#the pirate x the savior

[sav-the-bi-queen]

Best romantic scenes : Emma x Hook

[retrokid616]

oryms on the boat and is getting his nightcrawler on!

[sweetfwr]

WILD UNCHARTED WATER ˒˒ yjw

as the son of the nefarious pirate king, jungwon's sole duty is to capture you, the only daughter of the very royal family that threatens his livelihood and his home. however a few ship raids, late night ventures, and exchanges of hate (love?) letters later, it seems that you have captured him instead. body, mind, and soul.

or, once the pirate prince catches wind of your engagement, he’s perched on your window demanding an explanation.

pairing) pirate!jungwon x princess!reader

tags) fantasy au, forbidden love, enemies to lovers

wc) 2.7k

warnings) mentions of death and killing, reader & won are literally evil, making out

to say that your relationship with the pirate prince didn’t start in the healthiest of ways was a grave understatement.

before the clandestine correspondence, the whispered meetings in the shadows of the imperial palace, and his weekly and scandalously unauthorized visits to your rooms in the dead of night, there were flames. 

they engulfed your royal ship, swallowing the screams of your loyal crew as they burned alive, their charred remains scattering into the cold winds of the night. the air was thick with the stench of smoke and sea salt, drowning out everything except for the cackling of pirates as more and more stormed aboard the ship, all under the command of one man. and while the screams of agony broke your heart to pieces, you remained unbent and unbroken.

you refused to bow your head to the pirate prince, as he did to you. 

his eyes twinkled with mischief as he crouched before your kneeling form, your hands bound by thick rope behind your back as he brushed a stray hair out of your face with a gloved hand, face only inches away from yours. the firelight flicked over his features, casting him as the devil and your savior in the same breath. 

“your daddy would pay a pretty penny to have you back.” 

this man was no stranger, yang jungwon was the son of the pirate king—the very man who had made a name for himself as he robbed, slaughtered, and terrorized the citizens of your kingdom as he pleased. you should have known he’d send his pretty son after you on the voyage home from a diplomatic trip. and though you supposed he was quite sharp to have successfully planned and executed a raid on a royal ship… you were sharper. 

“you gonna hand me over, then?” you sneered, eyes never leaving his own, and you noted they were just about as dark as the night sky hanging over your heads. “sell me to whichever lord is the oldest and the ugliest to feed your fleet for a measly half a year before they’re back to starving again?”

he gave a humorless laugh. “smart girl, but not quite. why keep you alive to feed my crew for that measly half a year when i could serve your royal head on a platter to your father’s enemies for double the amount?” 

“a measly year, then.” you said nonchalantly, and his eyes darkened further than you thought possible. 

“choose your next words carefully.” 

paying no mind to his previous threats, you shifted uncaringly, straightening your back despite the ash filling your lungs and the blood staining your gown of silk. “clearly, the great pirate prince is ill aware of how much my head is worth spouting what i know.”

“and what’s that?” jungwon challenged you, raising a brow. 

“information,” you said simply, a glint in your eye that made even the stomach of the pirate prince churn. “names. wealthy, powerful names of hidden allies that would prefer to see you rise to the throne of the tideborn once the lard that sits on it is dead. they all sit on the table in my court.”

“you’ve got some nerve,” the pirate laughed mockingly, something telling you that you’d captured his full attention. “a royal hostage is negotiating terms while her ship burns and her men become fish food. who’s to say that i’m not loyal to my father?” 

you remained still, expression unwavering. “because you wouldn’t be standing here trying to impress your princess if you weren’t.” 

“i am not trying to impress you.”

“then why haven’t you slit my throat yet?” 

the silence that followed after said enough, and it was time for you to act now before you could no longer do so, heart hammering in your chest. slowly, you rose to the balls of your feet and took a careful step forward towards the unmoving pirate, the harsh winds whipping strands of your hair across your face. 

“you want it so bad, don't you?” you whispered, pretending not to notice the way jungwon’s shoulders subtly tensed as you slowly circled around him like your surroundings weren’t in flames and your hands weren’t bound behind your back. “you want the tideborn seat, and you’ll stop at nothing to get it. i can give it to you, yang.” 

when he looked you straight in the eye, looking like he was deciding on whether to gut you or kiss you, you knew you had won. something in your gut told you that you’d be sleeping soundly in your own chambers tonight. 

“…untie the princess,” jungwon spoke, and his men immediately came forward to cut the rope that bound your wrists together with a machete. just like that, you were free. 

“you’re offering to give me the seat of the tides?”  the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, like a babe being given candy for good behavior. 

“i’ll make you king of the sea,” you nodded, smoothing the material of your dress with your hands like this entire situation mattered little to you. “i’ll surrender all those who uplift your father’s reign and oppose yours to you. as long as you continue to do the same for those who contend for my throne, as i do for yours.” 

that must’ve got him, because the pirate prince stepped back and raked his eyes over your bloody appearance like he was reassessing all of you. 

“i’m impressed,” jungwon grinned, and it was the first time he had done so genuinely in front of you, you noted, trying your best to not be entranced by his dimples. “you’re dangerous. i thought you’d beg for your life.” 

you smiled, and in the eyes of the future king of the sea, the flames surrounding you only added to your appeal. 

“i am my father’s daughter.” 

and so, your agreement ensued. the price of his tideborn throne for the price of your crownseat. correspondence delivered via jungwon’s white raven—who you soon learned was named maeumi—turned into your men meeting down at the coastline to exchange information at dawn every fortnight disguised as unsuspecting fishermen.

when information was more sensitive, too precious to be passed to one another by bird or by proxy, the sneaky pirate would come to you himself, evading palace guards with alarming ease. 

he would come to you in the still of night, having scaled the stone walls in absolute discretion. you’d find your windows unlatched and jungwon perched at the ledge and staring up at you smugly, winds whipping at the curtains as if it were its own entity. sometimes, you’d come back to find him knelt down on the polished floors of your chambers, giggling and affectionately rubbing the belly of what was supposed to be your loyal guard hound. much to your disdain, it welcomed the intruder, wagging his tail in the air as soon as the sound of your window latches coming undone filled the room. 

his visits were brief at first, although he never went without leaving you the most precious gift of all: intel. whether it was a word, a map, or a name, the pirate personally ensured you were never empty handed, even whenever you fell short of your end of the deal. 

as the space between you grew smaller, his visits grew longer. he began to linger, like vermin, not only in your rooms but in your heart as well as your mind. he’d run his fingers over the dusty spines of your book collection and sit at the foot of your bed while you brushed your hair on the other end, a rarity for whenever your resolve became soft from exhaustion. intently, almost gently he listened to whatever information you had to offer him that week. 

and then he would leave again, but not without intel turning into the charred ships of rival houses and mysterious, unexplained deaths of your every enemy. sometimes you commanded it, sometimes you didn’t.

either way, blood spilled, and you learned to stop asking from whose hands it came from. 

once, jungwon showed up to your chamber with a gash below his ribs, breathing erratic as he clutched his wound with a bloody hand. “a skirmish,” he had explained, though not before jokingly reminding you that not even a barrel to the head could make him miss a meeting. you rolled your eyes, but stitched up his gash without wasting a second, mumbling incoherencies about stupid, reckless pirates while he smiled down at you almost affectionately. 

after that night, the pirate prince started to bring gifts. small and careless, but material ones nonetheless. vintage bottles of wine that you had no doubt came from ship raids, seashells for you to wear in your hair, and once, a ribbon belonging to a noblewoman you despised. you almost smiled, before harshly reminding yourself that he was the enemy of your house, and the man that threatened your life not many fortnights ago. 

you would find a way to double-cross him one way or another, make him feel a betrayal of a lifetime and undo him in ways that nobody else could before he could do the same to you. or at least, that’s what you told yourself as you snuck kisses in the shadows of your castle and called on him when you could confide in nobody else. yang jungwon of course, came running like a hound every time. 

by the time autumn leaves gave way to icicles and snowflakes, your guards began to stop asking questions about the sounds of unlatching windows and creaky floorboards that seemed to only ever occur at night. 

and you? you no longer bothered to lock the windows. 

it’s past midnight when the chill of the outside air nips at your neck and travels down your spine, but you’re far too busy undoing the braids in your hair to look back. after all, you already know who’s perched on your window ledge like a hawk before his boots even hit the floor. 

“you’re late.” murmur, still facing the mirror as you remove the gold earrings tugging at your lobes. 

“and you’re engaged.” jungwon says, voice low and venomous. your body becomes rigid in response, like you’ve been caught committing an unforgivable sin.

you shift your gaze to meet his eyes through the reflection of the mirror, and to say that the pirate looked unhappy was an understatement. brown eyes stormy and jaw clenched tight, he inches closer to where you sit in front of your vanity until the smell of sea salt mixes with the perfume on your collar bones. 

the expensive one, he notes, having smothered you in the bed inches away from you until the fragrance faded one too many times before. one that you had imported from the faraway islands in the east to impress your fiance, no doubt. against his better judgement, the thought only enrages him further.

“congratulations,” he laughs bitterly, blowing his bangs out of his face in frustration. he purses his lips in such a way that allowed you a glimpse of his dimples, and you almost coo. “who’s the lucky man? one of your daddy’s simpering lackeys?” 

you don’t answer and it seems to enrage him more than any words could have, so he speaks once more. “i threw my lookout overboard and into the seas last week for a lesser betrayal.” 

you stand abruptly, turning to face him with the same venom in your tone. “you hold no claim over me.” 

“i don’t,” he snaps. “yet i was the one burning cities for you while you remained here, writing your dainty little letters to me about who you wanted dead and when.” 

“you think i owe you because you did what you were told?” you sneer defiantly, trying your hardest to not be consumed by the inches of distance between your faces. “don’t mistake your usefulness for something more.” 

“that’s rich coming from the girl who near threatened to gut me if i didn’t kiss her silly while her father’s name day feast was going on outside.” he argues, hands cupping your shoulders and gaze peering into your soul as if he was begging you to just see him. 

“you need me. just about as much as i need you. all of you.” 

you shake his hands off your shoulders, taking a few steps towards your billowing curtains to maintain a distance between you and whatever the seven hells you were with jungwon. 

“say something,” the pirate prince pleads, something you never thought you’d live long enough to see him do. despite your consciousness screaming at you to not give him the satisfaction he sought so desperately, you cave. 

furiously, you whip your head towards where he stands and let go. “do you think i enjoy being sold off like a bartering chip when i was promised my own throne?!” you snarl, nails digging into your palms at the thought of being forced into a marriage forged in paperwork. “you think this engagement means anything? that i chose park sunghoon myself? 

“then say no,” jungwon scoffs, staring at you like you just twisted a dagger into his heart. to him, you might as well have done it and it would pain him far less. 

“just say the word, and i’ll kill him myself. i’ll burn the entire damned court to ash and all you have to do is say no.” 

you stare at him, eyes wide and chest heaving like he hadn’t meant to say it– not out loud. 

“you’d start a war,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “stop pretending that you’re doing this for anything but your father’s piracy.” 

he steps forward without a word, the tension in the room so thick that you feel like it could descend and suffocate you at any moment. at least then, you’d be free from this torment. 

“i was,” jungwon’s voice drops. “and then i started seeing your face in the sea at the dead of night and wondering when i could come home to you next.” 

the pirate didn’t say it, not directly, but you hated him for saying anything that could even be remotely related to love first. you should have slapped him, scorning him for thinking he could ever be anything other than the enemy you entertained to save your own life. 

but instead, your fingers dig into the collar of his heavy coat. 

and you kiss him. 

there’s no softness in the way your lips move against each other, just months of tension, arguments and correspondence that could never satiate either of your appetites. he tastes of caramel candies and smells of smoke and sea salt, everything you hate about him down to your very core. and yet, your body continues to betray your mind as you loop your arms around his neck and his hands find your waist as if they belong there. 

when you finally break away from each other, you're breathless against his chest as jungwon wordlessly holds you close to his rapidly beating heart. “you’re the most awful man i know.” 

“you wait for me nightly regardless, princess” your pirate murmurs, and you hate that he speaks the truth. 

for a split second you wish that you could let yourself stay in his warmth forever. you wish that ending your engagement was as simple as saying no, and you know to yourself that the man holding you close wishes the very same. 

then, reality comes creeping back like the cold air billowing through your curtains. you shove him away. 

“go,” you say, face void of any previous emotion. “before i do something i regret.” 

for once, jungwon doesn’t have a sly remark. he backs away from you slowly, the expression on his face unreadable. 

“i’ll be back,” he says, and you know it’s a promise. 

and then he’s gone, swallowed by the darkness of the night and the sounds of the sea lapping at the coast like he always was, his final words to you ringing in your ears like a melody. 

you latch your windows shut, though not before sending a prayer to the heavens to ensure his safety. 

after all, he was your weakness, as you were his. 

taglist: @won1yoiz @dreamiestay @wonys-won

© SWEETFWR

[houseofaegon]

Blood and Ashes ✩ Ben Mears

Pairings: Ben Mears x Vampire!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. no use of y/n, ben mears x fem!reader, gothic and dark themes, heavy sensual tension, blood drinking (consensual), vampire seduction, praise kink, biting, obsession, possessive behavior, domination, rough sex, wall sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, mutual surrender, dirty talk, fangs!!!!, feral!ben, blood play/kink.

Summary: Jesuralem's Lot is dead. But something still breathes in the bones of the Marsten House. Ben returns not to save, but to submit—to her. She is the last vampire left—and she’s starving. What she wants isn’t a meal. It’s him. Mind, body, soul. Forever.

Author's Note: this fic???? absolutely ruined me. i love you lewis pullman you're everything to me!!!! i would let him destroy me!!!!

Jerusalem's Lot had never been kind. Not to you. Not to anyone. And now? It was a graveyard masquerading as a small town—its silence oppressive, its shadows swollen with secrets. Wind slithered through the streets like whispered curse, carrying with it the scent of rotting burnt corpses, rain-soaked wood, and something dangerous. The houses, once quaint and beautiful sagged like broken things. Empty. Haunted. Trees clawed at the night sky. The Marsten House, standing like a vulture on its hill, watched it all.

Ben Mears returned not as a savior, but as a man still haunted by the events of the night before. Hunted. A helpless sheep walking right into the wolf's den. He climbed the hill not because he wanted to—but because some part of him needed to. Drawn. Pulled.

Like a pirate enchanted by a siren's call.

The door groaned as Ben Mears pushed it open, and the darkness inside breathed out to greet him—warm, perfumed, heavy with the scent of something not quite dead.

He stepped inside.

The air was thick. Candles flickered, some burned low, others tall and fresh. Who the hell had lit them? Who kept them alive?

He moved through the hall. The walls dressed in peeling wallpaper the color of dried blood. A crystal chandelier hung above the foyer, crusted in dust, but beneath the dust the crystals still caught the candlelight, glinting like a thousand frozen tears. Cobwebs clung to it like veils.

A golden goblet sat on a marble pedestal, so clean and pristine—it looked like it didn't belong there. He lifted it slowly, heart thudding in his chest. The liquid inside shimmered dark red. He brought it to his nose.

Not wine.

Blood.

His stomach lurched.

"Ben Mears."

The voice curled around his spine. Low. Feminine. Dark velvet soaked in sin.

He turned.

She stood at the edge of the staircase. Bare foot on old wood, gown clinging to her like a second skin. The fabric shimmered red and black, like blood and shadows. Her skin was pale, untouched by time, framed by ink-black hair cascading down her back in waves. Her eyes—a deep, gleaming crimson, unholy.

She looked like something that had been once worshipped and now feared.

Ben couldn't speak. Couldn't move.

"You found your way back I see," she said, stepping into the candlelight. It kissed her face, casting shadows that made her look carved from sin. "Curiosity? Guilt? Or maybe something darker?"

He managed a whisper. “Who are you?”

Her smile was slow. Cruel. Beautiful. Big white fangs shimmered under the light.

“They used to call me whore,” she said. “Before I even knew what it meant. Before I’d even been kissed. Just a girl with too much beauty and not enough shame for their liking.”

She circled him slowly, voice a dark song.

“They said I seduced the minister's son. That I danced naked in the woods. That I’d made a pact with the Devil.”

She laughed. A dark, low, raspy rumble on her chest that made his skin prickle.

Her eyes burned red. "I hadn't. Not then, at least."

He swallowed. "What happened?"

"I wanted this town to burn. When Barlow came, I went to him. Walked through the dark with bare feet and said, take me. I wanted to watch them all suffer. I wanted to watch them scream."

"You let him bite you."

"I begged him to." She was behind him now, breath ghosting his neck. "He thought he'd make his perfect bride. But he made something else."

Her cold fingers slid along his arm, nails scratching his skin. He flinched.

“I was too dark inside. Too much rage. Not enough soul left to lose.” She circled to face him again, eyes wide, shining blood-red. “I didn’t die. I became.”

She lifted the goblet and drank.

"Your blood smells so good," she whispered, licking her blood-stained lips slowly with a satisfying moan. "Like guilt and want and loneliness."

Ben backed away. "You're not human."

“No,” she agreed. “But not a monster either.”

She stepped closer. “You’ve been dreaming of me. Every night. You see a woman in the dark, in silk, with fangs, and you wake up hard and aching and ashamed.”

He froze.

She touched his chest. "You hate this place. Just like I did. I can feel it. I can hear your thoughts. That's why you came back. You want to be ruined."

Her lips brushed his cheek, then his ear.

"I can ruin you, Ben. I can help you. Sweetly. Slowly."

“Don’t,” he warned.

“Why?” she asked, fangs flashing. “You’re dying to be tasted.”

Her tongue flicked across his throat and he gasped. She moaned softly, intoxicated.

“Say it,” she whispered. “Say you want it.”

He did.

God help him, he did.

Ben stepped back, boots creaking against the wood. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. Wild. Desperate. But his eyes wouldn't leave her.

She stood with the goblet in hand, blood on her lips. The candlelight adored her, casting her in gold and flickering shadow. Every inch of her was hauntingly beautiful. Sacred. Profane. Unholy. Her beauty seduced him.

She stepped forward, slowly, hips swaing, her gown clinging to the curve of her thighs, the dip of her waist. She moved like sin incarnate—like something not meant for daylight. He backed up until his shoulders hit the crumbling wall. She didn't touch him. Not yet. Just stood close enough that her scent filled his lungs—blood, roses, sin.

"I can hear your thoughts, you know," she purred. "They're loud."

He shook his head. "Get out of my head."

"I'm not in it." Her voice dipped, teasing. "You invited me."

Her hand hovered near his chest.

"Your heart is begging. I can feel it," she whispered.

Ben’s mouth was dry. “You’re playing with me.”

“Yes.” Her grin curled. “Do you want me to stop?”

He didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Her scent was madenning. Her beauty enchanting. A curse. A drug. A poison. And God he would be lying if he said he wasn't addicted. His muscles coiled. His body betrayed him, leaning into her shadow.

She leaned in, lips grazing his temple. "I know what you want, Ben. I can feel it. Taste it. It's delicious," she purred. "You dream of hands like mine. Mouths like mine. You want to fall."

She reached for his hand, and he let her take it. Did nothing to push her away. Her fingers were cold and strong, pale. She brought his hand to her face and pressesed it to her cheek slowly.

"I'm not afraid of you," he said, lying.

She turned her head, pressed her lips to his palm. "Then you're a fool."

He gasped as she kissed his wrist, her fangs brushing against his skin. Against his pulse. Not biting. Not yet.

"Tell me to stop," she whispered.

He stared at her, lips parted.

"Tell me," she repeated, lower now, hungrier.

But he didn't. He couldn't. She was too close, too warm, too real. His body shook, overwhelmed by her scent, her voice, her beauty. She was everything forbidden, everything he'd never dared to admit he wanted. And she knew it.

She stepped back just enough to let him breathe—but not enough to break the spell.

