#drabble op

[riza-jes]

Isekai Ace or System to save yourself for the son of the Pirate King // The rebirth into an unremarkable Pirate King's son.

And…I rll gonna write my greatest idea of issekai Ace.

Just don’t know when i do it properly, but the work in progress, so maybe soon. I’ve already written some scenes and his past.

Ace is the one of many modern guy, who keep trying to do his job, safe money and has a plan to move near ocean. But now, he’s lonely barista who makes different kind of coffee with closed eyes and has friends only among stray cats.

Also, he has one specific guilty pleasure that Ace could afford almost freely — reading manga shōnen manga “Koby the Honest Hero”, where the story told of Koby and his way to become hero who could protect defenseless and weak, but the most favorite character in Ace’s opinion was the antagonist who yet hasn’t shown properly and always hidden in the shadows, the Strawhat guy who also is antagonist and someone Kobi meet in the beginning and help him to escape from Alvida.

( he didn’t know that’s was Luffy not at all)

But once after coming from work with bunch of cats feed Ace was stabbed and robbed after what he… died.

alone and white last thoughts that he won't feed the cats again.

But suddenly he opens his eyes as a newborn in Rouge's arms.

And so the story begins.

It’s a bit complicated,but the main point is partly the Ace we knew (canon One Piece) IS Ace who issekaied.

Also there is the important fact: in this “canon” of manga “Koby the hero” only once was mentioned Gol D Ace.

He is mentioned once as the executed son of the Pirate King.

Not his deeds, not his even name(the one was mentioned in private talk between Gary and Koby), just a title that's been with him since birth.

Just a line that this world will eventually erase very soon whiteout any shadows and grieve.

( similar with modern Ace’s situation, sometimes he think if he ever even buried properly? Does even somebody feel sadness of his lose? He doesn’t wanna be left alone, don’t wanna die without no one to care. Without no one who could read his panegyric and bury him as Ace not as someone nameless.)

He lives his life not fully convinced in what exactly world he reborn and who he is exactly until his fifth birthday.

So he decided to live his life, just trying to find the way for not be erased and leave something…

Well…speak of others: The Luffy in this story so as Sabo is became more CanonOP due to IssekaiAce.

Ace who just wanna have women close to him and has no interest in interfere in plot, so he trying his best(it isn’t his fault he found out his gramps/oh seas he has grandpa!/ is the same Garp as Koby’s teacher). He’s just don’t know that his Happy Babybrother Luffy is that terrifying antagonist in manga he read. And Sabo is that infamous Flame of revolution who crashes skulls and the second the most wanted person from marines. So…Ace decided even he couldn’t change his fate he still could have his family and people he cares and who cares about him. Ace thinks he hang out with unimportant for plot characters what didn’t ruin everything.

He didn’t know that his brothers loves him more than he could imagine ( Ace didn’t dare to think in that way, not when in the first time he feel such a great happiness)

He have no idea that the dark past of loneliness and exclusion for Luffy and Sabo's long caged, psychologically abusive situation is shattered by Ace's simple decision to accept those weirdos.

So smith like that

In this world many of people who’s lives crossed with Ace’s have strange feeling of “this shouldn’t go like this”, or understanding that their life’s change extremely for good thanks to Ace(for example Sabo and Luffy their darkest part will be calmed by Ace’s pure affections and love)

[dealervel]

ARE YOU SCARED OF DIFFERENT SCENARIOS

yall loved “ i am going to fuck him ! ” so im back with another one ! ( NSFW MDNI ) DONT OPEN THE LINKS AROUND PEOPLE PLEASE ! enjoy !

LOUD BRAT ?!

he’s a man who lives for attention when y’all are out in public people recognize him, at the mall ? getting recognized, just walking with you ? he gets recognized . so he damn there a celebrity and man does he love it ! he loves it so much he starts questioning why you don’t act the same way his ‘ fans ’ do. “ you don’t worship me like they do ! ” he whines on his knees as he lays his head on your lap, “i do baby - ” , “ no you don’t ! mmm you dont love me ” he cut you off lifting up his head to look at you “ you don’t worship me like they do ! you don’t even show me attention anymore ! all you do is call me a brat and crybaby ! ” you sigh rubbing your temple in annoyance while trying to explain why you don’t but he never listens. “ you know what … since i don’t worship you and I don't love you the way they do how about you go ask one of your worshippers to help you when you need it ” … later that night you were out at work as you phone buzzed . it was from your boyfriend he sent you a video ... he first sent you a video of him roughly rubbing himself with his pillow. “ b-baby im soorrry .. ” the following video was him fucking fleshlight crying your name. “ i’m sorry im sorry im sorry p-please fo-forgive me ” so pitiful but so cute but he wasn’t done. three minutes after the first two he sent another in this he has on a ball gag and a vibrator pressed against his cock. no words just tears and muffled begging with the message saying ‘ pleease cume home soonn im sorrty😢 ’. “ he cant even type .. how ridiculous... ” AUDIO ! VISUALS !

CHEATER / FRIENDLY TASTE ?!

you drunkenly came onto him without a second thought " you know your boyfriend's here we cant - " he was cut off by your finger on his lip " mmm I doon't careee … " he looked shocked while started kissing and biting on his neck “ c’mmon please ! he’ll neverr know ” those words are what did it . the two of you were undressed with sweat glistening on both of your bodies “ shh we don’t want to your boyfriend to hear us right ? ” it’s started with his fingers on your clit to his fingers deep into your pussy — “ stay with me dear ” the faster his fingers fucked in and out of your cunt, the harder it was to keep your eyes open. “ t’much — noo more p-please ” you placed your hand on his feeling the fast pace. his voice moved through your ear like music “ move your fuckin hand ” your hand was snatched away as you had an overwhelming sense come over . “i w-wanna cum please ” he chuckled “ go on make a mess ” AUDIO ONE , TWO ! VISUALS !

2 MANY ATTACHMENTS ?!

if you had to describe him in one word it would be ‘ WHORE ’ whenever he had time he would take nude pictures or videos and send them to you . did you ask for them ? no , does he care ? boo no he doesn’t . So he sends you two to four attachments every other week and they are never the same . one day he’s whining for you “ please baby im a good boy ! i promise i’ve been such a good boy for youu ” and the next he’s degrading you “ how’s my dumb puppy ? are you missing me ? are you missing the way i fuck you stupid ? i bet you wish i was there touching you — you dumb slut ” . remember how i said the attachments are never the same there are times when he'll send old videos of him fucking the life out of your body — your arms tied up with you legs spread apart as he fucks you with vibrator and other toys. there are also videos of him doing requests you’ve asked him and he would never tell you no. “ im surprised you don’t have a pornhub account ” you cracked the joke “ actually, i do … ” .

AUDIO ! VISUALS ONE, TWO, THREE !

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Simon Riley x Reader

Title: One or two?

Synopsis: Simon wants to know how many kids you want.

Warnings: yes... This is pregnancy themed. Again. I love pregnancy fics.

AN: I think... I think I have baby fever. Also happy 1000 notes!!! :) <3333

Maybe it's how soft and supple your skin is, maybe it's that smooth voice you mumble to him at night, or maybe it's how you wear nice fabrics, the kind that brush against his skin and he can feel his muscles relax--but Simon is hooked on you.

It all started when you saw him at a coffee shop and his jaw practically dropped at how soft you seemed. You were so polite, spoke so quiet to the barista, that he had to make sure he got your number!

So when Simon saw a man that clearly didn't deserve you hitting on you after you politely declined him, of course he came up, hot black coffee in hand, and asked if there was a problem.

And when you first fell asleep beside him? He laid his head on your chest like a small child and just closed his eyes and he felt so... Held in that moment, even though your arms weren't around him that the next day when he drove you back to your place he stopped by the jeweller and got you a perfect ring.

Now you're on the couch, feet propped up, pretty little rock on your finger and he's laying on your lap, head beside your tummy, kneading at your thigh when he finally speaks.

"'Ow many kids?" Simon asks in his gruff voice, "One or two?"

You pause, looking down with a cocked eyebrow. Your hand reaches to start running through Simon's hair and he groans, relaxing entirely, "What do you mean, Si?" You ask in the soft voice that makes his knees buckle.

Simon picks his head up to look at you, "One or two kids?" He repeats, "'Ow many do ya want? 'Onestly, if it's more than two, we'll need a bigger 'ome."

Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush, and it makes Simon grin that devilish grin. He kisses your stomach, then your thighs. You let out that cute little giggle, your thighs squishing together because it tickles.

"C'mon, dovie. Ya gonna be my missus. Ya gotta know how many kids ya want," Simon says, rubbing up and down your thigh. He starts to get up, pulling you close, curled up beside him.

You breathe out a giggle, nestling up to Simon's side, "'M not sure.. maybe two?" You offer up, before Simon throws you down onto the couch playfully and gets on top of you.

He starts to plant kisses all up your stomach, then skipping your chest to kiss up your collarbone and shoulders. He kisses up your neck to your jaw, and you're giggling the entire time, squirming.

Then, he props himself up overtop of you to look into your eyes, "One or two?" He asks again, and all you do is giggle.

[orangeflowerr]

zoro with a clingy s/o? almost like luffy that just likes to hang on him or be on him at all times

| SPACE : THE SPACE BETWEEN YOU AND ME

Zoro was not a man who enjoyed the affection of others but ever since you came along his tolerance only slightly increased. there wasn’t a moment in the day when you weren’t clinging onto some part of him. whether that be an intertwined pinky or hanging from his muscular arms.

As the Going Merry sailed the waters of the east blue, Zoro was lazing around at the bottom of the masts. arms resting on the nape of his neck, you were nestled beside him, one arm tracing shapes on his clothen chest and the other wrapped around his bicep.the green haired man huffed in feigned annoyance as you cling to him. although his body language said otherwise as his eyes closed at the sensation. he actually enjoyed the clinginess you displayed, missing it when you let go for just a second. he believed a level of stoicism should be maintained so as not to show how vulnerable he really could be. the only person who he entrusted with that side of himself was you, it was shown on rare occasions and today was one of those.

“I’ve gotta get up now.”

Zoro said as he tried to get up, your arm was entangling around him, entrapping him to the floor, so he couldn’t so much as sit up.

“Five more minutes.”

“No.”

He made another attempt albeit it was weak. he had no intention of getting up just yet, he just wanted to see you look at him with those pleading eyes.

“Please!”

you begged, looking at him with those eyes knowing he’d give in. your plan had worked or so you thought as he’d given up the fight ages ago.

“Fine, but no more than five minutes.”

wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer so you were practically on top of him. it was safe to say you both stayed like that a lot longer than five minutes.

[chibinasuu]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji (separately) X Reader, and it's of them already in a relationship, and kind of based on the trend on TikTok, Reader calls them "Buddy" to see their reaction?

hi!! sorry this took so long, i just returned from a trip and didn’t have much time to write at all last week. thanks for the request, this was so fun to write! this was my first time writing short drabbles like this, but i hope i captured the boys’ reactions well :)

“Buddy”

Pairings: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji x Reader (separate)  Tags: sfw, fluff, established relationship, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Sanji

The lid to the peanut butter jar was exceptionally tight that morning. 

You glanced at Sanji, who was trying and failing to prevent his lips from turning up into a mischievous smirk. You rolled your eyes as a small huff escaped your mouth.

Did he seriously think you wouldn’t catch on to his little schemes? You had long been aware that he’d sometimes purposefully tighten the lids to all of the jars in the kitchen just so you would ask him for help. 

After struggling for a good few seconds, you finally relented and passed the jar to him, “Open this for me, please?”

Sanji beamed at you, “Why, of course, dearest! With pleasure.” 

He popped the lid open with ease and handed the jar back to you.

You took it gratefully but couldn’t resist the temptation of getting back at him in some way. So, as you walked away, you patted his shoulder and said lightly, “Thanks, buddy!”

You instantly regretted it when you saw Sanji’s crestfallen expression, “...Buddy?”

