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[namism]

hii have you posted the parts 2 and 3 of accomplices with Sabo? I see them on your masterlist but cannot find the links

- 🏁

hey anon! i haven't written them yet actually 😭 i indicate the succeeding parts in my masterlist to let people know it's a multi-chapter series buttt you can expect pt 2 within the week!

[namism]

i forgot to say this but like--i'm on break again for the next 2 weeks! some older requests will be out this week so stay tuned! and i'm incredibly sorry for the wait 😭

[namism]

i have the most heartbreaking sabo fic in my drafts right now and i just know it's gonna bang. let me know if anyone wants to get tagged 😭

[namism]

i'm (s)creaming

Happy Pride Month to Koby One Piece 🌈

[namism]

i was rereading my nsfw koby fic when i realized that there was no point in mentioning that koby tops and the afab reader bottoms because it's literally a heterosexual (and cis) relationship

what a great way to out myself as a frequent writer of gay sex. happy pride everyone

🏳️‍🌈

[namism]

sabo x reader (x ace), post-timeskip, nsfw

imagine having a one night stand with sabo but you don't know who he is. all you know is that he's hot, good in bed, and knows how to push you past your limits. it's almost reminiscent and as good as that one guy you hooked up with some time before that, but oh well. you don't know where that guy had gone.

the next morning, however, you find out that sabo has devil fruit powers. it's a logia, he says. when he shows it to you, you're stunned.

"where did you get those powers?" you ask.

"um... from eating a devil fruit?" he says. "why?"

you're too shocked to even answer him, and your stomach simmers with discomfort. you don't have the heart to tell him that the man you were with some time ago—with black hair, freckles, tattoos, and a uniquely decorated orange hat—had the same powers he now possesses, the power of the mera mera no mi.

[namism]

Hello!! I read that your request is open, can you make a omegaverse with Law?? He's cute with those leopard's ears and tail (you can do NSFW or SFW!)

hey anon, thanks for the request!! unfortunately i don't know how to write omegaverse stories 💔 in all honesty, i know two or three things about it so i'd be really scared to write a fic and butcher it. i'm sorry 😭😭

for more context: i mostly write modern (college/uni) au's and those set in the canon universe. i can probably make a mink law au tbh

[namism]

first shot (2) | koby

➳ categories: modern au, established relationship ➳ warnings: nsfw (virgin koby, afab reader, koby has wild fantasies, making out, fingering, oral, penetration) ➳ word count: 7k

➳ summary: You're Koby's first at everything, so naturally, he has the wildest fantasies about you.

➳ PART ONE | PART TWO | FANART (please everyone HAS to see this. credits to @mibso) ➳ cross-posted on ao3

When you wake up, Koby is sprawled on the floor.

He's in an inconvenient position: legs entangled with the sheets, pillow a few inches away from his head. He's sleeping on his side with his arms and legs stretched out, and in all honesty, it's a ridiculous sight. But this is what he gets for turning down the offer to sleep on your bed the night before, leaving him with a stack of blankets and a couple of pillows on the ground.

You quietly hop off your bed and crouch beside him. His clothes are ruffled and his hair is thrashed around like a mess, both evident signs of a good night's sleep. But his breathing is somewhat uneven, his eyebrows are creased together, and he's forming a scowled look that should never come by when you're asleep. As you watch him, his fingers twitch and his lips part open.

Suddenly, he gasps.

You're taken aback. It was a soft light sound, something you would have missed if you weren't paying close attention, but the morning silence was on your side and you heard it perfectly. And what you heard almost sounded... sexual. Like your boyfriend is currently dreaming of something that he shouldn't be dreaming.

"Please... please do it."

You don't know what to make of the next few seconds. Before you know it, Koby lets out a few other sounds, ones inherently obscene, while his face contorts between expressions. As he does, you watch him intently, frozen and unknowing what to do.

When he moans your name softly, that's when you smile.

So he's thinking of you. Great. This is your first time witnessing him fidget while dreaming and it's not pure by any means. The soft sounds that pass through his lips prove just that. You wonder whether Koby thinks of you like this on the regular or he was just unluckily caught him in the middle of a wet dream, but whichever one it is, you're glad to have witnessed it.

With every passing second, his breathing becomes even more uneven. His face blushes pink. You look down at his torso, hot and stiff, until you see him printed on his pajamas.

"It's okay. You can give it to me anytime."

And just like that, you remember what happened last night. The urge to throw yourself at him for the first time bare naked still sits at the pit of your stomach. It's still there, and it's carnal, especially now that you're witnessing him wriggle on your floor to the thought of you.

You want to do it. Now, without holding back. It's easy for you to get yourself wet when you're in the presence of your boyfriend and his obvious morning wood, and the last time you offered to blow him out of pure sexual desire, he told you that anytime was okay. But you're rethinking your decision now, and is it really worth a shot?

Koby rolls on his back and you can see him even clearer. He's hard and poking through the fabric like he wants you to do it, like he's calling your name. And he literally does as he vocalizes another moan, more akin to a whimper, this time around.

Your name sounds good when he says it that way. It's breathless, it's airy, and it rolls off his tongue just right. You're tempted to bite the bait, just do what your heart says it wants to do, but your brain takes over and you shake your head. Frustratedly. Koby is a virgin and you aren't exactly a world expert at sex. He gave you permission, but you possibly can't blow him when you're fucking nervous. He's going to freak out, and chances are, you will, too.

So maybe you should give it time.

And you do, because you slip out of your room right after that, leaving Koby to wake up minutes later with a huge problem in his pants.

A week later, Koby is invited to Helmeppo's bougie birthday party, which ends up being hosted at a nightclub that his father owns.

"We own many clubs. This is one of the two in this city," he told Koby once, and the pink-haired man never forgot about it since then. Koby never went to clubs (he always found them overstimulating), and Helmeppo knew that. So when he showed signs of refusal, his best friend assured him with an arm slung across his shoulder that he could bring a plus one.

That leads to where you are now. You're in the best clubbing fit you can muster because Koby decided he can't do this thing alone. It's his first time going to one—"I don't blame you, there's a first for everything," you said to him—and if he was going to spend the night with someone other than his friends, it would be you. Also, having you there saves him the trouble of explaining his whereabouts. He knows for a fact that some girlfriends don't appreciate their boyfriends going out to wherever without a warning, and while you're not exactly like that, he'd rather let you know.

Since Helmeppo is the star of the night, he's busy entertaining the many guests he's invited over that he ends up leaving Koby alone with you. "Wouldn't want to interrupt your night anyway," he says to you both. The club has been sectioned off so that his guests stay at the balcony, but he gives you permission to wander as you please.

With that, you end up tugging Koby to the dance floor below. You tease him when the music transitions to a famous pop song, clenching his hands with yours and busting out a flirtatious twirl on your heel. Koby just watches, more amazed than ashamed that he doesn't dance as well as you do, until he's smiling like a dork because his heart is just full of you.

When you're back at the balcony, he's sipping on a strawberry mojito. Since he realized that he can drink whatever alcohol he likes without spending a dime, he ordered a drink with an ABV that he can tolerate. Thank you, Helmeppo.

"It's not as bad as I expected," says Koby through a long sip of his drink. Really, he's telling the truth. Everything in the area just seems so rich and bougie, like everyone who walks by knows that he doesn't belong there at all. So he was expecting much worse when he arrived, but it's been normal so far, which he's thankful for.

You sip on a cute mocktail you saw the bartender serving earlier. "Ditto. I don't go out either, but I was expecting worse. Just a bit overstimulating, though." Case in point, the DJ raises the volume of an EDM track he's mixing with a 2000's classic, and you wince at the sound.

Moments later, Hibari swings by with Grus and a guy you haven't seen before, his pink hair and glasses piquing your interest. Pointing a thumb behind her shoulder, she says to Koby, "It's Helmeppo. We got an emergency."

Koby glances at you. You let him wander off with the group as you proceed to the bar below after a few words of safety. When you squeeze past sweaty bodies and make it to the bar, you're welcomed by an unwanted guest.

"Hey, I'm Drake."

As soon as you sit down on a bar stool, you're greeted by a man a couple of years older than you. He has gelled red-brown hair and cerulean blue eyes and he dons a navy blue jacket with a pair of matching skinny jeans. He offers you his hand, but you stare at it blankly.

Mentally, you sigh. Clearly, you're about to be hit on, which you aren't in the mood for, but you don't want to be discourteous since you're Helmeppo's guest and it wouldn't reflect well on his family business if you start an altercation. So you suck it up and shake his hand while you patiently wait for your drink to arrive. "Drake", as he claims to be called, sits on the stool beside you and tries his luck to get into your pants.

"Could I get you something to drink?" he asks.

You look at him. You can't start a fight, but you can play nice. "You own the place?"

