has already coaxed one orgasm out of you tonight, but he wants another—wants to watch your pretty eyes roll in the back of your head and that brilliant mind of yours go dumb with pleasure. There isn’t a prettier sight in the world, and it’s enough to get him off, watching you come undone. 

“Come baby, please fucking come…” he rasps, his voice almost unrecognizable to himself. 

Rosinante quickens his pace, fucking you with his fingers while your walls clench around them, trying to keep his long digits where you need him most. His thumb rubs torturous circles against your swollen clit—faster and faster while sweet supplication spills from his lips.

This is worship after all, isn’t it? 

The wrecked whimper you let out is like music to his ears, and Rosinante fucking groans when he feels you coat his fingers with your sweet release. He watches as if caught in a spell at the way you shake through your second orgasm. The sight alone makes Rosinante’s resolve shatter. He leans down, slanting his lips over yours, swallowing those pretty cries as you shake through the pleasure that washes through you.

Rosinante wastes time he doesn’t have kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and stealing the air from your lungs. Doflamingo will wonder where his little brother has run off to, but Rosinante can’t will himself to part from you. Not when you’re a lovely, boneless wreck below him. 

Not when he still wants more. 

Rosinante reluctantly withdraws his fingers from your slippery hole just as he pulls away from your lips with a sigh. He blinks, his heavy gaze finding yours once again. You look a little dazed, like you're still coming down from your high. Rosinante can’t help the way his lips curve into a soft smile, or the way he whispers soft praise against your skin with each tender kiss. 

“One more…just one more sweetheart,” he murmurs, slowly trailing his lips down your body. The taste of salt and something sweet linger on his tongue, making him tremble with anticipation as he steadily reaches his destination.

Rosinante makes an appreciative noise at the sight of the mess he’s made of your pretty pussy—the slow drip of your slick like honey, the way it smears your thighs and stains your sheets. He can practically feel his mouth watering, his mind going dizzy with lust.

Rosinante doesn’t realize he’s leaning in until he feels your trembling fingers thread through his hair, gently yanking at his blond curls. He stills, before glancing up at you with an inquisitive look.

“What…about you?” your question is a tired mumble, barely audible. 

Oh, you’re so sweet, even when you’re worked to your limit, hardly tethered to the waking world. It makes the warmth in Rosinante’s chest spread like a wildfire.

His eyes never leave yours, not even as he slowly lowers back down to your needy cunt.

“This is for me.”

You let out a broken cry the moment his tongue slips between your folds. Rosinante knows it’s too much, that you’re still reeling from your last release, but he’s too far gone—craves you like a drowning man craves air. 

This is the greed you inspire in him—this unshakable desire to take everything he wants. It would terrify him if you weren’t so eager and willing. 

Rosinante laps at your sweetness like a man starved. He fucks his tongue into you, licking away the evidence of your last release to prepare for the one you’ll soon give him. He knows it won’t be long now. You’re already a sobbing mess, so needy and sensitive. 

“Ohgod—Rosi I can’t—” your words die out, replaced by a pathetic moan.

“You can…” Rosinante gasps, reluctantly pulling away from your pussy to give you a moment of relief. “Sweet girl, I know you can.”

And he knows just how to prove it. 

Rosinante leans back down, fixing your sopping pussy with an appraising glance before he wraps his mouth around your sensitive clit. He lets his talented tongue glide over the nub, teasing it until your nails dig painfully into his scalp.

You’re close, so so close. Rosinante knows you’re teetering over the edge, nearly on the brink of ecstasy. The idea alone makes his dick twitch in his trousers, ready to burst along with you.  

Rosinante grinds against the bed, chasing a sliver of friction against his throbbing cock. He’s right there with you, hanging on by a thread. 

Let go, he hears a voice in his head whisper. 

Let go. Let go. Let go.

Rosinante sucks on your clit hard and you’re gone, thrashing and bucking your hips—chasing your release with his mouth as a jumbled mix of his name and a curse spill from your lips.

Rosinante chases his own release, grinding his clothed cock against the mattress until he’s spilling into his slacks with a broken sob. You both gasp and quiver, feeling the delicious traces of your climax as you slowly settle from your high.

Rosinante sighs contentedly, gently nuzzling your thigh. It would be so easy for him to just stay here with you, to make a home in your too-small bed and leave his brother and his mission behind. It would be nice, not having to live in fear of Doffy uncovering the truth behind his sudden return—to think there’s a life left for him at the end of all this, even if Rosinante can’t picture it. 

He wants that. God, he wants it so bad it hurts. Rosinante allows himself to dream, lets his mind conjure possibilities and perfect endings…but he still lifts from your mattress, cleans away the evidence of your shared desire, and begrudgingly staggers out of your tavern.

The taste of you lingers on his tongue, and Rosinante finds solace in it as he slowly trudges through town.

Maybe one day this will all be over and he’ll get to stay by your side.

It’s a pretty thought, even if it is only a dream.

divider credit: cafekitsune

[fanaticsnail]

"Mine"

Masterlist here

Word count: 7,000+

Synopsis: Upon viewing you and your boss, Doflamingo, get a little too close to one another, Corazon feels the urge to finally state a claim over you. He loves you, and now wants you to understand one thing and one thing only: you belong to him. You are his, completely.

Warnings: Rosinante Corazon X f!reader, smut, MDNI, 18+, NSFW, possessiveness, jealousy, mean dominant Rosinante, drinking alcohol, marking, edging, kissing, sucking, licking, yandere behaviour, pet-names used, Corazon doesn't speak, cum play, bukkake, aftercare, friendly relationship with Doflamingo.

Notes: This gorgeous art was done by @skullfacedlady, who this fic is dedicated to as a gift for her art of my OC Tobiuo and art for my Doflamingo fic 'play stupid games, win stupid prizes'. Let's fuel our obsession with the Donquixote brothers together. Enjoy your dominant Rosinante.

Donquixote Rosinante was not a jealous man. He was cool, calm and collected; level-headed and leading with his head before his heart. There was nothing outside of his control that had him up in arms, fiery, or aggressive about anything.

Silent, a swift word he used to activate his devil-fruit ability at a moment's notice. A moment to create silence in the world around him free of the noise he was plagued by. Silent, was how he found himself now as he watched you laugh alongside his brother at some witless joke whispered down into your ear. 

Other than the mission he was undertaking as a spy for the world government, a bid to satiate his brother's horrid temper and ensure he doesn't make too much ruckus, he was completely silent.

Always silent. 

Although he was yet to make a move romantically towards you, there was an unspoken understanding and appreciation for one another lingering beneath the surface. The touch of a hand, the passing of a shared cigarette between fingers, the smile he thought was reserved for him and him alone. That same smile he was witnessing being gifted to his older brother without a care in the world. 

Doflamingo knew no bounds, there was no limit for him. He was unhinged, ferocious, and brutal. If Rosinante pursued you, Doflamingo could still manage to coax you into his bed with ease should you let him. That thought alone had the younger blonde’s blood boil with a scorched blaze. 

He was a marine, a spy, a confidant to the military while being completely sound in his masquerade as a loyal minion for his older brother. The only time his mask of undying loyalty began to slip was at this very moment: witnessing your hands wander over Doflamingo’s arms, the way your eyes darted between focus on each of his, the curl of your pout as you whispered back up at him with a soft smile. 

