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cloudzoro · 8 months ago

Note

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

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

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

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

Realising He's In Love | ♡

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

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

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

Beckman

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

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

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

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

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

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Buggy

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

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

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

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Crocodile

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

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

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

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dragon

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

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

“Is she ok?”

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

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mihawk

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

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

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

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

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

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Shanks

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

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

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

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Smoker

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#one piece x reader #fem!reader #shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #crocodile x reader #buggy x reader #smoker x reader #dragon x reader #benn beckman x reader #monkey d dragon x reader #sir crocodile x reader #buggy the clown x reader #op x reader

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innerfare · 7 months ago

Text

Playing With Your Nipples - Part 2

Summary: how they play with your nipples

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

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // the obvious + toys (whips and clamps), Shanks is devious, Crocodile is mean with his hook

———

Shanks:

Genuinely doesn’t understand why it’s not acceptable to play with your nipples through your shirt in public. Men grab their girl’s ass all the time in public. Sometimes, they’ll even spank them. And while you protest to him grabbing or swatting your ass in front of the crew, it’s always a halfhearted complaint. But when he starts squeezing your tits and feeling for your nipples… well, suddenly that’s a problem, one he thinks is asinine. If you don’t wear a bra around this man, he will be pinching your nipples, and if he does that, it’s only a matter of time before his mouth is on them, so you really ought to wear a bra. He’s definitely guilty of unclasping your bra in public (magician’s fingers).

Beckman:

He’s not sure what he likes more: you sitting in his lap and feeling him up, or you sitting in his lap and letting him feel you up. But he knows his favorite thing in the world is you sitting in his lap, usually at night or in the early hours of the morning when the rest of the crew is passed out, your shirt on the floor. If your back is pressed into his chest, it’ll be mere seconds before his hands are beneath your shirt and he’s tugging on your nipples, and it won’t be long after that that he’s laying you down on his desk to suck on them. Some of the most desperate moans you’ve pulled out of this man have been as you were grinding into his massive bulge while he sucked on your nipples.

Mihawk:

He enjoys using a whip on your ass every now and then, enjoys the way you squeal when it makes contact with your sensitive skin, and especially enjoys how much harder you seem to cum around his cock when he fucks you afterwards. But it wasn’t until you used it on his chest that it occurred to him to use it on yours, and now he can’t stop spanking your tits, leaning in to kiss your poor nipples between every two or three strikes. He’s merciless in his back and forth, tormenting you then comforting you, over and over again.

Crocodile:

Perhaps his favorite arrangement in the world is you naked and him fully clothed, not so much as a button undone on his shirt. He likes to bark orders at you, telling you which items of clothing to take off when, which now-naked body parts to caress and squeeze and pinch. Then he likes to drag his hook across your naked breasts, watching closely in hopes he can see your heart jump in your chest. And when he fucks you, without exception, his fingers are twisting one of your nipples, and if he can get his mouth around the other, he will, always biting down almost too hard when he cums.

Doflamingo:

He buys all sorts of pretty things to decorate your tits, a menagerie of expensive bras and pieces of body jewelry- silk, lace, velvet, pearls, and gold. He normally destroys these things, if not with his hands than with his mouth, often using shredded scraps of silk or broken strands of pearls as an excuse to punish you, even if he’s the one responsible. And punish you he does, at that point pulling out heavy clamps to torture you, some with little bells, others attached to collars. He also has a stack of close up photographs of your nipples stuck in these little traps, your skin littered with hickies. He's definitely a biter, not a sucker.

Corazon:

So many sweet, gentle kisses it’s unreal. He’s so excited to kiss your lips, never mind your jaw and then the column of your neck. He normally starts out kissing your tits over your shirt because he just needs to get used to it, and then he’s pulling your shirt down and even tugging at your bra, gently kissing your tits and inching toward one of your nipples. His big, warm lips press into it, and you gasp, encouraging him to take it into his mouth. He’s much more of a sucker than a biter, though he might tug on them a bit with his teeth, if only because he’s over excited.

———

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

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece smut #shanks x reader #beckman x reader #Benn Beckman x reader #mihawk x reader #crocodile x reader #doflamingo x reader #corazon x reader #rosinante x reader #shanks #benn beckman #mihawk #sir crocodile #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante

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sh4nksslvt · 1 month ago

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I love shanks so much😭😭

Are you able to write a story where reader is a captain of another crew? Their crew isn’t super famous but aren’t weak either. Their crew is staying at some island and a tavern there when the Red-Haired pirates show up and think that they might try to fight, but reader dgaf and decides to flirt with shanks and stuff. Don’t know if your readers are Gn or female, but could the reader be described as “as beautiful as the ocean” please? I thought that would be cute!

Thank you!

🌊

thats interesting! its not much but hope u like this~~

Trouble Walks In, and So Do You

shanks x reader | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, ocs, flirting, chaotic crews

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff a bit cringe, akward, and confusing

word count: 1.2k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The tavern on Bellmouth Island had never known peace.

It was tucked into the port side of the island like a cozy scar—weathered, stubborn, and full of bad decisions marinated in rum. But even Bellmouth’s most seasoned barkeep hadn’t seen anything quite like The Siren’s Fang crew.

“Hey, Cap! Tall guy passed out again!” barked Kiji, the squad’s medic, gesturing to a pile of limbs slumped over a barstool.

“Is he breathing this time?” you asked lazily, twirling a glass of rum in your hand. You sat at the tavern’s center table, leg slung over the arm of your chair, adorned in sleek leather and gold-trimmed cloth, eyes half-lidded with amusement.

“Barely,” muttered Azel, your cook-slash-unofficial-grim-reaper, poking the unconscious man with a ladle. “He mistook my hot sauce for syrup. Natural selection.”

“His fault,” you sighed.

You were Captain [Y/N], the woman many whispered about as beautiful as the ocean—mysterious, wild, and just as likely to drown you as smile at you. The Siren’s Fang wasn’t a household name like the Straw Hats or the Emperors, but in the Grand Line’s undercurrent, your reputation had teeth. Rumors swirled of your crew taking down a fleet from Big Mom’s remnants and sinking a marine battleship like it was a toy boat in a bathtub.

Still, fame didn’t interest you. Fun did.

And Bellmouth was fun—cheap booze, rowdy locals, and just enough lawlessness to feel like home.

That was until the door slammed open.

Wind howled through the tavern. Bottles rattled. Even the drunks perked up.

The Red-Haired Pirates had arrived.

You didn’t need to look. You felt it. That magnetic, crackling air of too-powerful people walking into a space too small to contain them.

Shanks led the way, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other resting on his hip as he scanned the tavern with lazy mirth. His crew spilled in behind him—Benn Beckman, Lucky Roux, Yasopp, the works.

Ten seconds passed. Then—

“Welp. Guess we’re fighting,” muttered Neri, your tactician, flipping her dagger.

“Can’t we go one week without a legendary crew showing up?” grumbled Hyun, your shipwright, who’d just managed to tape a window back together.

“Don't break my chairs,” called the barkeep, already ducking behind the bar.

You, meanwhile, took a sip of rum.

And then, slowly, gracefully, rose to your feet.

"Are we fighting?" asked Benn, eyes narrowing slightly.

Shanks tilted his head in your direction, gaze locking onto yours.

You didn’t draw your sword.

You smiled.

“No,” you said, voice like velvet. “But I do have something else in mind.”

The room collectively blinked.

You strolled toward them with the ease of a queen and the chaos of a siren in full swing. “You must be Red-Haired Shanks,” you purred, eyes scanning him with undisguised appreciation. “You're taller than I expected. That’s... hot.”

A pause.

Then—someone from your crew let out a wheeze of disbelief. Probably Toma. He’d bet two crates of rum you’d deck Shanks on sight.

Shanks arched a brow, lips twitching. “Not the usual greeting I get from a rival pirate captain.”