"Nah, just a regular. I know the place and the people, so I'm pretty sure you're new." A red buzzer sounds instantly in your head. He's a regular? No. Objectively not your type. "We have a tradition around here to buy newcomers a drink, so I think I should get you something nice."

Talk about alarming. You aren't the smartest person in the world, but you weren't born yesterday. This is the oldest trick in the book and you aren't liking it one bit. Where the heck is Koby?

Unconsciously, you look back up at the balcony where you should see your boyfriend with Helmeppo, but you see him cozying up with a blond girl in a ponytail. A blond girl who you know. Your eyebrows knit together.

Hibari?

Directing your attention back to Drake, you take a mental note of what you just saw and offer the guy across you a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks... but I'm good."

"Alright then," he says. Just when you think it's over, he hops off the stool, turns around, and leans his weight on the counter so that he's showing off his wide shoulders and height. "You from around here though?"

You groan internally. Forget about expecting worse—this experience by far is the worst. You don't go out often, but you didn't think nightclubbers were terrible at reading the room. You wonder just how spineless you look to these people.

"Nope, just traveling. Tourist," you lie through your teeth.

"Ah, cool, so do you—"

Suddenly, the bartender pushes an alcohol free mocktail toward your way. You heave a sigh of relief and plunge a metallic straw through your drink. Drake chuckles deeply, pushing his hands down his pockets.

"Guess you didn't it at all."

"Yep." As you take a long sip, you turn around and see Koby approaching the bar, his pink hair almost glowing like a halo from a distance. He's drowning in a sea of strangers, but his eyes are trained on you and only you. For a moment, what you saw at the balcony didn't matter. "Looks like my boyfriend's here, too."

"Boyfriend?" Drake mumbles under his breath. He looks at what—who—you're looking at and nods to himself bitterly. "Figures."

The moment Koby reaches you, his body is tensed. He immediately looks at Drake, but politely looks away and allows you to entangle his arm with yours.

"Enjoy the night," you tell the guy before you pull Koby into the dancing crowd, your hand over your open glass to avoid spillage. As you sway to the rhythm of the music, Koby leans close to you and snatches the glass from your hands.

"Who was that?" he asks. He tries to sneak another look at the guy, but he glances away the moment he realizes that he's still looking.

"Some guy who wanted to buy me a drink," you tell him.

Your boyfriend's face twists into panic. He looks down at the glass in his hands. "What?! He didn't actually buy you one, did he?"

You shake your head. "Of course not! I turned him down and watched the bartender make it." Koby exhales deeply. You embrace him. "Hey, I've been drinking mocktails all evening, so you can count on me to make sober decisions. I should be looking after you. Are you drunk?"

"I had a glass of mojito," he confesses.

"Are you tipsy?"

He shakes his head. "No. I couldn't taste the alcohol."

Elbowing him gently, you tease, "Manning up, I see. Never knew you could tolerate alcohol like that."

He laughs. "I don't. I just didn't drink much."

The night flies by quickly. Before you know it, the clock strikes two in the morning as reminded by your preset alarm going off in the effort to snap you back to reality. The club hasn't died down one bit, but Helmeppo and his friends have. Much of his guests have dispersed through the venue with the birthday boy himself snoozing away with a bottle of Jack on the VIP couches, while you and Koby are awake and sober next to him. When you show the first signs of restlessness, Koby takes the initiative to call the night over and leaves Helmeppo under Grus' trusty care.

The next thing you know, you're in a taxi en route to your apartment. Koby is beside you fighting off his exhaustion. The campus has closed thanks to its curfew policy, so he can't sneak back into his dorm even if he tries. Thankfully, you're there to help.

Back at your apartment, you're changing out of your clothes when Koby's phone rings. He looks away from you.

"Who's calling?" you ask.

"Helmeppo," he says. "Let me take it."

The caller turns out to be Hibari. She apparently lost her phone somewhere in the club and didn't realize it was missing until she was about to leave, so she fetched for Helmeppo's phone and contacted him. Koby helps her ring it a few times until she finds it stuck in between the sofa cushions a few minutes later.

"What was that about?" you chime from behind. Koby spins around to see you in just your bra and sweatpants. He instinctively looks away until he realizes that he doesn't need to.

"Hibari lost her phone so she called with Helmeppo's," he explains, but you don't look pleased. Flashbacks flicker through your head in an instant and you feel your suspicions bubble in your stomach. "Is there... something wrong?"

"Really?" Koby blinks. Uh oh. That doesn't sound good. "She called you?"

Koby is starting to get nervous. "H-Hibari?"

"She was snuggling up to you back at the club." Your eyes narrow at him. "Don't you remember?"

Instead of sweating profusely, Koby just stands there, confused. He doesn't remember Hibari doing that and as far as he knows, he was sober the whole night, so he couldn't have possibly snuggled with another girl fully conscious. But he also couldn't have noticed it, which might be a problem.

"I-I don't remember. I'm sorry," he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it makes you feel better, Hibari has a boyfriend so I know she wouldn't try anything on me."

Your eyes light up. "She does?"

Koby nods. He tells you that the boyfriend in question was at Helmeppo's party earlier that evening.

"Oh my god— no way. You're telling me her boyfriend was that guy? Pink hair and glasses?"

"Yeah. Forgot his name though. You might have mistaken him for me," he says. He thinks you're done getting jealous, but you still look perturbed. "Are... are you okay?"

"Well, I know it wasn't you who I saw with her, but I can't stop thinking of the fact that her boyfriend looks like my boyfriend."

Koby laughs.

"What?"

Hugging him tightly, you lean your head on his chest. "Her boyfriend has pink hair. Light pink, like yours. He wears glasses. Circular ones, like yours. Plus, he's around the same height as you. All he's lacking is your green bandana and he'd totally look like a discount version of you!"

Koby can't help but laugh. You have a point. He sees the resemblance between him and Hibari's boyfriend, but he wishes you aren't too mad about it. Hibari used to like him but he rejected her immediately. And while you aren't apprehensive about the thought of them sharing classes and hanging out with the same people, you still have your worries whenever she gets too close.

"She even called you just to look for her phone when there are, like, a hundred other strangers at the club who can help her look for it." You frown. "I want to bet that she still wants you."

Koby shakes his head. He rubs a comforting hand on your back, careful to avoid your bra strap. "I-I guess so, but I would run to you and only you. I never liked her anyway."

You look up at him. Koby looks down. You're fully leaning on him now, all your weight supported by his body.

"You only like me?"

"I only love you," he corrects. He ruffles your head, and just to solidify that thought, he leans down further to kiss you.

With that, you kiss him back. Koby responds to it quickly. His lips move in sync with yours as his eyes flutter close. The kiss is slow, sweet, and gentle, but as you keep it that way, he can't help but recall last week's events, the last time you kissed him at your apartment. When you were on top of him. When you were driving him crazy on your fourth month together. Now that you're in his arms again, he wonders what could've happened that night had your mother not interrupted, and if you could possibly continue where you both left off tonight.

You stay in his arms for a while until you're standing again and kissing back with more intention. When Koby doesn't expect it, you back him into a wall and flip your positions over so that he's got you cornered.

"I'm tired of just kissing you," you mumble in between his lips. "I want more of you."

Koby blushes furiously, his ears turning pink in a matter of seconds. He keeps kissing you through your whispered wishes, giving you all that he can. Then suddenly, he remembers that you're nothing but stripped of your top. Temptation takes over him in that moment and he sneaks a quick peek at your bra—it's still hooked, unfortunately, but he sees your breasts just enough to have his mind spiraling.

In the middle of his lustrous thoughts, however, you ask, "You aren't drunk, are you?"

"Huh?" he whispers. He kisses you again. "No. Just tired."

"Okay. Good." You encircle your arms around his neck. "Then"—you sigh deeply—"then you can feel me just the way you want, right?"

You latch your lips on his neck and you pepper his exposed skin with slow sensual kisses. Koby tenses, his lungs collapse, and suddenly, he's breathless. When your hands move to hold his, he understands what you want.

"Touch me, please," you ask him sweetly, "please do."

At your behest, his hands slither around your waist only for you to move them further down your backside. Koby does what you say and roams his hands around your hips, then your ass when you force his hands lower. His face erupts into flames, so he feels you through your sweatpants reluctantly as he tries to make sense of the situation. But you pull him closer, and he feels himself press on your lower stomach. Koby moans, quiet but loud enough for you to hear, and once he turns into a mess—your mess—his hands are moving on their own, squeezing and caressing your ass until you're satisfied.

Your hands trace his arms until you're sliding them down his torso. You press one hand on the hem of his pants, and when he doesn't object, you palm him confidently. He gasps. You trace his dick with a sole finger and he squirms further, reacting with a harder squeeze on your ass.

You kiss him up his neck, a playful smirk dancing on your lips, and you wonder what he's thinking of. Somehow in some way, swiping Koby of his virginity is a pleasant thought, one that turns you on and drives you crazy. You want to see him begging for you and making pleasant noises in your ear all because he feels good and you feel good around him. It's a thought that you've always wanted to come true, and something tells you it's happening tonight.

