mermaniaa

[mermaniaa]

bepo my love 🥹

You could never hurt me

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 3,100+

Synopsis: Each trusted crew amongst the Worst Generation of pirates had been summoned to support Monkey D Luffy in a battle none had seen prior. Of those that heeded the call, the Heart Pirates were the ones you had found yourself closest to, especially the first mate. When you found yourself injured, all you wanted was to reassure the first mate that it was his care you truly wanted.

Themes: Bepo x gn!reader, no gendered terms used, hurt / comfort, injury and support, mutual pining yet assuming unrequited love, crying, fluff, confession, kisses, graphic depiction of injury and resetting joints.

Notes: I wanted to write for Bepo before devoting time to another fic for him. He's such a beautiful soul.

The dust had settled, the anchor of battle had finally hit the reef and found its rest in the silence against the seas. The crews serving the unofficial grand fleet captained by Monkey D Luffy, and apprehensively joined by two other powerhouse captains, regained their composure and assessed the casualties.

Large explosions had knocked so many from their feet and away from the heat of battle, yourself one of those few blessed enough to shoot off your feet by its intensity. The pain of impact felt like something akin to a crunch and a thud, absolutely injured enough to cause you to withdraw from combat at this point. Pain, searing and intense, surged through your body, yet you remained stationary against the hard ground.

Amongst the assortment of armada, you had found yourself flat on your back and badly injured in the warfare. All of your injuries felt internal bar the unusual and foreign feeling in your ahoulders. Every bruise harbouring something more sinister lurking beneath caused your body to swell and rise in a contortion of flesh. Your lips could barely move to whisper the name of your doctor, Chopper, yet you felt your body begin to be poked and prodded by a gentle hand.

“Are you alright?” a soft voice called down to you from the position directly to your right. You felt as if your head couldn't turn at all, not for dislocation or break of your neck, but the bruising was simply too much to force movement. Your lips gently parted as you spoke up at them.

“I… I can't move,” you whispered as loudly as you could make your voice warble, “My body is too-.” The sentence was stolen from you as you attempted to move to view your present company, noticing first the snowy furr shrouding their entire form before the tangerine colored uniform.

“Don't you try just yet, alright? Let me help. I'll make sure you're alright, I promise,” he softly assures you, moving to gently move any objects around you and assessing the damage without touch. After he had concluded his search, he moved once more to your side and moved his hand over your shoulder. “May I make an assessment on you? I am more than happy to wait for your doctor to be finished with your swordsman, and simply sit with you in the interim, but I do have some training in the medical field. I… I don't like seeing you like this.” His tone was only ever soft, sweet, and gentle while he spoke.

Your eyes found his darkened hue, darting them between his before looking down to where Chopper was attending to an over exerred swordsman covered in rubied fluids likely not all his own. Slowly and surely, you return your gaze back to his and give him the softest nod you could gather. A small click of his tongue fled his dark lips to chastise you in your movements, yet still he began his assessment.

“I'm going to touch you now, okay? Starting at your head, going down your shoulders, and to your chest. Let me know if you're in any more pain, okay?” Bepo began just as he said, letting out empathetic sounds of pain as he witnessed you flinching, yet saying nothing. He softly spoke your name as he continued to move, only ever giving you praise as his paws began to check you over. “Oh, you're doing so well. All of the injuries to your head, neck, and torso look superficial, but… Oh,” his brow furrowed empathetically as he began to move your arms. “Double dislocation, I'm afraid. Can you feel your fingers?” His hum of your name was soft, sweet, comforting in every soft check over. This only aided in having you feel worse in your predicament, simply because after so much war and battle, the softness was almost devastating.

“Oh. Oh no. Oh no, please,” Bepo’s soft voice begged gently as his attention moved more to your face. Your eyes began glazing over with a thick wave of cathartic emotion slowly releasing over your lashline. “Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt anything in my touch? Please communicate with me. I promise I don't mean to.” Your lips quivered as he continued to execute only kindness and sweetness in his check over of your injuries. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he whispered your name, “Forgive me. I'll find your doctor for you. I promise it will be alright once I get him-.”

“-Bepo,” you silenced him as your tears continued to fall, “I… I need you to reset my arms. Can… Can you do that for me? Please?” Your request was as soft and sweet as his had continued to be for the time you spent with him. He halted his thoughts while gazing into your eyes, checking for any uncertainty in your glassy gaze.

“It will not be very comfortable,” he informed you, “And I would prefer to make sure nothing else is harmed yet. Please move your fingers to make sure the flow is still there. If you can't, it's okay. Just let me know.” You attempted to move your fingers on either hand, only managing to caused yourself more discomfort in the larger injury. “Oh, okay, okay. That's enough. Your tendons are torn and are sensitive to touch with limited mobility. Can I sit you up to get w better look?” He aided you to move to a seated position, caring and attentive to every motion, “Definitely a dual bankart lesion on each side. I am no surgeon,” he mentioned your name to gather your attention, “Would you prefer my captain? Or your doctor? Or any of the others-.”

“-Bepo,” you silenced him with a strained voice, “Bepo, my arms need to go back now. Please, I trust you. From one of this generation of pirates to another, one friend to another, please put my shoulders back in. I need you, Bepo. Please.” He stopped in elevating you in your raise, placing one paw on your shoulder, and the other on your bicep while his arm moved to completely support you from behind.

“It is going to hurt,” Bepo informed you courteously, “And you're going to hate me.” He readied his grip, awaiting your go-ahead to begin. As you gave him a curt nod, you prepared for the pain that never came.

“I could never hate you, Bepo. You're- AH-!” your gutteral scream caused a few faces to turn towards you, including that of your doctor who immediately frowned and hurried his work on your swordsman. Bepo’s apology rang on deaf ears as he readied to do the same on the other side.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he whispered, all apologies ending with your name and an empathetic hissed inhale of breath, “One more. One more, then we're all done with them. One more little one, alright?” Your soft sob only turned into a pained wail as he set the other bone within the socket, immediately causing your body to begin to feel both relief and panic at so much pain and so much relief occuring in one heavy motion.

A soft whisper of your name from the polar bear mink turned into a louder outcry as the world darkened around the edges of your vision. The warm engulf of furr with the scent of battle lingering on the thick boiler suit was the last memory you had before that darkened edge swarmed your vision completely.

Suddenly the world was warm, too bright, and too much all at once. The woven threads on your skin felt like a prison of uncomfortable fabric on your chest. A hummed beeping and several odd machines chittered beside you, but the sound that held the most comfort and stability was a soft snoring with the rise and fall of breath beside you.

Opening your eyes, they were once again greeted by an assortment of soft furr shrouded by common and non-uniformed clothes. Your hero that reset your arms, after the battle that knocked them out of place, was using your bedside as a makeshift comfort for his head while sitting in an ill-fitting chair. Without prompting, the first attempt at moving your arm was to seek out a small handful of his silken furr in a gentle caress.

Each movement felt like grouted tile grinding against iron-capped boots trodged in gravelly cement. Heavy, thick, uncomfortable, and crunchy in the most unnerving way possible. Your bones felt like jelly from misuse, causing your mind to swim in how many days had passed you to cause them to become at such a level as this.

Yet, your mind encouraged it's movement for the prize of clasping your hands around the soft fibres of his furr.

Bepo had long-since been on your radar of friends amongst the allied crews. His sweetness invoked trust in you, and his company caused your heart to beat heavily more often than you had cared to admit. It was one thing for two opposing crew members to enjoy one another's company, but the emotions you felt for the minkfolk was far beyond simple friendship - especially after he had worked so hard in setting your injured arms back in place again.

As soon as your hands found his hair, your body immediately breathed out a sigh of absolute relief. His furr felt like a mixture of silk and satin mixed with the finest hairs you had ever felt. The simple touch had your chest swelling with a shaken inhale, exiting your chest with a soft flurry of flutters within your heart. This contact grounded you to the point that you audibly heard the monitor slow it's speed while reading your heart’s pace beside you. A shift in the body beside you caused a slight blip in the system, prompting you to retract your hand from his head, only to find your wrist caught in a gentle paw clasp.

“You're awake,” Bepo’s groggy voice called up to you, “It's been a little over a week, if you were wondering.” He stretched his back, all the while maintaining soft contact with your hand. You slowly felt your smile rose at the corner of your lips as you listened to him continue, “I've been monitoring your levels and your injury repair. Doctor Chopper and my captain have also been checking intermediately on your injury, and to see if I reset the socket correctly.” He moved his paw from your wrist up to your shoulder, gently and apologetically giving it a soft squeeze. “I chipped your other shoulder a little by quickly putting it back in. I am so sorry,” he softly finished his apology by the conclusion of your name.

