#shanks x reader

[grandline-fics]

I'm so in love with your writing, I'd love to see the "one bed trope" from you! Maybe a little suggestive, as far as you're comfortable, of course.

DESCRIPTION: There was only one bed

WARNINGS:  nothing too suggestive, more on the fluff side

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks

WORDS: 2,065

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I didn't know which characters you wanted so used the most popular form the recent poll. I had intended to do Ace as well but only had the energy to get something done for Shanks and Mihawk. I love this trope so much that i'll probably do more parts in the future. I hope you're happy with what I came up with and I'm sorry I didn't make it suggestive.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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MIHAWK

You were going to kill Crocodile. Not only did he order you to the tiniest island you’d seen in a long while, were the only thing in abundance seemed to be gloomy expressions but he also insisted you go to ‘keep an eye on' Mihawk. Since you considered Crocodile your main superior-a perspective you hadn't dropped since your Baroque Works days- you couldn't exactly refuse the assignment but it just made zero sense for you to be here. For starters Mihawk worked alone and efficiently enough that he didn’t require anyone to look out for him. Plus ‘observation’ wasn’t your usual role in Cross Guild. Normally Crocodile handed you a bounty list, told you to pick one and go get them. 

This was just one big headache and to make matters worse after scouring the entire island a call came through from Crocodile saying the bounty had already been completed and just handed in. Now you really were going to kill your boss, but from the look on Mihawk’s face it seemed you would have to get in line. From the receiver, Crocodile’s laugh caught both of your attentions.  “Look these things happen so stop pouting. Just make your way back to Cross Guild.”

Mihawk didn’t offer a response and ended the call, walking out of the alley you’d both stopped at to take the call. Silently you fell into step beside the former Warlord, walking the streets of the island for what felt like the hundredth time already. You let out a sigh of relief to see the inn come into view, now the only thing on your mind was trying to get a good night’s sleep and calm your annoyance at the whole situation. You couldn’t even muster a polite smile to the receptionist at the desk. “Two please.”

“Oh.” The receptionist glanced between you and Mihawk, her expression trained with years of experience to appear calm but you both saw the flicker of nervousness in her eyes for the smallest moment. “I’m sorry but we’re booked almost to capacity.”

“You’re joking.” You muttered. Why was everything going against you today? “You have nothing left?”

“W-well we’re a small island. Rooms go fast but we do have one room available.” You and Mihawk exchanged a look, both composed. Then the receptionist had to uselessly add. “Only one bed…” With a sigh you held out your hand for the key, knowing there wasn't much choice. Muttering thanks you glanced at the number of the keyring and headed for your room for the night. Stepping inside you found it lived up to your very low expectations but at least it was clean. Silently you eyed the bed you would have to share and looked to your stoic roommate. “So which side of the bed do you want?” 

As expected Mihawk was mature and respectable about the whole thing. Calm as ever he chose his side-the one closest to the door- and settled in for the night. Mihawk’s ability to fall over to sleep at ease was enviable because in the dark you could hear his deep, even breaths as he slept facing away from you. As tired as you were and as comfortable as you normally did feel in Mihawk’s presence you just couldn’t fall asleep. While the bed you lay in wasn't the worst you’d ever had to sleep in, it wasn’t the comfiest and living at Cross Guild had practically spoiled you. You’d gotten so used to stretching out, something you couldn’t exactly do at this moment. 

Deciding to just make do with your half of the bed and not disturb Mihawk, you rolled onto your side with the intention of getting comfortable. The only problem was you’d vastly overestimated the room you had to move and could only gasp as you felt the bed disappear from under you. In a split second as you braced to hit the ground, you were instead caught by a pair of hands. With ease you were pulled back onto the bed and you tensed to feel your back make contact with the warmth of Mhawk’s chest. “Sorry for waking you.”

“It’s fine, just sleep.” He told you while pulling one arm back to tuck his hand under his pillow. You tried not to react to how sleep brought Mihawk’s voice to a lower register that made it so much more attractive to you. You only nodded at his instruction and shifted slightly, already so much more comfortable than you had been all night. The only thing now was you noticed Mihawk still had one arm loosely draped over your body, not quite holding you but still enveloping you in his touch. “This is only to keep you from falling out of the bed again.”

“I didn’t say anything…” You mused, lips curving into a teasing smile that Mihawk could practically hear in the dark. “If you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask.”

“Don’t make me kick you out of this bed.” Mihawk warned in your ear, despite the threat you smirked to feel his arm over you tighten just a little. 

“Relax, your secret is safe with me.” Ordinarily you would have teased him a little more but between the tiredness finally winning over you and the warmth of his body against yours being so comforting. For a moment Mihawk wondered if you were genuinely comfortable against him, ready to release you at the first sign of unease. Yet you surprised him when you yawned and lazily placed your hand over his arm and smile in satisfaction as your eyes slid closed, your breathing evening out as you fell asleep.

Mihawk had been taking his time to slowly get to know you and let you in little by little, but now watching you roll onto your other side and curl up against his chest he began to reconsider his actions. Perhaps a few more missions away from Cross Guild’s base wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

SHANKS

This type of situation should not be happening in this day and age. Not with your crew and Captain having the reputation and fame they had. Drawing names to see who was sharing rooms of all things reminded you of when the crew was only just forming and the coin to pay for individual rooms was a luxury. Some of the others on the crew shared your slight annoyance but you all knew that there wasn’t much you could do about it. The ship needed repairs after getting damaged in a ferocious storm with the sleeping quarters affected and unusable for now. You were all pirates after all and you supposed you needed to be reminded of that. 

Still though you were secretly hoping you were one of the lucky ones who got their own room. You mentally cursed when Ben pulled out a slip of paper and read your name out. Resigned to your fate you grabbed your drink and took a plentiful mouthful as the vice-captain grabbed another piece of paper to announce your roommate for the night. As you wiped the stray remnant of the liquid from your lip you spotted the man pause and fight a laugh, disguising his amusement by rubbing the lower half of his face. “Captain Shanks.” 

Your back went rigid and you ignored the burning stares of the rest of the crew as you instead turned your attention to the man in question. Even he seemed momentarily thrown by the announcement but he recovered swiftly as expected of the laidback man. His dark eyes met your gaze and he offered you a cheeky smile and a wink.

That night when all the drinking had been done you and Shanks stepped into your shared room. Without needed to consult on anything you both instinctively went to your preferred side of the bed to sleep on. You sat down and worked on kicking off your shoes and shrugging out of your coat to at least be a little comfier. You looked over your shoulder when Shanks lightly cleared his throat as he pulled back the cover to settle down on the mattress. “Problem Cap?”

“Not really.” Shanks mused with a sly smile. “I usually sleep naked is all.”

“Poor baby, I’m sure you can be brave and at least keep your trousers on for one night.” You teased, used to your Captain’s antics and knowing he was only making jokes to ease the slight tension at having to share like this. With a tired groan you settled down on your side of the bed as Shanks flicked off the light, bringing the room fully into darkness. “If not the barmaid should still be about to help you.”

“And downgrade my sleeping partner? I’d rather lose another limb.” Shanks told you dramatically, offended you’d suggest such a thing. You let out a huff of amusement and rolled your eyes as you stared tiredly at the ceiling, letting yourself grow more comfortable against the mattress. “I lost count how many of the crew wanted me to swap with them…”

“Uh-huh.“ You mused with a lazy smile before breaking out into a long yawn, sleep coming over you quickly now. “Well aren’t you lucky? Now go to sleep, ‘kay?”

“Can I at least get a good night kiss?” Shanks teased lightly, playfully tapping your nose and grinning in the darkened room to see your tired face scrunch up slightly. He’d said it as a joke, something for you to barely register in your mind as you drifted off to sleep. What he hadn’t expected though was you to roll onto your side and push yourself up with a low hum of sleepiness, not even bothering to open your eyes fully. 

He watched silently, completely overcome with curiosity as your hand reached out to skim your fingers against his face, searching for him in the dark. Your hand settled against his cheek and slowly you drew closer. With half-lidded eyes Shanks couldn’t take his gaze off of your slightly parted lips. 

“Shanks…” your voice was barely a breathy whisper but it was clear as a bell to Shanks, his attention raptly on you and only you. Quickly you pulled back just enough and opened your eyes to smirk slightly to see Shanks had leant in slightly to chase your lips he had been quietly eager to taste.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Shanks protested with a small pout, his hand dropping to the small of your back, fingers flexing slightly a gesture, to request you close the distance. He wasn’t forcing you, you had all the power here. You tilted your head and smiled at the sudden pet-name. You couldn’t deny the temptation to give in to your own idle curiosities about your handsome Captain. Given how you were sharing a bed and he'd requested a kiss you would have been foolish to throw away the opportunity you had. Still you had to at least get a little bit more fun out of it by keeping Shanks in momentary suspense. 

Finally you relented and kissed Shanks, your lips moving languidly against his; it being no surprise to you the he was already returning the action with no hesitancy. There was no fight for dominance in the kiss you shared but you could feel the power and command of Shanks’ presence over you but he left the pace, duration, and intensity entirely up to you. As much as you wanted to take it further, to push your curiosity and attraction towards the man against you for your own satisfaction you had to pull away reluctantly, knowing you wouldn’t have been able to enjoy what would follow fully with how tired you were. “Satisfied with your good night kiss, Captain?”

“You have no idea.” Shanks grinned pressing a quick kiss against your head as you settled down on the bed again. “I can now sleep peacefully and dream the sweetest dreams.”

“Good.” You grinned sleepily, opening your eyes just enough to fix him a playful smile. “I expect a good morning kiss in return by the way.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, love.” Shanks grinned at you, already counting down the hours until he got to feel his lips against yours again but for now he would enjoy the time he had to sleep beside you.

——————————————-

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[vermillyons]

You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed.

The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer.

you write shanks so endearingly here, the way he's so head over heels for them 🥰. it's almost childlike in how unabashed he is about it but it also juxtaposes with how insightful he is with him paying attention to reader's moods.

Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).

ok but shanks tucking you in is so sweet 🥺💖. bc im a sap im going to imagine he gave you a kiss on the head and a little pat after that.

your mihawk jealousy headcanon made me think too much about how he'd express his jealousy before and during a relationship that it's gonna end up being its own post 😭✌️ (no im not biased whattt)

At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he’s capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair.

mihawk really is the embodiment of “he’s just standing there! menacingly!” you did a really good job at describing mihawk’s body language and mood. i can’t help but smile at the image of mihawk staring daggers at the ex (poor marine).

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

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

the implication of mihawk being so aloof towards reader that they can’t even figure out why mihawk’s so pissy like please 😭. mihawk you did this to yourself. also me going 👀 at the second quote’s wording “They don’t deserve you. But he could.” like the implications… the usage of “could” instead of “does” when it comes to mihawk deserving you.

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

he is so cringe (affectionate)

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

good ass imagery. i love the contrast between mihawk being ominous and protective, the way his possessiveness seems to take physical form here. it’s bad news for the ex but not necessarily for reader.

also:

“I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen’s rack. What’s the occasion?” Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue. “You’ve been good.” Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, “I could give you more rewards.”

im going to hold back from saying anything too incoherently horny. anyways, i hope they makeout sloppy.

crocodile strikes me as the type of menace to sabotage any dates that you’d try to go on if it’s with anyone else but him. reservations get mysteriously canceled, transport breaks down, that kind of stuff. in true mr. 0 fashion, he’d pretend he had nothing to do with it.

since this reader is his assistant, i can see them being smart enough to figure it out. either their reaction can be indifferent (all those red flags just look like flags when you’re a criminal lol), bothered by the lying, or amused (like, wow, he didn’t have to do all that if he wanted them so bad).

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

(point and laugh) he liiikes them!