The way he grit his teeth, the growing snarl curling his upper lip, the way his eyes were fixed to your hand tapping his brother's shoulder, all of it revealed the way his soul growled to possess you in this moment. You didn't know his true nature as a marine, nor the fact that he was not as mute as you knew him to be. 

To you, he was ‘sweet Corazon, the heart of the Donquixote Pirates you served with, the baby brother to your captain and boss.’ He was sure you didn't see him in a flirtatious light at all, and he was growing more restless at the thought of making you look at him through lust-colored lenses. 

He wanted you so desperately, and he remained consumed with intrusive thoughts of claiming you as his own. Where he would usually gulp back his own desires, casting all aside for the sake of the mission from Marine High Command, he could no longer ignore thinking of the way you'd look in the thralls of pleasure wrapped around his cock. 

His eyes continued to burn holes of flaming desire against your skin, never once leaving your smile and craving more than anything to be the reason for such radiant beauty. He wants to make you laugh, see you smile, hear what you're offering to his older brother and reciprocate the gentle touches. 

And then he wants to make you whimper, whining for him and him alone. He wants to be the source of your pleasure, to have you mewl in bliss while he ruts his painfully hard cock deep within the crevices of your body. He wants to mold you to the shape of him, make you forget any other tryst prior and feel you fall apart and become drunk off what he was giving you. 

Doflamingo continued to offer you crude commentary regarding several mannerisms of the troop he had surrounded himself with. The guests at the soiree had all arrived in their best garb, all enjoying the riches and spoils of the Donquixote pirates at their mansion. 

All he needs is one moment. A single moment alone with you, away from this crowd, and away from the talons of his older brother. Just a single moment, and you could fall apart on his fingers, lips and cock the way he so desperately wants you to. Just one chance was all he needed, he was sure of it. 

While the man who captained you was not interested in you romantically, you were spreading untruths if you said you didn't enjoy his clever analogies and crassness from time to time. He had a mind to invite a few of his regular concubines to the soiree, but opted to take you with him as his date instead. 

You, his counselor and battle strategist. He knew he could come to you for all that ailed him. From desiring to know the method of attack to cause the most damage, to perching on the sofa in your office and talking about his mother. He enjoyed your ear, and you enjoyed listening to his thoughts. 

The one thing you didn't plan on was sneaking glances at his younger brother once he returned to the family. Rosinante was another creature entirely. Where Doflamingo's loud chirping and chattering was harsh and boisterous, his younger brother was silent and reserved. Rosinante intrigued you, and you couldn't deny yourself the knowledge that your wandering eye had stuck to him almost immediately. 

As Doflamingo leaned over to stoop at your ear, you cocked your head up to the side and readied yourself to hear his next lewd remarks. 

“Watch now, you see him?” Doflamingo’s lengthy fingers reached up to your chin and gingerly traced along your jaw to turn your gaze. A young man was being regal and respectful with a blushing young woman, extending his hand toward her and inviting her to dance. 

“I see a well-mannered young man offering a young debutant a dance,” you shrugged with a small smile. Doflamingo's grin widened further, leaning close enough you could almost feel his tongue against your neck alongside his wine-tainted breath on your skin. 

“Well I see a young idiot who got fucked in the ass by their cabin driver moments before entering the ballroom,” he purred, prompting you to laugh a very shocked scoff with your brows raised. 

“Doflamingo,” you gasped at him, gently tapping his chest and smiling up at him with lips partially parted, “You shouldn't be talking about young ladies like that. It's not polite.” He raised his wine glass, cocking his head to the side and offering it out to you to clink his rims with it. 

As your glasses rang at the contact, you raised the liquid to your lips. Doflamingo’s hand snaked over your waist, tugging you closer to him as you took a tasteful amount of wine between your lips. 

“I wasn’t talking about her,” Doflamingo uttered in a nonchalant whisper, prompting you to choke back and burn your throat with the liquid. He chuckled at your fluster, gripping your waist tighter and giving your hip a gentle squeeze. 

“So closed-minded,” he clicked his tongue in a flurry of chastising ticks, gently tapping your nose with his index finger, “Such a shame, little lamb.” You closed your eyes and focussed on breathing through your prior choked inhale as Doflamingo soothed his thumb over your hip bone. 

“You're incorrigible,” you whisper playfully up at him, prompting him to lean in a low stoop and raise the hand containing his wine glass up to your lips. He balances it within his coiled four fingers and tidies your lip with his thumb. 

“You love it,” he whispered huskily down at you, “That's why you accepted my personal invitation to attend by my side, is it not?” You floated your gaze down to the thumb at your lips before shooting him a warning look at his rose-tinted glasses. 

“A little unhinged commentary never hurt anybody,” you shrugged as you gently raise your glass to tap with his once more. He purred his hum down at you, squeezing your hip bone again within his talon-like grasp before he released you from his grip. 

“And what unhinged commentary do you have on the menu this evening?” he asked you, prompting you to hastily gulp back your glass and place it on the tray of the traveling vendor beside you. Pondering in deep thought, Doflamingo's eyes met with his brother’s intense glare directed at you. 

Beneath the shroud of his glasses, he was certain he was safe from notice. Doflamingo assessed his brother's stance and trailed the tension on his shoulders and the possessiveness in his eyes. A cruel smirk drew up on his features just as you turned to face him. 

“I heard a rumor that Diamante and Pica like to hold hands while they take a piss-,” you began, only to halt as Doflamingo's deep purr crooned down at you.

“-Are you fucking my baby brother?” you snapped your head up at him and widened both your eyes and lips in response. He didn't bother moving to face you, instead training his eyes on the way Rosinante’s hardened stance leaned against the wall. 

“Why would you assume such a ridiculous thing, sir?” you asked him, no room for teasing or earlier playfulness in your tone. He finally tore his eyes away from Rosinante and back towards you. 

“Have you the way he's been looking at you?” Doflamingo stooped low, gently raising your chin with the tilt of his index finger. “He looks like he's trying to burn your clothes off with his eyes. Can't say I blame him,” he trails his finger down your neck to your clavicle, teasing at the hem of your formal garb, “You are a gorgeous specimen. Especially in that dress.”

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Doflamingo tugged at your shoulder strap and hoisted you closer to him, turning you to shield you with his feathered coat. 

“Do you want to fuck my baby brother?” he whispered, his voice low and unwavering. You darted your eyes between his and slowly bobbed your head in a soft nod. 

“Oh, how delicious,” he uttered down at you, slowly walking you backwards and caging you against the wall with his hand resting on the tiles beside your head, “How soon do you want to fuck my baby brother?” You gulped, stifling your rising blush and biting your tongue in shame. 

“Oh,” he taunted you with his voice shuddering in delight, “Oh, you want him now.” He leaned forward, crouching low and pressing his chest against your own. “Oh, little lamb,” he whispered, his face mere inches from yours, “This is an entertaining discovery. I bet you're soaked through those pretty panties right now, aren't you-?” 

“-I don't appreciate being on the receiving end of such crassness, Doflamingo,” you cut him off with your warning tone, managing to stifle your blush and bite back at his taunt. Doflamingo rumbles a dark chuckle through his chest as he gently reaches forward and toys with a loose strand of your hair. 