Sorrow overshadowed his features as empathy eclipsed his every emotion. You felt his heart written all over his every fibre. Each slow and soft motion caused your healing body to swoon in each passing moment.

“It doesn't hurt,” you informed him, moving your cheek to the external fur on the back of his pawed knuckles, “You could never hurt me, Bepo.”

“That's just the heavy pain killers and adrenaline from waking up, I promise,” he uttered quietly, moving his hand from your shoulder only to be caught between the blade and your chin in a bid to hold him there. As you tilted your head up at him, you triangulated your brows upwards while your eyes gazed at him with only love and adoration. “Don't,” he whispered softly as pain found his face, “Please. Please don't.” His softness in his voice was strained and filled with sorrow and devastation.

“Bepo,” you uttered in a tone as soft as his was, only absent of pain found within and flooded with an overwhelming need and overbearing love laden within. “I swear to you. I'm alright. You didn't hurt me, you could never hurt me, and whatever damage you did putting my arms back hurts far less than whatever it is you're fighting internally right now.” You used your other hand, wincing as your soft muscles grated on your shoulder socket like iron on corkboard, to gather his paw in your hands and cup your cheek with it.

“It's just the painkillers and the adrenaline talking. We're friends. Two friends on opposing crews fighting side by side, and I hurt you in the aftermath,” he nodded as he tried to convince you, refusing to release the burden he was fighting while caressing your cheek so tenderly, “I'll… I'll go get Chopper. I'll get my captain. I'll get a real doctor to look you over and I'll-.”

“-Bepo!” your voice was far firmer than you intended it to be, but you needed to hold his attention enough to reassure him of your frame of mind, “What is your problem? Why are you leaving so quickly after being at my bedside for a week? It doesn't make sense! I just woke up! Why won't you just talk to me-?!”

“-I can't!” Bepo uttered sharply, harsher than he had ever been with you in the entirety of your unlikely friendship. You flinched at the elevation of his tone, only serving the purpose of writing further pain on his face. All he could do is fight with himself before giving a soft sigh and almost collapsing onto your medical bed. The top of his head hit beside your chest beneath the crook of your shoulder as he began to openly sob against the fabric.

“I thought that was it. That was your end. I saw… I saw you… The explosion,” he spoke only ever softly and between sobs. You held his hand while you stared at the top of his rounded head. “I heard the crunch of your bones. You.. you… I… I tried to maintain my composure and bring you comfort, but I hurt you, and I damaged your recovery time, and I thought I hurt you far more than a hairline fracture to your bone, and you passed out, and I, and I, and I-...” His sobs only got louder and more intense as he began hyperventilating from the stress.

You softly, slowly, and intentionally choose your next movements carefully. Reaching down with your arms and fighting past the ache, you surrounded each side of Bepo's face and rose it up to meet your eyes with his. A small array of tears dampened his cheeks, alongside swelling over the dark lashline and remaining heavy in its wake. You darted your eyes between his, noticing small specks of dark chocolate mixed in amongst his onyx hue in each passing moment.

“Bepo,” your voice mirrored his prior softness as you continued to take him closer to your form. “I'm here. I'm alive. You could never hurt me.” The only emphasis depicted in every part of your tone was a purity he had not yet seen. In that intimate confession, the air grew thick and filled with a tangible chemistry beginning to boil over.

While still clutching his cheeks, neither were sure which of you moved in first, but you were both certain it was Bepo who made initial contact. His lips found yours timidly while his chest released the softest whimper you had ever heard. His large, damp nose brushed with your cheek as his smooth timidity was depicted in each slow and desperate motion. His lips molded against yours in a way you had never encountered or imagined prior. Only ever soft. Only ever sweet. Only ever with the most subtle and gentle spirit each roll of his lips could ever depict against your own.

Pulling away in a brief shock, Bepo suddenly breaks the kiss as soon as it began. The mink first mate opened and closed his mouth for a few moments before his tongue curled around a semblance of an apology.

“I'm-... I'm so sorry-.” Before he managed to expell that plea for forgiveness in the softest quiver, you surged forward with whatever strength you could in your recovery and placed your lips atop his once more.

The surge of passion in your body grew beyond that friendship you had founded with Bepo. He was your knight, your friend. He was the man you had grown to trust amongst the crew of allies. Or all of those a part of the worst generation, Bepo was the one man you truly felt in your heart you could trust. That trust had come full circle in the moment you found his eyes on the battlefield. That panic before the calm, that storm before the still, that kindness where you truly expected to see your doom and decay in a battle none would survive: you found Bepo.

In that moment, you knew it was never going to be the same. No matter which way the finite battle would meet surrender, you knew as well as he that the friendship you had was far more rooted in love than neither of you could ever utter an admission.

Until now.

As your lips parted his to deepen the exploration of his own kiss, his paws came to rest on your waist within your hospital bed. He gently thumbed over your hips and tilted his head to match your kiss, all with the softest blush tinting each of his furr-covered cheeks. Suddenly, his smile was all you could taste. Each passing motion of his lips meeting yours only grew his glee while he felt your reciprocation and boldness pressed into the exchange of love.

Pulling back and glancing at him, both Bepo and yourself held half-hooded eyes and glazed over expressions with love laced within. Whatever came from this moment, you as a straw hat and he as a heart pirate, you both felt as if a weight had lifted and your hearts were made full. Your hands pulled back from his cheeks and softly moved to cradle his knuckles resting on your hips.

“How are you feeling?” His soft question on his kiss-smeared lips only caused your grin to rise up to meet your eyes. Darting your eyes between his and drawing a laziness to your eyes, you answered him as truthfully as you could.

“Safe, Bepo,” your voice continued to hold that forthcoming honesty as you heard the door slowly roll open, “I feel safe. And in that safety, I have you to thank for it. Thank you, Bepo.”

A small sob fled his lips before it morphed into a gentle smile. Slowly raising your hands within his, he placed them against his lips and gently tapped each knuckle with a soft kiss. Whether or not your doctor noticed this or not was not their business, but you were certain Trafalgar Law’s lips upticked in the corners as he picked up your chart alongside Chopper. As they both informed you of your recovery time, all that your mind trembled with was the budding feeling blooming to full flower in your chest while gazing into the eyes of the first mate of the Heart Pirates.

Whatever end you were to meet, you hoped it would continue to be by his side and fighting to ensure the future of this great pirate era: flowering with love, adoration, and new horizons rising with tomorrow’s sun.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[mermaniaa]

what I think will happen if I message my mutuals

[mermaniaa]

Hey.

Hey, let me talk at you for a minute.

Just a minute.

✨Stop sending creators hate.✨ fuck, stop sending people hate at all, honestly.

Stop it.

I don't give a single fucking rat's ass why you think you have a right to send it, you don't.

Stop it.

Use that energy you got rolling around in all that bullshit and work on some self-improvement. A little introspection. Some bullet-journaling, scrapbooking, learn how to cook a new meal, study a language.

Practice cock-sucking on a dildo.

Do something useful with that time and energy.

Look, some people are gonna write shit you don't like. They're gonna draw shit you don't like. They're gonna have takes, and head canons, and entire personal havens built up around shit YOU DO NOT LIKE.

Block them, and move on.

You're not doing anything by being a bitch ass punk, going into their space just to yell at them about how much of a bitch ass punk you are. Especially if you're doing it anonymously.

ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE MAKING MULTIPLE ACCOUNTS TO KEEP HARASSING THEM AFTER THEY BLOCK YOU.

It's dolls, baby, we're playing with dolls. They're not real.

I know it can get intense as fuck, and I know you can get really attached, and I know your own little haven can become SUPER IMPORTANT to you. I know - I get it.

Learn to block people and move on.

I don't care what they're doing, what they're saying, what they're enjoying, or why it bothers you. I don't care.

It

Does

Not

Matter.

Block them and move on.

[mermaniaa]

One Piece is special because Oda will introduce Bozo McStupidface, former chief chucklehead of Weird Freak Island and make you cry uncontrollably over their tragic backstory of family, genocide, disease and proletariat struggle.