“You came looking for monsters,” she said, slowly circling him again. “But what if the thing you find... is yourself?”

She stopped behind him and pressed her body against his back, mouth at his ear again.

“You ache, Ben. Let me take it.”

His eyes fluttered shut. Her hands slid under his shirt, nails trailing over his ribs, slow, almost reverent.

“Don’t—” he breathed.

“But you want me to.”

Silence.

“Yes,” he said finally. Voice hoarse, broken. “God help me, yes.”

“He won’t.” She smiled against his throat. "God's not here, Ben. Only me."

She breathed out, a moan half pleasure, half hunger let her lips. Her arms snaked around his waist, holding him like a lover—possessive, starving. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear.

"You don't know what you've given," she purred. "But I will take it. Every inch of you."

Ben turned to face her, trembling, his hands cupping her face like he might wake up from a dream and lose her. She looked up at him through dark lashes, her smile low and feral, baring just the tips of her fangs. Her pupils dilated as she watched him, drinking in the flush of his skin, the raw pulse in his throat, the smell of his blood.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, voice breaking. “God, you’re—”

She kissed him.

Not gently. Not sweetly.

Her mouth devoured his—needy, commanding, insatiable. Her tongue swept into him like fire, like blood, like everything he’d ever feared and secretly craved. He groaned into her mouth, hands diving into her hair, tangling, pulling. Her body crushed to his, soft curves pressed against muscle and desperation.

The kiss deepened—filthy, raw, and desperate. She tore his shirt open with a sound that wasn’t entirely human—a low growl of satisfaction rumbling from her throat. Buttons flew, skittering across the floor. Her hands dragged across his chest, nails leaving thin, red trails that stung and made him groan. She moaned at the sight of him.

“God, look at you,” she whispered. “So fucking beautiful. All mine to have. All mine to taste.”

Ben's breath hitched, his chest heaving under her touch. Her words made his blood burn. Her mouth followed her hands, hot kisses pressed into his pecs, his ribs, the scar above his heart. He shivered. Moaned.

“You’re not afraid,” she said again, unbuckling his belt with one hand, eyes locked to his.

“I should be,” he said, voice hoarse.

“But you’re not,” she smiled, dark and victorious. “You’re hungry.”

She shoved his pants down, and he kicked off his boots, stepping free with a raw, desperate grace. He stood before her now—bare, vulnerable, and utterly wrecked by desire and want.

Then it was his turn.

He reached for her, slowly, and took one thin strap of her gown between his fingers. Slid it down her shoulder. Then the other. His hands were trembling. Not with fear. With deisre.

The gown slipped from her, pooling at her feet. She stood bare in the candlelight, and Ben stared, stunned, unable to speak.

"God, you're..." he couldn't even finish the thought.

"Say it," she purred, licking the shell of his ear.

"I want you," he breathed. "I want all of you."

"Then take me."

He lifted her like she weighed nothing. She gasped, arms and legs wrapping around him like vines. He pushed her against the wall, candles flickering wild, shadows dancing around them.

Her back hit the wall with a loud thud, and she laughed. Dark. Breathless. Delighted.

"That's it," she moaned. "Just like that. Use me. I'm yours."

Ben's mouth was on her throat, kissing, bitting. She arched into him. Her nails dragged down his back, claiming him.

"You're mine now," she whispered, head falling back, her red eyes blazing. "Mine to take. Mine to break. Mine to rebuild. Mine to love."

His hands gripped her hips, lifting, pressing, thrusting. She gasped, her voice breaking into a cry that echoed through the ruined halls of the Marsten House.

Ben buried his face in her neck, breath ragged, teeth grazing her skin. Every inch of her burned into him—her scent, her voice, the way her body welcomed his like it had been waiting centuries.

“Please,” he gasped against her throat. “Do it. Bite me.”

She pulled back just enough to see his face—flushed, eyes blown wide with desire, lips trembling. Her grin was wicked, dripping hunger.

“You want it?” she purred. “You want me to sink my fangs into you, mark you, ruin you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “Ruin me. I want it. I want you.”

She moaned at his desperation, rolling her hips into him as his body pressed harder against hers. “You’re such a good boy for me, Ben. So fucking perfect. Look at you. So beautiful. So wrecked. Just for me."

He groaned, her hands gripped her ass, lifting her higher, pressing harder against hers. "God, you feel like heaven and hell."

She kissed him again—biting his lower lip, drawing blood. He gasped, and she licked it away.

“You don’t belong to yourself anymore,” she whispered against his mouth. “You’re mine. My pretty little thing. My blood. My boy. Mine.”

“Yes,” he groaned. “Yours. I’m yours.”

She kissed down his throat, her voice a growl now, primal and dark. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Beg for it.”

“Bite me. Please. Mark me. Fucking take me.”

Her fangs slid into his neck. Ben cried out, but he wasn't in pain. He let out a growl so exquisite it made her moan, deep, guttural, blood slipping into her mouth like the first taste of sin. She moaned around his blood, drunk on him, her fingers digging into his back as he thrust into her in one fluid, desperate motion.

She gasped, her head snapping back against the wall, red eyes rolling half-shut. Blood dripped from her lips, down her chin, slick and warm between their bodies.

“Fuck,” she moaned. “Ben—God—yes.”

His tongue darted out, licking the trail of blood from her chin. He groaned at the taste of his own blood—copper, sweetness, sin. His mouth moved up to hers, messy and hungry, their kiss smeared with blood and breathless devotion.

He rocked into her, harder now, his hips slamming against hers. She cried out, fingers clawing down his back, marking him.

“Yours,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m fucking yours.”

“Say it louder,” she demanded, panting.

“YOURS.”

Her laugh was ragged, breathless, head falling back again as he slammed into her again, again, and again. “That’s it. Good fucking boy. Ruin me.”

“You’re perfect,” he gasped. “You’re so perfect, fuck—so tight, so wet, so fucking mine.”

“Ben,” she moaned, clinging to him. “You’re filling me so good. You feel so good.”

He didn’t slow. Couldn’t. Every thrust was a prayer, a promise, a confession, a goddamn surrender. Harder, deeper, more desperate. Her body met his with the same hunger, the same rhythm, the same unholy need.

Her head snapped back, eyes rolling, mouth open in a helpless cry. Her moans came faster, louder, broken into pieces by his unrelenting rhythm.

“You like that?” he growled, gripping her hips, pounding into her like he could fuck her into the wall. “You like how I ruin you?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “God, yes, Ben—”

“I want you to come for me,” he snarled, voice low and vicious in her ear. “Come on me, come with me—let them hear it.”

Her nails raked his back, leaving streaks. “Fuck, Ben, don’t stop, I’m—”

He slammed into her, over and over, watching her unravel. "You're mine now. Mine."

She moaned. "You taste so fucking good. I can’t—I need—”

“Then take more,” he growled.

Her fangs sank into his neck again. He cried out, a sound of agony and release. Her body clenched, spasmed around him, her climax hitting her like a storm. She shook in his arms, drowning in him, groaning into his neck as she tasted his sweet blood.

“I want to taste you,” he gasped. “All of you. I want your blood.”

She grinned as she bit into her wrist with no hesitation, blood slowly dripping. She held it out, offering it to him.

Ben latched onto her wrist with a groan. The taste of her hitting him like lightning, smoke, sex, darkness, so fucking sweet. Her blood was thick, intoxicating, divine.

His eyes rolled back. His moan shattered in his throat. His climax tore through him like wildfire.

They came together, loud and broken.

Her back arched violently against him, a scream ripping from her throat. His grip tightened, his growls muffled against her wrist. His entire world narrowed to this—blood, sweat, sex, her.

Ben slumped against her, trembling, breathless, blood on his lips.

She held him, her own chest heaving, eyes burning with something deeper than lust.

Possesion.

He was hers now. Every heartbeat. Every breath. Entirely hers.

And she was his.

She never thought she'd crave someone like this—never thought she’d need anyone. But his blood? His scent? His voice?

She was addicted. Obsessed.

He was hers, and she wasn't letting go.

“Mine,” she whispered, voice low, dangerous. “Forever.”

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @the-a-word-2214 @favestxrboy @uraesthete @abbysbenchpr @sammystarswrite @pey2618 @qardasngan @lunaoieoie @orithyia-eriphyle @amatiswayland @madzzz6958 @all-by-myself98 @dark-silhouette @ghost-ghost-13 @wyvernthekriger @gayfiretruck @watermeezer @lvmxla @novausstuff @mommymilkers0526 @natureartisian @feralgoblinbabe (if you want to be tagged in my future works lmk! <3)

[fanaticsnail]

presses the +1 button for write it write it write it re: the vampire post im

🥺🥺🥺

biggest, saddest, wettest eyes pleading sldakjlkgfdjksgkl

got out of work and immediately got smacked in the face with that post im aslkdjkglfd ALSO that gif of law is 👌

@remisloves

Anything for you, Remi! I'll call it a gift exchange for you for your art of my OC, Tobiuo. I also adore that Law gif, so I'm gonna use it again! Thank you for your ask, Remi 🖤🖤

Invitation

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,500+

Synopsis: Based on vampiric folklore, a vampire may not come inside a premises without an explicit invitation. The vampire, Trafalgar D Water Law, was now left with a predicament, and you were not playing fair about it.

Themes: Vampire!Law x gn!reader, mdni, 18+, NSFW, smut, prior relationship hinted, penetrative sex (reader receiving), bratty reader, begging, pleading, crying, vampire biting - blood consumption, porn with plot, biting, edging, based on this post.

Notes: Returning to my vampire era again. Oh no. Mini part 2 here.

“Please.”

That small word was the greatest symphony to the world’s most fantastic serenade. The body between your thighs, nestled with his cock deep within your abdomen, and rhythmically bucking up with the crude slap of hips thrusting, was the vampire: Trafalgar D Water Law.

You had been friends for a while, the heart pirates stampeding onto your island and begging to port to resupply from your homeland granted your first meeting. The captain of the Polar Tang had his Were-bear speak for him, Bepo the peaceful mouthpiece for his demands while negotiating the resupply. The winged naga, Penguin, and the fey trickster, Shachi, ensured you were informed of the dire circumstances they found themselves within. Their captain had been inadvertently starved, his grip on his own sanity slipping the longer he withheld his urge to feed on a human.

He was a doctor, and a creature damned, yet deemed savior to the living. His soul was long since departed, yet here he was: stripped down to naught but his essence and begging for you from your position above him.

“No.”

That response alone had him whimpering, his eyes stinging at the corners from the creases where his lashes kissed one another. He looked up at you like you were the lifeline tethering him to the world, coinciding with his desperate bucking, had you feeling superior and empowered.

While you did grant the Polar Tang permission to dock at your port, you did not gift Trafalgar Law, the vampire, permission to come inside your body. With the ‘rules of permission’ induced in with vampiric folklore, come and cum seemed to be interchangeable.

You had been edging this vampire for almost half an hour now. The mixture of your blood from a deep bite against your jugular swirled with the lust he was burying within you. Your body homed his cock with an ease he hadn't experienced prior, and he was easily lost to the feeling of your soul entwining physically with his.

“Please,” he cried out, his cock refusing to spill while his shaft shuddered in pure need, “I-I can't. It won't. The-... Please.”

His sweet babbles falling from your lips had you cooing and preening down at the dark-haired man. His inked fingers dug into your hips dangerously hard, his restraint tested with each slide of his cock dragging into your body.

“Why won't you let me come in?”

His round, glossy eyes darted between yours as his question rang deep within your mind. No amount of vampiric hypnosis could cause a human to invite someone in, and he would never dream of such a notion. He needed you to need him, and he had never been on the precipice of desire for as long as he was with you.

Pleasure had bloomed and crested within your body twice so far, and you had enjoyed each rock and buck from the skilled vampire who coaxed them out of you. Another wave of desire simmered the longer he begged, and your eyes glazed at how easily you sucked him deep inside you. He was lost with you, his heels planted while he encouraged you to pump his cock with your entrance.

“You want to come in?” you gently cooed down at him, cupping his cool cheek beneath your palm briefly before bringing both of your hands to perch on his shoulders. “You could have pulled out at any time, vampire. What held you fixated?”

“B-Better if I-I cum while drinking from you,” he admitted, his voice catching in his throat while he fought off the fatigue marrying his withheld release. “Please let me come in. I n-need to cum, I need to cum, I need to cum-!”

The captain you once met on your shore, stoic in nature and abrasive in conversation, was begging to flood you with his cum. He needed to release deep within you, and his resolve was wearing away at the edges the longer you forbade him.

“You can hold off a while longer,” you pouted down at him, teasing him with a gentle hand tracing his pectorals towards his sensitive nipple, “Show me that vampiric resilience.”

At that coax, a deep growl erupted from his throat while he rolled you immediately beneath him. He chased his high, the sloppy and languid thrusts of his cock prompting him to whimper and whine with each steady motion. You sighed and gasped at the new angle, your voice catching and fluttering in a similar mannerism to the way your body desperately contracted in rhythmic waves clapping against his shaft.

“You want to come inside?” you gently teased him. He cried out, sobbing while nodding his head at your question. His canines retracted over his lips, his mouth parting and gently tracing over the prior bite you first allowed him to puncture and soothe on your mortal flesh.

He was so hungry when you first met him, you could barely begin to escort him to town before baring your neck out for him to feast on. The eyes sunken and drooped, the features hollowed and forlorn of the vampiric captain tugged at your heartstrings, and you allowed him to feed from you to replenish himself.

After that point, you had not once invited him back to your house, nor given him permission to come in. Both of those factors now brought you heightened joy at the control you held above his head. Although you remained friends and grew in deeper infatuation the longer he remained with you, you were yet to take him fully home.

“Please let me come in,” he whimpered in heavy gasps against your neck, his lengthy tongue expelling and flickering over your skin, “I need to cum inside you. Please? I-I need you.” You flung your arms over his shoulders and cradled him in the nook. He didn't make a move to bite down or bully you, but his moans where muffled huffs against your skin regardless.

“Please.”

You hooked your legs over his hips and interlaced your ankles behind his back, digging your heels into his cool skin and spurring him to fuck into your body harder. His desperate thrusts ran sloppy and desperate as he sobbed into your neck. Your hands traced his tattoo before digging your blunt fingertips into his muscle.

“Okay, sweetheart,” you gasped, already feeling on the precipice of another wave of pleasure crashing over you at his sweet begging and pleading.

“You can come in.”

Immediately his sloppy motions sped up, his cum flooding your body with a stream of viscous release. His teeth surged down and punctured your pulse, moaning at your essence of life as it hit his palate. Your body was no better, immediately bowing your back in a perfect arch and giving in to your third release. White split your vision, the pain from his bite dissipating as your body reached a higher realm of bliss.

His rigid body fell forward, his sobs fading into growled huffs and pants while his cock twitched akin to matching his likely initial rigor mortis. His cool skin melted against your warm torso, his ice-like tongue lapping at the wound and healing it with his saliva.

As you felt your high dissipate, you attempted to wriggle away from his embrace to look up at the vampire weighing his body heavily on you. His grip on you was strong, and he seemed far away and withdrawn in his mind while he lapped at your skin.

“Law?” you queried, attempting to nudge him away from his position nuzzled into your skin. He released a sound that was akin to a laugh before slowly withdrawing up to peer down at you. Hips began to move once more, his hard and steely cock once again hitting a spot that shot sparks up your spine and need pooling in your belly.

“You invited me to come in,” he chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours while his he fucked his exiting cum back into your body, “I'm going to use that hospitality to the fullest, and come in over and over again until I deem it appropriate to stop.”

“Law-!” Your cries fell on deaf ears as he held your hips down and rut into you. Cruel slaps echoed within the room, his prior begs turning into feral grunts at each heavy buck. You reached down in a bid to hold onto him for anchorage, an action he slapped playfully away while he continued his animalistic brutality.

“Nuh uh,” he chuckled down at you playfully, “For all that teasing you gave me earlier, I am going to get my revenge by tearing out orgasm after orgasm from you. All you gotta do is lay there and take what I'm giving to you."

Your body gave in, need again returning and flooding your veins with its reignition. Lips parting and jaw slacking, your legs hang limply over his hips and encouraged him to thrust deeper and harder. His hands move to circle your thighs tug them against him to gain leverage for his motions.

“That's it,” Law praised you with a cockiness in his tone, “You just think about what you did to bring this on. Gonna cum in you whenever I want now."

"Thank you for your invitation.”

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

[somanyratsinthewalls]

congrats on 900 followers! id like to request for a mixture of prompt 9 and 19 with maroon (mihawk) — not particularly smut but a bit of fluff included in it, have a good day or night!

-anon 🪐

Coincidence (+18)

THANK YOU ANON FOR REQUESTING! (Sorry I made it smut but theres plenty of angst cuteness too)

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk x Female Pirate!Reader

Prompts: “It’s fine. We’re all adults. We can sleep in the same bed.” And “Getting you naked was only part of the plan.” 

WC: 2900

TWs: pet names, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, savior complex, previous alcohol mention, same bed! Swearing, kissing, idk? This is literally porn. 

— — 

“Good morning, little rabbit.” A low voice swims in your head. 

Your eyelids flutter open. Everything is blurry. You’re laying in sand. Rain is pouring and you’re chilled to the bone. 

*BOOM*

A clap of thunder snaps you fully awake and you start to cough up sea water. You heave yourself on your hands and knees to better expel the water from your stomach and lungs. 

“I was sure you’d never wake up.” The voice came from above you, clearer now. 

Once you caught your breath, you realized there was a pair of black boots in front of you in the wet sand. You crane your neck upwards to be met with the smug smirk of Dracule Mihawk, towering over you in the storm. 

“H-how? Y-you? W-what?” You croak out, body starting to shiver violently. 

“Now do you really want me to answer those questions right now, or would you like to come to my room at the inn down the road before The Great Pirate Y/n succumbs to hypothermia? An awful pitiful way to go out for a pirate captain, if you ask me.” He extends a hand to help you stand. 

You roll your eyes and push yourself to your feet on your own. 

Mihawk chuckles and lets his arm fall back to his side. 

“Allow me.” Mihawk gestures to offer for you to follow him and heads to the cobblestone road from the beach. You hated the idea of seeking aide at the hands of another pirate, let alone one as dangerous as him… but the chill in your body and the ache in your chest were forcing your hand. 

You follow him into town. 

— — 

After trying to keep up for several blocks, eventually Mihawk ducks into a nondescript establishment and holds the door open for you to follow. You step forward to move past him to enter the inn. 

The first floor was dimly lit with oil lanterns and smelled of rich red wine and a wood burning stove. There were only a few patrons seated around the bar, none of which turned to look at you as the door was opened. The doorway was narrow so you had to turn your body to enter as Mihawk was still holding the door for you. As you brush past his chest he leans in to your ear and whispers. 

“Stairs on the right. End of the hall. Be quick about it, before you drip all over the poor barkeeps floor.” His voice was low and teasing. 

A deep shiver ran down your spine. No doubt due to the cold, wet clothing you were wearing, of course. 

You nimbly flit up the stairs, sure that the former warlord was following closely behind as you could hear the clacking of his boots on the wooden steps. Mihawk catches up to you as you reach the door at the end of the hall. Without a word he uses a key to unlock the door and pushes it open for you. 

You step inside and are immediately met with the glow of firelight and the smell of cologne. Seeing the blazing fire in the fireplace, you rush to throw yourself to your knees on the bearskin rug laid out in front of the fire. 

You put your hands over the flames and you start to be able to feel your fingers again. You sigh in relief. After a few moments of enjoying the fire, you remember that you aren’t alone. Mihawk was standing against the wall, just watching you… arms crossed and feathered hat cocked to one side. The firelight glinted like topaz off his deep golden eyes as you met his gaze. 

“How did you find me?” You manage to rasp out, finding your full voice again. 