“I know,” he shrugged dismissively, continuing to toy with your hair and plucking at your shoulder straps, “I'll stop in just a moment.” You knit your brows inquisitively at him, clamping your teeth down in a tight snap. 

“What are you doing, Doflamingo?” you arch your brow high as his unoccupied hand draws down to enclose around your wrist. He elevated your arm up to circle his shoulders and card through the wispy strands of his blonde hair bordering the scruff of his neck.

Doflamingo looked over his glasses down at you, the ruby hue of his knowing eyes piercing your soul with every passing moment. You took a moment to assess him, knowing truly that he had no interest in you aside from close friendship, but perplexed by this new intimate closeness between you.

“Isn’t it obvious, little lamb?” he cooed down at you, his eyes full of mischief and playfulness, “I have a feeling he’s just as possessive as I am,” he nudged your forehead with his chin to rise your head up further. “Let’s see where it takes him, shall we?” 

Doflamingo held you against him for a few moments longer, whispering more shameless commentary while waving away any attendants who offered you food and beverages. You enjoyed his crass words, gently soothing over the back of his neck as you enjoyed the warmth from his almost friendly embrace. He was many things: a tyrant, a villain, a truly evil man with a maniacal laugh and a darkened heart. But most importantly, he was truly your friend. 

After several more minutes of being contained beneath the shroud of Doflamingo’s feathered cloak, he released you from hiding within his wings and ventured over to the dancefloor, stealing away a guest and twirling them on the waxed tiles. You spared a glance over to the wall Rosinante was perched on and found an unfamiliar absence in its wake. 

You felt a wave of disappointment wash over you at his notable disappearance. Instead of wallowing in this newfound pity, you simply chose to shrug it off and head over to the bar to get yourself another drink. As you called your order over the mahogany benchtop, you felt something make contact with the back of your dress and slip from your hem to fall to the middle of your back. 

Turning to your side, you notice first the darkened feathers of a broad coat before the maroon hood of the man beside you. His purple glasses were drawn up the bridge of his nose, his painted lips curled in a grimace as he gestured to the barkeep for two glasses of amber liquid. 

His hand remained fixed on the middle of your back in an act of possessive ownership over your form as he paid his Berry for the drinks. You searched his face, your eyes wandering over eyes avoiding yours, the tips of his ears tinted with a soft rise in aggressive blush, and his lips forged against one another in a tight, thin line. 

He was angry. 

His hand felt heavy and covetous, the grip increasing on the back of your dress while attempting to remain poised and composed. Continuing to monitor his expression from your peripherals, you gently brush the rim of your glass with his in a gesture of gratitude. 

“Thank you, Corazon,” you whisper, gently leaning your head to brush against his bicep in a soft bob of familiarity, “It is for me, isn’t it?” He offered you nothing in return: no smile, no look, no acknowledgement at all. Raising his own glass to his lips and gulping it back in a hefty swig, he sighed out a silent breath at the burning sting of alcohol. Placing the glass on the countertop, he finally turned to you with his eyes darkened and glaring through his eyelashes as you sipped at your drink. 

His hands clapped over your own on the glass, pulling your hand towards his face and turning your glass and placing his lips over the stain left on the rim of your glass from your lip paint. Without tearing his eyes away from yours, he gulped down the rest of your liquid with his lips casting over your own mark: sharing a kiss without your lips ever meeting. 

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, his gaze hypnotizing you with the tension falling from his shoulders in a possessive rage. Releasing your hand and back, he fished out his cigarette carton and flintlock lighter, his eyes held a daring challenge in them before he turned and made his way towards the heavy doors. Thrusting them open, his intentional and weighty steps feeling foreign in comparison to his usual light footedness. 

Quickly darting your eyes over to the dancefloor, you notice Doflamingo’s gaze catch yours. Shooting you a pouting mock-kiss, he waved you on with his blessing to leave the space unchaperoned by him. You sucked your lip into your mouth and sheepishly trailed after Corazon with your head hanging low to shroud your bashfulness. 

The wind hit your face as the setting sun fled over the coastal line of the Dessrossian sea. The blue of the moonlight rose the shadowy corners of the city and made way for the hum of low lamplight. 

Sitting on the seastone wall, legs crossed at the knees and gazing up into the night sky sat Rosinante inhaling his cigarette. Exhaling the smoke, his chest seemed to deflate in somber yearning. His smoky breath picked up in a swirl on the wind that caressed his skin and blew at his golden hair beneath the red signature hat. His feathered cloak laid on the top of the barrier beside him, the feathers rustling with the breeze. 

Your heart began to flitter with an anxiousness and adrenaline spike you had not yet met its equal. The need to draw him into your arms, take him away from all the frivolity, and press sweetness against his lips with your own had become too much. The way his lips parted with every exhale, the danger and mystery held within his expression propelled your chest to set ablaze. The desire to declare your intentions then and there, claim his lips and body with yours grew exponentially. 

Hissing a final shaky breath through your teeth, you halt your inhibitions and set to declare your infatuation with the younger Donquixote brother. Your feet marched towards him, no longer caring that your desperation for him was exposed beneath your steely expression. As you stood before him, he upturned his head and gazed down his nose at you. 

“Corazon?” your whisper was all the warning you managed to choke out before your hands sought his cheeks and propelled you into his arms. He parted his knees to take you between them, immediately circling his arms around your smaller frame and clasping the back of your dress into heaping fistfuls. 

Lips finally meeting, you tentatively pressed your confession into his skin with a gentle kiss. A shocked squeak left your mouth and was swallowed by his, as his own kiss deviated from your prior sweetness. There was no softness in his kiss, the sweet Corazon you so desperately yearned for had been replaced by another beast entirely. 

Corazon’s lips were hungry, consuming your desire and feasting on the whimpers you called to him with. His hands forced your back to arch against his chest, the tilt of his head and circling of his chin mouthing at you set the pace of the kiss and grew your need for him. A sense of urgency was felt in his kiss, the need to state his claim over you rising with his wild lust. 

Pulling away from your lips, he gazed into your eyes to search for any uncertainty within. Both heavily panting and breathless, you felt the possessiveness Doflamingo had warned you about burn into his aura. His smudged lips were parted, eyes glassy with blown pupils. He released his right hand from your dress and drew it up to his face. 

Tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, he reached up his thumb and claimed a portion of red paint from his cheek on the rounded pad. Immediately thrust his hand forward, he held your left breast in his much larger four fingers while smearing the paint within your cleavage. A choked gasp fled from you as he focussed his attention onto your breast, molding the flesh beneath his palm. 

Huffing through a laugh, he tore his eyes from your breasts and arched his brow up at you with a knowing smirk playing on his face. You knit your brows together in puzzlement before looking down at your chest. Lying central over your heart, your eyes widened at the paint over your exposed flesh. A single word was depicted: no questions, no inhibitions, and no care for any passerby to see the mess he had made on your skin. Corazon’s unwavering gaze never left you as you read over his word.

“Mine.”

A gasp was the only sound he allowed to leave you before he circled his arms over your waist and intentionally fell backwards over the wall, taking you with him as you fell. A hand clapped over your lips to stifle a soft yelp of shock, Corazon fell onto his back with a thud. As soon as he landed, he gave you no time to process the change in position as he replaced his palm with his lips once more. 