[mermaniaa]

turns out I will be elaborating further - with new characters <3

new rules - dua lipa 

don’t pick up the phone, you know he’s only calling cause he’s drunk and alone

Garp, Kid

don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again 

Killer, Loki, Koby

don’t be his friend, you know he’s gonna wake up in his bed in the morning 

Zeff, Heat, Bogard, Shachi & Penguin

If you’re under him your not getting over him

Beckman, Wire, Rayleigh

new rules - dua lipa

don’t pick up the phone, you know he’s only calling cause he’s drunk and alone

- Shanks, Zoro, Law

don’t let him in, you’ll have to kick him out again

- Buggy, Sanji, Corazon/Rosi

don’t be his friend, you know you’re gonna wake up in his bed in the morning

- Luffy, Ace, Sabo

If youre under him your not getting over him

- Crocodile, Mihawk, Doflamingo

~~~~~~~~~

i will not be elaborating further

@fanaticsnail

[mermaniaa]

I totally didn’t cry at all (lies)

It was very special to have and I will cherish it forever. It will be the second thing i grab from the house in a crisis, the first being my cat! 🐈‍⬛

In all seriousness i’m really happy that you continue to support my special interests in a, somewhat, feral way - the first feral was those love letters you sent me! (from blorbos)

Thank you to all the mutuals that encourage me to continue in my obsession, love you all 🖤

Sapsorrow

My sister @mermaniaa had a milestone birthday, and for that occasion, I thought I would do something a little different.

I sent the Mihawk x f!reader fairytale inspired by her ask to get bound as a book for her, alongside art of her OC as the Governess and Mihawk created by @thenotsofantasticlifestory from the scene in chapter two, and a ring that looked as similar as the one I pictured Mihawk gifting to his Lost Lady within. The cover art done by @i-am-vita was also included in the title and I'm in awe of how it turned out.

It's a book! And I'm so happy with how it turned out. Just a one of a kind thing that I was so happy it arrived in time and while I was up there to see her reaction 🖤.

Happy birthday, Mermaid!

[mermaniaa]

@fanaticsnail @physics-of-one-piece not fufufu….

Big hands for big potatoes

>>>

[mermaniaa]

You know that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Mr. Darcy walks across a wet muggy field? But like mix it with that scene of him soaking wet and drenched in the rain admitting adoration begrudgingly like a wet black cat in love? No hat, no weapons, coming to you not as a warlord or a pirate but a man?

yeah…..

Inspired by the immaculate vibes put forth by @fanaticsnail fan fiction Sapsorrow.

Art tags: @fanaticsnail @indydonuts @i-am-vita @sordidmusings

@gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @mermaniaa

[mermaniaa]

@fanaticsnail & @thenotsofantasticlifestory

A very amazing surprise birthday present. Thank you so much for thinking of me 🥹🫶🏻

It is so beautiful and i loved seeing my OC as the governess!

(sapsorrow chapter 2 😉)

another big thank you to @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[mermaniaa]

the perfect ending 🥹

Chapter 10

Masterlist Here, Moodboard Here, Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 2,600+

Series Playlist: Sapsorrow

"Whom so ever fits the ring becomes wed to the warlord who owns it"

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope.

Warning: MDNI, 18+, smut, making love, husband and wife, marriage, gendered terms, love, romance, supernatural themes.

Notes: This is the final, and shorter, chapter of Mihawk's fairytale au. I want to thank you all for allowing me to take you on a journey through this land, and I truly hope you have enjoyed your time here. Happy reading!

The sounds of melodies and the warm crackle of fire continued in its rise at the gathering on the grounds of Kuraigana. The merriment of the disjointed gathering held on the forefront of the new lord and lady Dracule continued to spread into the night. Many of the less spritely exited the party long after the first hour of their absence, and many more bid their farewell after the following two that continued thereafter. 

“You reckon they fell asleep?” the nasally tenor of the infamous clown grimaced towards the soft illuminance in the window above the steeple peak. The follow of several pairs of eyes trail up beside the teal gaze of Buggy’s lingering curiosity. 

“Now, now. That would be rather rude of them, don’t you think?” the red-haired pirate joined beside his old friend, smirking up at him while trailing his gaze up on the window beside him. “They’re newlyweds, but they’re still the two we know and love. There would be no way they’d fall asleep without at least saying ‘goodnight’, despite how long they've been waiting for one another.” 

Buggy scoffed, immediately moving to the other side of the campfire beside Sir Crocodile, who placed another cigar between his lips and moved to strike it ablaze. Once illuminated, he exhaled a breath of the sour mixture up into the sky, watching the wispy vapors joining with the pale moonlight. Within the silvery streaks glittering the chilled frost of the dust, the image shifted to reveal a shape of a haunting spectre glancing at him with malicious intent. Blinking rapidly to adjust his amethyst colored eyes, he assumed he was mistaken by some trick of the light. 

“Anyone know any other songs? Or something else we can toast to?” Shanks twirled around before the fireplace and beamed his smile brightly towards his first-mate, “Go on, Becks. Give us a reason to sing, would you?” The usually grimacing face of the silver-haired Benn Beckman withdrew itself into a soft smile while he echoed the earlier sentiments of the evening. 

“What else is there to drink to than the bride and groom?” he shrugged, uncorking another bottle of rum and gesturing to the guests that remained with them for a top up, “Everyone, raise your glasses, tankards, goblets, or bootheels in your case, Clown.” 

Buggy toasted up with his heeled boot, the froths of ales and rums mixing together to form an otherworldly concoction of blood-poisoning spilling over the edge of the leathery ankle as he did as such. Zoro and Perona elevated their glasses, as did the Red Hair pirates, Sir Crocodile’s associates, and a handful of remaining guests. Benn Beckman drew the bottle to the air and saluted to the illuminated window. 

“To the Lord and Lady Dracule, rulers of Kuraigana. Long may they live.” 

“Long may they live.”

Water sloshed over the porcelain edge of the bathtub as your bodies moved in synchrony against one anothers. Lips met against yours as your husband’s knuckles whitened on either side of your bed as he perched them. His hips staggered against your own as you gripped beneath his shoulders, clawing at his back to tether you against his motions. 

At a few more manic thrusts, he elicited a soft cry as ropes of his viscous release spilled deep within your abdomen. Your walls spasmed around him as words were lost to you. All that you could do was trust your new husband, Lord Dracule Mihawk of Kuraigana, to shepherd you through your ecstasy. Euphoria crescendoed and drew you both to your conclusion, all while soft echoes of devotion and adoration continued to echo within the silence. 

Mihawk’s eyes met with yours as his right hand reached to grasp your left, interlacing his fingers with your own while drawing his water-damp forehead flush with your own. Smiles slowly drew up your faces, Mihawk’s eyes creasing at the corners as his boyish grin became one silently promised to be reserved only for you. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” Mihawk whispered to you as he gave your hands a gentle squeeze with his own, “It appears I may have to assist you in cleaning once more.” You shook your head with your laugh, breaking away contact against his forehead to press a chaste kiss against the bridge of his nose. 

“That is how we got into this mess in the first place, my lord,” you retorted as you angled your hips, withdrawing himself from you and gathering the washcloth to the side of you both, “And while I do appreciate your desire to continue to ravage me well into the quiet hours of the morn, our guests are still outside by the campfire waiting for our emergence as husband and wife.” You began to wash yourself as Mihawk moved to the outer edge of the large bathtub, appearing out and witnessing a drunken stupor occur where Shanks was attempting to teach Zoro a swashbuckling maneuver. 

“It does indeed appear that way,” he uttered softly before becoming distracted in his viewing by you leaving the bathtub. With a small wobble in your step, Mihawk immediately stood and rushed to stabilize you: arms bracing against your shoulders and collecting your left hand with his own. “Easy now,” he uttered with a smirk within his drawl, “You must be more careful where you step, darling. We have been exercising for a few hours now, and you must allow your body to recover before attempting such a greater feat as exiting our bathtub unaided.” 

Rolling your eyes, you peered over your shoulder and gifted him a pointed look of disapproval. Where your students would have cowered and apologized for whichever way they vexed you, Mihawk only leaned down and gazed at you with a dark and possessive aura within his honeyed eyes. That darkened gaze drew down to your lips before floating back to dispute which of your own he would focus on the most. You shook your head to silently chastise him for attempting to begin another unspoken round of ensuring the union was undeniably consummated, stabilizing your stand and using him as a brace before reaching for your towel. 

“We gave our word we would return,” you spoke softly as you dried your hair and body with the featherlight towel. “And I know you to be a man of honor, Lord Dracule. As much as I desire to remain in this room, or the one thereover,” you turned to watch your husband in his glory exit the bathtub, holding his eyes against your own as you tied the towel over your chest, “We have the rest of our lives to explore one another within any room that takes your fancy.” 