“I’m not your rival,” you said, stopping only a breath away from him. You craned your head up, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Unless you want me to be. Enemies to lovers? That your thing?”

Lucky Roux choked on his drink.

Shanks actually laughed, the rich, boisterous sound of someone genuinely caught off guard.

“Captain,” Benn said dryly, “I think we’re being hit on.”

“DAHAHA I know, right?” Shanks grinned. “This is way more fun than usual.”

Your crew was now in a full-on state of stunned chaos.

“I—she just flirted with a Yonko. Casually. Like she was ordering a drink,” Kiji mumbled.

“She’s going to get us killed,” muttered Neri.

“No,” corrected Hyun, “she’s going to get laid.”

“Pfft—HA!”

Meanwhile, Shanks tilted his head. “So what’s your name, Ocean Eyes?”

You gave him your full title, adding, “Captain of The Siren’s Fang. And yes, I live up to the name.”

“Mm.” He leaned in just slightly. “Should I be worried you’re trying to lure me onto the rocks?”

“I’m trying to lure you onto something, that’s for sure.”

Yasopp nearly fell off his stool.

Benn facepalmed. Lucky Roux laughed so hard he snorted beer through his nose.

“Join us for a drink?” you offered innocently. “Or are you too scared I’ll make you fall in love with me?”

Shanks held your gaze for one beat. Two. Then smiled.

“I’ve done dumber things.”

And just like that, the Red-Haired Pirates sat down with the Siren’s Fang.

Tension left the room like steam off hot rum. Chairs screeched. Drinks clinked. Somewhere, your sniper was trying to discreetly message your ship’s chronicler: CAPTAIN IS FLIRTING WITH SHANKS, SEND HELP.

“...And then the marine tries to arrest me, right? While I’m naked. In the bath!” Shanks crowed, halfway through a bottle of rum, hair falling into his eyes.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, clutching your side. “Please tell me you fought him like that.”

“I slipped! Broke his nose falling out of the tub!”

You and your crew howled.

A few tables down, Benn and Neri were having a quiet intellectual standoff that involved a lot of maps and dry sarcasm. Yasopp and Hyun were arguing over gun specs. Toma was getting arm-wrestled into oblivion by Lucky Roux. It was, in short, a tavern apocalypse.

“You’re fun,” Shanks murmured, voice low, only for you.

You tilted your head. “You expected me to be scary.”

“I expected you to swing first and ask questions never.”

“Ah. That’s just on Wednesdays.”

He chuckled. “You’re dangerous.”

“You like that,” you teased.

“I do,” he admitted. “But be honest. Is this all just to distract me while your crew steals our booze?”

You sipped your drink with a wink. “What do you think?”

From across the room, a yell: “WE’VE TAKEN THE BEER STORAGE!”

“DAMN IT, KOKO!”

Shanks stared.

You said nothing.

He grinned. “Marry me?”

“Buy me a boat first.”

“You already have a ship.”

“Yeah, but I want a red one.”

As the night wore on, chaos bloomed into something almost tender. The two crews, pirates feared across the seas, were now doing karaoke with a broken lute and a guy named Phil.

You leaned against the tavern doorway, watching the madness. The moonlight brushed your skin like seafoam, your hair tousled by the salt-laced wind.

Shanks joined you silently.

“You’re really not what I expected,” he said.

“Disappointed?”

He shook his head. “Enchanted.”

You turned your head to him, eyes soft now. “You’re pretty smooth for a pirate.”

“I’m usually drunker.”

You laughed, then reached up, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “You know, Red, if I weren’t a captain…”

“Yeah?”

“I’d ask you to run away with me.”

He caught your wrist gently, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If I weren’t a Yonko,” he murmured, “I’d say yes.”

For a moment, it felt like the sea held its breath.

Then someone inside yelled, “THE CAPTAIN AND SHANKS ARE MAKING EYES AT EACH OTHER AGAIN!”

“TAKE PICTURES!”

“START THE WEDDING SONG!”

You and Shanks groaned in unison.

“Back to the madness?” he offered.

“Only if you dance with me.”

“Deal.”

And so the two of you dove back into the tavern storm, laughing, flirting, half-dancing, half-sparring with words, like the sea and sky in a constant, chaotic waltz.

No declarations. No promises.

Just two captains in the eye of a storm they both enjoyed far too much.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #fluff #idk man #idk what im doing #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #red hair shanks

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avdxl · 3 months ago

Text

The Red King's Prize- 18+! SMUT

summary: Y/N made a grave mistake when meeting Shanks. She caught his interest.

A/N: Summaries are hard. Hopefully the story is better lol.

pairing: Shanks X Female!Reader

wc: 5301

C/W: dubcon(?) just to be safe. kidnapping towards then end. slight overstimulation.

"Look lively, my sons!" bellowed the ship's captain. The crew of the Moby scurried about the deck, securing ropes and swabbing the planks. Whitebeard had a gentle but firm voice that could be heard over the crash of waves. His eyes twinkled with the excitement of a pirate's life, and his laugh lines deepened as he surveyed his men.

"Is that Akagami's ship?" one of the crew members shouted, pointing to the speck of red growing larger with each passing moment. The air was filled with a mix of excitement and tension. Shanks was a legend among legends, and his visits were never without incident.

"Aye, it is!" confirmed Whitebeard, squinting into the distance. His daughter, Y/N, emerged from the cabin, her curiosity piqued. She was a young woman with a spirit that matched her father's. "It's been too long since we had good company," he said, ruffling her hair.

"Father, what's so special about Shanks?" she asked, watching the ship draw closer. The name alone was enough to make the most hardened pirates whisper in awe.

Whitebeard turned to her, his gaze softening. "Shanks is a good man, he’s also a friend of sorts, as well as a powerful man." he said, his voice filled with a hint of pain and nostalgia. "But remember, he's got a peculiar sense of humor. Don't take anything he says to heart."

The ships docked with a thud that echoed through the Moby's wooden hull. Shanks' crew, a motley bunch of men, swaggered onto the deck, their captain at the forefront. Shanks was a tall man, with a mischievous glint in his eye and three scars that slashed across his eye.

"Whitebeard, my old friend!" he called out, a wide grin splitting his face. The two men embraced, their laughter booming through the salty air. The crew of the Moby watched as the two pirate lords exchanged greetings like old comrades.

Y/N, feeling a bit shy, hovered at the edge of the group, taking in the scene. That's when she felt it - a pair of eyes on her, assessing her from head to toe. She looked up and met Shanks' gaze. His smile didn't falter, but his eyes held a darker, more intense look than she was expecting. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"And who is this beauty?" Shanks asked, his eyes never leaving hers. The question hung in the air, and she felt the weight of his stare.

Whitebeard beamed with pride. "This is my daughter, Y/N."

The crew grew silent. The air grew thicker, charged with an energy she couldn't quite put her finger on. Shanks stepped forward, his boots thudding heavily on the wooden planks. He extended a hand to her, and she took it, feeling the rough calluses of a seasoned pirate.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N," he said, his grip firm. There was something about the way he said her name, something that made her feel both thrilled and uneasy. As he leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek, he whispered, "We're going to have some fun together, you and I."

The crew erupted into laughter, slapping each other's backs and shouting toasts. But Y/N felt the seriousness behind his words. It was as if he had made a silent promise, or perhaps a veiled threat. She couldn't tell which.

The evening grew dark, and the stars twinkled above like scattered jewels on a velvet cloak. The two crews drank and sang, sharing tales of adventure and treasure. Yet, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that this night was the start of something she didn't quite understand. Shanks remained by her side, his presence both comforting and unsettling.

As the party began to wind down, and the crew members stumbled back to their quarters, Y/N made her way to her cabin, her thoughts racing. She was tired, but the anticipation of the night's events kept her from finding peace. Shanks, ever the gentleman, insisted on seeing Y/N to her door. His boisterous laughter grew quieter as they descended the stairs, the shadows stretching out before them like the arms of the sea at night.