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

this captures his condescending and imperious apathy so well. it’s like it’s beaming a picture of crocodile directly into my brain. giving the same energy when crocodile went “idgaf about your plans” to blackbeard. he’s the worst 💖💖💖

the metal isn’t cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.

ok ok ok 😳👉👈 what a nice, subtly sensual detail.

Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.

crocodile is going to be so insufferably smug once he finds out why reader’s been reconnecting with their ex.

When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.

daz bonez, being an assassin, has definitely killed for pettier reasons but he really just killed the ex with no questions asked. unmatched loyalty! give this man infinite paid vacation days even if he’d never take them.

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

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

Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡

Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile

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

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

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

Shanks

The clinging and diverting type

This mf tries to be sneaky about it

Key word: tries

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

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

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

Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mihawk

The intimidating and biting type

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

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

It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine

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

This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sir Crocodile

The assertive and analytical type

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That just won't do.

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

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

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

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

"I'm-"

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

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

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

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

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

"Wrong."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you see where they went?"

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

You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.

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

Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

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

Part of a little celebration

[lady-lauren]

❥ Shanks x Fem!Reader

❥ Word Count: 2.7k

❥ Warnings/Tags: Dilf/Babysitter, established relationship, praise, daddy kink, light somnophilia, breeding, marking/bruising, choking, dacryphilia, overstimulation, creampie

❥ Happy Holidays!! For @pixelcafe-network’s Secret Santa, I was given the lovely @semisgroupie as my elf 🥰 Hopefully this fic has a few of your ~favorite things~ 🎁

Cool fingers run down the warmth of your back, tracing the curve of your spine with skin chilled from the sea.

Tonight you’re half asleep, lashes fluttering from where your face is snuggled into the couch cushions. By the looks of it, you put his baby to bed a few hours ago and slipped into a nap while gathering and cleaning the toys strewn around the den.

When Shanks hired you as his kid’s babysitter, he purposely gave you a little more than your asking price with an ulterior motive. Because he knew one day he’d smooth your edges, poke holes into your professional demeanor and fill the gaps with him.

It took patience, mostly because his sailing career kept him away from the house for weeks. But every time he came home, you warmed to him, like a cat taking hesitant steps closer until you finally landed in his lap.

He doesn’t think to wake you, instead he moves how he pleases. His fingers dip underneath the waistband of your soft pants, seeking the heat between your thighs.

You coo, drowsy and cute. Shanks continues, thick fingers languishing through your folds, building your wetness until a dark spot forms on cotton.

“Pretty baby likes that, yeah?” He asks even though he knows you won’t answer, cheek snuggling deeper into the couch as your hips buck like you missed him.

All he thinks of is you. Surely all you dream of is him. His sweet little babysitter, his perfect little slut.

Shanks pulls your pants down around your thighs, the fabric stretching as his fingers bury deeper into your cunt. Your heart begins to thump as you awaken, fear and shock and pleasure converging as he spears two thick fingers into your pussy.

“You drool when you sleep,” he teases, kissing along your cheek until he slots his mouth over yours. You mumble something against his tongue, thighs pressing together with a moan as you feel the pads of his fingers curl just right within you.

“I don’t,” your pout is cute, flushed, hips wiggling to get the palm of his hand to press against your aching clit.

Shanks pulls his hand from your pussy, sideways grin catching the light of the muted TV in the dark room. Slick drips from his skin and smears into your sweats as he pushes them down over your knees, letting you sleepily kick the fabric onto the floor next to a group of discarded toy blocks.

“You do.” He pulls you into his lap so easily, his sea-battled body thick but agile. His fingers slide back between your folds as you settle across his thighs. Skimming the outer lips of your pussy, he spreads you wide before prodding his index finger at your entrance. The press is wet, sticky, a squish against heated skin. “You’re so messy.”

The annoyance that flickers across your face, the twist of your lips and the furrow in your brow, makes his cock swell against the seam of his pants.

“It’s not my fault.” Yet you shiver when a delectable jolt signals down your body as his knuckles slide back into your tight hole.

“Don’t lie to Daddy,” his lips trail along your throat, breathing in the sweet scent that’s been haunting him for weeks, “you’ve just been waiting for me to get home and fuck you stupid. Probably dreaming ‘bout me knocking you up.”

“Have not. I’ve been busy taking care of your k-kid, I don’t need, ah, more little Shanks running around.”

But the way your cunt sucks and pulses around his fingers tells him the truth.

His fingers spread you apart, building a pace that makes your nails cling into the worn shirt on his shoulders. He relishes the feel of you, groans as your cunt drools into the palm of his hand. Your hips start to buck in bliss, the little bit of brat in you fading as he swirls the pad of his thumb against your clit.

Something delightfully wicked toils in his stomach as his cock twitches against his thigh.

“That so? You didn’t miss me? Weren’t dreamin’ bout me?”

Your pretty head shakes no, lips pressing together as you ride his hand, desperation and pleasure blurring your senses.

“Then Daddy better give you something to dream about next time he’s gone.”

Thick, long fingers stroke a fire against your velvety walls, each plunge deeper and deeper than before. His thumb presses dreamily against your clit, each swipe and swirl making you shake.

As soon as you loom against the orgasmic edge, he slows down, the raging hot sea ebbing away like tides returning to the ocean. He lets you squirm in his lap, smirking against your neck as he starts to suck against your pulse. His hot tongue slides a cool trail along your skin, tasting the cry stuck in your throat.

As patient as Shanks can be, he can’t deny your pleasure for long. Not when you start to babble nonsense, little whispers of please Daddy like you just can’t help yourself. Your hips fall down, humping and rubbing against his hand and pressing it down against his leaking cock.

“Already getting a little stupid for me, hm?” He smirks as you kiss him, all sloppy and messy like you’re chasing a wet dream just out of reach. You still taste of the lipgloss you first wore to his house for your interview, strawberries and cream, delectable ripe fruit he couldn’t wait to devour.

“You know we shouldn’t…” the memory of your timid voice rings in his ears as he remembers pinning you against the kitchen counter, rubbing his hot cock against the weeping seam of your panties. But you let him have you anyways, teary and doe eyed with your t-shirt between your teeth so he could watch your tits bounce with his thrusts.

His thumb becomes a vortex on your clit, drawing blinding pleasure until your eyes squeeze closed with tears framing your lashes.

“Oh, sweet girl, gonna make you cum for me so you’re nice and swollen when I fuck you.”

You’re panting, body begging for release. Your nails scrape down his chest, searching for an anchor as you start to get washed away. Shanks tempts you closer with another thrust of his fingers, the resounding bliss making you whimper. He rocks your body back, spreads you wider across his lap, watching how your pretty pussy stretches around his huge fingers.

“Daddy,” such a small, sweet whisper, “daddy, daddy, please!”

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh, no need to wake the baby.”

You’re the perfect picture: hair still crinkled from sleep, tits bouncing beneath one of his soft shirts, cunt spread around fingers calloused from pulling sail lines. His teeth clench as he restrains himself from pushing in too deep, keeping his pace fast and thumb coiling you tighter and tighter like a wind-up doll.

You absolutely shatter around him, head tilting back as your hips finally cease from chasing your high. Your thighs quiver, pussy spasming, orgasm flooding all your senses as you breathe out his name in reverence. Shanks slows, electing to watch you unfold for him. He sees the muscles in your lower stomach contracting, feels your pulsing pleasure on his fingers, slick coating his skin in gentle waves. Your chest heaves as you finally look at him, eyes glassy.

“Atta girl, good girl,” he loves the way you coo when he pulls his fingers from your slit, like you already miss him, “now help me out of these pants.”

He’s overly pleased at how quickly you move, nimble fingers tugging at his belt and dragging down his zipper. Feeling your hand squeeze around his freed cock makes him groan, low and deep like a predator released from his cage.

“I think you missed me more than I missed you,” you taunt, smearing pre-cum down his shaft as you pump his length.

“I don’t get to stay at home and fuck myself with toys, princess. Just get to fuck my hand and waste my cum when it should be inside your pretty cunny.”

You gasp as he pulls you down, sliding your messy cunt over the ridge of his cock. Your sensitive clit catches against the head of his cock and you bite your lip to stay quiet.

“Tell Daddy what you want, you know I’ll give it to you.”

He expects your momentary silence. He’s been pushing you for months, feeding you hints of how he’s waiting for you to make this permanent, to take your relationship farther than just a transaction between Dad and babysitter.

“I want…”

Shanks leans forward, blowing red hair out of his face as he starts nipping and sucking at your throat, undoubtedly breaking flesh and leaving little bruises in his wake.

“Yeah?” Shanks starts prodding your weeping hole with his cock, dipping the head past the first tight ring of muscle. You whine, shifting your hips and trying to push down, yet his strong hand keeps you from taking in more of his shaft.

“Want you to breed me, Daddy.”

A deep, satisfied growl erupts from his large chest. He releases your hip, lets your slick pussy start engulfing his dick. He cants his hips up, rocking into you, inch by inch fucking into your cunt.

Shanks wraps a firm hand around your neck. You suck in a quick breath at the ferocity of his fingers as they press into already bruising flesh. He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze. He watches how you search his face, glancing across the scars on his eye before landing on the smirk tugging his cheek.

“You promise that’s what you want? Want me to make you a mommy?”

You nod your head as affirmatively as you can in his hold, feeling his strong fingers flex against your throat.

Too quickie, he bullies his cock inside of you. You cry out, a tear falling down the apple of your cheek as you stretch around him and take what he gives you. You swallow against the anchor of his hand, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth as he bounces you in his lap.

“Always so pretty when you cry.”

It must feel so good to be so fucking full, he muses, a playful smile dancing across his face as you mewl for him. The head of his cock is fat and firm, nestling just below your cervix with every thrust. Every roll of your hips has the ridge of his cock sliding just right against your spongy walls, stuffing you more and more every time you come back down to rest against his thighs. He’s throbbing within you, anxious to fill your guts with cum.

Rhythmic little moans begin to pour from your lips, the vibrations tingling against his chokehold. He lets his fingers ease so you can catch breath, only to cinch tighter and make your pretty head float to the clouds as he fucks you.

“Oh Daddy,” the name is so lewd yet so sweet from your mouth, unable to control yourself as hot waves of bliss wash over your body.

“That’s right, baby, gonna fill you to the fucking brim and breed you. Give you babies that look like me, fuck,” each word is punctuated with a heavy thrust of his cock into your depths, stretching and filling, “make you mine and keep you.”

“Yes, yes, please, want your babies, need to feel you cum in me.”

“Been watchin’ you with my kid for so long, want us makin’ our own, want you here every time I come home.”

He’s not sure if the sparkling tears that start dribbling down your pretty face are happy or overwhelmed, but he doesn’t really care. He catches one against your cheek with his tongue, salt against his lips.

A tumble of strangled curses meet his ears, smothered by his hand and by the sound of his thick balls slapping against your ass. You’re getting tight again, clit rubbing against the patch of crimson curls and fit muscles with every push and pull he gives you.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect to have my babies, perfect to get fucked dumb.”

“Ah-ah, yes, Daddy, such a good girl for you, promise. Please make me c-cum, please, wanna milk your cock so, so bad.”

Music to his ears. This is what he dreams of on late nights, in a cramped ship cabin with his cock strangled in his fist—you, crying pretty tears, begging to let him breed you.

His balls tighten as your cunt cinches. Thoughts of making you his, breeding you every night until you ripen with his child overtake every corner of his brain until he’s nothing but a primal machine barreling into your body.

Shanks’ instincts go into overdrive, hand releasing your neck so he can grab your hip and pull you down with every snap of his cock into your oversensitive cunt. Your slick is drooling again, pooling against his thighs, soaking into his couch cushions. He doesn’t even care that sweat is dripping from his brow, red hair falling into his face and yours as he crushes you to him and dares to take everything he wants and more.