He looked like he was close to tears as he searched your face, “A-are you mad at me? Is this about the jars? I promise I won't do it aga–” 

His small voice broke you and you immediately rushed back to him, “Oh sweetheart, no, I’m just joking!” 

You planted a kiss on his cheek, “I’m sorry, honey.” You moved your lips to his other cheek, “Baby.” To his forehead, “Darling.”

He let out a relieved sigh at the return of your usual repertoire of nicknames, before squishing your cheeks in between his hands, “Don’t ever call me buddy again. Please.” 

You chuckled, “Yes, my love.” 

He nodded, satisfied at your answer, before leaning in and melding his lips to yours in the sweetest kiss.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Zoro

“Hey, can you pass me the towel?” 

You were sitting on the bench of the crow’s nest, quietly reading your book as Zoro spent hours after hours working out. This was the first instance that he had spoken to you in all that time, which was no surprise, really. You knew that he took his workout very seriously.

But, you couldn’t deny that it still annoyed you to no end that he had not glanced even once in your direction this whole time, despite this being one of the rare moments that the two of you could spend alone onboard this rowdy ship. 

“Sure.” You reached for the towel beside you and tossed it in his direction, “Here you go, buddy!”

“Thank–” Zoro started to reply before he registered your words. He looked at you, his face contorted in what you could only describe as disgust, “Ha?!”

You smirked at how readily he took your bait, watching him closely as he wiped off his sweat and stalked toward you. He placed his hands on the bench on either side of you, caging you in as he bent forward to bring his face close to yours, “What did you just call me?”

“What, you don't like my new nickname for you, buddy?” You taunted, fully realizing that this would piss him off even further.

“Oh, am I your buddy, now?” He pressed his body even closer to yours, an intense look in his eyes as he said, “Well, would a buddy do this, then?” 

Your heart danced in victory when his lips finally captured yours in a hungry kiss, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down onto the bench.

Maybe you should rile him up more often.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Luffy

Luffy was sitting at his usual spot at the figurehead when you approached him. 

The conversation you had with Nami earlier still plagued your mind. She had told you that men hated to be called “buddy” by their significant other, but you were pretty sure that Luffy wouldn’t mind at all. He had liked all of the nicknames you gave him so far, no matter how ridiculous they were. She laughed and disagreed, telling you that Luffy was a man after all, and there was no way he would not be affected in some way. 

So, that’s how you ended up climbing the stairs to the figurehead, on your way to test Nami’s theory. 

“Hey, buddy!” You called out to Luffy.

His head tilted in confusion as he turned to face you, before replying uncertainly, “Hey to you too… buddy.”

Well, how the table had turned. You didn’t expect him to call you "buddy” back. And you didn’t like it. At all. 

“Ugh.” You groaned as you sat down beside him, “Forget that. Please don’t call me buddy.” 

He pouted, “Hey, you said it first!” 

You chuckled and caressed his cheek, your thumb lightly grazing over his scar, “My bad, turned out I don’t like it when you called me that.” 

“Well, I don’t like it either.” He shrugged as he admitted, “It made me feel like I was just your friend. And I’m not… right?” 

So Nami was right. It did affect him.

“You’re right, I’m sorry." You smiled, somehow filled with a strange satisfaction, as you pulled him in for a quick kiss, "You're definitely more than just my buddy, Lu.”

You kept his face close to yours as you said, “I promise I won’t call you buddy ever again if you promise not to call me buddy too.”

Luffy laughed before closing the gap between you again, “Deal!”

↳ masterlist

[chrollohearttags]

nobody knows • portgas d. ace

another drabble for sneaky link/ex boyfriend ace bc I have one functioning brain cell and all of it is focused on him atm teehee 🤭

wc: 1.8K

more infidelity (y’all both still AIN’T SHIT 😭 reader got that dog in her I’m sorry), straight porn, modern au, black fem reader, phone sex/sexting, squirting, oral sex, calls reader bitch, a eating + anal, recording, backshots, rough sex, heavy breeding, idk what else will come out

he’s so ooc in this and I don’t give a fuck (I’m ovulating and stressed w life + therapy is too expensive)

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

nobody knows why you and ex-boyfriend!ace broke up in the first place. Honestly, it seemed like such a waste…three long years down the drain with nothing to show for it but the two of you left in shambles. Friends and family consoling you both as you learned to navigate life without one another. (Y/N), moving on fairly quickly with the son of one of your dad’s friends..a byproduct of military nepotism and the very antithesis to what Ace was. A stiff working a cushy desk job and reaping the benefits..pushing papers and always playing it safe. He was very kind, sweet and damn near ideal in every sense of the word. Not too much of a drinker, a partygoer or anything of the sort but he always took you on dates. All of your girlfriends liked him well enough, thinking that he more matched your speed than the thrill seeking, goofy, chaotic daredevil that was ex-boyfriend!ace. Who rode motorcycles and climbed mountains in his spare time, when he wasn’t holding life by the tips of his fingers as an EMT. Covered in tattoos, he looked like such a quintessential, stereotypical ‘bad boy’… “God, (y/n). I don’t know what you ever saw in that guy. He’s a loser, through and through.”

However, what nobody knows..is that you never truly left him alone! He was your ideal match and you couldn’t shake it. You could actually laugh, joke and make mistakes with him. There was no need for faux perfection and lies. You saw each other for who you really were.

Nobody knows that while you’re at work, he’s constantly sending you filthy messages to get you aroused and worked up. Making you chew your lip and the tip of your pen as you twirl in your chair..reading how he’s going to make sure you feel it in your stomach the next time you two link. Nobody knows he shamelessly sends you nut videos, uttering your name with the sexiest moans. Nobody knows that when you tell your assistant that the hour where you refuse any meetings is designated for you to choke on ex-boyfriend!ace’s cock in your cute little business attire..loving the way those glasses hang off the tip of your nose as he pushes your forehead to his pelvis.

“Goddamn, babe..I knew I couldn’t quit you..you’re eating my dick up so good.”

“It’d taste even better if you let me come on it first.”

loving that you were willing to abandon all of your morals for him so easily. Nobody knows about the second phone you keep stashed away in your glovebox just to call him late at night when your new man is sleeping or working overnight and you want some company..

“Can you please come over? I miss you..he won’t be back tonight. I promise.”

“Of course, baby. Anything for you..I’ll always come running when you tell me.”

or in need of a good orgasm because that dummy couldn’t give you one if you handed him a roadmap to the clit! With ex-boyfriend!ace on the other line talking you through it with that deep voice and lewd commands.

“Oh my gosh, pretty girl. Did you call me just so you could touch yourself to the sound of my voice? You’re so cute..” making you FaceTime him because he wants to see the mess he helped create.

nobody knows that whilst you're out at dinner with your new man, alongside loved ones as he boasts about how he knows you’re the one and how you guys make such a lovely couple, (y/n) is daydreaming about ex-boyfriend!ace riding you on the back of his Suzuki through the city, knowing the rush gets you turned on. That rather than dealing with an insecure little boy who felt intimidated by your looks and success, ex-boyfriend!ace would go drinking and partying with you, loving when you showed off your body because he wasn't worried about another man taking what was his. Nobody knows that you have a small tattoo of ex-boyfriend!ace’s name right above your private area. Hell, it's not as if your new man touched you enough to notice and when he did, the lights remained off.

When your girlfriends are divulging the dirt about their relationships and how envious they are of you. Claiming that you hit the jackpot with such a structured, well mannered guy who works a high paying job and always comes home to you. But what nobody knows…is that he could never replace the man you truly love. So much so, when you kiss him on the cheek that Friday evening before heading to the ‘airport’ for another business trip..you’re secretly meeting ex-boyfriend!ace in the top floor suite at a luxury hotel hours away from home where you two go every month to fuck each other's brains out for three days straight. Akin to addicts who can’t be satisfied, you rabidly devour one another until your bodies quit.

“I’ve waited all week for this…I’m so not sorry for how I’m about to fuck you.” ”I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, shoving his tongue into your mouth as he corners you against a wall. Nobody knows that ex!boyfriend!ace has you face down on a mattress with your ass up in the air as his tongue explores both of your entrances. Practically seating you on his face to suction around that clit, flicking his tongue in and out of your tight cunt before prodding your asshole, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva on each of them. Because you wore that adorable little heart shaped plug to help prep you for the weekend.

“You taste so fucking good…especially when I know you’ll let me have it anytime I want.”

nobody knows that you’re somewhere gripping the sheets for dear life as ex-boyfriend!ace delivers the most insane backshots you’ve ever felt. Those perfectly round, thick cheeks ricocheting off of his lower half..the contrast in your skin and that pearlescent scream surrounding his shaft making the sight even better…ripping orgasms from your body with no shame because he deserves it. After all, you belong to him.

“That’s right..come on this dick, bitch. Give me what I want..” he still loves and respects you all the same. But ace knows you prefer rough, degrading sex far more than the mundane and vanilla. Especially when it was in short supply with your current situation. Even going as far as to place a foot on your head, tugging your arms behind your back so that he can really bury his cock inside of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee, just like that, daddy. ‘S so good!”

“You love when I dig you out like this, treating you like a little slut..’swear this pussy’s going to get me in some serious trouble one day. But I don’t care, I love you.”

rambling on as he feels you twitching around him for the third time, leaving splatters of warm juices each time; squirting immensely from the constant stimulation to your spot.

“Damn, you’re coming so hard, pretty girl. Is he not fucking you right?” Laughing before he could even get the very rhetorical question from his mouth. Leaning down to place a trail of pecks and licks on your spine to console you before placing you into a prone position. ”Of course not..nobody knows this body better than me. Isn’t that right, gorgeous?” All but confirmed by the way you’re tightening around him..he can’t help but to grip your throat and steal sloppy kisses from you whilst he drills you into the mattress. “Nooo, babyyy. You’re the only one who can fuck me this good..oh my Goddd—“ placing his camera in your face so that he could have it for safekeeping..(and in case he gets wind of your man running his mouth about him again!) Making you call his name and scream it to the heavens. “Aceeee, fuck meeee..”

Nobody knows that you’ve been fucking for damn near an hour while your phone buzzes with missed calls and texts from your boyfriend and whatever little girl he’s deciding to entertain for the moment. As heinous as it was, you were just filling the void and you’d always find your way back to each other. Perhaps it was the thrill of sneaking around that kept this charade going. Either way, you weren’t giving each other for a long time and it’s so obvious why..no one else will do the freaky shit that you both crave so much.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re letting me fuck your ass again..feels amazing.” glaring up at him with the most adoring gaze in your eyes and smile on your face as you proudly hold a vibrator to your clit..allowing him to stretch that opposite opening. Practically coming on spot when you began to show your gratitude for this pleasure…

“Thank you, daddy..using all my holes like this. I love it so much.” That much apparent by the tears pouring down your face alongside that toothy grin. Only he could give it to you so good, you begin to cry!

“Oh shit..of course, gorgeous girl. I’d do anything for you..anything to see my baby smile.” Including pinning you down by your throat and letting trails of saliva drip into your mouth. Even feeding you a couple slaps when you all but pleaded with him to treat you like an object.

nobody knows that on the sparse occasions when you have sex with your current man, he’s forced to wear a condom because you’ve discussed several times that you don’t want children and you’re not taking any risks. But ex-boyfriend!ace gets the privilege of feeling that hard cock sliding in and out of you raw..and to breed you as many times as he can muster! Letting load after load spill into your aching womb. Filling every hole with that dripping seed.

“You look so pretty stuffed with my cum, sweetheart. Just how I like it.”

nobody knows why you left ex-boyfriend!ace in the first place but you knew why you’d always come running back!

@violetxxvenom @shamelesshoefairy @lwop-kpop

[fmlopla]

Perona is jealous of Zoro for having a last name, complains about it for a year before Zoro is like “just take mine and stfu” typical brother response. And it’s not until after egghead that Perona gets an updated wanted poster: Roronoa Perona.