The corridor grew still, the only sound the distant echo of the ocean's lullaby. Y/N turned the knob and pushed the door open, the candlelight inside casting a warm glow onto the wooden floor. She stepped in, expecting Shanks to bid her goodnight, but instead, he followed her, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt a flutter of panic, but she stood her ground, refusing to show fear.

"I've been watching you all night," he said, his tone hushed. "There's something about you, something... intriguing." He stepped closer, the scent of rum and saltwater clinging to his clothes. Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, unsure of what was happening. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I intend to find out."

Before she could respond, Shanks reached out and touched her cheek gently, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. The gesture was so tender it sent a shiver through her body. She looked into his eyes, searching for a hint of his intentions, but all she found was an enigmatic smile. He leaned in, his breath warm and sweet with the scent of the fine wine they'd shared earlier. His lips brushed against hers in a kiss that was as soft as a whisper, yet it seemed to echo through the very core of her being.

The kiss was unexpected, but Y/N didn't pull away. Instead, she found herself leaning into it, feeling the promise of something powerful stirring within her. As they parted, she realized that she had been holding her breath. Shanks' gaze remained locked on hers, and she felt a strange warmth spread through her, as if she had just uncovered a hidden treasure. The moment hung between them, and for a second, Y/N's mind went blank.

Emboldened by the kiss and the emotions it stirred, Shanks decided to push the boundaries further. His hand reached for her waist, pulling her into his muscular embrace. His touch was firm, yet not forceful. It was as if he was testing the waters, gauging her reaction. The air grew thick with tension, and she could feel the warmth of his body against hers.

Shanks released a low growl, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. He no longer bothered with pleasantries or sweet talk; there was no more need for such trivialities between them. Y/N's breath hitched as she felt his arousal pressing against her stomach. His grip tightened, a silent demand for her submission, and she felt herself melt into his touch, her body craving him.

He spun her around, her back pressing against the cold, hard wood of the cabin wall. His mouth found hers in a bruising kiss, his teeth biting into her lower lip just hard enough to draw a gasp. His hand tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. He kissed and licked along her throat, leaving a trail of heat that made her shiver with need. His hand leaving her hair and roaming down her body, cupping her ass and squeezing roughly, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

"Pops won't be happy if he sees us like this," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the gentle rocking of the ship.

Shanks chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to resonate in her very bones. "Let's not worry about that just yet," he said, his voice smooth as silk. He leaned in again, his lips finding hers again demanding, full of passion and a hint of something darker.

Y/N's resolve wavered. She knew she should push him away, but instead, she found herself responding, her own hands moving up to tangle in his hair. The kiss grew deeper, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. She could feel the heat of his desire, and it ignited something within her that she had never felt before. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once.

Finally, she managed to break away, gasping for air. "We can't," she said, her voice trembling. "This isn't right."

Shanks leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Why not?" he asked, his hand still resting on her bare waist. "You're a pirate. Surely, you know that life at sea is about seizing moments of pleasure when they come."

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "Because... because my dad—."

He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Whitebeard and I are more than just friendly, Y/N. We share something deeper, more akin to brothers. Plus.." His hand slid up her side, and she felt his thumb trace the edge of her bra strap. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to know you better."

His words were like a siren's song, tempting and dangerous. She knew she should resist, but the desire within her was growing too strong. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she had made up her mind.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But only if you promise to keep this between us."

Shanks' smile grew sharper, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. He leaned in, his breath hot on her neck. "I can do that," he murmured, deftly unbuttoning her dress. It slid to the floor, and she stepped out of it, feeling the cool air of the cabin kiss her skin.

Without warning, he hoisted her onto the bed, the mattress groaned under their combined weight, the springs protesting as he began to grind his hips into her. The friction between their bodies sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, and she moaned into his mouth. His hand traveled up to her chest, squeezing her breast until she whimpered. His thumb flicked over her hardened nipple, sending an electric shock straight to her core.

Shanks' hand then slid down to the apex of her thighs, pushing aside the damp fabric that barely contained her arousal. He groaned into her ear, feeling how wet she was for him. His fingers teased her clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles that had her writhing beneath him. Y/N's nails dug into his back as she tried to pull him closer, needing more, always more. He chuckled darkly, enjoying the way she squirmed in his grasp. He knew he had her right where he wanted her; desperate and begging for release.

The moment his finger slid inside her, she threw her head back, arching off the bed. He pumped in and out, adding another digit, stretching her until she was ready for what was to come. Her pussy clenched around his digits, her inner walls quivering with anticipation. The room was filled with the sounds of their harsh breathing and the slick noises of his hand moving within her. He could feel her muscles tightening, her orgasm building like a storm about to break.

Y/N's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and excitement. She had never been with a man before, and she had always thought it would be with someone she knew, someone she trusted. But here she was, in the grasp of the notorious Shanks, a stranger she's only vaguely heard about, feeling a passion that she had only ever dreamed of.

Y/N tried to keep up, her own desires spiraling out of control. But she could feel the shift in him, the way his kisses turned from tender to bruising, his hand moving from exploratory to possessive. A part of her wanted to stop, to demand gentleness, but the thrill of the forbidden and the power she felt in his embrace kept her from speaking. Suddenly, she was aware of his weight pressing down on her, his body a wall of heat and strength that made her feel both protected and trapped.

Shanks wasn't done with her yet. He withdrew his hand, leaving her panting and needy. He undid his pants with a swift movement, his cock springing free. It was thick and hard, a testament to his desire. He positioned himself at her entrance, pausing for a moment to enjoy the view of her flushed skin and glazed eyes. Shanks didn't waste any time, pushing aside the last barrier of her innocence with a grunt of pleasure. The pain was sharp, but it was quickly overridden by the sheer force of his desire. He set a brutal pace, his hips slapping against hers with a rhythm that was as relentless as the waves outside. The sounds of their union filled the cabin, a symphony of flesh and passion that seemed to resonate with the very soul of the ship.

Y/N's eyes widened as she felt herself stretched to the limits, her body struggling to keep up with his. Yet, with each thrust, she felt a strange, primal satisfaction blooming within her. It was as if she had been waiting for this all her life, waiting to be claimed by a man who could match her in strength and spirit.

Y/N's scream of pleasure was muffled by the pillow she'd buried her face in, her body shuddering around him. Shanks's hips continued to slam into her, the bed frame rattling with the force of his movements. Each thrust hit her G-spot with unerring precision, sending bolts of pleasure through her body. Her walls clamped down around him, trying to keep him inside her as he withdrew, only to be filled again and again. She could feel herself climbing towards climax, the pressure building with each violent collision of their bodies.

His one good hand continued to maul her breast, pinching and pulling at her nipple until she thought she might go mad with need. The hand that had been in her hair now held her face, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were dark with lust, the scars around his eye standing out starkly against his flushed skin.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a guttural rumble that seemed to resonate through her very bones. "You'll always be mine."

Her breathing grew ragged as she felt his urgency, his need to claim her. His kisses turned almost violent, as if he was afraid she would slip away. It was overwhelming, and she clung to him, as she tried to find an anchor in the storm of sensations.

Her cries grew louder, mingling with the grunts of his exertion. The cabin walls seemed to close in around them, the air thick with the scent of lust and the salt of the sea. She could feel the tension building, a coil of heat and need that was threatening to consume her.

The possessiveness in his words sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her like a tidal wave, making her entire body convulse. She screamed his name, her nails raking down his back, drawing blood. He didn't flinch, just grinned, his eyes alight with triumph. He knew she was his, body and soul.

And as he continued to pound into her, her body still spasming around his cock, she couldn't help but admit that she liked it. Liked being claimed so fiercely, so completely, by this man who could take everything from her and give her the world in return. The world of pleasure and pain, of love and obsession, of being his in every conceivable way.