You gently bite his earlobe. Koby gasps again, high-pitched and embarrassed, but he loves it. He's breathless and barely thinking when you whisper into his ear, "Do you want me around you?" like it's a normal question to ask. Yet he tries with all his might to process it correctly, so he ends up saying "Yes," in a desperately shaky tone.

"Touch me first then," you reply, which he initially doesn't understand until you take his hand and guide them down your stomach, past the string of your sweats, and into your underwear. You lead his cautious fingers around your pants and let him feel you up, touch your pussy through the fabric, until he's moving his fingers on his own.

His face is fully flushed now, but he's nothing but satisfied. He teases your folds through your underwear and feels the heat of your cunt on his fingers, then he boldly decides to think fuck it and sweeps your panties to the side. He coats his fingers with your slick—hot, wet, and smooth—and rubs your lips with them, spreading your folds wider so he can slip in later on. Koby thinks back to his wet dreams where he imagined doing this to you over and over again and wonders if he's doing a good job now. He wants to ask, but his voice betrays him because he's pathetically scared of it. Yet you notice his conflicted emotions, and eventually pulling him closer, you whisper, "You feel good, keep going," which gives him the assurance that he's been waiting for.

Koby twists his wrists inside you and teases you rhythmically until he rakes your sweats. "Bed," you whisper, and together, you make a beeline for your bedroom where you strip for him, tugging your sweatpants and panties down your legs and unclasping your bra. Koby watches you from the edge of the bed with lust, takes in the sight of your tits and growing wetness, and decides to get rid of his shirt. You pull him on top of you and spread your legs wide for him. Koby brings his fingers back to your pussy, this time with much access, and observes your wetness while he plays with you.

When you're wet enough, he pushes his middle finger in your pussy and it slides in smoothly. "Is this okay?"

"Add another one," you beg through a moan, "please."

It doesn't take much to listen to you. Koby slides his ring finger next, and with two of them inside you, he moves them around, first at a slow safe pace, then second at a faster rhythmic pace that coaxes a low moan out of you. Koby knows he's doing well when your hands begin to claw at his bare chest, red and hot with sex flush, so he decides to quicken the pump of his fingers.

With every push inside you, he watches your pussy blossom for him. You take him so nicely, so wetly, so smoothly and with ease. Koby wishes it's his dick and he twitches in his pants, but he ignores it because if he ponders on it, if he thinks too hard, he's going to cum without you even touching him. And that would simply take the fun away.

Watching you stain his fingers lures Koby to fuck you faster, and with every moan, you buck your hips into his hand. He experimentally presses his other hand down on your lower stomach, adds some pressure that you find out you love, and boldly dives into you. You yelp as his tongue meets your pussy and flicks rapidly through your folds, collecting your wetness and tasting you without shame. Your hands fly to his hair, and you tug on it with his every lick. Koby whines into you but he doesn't stop. Instead he continues to eat you out like he'd always desired, his noises muffled in between your legs.

Shifting around the bed, he lays down on his chest and leans back into you. When you're close, Koby moves his lips to your clit and sucks on it. You throw your head back onto your pillows at the contact, and almost immediately, your legs close around his head. As you ride his tongue, Koby keeps your legs open with a strong hand on your thigh, but you respond with the placement of a loving hand on his cheek.

"I love that thing that you do," you encourage him. He looks up with glossy eyes. "Do it again."

"You mean this?" He flicks his tongue again on your clit and you moan. Really loudly, really sexually, and it's salacious enough that has him wondering how good he's doing just for you. When you nod vigorously, Koby takes it as a sign to repeat it again and again, with his fingers still pushing themselves into you but deeper than before.

He's so lost into you. Koby believes that he can probably do this to you everyday because you're just so amazing. Without even noticing it, he grinds down on your bed. He lets friction do its thing with his clothed dick and rocks himself back and forth in your sheets. He ruins himself the more he thinks about you, and when you moan his name desperately—"Koby, Koby, ugh, please"—he cums hard in his pants, so hard that he's whining and clawing at your body like crazy.

You finish on his tongue a few moments later, but you ride out your high until you're breathing normally. Koby does so, too, with his hips coming to a stop on the sheets. You look down at him. When he moves, he winces at the disgusting wetness in his pants, but he's too filled with pleasure to even care.

He falls on his side. He no longer has the energy to lift himself up or do anything else, so when you crawl next to him, all he does is look at you with hooded eyes. You're still naked, your nipples perked up and your pussy dripping with his spit, and it does look like you want to do more, but your gaze softens at him and he melts.

Unexpectedly, you rake your hands through his hair, kind of like a soft apology for tugging on them too much, and kiss him. You taste yourself in his lips, but you don't care. Your love overpowers whatever disgust you have for the mix of fluids on your tongues, because in that moment, in the quiet seconds you both spend just panting aloud, Koby is all you see and all you care about.

"Thank you," he hears you mumble in his ear, "I enjoyed that."

And suddenly, he's blushing again. Koby is too tired to find out whether or not he said "you're welcome" or "I love you", but whichever it is, you respond to it with a cute kissable smile that doesn't leave your face until you're pulling him into the bathroom to get changed.

Koby spends ten sleepy minutes in the bathroom before dressing himself and flopping on your bed.

He tries his hardest to stay awake, but before he knows it, he falls asleep quickly.

The next day, Koby is sitting on your couch. He's on his phone, watching a series of Instagram Reels that he can't seem to put down, while you're making breakfast for two.

When he woke up that morning, he decided he would cook for you because he felt bad for dozing off while you showered. To his dismay, you woke up the moment he did and got to your kitchen first. After fighting over the pan for three solid minutes, Koby gave up and let you do your thing.

And because you're doing your thing, you don't want to be disturbed. With that, Koby scrolls through Instagram, observing you from his peripheral vision and only looking up when he gets bored.

You serve him breakfast some time later. When you call him, Koby tucks his phone in his back pocket and rounds your island to pick a fork from the drawer. You cooked him an easy meal, something he can finish to keep himself full during this slow morning. And because he's thankful, he plants a soft kiss on your forehead.

"How romantic," you tease. You drop the spatula on the counter and charge at him with a kiss, but he gasps. Dramatically.

"Oh?" You back away. "Did I just hear some gasping?"

"No," he denies quickly. But there it goes again, only this time it's much louder and... sexual. Very sexual. "Um... I don't know why I did— shit."

Your eyebrows raise. "Koby."

"I can explain— fuck."

All of a sudden, his lower body feels weak. His knees shake and buckle. Koby leans forward on the counter with one hand across his stomach to support himself, and when a wave of emotions course through his body again, his head falls forward.

You place a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes his eyes close. Whatever he's feeling, it's strange. It's weird. But he doesn't want it to stop, because whatever is making him feel that way, feels undeniably good.

When he opens his eyes, that's when he realizes... he wasn't awake the entire time.

He'd been dreaming it all.

And he knows he was dreaming because all of a sudden, you're giggling softly.

This time, you're not in your kitchen. You're not in his dream. But you're in real life.

Koby looks around the room. When he feels some weight on his legs, he looks down, and to his surprise, you're on your knees before him. You're straddling his legs and your back is arched sensually as your head is tilted to the side. When he looks past you, he realizes that you're in nothing but a shirt, your bare ass out in the open for him to see.

And your mouth... well, to put it simply, your mouth is on him. On his dick. On his painfully hard dick that you managed to pull out of his pants while he was comfortably asleep. And as you slick him up with your wet tongue, your hand plays with him in a teasing manner, one that drives Koby crazy.

You're giving him head. But Koby doesn't register it in his mind because he doesn't believe that this is real life, and what is more realistic to him is the dream he just had, where you cooked him a loving meal before he started moaning for no fucking reason. Even when he shakes himself awake and adjusts his eyes to the morning light filtering through the curtains, he doesn't believe it.

So through his shock he asks, "W-what— what are you doing?"

You flatten your tongue on his dick. He groans softly. When he reacts, you decide to run your tongue up his shaft before responding, "Giving you head." He doesn't blink, doesn't even move. But you pump him a few times and you have him wrapped around your finger. "Do you like it like that?"

"I-I— ngh." Koby decides that he's in hell's paradise because his temptations are getting the best of him. He wants to grab onto something, maybe your shoulders or your head, but he's rethinking his decisions. You giggle. No, this can't be real. "Is this real?"

"Very much so, baby," you say, and as if to prove a point, you take his tip in between your lips. Koby whimpers. Blood rushes to his dick, he feels himself stiffen, and he closes his eyes shut because damn, your mouth feels good.

"How long have you been awake for?" he asks.

"Just a few minutes ago. I know you were dreaming of me." Koby blushes. That confirms it. "You were hard in your sleep."

"Y-yeah, I was," he confesses, "but I didn't—hah, shit—I didn't know you wake up early like this."