In a swift movement, he switched your positions and placed your back on the plush grass bordering the elevated pier between the ocean shore and the Dressrosian castle. Your shocked whimper was claimed by Corazon as his lips collected yours with passion and vigor. There was no hesitancy in his lips, no wavering in his movements, nor stalling his lust for you. 

You made him jealous in the ballroom with his brother, the jealousy unwarranted due to the fact he considered his love to be unrequited. As soon as you placed your lips on his, all of his withheld emotions and prior resignation all but fled him. He was not going to let you go. You were his, and his possessive tendencies revealed themselves to you by each time he drew down his lips to ravish you. 

Trailing his lips and teeth down to your cheek and the tip of your chin, he mouthed at your neck and pressed kisses at your rapidly beating pulse point. Sucking a heart-shaped mark into your skin, your back arched as his hands drew up over your breasts and toyed with your peaked buds. You let out a yelp as he heaped the dress within his balled fists, splitting the material of the dress Doflamingo purchased for you, and rendering it unsalvageable. 

Leaving you no time to protest, his lips found one of your puckered nipples and rolled it with his tongue. His other hand toyed with your unoccupied breast, matching momentum and maneuverability he was pressing into you with his lips. You drew up your hands to clap one over your lips, while the other found the top of Corazon’s head and scrunched around the red material of his hat. 

Removing his lips from your chest while continuing to pinch your nipple, he sought out your consent to continue ravishing you. His eyes seemed almost innocent, his head cocking to the side as his brows arched in the center of his forehead. His lips held the sweet smile you knew and loved him for, a vast contrast to the criminally unashamed touch he was teasing you with. 

“You-... ah-... asking for my consent to continue?” you moaned as he joined his unoccupied hand to squeeze at the flesh his lips were occupied with prior. He shook his head before his lips kissed above his smudged writing, drawing your attention to the mark he made prior.

“You-... nnngh-... You asking for-... fuck, Corazon-,” he placed his knee between your legs, making contact with the damp material of your soaked panties and grinding it up against you. You felt the rumble of his soundless chuckle purr and vibrate against your skin, his lips curling into a smile as he continued to mouth at your skin. 

Searching your rapidly clouding mind for any question you had to form on his wordless behalf, you found revelation just as his fingers began to snake down below your panties and gather your slick atop his considerably larger fingers. Dipping his middle and unity finger in a coaxing grind against your entrance, you yanked his head up to gaze back into your eyes and release your skin from his relentless attack of his urgent kisses. 

“Corazon, you-... you want to claim me as yours, don’t you?” you gasped as his lips halted their descent and his eyes darted back up to meet yours. His hazelnut orbs burn into you with his silent unwavering desire, daring you to deny him through his lengthy eyelashes. At that moment, that split motion and hardened intensity, you knew within your soul that you belonged to him and him alone.

There was no other, no friend nor foe that poured into your mind other than your sweet Corazon. He owned you in every sense of the word. Your heart, your mind, your spirit was all his. Always had been, and will always ever be. Unbreaking in his heavy eye contact, he prowled back up towards you and caged your head between his lowered elbows. Testing you with his eyes, he swayed his head slowly from side to side, hovering his lips above yours as you chased him.

“Say it,” his lips motioned, his breath tingling your skin where his vocal fry never spilled, “Say it.” You whined, pouting and avoiding his eyes while your body bucked up involuntarily to brush against his thigh. 

Your open dress caused the wind to prick up and caress your skin with its icy breeze: a drastic contrast between the hot body trapping you beneath him. Corazon’s eyes never left yours, ablaze with the desire to see you admit defeat and title him as yours, and yours alone. Gazing down his nose at you, his tongue soundlessly clicked a few more times in daring you to admit that key phrase that granted him the pleasure of enjoying you exclusively. 

“Yours,” you managed to gasp out, your back arching as your head drew up to seek his out, “I’m yours, Corazon.” He angled his chin, clicking his tongue while urging you to cry out for him more. Gently dragging his fingers backwards and forwards along your slit, he tentatively bullied his lengthy digits into your body and hooked them up to expertly seek out the underside of your clit and massage it with his thick fingers. 

“Fuck, I’m yours,” you curse at him, his brows arching up as he continued to bully his fingers into you, collecting your slick on his middle and unity fingers while his thumb tapped at your clit. Roughly propelling you closer to ecstasy, he held you hostage against your release: the bob and contraction of your walls squeezing against his digits halting his movements and edging you away from your ignition. 

Your hands sought out his cheeks, roughly bringing his face towards you and wordlessly asking for his kiss. He denied you, holding his head away from your lips and teasing you with his eyes. Desperation clawed at you, forcing you to buck up against his hand to chase your high, only to be championed away from eruption by the skilled ministrations of the blonde above you. You keened for him, trying to gather more of him as he held off his lips and your approaching climax with expert precision.

“What? What do you want me to say?” you desperately gasped for him. He arched his brow, continuing to hold your bliss at ransom until you declared what he was searching for. He leaned down, his bottom lip gently brushing with yours before pulling away and focussing his thumb against your clit. Arching your back, you grabbed at his wrist channeling its ministrations against your hyper-sensitive body to draw more of him against you. 

“Corazon, please,” you whimpered, tears beginning to gather in your eyes, “I only ever want to be yours. Only yours.” You reached your hands up to his stomach, snaking your digits across his abdomen and desperately reaching for the hemline of his pants. As soon as he felt your fingers slip beneath the surface, he pulled his hand away from your dripping pussy and removed your hands immediately from his body. 

Clasping your wrists above your head in a single girthy hand, Corazon used his other to unbutton the front of his pants before returning it to your needy pussy. Each touch was highly sensitive, your entrance contracting around an absent touch, and your voice whined for him to let you finish. 

“Please. Please, Corazon!” you sobbed, arching your back and squirming against his hand pinning yours above your head. “What do you want? What do you want? Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want.” 

Truthfully, Corazon didn't know what he wanted. He enjoyed this new shift in power: watching you helplessly squirming to seek out more of his touch against you, seeing the desperation in your eyes, hearing the hopelessness in your soft cries. You were experiencing all of the emotions he felt moments prior while his heart was held at ransom watching you with his brother. 

He wanted to see you cry, hear you whine, feel you sniffle as you keened for him; helpless to the pleasure he was desperately withholding from you. He was so tired of being kind and sweet to you, always kind and sweet to you. 

No, he wanted to be mean. 

His unwavering gaze darkened as he pierced you with his eyes, the smudge of his former mark on your chest spreading through the dewy desperation of your glistening perspiration. You had never looked so beautiful to him, bare for any passerby to witness if they truly focussed on you. Each part of you was perfect to him, every sucked breath, whimper, and sniffle. 

After spending a moment to take you all in, he had no choice but to see you unravel by his touch. A show just for him, with you as the star performer. 

Thumb pressed against your swollen pearl, he finally focussed his entire attention on coaxing you from that edge by pistoning his hand in and out, adding his index finger to the stretch and massaging your g-spot. Scissoring his fingers, dancing his digits expertly on your most sensitive and desperate nerves, your eyes finally ignite with the white of euphoric lightning. 

“O-Oh, fuck!” you yelped, feeling how tightly wound you were, his hands rapidly beckoned your ecstasy like a musician toying with their specialist instrument. You bit your lip to stifle your whimpers, your vision blurring beneath your glassy orbs and light bursting behind your eyes. 