Shanks growled, his movements becoming even more frantic. He was close, she could feel it. The warmth of his breath against her ear was the only sound she could discern amidst the cacophony of their passion.

And then, with a final roar, he reached his peak, filling her to the brim with his seed. Y/N's eyes widened as she felt the warmth spreading inside her, the reality of what had just transpired crashing down like a tempest. She had given herself to this man, this enigma of power and darkness, and she wasn't sure if she would ever be the same.

Shanks' weight remained on her for a moment, his breathing heavy and ragged, as if he had fought a fierce battle and emerged the victor, but his desire for her was a never-ending maelstrom that she was all too eager to drown in. He flipped her onto her stomach, her cheek pressed into the pillow, her ass in the air. His hand slapped down on her flesh, leaving a red imprint that only added to the heat building between her legs. He positioned himself behind her, his cock nudging at her entrance. With a savage grunt, he thrust into her again, filling her completely.

The angle was different this time, deeper, hitting places inside her that had never been touched before. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he began to move, his strokes long and slow, almost tender despite his feral hunger. He reached around, his hand finding her clit, his fingers working it in time with his hips. She was so sensitive now, so close to the edge, that it only took a few moments before she was climaxing once more, her body shaking with the intensity of it.

As he came, he pulled out and immediately slammed back in, pushing his cum back into her with a brutal force that made her whine. His hand was a vice around her neck now, holding her down as he continued to fuck her through his orgasm. He didn't care if it was painful; all he knew was that he needed to be as deep inside her as possible, needed to fill her up with his seed. It was a declaration of ownership, a promise of what was to come.

He didn't stop, though. If anything, his movements grew more frenzied, more possessive. He was breeding her, marking her in the most primal way possible. His cock pulsed inside her, filling her with his seed, claiming her womb. He groaned with the effort, his grip on her tight enough to leave bruises. Y/N could feel every inch of him, making her his in every way that mattered.

When he was finally spent, he collapsed onto her, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress. His chest heaved with exertion, his breath hot against her neck. For a moment, there was only the sound of the ocean outside and their mingled gasps. Then, slowly, he began to move again, his cock still half-hard, still buried within her. He was not content, not yet satisfied until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

His hips rolled in a gentle, almost loving motion, his hand stroking her back in a soothing pattern that belied the aggression of their earlier coupling. Y/N felt a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the heat of their passion. It was a strange kind of contentment, one she hadn't felt in a long time. Despite the dubious circumstances of their relationship, she knew that she craved this, craved him.

With a final, deep thrust, Shanks withdrew from her, his cock slick with their combined juices. He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she straddled his waist.. "Ride me," he ordered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

The silence was deafening, the only sound was the soft lapping of the sea against the ship's hull.

Giving her a moment to catch her breath, he watched her, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. The intensity in his gaze made her feel as though she was a treasure he had just plundered, a prize to be savored and claimed again. Then, with a sudden, surprising gentleness, he reached out and traced the curve of her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.

"Don't be afraid," he murmured.

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to find the words to express the tumult of emotions that were storming through her. Before she could speak, however, Shanks positioned himself at her entrance, and she felt the head of his cock nudge against her, still sensitive and swollen from their first coupling.

With a smirk that was both playful and predatory, he grabbed her again and thrust upwards, filling her once more. She gasped, her eyes flying open wide in shock and pleasure. She began to rock her hips, setting a slow pace that had them both groaning in ecstasy. His fingers gripped her waist, guiding her movements, urging her to go faster, harder. The cabin spun around her as she gave herself over to the feeling of him inside her, his cock hitting all the right spots, over and over again.

Her breasts bounced with each movement, the pain from his earlier mauling a sweet reminder of his possession. She leaned forward and took his mouth in another hungry kiss. Their tongues danced together, a false battle for dominance that mirrored their physical union. She could feel his pulse beneath her, the beat of his heart matching the tempo of their lovemaking.

Shanks's hand found her breasts again, kneading and squeezing them as she rode him. His thumb brushing over her sensitive nipples, sending sparks of pleasure to her clit. She moaned into his mouth, her walls tightening around his shaft. He groaned, his hips bucking up to meet hers, his own need for release growing more urgent.

Their rhythm grew faster, more erratic, as they approached their peak. Y/N's nails dug into his chest, leaving behind hints of pain that only seemed to fuel his desire. She threw her head back, her eyes rolling back in her head as another orgasm began to build. Shanks watched her face, his own twisted with pleasure, his grip on her hips tightening as he felt his own climax approaching.

With a final, powerful thrust, she ground herself against him, her muscles spasming around his cock as she reached her peak. Shanks roared his release, his hips jerking up to meet hers, his cum flooding her once more. They remained like that for a moment, locked in a passionate embrace, their bodies joined in the most intimate way possible.

But Shanks wasn't one to rest for long. He flipped her onto her back, his eyes never leaving hers as he began to kiss down her body. His mouth found her breasts, sucking and biting, his tongue swirling around her nipples. His hand traveled between her legs, his fingers sliding through her wetness and back into her. She gasped, her body already on edge from the last orgasm.

"I said all night," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "And we've only just begun."

Y/N knew she was in for a long night of pleasure and pain. She could feel the exhaustion tugging at her, but the desire that burned in her was stronger. She wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him back inside her, eager for more. He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin, and gave her what she wanted. His cock slammed into her again, hard and fast, setting a pace that she knew she wouldn't be able to keep up with for long.

Shanks' fingers dug into her flesh, guiding her as he plunged into her time and again. Her orgasms came in waves, each one more powerful than the last, her cries echoing through the cabin. He watched her face, his own a mask of concentration and desire, his eyes never leaving hers, as if he was searching for something within the depths of her soul.

Hour after hour, he took her, switching positions with an ease that spoke of long practice. He was relentless, driving her to climax after climax until she could hardly move, until she was nothing but a quivering mess of pleasure and pain. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair plastered to her face.

He fucked her like a toy, a possession to be used and enjoyed at his leisure.Yet, she never once asked him to stop. She reveled in the feeling of being used, of being his. Her pussy clenched around his cock, her walls fluttering. It was messy, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, the bed soaked beneath them. She never felt more alive, it was like she was the center of his world, the focus of his insatiable hunger.

Shanks's touch grew rougher as the night wore on, his kisses bruising, his grip on her body punishing. He took her in every way he could think of, pushing her limits until she thought she would break. Yet, she didn't. Each time she thought she couldn't handle any more, she found a deeper well of strength within herself, a need to satisfy him that overrode any discomfort or weariness.

The room was filled with the sounds of their lovemaking: the slap of skin on skin, the wet sounds of their union, the guttural noises of their pleasure. Y/N's cries grew louder, more desperate, as Shanks pounded into her. He was like a force of nature, unstoppable and primal in his need for release. And she was more than willing to be swept away by the storm.

He whispered dark, possessive things in her ear, his breath hot and ragged. He told her she belonged to him, that she would always come back for more, that she craved this just as much as he did. And as much as she tried to deny it, she knew he was right. Her body responded to him like nothing else ever had, her orgasms more intense, more all-consuming than any she had experienced before. There would be no escape from his obsession, no refuge from the storm of passion that was Shanks.

Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, as if they had been lovers for a hundred lifetimes, and yet this was the first night they had ever shared. It was a dance of dominance and submission, of passion and power, and she found herself lost in it, unable to do anything but give herself over to the storm that raged between them.

As the night slowly crept day, their rhythm grew more frenzied, their cries melding with the cries of the gulls outside. She felt as if she was being torn apart, only to be reborn in the cradle of his arms, a creature of the sea, forever bound to this man of darkness and fire.

Shanks' grip on her hips tightened as he claimed his own release shuddering through his body.

As dawn began to break, painting the horizon in shades of pink and gold, Shanks rolled her onto her side, his cock still buried deep within her. His hand found her clit, his thumb stroking it with a finesse that belied the brutal passion of the night. He whispered sweet nothings, his voice a soothing balm to her overstimulated senses.