You giggle. "I mean"—you take his cock in for a few seconds before releasing him—"you were more exhausted than I was last night."

He nods weakly. Right. Last night. Last night when he first fucked you with his fingers for the first time before falling asleep like a baby. He should be ashamed for being more tired than you were, but his heart was about to leap out of his chest and he was too overwhelmed then. "O-kay."

"I figured I should give you a real orgasm to pay you back. And, you know, take care of you during a hard morning," you say with a grin on your lips. Koby watches you devilishly hit your face with his dick like the videos he's watched and imagined you two mimicking. His head falls back on the pillow. "Will you let me do that now, baby?"

As expected, he weakly nods and lets you. Koby relaxes his body on your bed, leaving his sleepy mind to deal with you and see where it goes from there. With his approval, you pull off his shorts before taking him in again. This time, you go deeper, allowing him to sink in your throat until you've taken all of him. Koby watches you through heavy eyelids, and when you bob your head up and down, he whines.

On the other hand, you're thrilled. Waking your boyfriend up like this was something you had been planning since you caught him in the middle of a wet dream. You knew that Koby wouldn't wake even if you slid on top of him because he was evidently tired from last night, so you did just that, undressing him with your teeth and pumping him in your fist as soon as you see his cock poking through his pants.

As you work on his dick, you find out that he likes to be stroked and played with. You start with his balls, just fondling them with your hands. He rocks his hips into you until he creates a rhythm that he loves. Holding him again, you watch him fuck himself in your hand, just sliding between your fist like he belongs there, and when your mouth drools salaciously, you suck on his tip to lick the drops of pre-cum that leak out of him.

He's leaking too much by the time you move your head at a faster pace. Koby's eyes shut close in response to the ecstasy, and when he's being too loud, he brings an arm to cover his face. He can feel himself getting close, evident by his tensed muscles under his shirt, but he tries not to cum because he doesn't want your mouth off of him just yet—this is the best his cock had ever felt, and your mouth is far more effective than his hand. He doesn't want you gone there. He wants you on him forever.

But before he cums, you stop. Koby loses the string of dirty memories and his muscles loosen at the snap of a finger. He whines beautifully in your ear and raises his hips instinctively toward your mouth again, but you throw an unopened condom packet on his stomach.

"I want you to cum in me," you say as you shift around the bed, crawling seductively up his torso. Koby is alarmed by your request, but he picks up the condom, tears it quickly, and decides that, yeah, he can most certainly cum inside you... as long as you account for protection, of course. Which technically means that he won't be finishing raw, but he guesses you like that dirty talk, like to pretend that it's real until he can actually cum inside you one day.

Koby reaches for his cock with the open condom packet in the other hand, but he feels jittery all of a sudden. He's about to lose his virginity after a night of fingering you for the first time. That's fucking amazing, if he says so himself. But he doesn't like where this is going because he woke up just six minutes ago and he hasn't done anything to you yet. Something needs to be done.

"I want to... I want to eat you out," he suggests nervously, which is fair for a guy who hasn't done it before. You rake your fingers through your hair as if to think. When you fall to his side, Koby gets his go signal.

"Come eat me out then," you challenge, spreading your legs the same way you did last night. You feel a slight ache from your sore muscles, but they're anything but displeasure.

Anxiously, Koby slithers in between your legs and places his hands on the back of your knees. Just like last night, you're wet, if not wetter than before. Koby glances at you, and when he sees your smile of approval, he dives into your pussy like a man starved, licking you up desperately and tasting you through your pulsing hole.

His clothes are off the next moment. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he brings his fingers to your legs. He pulls back, kisses the inside of your thighs, then uses his fingers to knead you in a circular motion. He pumps one finger, two fingers, and when you ooze for him, he licks you clean.

Koby has his way with you until his cock is hard and red again and practically begging for release. But he contains it, doesn't want to ruin the moment, because he's more concerned about making you feel good. He continues with his ministrations on your pussy until your legs begin to quiver around him, and when you're shrieking from the wave of pleasure, Koby pulls back to watch you make a mess on the bed.

Your wetness drips from the hole where his fingers were just in, but you recover quickly. You crawl toward Koby, pump him a few times, and watch him leak.

"You're hard again," you point out. Koby watches your hand on him and tries not to cum right then and there.

"Yeah— um, I-I kinda want to... you know."

"Fuck me already?" you finish with a giggle. He sighs.

"Yes," he agrees obediently. "I want to fuck you."

"Mm-hmm. Me too." Still holding onto him, you reach for the abandoned condom on the bed. You unravel the rubber and roll it down his dick, not before swiping the opportunity to throat him down beforehand. "You ready?"

Koby pats your head comfortingly. "If you are."

As you fall back on the bed, you pull Koby with you. He's hovering on top of you with one hand on his dick and the other to support himself. He brings his dick to your legs, realizes that he's about to actually fuck you, and gulps hard before pushing himself in.

He shakes. You encircle his neck. "It's okay, baby, just put in," you encourage, which drives him to push himself in you deeper, although slowly like he's afraid of hurting you.

He's deep inside you before you know it, taking deep breaths because you're wet and tight around him and he doesn't know how to properly act. But Koby decides to wait for you to adjust before he thrusts himself inside and out, from which he gradually picks up the pace until it's enjoyable.

Eventually, he feels the need to cum again. His head falls forward and he presses his body against yours. Your legs envelop his waist. His hands come up to your hair and gives it a nice gentle tug with every thrust that excites him, then when he can't handle it anymore, he laces his fingers with yours. You feel your stomach knot, but in the attempt to delay it, you clash your lips with Koby's and whine into his drooling mouth.

He slows down, but he rocks his hips into you, which you meet with your own thrusts. You hum at the sound of skin on skin and let your free hand grip his bicep. When he pulls away, you turn on your side and raise one leg for him, which he gladly keeps in the air as he continues thrusting with more access.

Koby keeps his hands busy while he fucks himself inside you. He leans forward so that you're basically splitting, and with heavy breaths, he fondles your tits. He squeezes them when he hits a spot, but strokes them to your liking otherwise. Your hands grip his as he does so, like you're guiding him while he plays with you, and direct him to your sensitive nipples.

Soon enough, he's lapping on your breasts and sucking your nipples dry. Moaning into your hand, you grind down on his dick until the pressure builds at the pit of your stomach. You claw at Koby's chest to chase your orgasm, but he does the unthinkable and flips you on your hands and knees, and continues to piston into you from behind.

He pulls your hair from the back, earning a sensitive, "oh— ohhh, Koby—" that riles him up more than ever. When he hears you mewl his name far too many times, he knows that you—and he—are about to snap, which doesn't take long because he's hitting your g-spot so good.

He milks himself dry inside you moments later, his eyes shutting close as he cums harder than ever before. You follow him soon afterward, your ass meeting his slowed thrusts, until your breathing calms and you fall to the bed in front of you.

Looking over your shoulder, you observe your boyfriend intently. He's tired, his whole face is flushed, and he's shaking if you look close enough. You prop yourself up on weak hands just as he ties off the condom. He shoots it in the trash can by your desk and meets you at the edge of your bed.

"Hm?" he mumbles. You smirk.

"Sleepyhead." He pouts.

Collapsing on the space beside you, he says, "That was tiring, okay?"

You lean against him. "I know, but you made it fun for something considered as your first. Thank you."

Koby melts when you snuggle beside him and place your head right where his heart beats. You poke fun at him a little more after that, bringing up his cute whines and dirty wet dreams, before you spend some minutes in comfortable silence.

Koby is going to need at least a week to process everything that happened this morning, but he doesn't mind it. As long as it's you that he's thinking of, he wouldn't have any complaints at all.

-

OKAY THAT'S THE END OF IT!! i have yet to proofread a second time but i'm very glad that this is done because i have 30 other drafts waiting to be finished and i can officially say that i contributed to the koby fandom with pure fucking filth :D

will i be writing a part 3? most likely not because i have no ideas left and the conflict (virgin sexless koby) has been "solved" T-T but anyway thanks again to @mibso for the partial idea (which you can read here) and for drawing that koby fanart that drove me crazy. very sorry as well that this turned out to be 11,000 words long, i have no excuse for that other than being horny. so yeah. my bad

[namism]

Zoro x reader, nsfw

Where Zoro notices reader zones out a lot, and when asked, reader says the most downbad stuff that has even him blushing.

Zoro: what's wrong with you?

Reader: Oh nothing, just wondering what it'd be like to be pressed through the mattress.

Zoro: 👁👁

Reader: oh....I said that out loud, didn't I?

pay attention (1) | roronoa zoro

➳ categories: canonverse, female reader from the heart pirates

➳ warnings: nsfw (top zoro, bottom reader, afab reader)

➳ word count: 3.6k

➳ summary: Zoro often catches you staring into nothingness the moment the Straw Hats allied with the Heart Pirates, but lately he realizes that you've been zoning out as you look at him. Eyes trained, dumbfounded. What could be the reason behind your constant staring, if not a silent request for something in particular?