This of course leads to Nami and Usopp teasing Zoro about getting married, and Luffy demanding a wedding feast to celebrate.

It’s not until after the party where Robin eventually speaks up and says “I didn’t know you swung that way, swordsman.” And Zoro responds with a gruff, “I don’t” and an eye roll. And Sanji basically swallows his cigarette that he was smoking nearby.

And eventually Zoro sees Sanji’s reaction to his vinsmoke name on his wanted poster… and he says “you should just take mine.”

“Oh like Perona? You wanna be my brother, moss? Well I already have a brother with green hair…”

And, interrupting, Zoro is finally annoyed enough to roughly kiss the cook; they’d been dancing around each other since Wano. He says “No. Not like that.”

“Like we’re married?”

“Like we’re equals.”

“Roronoa Sanji… I could get use to that…”

[nene-yasfics]

there's a glint in sanji's eyes as he watches you and your daughter snuggle.

mimi is tiny but chubby, all soft skin and rosy cheeks, old enough to babble but still too small to actually talk. when you found out you were pregnant, sanji had been elated but scared — life as a pirate isn't exactly made for a pregnant woman, let alone for an infant. still, he was happy and was ready to leave it all behind if it meant continuing to live a life by your side with your newfound companion.

but after a quick talk with the other strawhats, he was relieved to understand that the others had no intention of making either of you leave. everyone offered their support and promise to help where they could, whether it be during an attack or a particularly rough night of crying.

it made sanji's heart swell — the way everyone adapted so quickly to her. before anyone realized, battles became more and more scarce, attacks weren't as reckless as they used to be and the small girl's laugh had become something each one of them would go to the ends of the earth for.

and looking at you now — laughing with robin about something, with mimi's cheek pressed on your chest as she observes luffy while he makes face at her, the sun painting your skin orange — he thinks that he wouldn't change it at all, not even one bit.

you notice his staring, raising an eyebrow at him. "is there something on my face?"

he laughs, shaking his head. he cuts a piece of strawberry from the basket at the centre of the table — a miracle that luffy hasn't already reduced it to smithens, really — and offers it to mimi, whose eyes light up and mouth opens, slightly raising her head, to not-so-gracefully accept the food he's handing her.

she chomps down on the strawberry as well as on his fingers, wrapping her small hand around them to keep him in place as she continues munching. she could be doing anything — even eating his fingers away — and sanji would still adore her in any way possible.

soon enough, her little eyes start to droop. "tired, baby?" you ask her, pressing your lips on the top of her head. she nods a bit, her gnawing at sanji's fingers eventually stopping, leaving them covered in spit.

your boyfriend rises from his seat, taking her in his arms. "I'll take her to bed," he mumbles, earning a soft smile from you. "thank you, sanji." he moves to press a kiss on your cheek, "you deserve a break. chat with the others, eat what you couldn't while holding her– I know she gave you a hard time while I was cooking."

"always so attentive," you muse, the laughter of your comrades as they enjoy themselves almost a mere background sound. "but, well, she has taken her clinginess to me from you, babe. not that I am complaining, but she looks so much like you under certain lights."

sanji can’t exactly deny it; his little girl does look like she’s his clone, and even acts as one as soon as she enters the kitchen. my little food critic, he calls her when she stomps — more like crawls, because she has yet to learn how to properly walk — her way in like she owns the place, babbling nonsense that can translate into make me food, slave.

sanji brushes a curl out of her face and holds her tighter, moving down to the living quarters and into your shared room. mimi has her own cot in there, even if franky is working on making her her own little room, and sanji carefully lays her down, smiling at the sight of his daughter curling up in her blanket as soon as he tucks her in. “sleep well, my darling,” he coos, pressing a kiss atop her head.

he gets back up on deck, finally letting himself take out his cigarette pack from his pocket, the lighter with it. you were particularly adamant on not letting your daughter see him smoke, both so that she never gets the idea to imitate her dad and she doesn't have to be around the smoke, so his smoking time has lowered significantly and is now reduced to the small hours without her that he gets.

he takes back the seat next to yours, appreciating the way you're trying some of the things that luffy's rampage had left, quietly listening to robin and nami chatter. "she went down okay?" you softly ask him, barely a whisper, as he lights the cigarette between his lips.

he nods, smiling, puffing out a breath of smoke. "has she ever given me too much trouble?"

you laugh. even if she did, it'd never be too much for him. "no," you hum, resting your head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around you. "she never has." 

[chooppi]

”can i color your tattoos?”

ace looks at you with a raised brow as the two of you are sitting on the couch, watching something on youtube while trying not to freeze to death in this cold temperature.

he puts the phone away to the side and looks at you, a smile slowly starting to grow at the corners of his lips before he tangles his fingers in your hair, brushing it out gently. “sure, but why?” he asks before you get up to search for the multiple colored pencils you own.

“because it would look cute, and i like your tattoos,” you admit before coming back to him, putting the pencils down on the table close to the couch. “promise you won’t wash it off immediatly?”

you’re looking at him with a small pout on your lips, fully aware of the effect it has on him, how could he ever say no. “i promise not to wash it off immediatly,” he places a kiss to your cheek before you’re taking his arm in one hand, a colored pencil in the other.

at the sight of the pink color, he shakes his head but lets you do whatever you want. you’re taking you’re time filling the different letters on his arm with color, drawing some hearts around it as well. “sucks that my back tattoo already has color,” he mumbles jokingly as you’re focused on his arm.

“yeah, you’ll have to get more tattoos,” you smile softly while finishing coloring the few tattoos he has on his left arm. “what do you think?”

he looks down slightly towards his tattoos and the way you��ve covered them in pink. “very pretty, baby. i’ll make sure to protect it from water for as long as i can.”

[vyainide]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤcoax me out, my loveㅤㅤ＼ㅤcomforting op menㅤㅤ𖥟

ワンピース၇⃪⃖ꪆ୧ㅤluffy, zoro & lawㅤ 𓊉 ㅤ~𝟣.𝟤𝗄—𝟣.𝟦𝗄𝗐𝖼ㅤ───gn! reader, canon compliant, angst/comfort, character study, can be romantic or platonic, marineford spoilers (luffy, zoro), thriller bark spoilers (zoro), dressrosa spoilers (law)᭮ ━─⠀ ❤︎ ㅤ2025©vyainide ㅤㅤ︶ིྀᩧㅤ1864lib

vyon's mouthpiece. sanji is not here because i haven't seen his backstory yet, i could write it bc it's impossible to avoid op spoilers for any arc and i essentially know the backbone of his lore, but i'm afraid i wouldn't do it enough justice so i'm just gonna not

sometimes, he gets distant— it's not then that you need to worry about luffy. you know to give him more credit now since you've become something to him; it's the times that he brands himself into you— stubborn and tense, even when it starts to hurt that you have enough basis to be worried.

the papers had ravished into every detail they could when it came to marineford, eager, eager, so disgustingly eager to find a physicality in ace's blood; they'd exaggerated every gory detail with a numbness that only those in their field are privy to. dug out open wounds where there were scars, tore wider cuts that were already stitched, ripped away the scab that had just formed— merciless.

you saw the news, everyone else in the crew did no doubt. and you'd have to give the paparazzi credit, they were there. you were not.

how the mighty whitebeard died standing, not bowing to any marine even in his death, stood as a shield for the sons he'd carelessly picked up over the years; how jinbei, shanks, all these big name pirates had shown up if only to cause enough chaos to make them regret; how ace— poor, sweet, loveable ace— died. you knew all the details, but you did not know the luffy that had lost his brother.

it was something that you did not quite know how to address when you'd come back from those gruesome years spent so out of reach from your captain, your crew, your family with only the trust you had in them that knew not one of them would go down. the return to saobaody archipelago was an undoing, the same way that it was when you'd been separated.

you worried a lot, and you're ashamed to admit that it was very much useless when you'd came across chopper first— and then he'd managed to coax you into buying him cotton candy like no years had passed at all. like time had been cut and sewn back together seamlessly and you were back to the day that camie and hachi were showing you around.

and from there, things speed up quick. you're allowed to sink into nami's arms when she offers you a hug, you laugh at usopp's stories of his mentor and an island that wanted to eat him, your stomach rejoices when it's finally satiated by sanji's cooking— you can finally smile at luffy, but there's no time for anything else. you've spent many nights grappling on how to be there for luffy when you were reunited, but he seems to return to you whole. toughened up, with that same smile that only reassures no matter what and after fishman island, you can't, in good conscious, ask luffy to slow down and force him back into the memories that no doubt haunt.

and haunt they do.

you've never reckoned luffy to be weak— no, he was your captain and he was the man who was going to be the king of pirates. you've placed your bets on him long ago, all in for this firecracker of a teen, but marineford had done something to him— to the luffy that has always stood so proudly in your memory like a god out of touch.

when you see a rival pirate sneak up on luffy from behind him, you see that photo that had been caught by chance in marineford. the luffy that had never bowed to any authority with his shaky arms, wrapped tight around his dying brother— not in the usual manner, the excitable way where he'd coil his arm around, once, twice, thrice. his fingertips barely touching as they wrapped around ace's middle, his head ducked down into the slope of ace's neck, shoulders closed in. this was not your captain who had taken down crocodile, who had punched a celestial dragon, who had saved countless members of his crew. this was luffy that had lost ace.

and you think, you've been thinking that luffy could have well died in that battle. it's selfish in a way that you know luffy would never quite accept, but you're a pirate. so you step in between the sword and luffy— and when you see the absolute horror that contorts luffy's vision, you think you can understand him a little bit better.

you wake up a little after less than twenty–four hours and nothing is out of the ordinary, except— except for the fact that your right hand is numb when the sword had driven through your stomach. hazily dragging your eyes over the lines of wooden planks that made up the ceiling of chopper's office until it pulls down onto a squeeze of your hand. "captain." your throat aches.

"you—" his bottom lip wobbles and his hand, wrapped around yours, squeezes again. you wince.

he sees it, he loosens up a little, but his fingers continue on, pressing between the meat of the bones in the back of your hand.

chopper comes in, sees you've woken up, and takes over accordingly.

you don't get to talk to luffy about this incident either.

things melt back into what they used to be and what stands out when you look at luffy is that expression that had degraded onto his face when you'd jumped in front of him. burdened by a shame and guilt, you let it be.

two days pass— not so normally as luffy has taken to becoming an unmovable extension of you and you let that be until it becomes a problem.

"luffy," he turns to you when you call for him, "are you okay?"

he makes a face that's as judgemental as he can fathom— it's similar to how nami's face twists, only his eyebrows are pinched more in a zoro–like fashion. "why?" sticks his face closer to yours and his eyes draw wide, deep and suddenly unfathomable, "you're the one in bandages," he says like it's an insult. you're surprisingly wounded by it though so maybe it was.

"it's not a competition." but if it were, you don't think you'd be winning. luffy doesn't dignify that with a response past a loud huff and shrugging away, his hands tightened around his ankle but the length of his arm is wrapped around yours. "i'm sorry, luffy." and it's obvious, far too obvious, that it would have been you that gives in first.

a good captain he is, luffy knows you have more to say— his ear twitches but he doesn’t turn back to look at you. amused, you reach out for his hand and pull it from his ankle. "i am sorry, captain. i think everyone is."

that interests him enough to incline his head back to you, the straw hat tipping with the slope. you leave it be and nod your head down to the material, resting against him. "for not being there." you can't see his face but you're shamelessly capable of imagining what it looks like right now.