Y/N's eyes grew heavy, her body begging for rest. But she knew it wouldn't come just yet. His obsession with her was a never-ending cycle of desire and fulfillment. As she felt herself drifting off, she was already anticipating the next round, the next time he would take her, claim her, use her. It was a small price to pay for the exhilarating experience she had just shared with the legendary pirate

Reality started to set in. Y/N felt a cold dread coil in her stomach. She had given herself to Shanks, an act that would have repercussions she could not begin to fathom. She could feel the intensity of his gaze as he held her against him. His chest was a wall of heat, his breaths coming in ragged gasps against her neck. Her body was sore.. Carefully, she tried to disentangle herself, but he held fast, his grip unyielding.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. She stiffened, not daring to look back at him. "Our time is far from over," he added with a chuckle, his hand sliding down to cup her breast.

Panic set in as she realized she couldn't escape. Not now, not like this. Her father's cabin was just a few doors down, but she knew that calling for help was out of the question. Shanks was too powerful, too dangerous. If Whitebeard found out about their tryst, it could mean war between the two pirate crews.

So, when he finally dragged her to his feet and led her, still naked, to the upper deck, she didn't protest. The crew of the Moby went about their morning routines, not sparing them a second glance. It was as if they had known this would happen all along, as if her fate had been sealed the moment Shanks had stepped aboard.

The air was crisp and salty, the sea breeze a stark contrast to the warmth of the cabin. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting the world in a soft, golden light. It was a beautiful sight, but one she couldn't appreciate. Not when she was being led like a lamb to slaughter.

Whitebeard was at the railing, his back to them. He didn't turn as they approached, didn't acknowledge them in any way. Y/N felt herself shiver, it was as though this was the only outcome, as if it was always going to end this way.

Shanks' grip on her arm was firm, almost painful, but she kept her head held high, refusing to let the fear show on her face. The silence was deafening as Shanks' ship, the Red Force, loomed into view, its sails fluttering like a crimson flag of conquest. The crew of the Moby had already lowered the ropes, Shanks stepped onto the plank first, pulling her along with him. The wood groaned under their combined weight, the plank swaying precariously over the churning sea below.

Y/N's heart was in her throat as she looked back at her father's ship, the only home she had ever known. The men she had grown up with, the men she called her brothers, were watching her leave with the enemy. Yet, none of them made a move to stop it.

The plank hit the deck of the Red Haired with a thud, and she stumbled, almost falling. Shanks caught her, his laughter echoing in the early morning air. "Steady, love," he said, his tone mocking. "You're going to have to get your sea legs if you're going to keep up with me."

The Red-Haired Pirates watched with amusement, their eyes glinting with a mix of lust and cruelty. She knew she was in for a rough ride with these men, but she also knew she had no choice. As Shanks led her to his quarters, she steeled herself for what was to come.

The cabin was opulent, a stark contrast to the spartan rooms of the Moby. Plush fabrics and gold trim adorned everything, from the velvet curtains to the intricately carved desk. It was a den of excess, a reflection of the man who owned it.

Shanks released her arm and she stumbled forward, her legs still unsteady. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move with a predatory gaze. "Welcome to your new home," he said, his smile wicked.

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes taking in every detail of the room. There was no going back now. She was Shanks' prize, his plaything. The daughter of Whitebeard, claimed by the very man who might one day seek to usurp her father's throne. And she had willingly let it happen.

The door slammed shut behind them, and she knew she was truly in his clutches.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece smut #shanks x reader #shanks smut #female!reader #one piece x female reader

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 6 months ago

Text

Paper Pirates

MDNI

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

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

It was supposed to be a one-shot.

There are many roads to piracy.

Paperwork shouldn’t be one of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even if you’re only half-crew.

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

Except. Well. There was always…

“Nerd!”

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

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

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

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

Yasopp shakes his head. Grins. “Orders.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Benn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Steady.” Benn watches with his arms crossed.

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

Until now.

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

You can’t go to bed.

There is no bed.

Benn doesn’t seem surprised when you come back.

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

Technically speaking, you’ve slept in worse places.

Realistically speaking, you usually sleep in better.

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

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

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

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

“What’s eating ya?”

“Mosquitoes, maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

He makes things better. Things grow under his care.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They gave you a strange job.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pirates aren’t big on feelings talk.

And you’re at least half a pirate.

“Eh, nerd still can’t hold her rum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And if they never come back?

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

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

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

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

“Do you realize how frustrating you are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown.

You think.

And you realize.

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

Oh, gods.

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

You love Shanks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader #one piece x reader #shanks x you #one piece fanfiction #fic: paper pirates

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layla4567 · 2 months ago

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Shanks with a Fem!dancer

I was on Pinterest and I found these videos and then this idea popped into my head.

Summary: Shanks meets a dancer in a bar and becomes infatuated with her.

Warnings: smut time 👀, cunnilingus, p in v, no protection (use protection pls), rough make out, fingering, face fucking, riding, age gap kinda (both of legal age tho), Shanks only has one arm this time, at first I used the third narrator instead of the second one unintentionally, use of y/n, cursing

Wc: 2k

Shanks had just set foot in a new town and as usual he thought of drinking in a bar so he could feel truly welcome and at home. He saw the nearest tavern and without thinking twice he entered smiling and confident that the alcohol in that place would be strong enough to burn his throat. Inside, it was packed with people, but they didn't seem to be paying attention to the bar, but rather to a small stage in the center with red velvet curtains. A girl dressed in a long skirt and blouse that left her shoulders and collarbones exposed was standing there smiling at the audience. The captain hesitated, and without taking his eyes off the young woman, he walked over to a stool and ordered a beer. Suddenly, she put her fingers to her mouth and whistled loudly like a morning bird to get attention. And she began to dance, her hands clasping her skirt, her feet moving rhythmically, making small jumps, almost seeming to float. Shanks couldn't take his eyes off her, just like everyone else. Her beauty and movements were captivating; the woman oozed confidence and joy. As the speed of her dance increased, the people began to clap and cheer to the beat of the drums. Almost at the end, she began to spin like a top, but she did it with such grace, combining arm and head movements, making her loose hair wave, that it almost seemed effortless. Anyone else in her position would have looked clumsy and unbalanced. Finally, the girl stopped in place, breathing heavily but with a wide, joyful smile on her face. The audience applauded wildly, and she gave them several bows and blew kisses with her fingertips. After the girl stepped off the stage to head backstage, Shanks seemed to have recovered from his trance and whistled softly, completely amazed. He blinked several times and only then realized his beer was almost full. That performance seemed to have frozen him in time. In one big gulp, he drank what was left in his cup, feeling the warmth of the alcohol in his veins. That gave him the courage to head backstage now that the bar seemed quieter and emptier. Behind the curtains was a medium-sized windowless room with a brown door in the center. Shanks knocked and waited impatiently. When you opened the door, he already had his best gallant smile on. "Is this heaven or why am I seeing an angel in front of me?" the captain said mischievously. Far from being angry or disliking that clichéd compliment, you smiled. Very few men dared to speak to you without stuttering. Your aura was always striking, captivating, and a little intimidating, so you admired his confidence and courage. You sensed that he also had a bit of that hypnotic energy, and your intuition never failed you. You opened the door a little wider and leaned an arm against the frame. "Alright, wonder boy, what can I do for you?" You smiled, blinking slowly. Shanks was tempted to get closer to you but held back, staying in place. "I just wanted to meet the beautiful lady behind those dance moves." You laughed "Well, you're already watching her, did you come just for that or do you have other intentions?" You looked him up and down and he smiled biting his bottom lip, now Shanks took a step closer "Maybe, that would bother you?" You pouted thoughtfully. "Let's just say it wouldn't be the first time a handsome man wants something from me." Shanks tilted his head slightly, "So, what would you say if I asked you out on a date?" You moved closer to him, feeling his face close to yours. "Better, what would YOU say if I invited you to see me every day at my performances?" The captain licked his lips. "Oh sweetheart, I was going to do it anyway." Smiling, you stepped back and held the door again, ready to close it. "Good, I'll see you there." The redhead, still smiling dazedly, suddenly realized that you were about to kick him out and quickly asked, "Wait, what's your name?" Instead of answering you replied with another question "What's yours?"