He’s racing to orgasm, can feel it in his weary shoulders, in his stomach. Your pussy is twitching, squelching, begging him for another release. His thumb finds its way to your clit again, pressing far too hard, but he needs to make you cry for him, to feel you come apart in his lap.

“Love fucking this tight little cunny, you’re perfect for me.”

He puts unholy pressure on your clit, coiling you until you explode, a mess of tears and slick as you convulse around the width of his cock. The suction makes his eyes roll back, shoulders falling against the back of the couch as he continually fucks into you.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it, baby. Give me another.”

“Shanks!” you squeal, but quickly slap your hand over your mouth, eyes shutting tightly as you try to listen for the sound of a waking baby over the cacophony of sex in the room. “C-can’t,” you whisper, “can’t do another.”

“Oh yes you can, pretty baby. You have it in you.”

His thumb is mean against your clit. Hot, right circles that make your legs shake, cunt squishing around the bounce of his cock.

“Please, please, I can’t. Just cum, cum in me and breed me and—”

“One more, just one more. Wanna milk my cock, yeah? Wanna suck all my seed into your guts? One more.”

You let him have you, slumping against his chest as he works in and out, in and out, toying with your clit until you’re crying again. You shake uncontrollably, jumping against his lap when too sharp pleasure rockets down your back and tickles your toes.

“Love you so much, baby, you know that right?”

“Mmmhmmm,” you whimper and nod, burying your face into his shirt and clinging to his sides for dear life.

“Love your cunny, love your pretty face, love how you take care of me and my kid. Love you,” he groans from deep within, feeling your hot pussy cream around him as he draws the last bits of pleasure from you.

You gush and shiver, mewling as your cunt squeezes and draws the cum from his balls. He pulls you close as he finally unloads, hand leaving your glossy cunt to pet your hair, making a mess of you as cum starts to string from his cock.

“God, that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.”

He pumps his load into you, warmth flooding your insides as your cunt struggles take what he gives. Cum starts to burst from the seam of where he plugs you, bubbling out and painting your thighs.

A few moments pass, your ear pressed to his raging heartbeat as you both catch your breath.

“I think you missed me,” he teases, classic grin on his face as you look up at him.

You poke his dimple, freckled from days out in the sun. “We missed each other, silly. Don’t stay away so long next time.”

Shanks kisses your forehead, making no move to unlodge his cock, content to sit with you and feel your tits press to his chest.

“I think, as captain, I can make a new rule for more parental leave. I’m getting you pregnant before I leave for the next trip.”

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 32 - All Blends 3

Holy shit its been a long time since I've updated this. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter and be on the lookout for the next one in the next few days!

Summary! You meet Katakuri, and the boys are upset and make plans to get you back!

Peppermint Tea Masterlist -> HERE

You stare at Big Mom in horror. Wife? You’d heard about the Emporer before and her obsession with expanding her family, but never in a million years did you think that you would be up for the chopping block. The emperor cackles at the look you send her.

“Oh don’t look so down, princess. If you hadn’t disappeared all those years ago, we wouldn’t have had to drag you back here,” The woman hisses down at you, and you watch in disgust as you watch Charlotte pick up a plate of sweets and begin to scarf them down, talking with her mouth full of cake, “But it’s no matter. My sons tell me that you are pregnant, so any child that you have will be taken care of. That way, you can be free for my sweet Katakuri.”

You don’t like the way she says this as if the baby that grows inside of you is nothing but a burden to be thrown away and forgotten. You grit your teeth, and take a look at the man who is to be your “husband”. Despite his rather feral look and the sharp teeth, you can see poking out from between his lips, there is a softness in his gaze that tells you he isn’t exactly happy with the arrangement that his mother has made for him. You want to shout and argue, but you know that even if you did, nothing would change. No threats that you made would be taken seriously, not when you were in the middle of Big Mom’s territory.

Unbidden, your devil fruit activates, sending a chill through the room and making Sukuna grumble and growl from where he lies pressed against your chest. Hank whines and presses himself closer to your leg, and his support makes you feel a tiny bit better about your situation. You wish more than anything that your boys were here so that they could shield you away, and you would never have to look at this horrid woman again.

“Hmm, if anything, your being pregnant shows how fertile you are. It won’t be long before you are able to supply me with a whole new host of grandchildren!”

You grimace at the way the emperor so casually says this, as you were nothing but a broodmare to be used to make her family bigger. You clutch Sukuna tighter against your chest, pulling comfort from the way his claws dig into your flesh. The pain clears your head, and you ignore Big Mom as best you can as she rants and raves about how beautiful her grandchildren will be once she has them.

Finally, Katakuri seems to take pity on you and speaks up, his voice deep and muffled from behind his scarf, “I think she understands why she is here, mother. Let me take her to our rooms.”

Big Mom lets out a massive sigh, rolling her eyes before she makes a shoo motion, “Oh fine, then. Take away my fun.”

Katakuri grumbles something unintelligible and then stomps over to you. You crane your neck, hearing it pop as you look up at him. You meet his eyes, and then he crouches down, and you come face to face with him.

He is handsome up close, the edges of his mouth broken up by what looks like stitches, but his voice is soft when he speaks, “You have little legs. I will carry you if you wish?”

You lick your lips and shrug. If it would get you away from Big Mom quicker, then you weren't about to say no.

“Please?”

You watch him set his hand down, palm up, and carefully, you turn around and sit down, keeping Sukuna tucked close to your chest. His palm is big enough that Hank can climb up with you, though most of his shaggy body spills into your lap. You hang on tight to his sleeve when Katakuri stands and begins to leave the obvious throne room behind.

You try your best to memorize the twists and turns of the castle, but it proves impossible for you with how the inside dips and curves do not make any sense to your brain. Katakuri is silent all the way up until he makes it to his room, and he is careful as he sits you back down on the floor.

The two of you stare at one another, at a loss of words, until his voice fills the room, “You were to be my wife, but your parents denied my mother.”

You frown. That didn't sound correct. As much as Mihawk and Shanks had broken your trust, after that first call with the warlord after you had sent them away, you still felt like you could believe them. Mihawk had explained everything that he knew about the destruction of your home. He would not have omitted any details to you unless he truly did not know about them. Your chest aches, and you have to force the urge to burst into tears just thinking about the two men. You missed them so much. You wanted them here to steal you back and to get you and your baby to safety. You tune back in when the giant of a man keeps talking.

“Maybe you would have been happy with me if your parents had not disrespected my mother, but I can't see that you will never be happy here. Not when you have someone that you already love.”

You look at Katakuri in surprise, brows raised as your curl your free arm around your stomach. Hank, who had been silent other than his occasional growling at the men and woman who had escorted you to Big Mom, suddenly sat up, the big lug loping forward to sit in front of you, his tongue lolling out as he began to pant. You stare at him, brow pinched in thought. The dog has always been an excellent judge of character, and it makes you think that maybe Katakuri might be someone you can trust.

“I do, and they will be looking for me,” you tell him, and Katakuri nods like he already knows this.

And he did. The fourth son of Big Mom had done his research after Wiseman had made it known that you had been found. He had told his mother to leave you be, that they had already decimated your island, killed your family and subjects. The only ones left of the Nammu Isles were you and your brother, so it's not like either of you had much to offer the Charlotte family.

Unfortunately, she had scoffed and raved at him, rolling her eyes and stuffing her face, declaring that neither of you was useless. The Nammu Isles were known for their beauty, the string of islands, and the people who lived there. To be married into any of the families was to be considered an honor, for your children would retain the beauty that their parents harbored.

Katakuri had grumbled and backed down, not having wanted to argue with his mother, but seeing you now, belly swollen with child, and your eyes looking at him like you knew things that he didn't, made him think that his mother had bitten off more than she could chew.

He already knew that your lover was Red-Haired Shanks, one of the other four emperors of the sea. Katakuri had not thought it wise for his family to go steal you away from your home, but there was little he could do or say once his mother had an idea in her head. It is then that your words properly register in his mind, and he looks at you, tilting his head to the side.

“They?”

The temperature in the room drops several degrees, and he watches this tiny slip of a woman look at him in pity, but there is a mean grin that paints her lips.

“Yes, they,” you murmur, and Sukuna turns, glaring at Katakuri with oddly familiar golden eyes, “Red-Haired Shanks, and the warlord. Dracule Mihawk.”

-----

Mihawk and Perona sail straight to the New World. They arrive in half the time it would have usually taken, the ocean seeming to be on their side and aiding them in getting the two of them there swiftly. The warlord feels broken, his heart aching from the pain of having you taken and the knowledge that it was Shasks at fault.

He should have known that the redhead would never be able to keep his damn mouth shut. He never should have trusted him with you. Dracule should have demanded that Shanks leave you and your island alone, to never return even if it would have made you upset.

Maybe then Mihawk would have never felt compelled to tell you about his involvement. Maybe then you would have never sent him away in the first place, and none of this would have ever happened. He grits his teeth, rage flooding his chest only to be swiftly discarded into grief and disappointment. The warlord had trusted the other man, had opened up his heart, and told Shanks that he loved him not a week after Benn had rushed to them to tell them about you being abducted.

Shanks looks at him with wide eyes, standing before Mihawk after the warlord had hung up the transponder snail. The redhead swallowed harshly, the drunken stupor clearing from his eyes as he licked his lips.

“You... Did you really mean it?”

Mihawk opens his arms for the redhead, and Shanks falls into his chest. He wraps his arms around the younger man, lips pressing against his brow.

“I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it, Red.”

Mihawk forces the memory away, bowing forward to rest his elbows on the desk inside the ship and hold his face in his hands. Everything had been going so well for the three of you, and in the span of a month, it had all gone to absolutely shit.

They hadn't even gotten the chance to come and see you before the Big Mom pirates had shown up. Had been waiting for your call so that you could tell them that you were ready for them to come back home, to the island, to Hank and the other animals, to you.

Fuck. How had things gone so bad so quickly? Mihawk knew that the blame truly lay on both of them. Him for keeping your past from you, and Shanks for not knowing when to keep his big mouth shut for once. Dracule still feels so angry, so betrayed that the other man had given you a drunken accident or not. How was he ever supposed to forgive Shanks for this? How were they supposed to go back to how things were?

That's not even considering your brother. Tomura would be a problem in the future when they get you back. Your brother would never let Mihawk have you alone ever again, especially once he figures out that you are pregnant with their child.

“You know, if you had listened to me in the beginning, this probably wouldn't have happened.”

Mihawk sighs heavily at the sound of Perona's voice. He looks up to see her leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, and a scowl on her face. He feels bad enough over Shanks and his own blunder. He doesn't need the reminder.

“_ would still be on her island, and her home wouldn't have been destroyed. You didn't even go see her home with Shanks, Mihawk. I know you're mad at him, but it would have been the least you could do. He's just as upset she is gone as you are.”

Mihawk glares at her, hands clenching as he drops them to the table and shoves himself up, a snarl on his lips, “This wouldn't have happened if Shanks knew how to be responsible for once.”

Perona rolls her eyes, lips pursing, “Do you know how many times I've almost slipped up? How could Shanks have known that someone would recognize her name? It's not like he went around to every island on the Grand Line asking people if they knew who she was.”

He grits his teeth. Mihawk had already thought about that, but it was easier for him to blame Shanks for this than to completely blame himself, no matter how unfair it was.

“He's a fool,” Mihawk grumbles, and despite how much he wants to hang on, to cling onto that anger, the warlord begins to feel himself start to deflate. It used to be easy to cling to those feelings of negativity, but after the past months, with having Shanks back so close, and with you there to temper any hurt feelings, it was hard to stay upset.

Because at the end of the day, Mihawk still loved the redhead, even if Shanks had broken his promise. He hears Perona snort and stride across the deck, dropping into the chair across from him.