Mihawk took his own towel and dried his body hastily before tying it around his own waist. As you became distracted by finding the appropriate part in your hair, two arms grasped around your waist and hoisted you into the air. A squeak fled your lips as those hands shifted to hook beneath your bare legs and around your back as your husband escorted you towards your marital suite. Your voice became jovial as you and Mihawk began laughing in complete unity, only halting when he placed you back onto the bed you had enjoyed a few hours prior together. 

“I informed you before I drew you your bath that I had a gift for you,” he nodded softly while moving his hands slowly against your body, down your knees and over your calves. “I would like to bestow it onto you now, should you be ready to receive it.” He withdrew his hands from your body and moved himself towards his adjoining ensuite dresser.

The rounds of rustling materials pricked at your ears. Buckles and buttons were the objects to follow, all before your husband had reemerged clad in a more relaxed version of his marital uniform. His pale, frilled shirt was unlaced to above his navel, an embroidered red and gold belt donning buckles and braces were hovering above his darkened pants. In his arms, an embroidered red dress matching the belt clasped around his waist.

“It is not as intricate as the ones you designed prior, nor is it as glamorous,” he informed you whilst stepping closer towards your form sitting against the bed. He slowly sat to your right, bringing the material and flat-laying it over your thighs as he did so. “It is another custom of my people. This is a gesture, a symbolic reminder that you are now representing not only yourself, but the Dracule name. I… My…” He trailed off, peering down and taking your right hand in his left. 

His wedding band warmed the back of your skin, a contrast to his cool fingers as he rose it to his lips. Placing a small kiss to your knuckles, he inhaled and exhaled deeply against your skin before resuming his speech.

“This was something my mother wore, one of the few memories I retain are all within the portraiture I hold in my treasury. She,” he brought his eyes up to peer into your own with that melancholy smile you had known drawing into his lips, “Would have adored you. All of you, my love. My largest regret is you two had not met in this lifetime.” He slowly reached up and hovered over the tie at the front of your towel. “The only question I have for you now is: will you bear this dress in the same way you will bear my name beside yours?” 

Without hesitation, you drew your hand over the one on your chest and fully removed your towel from your body. He smiled as you took the bust of the dress in your arms whilst leaning up to press your lips to his. 

“I am your lady, Lord Dracule Mihawk of Kuraigana,” you uttered firmly against his lips before pulling away, darting your eyes between his and shuddering through a smile filled with more emotion than you had expressed prior, “If you would have me bear your name, pledging yourself to be mine as much as I am yours, I will wear whichever dress you elect to don my form.” Mihawk exhaled a sigh of relief before a mischievous grin crawled onto his whiskered lips. 

“It would fare far better to greet our welcoming entourage than what I had to remove earlier this evening,” he uttered smoothly as you stood, hastily throwing the dress over your head and flicking your hair away from your face. You scoffed, scolding him wordlessly while fastening the embroidered material against your chest and body. 

Both yourself and Dracule Mihawk continued readying yourselves to greet your guests once more, all while stealing kisses from one another between each tie, sock, and boot. Upon returning to your mess of various states of drunken guests, a loud cheer uproared from the party as they welcomed you beside the fire. 

As you approached the burning heap, you noticed Sir Crocodile gazing pensively up in the clouds as opposed to the variety of onlookers gracefully welcoming you into their company. Perona and Zoro were the first to join you on either side, the former tugging at your dress with thick tears beginning to spill over her lash line. Zoro was fairing none the better, far from the bratty attitude he had once welcomed you with upon your introduction. 

Meals began to pour from the pot, the traditional midnight wedding soup exchanging between hands as Lucky Roux ladled each portion as it came. Both Buggy and Shanks had begged drunkenly for your forgiveness as they asked politely to spirit your husband from his position beside you to speak with him discreetly. Mihawk made to cast them aside in favor of spending his night soldered to your side, but you shook your head and spared him a moment away from you. 

Sir Crocodile continued to gaze up at the moon, eyes troubled by something within the light while whisps and vapors continued to waft from his lips and shoulders. Considering your husband was indisposed, you took the initiative to approach the hulking man lingering isolated beside the fire. 

“Sir Crocodile,” you spoke firmly to introduce your presence to the position beside him, “Are you not enjoying the festivities at this hour?” He turned to face you, gifting you that devious smirk as he gestured for your hand. Using his hook, he plucked the cigar from his lips before stooping down to place a kiss to the backs of your knuckles, rising as hastily as he stooped while making mention of your full name and title as his greeting. 

“I would assume you to be having a far greater time than myself,” he offered with a small chuckle before placing his thick cigar back between his teeth. “You are a married woman now, with name and title to follow behind. The World’s Greatest Swordsman as your beau, and a legion of allegiances to follow suit. Tell me…” He took a moment to pause, gazing up at the moon before drawing his eyes back to yours, “...Was it so bad afterall, Lady Dracule?” Sir Crocodile’s question was posed with an almost innocence and urgency to his tone, one that took you off your guard.

Taking a moment to ponder, you gazed down at the twin-set of rings donning your fingers. The union band forged by and for your husband lingering beneath the curse bestowed upon your courtship band.  You spared your thoughts towards each event that transpired to allow for all of this possible. The job offer, the two wards, the broody lord, the creature of fur and feather you eventually learned to be your husband in disguise: every element to the cursed Sapsorrow specter that drew each element together. 

“There are worser fates to be bestowed with, both you and I can agree on that as fact,” you admit fondly as you recount the dresses and love growing between you and your beloved, “I only asked for dresses to be made from impossible substances, nothing that my now husband had within his reach of capabilities.” You leaned forward, grasping his upper shoulder and giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. “And for your role in procuring one of those heavy feats, both he and I are indebted to you. You have my gratitude, Sir Crocodile.” 

"Lady Dracule," Sir Crocodile nodded softly, focussing on your motions while you withdrew from his side towards the merriment now returning at the campfire. Music was played by Cabaji and Galdino, a tune you were witnessing Perona attempting to take the reins in the masculine dance position while Zoro was the unwilling feminine counterpart. Your smile drew up on your features as the two of them eased into an easy rhythm, only growing broader as Zoro used his countenance to balance her motions flawlessly. 

Mihawk drew himself once more to your side, reaching for your hand and entwining it with his own as he lead you both towards the makeshift dance floor by the fireside. His eyes grew half-lidded as he leaned in, humming along to the tune as it came to him, only desiring to depict his love and adoration towards you in each swooping motion. As each moment passed, you and he both had it dawn on you with the sun as it split across the horizon. 

It was done, the feats finally completed. You and he had successfully become that which was bound in stone and gold: twin souls now forged in matrimony. Whatever those dates held was now secured by the tight bonds of unity between you and your husband, all with gratitude and smiles to the forces that thrust you together. All you had to do now was wait for the next tomorrow to rise and set, all with those to come thereafter: faced together as the Lord and Lady Dracule Mihawk of Kuraigana. 

The End.

Tag List: @maybe-a-bi-witch @fuzzyfestcat @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @mermaniaa @feral-artistry @be-good-please @sukilovesyou @acehyacinth @andriannag @one17 @canthebest1 @khaleesihavilliard @sentieence @lebanese-afg-ya @captaincupio @szired @sexc-snail @alphaash99 @mfreedomstuff @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrs-wolfwood @jaguarthecat @marsbars09 @vespidphoenix @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @indydonuts @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

Further Notes: Big thank you to my sister, Mermaniaa, for being the one to push me to write this series - and to write in general. This series was made to express my gratitude and absolute joy to have you as my baby sister. Happy Birthday, and I hope you liked it.

[mermaniaa]

Ease the tension

Masterlist here

Word Count: 4,500+

Synopsis: After an extremely long stint at sea, tensions were at an all time high aboard the Thousand Sunny. The one person that never seemed to let it impact the important work needing doing aboard was the ships cook, Sanji. Deciding he must be as pent up as the rest of the crew, you offer to help him ease it. What you didn't expect was how truly dominant being tense would make him.

Themes: Dom!Sanji x gn!reader, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, blowjobs, semi-public sex, kitchen sex, minor BDSM, top!Sanji, mean!Sanji (little bit, not much), coaching, praise, no prior relationship, mutual crush.

Notes: Massive shout out to @mermaniaa and @autumnnjoy for being a listening ear and beta reading this for me. Love you guys! Thank you for helping me out 🖤