“A little birdie told me you were on your way to make an arms deal with smugglers somewhere in the area. I knew you’d come alone and your foolhardiness would ignore the incoming storm. Figured you’d wash up on the shore sometime.” 

“A little bird? Or a little clown?” You quip back and rub your hands together over the blaze. “Stop talking like you know anything about me.” 

“Was I wrong?” Mihawk is quick to retort. “The Cross Guild has eyes and ears everywhere. I am privy to endless amounts of whereabouts and information on the Grand Line.” 

“And yet…” You stand. “With all that information at your disposal, you choose to end up here. Pursuing me.” You cock your head in inquiry. 

The corners of Mihawk’s mouth twitch upwards briefly before returning to his stoic expression. 

“You may wear my dressing gown for the night. You’ll catch your death if you spend another moment in those soaked rags.” The man says and nods towards the ensuite lavatory. 

You take a moment to weigh your options… you hated to admit, but Mihawk was right. You needed to fully dry off before you caught pneumonia or worse. You push past him without saying a word into the bathroom and close the door behind you. As you close the door you see a floor length robe made of exquisite purple silk… this must be the dressing gown he was referring to. You stripped yourself of your sea-water soaked clothing and laid them on the side of the clawfoot tub to dry. 

You looked in the mirror and were horrified. Your hair was tangled and your skin was littered with abrasions and decorated with sand and small wood debris from the wreckage. 

You sigh. 

You grab the washcloth from the side of the sink and turn on the knobs. Once the water was warm you soaked the cloth in the water and gently cleaned your face and body. The soothing temperature of the washcloth allowed you to relax more and you let our a long sigh as you rubbed your aching neck. 

You set the washcloth down and straightened your hair the best you could, sorting out the tangles and knots with your nimble fingers. 

Once satisfied you picked Mihawk’s dressing gown off the hook behind the bathroom door. It was crafted of a fine royal purple silk with intricate gold embroidery on the collar and the sleeves. You slip it on and cinch the tie around your waist, fully covering yourself. It was a bit large, seeing as Mihawk was much bigger than you, so the left shoulder began to fall as soon as you left the bathroom. 

You enter the suite and your eyes find Mihawk’s hat and jacket discarded on the armchair. 

You hear the gentle sound of liquid being poured and you turn your head. You were met with a shirtless Mihawk clad in nothing but sleeping trousers, pouring two heavy glasses of brandy on the end table next to the bed. This was the first time you realized there was nowhere else for you to sleep than the singular king-sized bed in the center of the room. 

“No need to worry. We’re all adults here. There should be no issue sharing a bed.” Mihawk approaches you with two glasses of brandy in hand. “Feeling better?” He asks, almost playful. He extends a glass to you. 

You take it. 

“Aye. A bit.” You say as you take the glass of alcohol, your fingertips brushing against his as you grip the cup. Suddenly you were reminded of the last time you shared a drink with this particular man… 

Your cheeks flushed and you looked to the floor. You had been so caught up in the drama of being shipwrecked and half-dead that you had forgotten the last time you had seen Dracule Mihawk… 

“Why did you come here? Just to get me naked in your hotel room?” You ask. 

Mihawk turns his back to you and sits on the bed. 

“Oh darling, getting you naked was only part of my plan. You deal in arms… The Cross Guild happens to be in the market. I thought we could strike a friendly deal, little rabbit.” Mihawk sips his brandy. “We can offer triple whatever that scoundrel was willing to pay.” 

“Well the cargo has been lost since the ship crashed but… wait how did you know I’d be here? This island?”  You take a sip of you drink for courage. “You were accurate enough to know when and where I’d wash ashore? How?”

Mihawk smirks. He rises from the bed and fishes his hand into his trouser pocket. He steps closer to you. He pulls out a piece of soggy paper from his pocket and holds it in two fingers in front of your face. 

“You don’t remember slipping me this?” Mihawk coos as the scrap of paper drips a bit onto the floor in between you both. 

“My..” You gasp softly upon the realization of what he was holding in his hand.

“Yes, rabbit, your vivre card. You stuffed it into my jacket before you scampered off. You don’t recall?” Mihawk says, teasingly, cocking his head down to catch your avoidant gaze. 

It was all coming back to you now…

Five months ago…

It was a loud, shady pirate bar on some shit-hole island your crew had docked at to resupply. It had been days since your ship’s booze supply had run dry and you used the opportunity to get good and sauced at the local tavern. At some point in your revelry, Dracule Mihawk had entered the very same bar and somehow you ended up on his lap… despite how much you claimed you despised him. How did it happen? Maybe a few featherlight touches across your waist… maybe a few dirty little nothings whispered in your ear… but all you could remember now was you melted like putty in his strong arms in the corner of a filthy dive bar. The memory was foggy but you remember stroking the sides of Mihawk’s carefully groomed beard and pushed your lips onto his with passion… 

“You remember now, yes?” The voice snaps you back to the present. 

You say nothing, embarrassed. You take another large gulp of brandy. 

“I-I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” You rush past the large man in front of you and whip the comforter open. You slide in the bed. “W-we can talk business in the morning.” 

“If you wish.” Mihawk says with a sigh. 

Mihawk sets his glass down on the side table and extinguishes most of the candles in the room, leaving a few to burn to the wick overnight. You feel the comforter move across your body and the mattress beside you dip. You curl on your side away from the man laying beside you. You shudder, the chill of being nearly drowned still wracking your bones. 

“You’re freezing.” Mihawk states before smoothly shifting to his side and wrapping his arm around your side. Your body tenses and he feels it. “So shy now, but not as much the last time we met?” You feel his hot breath against your ear. 

“Well, we were drunk, so…” You huff out, trying to ignore the flush growing in your cheeks. 

“And yet…” Mihawk starts. He slides his hand down your bicep to your hip, then further down to your thigh. His palm reaches your knee and gently pulls on it to hook your leg over his own, successfully opening your legs up for him. “Here you are now, completely sober and still soft and open for me…” 

Your breath catches in your throat, unable to respond. Mihawk’s strong hand climbs up your torso again, this time gliding across your stomach and into your robe to grip your right breast softly. You gasp as he squeezes and runs his thumb across your nipple. 

You feel a gentle grind of Mihawk’s hips against your backside, shuddering as you distinctly make out the largeness of his member between your cheeks. The former warlord’s nose nuzzles your scalp sweetly as he presses his lips closer to your ear. 

“Do you feel that? I’ve been waiting so long since you ran away…” Mihawk whispers as he presses his hardened cock further into you. “Tell me… little rabbit… why did you run from me?” 

You press your ass back harder into Mihawk’s pelvis and whine. 

“No no, tell me. I was ready to take you to my chambers and ravish you until the sun rose….” Mihawk purrs as he slides his hand from your breast to between your legs and cups your mound. “Tell me why you fled my arms that night.” He presses his middle finger on your seam, gently stimulating your clit. 

“I… I don’t know…” You manage to croak out. 

“That isn’t true, darling… you know that.” Mihawk begins to rub your sex in gently circles with 3 fingers, softly encouraging you to give in to him. 

“I…I didn’t… want…” You sigh and lean your head back into Mihawks face. 

“You didn’t want what, love? Tell me.” Mihawk leans up further and kisses up your neck to the spot behind your ear. With your arousal growing,  he spreads your folds and uses a single digit to press into your exposed, throbbing clit. 

“Y-you were going to- Ah!” You were interrupted by the sensation of Mihawk dipping a finger shallowly into your hole to gather your wetness to smear across your clit, further heightening your pleasure. “You were going to leave… It- it would have- oh god!” You cry out as two thick fingers suddenly breach your entrance and curve right up into your sweet spot. 

“It would have bothered you to see me leave, little rabbit?” Mihawk teases and leans forward over your shoulder. He slowly pulls out his fingers before pushing them back inside to pull at your favorite spot again. He torturously slowly continues fingering you, feeling the way your insides pulse everything now and then around him, pushing out more of your slick to coat his hand further. “You think I would have let you go without me?” 

You turn your head and open your eyes. You meet Mihawk’s gaze from over your shoulder. You were half drunk on the feeling of his fingers inside of you, but you were almost certain he was confessing to you. 

“Y-you.. Shit- more… please…” You moan and buck your hips upwards into Mihawks hand, trying to get more stimulation. 

“Tch.” He clicks his tongue. “Sweet girl wants more? Already? You must have been thinking about this just as much as I have…” Mihawk says as he speeds up the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

The grind of his palm against your slick clit in combination of his fingers hammering up and down against your special spot quickly sent you careening over the edge of climax. 

“My Gods- Mihawk!” You cry out as you feel yourself gush against your lovers hand and your shoulders shudder forward. 

“There it is, what a good girl you are.” Mihawk slows the pace of his fingers and pulls them out of you gingerly. “I haven’t stopped thinking about the vulgar sounds and expressions you might make when you cum, and it’s far surpassed my imagination.” Mihawk shifts and positions himself on his knees between your legs. “Now let me see it again.” He rubs his tip up and down your wet slit, teasing his mushroom head at your hole. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you don’t and we go back to being adversaries and forget this ever happened.” He purrs down at you. 

“I.. I want this. Please…” You get out through shaky breaths, still recovering from your orgasm. You reach your hand down to wrap over Mihawk’s hand on his member, guiding him to push into you. 

“Anything you want, my rabbit.” He coos as he presses hard into your body, letting out a groan as he bottoms out against your cervix. You squeal and claw at his chest, cunt clenching around his length unpredictably. “Let me take care of you…” 

Mihawk wraps one arm around your torso to push you down further onto his cock while supporting himself with his other one. He leans down and smashes his lips into yours. He kisses you hard as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. You squeak against his lips each time his cock drags against your sweet spot, your body riding up further on the bed with every hard thrust into your sopping pussy. 

Mihawk pulls back. 

“I knew that night I was going to take you back with me. I’ve known for a long time that you were mine… but that night you slipped away…” Mihawk  huffs out down at you. 

You could do nothing but moan in response as you find yourself approaching your high once again. 

“Oh, fuck, oh!” Your mouth drops open as you cum, cradling Mihawk’s face against yours as you scream. Your hips buck and you whimper as your sensitivity starts to get the better of you. 

“You’re mine, y/n. Ah-“ 

With a final gasp and a hard thrust, you feel your lover flood your insides with his warm spend. 

You flinch a bit as you feel the still twitching cock slip from your hole, walls still so slick and sensitive. You were flipped around gently and pulled into Mihawk’s broad chest. You nuzzle sleepily between his pectorals. After several moments of comfortable silence, you break the peace. 

“There was never any business deal, was there?” You ask. 

“No of course not.” Mihawk says with a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

-- --

[sunshinescribes]

Sandcastle

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Summary: Crocodile has only ever known how to devour. Everything he wants, he consumes until there’s nothing left to take—but he can’t seem to get enough of you.

Warnings: SMUT! Obsessive behavior, hookplay, slight voice kink, overstimulation, creampie

Crocodile has only ever known how to devour.

He’s been gluttonous for as long as he can remember, his hunger an untamable beast incapable of being satiated. Everything he wants, he consumes until there’s nothing left to take.

And when he’s done feasting—when the euphoria finally fades and the empty feelings he’s always felt return—he searches for another sacrifice. He’s never satisfied.

Maybe that’s why you unnerve him.

Intrigue would be the better word, but there’s too much truth in it—a kind of vulnerability he refuses to acknowledge. Because then he would have to admit that you aren’t part of his plan to steal Alabasta. You aren’t a fly caught in the intricate web he’s masterfully weaved for years.

You’re an outlier—the one deviation he allows himself to indulge in, all while fearing that the deeper he sinks his teeth, the sweeter you’ll become.

“You’re quiet.”

Crocodile blinks as he’s ripped from his musings. His hooded eyes find you lounging comfortably on the settee across from him. The robe you’re wearing hangs low on your shoulders, causing the fabric to dip low enough to reveal the soft flesh of your breasts. His eyes must linger, because you lift your sleeves with an impish smirk.

Crocodile would laugh if his throat didn’t feel so dry—if he didn’t enjoy your soft teasing, this ability to act chaste as if he hasn’t had you writhing beneath him, debased in every conceivable way.

“Well, more quiet than usual,” you clarify.

Crocodile remains silent as you continue to stare. You’re subtle with your examinations, trying to decipher anything in his micro-expressions to gauge what you believe must be wrong, but he gives you nothing.

You see too much of him as is.

“There were pirates in Nanohana again,” he sighs. A cloud of smoke wafts from the cigar that dangles between his lips. “It’s becoming tiresome.”

The lie falls easily from his lips, just like the many others he has told over the years. False grandiose stories and faux acts of heroism that make him appear every part the savior, and never the villain that he truly is.

He can’t help himself, especially not when your eyes linger on his face with adoration, and something sweeter—something that drives him mad with how he can’t quite place it.

All he knows for certain is that nobody has ever looked at him the way you do, and like every precious thing in his life, he hoards. Your smile. Your laughter. The feel of your fingers tenderly tracing the scar on his face as you lay beside him. This is his—you are his, and he refuses to let go.

The rational voice in his head berates him, hisses about his ever-growing mistake. It demands that he be done with you for good, but the darkness inside of him rages at the thought.

He hasn’t finished consuming. He still wants more.

And you are always so eager to give.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask sweetly—so sweet that Crocodile almost misses how suggestive your inquiry is.

You hold his gaze, not backing down or shying away.

“To help relieve the stress?”

 You’re so thoughtful, even when you’re wrong. In anyone else Crocodile would find the characteristic annoying. He has condemned people for far less, yet he desires it from you—to know he is on your mind, that he occupies a space that nobody else does.

“C’mere," he commands, exhaling a final puff of smoke and tossing the used cigar into an ashtray as you lift from the settee.

He leans back in his chair. His legs instinctively spread as you draw near, making room for you to stand between them.

The back of his hook trails up your thigh, and Crocodile grins as you let out a soft sigh that is all too encouraging. You’re lovely like this, always so receptive to anything he chooses to give.

Goosebumps form across your exposed skin as Crocodile brings his hook higher, slipping beneath your robe and continuously rising until it rests between your breasts.

“First things first…” his voice trails off as his eyes lift to your face again.

Your breathing is shaky, but he sees no fear in your eyes. Only desire. The same, insatiable hunger that aches within him.

“Gotta get rid of this.”

Crocodile yanks his hook down, ripping your robe in one clean swipe. The fabric pools at your feet, all while Crocodile takes a moment to admire the sight before him. No matter how many times he sees you naked before him, it always feels like the first time—another unusual effect you have on him, but he’s too drunk on the need to have you to analyze it further.

His dick strains against his pants, begging to be buried in your warmth.

He pulls you onto his lap, and you know exactly what to do. It makes his lips curl into a sharp smile as you reach down, hands shaking while you unzip his pants and free him.

Crocodile grunts as your hands wraps around the hard flesh of his dick. You pump it slowly—so devastatingly slow that his hips jerk forward of their own volition, chasing the delicious friction that he craves.

Your finger swipes over the tip of his dick, precum staining your hand as you continue to jerk him off with slow, methodical movements that drive him mad.

“Enough,” he hisses, sounding almost pained.

He positions you above his throbbing dick, lining it straight with your dripping pussy—already slick with your own arousal.

He’s rarely gentle, and even less so now as he slams you down on his lap, burying himself to the hilt inside of your tight, aching cunt.

You let out a sharp gasp, blissed out by the feeling of being filled to the brim. Your velvety walls embrace him, keep Crocodile where you both need him, but he refuses to dwell.  

His hips snap forward as he pumps inside of you with fervor, creating a vicious rhythm that has you bouncing on his dick.

“C’mon, fuck me back,” Crocodile encourages with a deep groan.

Fuck, you love his voice and he knows it. Love the deep, fucked-out rumble against your ear while he’s deep inside of you.

“S-shit,” you whimper as you slam down on him.

You try to meet his thrusts, try to fuck yourself on his dick the way you know he likes, but he’s impossible to match right now.

You lean forward, slinging your arms around his broad shoulders as he continues to use you. You trail open-mouth kisses across his jaw, soft moans and gasps escaping your lips with each powerful push.

Crocodile tilts his head slightly, his eyes are heavier than usual as he glances down at you, watching the way his dick disappears inside of you. The squelch of your needy cunt is like music to his ears, only rivaled by the sweet sounds you always make for him.

And he wants more. He always wants more.

Crocodile is careful not to hurt you with his hook as his arms come around you, pulling you tight against his chest as his thrusts grow frantic.

You cry into his shoulder, your voice cracking while Crocodile pumps his dick deeper into your sopping pussy—pushing you to your limit. He relishes how badly you want it.

Not just your own release, but his too.

“That’s it gorgeous,” your pussy clenches around him, ripping a desperate groan from his throat.  “Tell me…how good it feels.”

“Croco—ah, fuck—” your breath catches as he hits a particularly sweet spot inside you. You can feel yourself getting close, nearly there, all you need is a little push.

You reach down, rubbing desperate circles around your throbbing bud.

“’S so good—you’re s-so go—"

Your voice cuts out with a squeak. Your eyes nearly cross as you fall over the edge, ecstasy ripping through you so violently you almost cry. You come hard, gasping and gushing all over his dick. You are certain his pants are stained with the evidence of your orgasm, but you don’t have the mind to be apologetic or ashamed.

Crocodile watches with wicked fascination at how your legs tremble, how your come drips down his body, darkens his pants. It takes everything in him not to lean down to your lips and silence your cries with his tongue.

His hold on your waist tightens as he fucks you harder, chasing his own release now that you’ve given him yours. You whine—no, fucking sob as his dick continues to pound into you.

“Say my name,” he rasps.

“C-crocodile.” You match his name with each powerful thrust, “Crocodile. Crocodile. Croco—”

He slams up into you one last time, losing himself. His head rolls back, fingers digging painfully into your flesh and his hook nearly scrapes your thigh. He curses—chokes out your name as he comes hard inside of you, damn near sees stars as he fills you up.

You clench around him with a pathetic whine and he almost fucking loses it all over again.

“Do…do you feel better now?” you ask softly, resting your head against his clothed chest.  

No, and he doubts he ever will. Not as long as you have this hold over him. The rational voice has gone silent—abandoned him completely— and only a single word is whispered in the dark crevice of his mind, chanted like a prayer.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

PART 2

[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: You tell Henry about your romantic feelings towards Peter Pan. Unfortunately for you, he turns out not to be Henry.

The citizens of Storybrooke gathered in Granny’s diner to celebrate. Most wore big jovial smiles and talked excitedly to their companions. You took note of the absolute happiness that seemed to radiate from David and Mary Margret. Nevertheless, their daughter was uneasy, as if she half expected the Pied Piper himself to waltz through the doors and rip her son’s heart out.

You felt sorry for Emma’s needless worrying, but understood where it stemmed from. After all, many restless nights would have to be endured before you forgot Pan’s threats in Neverland, not that you wanted to forget every single comment of his just yet. You pushed that particular thought back deep in your mind where it would have to be reconsidered later. You chose to focus on more trivial matters.

Hook was seated at the bar, drinking with the boisterous dwarves. It didn’t escape your notice how often his gaze flickered between the Savior and her ex-boyfriend; Neal left his place beside Henry to chat with Mother Superior. You eyed the pirate’s ill-natured manner with interest when Ruby interrupted your musings of his unfortunate predicament by placing a steaming mug of apple cider on the counter.

You accepted the hot beverage, maneuvering your way through the crowded restaurant and slid into the booth to sit across from Henry. His attention was directed to the storybook in front of him. Even upside down, you recognized the illustration of Cinderella dancing at the ball with her prince. Henry glanced up, seeming apprehensive at your arrival, he tensed for some strange reason. His fingers tapped the edge of the smooth paper.