“A love-sick fool who needed you,” she grumbles, and Mihawk sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose and giving her a look under the brim of his hat.

“You don't have to remind me, ghost girl, but the faster we get to Big Mom’s territory, the faster we can get _ back.”

Perona sighs and stands from her chair, rounding the desk and pulling her father figure in for a hug. Surprisingly, Mihawk doesn’t fight against her, so Perona tightens her hold, keeping her voice sure, “You’ll get her back. I know you will.”

-----

Shanks stares at the ruins of his home, heart in his throat, and hand clenched against his chest. So many memories, all gone with just a few words that came from his dumb mouth. Benn stands behind him, a silent pillar of support that the redhead appreciates. He clenches his eyes shut, teeth grit before he opens them up, and forces himself to step toward his home.

He is halfway up the path when a furry body blocks his way, and Shanks can't help but feel a shot of relief when Neal bleats at him, those beady eyes looking at him with recognition, and Shanks carefully reaches out, hoping to not get bit by the goat. Surprisingly, Neal butts his head forward and allows the redhead to pet him for a second before he grumbles and stalks off to his ruined pen where he stomps at the ground. He shakes his head and follows after the goat, frowning down at the foot imprints that dot your front yard.

He takes in your ruined gardens, heard breaking all over again when he looks at the destruction. You would be devastated to see this. All of your hard work from over the years gone in an instant. Shanks forces down that guilt that eats away at him and focuses instead on the rage that had begun to slowly simmer in his gut. Emperor or not, the second that Big Mom had heard that he was your lover, the woman should have dropped any kind of plans she had for you.

Shanks and his crew had held off Kaido from joining the battle at Marineford and won. It pissed him right the hell off that Big Mom thought that she could send out her family and drag you back to Whole Cake without thinking that Shanks wouldn't do anything about it.

Did the woman think that you were just some run-of-the-mill woman that he would drop within a couple of days? Well, if so. Charlotte had another thing coming. Shanks has to fight down his haki, lest it unravel, and send what remained of his home crashing down. He sucked in a deep breath, face set in a terrifying scowl as he walked through the open door.

Shanks pushes the door open, a grin on his face, “Oh honey, I'm home!”

He can hear you leave the kitchen, arm open just in time for you to slam into his chest, and a wide grin on your face as you stare up at him. Shanks laughs jovial, matching your grin as he tightens his grip around your waist and lifts you up, spinning you around in a circle.

“Welcome back, love,” you greet him, and Shanks will never tire of hearing you call him that. He dips and presses his lips to your own. The kiss chaste but full of affection, “How was your trip?”

He walks past the living room, trailing his hand over the blackened wood as the rage builds and builds inside of him until Shanks feels like he might explode. He eases through the kitchen and looks down when his foot kicks something. He bends, picking up the warped bowl, the name Hank lovingly painted on the side of it. Carefully, he puts it back down and moves on.

There is hardly anything that is salvageable, but Shanks would make damn sure that he would store away and preserve anything that he found. You deserved that much. The books and record player that Mihawk had given you are melted. The maps along the far wall of the living room are nothing but ash that now coats everything in the room.

Shanks stops just outside the bedroom, heart in his throat before he pushes the door open and walks inside. This room, since the door was shut, had been preserved much better than the rest of your home. He looks at your bed and swallows dryly when he sees that it is covered in an assortment of his and Mihawk's clothing. He wonders how large you've grown in the time the three of you have been separated. You must have started to wear their clothes the larger your belly became, and the mental image of his shirt streatching over your stomach makes a heat pool unbidden in his gut.

But he shoves the feeling away for now. There would be time for that later, once Shanks was able to piece his family back together. With a sigh, he sits on the bed, bending at the waist and holding his face in his hand. He pushes past the anguish that wants to choke him and makes himself think.

He would sail straight to Whole Cake, and if Big Mom and her family did not give you back to him, then he would destroy them. There was a reason why no one could unseat him from his emperor status. Red-Haired Shanks and his crew were not ones to cross, so he would show the other emperor what it meant to cross him. He could only hope that you would be okay until he got there, and if you weren’t? The entire world would feel his fury.

With that decision cemented in his mind, Shanks stands from the bed, then scoops to grab your favorite shirt that he knows came from him. He would dress you in his clothes once more when he got you back, would find you before Mihawk could, and present you to the warlord and beg both of you for forgiveness. Shanks was not one to give up, so he would grovel and plead at your feet until you gave in.

Shanks takes one last look around before he leaves the house, meeting Benn back outside where he is watching Neal. His first mate looks up at him when Shanks steps to his side, “Ready to go?”

The redhead nods, lips tugging into a frown when he spots the goat and the three chickens that mill around his hooves, “He’s not going to like it, but we aren’t leaving him here.”

Benn huffs a laugh, “Come on, I’ll help you wrestle him on board.”

-----

Tomura sets sail not long after Mihawk leaves the island. He isn't about to wait around for the redhead, and thankfully, they've not been here long enough for many of his crew to disembark. He gathers the ones who followed him on shore up and orders them to meet him on board, barking commands to get them underway and back to the New World. They would take the same route as last time and hopefully catch up to the warlord before he made it to Whole Cake.

It still pisses him off that the two men had found your island, but it's not like Tomura had been there to stop them. You probably trusted the other men more than you would ever trust him, your own brother, and the thought fills him with guilt.

He had been the one to leave you behind, after all. Maybe if he had stayed with you, had been the big brother that you had always admired and loved, then none of this would have happened. He sighs and runs a hand through his white hair, his brow pulled tight in a scowl. There was no point in thinking about what-ifs, however. Tomura had lost his chance to see you grow up and get to know you when he left you here, but he would help save you, and he would know his little sister again.

The navy would be pissed that he was going off orders, but he didn’t care. Delemur had joined the military to keep himself safe, away from Big Mom and her hoard of children. But he would take on the emperor herself if that was what it took to get you away from them, you were the most important thing to Tomura, and he wouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of that.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom @mfreedomstuff @caniseethefourthsword @olenoname

[arixella]

You get hurt and don't tell them pt.3 ' ft. shanks, kid, killer

wc: 355 requested 😋 luffy, zoro, sanji law, ace, sabo

Shanks

-Shanks notices something’s off almost immediately—he’s surprisingly sharp when it comes to you.

“Oi, what’s this? You’re hurt?” His tone is lighthearted, but there’s genuine concern in his eyes as he inspects you.

-He chuckles and ruffles your hair. “You thought you could hide this from me? Come on, don’t you trust me?”

-Shanks takes a laid-back approach, gently tending to your injury while cracking jokes to keep you smiling. “You know, you’re lucky I’ve got steady hands for this. Imagine if I was drinking.” (He definitely was drinking.)

-Afterward, he pulls you into a warm hug, wrapping you in his coat as if to shield you from the world. “Next time, just tell me, alright? I can’t have you getting hurt on my watch.”

-If the injury was caused by someone else, Shanks’ smile turns razor-sharp, and you know he’ll be having a “talk” with them.

-Later, he keeps you close, pouring you a drink (or some tea if you’re not feeling up to it) and teasing you to lighten the mood.

“You’ve got to look after yourself better. Who else is going to keep me entertained, huh?” His words are playful, but the way he lingers by your side shows how much he genuinely cares.

-You might catch him glancing at you more often than usual, as if making sure you’re really okay. But, in true Shanks fashion, he plays it cool—effortlessly balancing concern with his carefree charm.

Eustass Kid

-Kid finds out you’re hurt, and let’s just say he’s not happy about it. “The hell? Why didn’t you say anything?!”

-He’s rough around the edges, so his frustration comes out in angry words, but it’s clear he’s worried.

-He’s surprisingly gentle when he checks your injury, muttering things like, “Idiot… You could’ve made it worse.”

-If someone else caused your injury, Kid is ready to hunt them down immediately—he doesn’t let anyone mess with what’s his.

-After cooling off, he sits beside you with a gruff, “Don’t hide stuff like this again. I mean it.” His tone softens just enough to show he cares.

Killer

-Killer is the silent but observant type, so he notices your injury even if you try to hide it.

“You’re hurt,” he states plainly, no room for argument. He’s calm but firm as he insists on treating you.

-His movements are careful and precise, and though he doesn’t say much, his actions speak volumes about how much he cares.

-Killer’s worry is subtle, but you can hear it in his voice when he says, “You need to be more careful.”

-Later, he sits with you in comfortable silence, keeping you close and making sure you know he’s there if you need him.

♡♡♡

[dreamlandcreations]

There are many roads to piracy. Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

I love the opening. The second part was also great but this? This got my attention right from the start.

That's such a unique concept and so well done to set it up in just two sentences. Love it

You have a job to do and frankly can’t be assed to even feign interest, not that you put much effort into the pretense since your first introduction.

Honestly? Same, girl. No life of the party here, nope

Shanks called for this particular event because it’s a day ending in y.

That is so in character (not that I know much outside of the live action and what the wiki page tells me but yeah).

The exposure to the crew’s merry making itches under your skin like sun blisters.

Man, that so poetically says that I'd rather tear my skin off than be there 😅

You’re a leap and a bound above a coddled passenger but so removed from the functional hierarchy you don’t even have a title. Except. Well. There was always… “Nerd!”

Aww, that's sad. Sad sad Reader should get a lot of Shanks affection. Doctor's orders!

Reader on the inside after Shanks starts to crack the Great Wall/Helm's Deep-sized wall our Nerd has built around her 👇

“Captain says you have to have a drink when you’re done.”

Awwwwwwwwwww he wants her involved and to get some fun. That's cute

“I swear the books get worse every time I come back.” It’s lighthearted, but also too fucking true. “I’ll be working late.”

Sooooooo grumpy

“This was all we had left.” “I’ve seen the inventory. There’s plenty for the next week of travel, even if the crew gets shit-faced twice a day.” Benn shrugs. “It was all that was left on deck.”

Lol. What's the equivalent of slut-shaming for drunkards? The sass. OMG the sass, the banter... I can't

You can’t go to bed. There is no bed. Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

I can see it, dammit, I can picture it so vividly, it's insane how right that little moment feels. Oh, that fucker, this needs revenge!

Honestly speaking, you’re too old for this shit.

MOOOOOOOOOOD!!!

Why are you a pirate? Why are you here? Your life was so slow and orderly before a big grin and a thatch of red hair flipped it on its head. Did you ever actually agree to this life, or did you just fail to argue with the plan? That must be the problem. If you never learn to say no, whatever comes is your fault. But if you learn to say no, you’ll have to learn to say yes, too. That might be worse.

The inner monologue! The little bits of flashbacky info drops! It's so well paced! (I was just (trying to) read a book where it was so awkwardly done that it brings so much more contrast to how ) it seems so effortlessly in flow with the story without breaking the moment 🥺 🖤

You almost turned him down. You tried, actually. But he insisted you at least hear his captain out, face to face.

THAT, is just EVIL!!!! HE KNEW! HE FUCKING KNEW THAT YOU CAN'T SAY NO TO THAT!!!!!

And then Shanks smiled, and it was all over.

Yeppppp. That check's out. I mean lookit, it's freaking infectious 🫠

Of course, Benn can’t let you mope in peace. “What’s eating ya?” “Mosquitoes, maybe.”

Booze makes you think. Then it makes you speak. Then it makes you sleep.

.... so that's why they (he) want to get her to drink????? *nonexistent narrowed eyed suspicious emoji*🤯

..... And if you hold your rum so well, why don’t you have another with us?” “I did my duty. I just want to sleep.” Shanks tsks...

Little shit...both of them actually. LOVE THEM

“Are you going to nip at me like a sheepdog until I do? Come on, you’re awake. Have another drink.” The insistence is inching towards an order.... Maybe he really did plan this. Maybe Shanks did. Maybe the rats are in this together... Fresh bottles have appeared on the table as if by magic, and you pull your discarded tankard over, resigned to your fate. It’s already been refilled.