"s'not your fault." he tells you, voice as even as he could make it. "it's," his chest puffs up like he was starting a sigh but it never goes back down. "i was right there 'n—" his voice cracks. "it was meant for me."

ah, you realise something, you've hurt him more than you imagined. the hand you've held loosely twists around and settles over your thighs; when he clenches down, violent in the blunt press of his nails softened over the material of your trousers, you don't wince. "ace must have been happy." you can say that confidently. "to see that his younger brother had come to save him— embarrassed too i bet."

cocky that you're trying to lighten the mood but luffy huffs a laugh so you know you must be right. "he was," luffy tells you, petulant and childish. "he told me to go away."

you let that rest for a while, let it dust off the still hurt that had been weighing luffy down and allow your captain to find that after his small laugh, something in his heart stretches outwards, then snaps back into place with an ease that he'd lost since marineford.

then you're at it again. "ace couldn't have lived with himself if you had died for him— and i know it well. if he had lost you and whitebeard at the expense of himself," you don't finish that sentence because you know luffy understands. it's in the way that his hand loosens around your thigh. "i'm sorry i wasn't there and that i stepped in the way of that sword, but luffy—"

"i know." solemn. "don't say it." demanding.

"okay captain." smiling, you push closer into luffy.

the captain and his first mate, and you say this with so much love in your heart, are two like minded buffons. you knew that they had sailed together in a little dinghy together before they had received the going merry from a friend of usopp's and you have to wonder how the hell they had survived. luffy was one thing, but zoro was another.

zoro's charmed you to believe in his competence. he's a monolith of a man— every part of him heavy, hurtful, mean, he carries three swords, his eyebrows set in a deep frown that is soothed by no name branded alcohol, steps silent and so sure. strong shoulders set back, the boredom on his face easily mistakable as an easy glare— they knew him as pirate hunter roronoa zoro before he'd crawled onto a pirate ship and claimed his title as monkey d. luffy's first mate.

you're disillusioned enough now by this untouchable man. he's one braincell that is easily swayed by anything powerful and it sometimes aligns itself with luffy's own singular braincell. zoro is little more than a simple muscle head that is aware, to a fault, of his own shortcomings. his reckoning had come to him on thriller bark; you've no idea what exactly it was. he maintains that nothing happened, sanji and brook (the only ones privy to this detail) refuse to blab about it. and you respect zoro enough to leave it alone, but you do not miss the look that he offers luffy's back sometimes, like he's discerning something deep in his itchy bones, teething around the ache to get to the rot.

you know his origins well. he's a force that had come, snarling and biting, out of the east blue— toppled whatever hierarchy they'd made there as a singular unit. you also know that east blue is the weakest of all four seas so it matters not that zoro was considered strong there. he may have had the strength to protect himself in that weak sea, but he was more than a lone wolf now and the rest of the world? it should not be underestimated.

zoro, prideful man he is, had to learn that lesson the hard way. saobaody archipelago was the hurricane after the storm; for a short moment after thriller bark, it had seemed like zoro had learnt how to live after nothing, how to cope with it. you're still curious as ever, but you know to leave well enough alone.

then, there's after saobaody, split into two very precise periods. before marineford and after marineford. you take it about as well as you could and though you're not one to compare, you know that zoro must have taken it harder. luffy and zoro's joining didn't begin with the latter pledging his loyalty, nami had dramatised the tale to express her woes of sailing with a group of brutes (and usopp), but it was enough for you to understand. after his first reckoning at baratie, zoro had prided himself as luffy's first mate, staked his claim as the man stood by his side. his own dreams weaved perfectly into luffy's.

saobaody happens again and zoro has only grown stronger in those two years— even though he's now missing an eye.

you recognise quickly that his pride, his ego is quieter these days. it's still as easy as ever for him to be riled up by sanji, but it's more stagnant. on nights where he's no reason to be awake, watch duty delegated to someone else— just as capable— he's awake, an overbearing presence that refuses to rest. on your nights, zoro hovers.

you don't take it personally. you know that zoro believes in your capability just as much he does his own, but recently, you've been doubting his faith. not the faith he has in you, the faith he has in himself.

"what's up with you?" you can't help yourself from asking one night, up on the highest vantage of the sunny where it's easier to see.

zoro peeks over his shoulder, levels his one good eye at you, and glares— wow he's good at using that eye. your hands slip from the purchase of his shoulders, the pressure that had been keeping him bent down against his calves lets up and he follows the singing relief, straightening up. "what'dya mean?"

there's a lightness to his words that you belatedly recognise from the past, he hasn't been letting you see that recently. whiplashed from the sudden realisation, you give him your own stink–eye, annoyed more when it only carries half the potency that zoro's does. "you're running yourself dry is what i mean." your hands settle onto your hips.

he's undisturbed by the attempt at dominance so you give it up quick. sighing as you slump down next to him; he continues to stretch without your help.

"who did you go to?" you ask after a moment, realising that you didn't know.

zoro, bent down against his right leg, body inclined away from you, answers easily. "dracule mihawk." his voice a grunt of effort with his organs crushed.

"woah. really?" you can't imagine that— or well, you can, but it wasn't very easy. he doesn't dignify that with a response, stretches his body to his left leg, his arm brushed up against your knee as he wraps his hand around his ankle. "you trained with that guy?" scrunching up your face, "can't imagine him offering to train you."

"he didn't offer," you eye zoro warily, like his back would split open and cymbal clapping monkeys would grow from his spine, "i asked."

"you did?" you wince when you hear the own surprise in your voice, even though you think that the cymbal playing monkeys wouldn't be so strange now. "when?"

"after."

you pathetically fight the urge to wack him, hands turned into fists. "after what?"

zoro can't eye you since you're sat on his left so he stretches an arm out to push away your face. "stop bothering me."

hitting his arm away, you lean into him. "you're bothering me. it's my night." intruding into his personal space, you push your arm through the gap of his torso and his knee, slapping his nose. "after marineford?" he bites your hand and you take it as a yes, though you're sure it could also mean fuck off.

you gag, pulling your arm away.

you know zoro well enough now to know that he's only at rest when he knows everyone is accounted for; never speaks it verbal though, does a rudimentary sweep of the sunny with his haki and settles when he feels the giggling chirp of his crews' heartbeat that soothes his own. you don't bother with words, zoro has no need for them.

shifting, you slide behind zoro. "okay," you relent, pretending that this conversation never happened. "thank you for keeping me company, mister pirate hunter." slumping over so that you can lean your side against his back as it straightens up, your head hits his shoulder as he grows, back to the steady obelisk that the sunny depends on.

"if you fall asleep on me, i'm telling luffy."

you wrap your arms around his neck, inner elbow against his adam's apple; you let him go when he taps out for the third time.

to live his life right, law needed a heavy hitting hand, a very forceful and demanding hand that knows no refusal. no one pretended that it wasn't necessary, not even the man himself; the task is delegated mostly onto bepo, who law has an unexplainable soft spot for, shachi and penguin, who can hide behind their self proclaimed roles as his seniors in life and grew up with him, and ikkaku, who law treats a little bit less rough on account of her being female.

that's why everyone was so disconcerted about being told to go to zou without him— it would happen ultimately because the heart pirates prided themselves on their selfless loyalty and what their captain says, goes. but the aforementioned childhood friends were a lot more vocal, could afford to be, about their dislike of his plan. everyone else silently sided with shachi and penguin, treated law like he might shatter for the following weeks leading up to the split, drove him up the wall with it.

despite it all, law is a good captain— too good, separates himself from the individuality that would intonate himself as anything but a captain, so he leaves his crew alone when they start treading 'round him like he's about a breath away from shattering. it doesn't last too long though, because after an entire day's worth of silent looks from his crew and then badgering from shachi, he blows like a poorly constructed pipe— you all blame it on shachi and he takes it as poorly as law did, if only more childish.

after yelling about anything and everything— unrelated things like the state of the kitchen, the stain that clione had been sporting all week, the state of bepo's fur (which the mink apologises repeatedly for), the scarce stock of coffee grounds, law is sober enough to glare at everyone, except bepo for whom he offers something of an apologetic look, and then makes a point of stomping to his room like a prepubescent teenager in the midst of his angst. following his outburst, everyone peeks around quietly at each other until someone gains the balls to speak.

ironically, it's ikkaku who throws her arms into the air and declares that she can't do it anymore. she's looking at you pointedly, which makes everyone else follow— even bepo, his two life seniors, jean-bart "traitors," you call them.

you follow after the quake of law's stamping, the metal panels of the polar tang squeaking under your careful feet as if forewarning your fate. you knock on the door of his quarters, forceful hand he needs, you don't wait for the answer that'll never come and come in swinging. "captain," you greet, acquiescently.

he looks all parts of a man that was mourning a loved one— the man he was before he picked up his idiotic and nosy crew. sat on the edge of his bed, knees locked as he stabilises his elbows on them and rests his head on his hands, fingers locked together. law doesn't even acknowledge you as you invite yourself in, overbearing and click the door shut behind you, ignore the fact that his two life seniors will come and press their ears up against the door.

a miffed huff leaves his throat when you take a seat next to him, the dip of the mattress makes you slide up next to him. "they're worried," you give him a pointed look that makes the sarcastic remark on his tongue shrivel. "that's all— we're not going to stop you if you're so insistent on going off alone."

your look doesn't stop him this time— incline his head away so that he can look up at you, something of a sarcastic grin on his face. "you seem hellbent on trying though." your eyes trace over the scruff of his face, up between the creases at the corner of his dry lips, catch on the honey gold of his eyes that flicker with his eyelashes.

"we physically can't," you sweatdrop, "you've built a crew of medics, who here can overpower you?" he shakes his head away, a small laugh, his shoulders loosening. "if only shachi hadn't been caught in his plans of procuring a set of seastone cuffs that we would've used to chain you to bed." you let out a faux sigh.

"don't try that again."

you eye his door, imagine the shiver that runs down shachi's spine with the veiled threat. despite how awful and strange the one–sided interaction ended, everything simmers back down and the crew is back to their usual idiocy when law leaves his room a half an hour after you've left and makes a point of not looking at anyone whilst making himself coffee, then dropping by the navigation room. the heart pirates bask in the coldness of their cruel captain's forgiveness.

when he leaves, it's full of tears and promises. law, as he usually does, looks about as emotionally constipated as ever and he can only take the dramatic farewell until shachi delegates himself as stand–in captain. he opens up a room, but doesn't shamble away until he tells you all that anyone— quite literally anyone— can be the stand–in captain if it means that shachi is not. you all wordlessly push the role onto penguin and then watch his room fizzle away after he shambles himself. then, the polar tang is off.

you all keep up with him the best you could. all you get is a newspaper headlining doflamingo's resignation as a warlord, it's hard to get news on zou, apparently. it's fine though— because even if law had not promised that he'd make it back in one piece, make it back at all, you knew he was a good captain and death was not as kind enough to take him yet.

when law comes back to you, he's smaller in a way you can't fathom. it's strange only because you feel like you're finally seeing him for the first time— everything redundant peeled back, the flesh that he keeps up to continue as a captain pinned away, bones shaved down, muscles melted, and you were staring at law. if anyone else in the crew sees it, they don't mention it.

when you're allowed to, your arms wrap around his middle— pat down his back as if feeling for his body and slide your ear against his heart. it's a hug that's too tender and intimate, less excitable than the ones that his oldest friends have offered him and law has since become a stranger to this kind of touch. he feels like an imposter when he lets his arms circle around you.

you don't say anything to law during or after that, don't bother giving him ammunition to be able to rationalise, nitpick, and dissect your words into anything less than it is. you leave him with a hug and make him grasp at the meaning.

if law is there, hidden around a corner or behind a tree, when you sincerely thank luffy for bringing him back— half–alive and less of a vindictive existence— whether it's by design or not, he does not know. but he's thankful regardless, for not being forced to come face with it.

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,100+, 1,700+, 1,700+, 1,400+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Dracule Mihawk

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, chop-chop fruit shenanigans, angst, romance, smut, kissing, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here, Please read the warnings. I am having a lot of fun with this series, but this one got away with me. They're only meant to be silly little drabbles between larger fics. Sorry for the lengthy read! Enjoy playing the part of a marine spy for Cross-Guild!