➳ notes: you absolutely COOKED with this request. anyway, the exposition is rather long and the zoning out part was kinda exaggerated, but the good news is that i have plans on writing part 2. here's to my first full-length one piece nsfw fic 🥂

➳ cross-posted on ao3

"Oi. What are you looking at?"

A man's voice echoes from a distance, lower-pitched with a distinct timbre that sounds a bit familiar. He repeats the question, but it registers remotely in your brain as you keep your eyes trained on the dirt and moss on the ground.

"Strange," he mutters to himself as he watches you sit still on the forest floor, cross-legged and unresponsive to his question. Even as he stands in front of you, he can't seem to elicit a response.

"Zoro, you got lost again! Come back here!"

Zoro looks toward the direction where he came from. He grumbles to himself upon seeing Usopp running at top speed. "I did not get lost!"

"Explain why you ran into the— oh, is that (Y/N)?"

Usopp slows down in his tracks as he nears the both of you. With your head down on the ground, he suspects that something is wrong.

"Is she okay?"

Zoro shrugs. He tells Usopp that you've been sitting alone in the forest for the past 10 minutes, and that he just so happened to see you in the middle of a stroll. Usopp called bullshit, knowing damn well that Zoro wandered off on his own and got lost in the forest, but all jokes aside, he figured that they should lend you a hand and take you back to base, else your Captain gets mad at their discourtesy. Usopp snaps his fingers in front of you, waving a hand after the other to catch your attention, but you remain quiet.

When Zoro picks you up, however, that's when you respond in panic.

"Ahhh!" you scream as you're lifted into the air, Zoro's muscled arms supporting the back of your knees and neck as he holds your body. You stiffen in his arms, realizing the events that just unfolded. "What's happening?!"

"Idiot. You were sulking in the forest, long face and everything." Zoro clicks his tongue as he shakes his head in the process. You slap your cheeks with your two hands, mortified.

"Well, put me down!" You wiggle your feet in protest as the embarrassment sinks in. Zoro is alarmed by your antics, causing him to put you back on the ground. When you regain your balance, you run out of the forest and leave the man and his crewmate alone.

Usopp sighs at the turn of events and suggests that they return to the base where the alliance has gathered. As Zoro follows him from behind, he wonders to himself what you were doing, what trance you had just put yourself into, and why you decided to space out in the middle of a forest, out of all places.

The moment the Straw Hats met the rest of the Heart Pirates in Wano, Zoro realized that you zone out a lot for reasons that he couldn't (and still can't) explain. Always withdrawn from the crowd, seated at the back of gatherings unless you were needed, he noticed that you had a strange habit of spacing out regardless of where you were. He initially assumed you just had a lot in your mind, so he never bothered to find out what made you stare into nothingness as often as you did (since it wasn't even his business to begin with). However, he still questions it from time to time, therefore making him more observant of your peculiar behavior.

A few days later, Zoro can't believe his eyes when he encounters you zoning out for the nth time that month. You sit alone at the foot of a cottage, the outer garment of your kimono falling down the front steps gracefully. As you look into the distance, Zoro wonders why, out of all things you could stare at in this abandoned village that the alliance calls their base, you choose to gape at his laidback form under the awning of a rundown shed.

With narrowed eyes, he looks back at you with a firm stare, yet you show no sign of response or discomfort. That's his cue to think. You're spacing out again, and of that, he's certain, but Zoro still has no clue what's gotten into you and what exactly is running through that little brain of yours. Are you thinking of the alliance's plans? No, he saw you listening to Kin'emon's instructions earlier (and he's surprised that he knows that, because why did he bother observing you outside of your strange encounters?). Are you thinking of your crew? No, you couldn't be, because Captain Law is handling things on his own, and the situation is assumed to be under control. Are you thinking of your friends and their safety? Possibly, but Zoro can't imagine you looking this stupefied if you are concerned for your friends.

Your expression tells a lot but so little at the same time. Your tilted head, your wide eyes and blown irises, your mouth slightly agape, your fallen shoulders—Zoro can deduce a bountiful of scenarios that would draw out this expression from you, but each one doesn't seem so right. He can't put a finger on it. Every guess feels confident until it suddenly feels so wrong.

As he lays under the awning with his three swords to his right and his arms folded to support the back of his head, Zoro decides to maintain his staring, a way to evoke a reaction from you. Although you endure, your eyes not leaving his as his don't leave yours. At this point, he wants to find out the cause of your gawking because it's disturbing him more than he expected it to, especially since your subject of focus—or rather, the lack of it—is him.

As his brain runs dry of ideas, he decides to go up to you and ask. But even when he crosses the dirt path that traverses the shed and your cottage, you don't budge.

"Give it up. What's wrong with you, huh?" he asks once he's at the foot of the steps of your cottage, his hands coming to cross over his chest while he confronts you. No response. "Oi! You're worrying the guy. What's troubling you?"

Zoro is surprised when you slowly lift your head and meet his eyes with your blown ones. You mumble something under your breath, but he doesn't hear.

"Huh?" he asks.

"Nothing," you mumble again, but this time a little louder. "Just wondering how it feels to..."

Muttering follows.

"What?" he asks again, annoyed.

You, however, don't notice the annoyance on his face, instead noticing everything but it. Zoro has a handsome face that even annoyance, a disgusted expression, or the scar on his left eye can't erase his objectively good-looking features.

He has a muscular body, bulky, better than the ones you've seen on the different islands that your crew have been to, and you imagine them looking even better without his kimono obstructing the view. You can see a bit of his chest peeking through the garment, an evident scar running from his left shoulder to his right hip. His build surprises you, further sending you into a trance yet again as you focus on the side of his neck.

"Just... just wondering..." you mumble, hypnotized.

Zoro awaits your words.

"Wondering how... how it feels to be pinned down by you on a bed..."

He freezes up.

His face twists into different emotions, but most importantly, it erupts into flames.

"Wha— what the hell did you just say?!"

It's your turn to freeze up. At long last, you snap out of your thoughts and you return to reality. Zoro stands in front of you with raised shoulders and a harsh blush spreading across his cheeks. His eyebrows are downturned, his eyes are narrowed. He grits his teeth and holds back his tongue at your strange remark.

"Oh no..."

Irises quivering, you slowly look to the side, your very own cheeks hot upon realization.

"I... I said that out loud, didn't I?"

"You couldn't have been any quieter!" Zoro sarcastically replies, avoiding your gaze as well. "I can't believe it. Unbelievable. That's what you've been thinking the entire time you were staring at me?"

You cover your face with your hands. "It wasn't!"

"Tsk. Idiot. How about the many other times you weren't paying attention?" he asks. "Was I on your mind in that forest, too?"

"I was with Ikkaku!" you exclaim defensively as you face him. Zoro lifts an eyebrow, doubting the truthfulness of your answer. "We were hunting for ordeal beans to make medicine out of them— hey, what the hell is up with that face? I'm telling the truth!"

"Like I would believe that!" Zoro yells back. You whimper into your hands as he reads through you. Whether or not you were picking out medicinal plants in the forest with Ikkaku, he knows for a fact that you have been thinking of him. To think that you dodged his second question confirms it.

"I'm sorry!" you apologize breathlessly. Standing up, you rush inside the cottage where you hide yourself from Zoro in shame.

"Don't just leave!"

Zoro runs after you and enters the cottage. A one-room building, the space is enough to shelter two people. A dusty counter and a complementary sink take the space on one wall, while a used mattress is positioned across it on the ground. You face the corner wall where your mattress is located in a kneeled position, sobbing to yourself as you quiver in fright.

Zoro leans on the doorway, watching you shake silently.

He thinks to himself deeply.

After a few moments, he sighs and proceeds to remove his swords from the haramaki on his hip, leaving them by the wall next to the door.

"Lay down."

You stop shaking.

"What?" you ask.

Zoro grunts. "Well, if you were curious..."

You look over your shoulder. He stands by the foot of the mattress, his sandals discarded by the front door that is now closed. Is this reality or is this a figment of your imagination?

Your brain betrays you when you feel the aching need at the pit of your stomach. With the front door now closed, it's harder to see the interior, the remaining source of light coming from the setting sun that shines through the spaces of straw and bamboo of the cottage's walls. Even then, you can make out Zoro's figure, the outline of his muscled body coming closer.

You turn around on your knees and crawl toward the edge of the mattress, stopping when you feel the texture of the tatami mat on your fingertips. As you look up, you throb at the sight of the man in front of you.

Zoro clicks his tongue before diving into you, swiftly grabbing both your hands mid-air and trapping you against the mattress as he hovers over your frame. He holds your hands by the side of your head, and leans down closer to your face.