Corazon's jaw shuddered as he felt your body shake and tremble beneath him. His eyes never left your face as he watched your eyes clamp shut and contort in ecstacy. Back arching, hips rocking to match his pace, your body danced hypnotically as you rode through your high. Your slick gushed in his hands, christening him with your essence as he ceased his relentless momentum. 

“Corazon,” you pant with your chest heaving as your lungs expanded. Removing his lengthy digits from your pussy, he teased at your entrance, collected a sample of your essence and gripped his newly exposed cock. Leaning up onto your elbows, you were enchanted by his hand pistoning his shaft, giving his knob a gentle squeeze while lubricating it with your slick. 

Leaning back to sit on his calves, he beckoned you over with a wiggle of his finger. As you attempted to sit, the exertion from the intensity of your euphoria prevented you from rising. Falling back onto the grass, Corazon clicked his tongue at you before biting back a rising smirk. 

He was absolutely smitten with the fact that just his hands had left you feeling like an oversensitive mess trembling on the ground. His patience was never ending, enjoying the show of how helpless you looked while catching your breath. Instead of chastising you for being unable to move, he shuffled forward, staining his knees with the green tint of the plush grass. 

Bringing himself down to cage your body beneath his, he tilted his head with a playful smile drawing up his lips. A soft whine fled from your lips as you felt him line the tip of his cock against your slit. Dragging the blunt tip over your entrance up to your sensitive clit had your body trembling from the heightened oversensitivity. 

“Corazon,” your whispered cry for him had his eyes widening and pupils dilating to a blown-out eclipse of those brown eyes you had grown to love. The man who caged you beneath him resembled a beast: wild with desire and consumed by the need for satisfaction. 

His sweet smile was now mimicking a grimace, the resemblement to his older brother now understandable by the curl of his lips. Caging your waist within his two hands with ease, he elevated your hips from the ground as he sat on his calves. A squeak of shock fled from your lips, the gentle caress of grass searing against your shoulders and pricking your skin. 

Lining up his tip fully with your slit, his wrists snapped you down as if you weighed nothing, sinking his blushing cockhead within your drooling cunt immediately. Crying out at the stinging stretch, you thrust your hands behind you and anchored yourself against the earth by gripping the grass beside your head. 

At the soft cry, Rosinante stilled. His discipline holding by a thread as his eyes take you in. Seeing that deep furrow on your face as you adjust to his great size has him rocking you gently to test out your resolve. Snapping your eyes up at him, you mirror his unhinged smirk and attempt to peer up at him with your shoulders bearing your weight. 

“If you're going to fuck me, fuck me,” you taunt him, your eyelashes fluttering innocently at him, “I can take it. I'm yours.” Your smirk turns soft, the dewy sweat smearing the lettering written over your chest, and heaving with every inhale of breath. On seeing the red paint etched over your skin, his blood boiled like a drop of water into a crackling pot of hot oil. That sizzling danger igniting fire within his soul had his hips immediately rock forward and bury his entire length into your slick heat. 

Eliciting a strangled cry of shock at the intrusion, your voice caught itself in your larynx as your jaw fell slack. Eyes wide, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, smile ghosting at the corners of your lips, your back bowed as the crown of your head flew back to the ground. His cock pressed against your cervix, pulsating its engorged mass deep within your body. Not a single regret cascaded over your mind at the first rock of your much smaller body over his giant steely cock. 

As if only testing your resolve, his thrusts remained shallow: his cock buried into you and only withdrawing a single inch to press back in. Each gasp from your lips mirrored the flutter of your walls contracting around him, drawing him forward and prompting him to growl deep within the chasms of his chest. 

Nodding to him, you slapped his large hands circling your waist and gestures to his cock with your digits. 

“C'mon, Corazon,” you tease him, angling your head to the side and peering at the corner of your eyes and grinning from ear to ear, “You call this fucking me-! Ahh-!” 

The switch flicked, his motions throwing and jolting your body with each heavy thrust. You were a limp doll in his hands, your much smaller frame a pretty cocksleeve for his looming body towering over you. He pumped his cock into your cunt, using your pussy as a channel for his lust. 

His belt jingled and rustled as his pants slunk to his knees, your dress collecting the stain of green from the grass beneath you. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, Corazon panted heavy breaths with his unsyncopated rhythm. Each in-thrust hit the sensitive convex of your g-spot before brushing past and bullying your cervix. Hit blunt tip hit that marker within your body that had you scream in ecstasy, lips parting and drool falling from the corners of your lips. 

Corazon cracked open his eyes and found himself lost in the vision of you splayed out beneath him. Just from meeting his eyes on your body; clothes ruined, back arching, eyes blown with lust, and breath catching in sweet, choked, little mewls, he felt himself almost topple over that cliff of bliss. Your pussy fluttered around him, coaxing a soundless cry to flee from his lips while his hips rutt into your cunt recklessly. 

The coil within your abdomen swelled before binding together in a woven ring. You could barely form a cohesive word. Your arms, along with the rest of you, remained unresponsive to your mind as you felt your release almost snap within you. 

On queue, Rosinante moved one of his hands so his thumb met your clit while the remaining four circled your hips. The pad of his larger digit gently swirled your clit in messy circles, his desperation to feel you cum against his cock driving him to the brink of reckless insanity. As the larger blonde continued to rutt and buck into you while dragging your smaller frame against his, the crude slaps and sloppy momentum had lightning flash behind your eyes.

“C-Co-! Nghhmn-, Cora-!” your choked whimper was caught on your tongue as your body gave in to the call of your release. Your back bowed as you met your crest, the final crescendo being conducted within the symphony of your bodies joining as one. Your pussy gushed against his cock, a creamy ring forming at his base as you contracted around him. Each pulse and wave of your fluttering walls had Corazon crying soundlessly while biting his cheeks to ground himself from toppling immediately after you. Focussing on you first, he continued holding the pace and fucking you through your bliss. 

Falling away from that edge and floating back to the surface, you felt Corazon withdraw his cock from your oversensitive pussy with a rough 'pop'. Gently falling your body to the ground with his larger left hand, his right immediately circled his cock and began pumping the thick shaft over your body. His eyelids fluttered as his glassy orbs rolled back, his lips soundlessly uttering a single word once his gaze pierced yours. 

“Mine.”

At that, his cock leaked in hot spurts, dousing your stomach and breasts in scorching splashes. You could almost feel his chest vibrating with the sounds he couldn't release verbally, his lips repeating several mouthed curses and iterations of your name. His cock twitched in his palm as he rode his high over your body. 

You were mesmerized in the way he moved. His wrist slightly curled it's way inwards with every instroke, uncoiling on the way out, his pearlescent seed finally coating the red mark he wrote against your skin with his lip paint. He drank in your sight: lips parted, clothes torn, tousled hair, flushed cheeks, panting chest, and covered in ropes of his cum.

Riding through his high, he collapsed over you. His hands moved to cage you beneath him, knees on either side of your hips as his breath tickled your face. His lips found your cheek, moving in that single word repetitively. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he nipped at your jaw, his tongue darting out and dragging down your neck towards your pulse. You whined at the movement, already feeling oversensitive from the two climaxes in sequence. Rosinante’s chest wiggled with his soundless chuckle, rolling back onto his knees and gawking at you. 