Groaning, swearing, and taking your precious time, you stretch and inch away from the haze of sleep. You spare a filthy look for Beckman as you clamber onto a chair, because you can easily reason your way into this being his fault. The bastard smirks around his cigarette.

Such a grumpy drama queen 🤭

It’s…companionable. If it was always like this, maybe you could set your roots in the Red Force’s planks. Trust it to be a home.

Yes, girl, you are almost there!

Shanks is deep in his thoughts, famous red hair drifting in the breeze. As he quietly enjoys his sake, you glare. “Do you realize how frustrating you are?” His cup pauses against his lips. His eyebrows leap up. “Eh?”

No comment, I just wanted a visual here 🙈

“It’s so frustrating. You have no idea what’s like being weaker than someone you love.”

Damn, I'd die on the spot

“I am drunk, and I refuse to face the consequences of my actions.”

Paper Pirates

MDNI

An unconventional member of an unconventional crew, you find yourself wrestling with frustrations out of your league

Shanks x f!reader (more relevant in part 2)

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

There are many roads to piracy.

Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

Sailors fly the jolly roger for adventure, for freedom, for greed. Sweet or savage, pirates turn to the sea for a thrilling life away from responsibility. Not for double-entry accounting.

It should be all swords and swashbuckling, especially on a yonko’s flagship. Music and tuneless singing have steeped in the ship’s hull along with sea brine and rum, staining the Red Force with a mighty reputation.

And yet. Here you sit: ink-stained fingers, spectacles, and all.

The financial charts, ledgers, and reports from across the Emperor’s territory make a compelling excuse to skip the evening’s celebrations. Light from the overhead lantern trembles with the rhythmic force of a dozen idiots dancing – or fighting – on deck. You have a job to do and frankly can’t be assed to even feign interest, not that you put much effort into the pretense since your first introduction.

Shanks called for this particular event because it’s a day ending in y. No one has cannons aimed at the Red Force, and there’s no pressing need for sobriety. Standard practice, really.

The exposure to the crew’s merry making itches under your skin like sun blisters. You’ll burn if you get too much, but it’s an unavoidable hazard at sea.

Even if you’re only half-crew.

You’re a leap and a bound above a coddled passenger but so removed from the functional hierarchy you don’t even have a title.

Except. Well. There was always…

“Nerd!”

You drag your eyes away from ledger lines and decimals to blink at Yasopp. The sniper is drunk and enjoying himself. And pointing at you.

“Captain says you have to have a drink when you’re done.”

One finger curls over a notebook’s cover, and you contemplate how many more hours of work you can eek out before you’re too tired for responsible accounting.

“I swear the books get worse every time I come back.” It’s lighthearted, but also too fucking true. “I’ll be working late.”

Yasopp shakes his head. Grins. “Orders.”

Your eyes roll away from the pirate and back to the mathematic wreck on the desk. “Whatever. Just leave me something and I’ll lift a glass to your unconscious ass before I sleep.”

Cackling, Yasopp ferries your answer back to the party, and you work the puzzle of knotted equations until the lantern stops swinging and the racket falls silent. Pirates not on watch stumble through the corridors on their way to their bunks, slurring and laughing on the other side of the wall. Even that goes quiet eventually.

Your eyes burn from focusing too hard to blink for minutes on end, and you decide it’s safe to stop for the night. Off come the glasses, neatly folded and tucked into a desk drawer. They’ll be safer there than on your person, and you only need them for reading fine print. You didn’t used to. Not when you started. But that’s true of a lot of things.

With joints that creak like the steps you ascend, you head up on deck. Bodies of the fallen sleep under a blanket of stars – the ones who drank themselves to sleep or refused to leave the party before waking in the morning. The few on watch peer down from crow’s nests or attend minor chores around their comrades’ spread limbs and upturned bellies.

Yellow lights contrast with the velvet black-blue stitching together endless sea and sky, and you can’t help relaxing just a little as you approach the one table with a conscious crewman. The cherry of his cigarette burns bright, and smoke curls into the breeze.

“Benn.”

He nods, mumbling your name. As you sit, he slides a large tankard to your side of the table.

It doesn’t look like wine. Doesn’t smell like beer. It’s the wrong color for sake. “It’s rum, isn’t it?”

“Didn’t send Yasopp with a preference,” the first mate says. The telling glint in his eye betrays his good humor. “This was all we had left.”

“I’ve seen the inventory. There’s plenty for the next week of travel, even if the crew gets shit-faced twice a day.”

Benn shrugs. “It was all that was left on deck.”

You doubt it, even if it’s more plausible, but there’s no point arguing. Time to finish the last task of the day.

Lifting the heavy cup, you tilt your head back and chug.

“Steady.” Benn watches with his arms crossed.

You drink rather than answer. Swallowing fire, you drain half of what was left for you.

“I’m tired,” you say when you stop to breathe, “and I want to go to bed.”

Bed is a hammock in the groaning belly of the ship. Surrounded by other hammocks. Full of pirates. Who snore. Loudly. A night of drinking never helps the volume, but maybe your share will help you black out.

“If I drink fast enough, I’ll be asleep before it hits and it won’t matter.”

“If you say so.”

He’s very good at letting people make their own mistakes. You’ve watched him to it. But this isn’t the first time you’ve rushed through liquid social obligations on your way to rest. He doesn’t know you as well as he thinks, you’re sure.

The second half of the rum goes down like the first, and you aren’t even tipsy as you take your leave and head below. It’s a good plan. Maybe it would’ve worked, too, if it weren’t for the chaos you find in your assigned quarters.

While the little study always holds records, you aren’t aboard often enough to have a dedicated sleeping space. No cabin. Not even a bunk. Just a hammock in the hold with the lower ranks. You left your small trunk by one near the door, and you’d slept there for the past five nights running without issue.

Until now.

There must’ve been a brawl, or one of the bigger men misjudged his approach under the influence, because a wad of ripped and tangled hammocks sits piled in the center of the room. All the remaining options, including your unofficially claimed space, are full.

You can’t go to bed.

There is no bed.

Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

Sooner or later, the rum will hit, and you know better than to wait for it on your feet. So, you pick a place by Benn’s table and settle with your ass on the deck and your back against a wall.

Technically speaking, you’ve slept in worse places.

Realistically speaking, you usually sleep in better.

Honestly speaking, you’re too old for this shit.

This is the consequence of your actions. Today it’s glasses and rum. Tomorrow it will be a sore head and an aching tailbone. The day after it will probably be a cannonball to the face. No matter how lackadaisical the crew behaves, they’re all pirates at the end of the day, and so are you.

Why are you a pirate? Why are you here? Your life was so slow and orderly before a big grin and a thatch of red hair flipped it on its head. Did you ever actually agree to this life, or did you just fail to argue with the plan? That must be the problem. If you never learn to say no, whatever comes is your fault. But if you learn to say no, you’ll have to learn to say yes, too. That might be worse.

Of course, Benn can’t let you mope in peace.

“What’s eating ya?”

“Mosquitoes, maybe.”

“Nah.” He stubs out the butt of his cigarette and reaches for the pack. “Been off since your last sabbatical. Longer, if we’re being honest, but it really has its teeth in you now.”

“Nothing.” Gods. You sound like a teenager.

He hums, lights up a fresh smoke, and leaves it alone.

You can’t even explain why you’re in a bad mood. It’s just vibes. A feeling that makes sense until you try caging it in words.

You’ve been part of Shank’s entourage for years now, and you’ve seen the impact of his influence.

He makes things better. Things grow under his care.

That’s good. That’s great. That’s better than most folks in the New World ever expect to find in their lifetimes. But somehow it doesn’t apply to you.

You let your head fall back against the wall. The hollow thunk sounds as empty as you wish you could make your skull.

People drink to forget, or so some sad, broken soul tells you in every bar in every port you’ve ever visited. It’s a neat trick you never learned, though. Booze makes you think. Then it makes you speak. Then it makes you sleep.

It doesn’t make you the party girl the Red-Haired Pirates clearly hoped for the first time they dragged you into a night of carousing. It didn’t help your on-again off-again crewmate status. No one besides a handful of the most seasoned officers knew how to speak to you, and you could count those on one hand.

If you could bring yourself to care less about what you did, you would’ve flipped everyone the bird ages ago, refused to board the Red Force after one of your little layovers and made a home somewhere.

But you can’t, and you don’t, and the alcohol fumes up from belly to brain with old memories.

Once upon a time you bumped into a grey-haired man at the dock. His hands were full of loose papers and notebooks. When they clattered to the ground, you immediately helped pick them up, because that was just good manners. As you gathered the pages, you saw the numbers, and your brain leapt ahead of your mouth, so as you handed the collection back to Shank’s first mate, you blithely mentioned, “You have some transportation and duplication errors in the top account that are throwing off your totals.”

And, low and behold, the next day the first mate – one Benn Beckman – tracked you down and discussed working for one of the most powerful people in the Grand Line.

You almost turned him down. You tried, actually. But he insisted you at least hear his captain out, face to face. And then Shanks smiled, and it was all over.

They gave you a strange job.

Emperors reigned in their own ways. Force and threats were standard, but Shanks followed no rules. He governed without actually doing anything, relying on booty stolen at sea and the generosity of thriving island economies to maintain his ship and crew. At least it looked that way from the outside. But the system relied on more than luck and good looks.

Your tasks follow a cycle. The Red Force drops you at an island, leaves you there, then picks you up a few (many) months later. When you’re aboard, you review and balance the ship’s books. When you’re on land, you do the real work. You record how things work on the island, or how they don’t, and you gather the numbers to prove it. Then Shanks and his commanders use your data to find the best ports for long stays, to spot unrest before it became insurrection, and to generally handle pirate business.

Honestly, you enjoy it. You never thought your uncanny skills with numbers could lead to so much travel, and you like island hopping. It’s nice to be special. It’s nice to be needed, even a little. It should be enough. You have more than most.

The itch in the back of your mind has been getting worse, though, especially as you start looping back to hubs you visited in your early days as a quasi-pirate.

Things have grown. People have put down roots. They flourish and offer good fruit in return.

But you haven’t found a way to grow into the Red-Hair Pirates the way other people settle into their lives. Your roots grasp at salt water.

At the start of this adventure, years ago, you let the tide wash you out to sea. It’s no one’s fault but yours, and that doesn’t make you feel any better, so you self-isolate and avoid what you can’t explain.

Pirates aren’t big on feelings talk.

And you’re at least half a pirate.

“Eh, nerd still can’t hold her rum?”

Apparently, Shanks hasn’t surrendered to tomorrow’s hangover yet.

You huff as Benn’s chuckle rumbles over you. Without opening your eyes, which slipped closed at some point you can’t be fucked to remember, you say, “Nerd can hold her rum. Nerd’s hammock was a casualty of war.”

“Ah.” A chair creaks as the captain joins Beckman’s table. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t stay out voluntarily. And if you hold your rum so well, why don’t you have another with us?”

“I did my duty. I just want to sleep.”

Shanks tsks, and you finally crack an eye open. He’s taken the chair closest to your spot on the floor. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” You knock your boot against his bare ankle, frowning. “You should take better care of yourself.”

“Are you going to nip at me like a sheepdog until I do? Come on, you’re awake. Have another drink.”

The insistence is inching towards an order. While the Red Hair Pirates have never followed conventional standards of respect, when Shanks tells you to do something, you listen.

Groaning, swearing, and taking your precious time, you stretch and inch away from the haze of sleep. You spare a filthy look for Beckman as you clamber onto a chair, because you can easily reason your way into this being his fault. The bastard smirks around his cigarette.

Maybe he really did plan this. Maybe Shanks did. Maybe the rats are in this together. Fuck knows what “this” is, but you’re sailing through Tipsy on the way to Drunk, and clearly there are plans in motion to blow you to the far shores of Hammered.