You gasp at the position you're in, your legs spread out under him as his legs hold up his weight on either side of you. Zoro is mere inches away from your face, perhaps trying to see a reaction to gauge whether or not he's doing things right, but all he could tell from your strained expression and glossed eyes is an ambiguous desire for... something else.

He comes even closer, and the need for something more travels from the pit of your stomach to your lower regions. Just a few more inches, and you can finally come close enough to—

"There. You got what you wanted."

Suddenly, Zoro retracts his head and lets go of your hands. He sits on the heels of his feet as he reaches for his sandals and prepares to leave like nothing happened.

Before he could do that, however, you quickly grab the material of his kimono and direct his face toward yours, kissing him.

Zoro freezes for a good second before he tries to kiss back to the best of his abilities. He lets you do whatever in his mouth as he supposes it would dissipate the need in your eyes and satisfy your unusual desires. Unskilled, he follows your lead in a confusingly hungry kiss, something new to him but enough to his liking.

You initiate the rush in your hunger to taste him. You play with the exposed skin on his chest, your hands feeling the muscles you always dreamed of touching. You swipe your hands underneath his kimono and touch him as far as you could reach until you undress his sleeves and let them fall to the side.

Crawling closer, you sit yourself on his thighs and hold yourself up by throwing an arm around his neck. You moan softly when Zoro tugs on your lips, but you push him away at the lack of air.

"Sorry," you mutter. "Too much?"

He shakes his head.

"Whatever."

It's him who initiates next. Zoro places his hands on your back and kisses you with the same intensity, if not more. As you feel the muscles of his chest, you decide to pry his other hand away from the small of your back and guide it to the front of your kimono.

You pull away momentarily.

"Feel me... right here."

You lead his hand to the small opening of your garment. Zoro slips his hand and feels your breasts. He runs his calloused fingers across them, feeling the curve of each one and pressing down on the mounds to fondle them better. You moan in his mouth when he swipes a finger across your nipple, followed by a sigh of relief as he tugs and plays on it between his fingers.

You soon untie the ribbon on your kimono and open the garment to reveal your body. Zoro groans at the stretch of exposed skin and allows his hands to wander around. Drawing away from his lips, you pull one side of his garment's knot and open his kimono to uncover the rest of his torso, as well as his hard-on further down.

Amid his hot touches on your tits, you push Zoro down on the mattress with forceful hands on his shoulders, to which he allows without resistance. Straddling him, you place yourself on his abdomen and subtly feel the tip of his hard dick from behind. You fall forward, kissing his lips again hungrily as you grow wetter by the second.

"I want you," you moan in his mouth, "fuck, I want to taste you. Can I?"

Zoro groans when you ask. While unexpected, he isn't opposed to it; if anything, he's glad that you brought it up. He pushes down on your shoulders as a wordless acceptance to your sinful request, and you follow in agreement. You crawl down his large body until you're resting on your heels and leaning forward, face-to-face with his dick.

You cuss at the sight. A guy like Zoro would of course be huge, a fact that isn't surprising to you anymore. You trace his dick with your finger, measuring him with your eyes and figuring out how you want to take him later on. You give into your thoughts eventually, taking his stiff cock in your hand and pressing your lips to his tip.

Feeling him in your mouth sends excitement in your pussy, so you take him in, inch by inch as you hollow your cheeks and do it slowly. Drool slides down the side of his cock the further down you go. When you hit the base of his dick, you rhythmically swirl your tongue back and forth on his underside, earning yourself a soft grunt from his parted lips.

You retract your head, pulling his cock out of your mouth seductively as you breathe out. You take in his tip again and suck on it several times as you look up at Zoro and discern the expression on his face. As he remains quiet, you go deeper on his dick and work your hand on his base, expertly moving up and down in a rhythm that has him moaning lowly. You continue your flow as you bob your head on his first few inches, oftentimes playing with his balls which he's seemingly pleased by, until he places a hand at the back of your head at his arriving release.

Zoro didn't mean to guide you on his dick, but the tightening knot in his gut and balls tells him to direct your head to where he wants you. So he does, his hand holding locks of your hair and maneuvering your head with his cock still inches deep in your mouth. He pulls your lips away from his dick and decides that he wants your tongue on his underside again, holding himself up with one hand and guiding your tongue to the spot with the other. Zoro grunts sharply as soon as you direct your ministrations on the bottom of his dick, where a large vein runs up from the base. Beads of cum spill from his tip until he's spilling entirely that has him groaning aloud, but your hand and tongue don't stop until he's fully done.

You run your lips across his dripping cock and moan at the taste of him, then you climb back up on his body and kiss him. Zoro doesn't mind the cum that glazes your lips, more concerned of feeling you up again as he misses the touch and feel of your tits. He gropes your chest like a man starved while you kiss him hotly.

"Mmm, I wanna ride you," you mutter in between kisses. You don't wait for Zoro's reply as you grip his cock from behind, in the process of stiffening yet again for you, and pump it a couple of times before raising yourself to your knees and sinking onto his dick. Zoro's hands fall to your waist as you do so, liking the wetness and warmth of your pussy on his tip.

"Put it in," he says, and that's your cue to do as told. You sink into him easily, wet slick coating him and slowly feeling the ridges of his cock in your pussy the more of him you take. You love his size, his girth so perfect for you as he gives you that stretch that you like best. Once you take all of him, you ride his cock slowly before finding a nice pace that you can maintain. "Fuck. That feels good."

You ride Zoro until he comes undone by the second, finding joy in hearing his vocal remarks with every bounce on his dick. Eventually you lean forward, your head thrown to the side of his neck as you lazily ride him, exhausted. Zoro takes the liberty of wrapping his arms around your waist before his hands slither down to your ass and play with them, squeezing and slapping like he just did with your tits.

When you tiredly slow down, his stamina fires up and he thrusts upward into your pussy so rapidly that he has you screaming. He continues the lead—your wet pussy so good that he slips out a couple of times, the leftover cum on his dick turning out to be unhelpful.

Once you're spent, Zoro takes the upper hand and flips you on your back. He now towers over you, his hands finding yours and pinning you again on the mattress like he did earlier. You shudder as he exits you, the absence of his dick inside your pussy leaving an empty miserable feeling—but Zoro doesn't plan on leaving you anytime soon as he comes back in quickly, this time with more energized thrusts pulled from his deep desire to fuck you and your pussy until you're completely done.

"Spread your legs wider," he orders hurriedly and you comply before he starts plunging into you deeply with every thrust of his hips. Legs pressed to your chest, he has better access to your little pussy now. He groans at your messy slick dripping on the mattress and at the white creamy cum on his dick that's pushed to his base every time he disappears inside you.

Zoro is turned on by the desperate way you moan his name. His stamina increases, but he grows tired of his pace and repositions himself on top of you eventually. Holding onto your tits, he rams faster into you than before, eliciting another pleasured scream from the back of your throat.

Your hands grip his strong ones that play with your chest. You want to cum, but you hold back a little longer as Zoro pushes himself deeper. You tap his hand with your finger and guide it to your clit, moaning in relief when he hits the right spot.

"Hah— like this? Fuck." He fiddles with your clit before he finds a nice rhythm with his thumb that you seem to enjoy. You nod your head rapidly.

"Yes," you moan, "yes, yes, yes— fuck! Oh my god, Zoro, keep it like that, keep it like that. Please keep it that way—"

Zoro listens to your pleas and maintains his pace on your clit. You snap a few moments later, coming undone with shaky legs as you cry out his name. Zoro keeps himself steady until he's cumming himself, pulling out and spilling on your belly with low delicious grunts.

As he calms down, he pumps himself slowly and watches you clean your painted stomach by eating much of his cum. His dick stirs at your act, but the cloud of lust eventually dissipates and he's looking away from you in shame.

He pulls himself together and reaches for his kimono. You follow, but you spontaneously decide to kiss him first before doing so.

"Thank you," you say softly. He looks at you, finding the right words to say.

"Just ask next time," he mumbles before dressing himself.

[namism]

was in the middle of writing part 2 of that koby fic when i decided to play mudae AND GUESS WHO SHOWED UP

yeah sooo that's my claim message. the koby manifestation is real

also if anyone wants to add me, i'm antimarleyan on discord. i sometimes talk on the r/OnePiece server when my friends ignore my rambles

[namism]

lowkey have a problem of trying to remember who i’ve done a ask/request thus my ass is looking around like a squirrel trying to find that one nut from 2 years ago😓

i chuckled but i feel like you never sent one in unless you did it anonymously (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

[namism]

Hi hi! You know me as @extremely-ashtridic. I just wanted to let you know that I have moved blogs, I would highly appreciate it if you tag the current blog that I am using since the old blog is archived. Also, I'm just informing you since I'm an avid reader of your work.

Sorry to trouble you and have a great day!

omg i know u... ur the one with the pretty blog and ur filo too 😭 got this, thanks for telling me!!