“Just what the hells do you think you’re doing?” Sanji’s panicked voice called down at you as you knelt by his feet. The cool tiles of the kitchen met with your knees as you gazed up at Sanji with your eyes rounded and innocent. Your actions, however, were quite the opposite. Fiddling with his belt buckle, you effortlessly pulled the leather strap from its iron fastening while still peering up through rounded eyes and blinking nonchalantly at him.

It had been several long and grueling weeks of travel aboard the Thousand Sunny. Tensions had been beginning to arise in the comradery between the crewmates. Zoro was stuck in a bout of silence while only interacting with Sanji in an effort to bait him into a fight, Robin confined herself to her room to escape from the noise that was Usopp and Luffy bickering over who the captain truly was in one of the retellings of complete and utter lies, Nami was trying to balance her books before yelling up at Zoro regarding increasing the interest on his loans due to late repayments.

Chopper was more mopey than usual as he stated he was running out of medical supplies, while Franky was starting new projects left right and center to ease his ever whirring mind, and Brook was seemingly playing the same song over and over again. It was pure and utter nonsense, and the migraine forming in the back of your mind only eased up when the smile of the ship’s cook dawned on you like pure sunlight as he offered you tea.

Sanji has always managed to draw a smile out of you. There was never the moment of tension truly between you, and your friendship only seemed to grow more while you chronicled the journey of the Straw Hats. You pondered this more throughout the day spent etching in notes and cataloging memories from the last island you made port at.

However, each time you made a scratch in the notations, your mind always seemed to be drawn back to the ship’s cook.

The chef of the Thousand Sunny ran his kitchen like the commercial one back at Baratie. He got up at 5am to begin breakfast preparations. After breakfast was conducted in a varying schedule throughout the day, he moved onto several elements of preparing snacks for the next few days before the lunch meal was completed - all the while ensuring there were no dishes left behind to dirty the countertops in his work space. After lunch, there were further snacks. After snacks, there was dinner to prepare while dessert was being set in the refrigerator or baking in the oven.

Then he would do it all over again, each time the kitchen being more spotless and clean than the last.

As Sanji made his way back to the kitchen, you snapped your chronicler’s journal shut and hastily finished your tea. Your migraine had long-since left you with a newfound purpose forcing your momentum in every solid step.

Sanji was already doing the dishes, finally polishing the last pot with a dried tea towel before placing it on the overhead rack above his cooking space. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, rings left in a small dish beside the sink where they normally were when he would cook, and a him of a song he learned from the kitchens we're leaving his lips as he whittled down the wick of his cigarette to the edge of the filter.

You watched as he carefully began the routine of adding a moisturiser to his hands, ensuring the epitome of care to every nook and crevice of his greatest treasures. His hands were what formulated his art, and they needed protecting from any soaps and chemicals used in his duties. After the moisturiser came the rings. One by one, those circlets of beauty slid back on the pirate-chef’s lengthy digits down to the knuckles. The sight alone almost had you drop to your knees.

Which is where you found yourself presently.

“I’ll ask you again,” Sanji’s voice snapped you out of your momentary daze while your fingers set to work at his pant button, “What in the hells are you doing?”

All you could do was simply smile up at him while quickly flickering the onyx button outside of its fabric fastening. Before you had the opportunity to relieve him of his zipper, Sanji’s delicate hands gently grasped yours in a bid to stop them. You blinked rapidly while you wriggled your hands within his grip in a bid to continue completing what you set out to accomplish.

“Sanji,” you softened your voice and exhaled an exasperated sigh, “You’ve been taking such good care of us. You always seem to ease the tension with the crew by just being yourself.” You returned your eyes up to his and darted them between his shocked and partially disgruntled eyes. “I just… I wanted a way to ease your tension in return. If-... I mean… if you don't want me to-.”

“-I don't want you to,” Sanji hastily cut you off. Releasing your hands from his grip, he slowly reached down to take your chin in his thumb and freshly ringed index finger. Your breath hitched as shock and embarassment only had an opportunity to find you for a second before Sanji’s thumb tapped on your lower lip. Barely understanding what was occuring, the pad of Sanji’s thumb entered your mouth and pressed down firmly on your tongue as he did so.

“At least, not in my freshly mopped kitchen,” he uttered with a soft quirk of his lip. Your eyes continued gazing up at him while you instinctively began rolling his thumb on your tongue and gently bobbing your head at a very subtle increment.

Sanji’s eyes held an aura of command that you had only seen a handful of times: in battle with a foe about to be conquered, focussed on a dish that required extra handle and care, and bartering with a vendor to get the best price on the freshest produce. You had begun feeling like an enemy made from the best ingredients at the most fortunate price before Sanji removed his thumb from your mouth and gently rubbed your saliva over your lips and chin.

“And just what were you planning on doing to ‘ease my tension’, hm?” he quipped down at you, removing his hand from your face while the other fiddled with his belt. “Offer me a hasty relief with manic frivolity before I begin preparing the evening meal? Suck my cock in the kitchen, kneeling down before me at the sink and watch me unravel at your touch? No. I don't think so.”

The crack of his belt leaving the hoops lining his pants struck the air like lightning. He drew his other hand up to the belt and began fiddling with the leather and sockets. Butterflying it out to the sides, he nodded with his whiskered chin down at your kneeling body.

“Hands. Now,” Sanji ordered down at you. You gingerly rose your hands up in front of him with mild alarm ringing now in your eyes. He soothed you with a smile while strapping the loops around your wrists and tugs you closer to him. Leaning down towards you, Sanji tilts his head to the side and smiles warmly down at you.

“While I appreciate you taking the initiative to seduce me, darling,” he encouraged you with his smile still beaming down at you, “I don't want us doing anything like this in my kitchen. Contrary to popular belief, us chef’s from Baratie don’t particularly enjoy sexual acts in the space we work.” He leaned away from the sink, drawing you by your wrists to shuffle on your knees to follow behind him.

“It takes all the routine out of the kitchen, and throws everything off balance.” He aided you to your feet first, still beaming radiantly at you with a soft smile, he began leading you by the end of his belt towards the green sofa lining the circular port windows.

“Now,” he sighed out, turning back to face you and plonking himself down on the sofa while gazing up at you with a sweet smile, “Where were we, hm?” You rolled your eyes and slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his thighs. His knees straddled out beside each of your shoulders as you made yourself comfortable at between them.

“I was offering you a bit of stress relief because you’ve been taking care of us for far too long all by yourself,” you shrugged nonchalantly, moving your leather-cuffed hands to his parted fly and rubbing circles with your thumbs against his crotch. “You’re always so attentive to everyone's needs, working so hard to keep us happy and comfortable aboard in long stints at sea. I just wanted to give you something that I know you needed.”

“And how do you know what I need, hm?” Sanji leans down towards you, gently scrunching his nose and peering at you through the lengthy curtain of his bangs. He playfully. tapped your nose gently with his index finger. You initially frown before offering him a small pout to mask your hidden grin.

“Be so kind as to educate me, chef?”

A small spark bloomed behind Sanji’s eyes, blackening his globes as he leaned his back on the punctured sofa. Letting out a shaken sigh, he gently reached forward with his unoccupied hand and gently cupped your cheek while tugging on the belt.

“Alright then, chronicler,” Sanji mirrored your expression back at you, smirking while angling his chin upwards in a soft taunt. “Get my cock out for me and I’ll talk you through what to do with it.” He released your chin and leaned back against the sofa once more, gazing adoringly with his smile, but with that hidden fire in his eyes you can come to enjoy. You peer up at Sanji with a warm, tight-lipped smile and began to fiddle with his pants and reach gently inside his briefs.

Drawing your hands beneath the elastic waistband, your digits trail along the dark blonde patch of his neatly trimmed hair before finally reaching down and grasping his cock. He was already swelling with need as he twitched in your single-gripped hand. Slowly, you reveal his flushed tip and outwardly sigh at how beautiful he truly was. Sanji took care of his appearance, certainly, but his cock was smooth and simply almost sweet to behold.

“There you go, darling,” Sanji praised you, “That's good. Now, gently grip around my shaft and slowly pump it in your hand.”

“I have given a handjob before, Sanji,” you scoff while doing as instructed, gently fastening your hands around his cock. Gently rolling his velvety skin backwards and forwards along the ever-swelling shaft, you were surprised when he yanked the belt looped around your hands hard enough to hold you stationary.