Fresh bottles have appeared on the table as if by magic, and you pull your discarded tankard over, resigned to your fate. It’s already been refilled.

You drink. So does Shanks. Beckman enjoys his smoke.

It’s…companionable. If it was always like this, maybe you could set your roots in the Red Force’s planks. Trust it to be a home.

But you’ll be ashore again in a few days, and if you let yourself grow into the crew, you’ll tear yourself apart when they leave.

And if they never come back?

Even a Yonko can die. And Shanks is changeable. One day they may not come back for you.

Did you eat dinner? The rum glows warm in your blood.

You find yourself ready to forgive Beckman. For… whatever. He was responsible. He was never the problem.

Shanks is deep in his thoughts, famous red hair drifting in the breeze. As he quietly enjoys his sake, you glare.

“Do you realize how frustrating you are?”

His cup pauses against his lips. His eyebrows leap up. “Eh?”

Yes. This is what you’ve been wrestling with it. He’s the problem.

“You’re the strongest.” You gesture as you speak, and rum splashes out, burning the cracked skin over your knuckles. “No one else can take care of you, so you better take care of yourself.”

Another kick. You aim for your captain’s ankle again, but you hit his shin. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you could hurt him if you tried. While you aren’t the weakest aboard the Red Force, you’re pretty damn far from the strongest.

Shanks whines anyway, and Beckman’s dry laugh sounds like old leaves rattling in the wind.

“Seriously.” You empty your cup. That gives the truth time to percolate. There’s no helping it now. You’re smashed, and your dignity has flown. Your fist props up your drooping head as tangled thoughts spin out into thread.

“It’s so frustrating. You have no idea what’s like being weaker than someone you love.”

The immediate silence takes a minute to catch up with you. The rum has floated you beyond a standard perception of time, and your head is too loud to notice everything outside hasn’t kept up.

You frown.

You think.

And you realize.

In that moment, you aren’t a ship. There is no chair, table, or lantern to keep you steady. You’re floating in the black abyss, and you know without seeing that a sea king is circling for the kill. There’s no air. Or light. Or distraction. Just terrible, dreadful awareness.

Oh, gods.

Stars, seas, and sabers. Fucking hells and all the horrors below.

You love Shanks.

It’s the stupidest thing in the world, and it makes perfect sense.

You just informed on yourself. To yourself. And possibly to the two men eyeing you, but there’s grace in nebulous phrasing, and no one should be taken too seriously after so much rum.

You leap to your feet and point straight between the captain’s eyes.

“I am drunk, and I refuse to face the consequences of my actions.”

Shanks just blinks at you, and Beckman keeps his thoughts to himself as you back away, trip over your chair, and stagger back down to the study. You hold your head so high you can’t see your feet, and you earn a dozen nicks and bruises on your way.

You sleep in the corner with your jacket as a blanket, and in the morning, you tell yourself nothing happened at all.

[rea-grimm]

Ghost Shanks

You've been a part of the Red Force for many years, and you've also been on a mission that Shanks put you on for quite some time. But now, after almost a year, you were done and coming back. You couldn't wait to see the rest of the crew again, especially the captain. 

But you had no idea what had happened in the year you'd been away. When you finally said hello to the crew, they began to celebrate in your honour that you were finally back in one piece.

In fact, you didn't even hear it from Shanks like you did from Benn. The captain gave you a hug and a kiss and was glad to see you had made it back successfully. There was no indication that anything had happened.

It wasn't until later, when Shanks was resting in the hammock with a hangover, that Benn sat down with you. There, he calmly explained everything you'd lost while you were gone. 

A lot happened while you were gone, but the most important thing was something you never expected. On another island, where almost no one lived except an old woman, the crew camped out. 

As always, they celebrated and enjoyed life. Most, however, kept to their side of the island. This was not the case for the captain, who had gotten too close to the old lady, who was in no mood for a drunk. 

It was the moment Benn took his eyes off him and it was actually Yasopp who alerted him to the captain's absence. He followed him, but before he could do anything the old lady got angry. 

She got angry and cursed the captain to be a ghost. When they went to see her again afterwards, she refused to lift the curse or tell them how to reverse it or if it would wear off on its own. However, some time has passed since that moment and so far no change. 

The next morning you confronted Shanks about it, but in a way that made him tell you himself what had happened. At first, he played dumb, but eventually he confessed. He didn't want to worry you. 

That was followed by a demonstration of how he could turn into a ghost. In that form, he was almost transparent and could walk through things. 

What you weren't expecting was the next thing, when he asked you without warning if he could possess you. He found out he could do it, but he didn't really try. You didn't agree, but when he laid his best puppy dog eyes on you, you couldn't say no. 

Benn listened to your conversation from afar, knowing full well that this had been the captain's wish for quite some time and he didn't want him to do anything stupid with you. For example, not to get unconscious with you or do something much worse. 

Shanks concentrated and in an instant his entire body became semi-transparent and he took a step towards you. He took your shoulder and smiled encouragingly at you before taking another step and disappearing into your body. 

As he passed through you, a certain tingle ran through your body. Afterwards, you felt like a guest in your own body. You heard Shanks' voice in your head, and then both of your hands went palms up. It looked like you were looking at both hands. 

He was especially looking at your left hand when his fingers closed into a fist and opened again. It felt strange to use both hands again. 

Ben moved closer to you and noticed that you now had a different colour in each eye. One was still your classic color and the other was the same color as Shanks had. 

He relaxed his arms a little more before he hugged you. It was strange to be hugging yourself while not controlling your own body. 

"I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do this," you heard his voice in your head. 

Your return was celebrated by Shanks for many days, but the last one he drank himself almost into a stupor. But he didn't go to sleep in his hammock. No, he didn't. He used his curse to disappear like a ghost into your body.

The worst part of this possession was that you now felt as drunk as he did. You had a lot of work to do to get to his hammock and climb in. In your current state, it seemed like an almost impossible task. 

You woke up in the morning with a headache and nausea. You cursed Shanks for it. Hongo gave you a hangover cure, and after coffee, you started to feel a little better. 

You were still mad at the captain, and the redhead was still sleeping in your body like it was nothing. Apparently, he had slept well since you felt nothing in you to indicate that he was awake and you got the impression that you had taken all the bad from his hangover. 

You settled down to breakfast and decided on a little revenge. You had all sorts of things prepared for breakfast and among them were blueberry muffins, which you particularly liked. Plus, you knew the ghost didn't like them. He didn't like anything with blueberries, and he especially didn't like this. 

You were eating your breakfast contentedly when you heard Shanks' cranky voice in your head. He looked like he was just waking up. But without saying good morning, he left your body and sat cranky across from you. 

"You did this to me on purpose," he growled and pouted like a little child. "Why did you have to have this?" He asked, wincing as if he could still taste the blueberries on his tongue. 

Before you could say anything in response, he moved closer to you, wrapped one arm around you and buried his head in your chest.

"Please don't do this to me again..." he muttered in a low voice that you had to strain to hear yourself. 

"Then next time don't do things like that. You deserved it," Benn interjected. 

"You too?" He turned to him and pouted even more. Then he buried his head in your lap again. You smiled slightly at that, as this moment was more reminiscent of the good old days than ever.

Shanks Masterlist

[bonesofapoet]

sea salt. shanks x you author's note : right so i picked up reading one piece again, rewatched the live action and was immediately reminded how much i lovvvvve his la counterpart and would also fall to my knees for him almost immediately <3 prompt : ingens aequor: the vast ocean word count : 517

The pirate Shanks knew he was many things. He just never thought he'd ever become such a fool. 

Night had fallen in a swell of graceless dancing and lazy smiles chasing away the hot, messy kiss of the hellfire sun. Moonlight floated up into the velvet sky to take its place, graceful in the way it lit up the world cast in shadows and secrets and the blooming, careless hope that only exists under the storybook drawings of stars.

It's just as cruel as it is ironic, that he finds you waiting for him under those exact same stars in that exact shade of twilight dreaming. Sand squishes under your feet as the tide rolls in, closer and closer to whisking you away before Shanks will ever get the chance.

He pauses, eyes roaming over your glowing silhouette all silver-kissed and divine. You sway a little among the embrace of salty, sparkling sea-spray, relishing the eerie calm in your heart before a storm comes to wash it all away.

And yet, Shanks remains rooted to his place in the sand, willing himself to commit this sight, this feeling, to memory: how peaceful you seem. How radiant, and even more enticing than maybe even the Grand Line itself.

Blasphemous fool.

He would trade it all, for one more day with you, yet he isn't and he won't, because he's still leading his crew so very far from your reach once the sun rises and turns the air into gold.

"You know you can't kiss me goodbye from over there, right?" your gaze turns from the enchantment of sea and sky to catch him staring, eyes gone wide and soft as he watches you, lovesick, longing, dreaming of a life he won't ever have.

The smile he shares with you doesn't reach his eyes, nor does it brighten them despite the strength of his will. His gaze falls to the sea, waves reflecting that magical silver sheen before its swallowed up in the never ending hunger of the deepening tide. It's a sight so familiar, he dreams of it often. Could describe the rush and roar of the water at the height of each unruly mood. The sea is his home, his mistress, his partner for life. Yet these last months - well. Shanks suspects it's you, who has grown to become something else entirely.

Because of this, he allows the sea to pull him closer to you, limned in celestial breath. A bargain takes shape in his mind; he vows to himself and the tide kissing his ankles upon every step further into this raging entity that always seems to drag him away and away and away.

He'll come back for you, to you. He knows the feel of his own devotion, and how the shape of it now resembles you. One day, when he's finished with the Grand Line, or when the Grand Line is finished with him, he'll return to this silver-kissed beach with its velvety sky and siren song pulling him helplessly, hopelessly, willingly -

Until he's here, once more, on his knees before you.

[tokoyamisstuff]

[kleftiko]

big men who love laying on your chest >>>

who just love to hear your heartbeat. and just want your arms cradled around them protectively.

who snuggle into your warmth like a cat despite their body completely encompassing yours. they just want to be held.

i love big babies <3

shanks, smoker, law, corazon (op) ushijima, sakusa, tsukishima, kageyama (hq) sanemi, uzui (kny) gojo, geto, choso (jjk)

[ryiju-muunie]

Your boyfriend who sleepily fondled your naked body as you both napped together on your bed, letting calloused fingers drag along skin. Who pulled his erection out of his pants to drag his head along your ass, pressing against your warmth to satiate his heat.

He was so lust drunk off your scent it was hard to grasp what he was doing until the pleasure started. Hips grinding against your behind, fingers gripping into your stomach, and legs entangling upon legs. It felt so good how you squirmed underneath him, none the wiser.

His calloused fingers dipped into your wetness, to play along your clit as your mouth opened. It felt so good right? As he ground his erection into your ass and whimpered, “F-Fuck.. you feel so good..”

Your boyfriend spread you apart and slowly let one digit get sucked into your cunt, rubbing against your walls until it hit that perfect spot. Again he abused it, getting closer to his high and pulling one orgasm out of your sleeping body. You whined and bucked your hips as you came, releasing your fluids onto his palm.

“Good girl… that’s it..” He’d coo, pulling his hand back to lick his fingers from your juices as his orgasm started to build. It was slow before it got intense, blinding him with white hot pleasure. He bucked his hips and for a second he was sure he woke you when his spend squirted all along your back. But he was pleasantly surprised to hear you stir and snore softly, drifting back to sleep.

Your boyfriend who’d deny the claims he fucked you senseless while you slept, even though the evidence was stuck to your back.