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @lostfirefly

Hips pressed against one another, huffing pants and gasps were collected in one another's lips and skin as he pinned your back against the wooden wall behind the burgundy curtains of the tent door. Legs collected over his hips, he held your left thigh in his right hand, his forearm caging you by slotting up between your right shoulder and the cool surface. 

Lusting and passionate, he drew intentional thrusts that were slow and deliberate enough to brush at your g-spot and mold your pussy to the contours of his thick cock. He slacked his jaw, his eyes swimming with emotion as he ground his pelvis against your clit with every heavy thrust. 

Your voice whimpered for him, stifling your mewls of pleasure by biting down into his shoulder and crying as he bullied his cock into your needy pussy. He groaned with you, rocking his cock in slow, languid thrusts up into your body. 

“Please,” you begged him, desperately clawing at his back and peppering his shoulders, neck and jaw with enthusiastic kisses, “We don't have long until the others come back.” He growled at your words, offering you a particularly mean thrust forward and a cruel bite against your neck. 

“A-Aah!” you gasped in shock, biting your lip and digging your nails into his shoulders harder. He sheathed his entire length greedily into you, his shaft twitching in bliss the moment he felt his blunt tip brush your cervix. His hips stapled yours against the wall he was bullying you against. 

“I don't care if they hear,” he barked against your neck, tracing his tongue over the bruise forming from his bite, “I don't care if they see.” He pulled back his hips only slightly before immediately propelling himself forward and forging his body against yours like soldering iron to a hot blade. 

“Let them hear,” he admitted, huffing against your neck as he rocked his hips into yours, removing his hand from hooking around your thigh to grip your neck and bring your gaze to meet his. “Let them see.” He plastered your parted lips with his own, desperate with tongue and teeth as he released your neck to hold your thigh once more. 

“I want them to hear,” he groaned into your mouth, rolling your cheek with his chin and kissing down your jaw, “I want them to see.” He trailed his needy kisses down your neck as he doubled his effort and sped up his rhythmic thrusting. 

As your core sucked him in each time he retracted, his mind was lost to him and was filled with primal desire. He needed them to hear your sweet moans and whimpers. He needed them to see who was making you feel this good. He needed you to know who you belonged to. 

“Say you're mine,” he growled, his lips mouthing up your neck, over your jaw and to your cheeks, “Say it.” He sped up faster, his cock hammering into you with every cruel, frenzied thrust. His hair was sticking to the dewy sheen of sweat against his forehead and neck, his brows furrowed as he glared into your eyes with an intensity he had never felt in life prior. 

“Say you're mine,” he barked at you, commanding you to fulfill his desires as his cock twitched within you. Your walls beckoned him closer, the thump of your ecstasy wringing his cock as he pistoned it within you had him desperately whimper and whine your name. 

“P-Please say you're mine,” he implored you in desperation, his fingers clutching your thigh in a heaping fistful as he continued to chase your mutual highs, “Tell me. Tell me your mine, and I'll be your slave.” He begged, kissing your lips and panting through his thrusts, “I'll be yours. Is that what you want?”

He chased your mutual high faster, rocking and pummeling into you with his heels digging into the floor. His belt buckle jingled atop his pants pooling at his ankles, your own pants discarded beneath you long ago. Leaning down, he took your peaked nipple into his mouth and rolled it over with his tongue.

A string of saliva attached from his lips to the puckered bud when he pulled away, huffing and panting at the lustful display of your breathing hitching. Body bouncing in sultry ripples with each thrust, he groaned as he felt his abdomen tighten with a familiar call of his imminent release. 

“Yes,” you whispered his name suddenly, clutching his neck and carding your hands through his hair, “Yes, I want that. I want you-...” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” 

He growled his pleasure at hearing your words into your lips, tongue lapping with yours and his hair brushing against your forehead. You hastily tugged him away from your lips by gripping the scruff of his neck and pulling hard. 

“W-What? Why are you-?” He began, his words halted by the intensity of your gaze. Your lips were parted, face flushed from a higher rise of hazy temperature, and skin forming lustful bruises and mapping his treasure with his marking kisses. 

“Make me yours,” you gasped at him, panting as your lust eclipsed your eyes, “Cum in me. I want it. Need it.” His eyes widened, and his jaw fell slack as his hips staggered their vicious thrusting deep inside you. 

“Fuck, I-I’m gonna-...” His abdomen tightened further, his eyes glowing black with luminescent lust as his seed spilled inside you with hot spurts, “I'm cumming-... hhah-... I-I’m cumming…f-f-fuck-...” Rope after rope of translucent cum released within your walls, the rhythm of your own ecstasy milking him with squeezing grasps on his throbbing cock. 

You called his name, throwing your head back as he trailed his eyes over your skin with adoration within his bliss. He couldn't get enough, reaching forward to collect your lips beneath his in a scorching mess of lips, tongue and teeth. With a desperate kiss to mold him against you completely, he forged an unspoken covenant to ensure you knew you were his and he was yours. 

Opening his eyes, the image of your blissed out afterglow faded from his vision. All that he was met with was the ornate ceiling in his bedroom, his cock twitching through the final waves of untouched pleasure. 

“No,” he growled, removing his duvet with his right hand and glancing at the lustful dance his swollen cock twitched with. A last spurt of cum spilled from the glossy slit and he immediately thrust the ruined blanket on top of his stomach to shield it from his sight. 

“Fuck.”

Sir Crocodile 

He balled his right fist, slamming it into the mattress beside his hip with a rumbling growl in his chest. Inhaling deeply, holding it for a few seconds, and exhaling slowly had him assess all that occurred to him with his night vision moments ago.

“Please say you’re mine. Say you’re mine and I’ll be your slave,” his own voice echoed in his mind, “I’ll fall to my knees and worship you in all ways. I’ll treat you like the deity I know you to be, showering you in praise and praying at your altar. Please.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered with half-hooded lessons, “I’ll only ever be yours, Sir Crocodile. Only yours.” He snapped his eyes awake, clenching his jaw impossibly tight and drawing his brows down in fury.

“I begged?” he snarled, reaching for a cigar and his flint-lock lighter, “I begged to claim you as mine?” He clicked his tongue before biting down on his cigar, lighting the end with a small flame and sucking in a sour lungful of smoke, “Utterly ridiculous.” 

Pulling the duvet away from his lap, he growled at the sticky ooze pooling at his abdomen before squaring his shoulders and walking to the adjoining ensuite in his master bedroom. The Cross-Guild tent did not have many luxuries, but he refused to go without simple pleasures while working with the disgusting clown. 

A bath was one such pleasure Sir Crocodile would not live without.

Running the water, he dropped each foot into the tub and sighed out at the contact of the freshwater rising to his thighs. The heat and steam eradicated his shame from his abdomen without much effort, melting it down and washing it away beneath the water. Groaning, he looked to his absent left hand and gazed down at the scarred stump. 

“We don’t have long until the others come back,” he heard your voice echo within his mind, drawing himself back to the dream and causing him to grimace in annoyance. He circled his palm and fingertips over his left forearm and molded the flesh within a firm grip. 

The pains on his phantom limb had returned, his mind racing and attempting to draw up distractions by any means necessary. Your midnight illusion was simply the latest commodity to preoccupy his attention with lustful desires, is how he rationalized such a shameful intrusion. 

He was a fourty-six year old man, not some prepubescent teenager so consumed with the need to fuck that their minds dreamed it into an untouched and sticky reality. The pain intensified, his teeth clamping in a rough hiss as the illusionary throb of his hand caused him to shake his arm from his grip. 

This was going to be a long and tiring day.

At the meeting, he was being short and harsh with anyone and everyone to cause him displeasure. His teeth snapped barks, his chest rumbling his fury and his hair was beginning to become disheveled. The clown was aggravating, and the swordsman’s silence was not as refreshing as it was under usual circumstances.  

His right hand only ever left his left forearm for the chance to draw up a cigar, yet the sour smoke did very little to soothe his pain, and his hand only seemed to make the intensity of the throbbing worse. As Mihawk and Buggy stood to leave the room, he remained behind and he finally hissed out a lengthy growl behind his clenched teeth at the pain. 

There was not a sound in the room, a slight ringing in his ears as the pain reached his head and dizzied his mind. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, he had no context for a gentle touch on his hand over his forearm until he snapped his purple eyes up to meet with yours. 

“Allow me, Sir Crocodile,” your smile illuminated your face, gently suggesting with your touch to remove his right hand from his left forearm. He attempted to fight the urge to bark at you, snap at you and give in to his desire to have you touch him. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing, Marine?” he growled, eyes narrowing and lips curling up into a deep snarl, “Who gave you the right to touch me-?”

“Oh, shut up. You've been horrendous today and I refuse to have this continue to be cause for your disgusting attitude,” you bit back, your own lips pulling back to reveal your snarl, “Let go of your arm and let me help you, damn it.” He immediately dropped his arm in favor of gripping your neck in a tight choke, bringing your face closer to his. 

“You dare to give me orders, Marine?” he roared at you, your teeth gritting back the pain and glaring into his eyes. “I was a former warlord, little spy. Now I hunt and kill your kind for a living.” As Sir Crocodile monologued, he remained ignorant of your hands working to find the clamps of his prosthetic hook and releasing the golden cover from his arm. 

“And now you touch me, spy? Offering me what, exactly?” he continued monologuing as you removed his hook and rolled up his embroidered sleeve. The pain in his forearm was so intense he could barely feel any relief of tension come from releasing his limb from the confines of his hook. “How are you going to help-... A-ah!” He gasped, his brows tugging up in the center of his forehead as he glared at you. 

Immediately releasing your neck, he looked down at his bare forearm within both of your hands and bit back a whimper. In his own grip, his scarred forearm felt hot and throbbing beneath his cooler temperature. In your warmer hands, his arm felt encased in an encumbering embrace like hot stones sizzling on a damp surface. 

Your thumbs traced the contours of his muscles, dipping between his bones and rolling his muscle between your fingers. The heel of your palm added a tight pressure to his ache, his breath coming out in rough pants the longer you held him in a tight grip. His eyes softened, his scowl loosening from anger to pain. 

Hissing and panting, an uncharacteristic whimper fell from his lips as you silently focussed on working the flesh within your skilled grip. Circling your thumbs and contracting your hands, you instructed him with calming and soothing words. 

“Deep breaths now,” you whispered in a slow and intentional hum, “In when I squeeze, and out when I release.” He nodded his head, feeling the soft roll of your hands over his skin. As you tightened his grip, his chest expanded with a lengthy inhale and exhaled as you withdrew. 

Repeating that motion, he felt the tension in his mind begin to release him from his illusions. Focussing on your movements as your voice soothed him with each direction, he didn’t expect his emotions to overcome him at such kindness. Your hard contractions over his arm eased up, your fingertips tracing the scars on the vacant nub and causing his flesh to tingle beneath it. 

“Better, sir?” halting your soft motions, you gently placed your hand on his forearm and held faint pressure over his skin. Reopening his eyes, he felt tangible relief wash its way over his face. Gazing into your eyes, you held nothing but empathy and gentleness in your twin orbs. He leaned down over your face, bringing contact between your two foreheads and offering you the slightest of smiles. 

“Why would you do that?” he whispered in an uncharacteristic soft voice, “Touch me like that? Offer me such kindness after all that’s occurred between us?” He raised his right hand and cupped the back of your head in a firm grip to hold you against him. 

“You didn’t kill me the moment I stepped into the red tent,” you smiled warmly at him, “Nor did you kill me any day thereafter.” Giving his arm another gentle squeeze, you glanced down at his missing limb and offered him a melancholy smile. He growled at your confession, searching your eyes for a further explanation. You huffed out a sigh, smiling further with a soft twitch up your cheeks. 

“I used to do this for my friend back at the marine base,” you offered him a glimpse at your history with your explanation, “Did it all the way up until the day she died. Said something about my hands feeling warm against her skin, different to her own temperature. Soothing.”

He chuckled at that, nodding against your head and closing his eyes shut in momentary bliss. That was why you felt so good on his skin, your skilled motions causing him aid and relief. You have done this before, and were offering it freely to him. 