You offered him a reassuring smile. It would be reasonable for his nerves to be a bit frayed after his harrowing adventure. You blew on your drink and asked in a quiet tone, “How’re you holding up?”

“Good. It’s good to be back here with my family.”

You nodded your head in agreement. That was the understatement of the year. The distress and danger he went through the past few days must have been unimaginable. People often said kids were resilient, however, it was odd how unfazed Henry was at being reunited with his loving family. Odder still was his cold and distant attitude towards you. This was the first genuine conversation you two had exchanged since his capture. It was unlike him to keep to himself for so long.

You were close friends and confidants. It was worrisome for Henry to be this reserved around you. What had happened in Neverland that would have caused such an abrupt change? The next second, you berated yourself for such a thought, having one’s heart torn out would have drastic mental consequences. It was possible he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings yet. On the other hand, it would be harmful if he kept them bottled up inside his mind to fester.

The best course of action was to respect his silence and hope in time he would open up. You took another sip of cider while Henry went back to reading. The message was clear; he had no interest in talking any further. The temptation to leave was strong, but you remained in your seat. There was a question you were desperate for Henry to answer, the sooner the better. You blurted out, “What was he like?”

He glanced at you again. “Who?”

“Peter Pan. What was he like? I only met him a handful of times on the island, and he was pretty intimidating. How did he act around you? I mean, Pan was deranged, how’d he manage to convince you to give up your heart?”

Henry shrugged and flipped a page before replying. “He told me magic was dying and my heart was needed to save it. I believed him. And he was…” Henry shivered a little. “He was scary. I’m glad he’s gone.”

You propped your elbows on the table and rested your chin in the palm of your hand, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Henry reached for his glass of root beer, refusing to utter one more word. You sighed, “Too bad he was a psychopath. Pan was kinda hot.”

Henry spat out his drink, spewing the soft drink all over the table and its contents. You grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed them on the storybook. “Henry, be careful you almost ruined it!” Emma paused speaking to her parents and shot you both a quizzical look. You waved the wet napkins at her, signaling everything was fine, only a little spill had happened.

“What did you say?” Henry wasn’t the least bit concerned about the precious book. His eyes were wide and his mouth somewhat agape.

“I know, I know, he was a murderer and evil and wanted to kill all of us. But in my defense, he was attractive.”

Henry said nothing for a solid minute, and stared at you as if an extra head had grown from your neck. You were beginning to worry that the poor boy’s brain had broken upon hearing your staggering statement.

As the seconds ticked by you began to regret saying your astonishing confession aloud. Your attraction to Pan was something you had been grappling with ever since laying eyes on him.

You shamed yourself for feeling this way toward such a revolting person, but that would not dampen them. During the adventure, it had been eating you alive from the inside out.

The rest of the group had been debating over the best way to save Henry, how to rescue Neal, and the complications of getting off the Island. Meanwhile, you had been battling the guilt of being enamored with your best friend’s captor.

Near the end of the journey, you made peace with this upsetting fact by realizing you could acknowledge Pan’s attractiveness and still hate his guts for kidnapping Emma’s son.

Though the shock on Henry’s face made you question the wisdom of admitting this so soon after the terrible ordeal. You were on the brink of explaining your more nuanced views to him on this delicate subject when his expression changed.

The corners of his lips turned upward in a disbelieving smirk as he raised one eyebrow in wonderment. He said in a soft voice, almost to himself, “You… like Pan?”

The grin spread wider across his face and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his laughter. His body shook in a fit of merriment. He pointed a finger at you; his eyes contained a mocking glint which was quite foreign to them. “You have a crush on Pan!”

You were uncomfortable at his reaction, but believed it was somewhat deserved. Gesturing to him to lower his voice, you attempted to hobble together a defense. “Not really a crush per say, I–”

Henry interrupted, “That’s so gross. He's– he’s Rumpelstiltskin's dad!”

“That’s true, but it just makes me wonder whether or not Mr. Gold was that good looking in his younger days,” you joked.

He shuddered at that remark and twisted his features into one of disgust. “Ew, I’ll never understand girls.” Puzzled at your stance on his villainous great grandfather, Henry probed, “Why did you like him?”

“Like is a strong word. I didn’t like him. He was gonna kill us all for Pete’s sake, but I did observe that Pan was blessed… genetically speaking.”

A mischievous air hung about Henry as he inched forward in his seat, tilting his head close to yours, and whispered in a low tone. “Tell me, do you fantasize about Peter Pan?”

Your mouth dropped open at his blunt question. You replied in a strained voice, “Henry, that’s a very inappropriate thing to ask.” What on earth had possessed him to say that?

Moments earlier, he was repulsed at the prospect of you harboring secret feelings for Pan and now he was inquiring whether or not you fantasize about his relative!

It was your turn for your brain to stop working. Henry had never, never asked you such a personal question in all your years of friendship. This was most unlike him.

Was there a chance he had bashed his head on a rock somewhere to justify this sudden change of personality? He leaned back into the booth. “That alone gives me my answer.”

Before you could chastise him for his nauseatingly smug attitude, Emma sauntered next to the table. “Sorry to break up the chit chat, kid, it’s time for something you didn’t have in Neverland. Bedtime.”

Henry closed his book, disappointed for having to leave so soon. You were quite relieved; however, sensing Henry was having far too much fun with this knowledge at his fingertips. You were too stunned at your friend’s response to see he had left with Regina and not Emma.

That conversation had left a bad taste in your mouth. Something wasn’t right with Henry and it made you uneasy. Regret at having confessed your passing fancy towards Peter Pan seeped through you. It could be that this Neverland escapade still had a few loose ends that needed to be tied up.

You help David and Emma cover Mother Superior's body with a blanket. You shoved your trembling fingers in your coat’s pockets. Your eyes darted up to the sky and scanned for any sign of the one who did this. You didn’t feel safe. At any moment you could meet the same fate as well. The danger was lurking around the corner and–

“What the hell happened?”

You jumped slightly as Regina and Henry raced up to your group.

David answered her. “The shadow, it killed her.”

“Pan’s shadow? I trapped it on the sail.” Regina was confused.

“Yeah, well, it got free.” Emma said while crouching on the steps.

Comprehension dawned on everyone as they realized what that meant. Pan was back. You moved to Henry and wrapped your arms around him in a protective gesture. All thoughts of last night's events flew from your mind.

If Pan was somehow controlling the Shadow from inside the box, then he would never stop terrorizing them until he had the Truest Believer’s Heart. Henry was going to die. The adults discussed what to do as you patted Henry on the head.

The boy said in a hollow voice, “So Pan can still hurt me?”

Regina responded to comfort him, “We don’t know that.” You knew it was inevitable he did though.

“But we have to assume he’s still a threat.” Mary Margret clasped her hands together in worry.

You added, “And that he’s after Henry.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Henry wriggled out of your grasp, looking anxious.

David said, “He’s right. He’s not safe out in the open.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” He hugged Regina as she consoled him.

You were put off at how easily he disregarded you in favor of his mother. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But of course, it was natural for a son to turn to his mom in his time of need.

You stopped scolding yourself when you overheard Emma tell Regina that Henry didn’t seem like himself. Your feelings of unease felt vindicated now if she was aware that her son was acting a bit different. It made your head spin; what could it mean?

After convincing Mr. Gold to give up Pandora’s Box, you all drove to the edge of Storybrooke. You huddled close to Mary Margret and David, watching the red smoke swirl out of the box.

It transformed into Pan, and Emma cocked her gun. Pan stood up, breathing hard, he acted confused, and dumbfounded to see everyone's mistrustful faces. You had to admit, he was a good actor. You couldn’t believe the next words that popped out of his mouth.

“Mum?”

Emma was also taken aback. “What?”

“What are you waiting for? Shoot him,” Gold ordered.

Pan panicked. “Don’t! Please! I’m Henry. Pan, he switched our bodies.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Emma continued pointing the gun at him.

You didn’t know what to think of this situation. You wanted to trust him. It would explain Henry's peculiar actions. The other, more cynical part, of your brain was reprimanding yourself for entertaining the outlandish idea.

Pan was a master manipulator, capable of slaughtering you and your loved ones in a millisecond if it benefitted him. He toyed with people’s minds and reveled in the horrible game of it. Your sympathetic side excused that truth when seeing Pan’s face. He was hurt and betrayed. Henry, you were sure it was him, needed a friend.

You almost took a step over the red line when Gold stopped you with his cane and said, “Don’t listen to him. This is one of his tricks.”

Pan/Henry was adamant. “No, it’s not! He did it right before Mr. Gold captured me in the box. I swear!” He stepped forward, but Emma stopped him.

Holding one hand out, she commanded, “Don’t come any closer.” Mr. Gold ordered her to shoot him again. She didn’t. “Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this feeling something’s off about Henry.” Mr. Gold argued with her, but Emma asked Pan to prove his claim.

He started listing facts about Henry. They weren’t persuaded by this. Emma stated, “Pan might know facts. But life is made up of more than that. There are moments. He can’t possibly know all of them. The first time you and I connected, you remember that? Not met, but connected.”

Pan’s face softened at the happy memory. He told her the conversation they had at his castle right after she came to Storybrooke. Emma lowered her gun and embraced him. “It is Henry.”

She released him and they crossed the line into Storybrooke. Henry hugged his grandparents and you soon followed. He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug which you returned with equal joy at having your friend back. It was a little weird since every sense told you this was to all intents and purposes Peter Pan. You pulled back to examine him.

Staring into his green eyes, you squished his cheeks. “This is so surreal.” You tapped his nose. “You really look like him, ya know.” Henry laughed, a delightful but bizarre sound coming from Pan’s throat. It was too innocent.

The full impact of what was happening hit you. You retreated a couple of paces from your friends, and hid your face as mortification overcame your entire being. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Henry put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your face felt ablaze. If Pan was Henry, that meant… “I might’ve– I didn’t know it was him!”

Mr. Gold urged you to go on. “Yes? What is it?”

You gulped as they came closer. “Last night at Granny’s, I told Henry—who I thought was Henry—that Pan was hot.”

Both David and Mary Margret closed their eyes in exasperation. Emma stared at you, questioning your sanity. Bell grinned, and to your surprise, Mr. Gold was unbothered by this. “How tragic. However, we have larger problems that must be dealt with other than your lack of taste.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything to me for saying that to him?” You asked Henry. He had smirked at your confession, which had made your heart beat faster at the sight. You wanted to slap yourself for that reaction. Now he frowned at your inquiry.

“I don’t know. Pan might not care or he might target you because of it. Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop him.”

You climbed into the truck’s backseat. The sinking sensation settled in your stomach despite Henry reassuring you everything would turn out for the better. Peter Pan had a plan and it would lead to everyone’s ruin. Your only hope was that he wasn’t concocting a special method of torture for you since laying open your abashed feelings towards him.

(The previous night)

In the body of his grandson, Pan walked arm-in-arm with Regina down the sidewalk to her home. It was loathsome having to humor the woman while she talked to whom she believed was her son. He answered her relentless questions to the best of his ability, keeping his replies vague and unassuming.

She didn’t seem to heed his noncommittal responses. He was impatient for this part of his scheme to be done. He restrained his strong desire to kill her this instant because he had to find her vault first. Pan distracted himself from that impulse by thinking of what you had told him.

It would be beyond humiliating for you when you found out the truth. He couldn’t wait to see your gobsmacked expression when he revealed his true identity, and made Storybrooke into the New Neverland.

Peter Pan would make you regret ever spilling your secrets to him. He was eager to make you into his new plaything, to see how long it took you to cry, to break. He wondered how far over the edge he could drive you. Grateful for the limited light, he allowed a cruel, sadistic smile to form on his lips. This was all too perfect and pleasurable for him.

[lightwise]

The Sun Also Burns

gifs by @amiracleilluminated. Dividers by @dystopicjumpsuit

Come get your (very) late dinner with a side of Jod Juice. 'Tis very long, so read on AO3 here if you prefer.

Jod Na Nawood/Original Character. Character Study, Post-Finale, Canon compliant.

Words: 8,792

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Here be smut, your friendly neighborhood star wars pirate, we could fix him but it's better if he fixes himself, emotional angst, emotional sex, PinV (wrap it up kids), oral sex, vaginal sex, hurt/comfort/and then hurt again, light hand on the neck/choking mention, past character death referenced, kidnapping mentions, swearing/foul language, emotional baggage, Jod has spent his whole life running and he doesn't know how to stop now, unhealthy coping mechanisms, mutual pining, oh and did I mention the emotions

Summary: Jod managed to escape the Supervisor’s tower, his choices and life path now open before him. But he can’t escape his past, his demons–or an unexpected reunion. Will he finally grasp onto the pinpricks of light trying to break through his darkness? Or will he make another trip around the void he’s been circling before he’s willing to change his ways?

Notes: This came to me in a dream. Literally. 

Well, the diner scene did. Everything else is just an attempt to justify the ever expanding black hole labeled “Jod” that Jude Law (bless that man) and Skeleton Crew (bless everyone involved in this show) have introduced to my brain. 

Also, the belt buckle took on a life of its own before I went back and realized that Jod doesn’t have it in the first episode. I can’t tell if it was Rennod’s or someone else’s, but regardless, I put too much work into certain headcanons to change them now 😅. Fun fact though, everything else toward the end of this fic is actually canon (check out the book Choose Your Destiny: A Luke and Leia Adventure), and I was thrilled that my character and Jod ended up slotting in perfectly. 

You sighed as you picked up a napkin and wiped your mouth carefully at the corners. The clinking of silverware and buzzing of the overhead lights created a low level hum in the background, just enough to make a conversation feel private without having to yell across the melamine tables. The neighborhood diner had been the first place to reopen after the chaos on At Attin that evening, after a rerouted electric track was restored down the block.

It seemed like a fairly dull but cozy place on the best of days, but now it was jam packed with server droids, neighbors gathering around in gossiping circles, and the sizzling of frypans serving up every fried food imaginable.

Everyone was famished for both food and community after the once-in-their-lifetimes excitement of a pirate invasion, the destruction of the Barrier that had kept their planet hidden for centuries, and the arrival of New Republic X-Wings in its stead. The place remained packed even as the hours dragged on into the early morning. The saviors of the day—Wim, Fern, KB, and Neel, along with their parents—had made their rounds earlier, but had since gone home. The kids' faces were alight with excitement and pride, neighbors and Republic pilots alike shaking their hands and clapping them on the back.

You knew there would be no sleep for them tonight, no matter how dedicated their parents were at herding them home after one too many yawns had split their faces. A small, nostalgic smile appeared on your own, hidden behind the smooth white barrier of the napkin. Oh to be young and full of unbridled optimism again. You hoped that they never outgrew it.

A deliberate cough from the man sitting across from you broke through your thoughts, prompting an irritated eye roll in response. He was the exact opposite of what you hoped for those kids—the pirate currently in your custody had lost his last ounce of innocence long ago, if he ever had any in the first place. 

Handcuffed, hemmed in on each side by an imposing security droid, with one of the fighter pilots standing behind the booth waiting for your release, he still exuded a sense of boyish arrogance that you begrudgingly admired. He was practically lounging, for Force’s sake, his legs spread, the tails of his army green coat draping casually around his thighs and over the plasticine bench.

Jod’s face was arranged in an adequately contrite frown, but you knew him better than that. Forcing your eyes back onto your plate, you scooped up another bite of hashed potatoes into your mouth. You just wanted sustenance to fuel what was sure to be a long ride back to the embassy. Dealing with this perpetually scheming bastard had not been on your radar for tonight.

“Sooo…” his lilting voice drifted across the table. “How have you been?”

You barely restrained a scoff. “You are seriously not trying to do small talk right now.” Lifting your gaze, you saw that he had steepled his fingers together (as best he could with the chains hampering his wrists), elbows laying claim to the table and his head cocked slightly to the right. The classic Jod smirk just barely stretched the corners of his mouth.

“Isn’t that what two old friends are supposed to do when they have a chance to…how do they call it? Catch up with each other?” His eyes gleamed, though not with sincerity. Beneath the charming veneer and polite cooperation, the desperate calculations of a man who was caught, but had not surrendered, were whirring in the shadowed lines of his face.

“We are not catching up,” you frowned at him. “Your actions have caught up with you, and you alone.” You swallowed the last bite and scraped the fork harshly across the edge of your plate, hoping it would make him flinch. It didn’t.

“And of course,” you continued, exaggerating the disappointment lacing your words, “once again, Kh’ymm and I have to pick up the pieces of the chaos you unleash.” You slid your plate to the edge of the table as a server droid passed by, not bothering to turn your head.

“I really should be charging you a transport and protection fee every time I have to drag your sorry ass across the galaxy. Add on the multiple bounties on your head, and now charges of abduction and endangerment of children? Not to mention trying to take over an entire planet??” You clicked your tongue like an angry mother kroop bird.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

His answering laugh built on itself until the smirk spread through his cheeks and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The energy rolling off of him felt frayed around the edges.

“Ahh, still as passionately eloquent as ever, my dear.” Despite yourself, your heart gave a faint clench at his choice of endearment. “I truly must have caused quite the stir if you came out all this way to deal with me personally.”

“That was not a compliment.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Well, that’s true for one of us then,” he winked back. “You’ve got yourself a fancier gig than I realized. They must put a lot of trust in you.”

You ignored the slight ache in your chest. The attempted banter and familiarity threatened to spark memories that were best left untouched. Ones you thought you had left rotting in a corner, like a pirate’s forgotten carcass, speared through the heart, buried alive. Never to be seen again.

“Have you really been this bored? Trying to rack up a sheet that rivals Gorian Shard?”

He shook his head slightly, the thin smile still stretching across his face, eyes sweeping over every inch of yours.

“Or have you truly become something this cruel?”

The smirk vanished instantly. His mouth drooped, eyes gleaming still, but this time with something brittle, bitter, and desperate.

“That’s not…ugh…I didn’t…” he trailed off in frustration, silently begging you to understand.

“I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

You studied him silently for a moment before scooting sideways off the bench and rising to your feet.

“You never do.”

A flicker of anguish overtook the pirate’s face as you nodded at the pilot to take him away. The crack in the facade almost gave you pause, but the glint of sincerity was lost as his usual mask slammed back into place.

“No, no, no, wait! I can explain…”

The droids grabbed his arms and hauled him roughly to his feet as the pilot began to maneuver them towards the door.

“I had to see if the legends were true! And I needed the credits…my crew needed the credits. We didn’t mean any harm…agh!”

One of the droids clamped onto his arm, shutting him up for a brief moment. The five of you made your way out of the crowded diner, the smell of hot caf fading into crisp night air. Only the soft sound of chirping crunch bugs interrupted your measured footsteps.

The Corellian embassy corvette you had arrived in loomed ahead. The August Prime, while not officially yours, had become somewhat of a home the last few years. She was a little weather beaten from the war, but a new coat of paint and the occasional tune up had made her quite serviceable for emissary trips, and both Chancellor Mothma and Senator Leia Organa had made sure that it was available whenever you were called upon to represent the New Republic (and by extension, them) across the galaxy. 

Your career (you were still surprised it could be called that at this point) had started when you were young, taking whatever jobs you could find in order to survive. You quickly found that you had a knack for translation, bargaining, and brokering deals, and you made a name for yourself as a reputable goods and antiquities dealer–serving a rather diverse client base, as you liked to put it. You were nowhere near the league of legendary dealers in the Core Worlds like Luthen Rael, but your willingness to work with anyone who would abide by guild laws gave you a wide variety of contacts.

After the war, you had transitioned into being an ambassador for the New Republic, serving as a liaison between the fledgling government and the thousands of planets it sought to rebuild. In your previous life, you had often joked that you were far too addicted to a hot shower to indulge in a true pirate’s lifestyle, but really your morals were a touch too scrupulous to ever let yourself linger in filth for too long. That fact, along with your connections to pirates and politicians alike–and every class in between–made you an invaluable representative. 