"Shanks"

"Y/N" you smiled

Now you closed the door slowly. Shanks stared at the closed door for a few seconds, sighing until he walked away, still feeling the heat in his veins even though the effect of the alcohol had worn off several minutes ago.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The following days, Shanks returned to that bar to see the woman who had so amazed him perform. Each performance made it harder to get you out of his head. He soon discovered that you would dance to anything your heart felt like, even belly dancing. It seemed like your dancing skills and knowledge had no limits.

One afternoon, he walked into your dressing room holding a red rose. When you opened the door, the first thing you saw was the flower, then his smiling, radiant face.

"Is this for me?"

"Of course, a flower for another even more beautiful flower"

"Why thank you, I'm flattering"

While you smelled the flower with a smile Shanks scanned your body from top to bottom, you were wearing a low-waisted skirt that left your hips exposed and a pearl bra that enhanced your bust. When you felt his gaze pierce you, you snapped your fingers in front of him, making him blink.

"Hey! My eyes are up here" you teased.

He chuckles a little embarrassed "You're right, sorry" he smiled

Before closing the door, you gave him a goodbye kiss, which he hadn't expected but enjoyed deeply. The following days, he continued to visit you at the same bar. The red-haired captain didn't usually stay in one place for so long, but for you, he made an exception. You had him wrapped around your finger; you had captivated him body and soul, but you had also submitted to his charms. From the day he gave you the rose, Shanks noticed that you wore it in your hair at every dance, in full view of everyone, as a silent reminder of who your heart belonged to.

It got to the point where Shanks couldn't take it anymore and invited you to his ship for the night.

"Are you sure you want to take that risk?" There was a hint of defiance in your voice.

Shanks' desire to caress you and mark his territory on you grew stronger and harder to control.

He tried to suppress his eagerness "That's not a risk for me, unless you don't dare" he mocked.

That comment hurt your pride a little, so with your chin held high, you agreed to go with him. Shanks smirked and pulled at your wrist without waiting for you to grab something or change your mind.

It was already night when you ran out of the bar like fugitives. You boarded the boat, and the captain, without letting go of you, guided you to his quarters.

"Sorry love, I couldn't wait any longer" He growled eagerly

"But the crew is sleeping, what if they hear us?"

Shanks brought his body dangerously close to yours and you felt his breath on your ear.

"You'll have to be quiet"

Immediately afterwards, the captain, with his nose under your jaw, lifted your chin to make room for his hungry mouth, which began to run desperate kisses down your neck. His hot breath tickled you and made your skin prickle. He cornered you against the door and pressed his body even closer against yours, fitting together like a puzzle. The tight bulge in his pants pushing against your core made you gasp, and you grabbed onto his shoulders with your nails. Shanks growled softly now, his lips moving toward yours. When his mouth found yours, a fierce battle for dominance of the other's tongue began. Shanks's hand firmly grabbed your thigh and lifted it to help you wrap your legs around his waist. You never thought he had so much strength despite having only one arm.

His tight groin kept pushing and rubbing into your intimacy through your clothes which made you moan into his mouth.

"If you want that, just ask." he exhaled on your lips between kisses

Now his hand was traveling dangerously along the inside of your thigh very close to your core, you closed your eyes enjoying his touch

"Yes please, gimme more.." you moaned

Shanks smiled against the skin of your shoulder and without letting you move from your position he simply pressed his hips against yours to stabilize you against the wall and prevent you from falling and with his hand he began to lower the elastic of your skirt to your knees. Without stopping kissing your shoulder he slid a hand over your underwear and groped your privacy making you moan slightly

"We just started and you're already so wet for me" he chuckled softly

Without waiting for a response, he began rubbing your entrance with his thumb. Even with your clothes or underwear on, you could feel the warmth of his finger touching your wetness. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans that bubbled in your throat, wanting to get out.

"What's wrong? You won't say anything?" He teased mischievously.

You didn't respond. You just frowned and closed your eyes, trying to hide the pleasure he was causing you. He didn't give up, however, and he slipped two fingers inside your clothes and began to pump your entrance slowly.

"Oh my god! Shanks!" You moaned in surprise

"That's my girl.." he purred

Your hips began to rock on their own, wanting more friction. You tried your best not to moan so as not to wake the others, but instead, you gasped, your mouth parting in a muffled moan. Your hands tangled in his hair as he returned to kissing your collarbones, also trying to smother his own pleasure in your skin. His fingers pumped faster as your hips moved back and forth as quickly as a wave, and your breathing became labored. You threw your head back against the door, your chest rising and falling. You were about to cum, you could feel it.

Shanks felt it too and instead of continuing to stimulate your insides, he stopped abruptly. You opened your eyes, annoyed and confused, and he laughed.

"What? Did you think I'd make it so easy for you? That would be boring"

"B-but..!"

He silenced you with a passionate kiss and let you slide your legs from his waist. His kisses also went down and found your chest. He removed a strap and you helped him get rid of the bustier. Shanks kissed the center of your bust making you shudder but he didn't stop there, he ran kisses down your body until he reached your stomach where with a single skillful hand he finished removing your skirt and thong. He kissed your mons pubis and your legs making you sigh with desire. The crouching captain looked up to contemplate you from below.

"You're perfect"

You weren't expecting such a loving and genuine compliment, which made you blush. He stood up and laid you down on the bed, took off his cape and got rid of his shirt. You looked at his toned chest and his marked abdomen, unable to resist, you ran your hands over his torso, wanting to pull him towards you, but he giggled, caressing your hand.

"Uh, uh. Not yet, angel"

You grumbled impatiently as he bent down and approached your crotch. You wanted to protest once more, but you didn't have time because the redhead began kissing your inner thighs fervently, as if you were his favorite food that he hadn't tasted in years. The warmth of his mouth, along with the passion with which he kissed you, made you wet again.

"Shanks, please.." you cried

"Okay, I'll reward you after all." smiled mischievously

Without wasting any time, he parted your folds and tasted your juices. The first touch of his hot tongue made you arch your back and moan his name. He seemed to be skilled at everything he did, not just with his hands. His tongue drew circles here and there and pushed against your clit. Remembering his words about his crew, you covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure.

Another thing Shanks loved was teasing you so he raised your legs so you could hook them on his shoulders and have more access to your wet center.

"Oh my god!!"

"Shh, this way you will alert others, dear" he teased, smiling

In response, you grabbed his hair and pulled lightly, drawing a pure, genuine moan from him. This way, you kept his head close to you, preventing him from moving away, and you could fuck his face. You concentrated on your own pleasure and Shanks's wonderful tongue while he hummed into your folds.

Again you felt that tingling in your lower belly that threatened to grow and boil over. You rocked your hips faster as he took you to the edge. Suddenly, a wave of pleasure washed over you, and you felt yourself cascading down. The captain's stubble was covered in your juices, but he didn't care; licking his lips, he climbed on top of you. You were still recovering from the stimulation when he came out with a question.

"Hey, are you alright there?"

You exhaled and caressed his face, trying to normalize your breathing. He lovingly kissed your palm and then looked at you with a smile that hid something else.

"So... would you like to continue or would you prefer to end here?"

This motherfucker. He managed to have you at his feet with his charm and loving smile. Oh, but he was the devil in disguise, and you loved it. Biting your lip, you decided to continue, but on one condition.