You were perfect. 

Gently reaching up to the beam beside him, he collected his feather coat and laid it beside you. His motions were gentle, intentional, and almost sweet in comparison to his prior roughness. He hooked his arm beneath your legs, the other splayed on your upper back as he moved you onto the dark quills of inky feathers. Without a care to the mess he made of you, he curled in the corners and swaddled you within the larger back and sleeves. 

“Corazon…?” you whispered after him, his eyes finding yours and granting you a soft smile while continuing to gather you into his material nest. “What are you-?” 

He reached forward, touching your lips with his fingers before gesturing up to the manor suite his bedroom door was adjoined. Satisfied with you safely tucked within the feathery quills of his lengthy coat, his eyes widened briefly in shock before his features softened all together. 

Firstly tucking his cock back into his pants, he redid his belt before fixing his shirt. You giggled at his silliness, watching each motion with interest while your body began to ache with the overexertion of taking his mass within your body. You attempted to move, wincing as you felt the sting of his bruising kisses and harsh movement against your body. 

At the soft hiss, Rosinante surged forward, caressing your cheek and checking you over. 

“I'm alright, Corazon,” you whisper with a soft smile, “Just a little achy. I'll be fine. I'm-.” 

Your words halt as something shrouds your eyes, warming your head, and eclipsing you with comfort. Eyes fluttering shut, you welcome the embrace of Corazon’s soft hat crowning your hair, the hearts dangling down on your chest and dancing on your skin. The feeling of his arms hooking beneath your legs once more returned, this time beneath the quills of his feathered cloak. 

Looking up at him as he hoisted you into the air, the sun warmed his skin with a soft pink. The orange and red mixing with the hues of purple over the Dressrosian horizon as he raised to full height. His hazelnut eyes fell over your face, his eyelashes fluttering and orbs darting their focus within your own. 

“Mine.”

He mouthed the words once more before walking with you cradled against himself towards his quarters. The gentle touch soothed your skin, the safety of his arms barricading you in his sweet hold as he ushered you to his room with a soft skip in his step. 

You truly felt it: mind, body, spirit, and soul. You were his. Truly, his. 

You belonged to Donquixote “Corazon” Rosinante. 

The only thoughts that withheld you from submitting completely was the knowing smile Doflamingo shot you from the double-arched doors over Rosinante’s shoulder. That unhinged grin, filled with amusement had you dreading the way you were likely going to give your boss a play by play over what had just occurred between you and his younger brother. 

For now, there was this: a man who was nuzzling against your neck, inhaling your scent, and attacking your cheek with soft kisses. The same man who coated your body in a spray of his cum, staining you and marking you as his. The man who had you climax so hard you saw each star littering the sky with renewed vibrancy. 

The man who held your heart completely. 

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

[lehguru]

CALLING THEM MY LOVE + ONE PIECE MEN

characters: rosinante, doflamingo, shanks, marco, crocodile

warnings: heavily self indulgent in like... 90% of those, not proofread

donquixote rosinante always uses soft nicknames for you, so you thought you could use them with him too. "my love, is law okay?" you expected his back to turn to you, but the man simply stayed like that. "rosi?", you approached him and he let you wrap your arms around his waist. he turned around and you felt something wet fall on your face. 'you never called me your love before.' his voice sounded so soft, he wrapped his arms around you too and placed a kiss on the top of your head. 'i love you.'

donquixote doflamingo is unpredictable; you always wanted to use pet names with him, but you don't know how he would react to it. one day, he walked in your shared bedroom looking absolutely tired and mad. "doffy? are you okay, my love?" his shoulders visibly relaxed and his usual wide grin creeped up on his face. 'oh?' he cooed and motioned with his hand for you to come closer. 'your love? baby, you flatter me.' his hand came up to hold your chin and he chuckled.

shanks and you aren't exactly official. everyone in the crew knows that you "belong" to their captain, but neither shanks nor you made things official. that's why you completely caught him off guard when you murmured: "shanks, my love, where did you put your dirty clothes?". he looked at you shocked, but he soon smiled widely at you. 'darling, ya know you don' have to wash my stuff. c'mere.' with his only arm, he pulled you closer and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. 'love ya'. the crew around both of you started cheering and cooing. shanks started laughing loudly and tried to dismiss them, but you felt him give your hand a tight squeeze.

you had injuried yourself a little during a battle, but marco immediately pulled you to the ship's infirmary when you two got back. you knew it was useless to say you didn't need it, so you just let him tend to your wounds. when he was over, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you murmured, "thanks, love". he chuckled loudly and messed up your hair. 'no problem, sweetheart.'

crocodile was feared by so many people, even among his "friends"; but you, you know you are on his soft and sweet side. "my love!" you exclaimed, entering his office with a dish you just prepared, "can you taste this for me?". his eyes went from rough and cold to slightly softer when you stopped right by his side, holding out a piece of the meat you made for him to bite. he bit it and groaned softly. 'it's delicious, angel.' you smiled at him and kissed his cheek, making him smile for a second, before turning back to his papers.

2023 © content belongs to lehguru, but the characters used in them belong to their respective creators!!

[innerfare]

I Love You - Part 2 

Summary: Who says I love you first? How do you say it?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Crocodile, Mihawk, Corazon, Marco

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Shanks: The two of you have known each other for years before the words ever leave his lips. You’ve been through so much, and you never felt the need to put a label on it. But one night, you’re both swinging in a hammock on a beach, you in his arms and him sipping a bottle of booze, and he says out of nowhere, “you know that I love you, right?” You think he must be drunk but he insists he’s not, telling you it struck him recently that he’d never told you before and he really should in case something happens. He wants you to know how he really feels and how much you mean to him. 

Beckman: He’s always visiting you on your home island, either finding excuses to plot a course straight to you or sneaking away for a few days. It’s only as he’s leaving one evening that it strikes him: he loves you. It takes him a very long time to decide to tell you. Given his lifestyle, a relationship isn’t exactly easy, and he would be putting you in danger should anyone learn your association to him. Plus, he enjoys his freedom. He works it over in his head for months, to the point Shanks even asks him about what’s bothering him, though Beckman doesn’t fess up. But he just can’t get you out of his head. He can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can’t even focus in a fight. One late night, he returns to his cabin to find Shanks waiting. His captain has puzzled out what has the first mate in such a state, and Shanks tells him to go take care of his business. Beckman agrees and turns up at your doorstep at three in the morning with some flowers he picked on the side of the road because he felt awkward showing up empty handed. You lead him into your kitchen and make him something to drink, thinking something horrible has happened, only for him to confess his love for you. He’s not shy about saying it after that, always making sure to tell you when he greets you and says goodbye, as well as several times in between. 

Crocodile: He despises the word love, would never even utter it except to mock people who use it. He thinks it’s weak, thinks men who profess love are sniveling and pathetic, thus the reason he despises himself for feeling it. The emotion creeps up on him slowly but surely, and he beats it back and bottles it up for as long as he can, staying up late at night with a bottle of whiskey because laying in bed makes him think of you and your mischievous smile. Only when he is locked up in Impel Down does he finally, begrudgingly admit to himself that he feels deep affection for you, which he painfully admits to you one night after he breaks out, bracing himself for you to reject him, laugh at him, or spurn him in any way. When you tell him you feel the same way, he decides that is that and sees no reason to ever repeat it, your mutual and abiding affection one of his most closely-guarded secrets. 