Sometimes a true friendship sprang up along the way, like the one you developed with the owl-ish navigational wizard, Kh’ymm. Occasionally, you found something a little more than just friendship. 

And once or twice, a lot more, if you were honest with yourself. 

Which explained the current tension running like a live wire between you and the slightly cowed, but unbroken man in front of you. The droids were heading toward the August’s boarding ramp, and you could tell by the tilt of the closely-cropped head in between them that the pirate was staring quizzically into the dark hold, as though hoping the fate that awaited him on board that vessel would suddenly blink, and miss him.    

Your stomach gave an unexpected churn. You had to see his face again.

“Jod.” It came out as a whisper.

He stopped completely, limbs rigid, back straight. The droids were forced to stop with him. 

It was the first time you had said his name aloud in years.

Willing your legs to move again, you circled until you were facing the man you had once given a piece of your heart. Or had he stolen it? You were never quite sure. All you knew was that ultimately, what he truly treasured had never been you. 

“I know you’ve seen the inside of prison cell after prison cell.” Your voice was low as you reached out your hand and cupped the side of his face gently in your palm. 

“Until you’re free of the one in here,” you tapped your finger slowly against his temple, “nothing is ever going to change.”

His eyes grew wide and heartbreakingly solemn. You couldn’t miss the tremor in his throat, nor the subtle lean he made into your hand. 

As his lips parted, you almost held your breath. But no sound came out. After a moment of those storm-colored eyes staring straight into your soul, you let go and reluctantly moved up the gangway. You didn’t look back. 

******

An hour later, you were finally back in your quarters and slumped wearily in a chair. After debriefing your captain and copilot, recording a quick message to send to Mon’s secretary ahead of your arrival, and signing off on the path back to Coruscant the ship would take in the morning, you had beelined straight for your suite and locked the door behind you. 

Glancing at your desk, you caught sight of your daily log laying haphazardly in the corner, neglected after the unexpected distress call from Kh’ymm had come in. You couldn’t believe she hadn’t told you that Jod had shown up on her doorstep several weeks before, and with four bedraggled children in tow. There hadn’t been time to argue about that, however. Having heard from one of the children–KB, you believed it was–that a group of pirates had both found and infiltrated At Attin, an old Republic mint most people in living memory had never even heard of, it was clear that a squadron had to be sent, and quickly. A call to Leia and an emergency page alert to Mon, and you had been reassigned and on your way, though you hung back a little from the fighters to give them room to do their jobs. The August Prime had quite a few turbo lasers on her, but you had no interest in serving as a blockade runner unless it was necessary.

When you showed up to one (large, but still outmanned and outgunned) pirate frigate, a population who had never seen an X-Wing before (or stars, for that matter, as you later found out that evening), and a suspiciously familiar pirate captain who was nowhere to be found, you wanted to adopt the pirate code and throw someone–preferably him–out of an airlock. 

Although the battle itself was short lived, you were wholly unprepared for the chaos that followed. At first intending to remain on the planet to establish ties to the administration there, you quickly realized that the myth behind the lost planet of At Attin, versus the reality of the sequestered population having lived their lives under the control of a well meaning, but automated central computer system, was going to require more effort than anticipated.

After talking with Undersecretary Fara, whose daughter Fern was one of the children involved in this debacle, you decided to deal with the meddling pirates first, report back to Coruscant with a sample of the solid gold credits At Attin had been sequestering all these years, and then return with a few colleagues to establish further relations. You had a feeling you might even be bringing Fara and Fern with you on one of your trips–Fern’s inquisitive nature and brash confidence reminded you of yourself, at that age. You were interested to see what some encouragement might do for the girl’s prospects, along with the other kids, as well. You had noticed Wim almost jumping out of his skin with excitement when talking to one of your fighter pilots, while Neel just seemed to be relieved to be back with his siblings and parents on solid ground. 

KB, for her part, had explained to you in less than two minutes the elaborate systems that powered the money making machine at the core of the planet. A mere fraction of the wealth found in those vaults now lay on your desk, the pile of gold dataries glittering in the low lamp light. After her explanation, you had asked to be taken down into the vaults in order to collect a small sample you could bring to the Senate for inspection. 

While leaning over the platform, the two of you waiting for the service droids to return with the chest you had provided, KB had suddenly gasped, her visor flipping down as she spotted movement further along one of the air shafts. A series of shouts floated down to both of you as a scuffle took place. It looked like some of your guards had caught another intruder. 

“It’s him.” Her voice was soft and quiet. Almost disappointed.

“Who?” You turned to the slim girl, wondering at the change in her demeanor.

“The man who helped us…and then betrayed us.” Her shoulders slumped a little. “The captain.” 

Alarm bells were ringing in your head. KB hadn’t given a name, and there had been no designators on the frigate that caught your eye. But a slight tug in your gut warned you who you were about to face, even as one of your men reported over the comm. 

“We captured the instigator, your excellence!”

You braced yourself as the platform rose back to the surface. It felt like an eternity, but really it was only a few moments before the somewhat pathetic excuse for a pirate–his grimy blue shirt and tattered coat snapping in the wind as he struggled–was thrust in front of you. 

You raised your head slowly, the world tilting off-kilter as you came face to face with a soft smirk and a pair of intense blue eyes you had never expected to see again. The air between you shimmered with recognition. 

******

Joints aching, you eased yourself up and toward the ‘fresher. There was no use in dwelling on the past now. Or the man currently chained up in the hold of this very ship. You stopped in front of the mirror and let out a low groan, grimacing at the strained lines that had etched into your forehead. You thought about washing off the grime of the last twelve hours, but you honestly weren’t sure you could stay upright much longer. 

Deciding to forego a shower, you shuffled over to your bed and began changing into a set of night clothes. You had just started to relax when you heard a faint knock and then a scuffling noise at your door. Then another knock, slightly louder this time.

You groaned again. Who could possibly still be needing your attention at…well, you didn’t want to look at the chrono and find out.

Muttering several choice curses under your breath, you crossed the room and swiped the latch on the door, ready to chastise whoever stood on the other side. But the words died in your throat as it slid open.

The figure in front of you slipped through, silent as a shadow, punching the lock on the door as it closed behind him. A scarf obscured his face (had that been on him the whole time? you distantly wondered), but that didn’t stop every nerve in your body from screaming in recognition once more. 

Before you could utter a sound, he pressed a gloved finger to your lips. That touch alone was enough to send tremors through your limbs, and he took advantage of your shock to push you slowly back across the room.

Your lips opened and closed helplessly, the cut of his coat brushing against you and the sway of his boots on the floor disintegrating any words that tried to make it past your throat. Even in the dim light, you could see his eyes twinkling with mischief like you remembered, two shining pinpricks in an otherwise dark galaxy.  

And they were utterly fixated on the curve of your mouth. 

Fuck.   

He stopped a few feet from the patch of wall between your bed and your desk, breaths coming heavily as he tore the scarf down from his face. He stared straight through you, as though he was trying to decide exactly what it was that he wanted to do. 

You couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes dropped to the chiseled edge of his mouth, remembering the insistent way those delicate, full lips used to drag against your own. 

You gulped at the memory, and his gaze shifted to track down every inch of your throat.

Before you could blink he slammed you hard into the wall, hand grasping your jaw tight, lips crushing yours in a bruising kiss. They were warmer than you remembered.

A startled, but pleased moan made its way up your throat, and just as you began to feel lightheaded, he pulled back a few centimeters. A soft gasp escaped you as he changed course, his scruff brushing against your cheek as feather light kisses tracked down the side of your jaw, in sharp contrast to the ferocity with which he had just claimed your mouth. A pleasant hum began to settle in your blood.

You knew he had seen the chest of gold gleaming on your desk. You knew that nothing good could come of this. And yet this wasn’t just a distraction, wasn’t just another calculated ploy for him to find a way to escape. Against all odds, you knew that too. 

Jod made his way back to your lips, letting just the tip of his tongue flick over you before he pulled back completely. You were stunned at how…open he looked, the lamp on your desk gently caressing the side of his face. There was no mask, no pretense in his gaze. Just a quiet, wistful seriousness that you had rarely seen before. A hint of boyish desperation, too.

“One last romp?” His voice was smooth, head cocked a little to the right in that endearingly smug way of his, but you could feel the tension strung like a wire underneath.

You shook your head, chuckling under your breath at his audacity. “You are crazy, Jod.”

He simply continued staring at you, one hand making its way to your waist and resting lightly on the jut of your hip bone, thumb beginning to draw slow circles.

You let out a huff of resignation, your fingertips trailing over the tight line of his jaw. “Only if you brought condoms.” You were only half joking.

Something like relief flashed across his face. “You know I always do,” he smirked in return.

You rolled your eyes at that. “The one thing you’re reliable for.”

A flicker of real hurt sparked in his eyes, simmering into frantic desperation. You could sense that something fragile underneath was screaming for his attention, even as he still couldn’t bear to let it have control. 

“You really are…something, my dear,” he rasped, his nostrils flaring as frustration mixed with admiration. 

Your eyes softened as they passed over his hardened features. He had aged since the last time you saw him, fine lines in places they hadn’t been before. Heavy shadows hung under his eyes, and his shortened hair was touched with grey. But the green and brown flecks that danced in his irises held the same warmth as always, glimmers of unspoken affection swirling you into their bright orbit.  

“So are you.” And you meant it.

You surged forward, capturing his mouth for your own, needing to taste him. His muffled gasp curled over your wandering tongue as you asked for entrance, thrilling at the feeling of his fingertips scraping up the sides of your waist. Grasping the high collar of his coat, you tugged it sideways, trying and failing to pull it down his shoulders. 

He chuckled at your sudden insistence, his tongue licking against yours. Lazily plundering the roof of your mouth, he awkwardly shifted one arm out of the fabric only to wrap it immediately around your waist, doing the same with the other as he let the rest of the coat fall. 

Heat pooled in your belly as he pulled you tight against him, the familiar ridges of his Quarran forged belt buckle digging into your flesh. He had shoved his leather gloves into his pocket, leaving his rough, sensitive fingers free to trace mesmerizing patterns over your thighs and hips. It almost tickled through the fabric of your dressing gown.  

Groaning as your teeth caught on his swollen lip, he reached lower and grabbed the backs of your thighs, dragging you roughly up the wall until he could wrap them around his waist. Taking a moment to adjust his stance, he pulled at the edge of your gown until it fell to the side, letting the tips of his fingers drag along your skin, all the way up to your breast. Your back arched in anticipation.

You felt the air punch out of your lungs at a sudden tilt of his hips, almost choking at the feeling of his half-hardened cock now pressing urgently against the warmth of you. He managed to graze his thumb across your nipple at the same time, and your jaw dropped as a jolt of electricity went straight to your cunt.      

“You still like that, huh,” he gave you a cheeky grin.

“I’m surprised you remember,” you retorted, flushing as you tried to hide just how much it affected you.

“I remember everything,” he replied earnestly. Sweetly. “You know I don’t fuck around, unless I have to, or I want to.” His other hand shifted slightly to keep you in place, the one on your breast teasing light, reverent circles. 

“And which one was I?” You breathed, struggling to keep your composure.

“Both.” His eyes bored into yours. “Always both.” 

Your heart stuttered, and you traced one hand slowly up the subtle angles of his chest, letting your fingers tangle in the patch of hair that tumbled over his open shirt. Clasping the other tightly behind his neck, you tugged him back against you, and he groaned in satisfaction. The heat of his mouth against yours was the only thing you wanted to feel in that moment. 

****** Jod couldn’t believe he was actually here, standing in your quarters, his belt unclasped and your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. 

He had to choke down a maniacal laugh when he first saw your face on that platform. 

Of course.

He knew that a CR90 had shown up after his frigate had been pummeled to the ground, had seen it appear in the newly dark sky as he escaped the Supervisor’s tower and made his way down to the vaults. But not on the wildest bet would he have considered that you might be inside. 

He had hoped for a clean getaway. Salvage a few dataries, pick up whoever else had escaped, and hightail it to a distant port to nurse his latest defeat in a strong bottle or two. Carefully try to ignore the long-buried wound that Wim’s unexpected concern for him had prodded. It was the only way he had survived this long.

And then you had appeared in front of him, and that ache cracked open wider than an entire kriffing galaxy spinning in orbit.  

There was nothing the universe loved more than reminding him of his failures.

Your hands were inching their way along his back, attempting to lift up the hem of the threadbare shirt he had pilfered off the floor of the Onyx Cinder. He knew what you wanted but he couldn’t bear to separate from you long enough to accommodate the motion. 

He had almost forgotten how good you tasted. The room threatened to spin around him as he breathed in your warm scent, heard the familiar gasps in your throat, felt the delicate pull of your fingers. The taste of your lips was intoxicating, but he needed more. 

He wanted to drown himself in you. 

Reluctantly straightening, he bowed his shoulders to heft you higher under his arms, clicking his tongue in amusement as you tensed with the fear that he might drop you. Crossing the extra few feet to your bed, he carefully tilted you back on the mattress, one hand still greedily grasping at your waist as he scrambled to kick off his tall boots. 

Normally pants and shirt would have followed too, and your hands had already reached for the hems again, but he was too impatient. He grabbed your wrists as they inched lower and pressed them together, fingers locking around the fragile bones. Pulling them up and crossing them over your chest, he held them gently in place, shaking his head in warning. 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, and he relished in the way your eyelids fluttered as he lowered his gaze to your chest, slowly sweeping his other hand down until he came to the ties still holding your robe loosely together.  

“On, or off?” His voice was gentle, interested. You nodded. “Off then.”

His hand moved quickly, unlacing the ties and brushing the garment aside. Releasing your wrists, he lowered his face until his nose dragged against your sternum, licking and sucking his way across your salty skin. His pebbled tongue scraped roughly over one nipple and you arched against him, your throat and chest gleaming in the lamp light. His cock twitched as your hips squirmed beneath him, and he laved over your nipple one more time before making his way down your stomach.

He could smell your arousal as he kissed along the groove of your hips, and he grinned at the sight of just how soaked you already were.

“All this for me?” He teased, eyes narrowing in amusement as he glanced up at you. 

“I don’t think you need me to inflate that head of yours any further,” you quipped back, pretending to scowl as he carefully slid your underwear off your legs and onto the floor. You had missed this ridiculous banter.

“Oh, but I really think I do,” he winked, his smile fading as he closed his eyes and breathed you in. Head dipping, he kissed softly up your thigh until you were squirming, silently begging him to move closer.

Digging his fingers into your hip, he finally let his tongue take what it wanted, reaching out with just the tip to tease your folds before fully diving in. You were soaking wet, your lips slick and dripping onto his chin as he drank you in. Letting his tongue wander, he reached up and cupped a breast with one hand, the other holding your hip secure against the mattress.  

Wonderful. You were wonderful. Your taste was so sweet and rich. You filled his palm perfectly. Memories began to trickle back, unbidden, as he pulled you even closer and dipped his tongue into your pussy just to feel you quiver. Days spent arguing over the worth of his latest finds, your smile smooth and eyes filled with a challenge that he could never back down from. Nights spent mapping each other’s bodies while spinning dreams of exploring the galaxy. Sitting side by side, hours whiled away but never wasted. One of the few gleams in an otherwise dim existence. 

Suddenly he felt one of your hands curl over his head, brushing softly against his hair as you sought to anchor yourself in his presence. The motion was comforting at first, a slight tension in his scalp soothed by the tips of your cool fingers. 

Until a jarringly recent memory launched a mutiny in his mind–the sensation of his head bowing under the cascade of a very different kind of lust earlier that evening.

The waterfall of credits. A room literally bursting with the golden light of limitless wealth. A life-long dream–no, need–finally come true.

He had the sickening feeling that after today, the pursuit of security he so ravenously clung to now felt more like an anchor that was dragging him down faster than any shipwreck. Shackles too thick for him to casually break, unlike the handcuffs he had disengaged twice already with a subtle flick of the Force. 

No. No, no, NO. He shook his head in frustration, biting roughly down on your thigh in a futile attempt to disguise his own contradictions. He wasn’t just thirsty. He was hungry. He always had been, and here you were willingly satiating him, and he wanted it to be enough. Needed it to be enough. You deserved everything he had to give.

And everything he couldn’t. 

Shifting your leg at the knee, he rutted his shoulders under you and lifted you to his face again, devouring you like the starving man he was. Your back arched, your hands clenching helplessly as your nerves trembled from his onslaught. He focused on your clit, easing one finger, and then two, into your warm depths as he sucked, feeling your hips buck against him like he knew they would. 

He pulled you closer, ignoring the pulsing in his own groin, fingers relentless in the pursuit of your pleasure. He chased every twitch, every moan, feeling your walls tighten until finally, with a wrench of his knuckles, it was enough. He shivered as your taste flooded his mouth, gratified to hear the whimpers leaving your throat as he flattened his tongue and licked you clean. 

He didn’t come up for air until he realized your hands were tugging at him, begging him to slow, the pressure now too much. Catching one of them in his, he gently kissed your knuckles in acknowledgment. The cool air shifted against his back as he disentangled himself, and it suddenly registered just how tight and uncomfortable his clothes had become. They were practically soaked through from his efforts. He gave you a quick smile and sat up, peeling off his shirt and pants haphazardly before crawling back over to you and flopping down with a sigh.

******

Still trying to catch your breath, you reached down and ran your hand lightly over him, admiring the view you had been craving since the moment he stepped through your door. His wiry, lithe frame had always held good muscle, and the curve of his ass against your palm was a comforting weight. He would never know just what the sight of him with his mouth buried between your legs meant to you. 

Your lips pursed as your heartbeat began to slow. You hadn’t missed the earlier shift in his mood, but you decided not to question it. You just ached for him. 

“Was anything on you actually yours? Besides the belt,” you gestured at the glint of his buckle half buried under the pile of clothes now strewn on the floor. His weapons had all been confiscated, but even those had been borrowed or stolen. “Oh, and your coat, of course.” 

He paused for a moment, his lips tilting in a smirk. “Well, I would say this is,” he gestured down at his stiff, aching cock nestled against your thigh. “But I’m afraid that belongs to you at the moment.” Once the words left his mouth, he realized how little of a joke it actually was. 

“Oh really?” You couldn’t help but laugh gently, and he looked almost relieved. “Well, that’s nice to know.” 

Your fingers trailed lower, relishing the way he began to squirm as the back of your fingers brushed over his stomach, his hair, and lower until they finally whispered teasingly over his shaft. His jaw clenched, a half smile belying the slight shake of his head. 

“Careful,” he rasped, eyes easing shut as you took him fully in hand. You rubbed your thumb gently over the velvet skin, humming a little as he curled into you, chasing the sensation. Pulling long, smooth strokes, you reacquainted yourself with his thickness, the veins running up the side, the way he curved as he hardened in your fist. 

His jaw slackened a little as you picked up the pace, and you shifted yourself so that you could lean over and still look up at him. Pausing, you ran your knuckles lightly over him again and waited until he opened his eyes, and then slowly, you let your face hover over him, lips parting, until you felt him throb in anticipation. Gripping him tightly, you reached out your tongue and licked. First a quick swipe of his tip, and then letting your tongue circle his head, savoring his salty taste. You licked a wide, slow stripe up his shaft, and then welcomed him into the heat of your mouth with a rhythm of pumps and licks, a groan occasionally escaping him at the twists of your hand. 

A glance caught him biting his lip, eyes half-lidded, and you smirked as you leaned down, mouth wide, and took him in as far as you could, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. Your nose just barely brushed against the curls at his base. 

“Hhhah, wait, wait,” he gasped, reaching down and fiercely gripping your chin to haul you up and off of him. His eyes were wild. Your teeth scraped against him in the process and you almost thought he would come right then and there.