“Oh?” he asked, his smile tugging at his cheeks and elevating the scar over his face, “And did she manage to say what she did without you by her side to aid her?” You laughed at him, breaking away your contact from his forehead and scrunching up your nose playfully. 

“I was always by her side, sir,” you confessed to him, nodding as you spoke, “She and I were inseparable, even in cabin quarters.” He nodded in understanding, looking down to his limb and back up to your eyes. 

“Well, if that’s the only solution for the pain I’m encountering,” he uttered, his lips curling into a wide smirk, “I would see you gather your personal effects and move into my cabin beside the tent, immediately.” You laughed at him, rising from his side and beginning to leave the meeting room. 

“I hardly think that would be appropriate. Don’t you agree, sir?” you question him, collecting your bag from the circular table in the center of the room. As you moved to leave the tent, a strong forearm snaked around your chest and grasped your shoulder, tugging you firmly into a broad chest. 

“Wasn’t a suggestion, Marine,” he whispered into your ear, the smooth rumble of his voice shooting tingles up your spine and causing you to gasp. “You’re mine now. Hear me?” He grazed his lips over your cheek and down your jaw in a slow motion. 

“Mine.”

Buggy

“Oh, what the fuck?” his nasally voice huffed, his makeup free face flushing with a hefty sprinkle of dark blush, “You’re fucking kidding me.” He reached down to his cock and fisted it in a pistoning motion. 

“Had to be you, didn't it?” he cursed your name in a pouty snarl, “The fucking spy.” He swirled his cock in his palm, growling at it before he simply detached it with his balls and brought it up to his face. He frowned in a deep scowl, drawing up his heckles as he began chastising his cock. 

“C’mon, man! How could you do this to me?” He growled at his cherry-red knob, choking it in his fist, “You think this is fucking funny? You think I want to see ‘em like this?” He drew up his other hand and slapped his knob, his pelvis wincing in response. 

“Out of bounds,” he berated his cock, “The spy is out of bounds. You know the spy is out of bounds.” He pinched his knob, choking it and only making his pleasure heighten. “N-Nnngh-... Not for thinking about, not for trying to fuck.” 

He whimpered, his priorly ruined orgasm still gluing his duvet to his stomach. He growled, hocking a wad of spit behind his lips. He spat on his cock in an attempt to degrade himself further, only leading to lubricating his ministrations and causing him to throw his cerulean colored hair back into his plush pillows in bliss. 

“Hhah-... The spy is not for you, you fucking idiot,” he gulped his confirmation, his cock thrusting itself in his fist beside his head as he frowned at it, “Think about something else,” he closed his eyes, meeting the thrusts of his cock with his hand as he tried to think about anyone else he could sheathe himself in. 

“Buggy, I-I’m gonna c-cum-,” he heard your voice whimper at him, his cock twitching in his hand beside his face, “Buggy, please can I cum?” He shook his head, attempting to picture anything else. Faceless breasts bouncing, ripples of an ass jiggling, parted lips panting and huffing with eyes scrunched shut-... Your voice calling his name with adoration pouring from your lips like honey. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted, shaking his head and attempting to go back to the earlier images. He only pictured your hair, your skin, your perfume, and your lips behind his eyes. Those lips used to spell secrets, split in a perfect ‘O’ as he pictured you slicking his cock up in your needy cunt with your erupting ecstacy milking him of his heaping load. 

“Fuck! No, no, no, no, n-oooh!” He threw his cock away from his face to not shoot himself in the eye with his release. It spattered the wall in a secondary wave of sticky cum like a grenade exploding on impact. “Nnnngh-... F-Fuck. Fu-uck-... C-cumming-.” His abdomen contracted as he rode the remaining waves of his orgasm untouched and unstimulated. 

Ropes of guilt shot out of his small slit and coated the wall and floor in a sticky pile of pearlescent cum. He groaned your name, huffing and panting as his hips bucked up in an attempt to stimulate his detached cock. 

“N-... No…” he whimpered, bringing his palm up to his face and clapping it over his lips. “Not the spy. I can't-... I can't have the damn spy. They're a bloody marine, you fucking idiot,” he degraded himself further, rising from his bed and wiping his abdomen of the solidifying globs of sticky cum with his duvet. 

He reached his cock, staring at it as it looked like a pathetic, slobbering drunk as it lay in a pool of its own drool. He clicked his tongue at it, picking it up and dusting it off before reattaching it to his pelvis. Readjusting his balls, he found his red jumpsuit and messily thrust it over his body in one swell motion. Instead of throwing his arms through the sleeves, he tied the material around his waist and offered to remain shirtless. 

“Not the spy,” he whispered to himself as he exited his ornate living quarters at the Cross-Guild base. Making his way to the kitchen, he was halted by a soft hum reverberating around the room. 

A familiar somber tune painted the air with its melody, his eyes shutting and the corner of his mouth ticking up as he listened to the lyrics. Stepping into the room, he attempted to mask his nerves with his signature mischief written on his face. 

As he drew his eyes over your features, your back facing away and staring out the window by the sink, he couldn't help but have the mask of protection slip away. Your lips whispered the lyrics, your heart carried the tune. You were not in your marine uniform, nor were you adorning the attire Sir Crocodile purchased for your protection. 

You were dressed in simple, gray-coloured slacks that hung loosely around your hips. The top you were wearing was a cropped t-shirt with his Jolly Roger printed on the back. His lips parted in shock as he drank you in, listening to your soft singing and closing his eyes to experience it fully. 

Before he could manage to say a word to reveal his presence, your hums ceased and your voice lowly uttered your apologies. 

“Sorry, Captain Buggy,” you bow your head to him in greeting, “I was not assuming the three of you to be awake so early. If I bothered you with my noise, I apologize.”

“N-No bother,” he huffed your name and hastily gave his reply to you with a soft blush, “I-... I haven't heard that song since the old days. Way back when-... When Roger…” He trailed off, looking at a point just beyond your hips and against the sink beside you. 

“I love the old shanties,” you chased his gaze with your own, angling your chin down and attempting to pry his eyes up to meet yours, “They're either about drinking, fucking, or grieving.” Buggy met your gaze, grinning up at you with his teal eyes beaming. 

“Ah, two of my favorite pastimes,” he added his commentary, leaning in closer and a cheeky smile pulling at his cheeks, “I’m not one for fucking.” He shot you a wink, prompting you to laugh at his joke. Your laugh was music, each soft teeter was as radiant as a lilt from heavenly minstrels. After teetering off your laugh, he offered you a soft smile with his eyes wide and curious. 

“Would you mind…?” Buggy trailed off again, nervously clutching the back of his neck and cringing through his smile, “...Could you perhaps tell me why you decided to join us, again?” He released his hand from his neck and darted his eyes between yours. 

After taking a moment to collect your breath and mull over what it was he asked of you, shrugged and offered him a simple answer. 

“The Berry is good, and it’s mutually beneficial,” you nod at him, smiling with your answer, “You were the one who offered me a choice, remember?” Crossing your arms, you leaned your hips back on the sink and glared at him, “It was either: spy for the marines as a triple agent for your Cross-Guild with a livable wage, or have Crocodile or Mihawk take my head. I chose you, Captain.” 

As Buggy was reminded of his prior actions and offered you a sheepish smile in response. Stepping forward, he reached for your forearms and waited for you to flinch away or chastise him for such a soft gesture. In the wake of such a softness, he was pleasantly surprised when he felt your fingers interlace with his own and hold them beside him.

“You know, ‘m sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, looking to his toes and pouting his unpainted lips, “Didn’t mean t’ have it sound so bad.” You smiled in response, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze and angling your chin down to look at his uncovered fingers. 

“You know, you’re actually quite handsome,” you confessed in a breathy whisper, “The infamous Captain Buggy D Clown, genius jester, king of fools, and calamity of chaos.” You named his titles with a soft smile, looking up into his rainforest-colored eyes with such gentleness. 

“You-... You think I’m handsome?” He asked you, your soft laughter prompted his own to slip freely into the air. You unplaced your right hand from his left and cupped his cheek within your palm, running your fingers through his hair. 

“You’re usually dressed in makeup, with your long hair tucked under your hat,” you collected a strand between your fingers and rolled your thumb over the lengthy blue locks, “And, you usually don’t have this much skin revealed.” Looking down at his chest: his messy blue hair trailed down his chest, tapered off at his stomach, and picked up again like a cerulean trail leading to the assumed treasure beneath his red jumpsuit. 

“I’m not used to seeing this much of you, Captain,” you muffled, drawing your gaze back up to his with a rapidly broadening smile, “And I’m not mad about it.” Your eyes creased at the corners as you offered him a toothy grin in response to his vibrant blush.

The hue of his cheeks rivaled that of his nose and jumpsuit, his eyes almost weeping from the rapidly rising blood pooling in his face. His Adams apple bobbed at the compliment, gulping back a dry pit in his throat and swallowing it. 

“Y-You know,” he stuttered, chuckling to cover his nerves and squeezing your remaining hand in his in two short motions, “I… I take back my earlier sentiment, uh-... If you’re interested?” He continued stuttering and choking on his words as he clumsily cartwheeled around his intentions.

“Oh?” you smirked at him, raking your fingers through his hair and darting your eyes between his, “And what was your earlier sentiment again, Captain?” You trailed your fingers down to the end of his lengthy locks. 

He gulped his terror and humbled himself by offering you a short, huffed laugh. After taking a moment, his eyes twinkled in mischievous hope as he rejoined your eyes in a smiling gaze. 

“I am one for fucking…”

Mihawk

Amber eyes stared in horror at the ceiling, wide and unblinking as he replayed the final moments over and over again in his mind. He drew his right hand down to grasp around the steel girth of his deflating cock and wield it in his firm grip. 

“I want that. I want you, lord Mihawk,” You whined his name as he pistoned his length deep within you in his mind's eye, “Please, I'm yours. Only yours.” His breath hitched in his throat, his eyes twitching but remaining staring vacantly at the ceiling. Thumbing over the prior release, he hissed in agitation the moment his fingers collected his viscous eruption. 

“How fatuous,” he snarled, raising his duvet once more from his waist, “So puerile.” His face remained vacant, his eyes holding only a touch more agitation than his usual persona as he walked to his ensuite shower. Turning the taps, he didn’t wait to feel the rise in water temperature. 

Stepping into the freezing water, he made no reaction as the icy liquid pelted at his skin; not even blinking to dampen his rapidly drying eyes. The water began to elevate in temperature as he released his cock from the grip. Gathering his sandalwood soap bar in his hands, he began lathering himself in foamy suds and washing over his body with his shock and shame still evident on his features.

The only time he closed his amber eyes was when he washed over his face, scrubbing at his whiskered chin and massaging his cheekbones. As soon as his eyes closed, he only saw your face contorted in pleasure, your ethereal moans freely haunting him in his ears. Shaking his head beneath the water, he only saw your face and imagined your hands clawing at his back beneath the water. 

Horror and shock eclipsed his eyes upon reopening, his eyes remaining that way as he concluded his shower, dried himself off, applied his cologne and skin care products, and dressed himself in his pants and greatcoat. His fingers stuttered over the lacing on his outer greatcoat, his lengthy necklace almost choking him as he placed it over his neck.

Almost stumbling into the dining space, he searched in his mind for a reason something so juvenile could occur for someone of his age, standing, and stature. He had gone for so long without taking a lover, he barely felt any lusting urges overcome him anymore. It didn’t suit his routine, his monotony, or his lifestyle as a former warlord. 

His apathetic and bored stature coming from a place of loneliness in his sovereignty as World's Greatest Swordsman. His achievements were already so vast, and he had nobody to share them with - nor a desire to begin a courtship with someone akin to his title. He had no time to take a lover, no time to indulge in whoring as it took away from his duties tending his garden in Kuraigana, and his bounty collecting as Marine-Hunter for Cross-Guild. 