"Now I'm in charge"

You knelt on the bed and knocked him down, making him fall onto his back on the mattress. You helped him get rid of his pants and underwear. You didn't waste time with foreplay or kisses; you needed it now. He smiled at your desperation. However, the moment you saw his erect member, you decided to tease him a little. You straddled him but didn't go down completely, just letting the tip enter. You looked at him mischievously, and Shanks moaned, pouting.

"C'mon babe, don't do this"

"Oh I think you're the needy one now."

You stayed in that position for a few seconds until Shanks couldn't take it anymore and raised his pelvis making you enter him fully. You gasped in surprise while he looked at you smiling triumphantly.

"That's not fair!"

"All is fair in love"

Shanks began to move his pelvis up and down to make you follow the rhythm. You joined him by moving your hips in circles and back and forth while your breasts bounced on the spot. The symphony of moans was delicious; at this point, neither of you cared about waking them all up. Suddenly, Shanks's member hit your G-spot perfectly, drawing a stifled cry from you. Their hips seemed to be one, growing in motion. Without warning, they both came in unison, and you collapsed tiredly onto his chest.

The warm liquid continued to drip from your legs, but you didn't pay any attention to it; you just wanted to fall asleep on top of him. Shanks pulled you closer to him and stroked your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. He kissed the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings to you.

"You make me very happy, Y/n"

But you were too asleep to hear him. He looked at you and, smiling, closed his eyes as well, not worrying about having to explain to the crew the next morning why there was a woman sleeping next to him.

#shanks x reader #shanks one piece #red haired shanks #shanks op #shanks x female reader #shanks opla #Shanks one piece live action #female reader #one piece #opla #Smut #akagami no shanks #shanks x you #shanks x y/n

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badgerbl00d · 2 years ago

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first dates with the one piece boys

☆ characters: shanks, crocodile

☆ up next: taking an aphrodisiac w/ one piece boys ft. ace, kidd, and law

☆ summary: first dates with shanks and crocodile, crocodile is kind of as asshole but he's whipped so like it's cute..., suggestive content

☆ a/n: i'm back! i'll try to post something else this week but uni is kicking my ass :p requests are open!

☆ 18+, mdni

shanks:

“Ready, sweetheart?”

You blushed, nodding as you tried to ignore the cheers and whoops that erupted from the rest of the crew on board.

Shanks shot a look over his shoulder and you were rewarded with immediate silence.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and gently guided you alongside him onto the island.

“Use protection!” someone called out. Definitely Yasopp.

“Ignore ‘em,” Shanks said.

“So you don’t wanna use protection?”

Shanks shot you a look, surprised at your quip, “No! Yes! I mean- well, no… We don’t have to y’know- Whatever you want to do ....”

“Very smooth, Captain.”

He laughed, bringing you toward him, and placed a rough kiss on the top of your head.

“Ya make me nervous, what can I say?”

Your chest contracted at this confession. You felt an embarrassing amount of pride watching him rendered so uncharacteristically bashful from your words.

You slipped your hand into his, giving him a soft squeeze, “Just cause this is a date doesn’t mean anything changes between us.”

“Well, we might kiss. And according to you we might fu-”

“Shanks.”

He laughed, louder this time, “Sorry, sorry. I think you’ll like where I’m taking you.”

There was a cool breeze making its way over both of you, giving you temporary reprieve from the summertime warmth the city was buzzing with. Overgrown trees and flower bushes poured into the lamp-lit streets.

You talked with each other, never a dull moment between the two of you, as you walked toward wherever Shanks was planning on taking you.

By the time you stopped walking, you’d made it to a much more empty part of town.

Shanks pointed to a sign on the corner, ‘Happy Hour 8 p.m. - 10 p.m.’

“A bar,” you mused, playfully rolling your eyes at him, “How surprising.”

He smiled and tugged at the strap of your dress, “Tsk, tsk. So impatient.”

He led you into the dinghy building, the wooden door damaged from what you imagined was years of drunk patrons spilling their drinks over themselves and their surroundings. The inside was dusty and it looked as though no one had used it for years.

“Your usual, honey?” Shanks asked, approaching the bar.

“Please.”

He smiled at you, “Yes, captain.”

God, he was handsome.

You watched Shanks ordering your drinks from where you stood, looking at his face through the mirror behind the bartender. You pressed your thighs together as a familiar pulsing sensation began coursing through your lower half. You accepted long before this date that it was beyond your control- he was just so handsome. He ran a hand through his hair, winking at you in the mirror. You blew him a kiss and though you couldn’t be sure in the dim light a pale blush seemed to spread over his features.

“One martini please, with three olives. And a Gin and Glamour.”

You shot him a look, Gin? You?

“Follow me this way,” the bartender said.

A smirk settled onto your captain’s face and he beckoned you toward him.

The bartender opened a tall door that seemed to lead to darkness.

“Enjoy,” he said. Curiosity had completely taken over and you led the way through the dark hallway, the faint sound of a bass being plucked echoing through, until you reached the end which was covered with a thick velvet curtain.

You pushed through, Shanks’ hand once again finding itself on your back, though much lower this time.

Soft, warm light lit up the room. Your eyes immediately jumped to the jazz band in the center illuminated by a red light. “… and in July, a lemonade, to cool you…,” the singer was halfway through "I Wish You Love". There were booths stationed around, with dark mahogany tables and wine-red velvet couches. Several other couples were spread through the bar, the soft buzz of background conversation filling the room.

“Shanks,” you gasped.

“You didn’t really think I’d take you to a shitty bar for our first date did ‘ja?”

“I’m going to choose not to answer,” you smiled, taking his hand in yours. For a split second your attention was taken away from the room you were in and you could only focus on the feeling of your hand in his- his strength apparent even without him trying.

“Must suck having to be the guy up front, huh?”

You giggled and pulled him toward an empty booth with a good view of the band, “I’ll say. Though I would like that martini.”

“How ‘bout you go sit and I’ll grab it for you, sweetheart,” he said, gently patting your ass as you turned.

With your drinks in hand, Shanks sat next to you, pulling you in closer to him. “Looks like we’re the only new couple in here,” he whispered in your ear, gesturing over toward a couple in the middle of a heated makeout session. You smiled at him, your eyes glimmering with mischief, “Hm, wanna try blending in?”

Shanks smiled, catching on to your request. You sipped your martini and bit an olive off of the toothpick that rested in the glass.

“We’ve kissed before, y’know.”

“We have!? I think I’d remember if we had,” he returned.

“No, no, we did,” you said, and he gave you a look that begged you to elaborate, “It was a few months back- when we did that stupid drinking contest. We were both pretty drunk, but I’d drank a lot less than you. Anyways, um, everyone had gone to bed or, I dunno, gone to find something else to do and we were left alone on deck. Unsupervised.”

You wiggled your eyebrows at him earning a laugh.

“I don’t remember it well, but I remember we laughed after. A lot.”

Shanks was smiling, resting his head on his hand as he gazed up on you. You averted your gaze.

He moved quickly and by the time you realized what was happening you were already sinking into the kiss, bringing a hand up to grab the collar of his shirt, anything to stabilize yourself.

Your heart was crawling up your throat, Shanks’ eyes were closed tight and he was clearly trying to savor every moment of the indulgent feeling of your lips against his. It warmed your heart that a man so feared on the open sea was reduced to a gentle, eager mess the moment he kissed you.

You leaned further into him and his arms wrapped around your waist, his hands palming at your hips. His facial hair tickled and poked your face earning a head-spinning giggle from you. Shanks pulled away, his breaths short and

“I want to tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do that but apparently this isn’t my first time kissing you,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

The jazz band had started a new tune, longer notes and the steady strum of the bass playing a rendition of Waltz for Debby, further amplifying the intimacy between the two of you.

“Hopefully you remember this one,” you said smirking at him, “Or do you need a more memorable one?”

“Are you asking to kiss me again? Or do you just want confirmation that you’re a good kisser?”

“I am a good kisser. Better than you, anyway.”

“HA! You don’t even come close!”