[namism]

just a little update. i received 12 requests in less than 24 hours and idk if i can write that fast 😭 but all the prompts are so good so if you don't mind waiting, i can definitely still work on it 𖦹﹏𖦹;

edit: requests closed!

this sounds crazy cuz i have like 30 drafts but

please request 🙏 i'm accepting the first 2-3 plsplspls

i desperately need to get out of my writing slump and there's no better way to do that than to be pressured by people expecting you to finish their request lol

p.s. some of the requests i've received the past month are in my drafts!! they're in progress, don't worry!

[namism]

accomplices (1) | sabo

➳ categories: canonverse, female afab reader, fake-out make-out trope, pre-dressrosa arc ➳ warnings: nsfw (making out) ➳ word count: 1.3k

➳ summary: The best way out of a dangerous scenario is to fake-pretend a make-out session to disturb the enemy. When you're cornered with the chief of the Revolutionary Army, you put that theory to the test.

➳ cross-posted on ao3

You don't know how you got yourself into this situation, but it wasn't ideal by any means.

"Chief-of-Staff, Sabo. I'm from the Revolutionary Army."

"You are Sabo? From the Revs?"

A group of voices echo from the end of the hallway. Almost immediately, you and Sabo skitter up a flight of stairs to lose track of them, eventually finding refuge in the first room your eyes land on.

With your back to the door, you heave a sigh of relief. Sabo traces the wall to find the light switch. When the room fills with light, you take a proper look at him.

"I know who you are," you say. "I've always wanted to meet the Revolutionary Army."

Blond hair, round eyes, and a black hat. With clothes fitting him loosely and a visible scar spanning the left side of his face, there's no mistaking it.

You tell him your name.

"I'm from the local guerilla. What brings you here?"

"Perhaps with similar intentions. We're here to interrupt a weapons trade," he explains. Your kingdom is a major transport route for a shady underground business, but no one has ever cracked the root of the problem. Some say the weapons they vend lead to an island in the New World, but you have yet to figure it out—as far as you're concerned, the trade has to end.

Suddenly, the door behind you shakes.

"Who locked the fucking conference room?"

The next thing you hear is the tinkling of metal keys. Eyes wide with fear, you watch the doorknob rattle with bated breath. Sabo looks around hurriedly and points to his left.

"In there!"

You follow him to the far end of the room, where a wooden door stands ajar. Sabo pushes it open and lets you slip inside before sneaking in and locking it with haste.

Pressing your ear to the door, you listen to the voices that filter from the outside.

"God forbid those revolutionaries lay a finger on the Big Boss."

It's an excruciatingly long conversation. You learn many things that you aren't supposed to, leads that you wouldn't have known if you didn't trap yourself in enemy territory. Apparently, the local syndicate had intel on the Revolutionary Army's arrival and were planning an escape route the day prior, but an informant from the Dressrosa Kingdom apprised them to stay still. And because of that, you're here.

"What's that noise?"

And because you're here, you're about to be discovered.

"Somebody else is in this room."

"They've figured us out," Sabo states the obvious in a volume not above a whisper. Your breath catches in your throat. Fuck. Were your thoughts so loud that you gave your hiding spot away? How do you escape?

You have locked yourselves in a small windowless room. There's a chair, a desk, and some file cabinets that line the back wall. Sabo is equally muddled beside you, and you notice him drumming his fingers anxiously on his side. You assume he's figured out the issue—the space is too small to use your powers, too small to hide yourselves.

Breath ragged, an idea crosses your mind.

"How old are you?"

He blinks.

"Twenty-two."

With that, Sabo watches your hands fly up to your hair, tossing your locks all over until they're messy. Strange, he thinks, but it only gets stranger as you finger the top buttons of your blouse, popping the first few open to reveal just enough skin. A little more and it would reveal your cleavage, and it's an observation that drives his perverted little brain mad.

"You got a girlfriend?" you ask soon afterward, and, uh, yeah, Sabo is definitely a pervert, and he's definitely mad. You slip your fingers in between the thin threads of your corset, tugging the top strings loose but not too loose, allowing your chest to breathe within the confinements of the garment. He's speechless. "Sabo. Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I'm single," he answers abruptly, then watches you hitch your skirt past your thighs. He stirs.

Shaking his head, he presses his ear back to the door.

"The file room. Did you lock the file room?"

"We should plan an attack while we still can," he whispers. He peers down at you, but he sees your cleavage peeking past your unbuttoned top, and at that moment, his cheeks burn bright red. "What are you doing?"

"Our options are limited," you hiss. "We're trapped. Undo your buttons and stay still."

"Stay sti— what?" You stand on your tip toes and reach for his hair. Sabo is confused, but he leans forward, presses his body close to yours, and allows you to make a mess of his blond head under his hat. When you pull back, your hands fly to his shirt, unbuttoning the top buttons before encircling his neck with your arms. He stirs again. And just like that, he understands.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but he doesn't stop you. He gets it. He understands now.

Sabo doesn't read a lot, but from the few books he'd come across in his life—those romance novels that somehow made their way to the RA's library—he'd learned one thing or two about espionage. He'd also learned about sex and how you can use it to get away with just about anything on a spy mission. And even though he can't do that with you here, he knows exactly how you intend on escaping.

And quite honestly, he supports the idea.

"Come closer," he says, but he doesn't give you a chance because he pulls you into him before you can move. As you melt into his body, Sabo dips his head low and kisses you, tilting his head for extra effect while you play with the back of his shirt. He sighs into your lips.

Fuck.

He really supports the idea.

"If we're doing this, I can move you like this."

Sabo repositions you so quickly that it knocks the wind out of you. You're on top of the desk before you know it, your weight supported by his grip as he practically leans into you and situates himself in between your legs. He kisses you with intent, his lips in full control over yours with every breathless moment overflowing with enthusiasm. Even then, you let him. You allow much of the attention on your lips as you straighten your thoughts, plotting the perfect course of action to escape your enclosure once the door is opened and the enemy deeply disturbed.

But Sabo is too good at what he does. His skin burns hot as he maneuvers even closer to get the most out of the pressing situation. He's a good kisser, somehow reminiscent of the best ones you've had, but he outshines all the others by far.

Tracing his collar, your hands find their way to his unbuttoned top, where they slip underneath the fabric to locate his collarbones. But suddenly, the door shakes again. While it startles you, Sabo kisses you harder and needier than need be. You're nearly breathless.

Your hands fly to his biceps. "Sa"—you moan in between a kiss—"Sabo."

His fingers glide across your waist. "Hm?"

"Give me some space to move," you mutter. "I have a plan. For later."

As he shuffles out between your legs, his lips fly to your jaw. He nibbles at your skin and moves his hands farther up your blouse, eventually restraining himself when he's gone far up your corset. The door shakes another time. Hurriedly, you scoot off the edge of the table and wait with bated breath.

When the door opens, light instantly floods the room. You bury your face into Sabo's shoulder, shielding your faces with his hat. Gasps erupt from the conference room as they witness your scandalous display, but you take advantage of their surprise and hop into action.

You jump off the table and launch yourself back into the main room, using your Haki to force yourself past the men that stand before you. Sabo follows suit, but not before he fixes himself bashfully. With hot skin and a flushed face, he races into battle and does what has to be done.

He doesn't take his eyes off you for the rest of the day.

[namism]

he's been plotting on you for months (eustass kid)

➳ warnings: cheating, kid is toxic, everything is toxic nsfw (afab reader, photos with consent), dead dove: do not eat

In the many years you've known Eustass Kid, you've come to the conclusion that he's persistent. And through his persistence, whether for the fun of irking you to the core or gaining intel on your relationship with Trafalgar Law, he's learned how easy it is to rile you up.

That's why he's been at it in your DM's since this morning. It started with a simple greeting, which you ignored, but then came another message, and another, and another. Kid hadn't told you what he was annoying you for, but when it got to a point, your fingers betrayed your brain as you hastily sent a response, a cold question of "What the fuck do you want?" which he, ever so predictably, replied to in the speed of light.

That led to your conversation now, as well as the dilemma that befalls you: in the many years you've known Kid, apart from his stubbornness that comes in a package deal with his persistence, you've come to the conclusion that he's into you and possibly even more than that. Kid never kept it a secret that he'd been plotting on you for months on end. In fact, his intentions had always been clear, his objectives as loud as the thumping in your chest whenever he tries anything remotely flirtatious.

He gets in your nerves. That's for sure. And he drives you crazy, which is even truer. The initial consensus with your heart, brain, and conscience was to ghost Kid until he completely fucks off because he isn't (and will never be) good for you, but you eventually find out that he's kinda cool: you know that he likes metal. You know that he's in a band. He has a chick in his arms every two business days and he can pop a bottle of beer open with his teeth. But on the flip side, he has a childish attraction for pirates and was named after a Scottish privateer. He eats homemade cabbage rolls and unexpectedly maintains a healthy diet. Also, his favorite flowers are tulips. Red ones, like his hair.