He flipped you over, pulling you up to the top of the bed, and it was your turn to whimper at the feel of his teeth as he mouthed along your neck. Grabbing the packet he had set on your bedside table, he pulled away just long enough to sheath himself before crowding you with his hips. He kissed you deeply, reaching down and lining himself up to sink into you, slowly at first, and then all at once.

Every muscle thrummed at the stretch of him, and you closed your eyes as you felt your walls pulse, willing yourself to relax. It was almost overwhelming, the teasing pace he set, deliberately keeping you both at the edge. You moaned helplessly. There was something about him that could reach places in you that no one else could. 

He closed his hand around your throat and your eyes flashed, the slight pressure on either side of your neck heightening every sense. You were so close. 

“I need you to come on my cock”, he growled, almost breathless from the heat of you. “Need you…to…” his hips faltered for a moment. “Give me one more, pretty girl.” 

You murmured something he couldn’t quite catch. He released your neck and moved his thumb to meticulously explore the curve of your collarbone, letting you both catch your breath.

“What was that?” 

A small, teasing smile crept onto your face. 

“Yes sir.” Your voice was light and airy. 

His eyes widened comically, his hips stuttering with unexpected violence. That was…oh, that was…

Before he could muster any scrap of control, your hips snapped up in desperation to meet his, giving him room to slide one hand under your sacrum, fingers nestling in the indents on either side. 

Your fingertips clung to the planes of his shoulders, traced the cage of his ribs in a plea no words could convey. He couldn’t leave you wanting. 

“You can let go.” Your whispered release floated into his ear.

“I need you with me.” 

Shoving one elbow down for support, he twisted his thumb over your clit, gathering your slick in calculated circles and pressing, begging you to follow him into the void, to yield to the burst of heat flaring down your spine. 

Until with a few staggered gasps, you both fell over the edge in a pulsing surrender. 

******

Once breath settled back into your lungs, you rolled over and reached for him across the tangle of sheets, your heart catching as he turned to you with a languid, peaceful smile. 

“Sorry for the mess.”  

‘I mean, there’s ways to deal with that.” Your eyes glinted with mischief. Flipping onto your stomach, you flicked your tongue over him and then moved to take him back into your mouth. 

His hand flew to your head. “I wouldn’t do that…unless you want a repeat.”

You pulled off and gave him a sweetly innocent grin. “I have a perfectly good shower right there, if you’d prefer that instead.” 

“Are you calling me dirty?” he scoffed.

You slid off the bed and sauntered through the room, pausing at the ‘fresher door. “Very,” you winked. 

He groaned, head in his hands, before forcing himself up. A persuasive glint filled his eyes as he caught you by the waist and pulled you into the shower, muffling your laughter with determined lips. 

******

You both collapsed back on your bed, cleaned off and utterly spent. You were shocked that you hadn’t fallen asleep standing up. 

Jod wrapped himself around you, chin tucked against your shoulder, legs slotted between yours. You were savoring how the two of you fit together, limb against limb, and you let your hand wander up and down his back in a soothing sweep. 

You were about to drift off when you remembered something you had been meaning to ask. 

“So, how did you actually get up here? Don’t tell me I need to completely overhaul my security systems.” Your voice was thick with drowsiness.

He snorted. “I mean, I’m sure your crew is doing their best,” a flippant wave contradicting the sentiment until a yawn interrupted him. “But you seem to have forgotten that I’m quite capable of getting myself out of handcuffs when the situation requires.”

You slowly smiled. You had spent more than one night taking advantage of that fact in the past, though it apparently had slipped your mind since then. 

“Guess I need to start hunting for some of those old repression binders that could keep Force users in line if this is going to become a regular occurrence.”

You knew it was a horrible joke before it even left your mouth, and you belatedly winced, holding your breath as Jod stilled beside you. 

But his response was not the rebuke you expected. 

“I…” he cleared his throat, his voice muffled against the side of your arm. “I told them…about Ninaa.” 

You didn’t trust yourself to move. “Told who?”

He glanced up at you before burying his face in your chest. “The kids.” 

He had been drunk, and very morose, the night he told you about the Jedi woman who had found him as a ragged child. He was begging on the streets, she was a survivor on the run. They were perfect for each other. Jod learned a little about his natural giftings from her, and they kept each other safe. Until they couldn’t. 

“Told them how she died. What she taught me, the potential she saw in me”–he almost spit the word out of his mouth–”only for those bastards to use her own lightsaber to kill her in front of me.” His teeth ground in their sockets.  

The children must have gotten deeper under his skin than you thought if he had unburdened that story on them.

“And then I threatened to do the same thing to them. As if I could convince myself that I could actually follow through on it.”

He exhaled a slow breath, his features cycling through emotion after another. And then, so quietly you weren’t sure the words hadn’t just appeared in your mind–

“Don’t give up on me just yet.” 

The weight of his body on yours was suddenly crushing.

“I’ve never given up on you.” Your pulse raced. “Those kids haven’t either.”

His voice was measured, low. A steel knife dragged against the edge of a whetstone.

“Yeah they have. Just like everyone else.”

Before you could protest, he lifted his head, eyebrows raised. “I know you don’t trust me fully. Nor should you.” His mouth drooped in defeat.

Your lips parted but no sound escaped at first. Your hands trembled slightly. 

“There’s always time to surprise them.” Surprise me. 

He lowered his head in resignation.

“Maybe.” Someday.

You hesitantly swept your hand over his strained shoulders, wishing you could pierce through the shadows engulfing you both. Your voice was barely a whisper. 

“You know those pinpricks of light you always talk about? The few good things in the galaxy that are so… sparse and unattainable.” 

You waited. It was a long moment before he nodded, reluctantly. 

“They only stay pinpricks when you keep running away from them. Up close…those stars are suns. They give light. Warmth. Life.”

His limbs tightened around you. His breathing was so shallow you almost thought he had fallen asleep. 

“Yes.” The quiet hiss startled you.

“But the sun also burns.”

The night itself seemed to hold its breath at his admission. Your heart spasmed in your chest, frayed nerves bare and broken at the acknowledgement of the open wound seeping into the air between you. 

The starved desires of a frightened child whose every grasp for the light left him shrouded in darkness. Fear of abandonment leaving ash on everything he touched. 

The silent screams of a boy who had never been able to become the man he thought he would be. 

The barrier on At Attin may have evaporated, but a different, more insidious fog swirled around the Force-sensitive pirate’s heart and mind, clouding him from your sight. All you could do was hold onto him, keep a sliver of hope for him shining like a beacon in the night sky. 

Hope that one day, that light might become a flame that could illuminate rather than ignite and burn.

A gleam that wouldn’t cheapen into fools’ gold. 

The moments warped around you, plasma slipping through a time-glass, until the man in your arms shifted slightly. His hands dug into your sides, lightly at first, and then gripping you like a vise. He leaned up, his eyes meeting yours in mute exhaustion, and pressed a slow, cautious, achingly tender kiss to your mouth.  

You fell asleep to the imagined hum of a lightsaber, slashing and cutting as terrified screams filled the air, burning a hole in the hopes and dreams of the poor boy who carried its scars still. 

******

Jod could still feel your lips on his as he stood in the doorway of your room, the gasps of laughter (and more) you had shared with him through the night echoing in his skull. It was early morning, the sun about to rise over the newly exposed plains on At Attin. He had to move if he was going to steal one of the RZ-1 interceptors docked on the hull of the ship and make his escape. 

But he couldn’t stop staring at the one streak of light that trickled through the curtain onto your peaceful, sleeping face, framed by your loose hair and the sheet he had pulled carefully over your shoulder.  

Slung under his arm was the chest full of credits that had been sitting on your desk. Face strained with regret, he turned one of the datary shards over in his palm. It was cold–hard–the sharpened edge firm and unyielding. Such a stark contrast to the softness of your body, the sunshine of your lips, the pliant way your curves filled his hands. He clenched his fist until the sting of the metal sent a jolt through his palm, blood beading in its wake. 

He was itching to choose the warmth of you instead–to turn away for once from the blinding gleam of the forged gold pieces at his side–but he still couldn’t make himself do it. Not quite yet. He couldn’t shake off the darkness that surrounded him on a persistent, daily basis, and until he found a path through that haze, he couldn’t bear to shroud you in it too. 

His jaw jutted forward, lips pursed in a scowl that threatened to slice the cool air. 

No attachments. The one rule of the Jedi he had always been able to follow through on. Forget ‘em. That’s what he had told Wim when the boy was crying, scared and shaking from missing his parents. He recalled boasting like a mynocked fool that he had done just that. 

He shook his head. Call him a fool if he ever found it within himself to forget Ninaa, or those damn kids–or you.

Especially you. 

He pulled his scarf up over his face, double-checked that your blaster was still cocked at his hip, shut your door behind him, and left. 

******

A beam of sunlight bursting at the seam of your eyelids finally woke you. Eyes screwed tight, you immediately buried your face in the cooling relief of your pillow, not caring whether you had slept past your alarm or not.

Until the memories of the previous night that led to why, exactly, you had turned off said alarm came rushing back, unbidden. 

Your hand stretched out hesitantly, feeling along the mattress. You knew even before you opened your eyes.

He was gone. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you reluctantly stretched your arms, spine, and neck in turn, and scanned the room. 

You weren’t surprised that the chest of gold was gone from your desk. Nor even that one of your blasters had disappeared too (although it was a rather expensive antique, damn him).  

What was surprising was what the missing pirate had left behind. In the middle of your desk, surrounded by a sea of papers, lay a small bag of coins–deliberately culled from the cache he had absconded with–the worn clasp from his belt, and a hastily scribbled note. 

You picked that up first, willing your fingers not to shake.

You told me once to make my life the one I want to live.

I haven’t forgotten. I promise you, I will.

A hitched breath escaped you, turning into a laugh halfway through. 

Promises were like breathing to him. But this was one you would try to believe.

Laying the letter down with a sigh, you picked up his buckle and ran your fingers over the familiar scuff marks. It had been years since you had first seen its plundered steel. A token of the meager threads that held a pirate’s humanity together. 

Not that the buckle’s first owner had been human at all. Originally strapped around the waist of the Quarren upstart Kragan Gorr, it made its way into Jod’s hands during a scuffle in the Outer Rim, which you once called a nuisance, and would later call fate. 

Visiting Kh’ymm and rather bored at the time, you had agreed to join Jod on a supply run when he picked up a distress signal near the Kiax Nebula. You learned the hard way that the one-eyed pirate Grox was running a grift to lure unsuspecting ships into the system, before stripping and selling them (and whatever cargo and crew they contained) to a group called the Tech Masters, who ruled the nearby planet of Trionax. 

Jod had been intrigued by the rumors of ships going missing, tales of a hidden junkyard planet somewhere in the nebulae, and whispers about the loot Grox was accumulating. He never could resist a tall tale.

Convincing you that the scavenging possibilities would be worth the detour, Jod followed the signal until you found yourselves locked into a tractor beam. Predictably, the two of you were no match for the formidable Lasat, although you put up a dirty fight. Gruesomely efficient, with only Kragan and two others for backup, Grox had eventually shipped you off to Trionax alongside a rather banged up Corellian light freighter he had captured on the same trip. 

Unbeknownst to everyone until you landed, the freighter was not unmanned. Inconvenient capture turned into a fateful rendezvous as you met the woman who would become your employer, role model, and friend. Why Senator Organa, her blond, innocent-faced twin, and their blue and silver astromech were wandering around in that part of space was beyond you, but you didn’t have time to question the situation. 

Trionax had remained hidden for so long due to an artificial force field protecting the planet. After realizing your ships couldn’t take off even if you could sneak back on board, Leia was prepared to brashly try and force a way out of the situation. You had a feeling Luke both could and would back up her threats, but the Tech Masters had no patience for being patronized. Trying a different tack, you let Jod and Luke sweet talk their way into finding a communications panel, while you summoned every power of negotiation and a pocket translator you had to try and stall for them. 

And it worked, Force knew how. Alerting the Empire to the planet’s location, you all managed to slip away in the chaos that unfolded as a Star Destroyer appeared in the atmosphere above. 

Not, however, before Leia slipped you her comm number, muttering something about reaching out if you ever wanted to lend your impressive skills to a good cause.

That had been years ago, before the Empire fell. 

You and Jod returned home in one piece, the stolen belt buckle the only memento of your unexpected adventure. But something had shifted in you, and bargaining your way through Jod’s whims was becoming less of a thrill, especially when capture and near death were involved. 

While you stayed in touch for a while, the two of you drifted apart, Kh’ymm giving you updates on his expanding crew and latest escapades until even she lost contact with the man you had once dreamed of a future with. She was never willing to divulge why.

And now here you were. Headed back to Coruscant with gold left in your possession by the same pirate who had tried to steal the lot of it–twice. A trusted ambassador carrying news to your Chancellor of a planet that might as well be from another galaxy. Crafting the explanation you would owe your senator on how exactly one of your prisoners had managed to take a detour–again. Choices made, paths crossed, fates open.

And yet, you knew Leia would understand having a soft spot for handsome pirates who were nothing but trouble. 

A sudden buzz from your comm pierced through your introspection, the flickering blue figure of your haggard-looking first mate appearing in front of you. 

“Excuse me for waking you, but there’s been a disturbance. We believe one of the fighters took off a little while ago without authorization.”

You chuckled inwardly, rolling your eyes at the pirate’s predictability. You had known from the moment your security dragged him up the August Prime’s boarding ramp that he wouldn’t accept leaving the same way. 

You held down the receiver to answer.

“It’s alright, I was already awake. Thanks for notifying me. I doubt there’s anything we can do at this point, but I’ll be right there.” 

Jod’s penance would have to wait. 

Prison had never really suited him, anyway.

✨ Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off pls!) ✨ @jetii @probadbatch @arctrooper69 @freesia-writes @drafthorsemath @sunshinesdaydream @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @the-little-moment @dreamless-daydreamer @ladyzirkonia

[zorosbeau33]

Oi, you wanna die? Zoro x Gender Neutral Reader Drabble

❖ One Piece, Zoro x gender neutral reader

❖ Scenarios/Drabble, Established Relationship AU, Protective Boyfriend Zoro

❖ TRIGGER WARNING Unwanted advances from a third party, 18+ Only due to theme

❖ wc: 1706

❖ Prompt "You said no and they didn't listen how does your partner respond?" ❖ Masterlist ❖ Luffy Version

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you all enjoy~ A couple people had requested more of the crew so here is Zoro for a start! I wasn't quite sure where to go with it but I think this will suffice for now!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The marines didn’t seem to notice things were amiss, then again none of them probably dared to imagine the legendary Straw Hat pirates would crash a military gala. Zoro himself fidgeted behind his mask, eye sweeping the room and numbering dozens of high ranking officials. This was definitely not his scene, stuffed into a black and sparkly prince costume with black jewel encrusted mask? Yeah not his style at all. The amount of men and women he’d shrugged off, or downright snubbed tonight in favor of finding more alcohol to drink was staggering. Not that he’d noticed, after one dance that he’d only done because Nami threatened him to do it to blend in long before they’d actually broken in. Flirtations were not his strong suit, and being a firm believer in no ending all advances he was disgusted when several people tried to laugh it off and continue in their attempts to touch him. 

All of this has culminated in the pursing of his lips as he tried not to sneer in disgust. Leaning against a pillar during a brief moment of quiet to himself Zoro once again scanned the room. It was beginning to unnerve him, sure he could see Nami fitting in without any issues wrapped in the arms of a high ranking admiral. Hell he could even see precious precocious prince Sanji with a line of women waiting to dance with him. That might come to bite them in the ass soon if the jealous glares of the womens husbands and wives said anything. However Zoro believed the cook would reap what he sowed and that it was none of his business. What nagged at him however was the evident lack of…you.

For three hours they had patrolled the floor and the garden, and yet you were no where to be found. A frown did manage to tug his lips downwards when he moved around a thick crowd of people and up the stairs. Yes, he should leave it be and concentrate on the mission of extracting all the information they could while Nami stole the key off the admiral and passed it along to Luffy, Robin and Brook. But the nagging sensation of you being missing for THIS long? Nothing normally could stir him to panic-reasonable panic. His captain falling in the water or slingshotting directly at his face was reasonable panic. This was not such a time, bubbles seemed to turn to knots in his gut. His scar itched. 

Halfway up the stairs he heard it, unable to hide his reaction as he perked up swinging his head around towards the sound of a familiar laugh. Zoro felt you before he saw you, Haki registering your presence far closer to him than he had anticipated. In fact there in the middle of the group of people he had been made to work around several times, stood your glorious form. Nami had outdone herself with your outfit and Zoro had almost swallowed his tongue on the ship when he first saw you. Now even more so under the glitter and glow of the chandeliers, your laugh made the tension melt from his muscles while he stopped his prowling to take you in. In this atmosphere you were radiant, seemingly to have been born out of the most beautiful emerald just to grace the presence of those around you. The jewel encrusted mask covering your face only added to the mystery around you, causing those around you to lean in all the closer. Perhaps you needed no savior, though Zoro felt it his first duty as the man that belonged to you. Swordsmiths above he was so smitten with you, lingering on the stairs above your group to watch you, scowl melting into a tender smile. He would have to apologize to Nami and Luffy later, his sword was supposed to belong to his captain then the mission. But here the only person he could allow claim to him was your radiance. A betrayal he was sure they would understand, it was common knowledge to all of the crew that his heart and soul had found their home in your hands. 

So imagine his rage when your smile fell away into a look of shock, yanking your arm back from the grips of a pot bellied slobbering ‘gentleman’. Capable like he knew you were, you quickly extricated yourself from the pudgy admiral who reeked of weaks old cheese and beer. The gaudy prince attire nearly popping buttons off as the heavy drinker puffed himself up indignantly. Zoro would miss the next few moments as he rushed down the staircase and began to force his way through the gasping and shocked onlookers who had until this moment been fawning over your intelligence and eloquent words. His fury was three fold for he knew how hard you had practiced to learn all these speech patterns and points of talk to be a good distraction as needed by the plan. However when the noise of a slap rang out he couldn’t help but bark a command for the people in front to move.

Being all of military standing or married into, they felt his haki and heard his commands and moved apart at once. Years of training telling even the higher ranks this must be someone  with power and the gravitas of higher station To do such a thing at the military gala. Relief infantesimally warmed his cold gaze, the sound of the slap had in fact come from your strike and not the admirals. Zoro knew this man too well, he’d bought and blustered his way up to the position he was in now, and falling out of graces with Akainu’s strength based rule had resorted to underhanded trickery and binge drinking. 

“Once a sleeze ball always a sleezeball.” scoffed someone in the crowd as a woman pulled you closer to herself and away from the enraged man before you. Bits of wien splattered down his front as he spluttered and clutched his hand to his chest, beer belly nearly busting his gaudy belt buckle. 

“Admiral he started it! They told him no and he tried to force it! Should we court marshal him?” A young Captain stepped forward to report to Zoro, also taking on a defensive stance in front of you. To your credit you were playing the distressed and meak house spouse very well, although he knew just from looking your strike had most probably broken at least two of the mans meaty fingers. Thankfully it seemed his display had caused others to believe him to be an important military official rather than raise suspicion about his person. Zoro gathered himself together, he couldn’t afford to make too much of a scene here. While everyones masks and disguises made the party much safer for them to intervene. They did not need to draw to many eyes upon themselves or else the costumed Zoro’s in the crowd might jog someones mind to realize the real one was standing in front of them. After that it would only be a matter of minutes before the others would get picked out from the crowd as well. 

He needed to protect you, but in a way that would seem appropriate and take attention off of you both and quickly. Squaring his shoulders Zoro tutted and switched all his weight to his right foot, arm resting on the hilt of his single sword. Adapting the posture of a haughty admiral was not difficult it often amused him when he was a bounty hunter to see all of their posturing, the arrogance was easy to emulate. A flick of the hand had several people stepping forward seizing the admirals wrists and forcing them behind him. 