Mihawk: He doesn’t tell you when he feels it, however overwhelming the feeling may be, so you’ll definitely be the one to say it first. This man is the king of unspoken affection. He’d sooner die than draw his sword and cut through all the tension that seems to follow him. That being said, he does say it in other, more subtle ways, primarily referring to you as, “my love,” and leaving it at that. When you finally tell him you love him, he doesn’t even say it back, simply burying his face in your hair and saying, “I’m glad to hear it, my love.” He shocks you by saying it back a few months later, though you don’t say it back, instead pulling him in for a kiss. And it continues like that, only one of you ever saying it, the other responding with affection. 

Corazon: A victim of near insta-love, he knows better than to tell you how he’s feeling when he first meets you. He tells himself to wait a month, and then at the one month mark, it seems premature, so he pushes it to two. Then, he pushes it to three, and then to four, and then to five. He thinks he’s good at hiding it, and normally, he is good at hiding his emotions, but with you, it’s all out in the open. You catch on pretty quickly to how he feels, have even seen him start to form the words only for his face to fall and him to turn away. Eventually, one night, you ask him, “why haven’t you told me you love me yet?” He’s shocked to discover you know the truth, and when you laugh and tell him it was pretty obvious, he laughs, too, his heart soaring when you tell him you feel the same way. He’s overwhelmed by the feeling that he has a family, something he’s been desperately wanting since he was just a little kid. 

Marco: He says it first. He’s loved and lost so many people, formed the family he never had as a kid and lost so many members along the way. And he’s done a measure of living, enough to know that love should never be hidden. So when he realizes he’s in love with you, he swallows all of his fear like a seasoned professional and tells you exactly what’s on his mind the next time you two have a quiet moment alone. He’s soft and gentle in that moment, too, just as he is in all the moments you two share, just the two of you. He says it often, always either turning away or burying his face in your hair when you say it back, overwhelmed with giddiness he’s certain a man of his age and standing should not be feeling.

———

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

[penkura]

A Baby Sister

Note: I didn't realize it until I was writing this, but I legit gave all these men a daughter for their second child (or first or third for two of them on this). I can't believe I didn't notice, lol, I would've moved things around a little but, this is fine honestly. I tried to make it really cute and fluff, but the bonus turned a little angsty. :') The bonus is also what led to me wanting to write this. Enjoy!

Rogue is three when you and Ace have your second child, another little girl you name Ann. She’s just as tiny as her big sister was, and while Rogue has your hair, Ann looks exactly like Ace, all the way down her freckles. Ace definitely cried again when he got to hold her, hell he was crying as soon as she was born, you totally expected it though.

Rogue hated the two days she wasn’t with you, both you and Ace deciding to give her some time before you introduced her to her newborn sister, she stayed with Luffy and Sabo during the time you were in the hospital. After you’ve gone home, Ace picked her up and she refused to let him go until he got her home, when she sees you she hurries over to the couch and hugs you so tightly that you really do feel bad for having not seen her the last two days.

“Mama, I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Rogue! We’ve got a surprise for you, sweetheart.”

She brightens up hearing that, excitedly trying to ask what the surprise was while Ace brings Ann over, handing her to you before he picks up Rogue and sets her in his lap so she can see better.

“Rogue, this is your little sister, Ann.”

Rogue is beyond excited, she wants nothing more the rest of the day than to hold her sister, to the point she starts crying and Ace has to calm her down when you have to take your newborn to feed and change her. Once she has her back, Ace starts to feel a little jealous simply because he also wants to hold Ann for a while. The whole thing just makes you laugh and appreciate that you have others who want to hold her.

“At least she’s not mad about having a sister.”

Ace just pouts a bit in return. “I want to hold her too…”

~~

Law brings your son, six-year-old Rosinante, to see and meet his baby sister the day she was born. He takes him by your hospital room first, so your son can get some time with you before seeing his new little sister, even though he’s excited to meet her. He starts getting antsy and almost begging to meet her, before you finally laugh and look at Law.

“Why don’t you take him by the nursery? I’ll be fine for a bit.”

Agreeing with your suggestion, Law gives you a quick kiss on the forehead before taking Rosi’s hand and leading him down the hall to the nursery, stopping at the window and trying to find where your daughter was in the room. Once he finds her, he picks up Rosi and points where your newborn’s nursery bed is.

“See right there? That’s your sister, she’s got the bear you picked out for her.”

Rosi’s eyes light up once he sees where she is, seeing Law is correct, the little polar bear plush he’d picked out months ago was in the corner of the bed. She’s so small! He didn’t think she’d ever be so little, even after he met some of your friends babies, they were all a few months old.

“What’s her name, dad?”

“Cora. She’s got a hat on, but she has the same hair color you and I do.”

Rosi nods while Law watches him for a minute, smiling just a bit. He had been a little concerned about how your son would react when you decided to have another child, but you were able to convince him that Rosi would be a wonderful big brother, he had Law as an example, after all. Watching Rosi over the last several months, from when he grinned and hugged you when you told him you were pregnant, to when he was happy to hear he was getting a sister, you were proven right over and over again.

After watching him for a few moments, Law presses a kiss to the top of your son’s head and looks back to your daughter.

“Cora’s going to be depending on you, all right? My sister relied on me for somethings while she was little, so do your best, and your mom and I will help you both.”

“Okay, dad,” Rosi nods, before looking back to Law, “Can I hold her?”

“Yeah, of course. We’ll go back to mom’s room and get them to bring her in.”

~~

Having been an only child, Penguin wasn’t sure how your four-year-old daughter Wren was going to react to meeting her little sister, Ivy. Wren had seemed a bit concerned at the beginning of your pregnancy when you were sick, and didn’t have much of a reaction when you told her the baby was a girl. She barely had any interest in meeting Law’s newborn daughter a few weeks prior, running off to play with Rosi instead.

Once your second child was born, Penguin brought Wren to meet her, but after finally seeing her new sister, she refused to hold her, instead holding onto Penguin and hiding her face in his shoulder. After you bring Ivy home, Wren still isn’t interested in seeing her much, attaching herself to whichever one of you isn’t holding the new baby at the time.

Eventually, when Ivy is sleeping in her bassinet one day, Wren stands up on her tiptoes to watch her baby sister sleep. She’s still not sure about this, having a little sibling so suddenly, but she’s starting to think it’s okay, after watching you and Penguin with her the last few weeks. Wren reaches out and barely touches Ivy’s tiny hand, almost beaming when her baby sister grabs onto her finger.

You and Penguin had been watching Wren while she stared at Ivy, just making sure everything was all right, and it makes him smile at the same time when she starts to accept her new baby sister. When you lean into him, Penguin hugs you close and kisses your temple.

“I told you everything would be fine. She just needed some time.”

“Yeah, I know…you’re always right in the end.”

~~

Having twins was a trip already, you still don’t know how Sanji convinced you to have another child. Sora and Angel were a handful at times, but now that they were five-years-old, they could do more on their own, and Sanji used that as a reason for you to go ahead and have your next baby, which ended up happening immediately. You figured it would be a few months of trying before you got a positive test but nope, first try out the gate and here comes baby number three.