“But you haven't given one to me, have you?” Sanji retorted with his smile turning more cheeky and mischievous, “And you were adamant about this being for me, right?” His smile grew yours on your face with a natural radiance, your own reflecting his mischief as he slowly released the belt to slack the binds.

“Yes, chef-,” you began, halting as he spoke over you.

“-It’s ‘Sanji’ here, darling. I don't want to be thinking about work when I've got you doin’ that to my cock,” he chuckled easily before his throat hitched with a small moan catching within, “Routine, you know?” You nodded as you moved your hands along his shaft, only ever gently caressing it in a soft tease in lieu of the hastened pace you were going to gift him in the kitchen, “That's it. Nice and slow. I… I like a bit of delayed gratification, you know? Like waiting for a souffle to rise in the oven or a brisket roasting over a low and slow coal in a barbecue.”

“I see why I don't call you ‘chef’ while doing this,” you chuckled as you moved your other hand to his inner thigh, “Comparing a handjob to brisket is very unsexy. ‘Souffle’, I don't mind. I could get behind 'Souffle'.” Sanji chuckled before a soft sigh flew from his lips while he hung his head back on the stippled backrest.

“H-hah. A little firmer and faster,” he gasped while his hips involuntarily twitched in a small bucking motion. You pressed firmly down on his thighs while you strengthened your hold slightly and focussed on drawing up your thumb to gently stimulate his frenulum with every up-tug. Sanji let out a breathy moan as he turned back to gaze at you.

“Th-That’s nice,” his soft praise was as melodic as those soft moans he was granting you, “Focus on my tip a little, darling. What you're doing with your thumb, I want it there. It’s sensitive, you know?” You bite your lip as mischief continues to grow in between the both of you. The thick air of lust was palpable as your own ignored need began to swirl in your abdomen and tingle in your pants.

Instead of using the hand pumping his cock, or the other bracing against his thigh, you leaned your mouth forward and lulled your tongue out and gently flickered the muscle over the small slit at the top of his mushroomed tip. Sanji’s whimper was unexpected, but he hastily recovered by reaching his hand to cradle the back of your neck.

“I don't particularly like teasing. Delayed gratification, yes. Teasing, no thank you,” his chastise was laced with playful admiration as he drew your lips closer to his tip, “If you're keen on sucking it, please suck it. Don't taunt me with just a little lick. Open up and let me feel that beautiful mouth wrapped around all of me.”

Sliding your lips over his cock, Sanji gently coaxed you lower with his fingers splayed over the back of your neck. Inch by inch, you focussed on swallowing around him while he eased you to take him entirely into your throat. You gulped a little, choking as the blunt tip brushed against your tonsils, but you took a few stabilising breaths through your nose and continued on deeper.

Once snugly fitting in the back of your throat, Sanji eased you back up to swirl your tongue over his tip. You followed the swiping motion of your thumb prior, swirling against his frenulum before bobbing greedily against his cock. At each pass of your lips circling his cock and swallowing around him, Sanji’s breath escaped him in small huffs and pants.

Contrary to his earlier notions, Sanji was as pent up as the rest of his crew. His work simply never ended, and his supplies were running scantily close to the end of its tether. He usually waited until his shift finished for the night, returned to the boys’ shared quarters, and viciously pumped his cock while his hand was clapped over his lips to halt his whimpers to relieve his tension.

It was just not working as much as it usually did. Not when you would always offer him a soft smile. Not when you would always offer him a gentle touch. Not when you would always offer, without fail, to aid him in the kitchen if it was simply too much to handle alone.

He could always rely on you, depend on you, and expect you as someone to lean on when travelling on the seas - likely why he was so keen on ensuring you had everything you needed. While you were not together romantically, you both had an unspoken familiarity with one another that had a small promise of more being possible to unfold.

The unspoken familiarity was further halted from speaking while your lips muffled themselves around his cock, humming and messily sucking around him as if his bliss was your life’s tether. Sanji let out a low groan as he felt his need reach its pinicle.

“Ffffffuuuuuck,” he whispered, gently massaging his fingers over your scalp and rocking his hips to meet your momentum. “That's it. Just there. Keep doing that. Y-You just keep doing that and you'll make me cum.” He tries desperately to keep his voice as even, commanding, and dominant as he began this small session together. As you hummed around him, vibrating your voice and flattening your tongue over your bottom lip, he simply couldn't help himself.

You gazed up at him and depicted simply need. A need to be filled, a need to be used, a need to satisfy, a need to ensure the Chef of the Thousand Sunny knew how truly valued and cherished he was by spilling his hot cum down your throat. He met your eyes with his own and picked up the pace of aiding you to gulp his lengthy down your throat and bucking up to match your bobbing.

“G-Gonna cum. Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum. I-I’m g-gonna-!” He warned you, which only made you keep the pace and focus on your task. Molten rings of his viscous ecstasy coated your throat, forcing your parted lips to swallow around him to the best of your abilities. The thick gulping sound of you drinking him in only seemed to have him cum harder into your mouth, the tadte barely making contact with your palate as you greedily consumed him.

“Cumming,” he panted, holding your head down to the base of his cock, pressing your nose flush against his pubic hair, “Fuck. Fuck. Gnghhh-, shit. T-Take it. That's my good little thing. Swallow it all.” He gave a few shallow thrusts into your mouth while holding you close. Just as your eyes began to water from lack of oxygen, he pulled your head off his cock and gently held your chin in his cupped hand.

“Come up here, darling,” he gasped. His entire face was flushed with that soft glow of relief as he soothed over your skin. The hand behind your head moved to his belt and slowly removed the buckles from your bound hands. He eased you onto your wobbly legs, slowly moving you to sit on his lap. His cock slowly deflated at every moment, still limply lingering over his belt as you straddled his lap.

“How are you feeling, Sanji?” you asked him while bringing your hands over his chest and gently caressing the cotton button-up stretched over his torso. Sanji moved his hands to your hips, rubbing soothing circles against your body with his thumbs.

“Like my ‘tension has been eased’,” he parotted your words back at you with a charming smirk. You shook your head and clicked your tongue at him in a bid to scold him, only halting as he drew his head up to nuzzle his face into the nape of your neck. You move your hands over his shoulders and hold him close to you, gently reaching up and caressing his soft hair with your hands.

“I'm happy to be at your service like this whenever you need it,” you affirm to him with a small smile in return, “I mean it. Any time you need relief like this, I'm more than happy to be there for you.”

“Careful now, sweetheart,” he chuckled, rubbing his forehead into your neck before pressing a gentle kiss against your throat, “I'd never want you to leave.” He slowly moved up and blinked dotingly at you through a flurry of his lengthy eyelashes, “Although, what I'd really prefer is just this. Just a little bit of human contact, you know? Human contact that isn't me and the moss-head sparring while we yell at each other. Just… Just me holding you like this is enough for me to feel relaxed.”

“Just like this?” you asked him, tilting your head to the side. He smiled up at you as he gently nodded his head at you.

“Just like this. Are you… are you okay with this?” Sanji asked softly against your skin. He pressed a deep and soft kiss against your skin, slowly moving gently up to caress his doting lips over your jaw and up to your cheek. His actions were soft, an apology laden in every motion for his prior rough treatment. “I went a little overboard. I… I don't usually have the luxury of being a little bit unrelenting. I'm usually a bit more gentle and doting when I… I mean, I don't usually have people doing this act for me in the beginning. Personally, I like giving a whole lot more.”

“If I didn't want it, I wouldn't have let you do it. I trust you, Sanji,” You hum as he continues to worship your cheek, neck and chin, slowly moving his kisses to above your lips. He hovered over your lips and tilted up his head, asking for permission non-verbally to kiss you. You tilt your own head in return and raise your eyebrow at him playfully to encourage his words.

“Can I kiss you, please?” Sanji asked sweetly, his hands softly beginning to caress your back softer before lingering over your ass. You laughed and shook your head in disbelief at his question.

“Of course you can,” you smile down at him. Leaning closer, you draw your lips over his before pressing them fully against the skilled chef. He immediately parted your lips and needily explored your mouth with his deep and desperate kiss. Your tongues collided in a messy and enthusiastic kiss, flickering together and tasting one another as you added a deep intensity.

“I want to pay you back,” Sanji muffled his speech against your lips, “I need to make you feel good too. Worship your skin, feel your flesh warming mine, show you how truly sorry I am for getting rough with you just now.” His hands move to gently place you on your back beside him. You laugh against his lips as he adjusts his pants back up, doing the top button and moving to cage you beneath his form.