So, why did his mind replay your pleasure over and over again in a loop of falsified memory? The marine spy, the confidant to cross-guild, the whispering oathbreaker; all the titles he sought to bestow you with. His hands reached for the bottle in front of him, clasping the green glass in his hands and uncorking the waxy tip. Pouring the rouge liquid into a crystalline glass, he felt a presence to the side of him.

“Could you spare a glass for me, my lord?” your soft susurration drew his attention back to the present, prompting his eyes to flicker to you. He witnessed your soft smile, your gaze assessing his face and shoulders.

Wordlessly, he reached for another glass and began readying it for you. The dry liquid coated the glass, a soft drop spilling from the rim and down the stem which caused you to knit your brows in concern. 

“Everything okay, my lord?” you asked, reaching for a napkin and beginning to clean up the mess, “You seem out of sorts this morning. Berry for your thoughts?” You dabbed at the table with the wafer-thin paper and tidied up his spill without a second thought. His eyes followed your motions, almost viewing the dabs in slow motion the longer your hands lingered near him. 

His silence seemed to perplex you further, turning your shoulders and leaning your hips back against the marble counter and staring up into his unblinking eyes in response. His shaking hands reached for his wineglass and drew it up to his lips. His mustache dipped into the liquid, messily staining his upper lip with the tart tannins. 

Gazing at his shoulders, you noticed a loop of his shoulder straps seeming to bubble within the corseted lacings, your hands absentmindedly straightening the bonds without much thought. Mihawk choked on his liquid the moment your hands brushed against his shoulders. 

Feeling the warmth float from your fingertips to the exposed skin beneath the weighty jacket, his eyes widened briefly and his pupils narrowed in an accusatory glare. Huffing a nervous laugh as his soft choke and shaking your head, you reached behind you to the pile of napkins and began to raise it to his face and lightly pat at his stained skin. 

Reactionary, he immediately placed his glass down behind you with his right hand, his left clapped around your invasive wrist in a circled vice-grip. Your breath caught in your throat, darting your eyes around his face with your eyes wide and panicked. He immediately drew his face forward and captured your lips beneath his without restraint. He hummed into your lips, raising his right hand and carding his fingers through your hair to deepen the passion.

Lips, tongue, and teeth pulled and tugged at your mouth from the swordsman, his gentle moans and sharp breaths depicting his wanton need to join himself with you immediately. He was pent up for so long, restrained for so long, and his body betrayed him in a shameful display in his dreams as proxy to such desire. If his overnight visit from you as his midnight muse spoke for anything, it was that his needs were now becoming more insistent, prominent, and desperate to be satiated. 

And you were who he wanted to aid him in such a task. 

Your hands raised defensively beside you, your eyes were wide and staring at his furrowed brow and tightly clamped eyes. He continued pressing heated and passionate kisses against your lips with gusto. Not giving you time to adjust or react, he anchored himself between your legs and pinned you against the marble dining station. Lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, he bit, nipped and sucked at your revealed skin. 

His hands looped around your neck and shoulders, drawing you against him with an incessant need to depict to you his desires with his unyielding grip. You gasped as his lips traced up your skin and returned to your lips, your hands dropping to brace yourself beside you on the marble surface. 

Pulling his lips away, he held your face stationary by palming at the scruff of your neck and holding your attention with his honey-colored eyes. His predatory gaze narrowed in on you as his bruise-kissed lips ticked up in his signature smirk. 

“There,” he snarled at you in soft agitation, before releasing your neck. He collected his wineglass and green bottle from behind you, keeping his face in close proximity. His smirk drew up further as he turned to walk away from you. 

Calling over his shoulder, he snickered his taunting remark at you before leaving through the door, “Now I can occupy your thoughts the same way you've been tormenting me in mine.” 

You stood there stunned, frozen in place as your lips still tingled with the feeling of his against yours. The silky scrape of his neatly cropped beard tickling your cheeks, the way his tongue brushed with yours, and the animalistic desire to consume you with his lust had your soul ignited. 

Turning to the marble bench, you claimed your wineglass and raised it to your lips, immediately gulping back the tart liquid in a heaping swig. Placing the glass in the sink, you stared at the door Mihawk just left through, your thoughts spiraling and sifting through all the possible scenarios of what his words meant, and what the kiss means for you now. 

Only Mihawk knew what he intended with the kiss, and after the morning meeting, he was going to give into his desires further and offer you a place in his bed to have his dreams become reality. 

[riza-jes]

Think of Ace who give birth for child but lost him on their third birthday, bc medicine in East Blue especially for jungle children and at the Dawn island is quite expensive and rll worthless, when you didn’t has bunch of private doctors.

And Ace give birth too early with stress and pressure, he had to rise his child and Luffy at the same time, but his poor baby was weak.

Bc of birth, bc of consequences how they grow, bc Ace already has dark DNA with birthing.

He’s almost died.

And Luffy was the only one who could help his brother and his little niece.

Ace in his 17 years old had to bury his firstborn.

They were nice, smile very brightly.. but still were very weak and vulnerable.

They shouldn’t even be alive after their first day in the world, but will of D, and all efforts (Ace, Luffy, Dadan, Makino, even Garp), his child love a little more, but in end still died too early.

His child had strawberry blond hair, bright brown eyes, freckles and many disabilities.

Ace loves them with all his heart, he was ready give everything for their life.

(Ace finally understand why Rouge did what she did. But unlike her Ace failed and his child, his special little baby…

Was dead)

How could you name a parent who lost their own child?

[hannahbarberra162]

Best Day of the Week (Benn Beckman X Reader, NSFW, fluff)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

It seems like once a week I get Possessed and have to write some scenario that's the sole thought in my brain. This week you get Beckman :) NSFW, silly smutty fun, face sitting

WC: ~1700

“It’s here!” you squealed as you gave the News Coo its Berri. You nearly ripped the Sunday newspaper from the Coo’s satchel and ran off to find Benn Beckman, first mate of the Red Haired Pirates. 

“Every week, she and Beckman go crazy for the Sunday paper. What is it?” Lucky asked Gab as you showed the paper to Benn, opening it to the back page. He gave you an easy smile, put out his cigarette and led you to his cabin. 

“They do the crossword together. Sunday’s the hardest one of the week. It’s some kinda game between them - who can get the most right or something. Watch, they’ll be done in about an hour and come out together. She’ll be fuming - furious when Beckman beats her again. Innit that right, Cap?” Gab asked Shanks, who was watching with idle interest.

“Something like that,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

It was a game between you and Beckman, though not exactly as Gab described. Every week when the Sunday crossword came in the mail, you sat on your favorite seat in Benn’s cabin - his face. He’d eat you out and you’d try to focus on the puzzle, filling in as many answers as you could. As soon as you came you had to put the pencil down and hand over the puzzle to Benn, who would finish the rest. If you filled in more answers than he did, the agreement was that Benn would let you tease and edge him, a game he rarely let you play. And if he answered more of the clues, you’d be edged until Benn decided you had enough. It was a fun twist on a familiar puzzle - and both of you enjoyed either outcome. Or, you would, if you’d ever won. Beckman beat you week after week, your pussy getting the short end of the stick.

Even though you did actually like the outcome of losing, the competitive streak in you had you wanting to win. It was infuriating watching Benn easily answer the prompts that had stumped you - in pen! - and saunter away, your pussy still dripping from the edging. He often didn’t let you come until that night - or the night after, so your desire to win was particularly sharp. You weren’t bad at crosswords but Benn was better - and unmatched in his cunnilingus skills. 

In order to ensure your victory, you did the crossword every day the newspaper came and even bought an additional book of challenging puzzles at the last island. You’d practiced and practiced in secret, sure you were finally going to win against Beckman’s tongue. All you had to do was hold out against coming long enough to answer 65-70 clues. You’d even thought of a strategy - you were going to focus on the shorter clues at the outer edges of the puzzles, leaving the long middle answers for him to complete later. 

You were ready when you climbed on top of Beckman, mentally pumping yourself up to win your first victory against the first mate. He was lounging in his bed, his pants already tenting as he looked over your nude body. You sat on his chest as his warm, calloused hands pulled and kneaded the fat of your ass. 

“Ready to lose?” you taunted, a pencil behind your ear and the paper in your hand.

“Mmh. I’ll always win either way. C’mere,” he said, pulling you further up his body. Straddling his head, you took the pencil from behind your ear, your already dripping pussy hovering over his face. You shivered, just seeing the Sunday newspaper had you slick, you couldn’t wait for the main event. “No cheating, stop hovering,” he teased, a finger running up and down your slit before grabbing your hips. You huffed in pretend annoyance and lowered yourself gently onto his face, your nipples already stiffening from the low groan he emitted at the first taste of you. 

The clock was ticking as you began reading the “across” clues. Beckman wasn’t wasting any time, his hands holding your thighs as he ate at you like a starving man. Your juices weren’t yet dripping down his face and your thighs weren’t shaking but based on how you wanted to mewl as his nose met your clit, you didn’t have all that long.

Ok, four letter word for a royal’s chair? Easy, you thought, face. But instead you wrote the correct answer, “dais.” Beckman was making quick work of you, lapping at your folds with his strong jaw, settling in for the main event. You wanted to use one of your hands to grip onto his long hair and grind down onto his face but you needed to focus. The rules were that if you touched his body first, he was allowed to touch yours in return, and you didn’t want to give him any advantages. 

Four letter word for a type of exam? You wrote “oral” as Beckman worked his tongue into your hole while his hands were gripping your thighs to keep you in place. After a few moments while you squirmed, he moved you farther down so your clit was directly over his mouth. You started to close your eyes and pant as he suckled as your clit, your toes curling but remembered the game and moved on to the next clue.

Three letter word for what one did at a meal? Beckman shifted a little, his mouth now working at your clit with increased pressure from his tongue. You wrote “eat” in wobbly letters as you endured the torturous friction of his tongue. He was such a cheater, you thought, he knew that if he spent most of his time on your clit, you’d come faster. You’d mention it later and add it to the rules but the thought was lost as your breath hitched from his tongue laving at you. It wasn’t fair - you’d practiced so many times and yet Beckman was reducing you to little gasps by flicking his tongue over your clit, your hips rolling against his face as you held the newspaper in front of you. 

Five letter word for a place where one prays? You didn’t realize you spoke the clue out loud until you heard Benn answer.

“Pussy,” Beckman said from beneath you, his voice muffled by your body as his tongue began tracing the letters on your clit. 

“Nnh, that’s n-not it, they d-don’t print those words in the p-hah-paper,” you whined, tossing your hair as his tongue worked your clit just right. He hummed, which only served to intensify the feelings. You keened as he sucked your clit gently into his mouth and followed it with tender licks, interrupted occasionally by long, loud, messy swipes of his tongue over the whole area. 

You didn’t have time for this - you needed to focus and keep your eyes on the prize. Having Beckman writhing under you for once was a need, not a want. You buckled down and got to work, filling out as many as you could as your vision started to cloud at the edges. You were rocking, panting, moaning, but doing everything you could to keep from coming. The puzzle was fading from your brain as you attempted to finish another clue. 

Five letter word for _____ and going? You tried to gather your thoughts, to think of anything but Beckman’s tongue and mouth, as you groaned above him, using one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. Something and going something and going, you chanted in your mind, trying to stave off the feeling you felt as the taut band in your lower belly wound tighter until one of Benn’s hands reached up to pinch your nipple. The pencil in your hand snapped as he thrust you into your orgasm, hissing and swearing as you ground yourself without abandon into Beckman’s face. 

“Nnh~ C-coming! Sh-shit, fuck fuck fuck Benn - so good fuck - I’m coming!” you screamed out as your thighs quivered around his head. Beckman’s only answer was to increase the stiffness of his tongue as you used it to ride your high, your juices now dripping down to the bedding below him. He wrapped a muscled arm around your waist to keep you in place, licking and sucking at you until you whined for him to stop. 