Strawpage | Bluesky

[tojiphile]

ONE PIECE LIVE ACTION MEN + DICK HEADCANONS & SIZES

a/n. i wrote this last night at 5am while sleep deprived so the further it gets the more wack it gets LOL

cw/tw. f!reader, rough sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, body hair, skinny penis, unprotected sex, for 18+ readers

MONKEY D. LUFFY

— 6.5” but thinks he’s average, so he doesn’t stretch it out with his abilities. not too girthy, but he makes up for it with his unrelenting stamina. it curves up against his stomach and leans left slightly. a little bit messy because he tried to shave it once and nicked himself, so he just settled with the hair. honey-toned towards the base and a deep red at the tip, especially when he’s raring to go.

— he wants to do it in every position, on every surface. he has you bent over the dinner table, one leg up and slamming into you mercilessly. he has you spread eagle in the bathtub, legs locked behind his back as he stuffs you full. it’s almost as if his dick is made for you, the curve perfectly abuses your g-spot as every orgasm overwhelms you, and you’re left a sobbing, babbling mess. he wants to know if he’s doing well, and he gets his answer when you chant “s— so, ah! good, fuck, d— don’t stop!” like a prayer.

RORONOA ZORO

— long, fat and heavy. he’s blessed with a stunning 7.3” length, though if anyone asks, he rounds down to make them feel more at ease. veiny. the mushroom tip is flushed purple, and it’s rests nicely on your tongue!! probably messy down there, he doesn’t see the point in shaving or trimming, but if you ask nicely, he’ll grunt, roll his eyes, and do it for you.

— you insisted that you didn’t need any prep, but as you straddled him, lining up your cunt with his cock, you soon realised your mistake. you have to spread yourself open, face scrunching up, and slowly sink down. he loves the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering as you start riding him. when your eyes flutter shut and your hips stutter, he takes control—holding you tight by the waist and fucking into you until you’re screaming.

SANJI VINSMOKE

— 6.4” and so so pretty. slender, with a pale shaft that leads into a rosy pink at the tip. it curves up and to the right. the carpet matches the drapes. he keeps it neat, though he probably doesn’t grow much hair anyway. he trims it once every few days, but he’ll never admit to it. smells the best AKA smells really clean, like soap.

— he goes crazy when you maintain eye contact and drop to your knees. you take his cock in hand, lifting it to run your tongue on the underside, tracing a prominent vein. you swirl your tongue around his sensitive head and his whole body is shaking, knees buckling as he chases that familiar high.

USUPP

— coming in at 5.8”, he makes up for it in his thick girth. when he jerks himself off, he can barely wrap his hand around it. he’s soooo sensitive that the wind can blow and he’s be hard. fat fat fat mushroom head that’s olive, golden-hued, and always oozing precum. heavy heavy balls. he might be clumsy and inexperienced, but his size alone is enough to make you drool. trims sometimes but only when he thinks he might get lucky.

— his hand grips your hair as you worship his cock, working magic with your mouth. as you jerk him off, you give small kitten licks to his leaking tip, tasting his salty precum. you whisper, “i want you” and before you know it, he has you pinned under him, rutting his thick cock into you desperately. his eyes are fixated on the way your cunt swallows him, and only strangled groans escape his lips.

BUGGY

— sorry buggy simps but he’s definitely a shower not a grower, though he still does comes in at a nice 6”! also, it’s ya boy, skinny penis. built like a tree branch but at least it’s really veiny, AND he knows how to talk you through it. so really, it might not be the most impressive but with his confidence when he’s fucking you? he’ll fuck you out and make you believe he’s 8” and 5”.

— he loves admiring your sopping cunt as it swallow him whole, your princess parts stretching to to accommodate his cock. he likes to fucks you. he presses you up against a window and fucks you from the back, choking you with his forearm and practically purrs, “taking me so well, ya dirty slut, fuckin’ cunt was made for my cock.”

SHANKS

— he doesn’t act like it buuuuuuut monster cock. it’s 7.8”, thick, and curved so much it slaps against his happy trail. let me tell you that when he sun tans, he does it naked. he lathers that horse cock up with sunblock and spreads eagle on the sand, hands behind his head, so he’s bronzed and beautiful. trims when he feels like it or if you ask, he doesn’t really think much about it.

— he doesn’t look like he’s putting in much effort when he fucks, barely breaking a sweat, but he has you writhing, hands gripping the sheets, eyes hazy and choking on your own spit. he knows what he’s doing to you. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in delicate circles making you cum over and over again until you’re absolutely wrecked. when he’s close, he picks up the pace, grunting heavily, hips stuttering as he spills his seed inside of you. when he pulls out, he takes the time to finger fuck his cum back into you, your body shaking as you work through the aftershock.

[taisiabelle]

Therapist: Oh, you definitely have daddy issues

Me: no, I don't

Also, me hours later realizing all my favorite fictional characters are older man....

[inquisitor-runa]

They walk in on you masturbating (pre relationship)

cont: swearing, suggestiveness, crack.

for you walking in on them, check here.

fem reader.

MINORS DNI

Includes Zoro, Law, Kid, Sanji, Crocodile, Ace and Shanks.

@mochiclouds, @redpool, @luffysinterlude, @trinitrinitrini, @theonlykawaiigod-blog, @shaanks , @guillotine-enjoyer, @commanderfreethatdust , @meritxellao , @love-marimo

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 33 - All Blends 4

Summary: Katakuri is smart and the boys start to make up

Pep Tea Masterlist-> HERE

Katakuri stares at you, and a bad feeling begins to creep up. You look so sure of yourself, so confident that the men you named would come for you, and he couldn’t help but silently agree. He had seen the destruction that Shanks and Mihawk could bring, and his mother had brought it to their home. If he were a good son, and he was, Katakuri would go straight to Big Mom and tell her what was coming, shore up their defenses to hide you away to never see the light of day again. 

But, he can’t. Katakuri has never had a good example of love, especially with his family. He knew that his mother had never loved any of her husbands the way you obviously loved these two men. It is obvious with the way that you speak their names, laced with soft affection and a sureness of knowing that they would come for you. He knows then, that for the sake of his own family, he would have to go behind his mother’s back and give you back to them. 

“My mother never should have taken you,” He murmurs, and you look up at him in quiet surprise. 

You hadn’t expected him to say something like that, and you shift your weight, arms tightening about Sukuna. The cat begins to purr, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the giant man. He did not like this one, though he was glad that the other humans had left and he and his brother were out of sight of the disgusting female who sat on the cloud. She had put a fear into the cat that he had never felt before, and it had made him angry. 

His brother seemed content in this one’s presence, however, and Sukuna had found that Hank was a much better judge of character than he was, so maybe this one wasn’t so bad. He much preferred the other human men, though, and he hoped that they would get here soon. 

“No, she shouldn’t have,” you agree, and then shift so that you can sit down on the floor. Your belly makes it hard, but your feet ached, and you are tired of standing. It’s not like you were going anywhere anytime soon, anyhow. You tilt your head, eyeing Katakuri and the contemplative expression that he wears, “So what are you going to do about it?” 

He grumbles quietly to himself, crossing his arms over his massive chest. His family didn’t deserve the fate that would await them if Shanks and Mihawk showed up. The two of them would wipe the Charlotte family off the face of the planet, and nothing that his family could do would be able to stop those powerhouses. His mother had made a grave mistake in taking you, so he would fix it. 

Katakuri turns away from you, and back to the door. He had noticed your pregnant belly, and was sure that you were hungry, “I’ll be right back.” 

You watch the giant of a man leave, lips pursed to the side. When he is gone, you drop the brave face you are wearing and bury your face in Sukuna’s fluffy fur. Hank whines and pushes against you, sliding his big head under your arm, so you pull him close too. You were happy that Wiseman had allowed you to keep them with you, and their presence made the situation better, but you wished that none of this had happened in the first place. 

Truthfully, you couldn’t even find it in you to be mad at your boys anymore. The day that you were taken, you had told yourself that morning that you would call Mihawk again and ask them to come back home. You had told yourself that while you would never forget what Mihawk had a hand in, you could forgive him. The destruction of your home island had been over twenty years ago, and Mihawk had been a different person then. It wasn’t fair to keep him away when he has done nothing but take care of you the past few years. 

You had an idea in mind that it had been Shanks who had given away your island, and while you were terrified of having been taken, you weren’t upset with him. Despite how perfect the two men seemed to be, you knew that they were still human, and humans would always make mistakes. And if you were being honest with yourself, the trip to Whole Cake would have been fun if your circumstances were different. 

You’d seen so much while out on the sea. You had refused to interact with any of the crew, but they had allowed you to wander the ship and stay out on deck every now and then. Sukuna and Hank had stayed by your side the entire time, your cat swiping at any member of the crew who came too close to them. The cooks, who after finding out that you were pregnant, had provided you with all sorts of new and interesting food, and had been helpful in informing you about the nutritional side of it, too. 

You had absorbed the information, wanting to know everything you could get your hands on to properly be prepared for your child and the eventual birth. As if knowing that you were talking about her, the baby kicks wildly, and you grunt at the feeling. You glare down at your stomach, cursing both Shanks and Mihawk for doing this to you. 

Of course, you knew that unprotected sex led to children, but like everything that had happened to you the past couple of years, you hadn’t expected it to happen. You should have, but every time you had given any thought to the possibility, you’d shoved the thought away, not wanting to acknowledge it. 

“I know sweetheart, I miss them, too,” you murmur and smooth your hand over your stomach, and your baby kicks again. You can’t help but laugh when Sukuna is slightly dislodged by the next hit, and the cat turns to glare down at your stomach.

“We’ll be back with them before you come into this world, I’ll make sure of it,” you tell her because you don’t know if you would be able to do this all by yourself. You would need both Mihawk and Shanks there to welcome her, just in case you happened to not make it. 

It’s a morbid thought, but one you can’t help but have on occasion. You know that childbirth is dangerous, and for all that you have read and listened to Mihawk read aloud to you and Shanks, you can’t help but feel unprepared, and the feeling terrifies you. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when the door of the room creaks open and you look up to see Katakuri coming back inside the room. In one hand there is a plate of food that smells so good it makes your mouth water, and your stomach roars in interest. In the other hand is a snail transponder. You watch in interest as he sets the plate near you, and you can’t help but lean closer to get a good look. 

“Eat your fill, and then we’re going to make a call,” Katakuri tells you, and you eyed him suspiciously. The feeling of tentative hope begins to bloom in your chest and you scoot closer to the plate, picking at what you know you like and handing off scraps to Hank and Sukuna. You watched in fondness as your kids scarfed down everything you gave them. You sat the fluff ball down after you were finished and stood with a wince, your back protesting the movement. 

Katakuri sits across from you, and you can’t help but feel amused when you see the massive man sitting criss-cross, his hands resting on his knees while he watches you behind that scarf of his.    

“Done?” He asks, and when you nod, you get to witness just why his mouth curves up like it does. He pulls the scarf down, opens his mouth wide, and dumps the rest of what is left on the plate down his gullet. You watch wide-eyed as he chews a couple of times and then swallows. He shrugs when he sees you watching him, a blush staining his cheeks that you can’t help but giggle at. 

“Are all of your family named after food?” you ask him, and Katakuri dips his head in a nod, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, our mother has a fondness for it,” He grumbles and eyes your stomach when you waddle around, arms stretched high over your head to try and relieve some tension in your back, “Have you thought of a name?” 

The question stalls you, and you drop your arms, looking down to stare at your pregnant belly. It’s a good question, and it makes an embarrassed flush light up your face. You’d been so busy wallowing the past few weeks without Mihawk or Shanks to keep you company, that other than focusing on your furry children, you never put much thought into a name for your actual child.

“...No.” 

Katakuri just shrugs, “Sometimes you don’t know until they are born. Mother makes it look easy.” 

You can’t help but snort. Of course, it would be easy for a woman like Big Mom, all she had to worry about was the possibility of repeating one of her many children’s names, “I’m sure that I will figure one out.” 