Just as he began snaking his hand down to your waist, the kitchen door flew wide and your Captain’s smile was what greeted you therin.

“Sanji! Cook up everything you can, we're heading to a new island to resupply-... Oh, hi down there!” Luffy halted his question to approach you as Sanji froze in his position above you. Crouching beside you, Luffy reached out his hand and passed you a sheet of paper, “Nami said this is the map notes for your chronicling journal. Took me a minute to find you. Tried everywhere before I got hungry.”

The both of you exchanged a flickering alarmed look before you addressed your captain and his unwavering grin.

“Did Nami give us an estimate on when we're arriving?” you asked him as you attempted to hide your fluster. Sanji shook his head and disguised his own smile by turning his head into the back of the sofa.

“Said it was all in the notes,” Luffy shrugged before standing up to full stature. “Well, get to it, chef. I'm hungry! Make all of the food we have left in the kitchen. I need everything!”

Luffy rolled on his feet before turning back and exiting the kitchen as hastily as he arrived without mention of the position you and Sanji were situated. Your momentary silent fluster was immediately broken as the two of you began to laugh with every inch of your diaphragms.

The return of joy overwhelmed the both of you at that severed moment crafted by the hands of your captain. Sanji shook his head and pressed a soft kiss to your collar bone before sheepishly gazing up into your eyes. His brows sorrowfully triangulated upwards as a pout warmed his kiss-blown lips.

“I would prefer to return the favor right now, but if you wouldn't mind waiting-.”

“-You and I both know the captain will continue to periodically check on his ‘everything’ until it's done, Sanji,” you shook your head as you halted his words. Gently leaning up, you brushed his nose with your own before gently pressing a hasty kiss against his lips, “Get me back when we get to town? I mean, you don't have to. I didn't do it for you to owe me one, Sanji.”

Sanji shook his head and leaned off your lap, offering his hand to you to lift you up. Taking it, Sanji aided you to your feet and welcomed you into his arms in a warm, fully engulfing embrace. You both sighed out as you felt the tension fully release from your shoulders at the promise of a new port.

Lingering like this for a moment, you both finally pull apart and gaze into one another's eyes. Sanji’s eyes drew half-lidded, swarming with devotion and adoration for you, alongside the lingering promise of new beginnings solidified within this unspoken moment. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and holding you to him as if you would vanish at any moment. In the silence, Sanji and you shared breaths to calm yourselves before he finally broke the moment.

“I’m going to make you another tea, and bake something suitable to accompany it,” he nodded as he finally raised his hand to claim your chin in his hand. Slowly rising his thumb to caress your bottom lip, he chuckled and added another note of apology, “Perhaps a little bit of honey and lemon to help with your sore throat. Again, I really am sorry about that.”

“And I'll say it again: if I couldn’t handle it, I could’ve stopped you at any time,” you confirm with him, raising both of your hands up to hold the back of his hand, “I like you, Sanji. In all ways you come, I like you. A bit of meanness from time to time is fine by me, pretty boy.”

Sanji shook his head with a small smile before you both finally pulled away from one another. Sanji pulled out the kitchen barstool for you and gestured for you to sit before assembling the ingredients to brew your tea for you. You hopped up onto the stool and began looking over the notes and charts Nami comprised for you, opening your journal and adding the next stop into your course.

Everything was purely organic and fluid in the way you both worked alongside one another in silence. He assembled a meal, you took note on every ingredient missing and used to restock in town. He brought you your tea, you exchanged your kitchen notes with him. Everything seemed to flow into one, with joy reverberating in every notion where tension was found moments prior.

Sanji was already delegating an entire banquet of what he was going to do with you in his mind, stealing glances and undressing you with his eyes as a soft shudder in every breath drew through every exhale. Where there was once a kind gesture from one friend to another, Sanji was hoping for more to come of this small exchange of stress relief. The lingering promise of what was to come at the next port added an almost giddiness to every action, and you were both anticipating the next chapter of this friendship with hidden smiles and soft kisses at every opportunity.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @mermaniaa @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[mermaniaa]

average conversation between @fanaticsnail and myself

[mermaniaa]

@fanaticsnail little tobiuo!! they all look so great, keep it up!

So uh, got bored at work and sloppily drew other people's one piece oc's (I'm sorry if their ass please don't hate me-)

I hope you guys like it

Tobiuo- @fanaticsnail

Jack Daniel's 'Danie'- @lovethedanielhd

Nina- @dissvicious

Kicker- @themetalhiro

Kita- @auryborealis

[mermaniaa]

your art is just amazing 🥰

Bogard Bodice Ripper

👉 Masterlist

Follow the process: 1, 2, 3

Dedicated to beautiful @jintaka-hane 😚

I'm so happy to have finished it!!!! I love it so much, I cant's stop staring at it.

And can't stop thinking of more stories for them when I should be working on my professional portfolio... Oh, well, who needs a job. If you excuse me, I'll be trying to write while listening to Luis Miguel songs and the ten version of Historia de un Amor that I have listed 🥲

Stupid floor, we don't talk about lightning or perspective here...

.

Moots and interested people I remember: @fanaticsnail, @since-im-already-here, @sordidmusings, @gingernut1314, @cinnbar-bun, @feral-artistry , @writingmysanity , @tookawaiitoolive , @nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos

[mermaniaa]

The Luck Child Masterlist

Buggy x F!Reader

Summary: Gold D. Rodger once spoke of a luck child. A child whose luck would one day grant him greatness. But when that child grows into a man and begins to threaten the World Government with his growing power, they begin to plot. Either this man, whose luck keeps propelling him forward in life, wins the golden feather from a great beast and is granted the title of Warlord of the Sea, or that great beast kills him, ending his threat forever.

You are a Marine who, for the past five years, has gone undercover as a pirate. But when you are recalled back to Headquarters, you are assigned your next mission: join the Star Clown's crew and make sure he dies if he fails in his challenge.

But will the Star Clown's luck work against you?

Themes: enemies to lovers, grumpy sunshine trope, goofy x serious, slowwwww burn, hidden identity, forbidden love??, wild reader, wild marine reader, canon divergence (anime and live-action), canon typical violence

A/N: This is done in collaboration with @fanaticsnail and her Sapsorrow series!! She was the wonderful mind behind the creation of this whole little universe sprung from The Storyteller and the amazing mood board below!! Go read Sapsorrow if you haven't already cause it's ✨magical✨!! And the wonderful @i-am-vita created the beautiful banner above as well as the storyteller collab masterlist below!!!!

↞ to Buggy the Clown Masterlist | The Storyteller Collab Masterlist | One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

Guide:

⏳ = Coming Soon 🖋️= Ongoing ✔️ = Competed 🧨 = NSFW

The Storyteller - The Luck Child

"A luck child. Poor as penance, rich as snow, a great captain of a great captain. Wise men prophesied this child would one day achieve greatness."

Setlist: (Full Luck Child Playlist)

Running with the Wolves

False Confidence

Push My Luck

Chokehold Cherry Python

When You Say My Name

War of Hearts (Violin)

Chaotic Theme

The Luck Child: 🖋️

Chapter 1: Superstitions of a Dying Age Chapter 2: A Quick Chit-Chat Between Good Ol' Friends Chapter 3: Discussions of Pain and Chaos Chapter 4: ⏳ Chapter 5: ⏳ Chapter 6: ⏳ Chapter 7: ⏳ Chapter 8: ⏳ Chapter....

[mermaniaa]

Hi, I'm Mermaniaa! I write and draw sometimes in my spare time, formerly @since-im-already-here. I'm known as 'Smol Snail', as younger sister of @fanaticsnail. I hope you enjoy my reblogs and the things I make from time to time!

I am currently enjoying One Piece, my favourites are currently Mihawk and Sanji.

Banners made by fanaticsnail.

Klahadore/Kuro

Permit me to remind you Part 2

Klahadore x f!reader, workplace Romance, mutual pining.

This list will be added to as I read and reread and reread and reread.

Mihawk

Sapsorrow series  (F!reader) by fanaticsnail

The Apprentice (F!reader) by fanaticsnail

My offer will stand (gn!reader) by fanaticsnail

Buggy

You kissed the clown? (F!reader) by fanaticsnail

Sanji

Waltz (F!reader) by fanaticsnail

Limits (gn!reader) by fanaticsnail

Zoro

Gua-Sha (F!reader) by fanaticsnail

Sir Crocodile

The Heartless Giant (x reader) by cinnbar-bun 

[mermaniaa]

thank you… 😙

My offer will stand

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,800+

Synopsis: After being reprimanded by your boss for another mismanaged and hierarchical transgression transfer, you found an unlikely hand offering you comfort in the hallway behind your superior officer's door.

Themes: Mihawk x marine!reader, no gendered terms used, fluff, hand kissing, hurt / comfort, crappy boss, degradation and insults (crappy boss), affirmation and praise, flirtations, hat tilting.

Notes: @since-im-already-here said she was having a bad day. I told her to give me a blorbo and give me 40 minutes before bed. Have some fluff, sis. Enjoy the warlord.

It had finally broken you.

That welled dam you chose to keep behind the concrete slate of your resolve had began to crack the moment that cruel reprimand fled from your superior’s lips. It wasn't your fault, it was never your fault, yet you had become the scapegoat for all of the administration mistakes run by the marine’s International Charter Navigational Cooperation.