Panting, you swung your leg off him and laid next to him on the bed, your chest heaving and sweat dripping down your brow. For his part, Beckman looked the same as he did reading the paper - calm, cool, and collected. The only indication he’d expended any effort were your juices still dribbling down his chin.

“‘S’the last clue I did. ‘Coming,” you said in between deep breaths. Beckman ran his index finger through the slick on his face and popped it into your mouth. You sucked it, like you had so many times before, tasting your pleasure on his salty skin. Pulling it back out, Beckman gave you a lingering kiss before reaching for the now crumpled newspaper and pen he kept in his bedside table. 

“I’ll give it to ya, not sure it’s enough to turn the tides in your favor,” he hummed as you cuddled up to his chest, your pussy still dripping. Like every week, it took him seconds to zip through the clues, answering questions it would have taken you minutes to figure out.

“Now what’s a four letter word for ‘not found?” he teased. You groaned and covered your eyes with your forearm.

“FUCK!” you swore, your poor cunt already getting wet from the anticipated hours - maybe days - of being teased and denied orgasm. 

“Close, it’s ‘lost.’ My win again. You got 36, I got 94. Good work, you’re closing the gap,” he said with a devilish smile, folding the paper in half. He set the paper and pen back carefully on the table and grabbed you by one of your ankles. Pulling you towards him, he settled back in between your legs and nipped your upper thigh. 

“Let’s get you to say more words they don’t print in the paper.”

@mfreedomstuff

[j0hnpr1c3sm1ssus]

Simon Riley x Bartender!Reader

Title: 15 Minutes to Blow

Synopsis: You and Simon spend your 15 minute break away from the bar together.

Warnings: This is a blowjob fic. It's heavy smut. Could be considered mild praise?

AN: oml I adore this fic. I'm so proud of it lmao

As soon as it's 13:30, your break starts.

Simon? Well.. he's there pretty much constantly. Oftentimes he doesn't drink, just... Providing you with company and a menacing glare for the more confident of guys who think they'll get lucky. He doesn't work there, but he's paid during your break.

How is he paid? Well.. you both sneak into the pub's bathroom, and he gets a quickie.

Like today, for example. You're in that tank top that shows off your cleavage in a way that makes his predatory glare even more predatory. He gets... *Almost* violent towards anyone who stares at what he's practically claimed as his. 

And sure you're not "dating," but he lives in your house, sleeps in your bed, he cooks you dinner, and he spends all the time he has while not deployed with you--you *are* his family now. It's kind of nice, really.

Regardless you're both in the pubs bathroom and immediately you're lifted up into his arms, pressed against that sticky, piss stained wall that never seems to stop reeking. His lips are on yours in a matter of seconds, crushing and pushing just the way he wants. Your hands are on his shoulders, unable to do much else. His hands? One is holding you up (his body is doing the rest of the work) and the other has a grip on your jaw. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, twirling around in the sluttiest way.

He pulls back just when you're starting to enjoying it, looking at you with a smirk.

"Not wastin' m'last 14 minutes," Simon says, setting you down on the ground. He starts unbuckling his belt, "Knees.. c'mon."

And of course you get on your knees, after all--generally when you suck him here, he returns the favour at home.

Once he's freed himself from his pants and boxers, both of which are at his ankles, his hand is on his shaft, pumping it a few times over your face.

You open your mouth, tongue slightly sticking out, and he settles the tip on your tongue.

"Gonna take it, huh baby?" He asks with a chuckle, leaning into your mouth slowly. 

And you take it, letting him ease himself into your warm, gooey mouth.

Your tongue swirls around as soon as it's touching cock, "Eager f'me, yeah?" He chuckles darkly, letting out some beastly growls and groans. Once he's fully down your throat, he can't tell you anything; not if your cunt squeezes tighter, not your name, not his name--he's a man possessed by sheer lust and pleasure.

"'Ere we go... Take i' all," he growls out, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth, each thrust in hitting the back of your throat and making tears more, and thrust out leaving you feel useless and like a fucktoy. He's growling *filth*, telling you about how good your pretty little throat feels, how he wishes he could be fucking you over the counter.

Your hands are shaking, but one makes it up to Simon's thigh, gently holding onto it for support, especially when Simon's hand comes down and starts to use your hair--styled back into a half up-half down bun/ponytail--as a way to keep your head up, pulling and pushing on your head like his own personal fleshlight. You're gagging, mouth sputtering pre and saliva. 

He lets go to give you a moment to breathe, staring down at that pretty face, how tears well in your eyes from the gagging, how saliva is dripping down your face. He checks his watch, and it's 7 minutes left.

He strokes your hair in the hand that was grabbing it originally, his other starting to pump his cock over your face. Your mouth is open, tongue slightly sticking out, your eyes only on his.

He smirks a little, "How eager f'my cum are ya, birdie?" He grunts a little, readjusting his footing and letting go of his cock, "C'mon.. jerk m'off if you're so damn eager."

You hesitate for just a moment, before sitting up slightly and starting to pump your soft little hand. You spit on the tip, lathering it up and staring with those eyes that make Simon melt.

He leans against the wall on his forearm, starting to groan, "Open wide, dove," he growls out, putting his hand over yours, making you pump faster and faster. He stumbles a little, his hand stifling as cum sputters out his angry tip, dropping into your open, eager mouth.

He guides your hand, continuing to ride out his orgasm. Cum spills all over your eager little mouth, a large grin on your face. You swallow and he just chuckles, grinning weakly.

He bends over, picking his boxers and pants up, getting his belt redone as you stand back up and adjust yourself.

"C'mon, dovie, let's get you cleaned up," he says, stroking your cheek. He wipes your face with paper towels, and he kisses your forehead when he's finished.

"You feelin' ready f'work now?" He asks, holding your face--more cradling it--with a tender expression.

"Yeah, I think so," you mumble, leaning up and kissing his cheek.

"Alright, go on, dovie," he says, giving your ass a little slap as you leave the bathroom.

[orangeflowerr]

| OUTRO:CROSS THE LINE : IF I WAKE UP FROM DREAMLESS SLEEP MAY TOMORROW BEGIN LIKE A DREAM

“Are you still awake?”

you whispered to Zoro who had fallen asleep under the mast yet again. after being awoken from a nightmare for the third night in a row you decided to seek comfort from someone else. you decide to say it a little louder hoping the three swordsman would awaken. it was no use as the man slept like a log. which left you no option but to place your hand upon his shoulder and gently shake.

“Zoro,”

a loud groan escaped the man, after many attempts. a sharp tone was used for his words eyes still closed as he directed the words towards you,

“What?! What do you want?!”

his eyes squinted open, once seeing who he was talking to his face softened. he opened his arms, a silent gesture. you gratefully accepted his offer. head resting against his chest, the rhythm of his breathing almost lulling you back to sleep making you forget about the terrors that had woken you.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

his usual stoicism faded away as his fingers combed your hair.

“you don’t have to be sorry, you're worth being disturbed by.”

a feathery kiss was placed upon the crown of your head as you drifted into a dreamless sleep.

[chibinasuu]

Hello! I saw your req’s were open >.< so I was wondering if I could ask for a zoro or Sanji x sleepy reader. Specifically where reader is constantly sleepy and NEEDS their naps or they will be cranky like a toddler XD sorry this is just exactly how I am and I think it’s kinda silly <3 thank youu && I love your work

asdjkdlakdj this is such a cute prompt!! thank you so much for the request! i know you said zoro or sanji, but i couldn’t decide so i just did both :) 

hope you enjoy <3

Much-needed Nap

Pairings: Zoro, Sanji x Reader (separate)  Tags: sfw, fluff, established relationship, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Zoro

“Zorooo,” You pouted from your perch on the bench of the crow’s nest, “How much longer are you going to take?” 

The swordsman in question was doing some push-ups effortlessly in the center of the room, “I literally just started warming up.”

“Oh, come on!” You went over and crouched beside him, poking the hard muscles of his bare back, “It’s nap time.”

He paused and looked at you incredulously, “You already took a nap right after lunch!”

“I can’t help it that I’m already sleepy again!” 

“Well, go take another nap then.” He said, continuing his reps, “I gotta finish this set.”

“But I wanna nap with you!” You whined as you belly-flopped onto his back without so much as a warning, your arms clinging to his neck, “Now, Zoro!”

Zoro, the monster that he is, didn’t even stumble and continued with his push-ups as if there was no added weight of another person’s whole body on top of his.

“Fifty more.” He compromised. “You can stay where you are. Hell, you can just nap like that if you want.”

After a few more reps, he chuckled, “This is actually great training – I could use the extra weight.”

You swatted the back of his head, and with an exaggerated gasp, you joked, “Are you saying I’m heavy?!”

His movement actually stuttered as he burst into laughter, “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you love me anyway.”

“That, I do.”

The motion of Zoro’s exercise had a similar effect on you as a rocking chair, and you felt your eyes getting heavier and heavier. 

“...Forty-eight, forty-nine,” You vaguely registered Zoro counting, “Fifty!” 

He carefully lowered himself onto the mat and you rolled off him, “Ugh, finally.” 

Before Zoro could get up, you draped one of your legs and arms over him, trapping him to your side. 

Zoro laughed, “At least let me get dressed first.”

“No, don’t get up.” You snuggled closer to him, “I’m comfy.”

He squirmed to get you both into a more comfortable position. Now on his back with your head resting on his chest, he said, “Hm. Can’t believe I found someone who likes to nap more than me.”

“Seems like you met your match then.”

“Seems like I did.” He agreed.

It was dark when you were rudely awoken by Usopp’s shouts from below the mast, calling out that dinner was ready.

You sighed as you felt Zoro’s steady breathing, indicating that he was still fast asleep. You might be insufferable whenever you needed a nap, but your man was definitely more so whenever he needed to be woken up from his. 

As you gently shook him awake, his arm, which had snaked around your waist in his sleep, tightened even further. He buried his face into your neck and refused to open his eyes.

You let out another exhale. You could only hope that Luffy had not already inhaled all of the food by the time you two finally got to the dining room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sanji

“Hey,” Sanji called out, hands busy filling the kettle to make some tea for the two of you, “Do you want the blue mug or the yellow one?”

You were seated on the dining chair, your body slumped forward onto the table, arms pillowing your heavy head. It had only been a couple of hours since you woke up from your last nap, yet you could barely keep your eyes open now. 

The rain pattered on, the faint sound of it hitting the deck outside and the window of the dining room only added to your drowsiness. 

You had heard Sanji talking to you, but in your half-asleep state, you couldn’t find the energy to give him an answer. 

Sanji, still facing the stove, repeated the question in a slightly louder voice, thinking you hadn’t heard him. 

“I don’t care, Sanji!” You snapped as you put your forehead down on the table and closed your eyes.

Sanji paused, before immediately turning off the stove and putting away the mugs. Tea time could wait, he thought, but first, he needed to take care of his beloved. 

He walked to where you sat and touched your back gently to get your attention.

You lifted your head and looked up at him, about to open your mouth to apologize for your ill temper, but he already had a knowing smile on his face.

“Come on,” he said, offering his hand, “It's time for your nap, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed as you took his outstretched hand, “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Sanji only chuckled while he pulled you to your feet, “I know. You’re just tired, aren’t you?”

He led you to the plush couch on the other side of the kitchen, then sat down and patted his lap. 

You curled up on the couch, placing your head on his lap as you’d done countless times before. The cook’s delicate fingers automatically went to your hair, his gentle strokes slowly lulling you to sleep. 

“The blue one,” you mumbled sleepily, causing Sanji to reply with a confused “Huh?”

“I’d like the blue mug, please.”

Sanji smiled in amusement, “Sure thing, dear. We’ll get the tea brewing once you’re up from your nap.”

He touched his fingertips gently to his lips, then to your forehead, before returning them to your hair, “For now, sleep.”

You obliged, falling into a peaceful slumber, as you always do with him around.

a/n: FYI, i'm currently holding a cozy holiday drabble event so please join and send in your requests if you're interested!! check out the details here <3

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