You don’t mind so much once your second daughter is born, a blonde little girl you choose to name Grace, she seems so much smaller than either of the twins were despite being born full term. She’s a perfect addition to your family though, and your twins think the same when they get to meet her.

Both are pushing the other away from the nursery bed, standing on the side facing out from your hospital bed, trying to get a good look at their sister. Angel is beyond thrilled at having a baby sister, while Sora just wants to see what she looks like.

Sanji eventually goes over and lifts up Angel, telling the two to be quiet because you were sleeping, and so was baby Grace. Angel quiets when she’s able to see her little sister better, Sora following suit as he can actually see her now. The two just watch her sleep, Sanji wonders if they’re actually happy or worried about having a new baby sibling until Angel looks at him.

“Can I hold her?”

“I wanna hold her!”

“I asked first!”

“I’m older!!”

Sighing, Sanji smiles in relief, glad your twins are excited about the new baby, until she starts to cry because they’ve disturbed her with their argument about who gets to hold her first.

~~

Keitaro has just barely turned two when you have your daughter. You never expected to have two in two, but it happened and truthfully, you weren’t upset about it when you found out you had a little girl. She’s so tiny when Zoro holds her, he's completely in love the moment he sees her. Your children were both unplanned, but you don’t think you’d change anything about how your life is going, and Zoro is the same, he's told you that multiple times.

When Keitaro properly meets her, it’s a few days after she’s born, some rule the midwives in Shimotsuki Village still follow, they wouldn’t even let Zoro be with you when you gave birth, you really had wished you were still on the Sunny this time. It’s not really a formal meeting for the two, but you think it works just fine.

Keitaro sits up on the floor by your daughter laying on a pink baby blanket that Robin had given you for her, she just somehow knew you were having a girl. Your son just stares at her for a long time, a pacifier in his mouth that doesn’t let you see what he’s really thinking. He reaches over to touch her cheek after a few minutes, a small giggle leaving his mouth when she scrunches her face and pouts in her sleep. Zoro stops him before he does it too much, placing his hand in front of your toddler’s to keep him from making her cry.

“That’s enough, you don’t want her to cry.”

Keitaro whines before pouting himself, until he squeals when Zoro lifts him up and sets him in his lap.

“Her name’s Kuina. What do you think, buddy?”

He tries to sound it out, but he’s still too little to say it correctly, the name mostly coming out as ‘Koo-na’, which makes you smile even as he starts to get frustrated and nearly cries before you gently shush him.

“Shh, it’s okay. You can just call her baby until you’re ready.”

Rubbing at his eyes, Keitaro yawns and snuggles against Zoro, part of his frustration being from needing a nap. You both watch as your children sleep quietly, glad their first meeting went well, anxious to see how the two grow up now.

~~

Your and Corazon’s first child, a baby girl, comes along just two months after you’ve taken in and formally adopted ten-year-old Trafalgar Law, when you’re both just twenty-three yourselves. Almost overnight you have two children to take care of, though Law isn’t that interested in your daughter at first. You get it, he’s still working through the sudden loss of his parents and little sister, he calls you and your husband by nicknames, not viewing you as his parents yet but that’s fine, you don’t want to rush anything with him.

It’s why you tell Corazon not to force Law to see your daughter right away, when the boy refuses to have anything to do with her and leaves your hospital room. You’re not upset at all, you know this must be hard for him. To lose and regain a family in a matter of weeks, then have a new sister so quickly as well, it’s a lot to take in at such a young age. You know he hasn’t gone too far, probably just sitting by your door, he’s just overwhelmed, you reason to Corazon, who nearly dragged Law back when he turned to leave before running out.

“He needs time, we need to give him that.”

It’s later that day, when Corazon has left to get something for him and Law to eat, that he leaves the three of you alone, finally convincing Law to at least sit in your room instead of outside the door. You have been holding your daughter for a while, noticing that Law is quietly looking over every now and then, and it makes you smile.

“You wanna come see her? It’s okay if you don’t. I won’t force you, Law.”

He doesn’t say anything, but eventually comes over, sitting beside you to get a look at your newborn while you adjust her blanket so he can see her face better. It’s hard for you to get a read on Law sometimes, he’s already good at masking his emotions, so you give him a few minutes of watching her before you say anything.

“Her name is Evangeline. What do you think?”

“…she’s small.”

“She is! She’s got her daddy’s hair too!”

“I was hoping she’d look like you.”

That makes you laugh lightly, nodding. It probably has to do with his sister having looked like his mother, you’ve seen the few pictures he has of his family. They were both lovely, Law looks just like his father. After another moment or so, you’re surprised but happy to see him reach over and let Evangeline hold his hand, the slightest smile on his face.

���Can you do me a favor, Law? Evie is my first baby, and I know you’ve had a bit of experience with your sister…can you help me and Rosinante take care of her? She’s going to need a great big brother to watch over her.”

There’s no response for a bit, but when he nods, you’re happily relieved. You were worried that he wasn’t going to accept another change so quickly, even though you knew it would likely take a long time for him to get used to this.

When Corazon comes back, he can’t fight the smile on his face to see the three of you sleeping, Evangeline still in your arms while Law is attached to your side, holding onto your arm.

Everything is going to be fine.

[moonbaby26]

Sorry, I don’t know who made this chart. But it made my day. 🤣🤣🤣 My beautiful marines. I love them. Let me add three pirates though. Just crack below, not intended to be serious. Please don’t mind me.

Fic Masterlist

You’re laying in bed together. You turn to them and ask: “If I was a worm, would you still love me?”

Doflamingo

“The…fuck? Of course you’re a worm! You’re all worms!” The angry silence hangs in the air as you stare at one another, but he can’t take it for long before he has to keep talking in his agitation. You’ve riled him back up now. “Idiot. Didn’t I warn if you said such a stupid thing again, I’d fill that mouth of yours with something far more attractive?” Yet he still smirks at you because he was going to do this later anyway. But you’ve just guaranteed that it will be now instead and even that much rougher. Way to go you stupid worm, he thinks to himself. Hope you like the carpet burns on your knees and a sore throat to match.

Corazon/Rosinante (honorary pirate 😆)

“…….” He stares at you to the point that you start to get upset, but his expression changes to him being equally devastated as soon as you are. He grabs his notepad from the nightstand and frantically writes on it. It says: “Of course I’d still love you! But you are not a worm, please don’t ever think that!” He proceeds to accompany that writing with the most heartfelt, adoring stare you’ve ever seen on a man. He then cuddles you intensely for the rest of the night. The only worm he sees here is himself. He’s terrified that you’ll realize this too eventually because he does not deserve you.

Law

He gives a drawn out sigh, thinking that this is exactly what happens when you spend too much time with Shachi and Penguin. “Go. To. Sleep.” He says in utter annoyance before looking back to you and the puppy eyes you are now giving him. And this is something else that you have obviously learned from Bepo instead. It’s infuriating, but he just wants to go to sleep dammit as his resolve finally breaks. “Fine. What species of worm are you? Does it reproduce sexually or through parthenogenesis?” You don’t even know what that word means though. And he realizes that. Congratulations, you’ve now earned a biology lecture on the reproductive habits of a very specific flatworm species he had to dissect back in school at Flevance. You fall asleep while he’s still talking.