“This is a party, I advise you keep your voice down before I report your misdeeds to headquarters directly…” His deep voice rumbled and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Take him out of here without a scene, knock him out if you have to. The part-the gala is a place only those of high standing are allowed. Such behavior will not be tolerated, have him placed on trial…tomorrow morning he can sit in the cells for tonight.” 

The man bellowed his outrage, stating his rank and to unhand him right this moment. In an instant Zoro’s hand was around his skull, and squeezing. Rage turned into pain and he gasped spluttering in pain, the captains almost dropping him in shock at the speed of Zoro’s moves. 

“OI…do you wanna die?” Zoro growled lowly so only he and the two captains could hear. They froze and stared in shock and fear. The rage he had felt upon seeing the man place his hand on you without your consent, causing his pupils to dilate. Haki spreading over his fingertips hidden only by the gloves that accented his outfit. Blood pounding in his ears, ready to lay this man to sleep for his crime. The smell of the admiral wetting himself hardly registering to his senses, how dare this scum…Barely reeling himself in Zoro leaned back out and let him go. “You already placed your hands on my partner and now you disgrace this place. Get him out of our sight.” 

Turning quickly on his heel Zoro took his handkerchief out and wiped the makeup from the admiral off his fingers in a show of disgust. Reeling in his rage before stopping in front of you again, thanking the woman in a low murmur as he took you from her grip. People bowed and scuttled out of his way while he hurriedly guided you away to the gardens, arm wrapped securely around your waist. Once in the open air he sighed in relief and slowed down checking on you now as he readied himself for Nami to beat him over the head once you returned to the ship. Yes you could have defended yourself, and you certainly had but he would always be here to ensure that you would be okay. Even if you teased him for his bad acting skills for the rest of his life, you being safe and your boundaries being respected were far more than worth it in his mind.

[isabeauwolf]

Merman Law x reader 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 Part 6

Part 4: Rest

One of the many curses of being a member of your family was your sense of curiosity and adventure.

The fact that Law, a merman existed didn't frighten you.

No, it only fed your curiosity. The burning and selfish curiosity of wanting to look at the rest of his human form, now that he was fully clothed.

Licking your dry lips, sneaking a glance over your shoulder again. His back was still turned. Your eyes trailed from the top of his unruly inky black tresses, down his broad shoulders, his tall and lanky frame, the hint of muscle and his slime waist and his long legs in those light blue, black spotted jeans. Tilting your head you noticed that his ass was flat? Oh well, even if his backside was as flat as a flapjack that didn't stop you from admiring him to your hearts content.

The tattoos that littered his arms and peaked out from underneath his white tank top, or his inked fingers. It certainly added more to his attractive and hotness factor. The longer you ogled him the more questions you had swirling around in your head.

What was their story? Was it an ancient custom similar to the days of old when a warrior earned their mark of adulthood after winning their first battle? Or did he want to look cool and mysterious? Emo and badass? Both?

He said he was a pirate. A merman pirate, a Captain of The Heart Pirates. His crew, his pod matés. He said some were merfolk and some were human. Proving that he didn't discriminate.

Law's voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Are you done changing?"

You grew heavily flustered. "Not yet, one second." Oops. Shaking your head, feeling your whole body heat up with embracement.

Of course, Law had better stuff to do than stand around all day and let you admire him and ogle him like some Greek God statue! Oh, if Nami and Robin knew they'd tease you to no end! The pair of women, your fellow female crewmates knew you found men attractive, but for some reason you weren't attracted to anybody, which was odd. Marine or Pirate, nobody seemed to catch your fancy.

A similar and uncanny trait you shared with Luffy. So what in the world made Law, a merman any different? Well, besides the obvious difference in species. It didn't bother you. Luffy mentioned the gang going to Sabaody and Fishmen Island, you met Hachi and Cami, fishmen weren't anything new. You had seen mermaids, but... this was the first time you saw a live merman.

It made you wonder, if they were rare? Or had migrated to one of the other blues? Law and his pod came from The North Blue, one of the colder vast parts of The Grandline, if you remembered what Nami said.

Still many unanswered questions.

Fully dried and dressed in your borrowed clothes, you turned to face Law. "Okay, I'm dressed." The yellow and black hoodie had what you assumed was his jolly roger on it, it was soft and well worn. Must be one of his favorites? You thought.

Law twirled on his heels and your breath stilled in your lungs. To say your mysterious Merman savior was devilishly handsome before was an understatement. You noticed he had his Jolly Roger tattooed on his chest, along with more inky black swirls and patterns that you couldn't make out. What you could appeared to be heart shaped?

There was faint old wound or a scar on his arm as if it has been cut off and reattached? The scar tissue was paler than the rest of his body. It proved that he was a warrior of the sea and a survivor.

Glancing around the room once more. There are stacks and stacks of book, old and new. Oh, Robin would love it here. You giggle and grin to yourself. And me too!

A library under water? Who wouldn't love it!

Law broke the silence first, stepping closer towards you and then around you. "Feel free to look around." Law says. "I'll go fetch my med kit."

"Wait? There's more?" You ask in interest, following his retreating figure.

Law left his lips twitch. "Yes." He half turns. "This is my room." Nodded his head towards the bed. "You can relax on the bed, if you'd like." Fully stepped outside the room and down the hallway without glancing back. "Need to make sure you aren't injured too badly." He mutters to himself, underneath his breath.

You take a step forward, then pause. "Wait? Are you a merman, pirate captain doctor?"

Law paused, backtracking to meet your eyes. "What gave it away?" He raised a brow, lips quirking a tad. Seems his mate was reckless and overly curious, not that he had any right to judge after how you two ended up here.

Oh shit, that sounded way better inside your head. "I-" You falter, mouth opening and closing, trying to finish your sentence as he waited, listening. "I didn't mean to offend you." You blush even harder. "I'm sorry."

"Not at all." Law reassured you. "I imagine it's all new for you and unsettling. Getting caught in a storm, falling overboard, nearly drowning and dying on top of meeting a merman." He listed off, summarizing the events that led you two here. "Being dragged away from your crew and into my home." He paused, brows furrowing.

Well, he's certainly blunt and to the point.

Were you seeing things or did he look.... guilty somehow? Why? He saved your life. You should be the one who's awkward, floundering and traumatized.

"It's alright." You spoke, raising a hand to play with one of the strings on his hoodie. "We're both pirates." You shrug, playing it off with ease. "We face life and death every day, don't we?" You muttered, meeting his liquid silvers again. "Besides you being a doctor saves time calling for one, right?"

"True." Law admitted, nodded his head and continuing forward. "I'll be right back." Law won't admit it, but you were taking things surprisingly well. Most humans who faced near death experiences, let alone drowning or saw things they didn't see every day would be freaking out. He wondered, if you were hiding your true feelings or if he was lucky to have a partner who was calm under pressure? A blessing in disguise. Guess, only time will tell.

You raised you hand and waved. "I'll be here." You inwardly sigh and slouch, spinning slowly and walking towards his bed. It looked soft and inviting, you noticed the same color black and yellow spotted patterns on the thick blanket. Huh? Does he like spotted prints and patterns? You tilt you head and shrug, wiping your feet on the furry green rug and drying them before crawling into his bed. You groaned as soon as your body hit the mattress.

"Damn, this is soft." You close your eyes, snuggling further into the softest mattress and pillows you swear you've ever laid on. "I'm jealous." You mumble to yourself, feeling your body aches catching up. "Ow." You reopen your eyes, blinking and closing them. "Getting sleepy." You rub your eyes and yawn. "Maybe I should take some z's?" Another weird family habit was being able to sleep anywhere and everywhere, given your brothers and grandpa's ability to fall asleep while eating. "Hope Law doesn't mind?" Rolling onto your back, staring at the rocky ceiling as your eyes closed, your breath evened, and you slept within a matter of seconds.

Law quickly returned.

"I need to assess anywhere you might have gotten hurt while being thrown overboard." Law explained, coming back with a med kid in hand, and a stethoscope around his neck.

Instead of answer, he heard snoring. He glanced up from digging inside his medical bag, then his gaze softened. Oh.

Law continues further into the room, setting his equipment down on top of his work desk, grabbing a blanket, covering you and whispering. "Good night, my songstress." Hesitantly, he reached out and brushed a lock of your hair out of your face. The simplest of touches seemed to make his skin tingle and ignite as he shivered, his heartbeat skipped a beat, and he released a shuddering exhale. Oh boy. If his body was already this sensitive to your touch, what was he going to do when he had to fully examine you and touch you?

Law straightened, drinking in the sight of you wearing his clothes. Sleeping in his bed and finally in your shared nest. He was pleased, it felt right. Felt as if a missing puzzle piece had finally filled the void within his broken and beating heart.

The need to hold you in his arms, brush his lips against your skin, slowly, ever so slowly, Law felt himself lower and draw closer, his body moving on autopilot as he crawled onto the bed, hovering over you. His hands tightening and fisting the blankets, even as his full weight adding to yours on the bed, you didn't stir. Swallowing thickly, closing his eyes and shaking himself, reopening his eyes as his gaze lowered to your pump and kissable looking mouth.

Law breathed in your scent. The salt of the sea still clinging onto your skin as well as his mixing with your own. A rumbling purr of content left his chest, causing the doctor's face to blush a deep shade of red, backing away slowly, raising an inked hand covering his mouth and jaw.

He needed to calm down. He didn't want to scare you or make you hate him. No, never you.

Law strolled towards his work desk, sitting down and sighed. Closing his eyes again, running his hands through his hair. "God, this is as intense and soul altering as Cora-san said it would be." He muttered to himself, remembering when his adoptive father had found his own fated female thirteen years ago. Sinking further into his work chair, groaning in frustration and exasperation, he knew the blonde giant would be over the moon and happy for Law.

He could already picture the towering, grinning idiot giving him a smug smirk now. Bragging, a series of "I told you so's." The giant merman mentioned when he first started courting his female that when Law become of age, when he found his destined mate, he'd know.

Opening his eyes, immediately shifting onto your sleeping figure. He chuckled to himself noticing you had kicked off the blanket and your body had scooted down, and your limbs spread wide, resembling a starfish. He swears he heard you mutter the word, "meat?"

Well, looks like you would be hungry after you awaken.

Law swirled around in his chair, leaned forward, grabbing a pen and piece of paper, resting his elbow on the armrest, palm of his hand holding his chin, index finger tapping the side of his cheek. "If the enormous appetites StrawHat, Fire Fist and The Dragon Emperor are known for is true..." he mumbled to himself, writing down what he had stocked in the fridge and pantries. "Then I imagine their sister and my mate will need a lot of nourishment." His gaze shifts towards his hidden safe, filled with stolen treasure and loot or what lost jewels and gold he'd found in sunken pirate ships laying on the sea floor.

Not to brag, but The Heart Pirates had gathered a vast amount of wealth along their journey, not including what he had back home. "Let's hope my female doesn't have a queens spending habit on top of her hearty appetite." He hummed, scribbling down necessities you might need.

You couldn't keep wearing the same clothes. You could borrow his, he'd like it very much. Sneaking his clothes back after you had worn it and covering himself in your scent.

Law's eyes widened, feeling his cheeks grow hotter as his grip tightened on his pen as he glared down at the list. "Keep it together Law." His gaze softened, shifting to your form once more. "You've come this far." The Merman sighed. Placing his pen down and ran a hand down his face. "Can't lose her. Not after finally finding her."

----- End of Chapter 4 ----

Want more Law x reader? I've got you!

Law x Pregnant reader Law x Plus Size Nurse reader

Tag list: @m0sigma7 @angelblueflame @pandora-writes-one-piece @short-honey-badger @supreme-burrito @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @cherry-queens-blog @fairymama624 @mrstraffy @kira-scarllet @strawheart-pirate @azuragalaxya @kira-scarllet @the-ginger-draws @cericebelle @emlikesfl0w3rs @aceismyloveforever @mrstrafalgardwater24 @imsnk-ow @thekatisspooky @lycoriscrow @lunulatalux @physics-of-one-piece @honeyshiddendesire @pinkbun1 @vlntnxvoc @rubyninja1 @chillerkiller

[bump1nthen1ght]

Fair Winds, Following Seas (M!Reader x M!Siren)

Pairing: Male!Captain!Reader x Male!Flirty!Siren

Genre: Pirates, Pining, Flirting

Word Count: 2257 words

Warnings: N/A

Summary: As a captain of a feared pirate crew, not much terrifies you. Not even keeping the company of a man-eating siren. 

Based on this request: (A/N: WHELP I clearly misread this request haha, a more accurate version of this request can be found here, but for now enjoy this piece!) May I request a flirty male! siren! reader with a male gruff pirate captain? I'll leave the details up to you! Love your works by the way, take all the dang time you need. :3

One of your favorite things about being captain is being at the helm. With nothing but an endless ocean in front of you and a steady grip on the wheel, you’ve never felt more at peace.

Except for right now, with an incessant rapping on your shoulder.

“Yes, Mr. Brightley?”

Your nervous, newest third mate jolts at your voice, probably just having worked up the nerve to approach you in the first place.

“U-um, the lookout has spotted a stranded person sitting out on the rock.” His shaky hands point out on the horizon, where a large outcrop stands solitary amidst the waves. The kind of rock that could sustain no other life than a seagull and crustaceans.

Your brow furrows.

“Really?”

“Yes, captain. The crew was wondering if we should stop and help them-”

“What do they look like?”

That stops Mr. Brightley in his tracks.

“Uh-”

“Check for me, will you?” You nod your head to the nearby telescope. Your ship is slowly riding the waves, the rock just within viewing distance.

Mr. Brightly shakily takes the scope, extending it and trying to catch any general features.

“Uh, long black hair, tan-” Brightley’s free eye squints, “It looks like they're wearing a sheet?”

You sigh.

“Tell the crew to get the rowboat ready, I’ll go and check this out.”

—

Your younger crew looks at you like you're crazy as you insist on going out to the rock by yourself, bringing nothing but a rope, a ladder and a bucket of fish with you. You told them you’ll be back in a few hours, another baffling fact.

As you row through the crashing waves,  a beckoning, melodic voice calls out to you.

“Oh, my savior!” The tenor calls out in fake falsetto, white linen flowing around his nude figure like Aphrodite. “I’ve been stranded for days. I thought I was a goner.” You throw a rope up the side of the rock, a snake-like hand grabbing it with precision. 

His face is beautiful, practically carved out of marble. His warm brown eyes are that of a doe, all innocent and alluring. “Whatever can I do to repay you?”

“Cut the crap, Harris.” 

You toss the pail of sea sweater directly into Harris face, the sheet wrapped around his chest going sheer. Harris just tosses his hair, water speckling like a rainbow as false skin fades into green scales, those doe eyes glowing a bright yellow and his demure smile becoming full of sharp teeth. He still resembles a human, a handsome one too, but this form is much more real.

“Ah, you always know how to make my day, Captain.”

Harris knots the rope around a sturdy rock, foregoing your rope ladder entirely and diving into the water with perfect precision. You roll your eyes.

“Showoff.” Haris flips back his long hair, now dark and tangled with sea water, as he pulls himself up onto the rowboat. His triceps flex and he gives you a wry smirk “You know you could send me a letter, like a normal friend does. Don’t have to do-” You gesture to the giant rock, to the diaphanous sheet now barely hanging off his hips, “-all this.”

“Nonsense, Captain.” Harris leah's over and sends a wave to your crew, most likely absolutely gobsmacked at this point. “These meetings are special! Special things deserve some drama.”

Harris flops his body over your legs, hand thrown over his forehead like the cover of a bodice-ripper. The sheet wraps around his waist, somehow making his sharp v seem all the more pronounced.

You scoff, setting your large oars aside and giving your arms a break. The sun is bright today, reflecting off the wear and right into your eyes. Sweat has begun to pool onto your brow.

A calloused, scaly hand runs up the side of your face, drawing your attention. The tips of Harris’ claws just graze your skin, lingering over a strip of puckered skin right by your jaw, no bigger than an inch.

“Is this new?”

You hum, remembering the scuffle at the bar they gave you the scar. It wasn’t even a good enough story to tell, the mark itself easily covered up by some facial hair, if you wanted to.

“Well, it makes you no less handsome.”

Harris sits up on his elbows, eyes dangerously darting across your lips. His tongue, long and black, darts in between his teeth.

You throw your thighs up and even Harris’ strong core isn’t enough to keep him steady. He falls off of you, quite ungracefully.

“Hey! Watch the merchandise, these looks are important, y’know?”

Harris brushed back his hair, showing off the sharp cut of his jaw and his perfectly pushed up cheekbones. They glimmer green and gold in the sunlight.

You grab a fish from the bucket and throw it in his face. Harris catches it between his teeth. He gives you a wink as blood and bone crunch under his fangs. 

“Hope you like mackerel, cause that's all you're getting.”

Harris pushes your knee in jest, lips so pouty, but graciously accepts the heaps of fish you give him. You’re lucky you're almost completely nose-blind, as you're sure the boat reeks of fish guts and brine at this point. 

“Now tell me Captain,”” Harris says, still picking flesh from his teeth, “-what ya been up to?”

“Nothing much.”

“You always say that.” Harris whines, stripping flesh clean of the bone with one bite. “Must I pry out every battle and plunder you’ve gone through? You’re a fearsome pirate Captain, brag a little.”

“This coming from the man who's been inside the Marianas Trench and didn’t tell me until I knew him for a year. ” You pull out a fresh orange, thankful you didn’t get any of the fish-stink on your hands. “Pot calling kettle black, Harris.”

“Ugh, you’ve seen the Marianas Trench once you’ve seen it you’ve seen it 

hundred times.” Harris throws a fish bone over the side, crossing his arms and leaning on your seat. “Now, suck it up and tell me about a ‘port’ of some sort!”

This was how it always went with Harris. For a siren, he was weirdly fascinated by your land-locked tales. You’d think he’d hate human stuff, given you met when rescuing him from a fishing net.

“Meh. Some sirens are shitty, some sirens are good. I’m sure humans are the same. I mean, you seem pretty cool.”

The next time your paths crossed had been accidental. Harris almost lured one of your men over the side. But after that snafu, he agreed to let the poor soul go in exchange for another story, something exciting like you had distracted him with when cutting him free. 

After that began the trade; he told you about his underwater escapades, you told him about your land ones. You seemed to be like magnets, paths always crossing in a wide wide ocean. 

“Ooh, like this.” Harris lunges forward, clawed hand going for your neck. After years of this, you don’t even flinch. The claws pull at the lace of your new necklace, pulling out the mother-of-pearl pendant ensconced in gold in the center. “I bet this has a story. Where did you get this from?”

“Hmm, just a bet gone right at a port bar. The one I told you about, with all the seashell decorations”  It was a common haunt of you and your crew, your face well known and respected. “Stupid bastard just wouldn't stop playing. He must have been a stupid noble or something, trying to make it on his own. Too much gold and not enough sense.” You look at the pendant, seeing the faint colors shimmer in the sunlight. “He only quit after he lost this, must’ve been an heirloom cause he got real red in the face afterwards. Lunged at my neck with a fork.” 

“Oh! Oh! Did you stab his hand into the table? Did you grab him by the collar, hold your sword up to his neck and say ‘Unhand me, fool, or I’ll wear your guts for garters’?”

You raise your eyebrow.

“You’ve been reading too many of those romance novels. No, I punched him and he was out like a light.”

Harris flops down, a pout.

“Well, what about the gold?”

“Spent most of it that night. Well, the crew did. I think they bled that poor tavern dry.” You laugh, fiddling with the pendant. That had been a fun night. “I held onto the rest.”

“Well surely you spent some of it. Didn’t you party with your crew?”

“Nah, I love the lads but they make poor company when drunk.”