However, talking about this makes you miss your boys even more. It should be them that you were talking baby names about, not the son of the woman who kidnapped you. You swallow thickly and wrap your arms around yourself, smiling wetly down at Hank when the big lug crawls up to you with a low whine. Fuck. You miss them so much. 

Katakuri stares at the woman who was slated to be his wife and frowns, his decision to go behind his mother’s back cementing even further. He’d never wanted any children to begin with, he had plenty of siblings that he had helped his mother raise, so to him, it wasn’t that important for him to find a wife, never had been. Charlotte would be angry at him, but she would get over it. 

You jump when the transponder snail is sitting in front of you, and you look up at Katakuri in question. He gestures at it, “Call them.”

You turn wide eyes on Katakurti, heart in your throat, and voice nothing but a croak, “What?” 

Katakuri rolls his eyes and scoots the snail closer, repeating himself, “Call them.”

----

Perona jumps when the snail transponder begins to ring. They have been sailing for the better part of two weeks now, getting closer and closer to Big Mom and Whole Cake. She stares at it for several seconds before she jumps up and answers. 

Ca-lick. 

“Mihawk?” 

Perona’s throat goes dry, eyes going wide at the sound of your voice. 

“_!?” 

She hears you suck in a sharp breath, and when you speak again, it sounds choked like you were holding back tears. 

“Perona? Is he there?”

The pink-haired girl is already striding to the deck of the ship, snail clutched tightly in her hand, “I’m finding him now. Gods, are you okay? They’ve not hurt you have they?” 

She hears you sniff on the other side of the phone and then the sound of a yowling cat, Sukuna having heard the familiar voice of his second favorite human and letting her know how displeased her was.

“No, I’m okay. I’ve been with Katakuri the entire time, and he’s been nice so far. I can hear the ocean, where are you?”

Perona scoffs, skidding to a stop beside Mihawk, and holding the transponder snail out to him, “On our way to you, silly!” 

Mihawk whips around, hand snatching the snail out of her daughter’s hand and cradling it closer, ringed eyes taking in the basic features of your face that the snail forms, “Angel?” 

He hears you burst into tears on the other side of the call, and a fond smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Mihawk had missed the sound of your voice, even if it was thick with sobbing. 

“I’m here, please, please tell me that you are on the way. Is Shanks there?” 

Mihawk purses his lips, heart thruming with irritation at the redhead for half a second before he pushes it away, “No, dear one, he isn’t. We decided to travel apart to cover a large search area. How are you, both of you?” 

He listens to you sniff and cry for a second longer, and then your voice breaks through once more. 

“We’re both okay. Suku and Hank have kept me safe. Are you okay? You sound better than the last time we spoke.” 

Mihawk grimaces at the reminder. He and Shanks had been in a drunken stupor for days and were still under the influence when you had called the last time, “I’m fine, darling. You shouldn’t worry yourself, over me. Where are you?” 

The snail morphs into a masculine face then, and Mihawk can’t help but glare down at it. He could recognize the purple hair and dark eyes as one of Big Mom’s sons. Rage threatens to consume the warlord, knowing that you were with them, but he pushes it down for now. You had told him that you were doing okay, so that meant they had not hurt you or the child growing inside. Mihawk would teach them the meaning of destruction if you had been. 

“Whole Cake, but we plan to travel back to my home tomorrow. It’s on the eastern side of the archipelago.” 

Mihawk sneers, “And why are you telling me this?” 

There is a scoff on the other side, and he watches the snail roll its eyes at him. 

“Because I’m giving _ back to you. Mother should have known better than to take her in the first place, and I’ve seen what you and Shanks are capable of. I’m saving my family.” 

The warlord can’t help the dry laugh that escapes him, “Charlotte was a fool to have thought that her actions would not have consequences. You are doing the right thing by giving _ back to us. At least one of you has some kind of intelligence.” 

The snail gains your features again, your tone amused but admonishing. 

“Be nice, Mihawk.” 

He listens to you and asks Katakuri the name of his home, and then you are back. 

“The island is called Komugi. It’ll have a big donut in the center of it.” 

Mihawk nods, committing the location and name to memory, “I’ll be there, darling. Perona and I are only a couple of days out.” 

“Please hurry, Mihawk. I miss you.” 

His heart aches in his chest, and Dracule wants more than anything to be able to wrap you up in his arms and hold you close. To hide you away and never leave your side, so that this could never happen again, “We’ll be there as soon as we can, sweetheart.”

He hears you sniff again, and then your voice is quiet but strong. 

“And Mihawk, please don’t be too upset with Shanks. None of us are perfect, and I’m sure he is beating himself up enough without you tearing him down.” 

Mihawk sighs heavily and looks out into the sea. He had already begun to regret how he had reacted to the news back on your island. You and Perona were right. 

“I will beg his forgiveness just like I will beg yours, darling. I’ll call Shanks and tell him to meet us at Komugi. Be strong for us, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

He listens to you give a teary goodbye and the snail transponder clicks once the call is ended. Mihawk dreads having to call the redhead, but if he didn’t, he knew that Shanks would go straight to Sweet City and raze the entire island to the ground. The emperor had always been rash when it came to the people he loved. 

“Do you really think she is okay?” Perona asks him, and Mihawk dips his head in a nod, opening his arm to the ghost girl so she can tuck herself close to him. He had learned from you that sometimes a person just needed a little physical contact to feel better. You would be proud of him, he thinks. 

“She would have told us if they weren’t treating her well, and I find myself… trusting Katakuri to keep his word.”

Perona pouts but nods, “They better. I’ll throw ‘em all in the ocean myself if they aren’t.” 

Hawkeye huffs a laugh and then releases his charge, turning away to go below deck. He still needed to phone Shanks. 

---

Shanks can see the archipelago that makes up Whole Cake on the horizon. They sailed hard and quickly, taking shortcuts and catching updrafts only he knew about to get to Big Mom’s territory as fast as possible. Shanks and his crew were ready for anything that the woman could possibly throw at them, for he had let that rage build and grow inside of him, his haki lashing out uncontrollably.

Not only had you been taken, but Mihawk had taken his heart and crushed it with no remorse. Shanks didn’t like it, but he couldn’t help but resent the other man for it at first. He had worked so hard to get the older man to trust him, and one tiny mistake on his part had led to Mihawk throwing his love for him in his face and raised his sword in anger at the redhead. Shanks understood that what he’d done had cost them you, but he hadn’t been the one who had made their treasure send them away. That blame lay at the hawk’s feet. 

So yeah, he was pissed right the fuck off, and had let his anger fester when he would normally let it slide away. He had wept and raged and drank in his cabin for the better part of the trip, and had only stopped when Neal, the damned goat, had tried to bite his fingers when he’d reached for the next bottle of rum. They had glared at one another before Shanks had scoffed and fell back in his bed to sleep the rest of the day away. 

Shanks’ anger had tempered in that time, but the more he was forced into being sober, the more he felt those feelings of resentment had faded into hurt. He had already beaten himself into the ground over his fat mouth in the first place and had hoped that Mihawk would have been a bit more understanding, but he should have known better. 

“Shanks,” Benn says quietly, and he turns to see his first mate standing behind him with the transponder snail in hand. It looks at him with familiar golden eyes, and he purses his lips, tempted to ignore the older man, but Benn puts that thought to the ground, “It’s about _.” 

The emperor sucks in a sharp breath and snatches the snail out of the other man’s hand, and beats a hasty retreat to his quarters. Once safely inside, he sets the snail on his desk and plops in his chair, “Mihawk.” 

“Shanks. Where are you?” 

The redhead frowns, leaning back in his seat, “Why?” 

He hears the warlord sigh in frustration, and can’t help the smarmy smirk that crosses his lips. Good, be mad.

“Because I know where _ is and I am still a few days away from Whole Cake.” 

Shanks drops the act at that and sits forward, eyes going wide, “What? How do you know?” 

“She called me. They planned to marry her off to Katakuri, one of Linlin’s son but he understood how ignorant that would be and decided to let her call me. They plan on traveling to his home island tomorrow. So where are you?” 

“We’re just out of range of any of their ships, but I can see the archipelago.” 

Mihawk huffs again on the other side, and Shanks watches the snail narrow its eyes at the redhead. 

“Then start sailing east, and I will meet you there.” 

If this hadn’t been about you, then Shanks would have snapped and been difficult about the obvious order, so ignored the urge. He is about to agree and just hangs up the phone, but Mihawk’s next words stop him in his tracks. 

“I’m sorry, Red. I should not have reacted the way I did. I was angry, and worried about _, but I should not have taken it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.” 

Shanks isn’t sure what to say at first. It was like pulling teeth to get an apology out of the warlord, so he knew that you had to have something to do with this. But even if you had been involved with this, he could hear the quiet sincerity in the other man’s voice, and it made Shanks ache with the need to see him. 

“I-.”

“I love you, Shanks. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

Unbidden, tears spring up in the redhead’s eyes, and he smooths a hand over his mouth. He blinks harshly to clear them away, heart in his throat, “I love you, too.” 

He can hear the relieved sigh on the other side, and the warlord is back to his usual drawl seconds later. 

“I will meet you there by the end of tomorrow. Wait for me, Shanks. We will get _ back together.” 

Shanks swallows roughly and scrubs at his face, voice still thick with unshed tears, “Okay, Hawkeye. We’ll wait for you. Be safe, yeah?” 

The other man huffs on the other side. 

“I should be telling you that, Red. I’ll see you soon.” 

Ca-lick

Shanks curls into himself the moment the transmission is cut, hope and relief flooding his veins and he finally allows the tears to fall. His shoulders shake, and a broken whine leaves his lips as all the rage and resentment floods out of him. His family was slowly beginning to mend itself, all they needed was you, and everything would be okay again. 

The emperor pulls himself together and drys his eyes with the back of his hand. His crew would know that he’d been crying, but the redhead can’t find it within himself to care. Shanks stands and ambles back out on deck dropping his hand on Neal’s head when he walks past the goat. 

“Sail us east, Yasopp. We’re meeting up with Mihawk,” he orders, and Benn lopes up beside him, his brows raised and an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. 

“Good news?” 

Shanks nods, and angles a smile at his first mate, “Good news.”

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[otkuhotgirl]

─────── 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 !

# featuring one piece.

behold, my master(one)piece — got it? check out my kinktober schedule for the incoming month!

⎰ & containing PWP. NSFW at its finest. DARK CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏 — breast worship | praise kink | lactation with black-leg sanji.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐 — cock worship | deepthroating with roronoa zoro.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑 — medical play | glove kink with trafalgar water d. law.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟒 — food play | overstimulation | cunnilingus with monkey d. luffy.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟓 — temperature play with portgas d. ace.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔 — dacryphilia | orgasm denial with eustass kid.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟕 — lingerie | mirror sex | body worship with nico robin.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 — prompts for requests!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟖 — threesome | sensation play with black-leg sanji & roronoa zoro!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟗 — tights | begging | boot worship with smoker!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟎 — strip-tease | lap dance with akagami no shanks!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟏 — choking | hate sex with trafalgar water d. law!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟐 — corruption | aphrodisiacs | edging with roronoa zoro!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟑 — zelophilia | humiliation with donquixote doflamingo!

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟏𝟒 — breeding kink | cockwarming with eustass kid!

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟐 — pegging | strap-on with black-leg sanji.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟑 — shibari | power imbalance with donquixote doflamingo.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟒 — period sex | blood-play with trafalgar water d. law.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟓 — marking | shotgunning with sir. crocodile.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟔 — office sex | almost getting caught with smoker.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟕 — public | dry-humping | finger-sucking with flame emperor sabo.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟖 — sea-sex | mermaid with akagami no shanks.

❪ ˙˖ 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 .

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟐𝟗 — size kink | creampie | first time with charlotte katakuri.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟎 — threesome | squirting | fingering | sixty-nine with nico robin & nami.

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟑𝟏 — WILDCARD!