You had made the map, certainly. Each line and crease was of your making, as was the devotion you spend coursing over each calligraphed etch. But one misplaced line drawn by your supervisor was enough to tip the Vice Admiral over their edge.

Leaving the room after a cruel rage was imposed onto you, and clicking the door closed behind you, you placed your back on the wooden pane while you sucked a heavy breath through your nose and clenched your eyes tightly shut. You could still hear their voice ricocheting around in your mind and ringing in your ears.

“You can't do anything right.”

“You're a disgrace to call yourself a marine.”

“I should have you stripped of your awards and writing addresses in the mail room.”

“The only thing keeping you here is the fact your direct supervisor begged me not to discharge you from service.”

“The next mistake will be your last, marine.”

Exhaling, you internally chastised yourself by the way your lashline began to flood with the overwhelming emotion. Your breath felt more like a quivering sob than a relinquishment of air, and you hated yourself for this weakness. You were a marine, a hardened and trained soldier who devoted your life to your trained craft.

And this was the moment that broke you.

At the first tear, you sprung your eyes alert, checking first the hallway to ensure the coast was clear before another fled over your water line. There was no whimper, no sob, no sound other than your breath inhaling and exhaling as steadily as you could while you attempted to calm yourself down and ground yourself to the area around you.

The surrounds was a corridor with slate tiles, grout beginning to crack and fade into the floor and ruin the foundations. The windows were thick with ill-maintained cleanliness due to the heights of the marine tower and lack of volunteers for high-rise scaling. The lights illuminating the corridor was buzzing with an electrical fizz you had trained yourself to zone out.

The rhythmic clicking of leather boots and high heels rung on the floor to indicate the approach of a group of people you had not anticipated come to this side of the tower at present.

Seven warlords began to pass you. In your state of dishevelment, you stood your ground and looked straight ahead with an unmoving expression. None paid you any mind as you were simply a marine in usual uniform, and you chose to not let them see how hard your boss broke you by controlling your breathing and maintaining your stature.

As the last of the seven warlords moved past you, you noticed a clearing of a throat and a wave of something frilly and pale before your eyes. This small motion broke you out of your transfixed stature and you turned your head up to gaze upon a sight you had never anticipated.

“Dry your eyes, marine,” the powerful warlord of Kuraigana informed you curtly, “It would be unbecoming should any of the others have spotted your present state. Especially the feather-clad Donquixote.” You bat your lashes up at the world's greatest swordsman as you were shell shocked in your stupor.

Rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue, he simply stepped closer to you and immediately placed his hands on your shoulders and brushed off the white and blue panels of your uniform jacket. After your shoulders, he drew his hands down and straightened your tie, and began to shift down to your brass buttons to face them upright.

“Before you open and close your mouth in a bid to question why I'm doing this,” he spoke with a soft and sassy remark, “And believe me, I can already hear questions of: ‘You're a former marine hunter, why care about the way I look right now?’ and I would implore you to drop it and permit me to continue fix your attire to that more suitable of a marine.” He continued his fussing until he drew the frilled handkerchief up to your face.

Starting at your chin, he swiped at the few tears that spilled from your lashes up to collect the fresh few pooling on your eyes. His attention to detail wasn't lost on you. The flicker of his brow, the piercing gaze from his honeyed hue, the way his lips parted in concentration as he ensured your tear-blotched skin had returned to the way it should be was all causing you to truly delve into your mind of swirling questions hidden beneath your flickering eyes.

“I can see the question lingering in your eyes, marine,” he chastised you with a small smirk drawing up beneath his manicured upper lip. “And I explicitly informed you to halt them.”

“I had assumed you had fixed my attire to that more suitable of a marine,” you quipped in return as a small swell of bravery pulsated in your veins, “Which would indicate an opportunity to ask you why in the hells you're touching me like this right now.”

Mihawk’s eyes widened slightly, and his smirk remained drawn over his features as he almost released what sounded like a huffed laugh. He removed the handkerchief from your face and offered the monogrammed material out for a second time to you.

“Touche,” he tipped his feathered hat to you as you took the material from his hands into your own. You felt the brush of his cool fingertips meeting your own, the moment of time halting in a frozen standstill. The look he gave to you was almost soft in comparison to the hardened swordsman of great renown you knew him to be. His eyes held a gentle tease to them, knowing the next time you parted your lips would be with that same predictable question.

“Why are you so focussed on helping me, lord Dracule Mihawk?” you asked him plainly, “There is no reason for you to interact with someone like me. I'm nobody, just a lowly marine while you are one of the greater warlords of this era of piracy.”

“Because, my dear,” he stepped in closer to your proximity, his lips dropping closer to yours, “You're not just any ‘lowly marine', are you?” His hands clasped around yours, softly cradling the flesh of your digits beneath his own. He slowly rose your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand while his eyes maintained contact with your own.

“What you are is so much more than that,” he whispered intimately, holding onto each syllable as if he was afraid to let them go, "Allow me to elaborate."

“You are one of the greatest map makers of our generation,” he emphasised, pressing another kiss to your knuckles and smoothing over your skin.

“Everything you do, you do to the finest of minute and miniscule details that most could miss,” he continued, tracing his lips over to your wristband and placing a kiss gently on the seam of your uniform jacket, “And the marines are lucky to have you.”

Mihawk drew that hand behind his neck before finding the other and cradling it within his own.

“The only thing keeping you here is your own valour, honor and creed you bound yourself to when you took the vow to be a marine,” he emphasised by drawing up your hand to his lips, “Not some hierarchical leverage another assumes they hold over you.” He placed the other hand behind his neck to join the other behind him. Leaning down he emphasised his final words by almost placing them against your lips by contact with his own.

“And the next time they make the mistake of blaming you for another's misdeeds,” he tilted his head and almost caused you to close your eyes and lean into his embrace, “The monogram on the handkerchief holds my signate, and location to my keep in Kuraigana.” At the simple taste of his breath on yours, the whisper of a soft tingle of his beard dusting your skin, his contact was broken from you by a hasty step backwards.

“Should they do something as petty as speak ill of anything you do in future, or blame you for another's misdeed again,” the swordsman continued with a soft flicker of mischief in his eyes, “I have always wanted to place a true artist on my payroll.” He reached up to the broad brim on his hat and tipped it toward you. “As a warlord, I hold diplomatic immunity, which extends to my staff, as a promise of my contract to the marines. You would be taken care of, should you leave them for me.”

“Lord Dracule Mihawk,” your silence was broken as a warm flush began to flood your ears at his words as they sunk in. Mihawk’s smile ticked slightly at the corners before it fled his face and held the memory within the shadow of his moustache.

“My offer will stand indefinitely,” Mihawk nodded before turning on his feet towards the room where the warlords had disappeared within, “You would do well to remember that should you find yourself wanting more than a life of being reprimanded for something you simply did not do. Treat my word as my bounds.”

“I trust your word, Lord Dracule,” you nodded after him. He simply nodded his head and allowed his lengthy embroidered coat to flow dramatically at his heels as he disappeared down the corridor into the meeting room.

While you believed this to be the moment that had finally broken you as a marine, the sword wielding warlord offered you the kintsugi repair to bring beauty and promise from your fractured loyalty. You expected a reprimand from your boss to be all that became of you in this moment, not a promise of new beginnings on the shores of Kuraigana.

The question then remains as to whether you wait for another reprimand from your superior, a discharge from service and a severance package to follow. Or, do you leave with the dark-haired warlord as he returns from the meeting space with your higher ups and the others. In your heart, you knew which was the more honorable choice to make.

But what honor remained for you to hold onto after such mistreatment from your superiors?

Looking down onto the monogrammed material, you thumbed over the embroidery with a soft smile on your features. Your destiny awaited you, and you would claim that path under the cover of darkness: sailing on a coffin-shaped boat under the protection of the Lord of Kuraigana, one of the seven warlords of the sea, and the current title holder of the world's greatest swordsman to serve him as his artist and chronicler in his high keep.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e