“Hmm, so you prefer the company of others.” Harris wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward and an elbow. “Anyone in parti-cu-lar?” Harris gives an exaggerated wink, scrunching up his cheek and all.

You aren’t moved by the performance

“Like I said, too many romance novels.”

“Oh come on!” Harris grabs another fish, ripping its head off with one movement. “Do you know how small the eligible siren population is? There's only about 500 of us, and you’re lucky if the siren you're courting isn't an ex's ex of an ex. There’s like, thousands of you humans-”

“More like billions-”

“-and you’re saying no one comes to mind? Not even a young ingénue waiting for their fearsome captain to come back from the sea? Or pining over that rugged lover they took one night, who blew their stockings right off?” Harris takes a bite of the fish, spitting out pieces of bone over the side. He leans forward further on his elbows, chin just inches from brushing against your thigh. “You’re telling me they don’t just throw themselves at you, Captain. You? Surely there must be someone who caught your eye.”  Harris gestures to your whole body. 

You exhale through your nose, staring right into Harris' deep yellow eyes. You’re no artist, nor a writer, but you wonder what the right words would be to describe him.

Someone with big eyes, with that aquiline nose. Whose eyes are like the sunset on the water, clear yet vibrant. With a black tongue, sharp teeth and even sharper claws.

“Nope, no one.”

Harris rolls his eyes, shoving your thigh with a half-strength push. 

“Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll pry you open one day, Captain.”

Fortunately, the conversation quickly drifts from your love-life to his recent misadventures. Mostly boring, according to him; Riding the gulf stream all the way to Iceland, helping a whale calf back to its mother, and sinking an English ship with some siren buddies.

“All Royal Navymen, so not the tastiest meat. But my god, do they make interesting sport.”

You show him the scar on your side you have from when such a Royal Navyman had grazed it with a bayonet.

“Lost lots of blood. But I walked away with my head intact, can’t say the same for him.”

“Not that he had much to begin with.”

That gets a laugh.

Only the setting sun can cut your meetings short, the night at sea bringing a deathly chill you’re ill equipped to deal with. Harris offers to pull your rowboat back to your ship, knowing how the sun tires you to the bone.

Curious crew members flee from the side as Harris draws closer, his handsome face poking out above the water. You’re sure some of them have already stuffed cotton in their ears, terrified of Harris. It takes your second hand, Ricky, to let the rope ladder down after you call everyone else cowards.

“I see what you mean about your crew, Captain. Who’d be afraid of little ole me?”

He presses a finger to his cheek in faux innocence, smile still filled with teeth. You splash some more water in his face.

You hop onto the bottom rung of the stepladder after typing up the rowboat, sluggish crew still too afraid to approach the side and pull the boat up. You turn back to Harris, who lingers in the water.

“Well, Farewell Captain! May your adventures be plentiful, so I have something interesting to listen to next time”

Harris propels himself upward, giving a dramatic bow half-way out of the water. You can’t fight the smile. Such a drama queen.

“Hey Harris?” You call back, now hanging off the ladder with one hand. The other gestures for Harris to come closer.

“Yes?” Harris asks, leaning up with brows furrowed.

His lips are just as salty as you’d expect. With only a three second peck, you’re already fiending for some water. It’d be harder to pull away, otherwise.

Those eyes are blown wide open, cheeks flushed an unnatural color you’ve never seen before. It’s a brand new expression on Harris, it shoots a pleasant bolt down your spine.

“Until we meet again.”

You tap the side of the rope, quickly yanked up by Ricky. You shoot only a glance back and see Harris, jaw dropped open like a guppy.

By the time you’re back on the deck, he seems to have dived back in the water, and your crew are pulling cotton out of their ears.

You give Ricky a pat on the back and he gives you a knowing smile. He’ll never let this go, that’s for sure. 

You saunter off into your quarters, Mr. Brightley and the rest still as befuddled as before.

“Absolute madman, he is.” Mr. Brightley says, wondering how he’d fit all your escapades into his letter to his sister. Hopefully her Captain was more sane than his.

[gatitties]

Ok, I have this idea, the reader(preferably female) is apart of the white beard crew, but White-beard, thatch, Marco, and Ace are the only ones that know about her. She’s a shadow to the rest of the world. The marines and Government don’t even know about her. When Ace is sentenced to death, she makes an appearance because she doesn’t want her brother to end up dead. Not to mention, she’s Yonko level strong.

─Ace, Thatch & Marco x fem!reader (platonic)

─Summary: you refuse to let the only person who could see you die when no one else did

─Warnings: none

─ When you joined the crew everyone celebrated having a new companion to live adventures with, however in just a few days the majority seemed to ignore your existence.

─ Perhaps it hurt you a little that some of the pirates who were supposedly your family forgot your name, but over time you understood that here everyone had their groups and the group in general was so large that it was normal that not everyone knew each other.

─ Although it took you a little longer to adapt, it was thanks to Ace's bright and fiery personality that you didn't feel like a forgotten dog.

─ Ace being the only person you felt comfortable with, you found yourself behind him like a baby duck, which he found adorable, you reminded him of Luffy when he was a kid and followed him through the forest.

─ Of course, being with Ace meant being friends with Marco and Thatch, they didn't know you at first, but they ended up warming to you after a few weeks.

─ You didn't need anything more than those three idiots, the only three people who knew you, who wanted to know about you, who remembered your name, but above all the only ones who could contemplate your strength, they dared to compare you with their father, Whitebeard.

─ Regardless of whether you were a devil fruit user or not, you were someone extremely strong, but since your existence was barely noticeable, you preferred to keep a low profile regarding your abilities.

─ When Ace began to travel and not return so often your heart tightened full of anxiety, without Thatch after the accident with Blackbeard you began to get overwhelmed with Ace's well-being.

─ Which led you to spend many hours inside Marco's office, looking for some comfort, he would calm you down with some sweet words at the time, although it was inevitable not to show concern when the news that your friend had been captured and was going to be executed.

─ You weren't going to go through that, so even without being noticed you were piled up with all those who joined together to save a comrade, a brother.

─ In the middle of the fight you had no problem making way with violence and power, and it's not like anyone was paying too much attention to you since all the attention was on the one you deduced was Luffy, Ace's brother.

─ You smiled when you saw that both brothers fell outside the place of execution, although your face became gloomy when you saw how they continued to attack them, taking into account that they were generals of the marines, you should hurry up and advance to the front.

─ The feeling in the pit of your stomach made a lump in your throat as you saw how, being one step away from both boys, you saw in slow motion how admiral Akainu's lava-coated fist headed towards Ace's exposed chest.

─ You never thought you were holding back in some battles, but even you were surprised when you sent the admiral flying out of your brother's reach, both of them looking at you with their mouth slightly open, although Ace greeted you with a smile instantly.

─ The silence fell for a few seconds and for the first time you received looks from thousands of people, feeling completely self-conscious, you hurried to get rid of the chains that linked Ace's hands to your bare hands, the priority now was to get out of there in one piece.

─ Perhaps, after your feat, people would begin to look at you with different eyes, or simply, to notice more, after all, you were the savior of the son of the pirate king.

─ Oh if Thatch were here he would brag about his sister's strength like Ace and Marco did once they returned to the ship, where this time they celebrated as if everyone were going to become extinct the next morning.

[luna0713hunter]

I'm in love with your fics.

Do you have a Masterlist somewhere? 😎

Also, could I request something about Shanks x reader? Maybe a fight (with swords and everything) where Shanks save/protects reader and then full fluff at the aftermath? 💖 Shanks is my everything! 💕💕💕💕

Thank youuu!

Author's note : awww thank you! And yes!!!i just updates my master list!!its in my pinned message,and you can also search "masterlist"!! So understandable,Shanks is one of my favorites as well :))) i hope you like it!!enjoy~

Take my breath away

Shanks x reader

Warnings : none really, typical fighting and slight injuries,mention of Shank's lost arm,fluff fluff fluff,and ofc hurt/comfort ,pet names

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

When your back hits the ground,hard,you wonder how things ended up like this.

It was a typical day;the morning starting out when Benn spotted the land,then all of you going to the market to restore food and drinks (mostly booz) and any weapons needed.

It was a typical,calm day. Until it wasn't.

You were so close to your ship when another crew of pirates attacked you.

That's how you ended up on the ground, groaning as the pirate you were fighting with kicks you in the ribs. The action has you letting out a small yell while trying to get up and fight back,but the next kick to you temple has your eyesight darkening as everything starts to blur.

You dont lose consciousness,but you're close to it. So when you hear a distant shout of your name you think you might be hallucinating. But the arm around your shoulders and almost rough shaking of your body feels very much real.

So you squeeze your eyes shut and let out another pained groan before opening them once again.

Everything is a little fuzzy at the edge,but you manage to finally keep your focus on your savior.

Red hair is the first thing that gets your attention.

"Shanks?"

You internally cringe at how horse your voice sounds.

"Yeah baby girl,its me," the arm around you tightens as Shanks pulls you closer to his chest, "can you keep those pretty eyes open for me, princess?"

Oh, you think,when did you close them?

"It hurts."

"i know, I'm sorry my love."

"I'm sleepy too."

"you can sleep all you want once the medic takes a good look at you." His lips press to your forehead so gently that you close your eyes again. Shanks taps your cheek with his finger and smiles softly when you meet his eyes with your glazed over ones, "dont sleep yet,Baby girl."

You whine and rub your face in his neck,making him chuckle slightly.

"but I'm tiredddd."

"tell you what," his voice is so calming that it eases the pang behind your eyes slightly, "if you manage to stay awake by the time the medic comes, I'll reward you with anything you want."

At the offer,you perk up and look at him with gleaming eyes.

"promise?"

"promise."

So you try your hardest to stay awake,and by the time the medic finishes checking on you and tells you that you can rest,you immediately fall asleep in Shank's arm.

✧

You wake up to fingers carding through your hair and caressing your bruised cheek.

The mere action of opening your eyes take lot of effort,but when you finally do it, you're met with your Captain's concerned gaze.

When Shanks notices your eyes on him,he immediately bends over you and rests his hand on your forehead.

"Angel,baby girl,can you hear me?"

You give him a slight nod and upon opening your mouth to speak,you burst into series of dry coughs. Shanks rushes to pour you a glass of water and after helping you sit up and rest your back against his chest,he helps you drink it.

When your throat is once again working,you rest your head on his shoulder tiredly and look around; you're in your shared room with Shanks,which immediately makes you relax further.

"how's everybody?"

"the guys are fine. You should worry about yourself. You were the most beat up of us all."

You groan and throw your head back, "this is so embarrassing," you mumble, "cant believe i was so careless."

"what're you talking about," Shanks takes hold of your chin and turns your head so he can look at you while raising his brows, "have you perhaps forgotten i came back from a fight single handed?"

You frown, "thats different!!you were fighting a giant sea monster!"

"its not different at all. Its a battle;and getting hurt is absolutely normal." His expression softens as his fingers trace your bandaged cheek, "not that it makes it any easier to see you like this." He gently presses his lips to your forehead and murmurs a soft apology.

"not your fault. Dont ever apologize" You caress his cheek and suddenly give him a devilish grin, "so,i was promised a reward if i recall correctly?"

Shanks chuckles and presses his lips to yours softly.

"anything you want."

And when you laugh and pull him down to kiss him breathless, he's sure he's going to regret promising you that.

[buckysxgal]

I'd Let The World Burn - Eustass Kid x Reader

Picture I got from Pinterest - It's a screencap from One Piece

Summary: Just a little snippet of you and Kid during the Raid of Onigashima.

Word Count: 870

Details: Set in Wano Arc (specifically in Onigashima). Established Relationship. this is during the Big Mom fight. Kid saves the reader (and Nami, Usopp, and Otama by association). Kid calls reader 'Doll'. I tried to keep specifics about Reader (gender, race, etc.) out, if i missed something please let me know and I can fix it! I want this to be readable for EVERYONE. I listened to LET THE WORLD BURN by Chris Grey while writing this.

Also posted on AO3

Floral Banner and Support your Creators banner from @saradika

“WHERE ARE THEY?!” A voice bellowed out. The voice could be heard all throughout Onigashima. Currently, I was running with Nami, Usopp and Otama through the hallways of the castle. 

“Who the hell was that?” Nami said, startled, looking around for a person to match the voice while we ran. We turned right down another hallway only to bump into Big Mom again. She was now targeting Otama because she was ‘going against her’ by running away from her with us.

“I don’t think we have time to question that Nami.” I said while pointing up to Big Mom who was gearing up to attack. “What should I do about the ones I hate?” Big Mom started, speaking to her sword, the cloud and the sun floating around her. “I should kill them!” She screamed, lifting her sword up to strike.

Nami held the child closer to her body, and Usopp fell to the ground with a shout. I stepped closer to Nami and Otama, spreading my arms out and bracing myself with my eyes closed. Nami, Usopp and Otama’s screams were suddenly drowned out with the sound of metal scraping together. I looked up in awe, seeing my lover’s metal arm shooting out above us and hovering it in front of Big Mom’s face.

“You’re…!” Big Mom started before Kid attached his arm to her face and lifted and slammed her into the floor, cracking the floorboards with a call of Punk Gibson. His figure outlined appeared in the dust behind us as we all turned around to face our savior. Big Mom’s ally, the cloud that she called Hera, flew over to her asking if she was OK as she sat up.

“Kid!” Big Mom growled out. Kid came to a stop in front of us. Nami and Usopp let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

“Captain Kid!” They shouted, tears of joy and stars in their eyes.

“Go away, Straw Hats. This bastard…” Kid lifted his metal arm once more, metal from around the room latching onto his arm.

“Is my prey!” He continued. I smiled up at him as he looked down on me from my spot behind Nami, Otama, and Usopp, now noticing that I was here. He blinked a few times, staring at me processing my presence. 

“I’ve been looking for you all over.” He stepped closer to us and held out his non-metal arm beckoning me over. I stepped around the group and got closer to him. His hand came up to caress the side of my face, his thumb sweeping across my cheek.

“You hurt Doll?” He said gruffly. I shook my head ‘no’ and allowed him to press his forehead to mine. He stayed liked that for a moment before pulling away and shoving me behind him.

“Stay out of the way, Doll. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He muttered over his shoulder. I beckoned Nami, Usopp and Otama closer to me, stepping back from the fight. We started to run towards the performance hall I turned to look behind me and saw Kid cracking his neck gearing up to fight. 

“Kick her ass babe!” I yelled as I turned back to face Nami and Usopp. Nami looked over her shoulder to me and smirked at me.

“Doll?” She giggled.

“S-shut up.” I muttered as my cheeks grew hot. 

Time Skip to after the Raid - still on Onigashima

We had watched Kid and Trafalgar Law fight from a room off the performance hall. As soon as they cast Big Mom down that hole the two pirate captains fell to the ground, exhausted.

I ran down the steps towards where Kid was laying on the rubble. Nami, Otama and Usopp followed me, but stopped to fall in with the crowd surrounding the two exhausted pirate captains.

“Kid!” I screamed out, flinging myself onto his body, letting sobs wrack through my body.

“Please don’t scare me like that.” I whispered as I  let my hands curl into fists in his red fur coat. His non-metal arm came up and rested on the back of my head, stroking my hair as the sobs lessened. I could hear murmurs in the crowd, namely from the other pirate crews, wondering who I was.

“Don’t worry Doll, I ain’t going anywhere.” He whispered, placing a kiss against my hair. I smiled and lifted my head to look up at him. He sat up, lifting me with him and keeping me on his lap as he looked over me, assessing me for any injuries.

“What’s this?” He asked, pointing towards the scratch on my cheek. I lifted my hand towards it, remembering what happened.

“We were running from the fire, and I leaped out of the way of a burning piece of wood, landed on the floor, not gracefully, and scuffed my cheek.” I chuckled. He let his thumb graze it gently.

“I’m glad you made it out of this alive, Y/N.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, bringing me into his embrace again.

“Well of course Kid, can’t leave you behind can I?” I said, smirking up at the man, who returned the gesture. He placed a small kiss on the side of my forehead.

[theodoresgirl]

hey I have a request for a Killian jones x female reader where the female reader is Emma’s twin sister (looks more like snow) and has a 3 year old daughter from a past toxic relationship, if you can’t do it that’s fine either way thank you :)

Killian jones x Emma’s twin sister

Killian jones x Fem!Reader

A/n: I did not forget about this request, Sorry it took me a few days to do! Hope you enjoy<3

—————————————————————————

Y/n was the daughter of David Nolan and Mary Margaret. She also is the twin sister of the savior Emma Swan. She grew up being bounced between foster homes in New Orleans. When she was 23 she had gotten into a really toxic relationship, at 25 she got pregnant and had a daughter.

She had been stuck in the toxic relationship until she was 28, She had packed up her and some of her daughters things and left in the middle of the night.

She had silky long black hair that was curly, brown eyes and a round face with dimples. She almost looked like a clone of Mary Margaret. Her daughter Edith had long dark brunette hair with emerald eyes.

Killian had met y/n and her daughter Edith one day when she had went to visit her sister and parents for one of the first times.

⭐️

Thursday June 25th, 12:51pm.

Y/n was sitting on the top deck of the jolly roger with Edith, They were eating some sandwiches from granny’s. They were waiting on Killian to finish cleaning his ship.

Edith was sitting on the edge of the ship walls looking out on the water, Y/n kept her view on her daughter and occasionally if he was in view, glancing at killian. Y/n finishes her sandwich and crumbles up the wrapper putting it into a bag.

Y/n looks around trying to see killian but doesn’t, “can i have your trash princess?” She holds the bag out so Edith can put her trash in it, “and I need you to be on the deck instead of railing so I can go run this up to the dumpster” Edith shakes her head as she puts her trash into the bag.

“I can’t leave you on the railing of the boat- ship? You could fall in the water” “Mermaid” edith looks over the edge. “It doesn’t work that way” She holds Edith back so she doesn’t fall. “I’ll watch her, Don’t worry about it love” Killian came up behind her, startling her. “Oh!- it’s fine- you- You don’t gotta worry about it, Weren’t you cleaning?” she nervously smiled, still not used to someone offering to help her.

“I’m done cleaning, Honestly love we could just head back to your loft if you wanted-“ “i wanna stay” the little one interrupted. Y/n sighed before nodding “i’ll be right back then” she said as she walked down and off the jolly roger.

“Alright then love” Killian smirks and she walks away. He turns towards Edith and leans against the railing of the ship and holds himself up with his elbows. “So what do you like kiddo?” He asked curiously. Edith answered back “Princess, Cartoons, Barbie-“ “I'm gonna have to cut you off there my lady, I have no idea what this ‘barbie’ is, Cartoons too?” Killian admitted. Edith looks at Killian with a confused look, “you don’t know barbie?”. Killian shook his head “what is it?”

“Barbie is movies, some of my favorites” She smiles. “You’ll have to show me one next time I’m over then” Killian pats her head with his hand.

Edith nods and giggles “we can watch a mermaid one” “oh? There’s mermaids?” Killian raises an eyebrow. “yes!! Yes!!” she nods and smiles.

⭐️

Saturday June 27th, 8:00pm

Y/n was laying in the living room with Killian and Edith. Edith was sitting in front of her mother and the pirate watching Barbie: In a Mermaid Tale 2. Killian was laying on the couch with y/n laying on his chest.

Killian had his focus on the tv, only sometimes asking questions about ‘Barbie’, and either getting an answer from the little brunette in front of him or the pale skinned woman in his arms.

After the movie was over both Y/n and Edith were asleep, Killian carefully slips himself out from under Y/n and picks her up. He carries her to her bedroom and lays her down before going out to the living room again and turning everything off. He picks up little Edith and carries her to her room and lays her down, tucking her in, “Goodnight Kiddo.” He muttered as he walked out of the room going into Y/n.