“So arrogant, Captain. But I’d love to prove you wrong,” you took another sip of your drink.

Pinching his cheeks between your fingers you pulled him toward you, this time savoring how he tasted. The bitterness of the whiskey on his lips coated your mouth as you slipped your tongue past his. Shanks’ breathing deepened and his fingertips sunk further into your hips- you could feel where you’d find bruises tomorrow morning. You brought a hand up to softly hold his throat and he moaned-

Oh god, he moaned!

You pulled away pupils blown and lips puffy.

Shanks’ cheeks were deep red, a sight that had your ego swelling.

“You know,” he started, breathless, “I think you may be right.”

You smiled and finished the rest of your drink, “Need more evidence?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead, running a hand through your hair.

“As a matter of fact, Y/n, I do.”

It was late when you finally found your way back to the ship. Shanks’ face was covered in red blotches of your smeared lipstick and your lips were equally messy. Your dress strap was falling off of your shoulder and Shanks’ shirt was plenty unbuttoned.

“Well,” he said, placing a kiss on the back of your hand, “Now you get to choose.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“My bed or yours?”

You laughed and wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him down for another kiss.

“Yours.”

(whipped!)Crocodile:

“You owe me money, Croc.”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

He reached for your hand, which you let him take.

He pressed his lips to it and started to trail kisses up your arm until you stopped him by pushing him off you and taking a seat on his lap.

“If I go to dinner with you will you give me my money?”

“You’ll get it either way, sweetheart. A job well done is a job well done. I just want to take you out.”

Liar, you thought.

But still, you took a second to think about it, letting him wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder, kissing your collarbone.

You were intoxicating to him, completely overwhelming all of his senses. He knew how unprofessional it was to involve himself with the assassins for hire he dealt with but this was now his eighth time working with you and though you always did a fantastic and clean job, the quality of your work wasn’t really the reason he was hiring you anymore.

“Where would you take me?”

“Desert Point. Or anywhere you wanted, really. I’ll cook for you if you’d like.”

You shifted in his lap, letting your thighs straddle his hips, and looked up at him.

He pulled out a cigar from his breast-pocket, which you quickly snatched from his hand, “I hate the smell.”

He put a hand up in surrender and placed the cigar back in his pocket.

Your eyes were focused on him, looking at his lips and trailing a finger up his neck. Your lips pouted as you considered his offer and the smell of your perfume filling every nook and cranny of his office and still, it wasn’t enough for him. He wanted all of you.

The two of you had, of course, had a handsy encounter or two and you were more than familiar with how he tasted after a long night of office work and whiskey. But, greedy and selfish as ever, the warlord wanted more. He wanted you. In the mornings in his bed, and at night by his side.

“Alright. You can cook for me, I suppose.”

He smiled, not even trying to fight the rare display of happiness.

“Any requests?”

You got up from his lap, batting away his hands which tried to grab you and hold you.

“Don’t burn anything. I’ll bring a bottle of that whiskey you like,” you said heading open the door to his office, “Tomorrow night at 7.”

Crocodile leaned back in his chair, savoring the lingering smell of you that had been making it difficult to concentrate for the past week, and waited until the click on your heels was far enough away to call Miss All Sunday and ask that she, “Please cancel all my appointments tomorrow.”

You knew Crocodile’s apartment well, having paid a few unknown visits and a few known ones. The last time you visited was after Crocodile had begged you to stop by for a glass of wine. You ended up drinking closer to five and neither of you could remember anything the morning after. You did, however, take note of the safe in his office where, if Baroque Works intel was anything to go off of, he kept the cash he used to pay black market hires such as yourself. Tonight would be a perfect opportunity to get your money, which you suspected he had no real intention of giving you.

Dinner had gone well and you found yourself in his office, lounging on his couch.

A jazz record played softly in the background and you’d both taken off a few layers of clothing. The only lighting was provided by a few candles he’d lit and you sat facing each other, each several glasses of wine in.

“Stay here for a while,” he said, softly rubbing up and down your leg which you had draped over his lap, “With me.”

“I have work, Croc.”

“I’ll hire you, full-time.”

“No offense to your…. staff, but their work is a bit beneath me.” He laughed, “Then I’ll fund your stay here. You won’t pay for anything.”

This interested you. Staying a week in the nicest apartment on the continent with Crocodile wasn’t such a terrible deal. You swished your wine around in your cup.

“Will you cook?”

“For you? Of course.”

You stared at him and pretended to pass the thought over as he kissed your neck and palmed at your ass.

“Give me a chance to convince you to stay.”

“How do you plan on doing that?”

A smirk settled on his face and he pulled you in for a kiss.

You indulged him and deepened the kiss, letting your tongue slip past his lips.

You giggled and sunk into his hold on you, his big hands holding you steady.

“I’ll stay, I’ll stay,” you buried your face into his chest, trying to fight the warmth in your cheeks.

The warlord squeezed you even tighter, earning a bout of laughter from you that placed a smile on his face.

“This is bad for your image you know. You’re getting soft,” you mused, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“I promise you I am anything but soft right now.”

“Ha. Ha.”

He wrapped a hand up into your hair, gently pulling back at the base of your neck so he had full access to your neck, and sunk his teeth in biting gently so as not to draw blood but not gently enough to avoid leaving a mark.

Your back arched into him and you mewled at the feeling, your nails digging into his shoulder.

He brought your head back up and kissed you.

You brought your hands up to his collar and began undoing his tie, leaving it hanging on his shoulders.

Slowly and without interrupting the kiss, you began undoing the buttons on his shirt. Crocodile leaned back into the couch to make your job easier and began undoing his belt, which you took from him.

Crocodile went to bring his hands back up to your neck but- they didn’t move.

He looked down and his belt was fastened around his wrists. He tried to tear it but you’d done a damn good job and he was rendered rather helpless.

You got up and, after placing a soft kiss on his forehead, made your way to the safe behind the painting on the wall.

“You said you’d stay!”

Not that it was much of a problem for him but Crocodile preferred when things went over smoothly.

“Did I? Hmmm,” you said, ear to the safe as you turned the dial listening for the telltale click that let you know you unlocked it, “I lied.”

Click!

“And if I make you stay? This makeshift restraint isn’t sea prism stone.”

You laughed and turned to look at him.

“Go ahead.”

He scoffed. You both knew well you were the last person on earth he’d ever harm.

“I’m gonna take my money and then some as a tip, alright? I will miss you though,” you said, making sure his arms were still tied in his lap.

He couldn’t help but smile as you turned back around to the very empty safe.

Your stomach dropped.

“Where is the money-”

“Like I’d keep it here, sweetheart. Especially not with you coming over.”

“You’re a thief. And a dirty one at that.”

“I’d take more offense if it wasn’t coming from you.”

You huffed and turned to his desk where you were quickly opening and closing drawers looking for where he’d moved the money.

“Come and finish your wine, Y/n.”

“It isn’t here, is it? You’re a liar and a thief,”

He stayed silent and gestured toward your spot on the couch, a satisfied smirk settled on his infuriatingly handsome face.

“Crocodile…” you warned, “I think you know better than to not pay me.”

He smiled, as though daring you to continue. Or what? the expression on his face begged.

“Stay the week with me,” he said as you approached, “Please.”

You took your seat next to him and looking down at his hands noted the very significant absence of a belt tied around them. Your heartbeat picked up as he used a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re good, sweetness, but I’m better.”

You sighed and let him kiss you, reluctantly leaning into his touch.

“You’ll stay the week.”

You nodded and were upset at yourself for feeling excited at the thought. You felt like a schoolgirl holding her crush’s hand.

“Shall we go to bed then?”

He smiled and picked you up princess-style, one arm around your waist and one under your knees.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed a kiss on his cheek, “If you keep this game going you’ll end up having to marry me, you know.”

He smiled, his most sincere smile of the night.

“Ah, wouldn’t that be terrible?”

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