None of that erases the fact that Kid was and had always been annoying, but none of it is false either. Kid has much more personality than anybody else you've met. Unfortunately, he's just fucking cocky. And he's smitten enough to flash his dick if you ask for it.

Agreeing is your first mistake. Your relationship with Law as of late is in turmoil as a result of a disagreement with his priorities—between you and his job, it seems he has a favorite, so you've spent the last few weeks eating a soulless dinner alone. You don't live together, but Law has always made time to drop by on the way home from the hospital to accompany you eat. Now, everything seems like a fever dream.

Your relationship is almost over. You feel its end at your fingertips. And it's for sure over once Kid sends a bunch of photos with his dick out—huge, trimmed, eight but almost nine inches long—and you feel your mouth water. Your pussy is in a similar state. You squirm in your panties. Your relationship is over.

You spend the next few minutes ogling at Kid on your phone. He was generous tonight, having sent you more than one to ogle at and play your pussy with. But then again, he's always been generous with you. He gives what you ask for. He's always had his eyes on you, always, unlike Law.

A tall man like Kid is expected to have a huge dick, and he does. He's pink and hard in all his photos, his dick slapped against his stomach over a happy trail that leads to a chiseled chest. He's in front of a wall-mounted mirror in one, then laid back on his bed in the other. He's hot. He's always been hot, but your heart was with Law the entire time. As big as Law was, you have to admit that Kid was even bigger, and suddenly, you wonder how it feels to sit on his cock. To ride him. To let him make a mess of your pussy. You wonder how often he fucks other women in his bed and the chances that you would be the next, but when you slip your fingers into your pussy and touch yourself to the thought of him, you have your answer. You will be the next. You will be.

[namism]

was writing an ace fic and the entire time i was thinking about his stupid blonde brother...... 💔

[namism]

if you're still accepting requests can I request something cute and fluffy with ace? in an au where he doesn't die?

fire fist (without fire) | portgas d. ace

➳ categories: he survives au, gender neutral whitebeard pirates reader, implied mutual feelings, fluff ➳ word count: 1.8k

➳ summary: While aboard the Whitebeard Pirates' ship, you become the victim of a traditional pirate game with a strange punishment. (Un)fortunately, Ace is weirdly into it. Alternatively, you lose a pirate game and you're punished to dress like Ace.

➳ notes: the idea behind this was so random, i'm sorry lol 😭 ➳ cross-posted on ao3

Pirates are the most loyal people you've met.

Even before you became one yourself, you've witnessed their allegiance to their crew captain and their practices. Pirates visited your town often in the North Blue, so you were well-exposed to their way of life. Now that you're one yourself, not to mention aboard the crew of an Emperor, you believe you embody that trait just as well as your crewmates do.

Part of a pirate's loyalty is tested during Davy Back Fights, but it's also tested by other games on deck. For the Whitebeard Pirates, an Emperor crew comprising of middle-aged men who bet and gamble for Berries and booze, a game is a serious game, and losers have to pay for it.

You don't join these games yourself as you often find them too extreme, but the air is different on the day that you finally do. The upper deck whistles at your arrival, the atmosphere shifting immediately as you toss a coin into the ocean. You cross your arms over your chest.

"Almost thought you weren't gonna join."

Looking to your right, you see Ace grinning from ear to ear. With a bite on your inner lip, you stop your pride from influencing your actions. Instead of flirting back like you always do, you smirk at him.

"Air felt different today."

He chuckles. The pit of your stomach rumbles low. Ace doesn't say anything but reciprocates your smirk with a knowing tight-lipped smile. When he averts his gaze, your stomach flips.

In all honesty, you joined the game just for him. Ace was locked up in Impel Down not more than a month ago, but he was rescued in time for his public execution at Marineford. It's been weeks since then but you've been going everywhere he goes, like you're glued at the hip.

Ace is aware of this, but he's unbothered. He lets you be because he's loving it, enjoying every second you're with him because you're such a cute worrywart.

"Everybody tossed their coins in?"

Ace looks back at you, his eyebrows wiggling. "You sure you tossed yours?"

You stick your tongue out at him. It's tradition to toss a coin into the ocean before any pirate game in honor of Davy Jones and the vast sea that is his locker. It's a reminder of some sort that he possesses the soul of any of those that result to treachery and deceit during any of the games played in his honor. Lucky for you, you don't plan on cheating. And you don't plan on pulling out of the competition either.

"I'm not taking it back," you tell Ace.

He nods, that dumb smirk still on his face. "Alright. Was just checking."

"Everyone, listen up!"

The inauguration is followed by a rehearsal of the rules. Today's game is quite popular, one that you've watched the crew play a few times in the past. "Fusion" begins with the launch of glass spherical projectiles across the ocean, with each one containing regions of dust and gas within them. Eventually, the spheres collapse and release heat, producing great energy in the form of an explosion. All players must prevent each sphere from hitting the ocean by dealing it with their powers, save for a few restrictions on certain Devil Fruits.

Ace smiles widely. He's played this game before and has won twice against Marco. Elbowing you, he says, "Good luck down there."

You're elated by his wishes, but you don't give him that satisfaction. Instead, you roll your eyes.

"I don't need it."

You did, in fact, need it.

"This is ridiculous!"

Ten minutes later, all players have reconvened at the Moby Dick, panting and sweating buckets. The match lasted shorter than expected, with Ace placing first, Marco placing second, and you... placing last.

"I want a rematch!" you protest, shooting a pointer finger toward Ace. "Ace, you— you cheater!"

The man in question shrugs. He's currently seated on the floor with a cup of sake in one hand and a chunk of meat in between his incisors. Ace looks at you half-asleep and registers what you just said before he bursts out laughing.

"I whacked those fusions like flies," he brags. "I went like this, then like this, then like that! And might I remind you that I didn't use all of my powers."

You grumble. "You used 'hiken' to explode my sphere before I dealt with it!"

He snorts. "Hey, cheating is a crime that I don't do. I simply just got to the sphere before you did."

You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out.

"Besides, you wouldn't have caught up either way," he says. He points at the wooden scoreboard behind him, where your name sits beside a big sad number "11" at the bottom. Haruta is placed just above you with 12 successful targets. "So, when are you getting dressed for the punishment?"

You huff through a pout. Besides the fact that you just disappointed everybody who placed their bets on you, you're also forced to face the consequences of your loss as you swore to it by the sea. Ace grins mischievously. There's no backing out.

With that, you walk to your quarters dejectedly, your shoulders sagging and your pout staying prominently on your face. Everyone disperses from the upper deck after a short celebration in the victors' names. Ace comes running after you once done.

"So, you're gonna need my hat, right?"

You don't know what the crew was drunk on when they decided to choose the punishment, but you just wished they weren't acting like teenage girls when they decided on this. Before the game started, it was an unanimous decision to punish the loser by dressing them in the victor's clothing. You believe they went easy on the consequences after learning that you were playing against them, but you have a problem. For the victor to be Ace, out of all people, it's just—

"Ridiculous!" you protest again. "It's just ridiculous!"

Ace laughs with his arms crossed over his chest. He's leaning at your door as he watches you ransack your closet for any clothes that match his.

"You know, we could just swing by my room and get changed there," he suggests flirtatiously.

"Don't even try."

"It's kinda hard not to when you're so flustered around me." As if to prove a point, he approaches you and leans on the other door of your wardrobe. He watches you ignore him, still searching for clothes in your disorganized closet. "Hey, look at me."

"No." You scrunch your nose. Suddenly, you groan. "Ughhh. I can't find that white tank top I bought a few islands ago. What am I supposed to wear?"

"I don't wear a shirt."

"But I do." Finally, you look at him. You examine him up and down.

"Are you checking me out?"

"I'm observing you."

"That's basically the same phrase, but for cowards."

"Ace."

"Okay, okay."

Eventually, you find the said tank top you purchased a few days ago and visit Ace's quarters to get changed. You match your outfit with his extra pair of hiking shorts and gear, then get him to put his hat on your head.

"You're kinda cute dressed like that, with my hat on and everything."

Your stomach turns again.

"Shut up."

You return to the deck not long after that, where live music has begun playing and Thatch has started the outdoor grill for a hefty crew dinner. Marco spots you from the other side of the deck and checks you out.

"Looking good tonight," he says. "You might even rock that outfit better than Ace himself."

Beside you, Ace scowls. You giggle. "It's a cool pirate outfit, but I do feel a little exposed."

"Yeah, well, your man is kinda the naturist," he mumbles as he sips on his drink, "but he also learned it from Pops, so I don't judge. Care to show some fire tricks to the crew?"

Marco gestures to the crew behind him, who watch your conversation unfold. Ace steps in.

"I think that would be a good idea, actually," he says through a teasing grin. He tilts his head and looks at you in the eye. "Care to put on a show for us?"

You almost push him to the ground, but everyone on the ship is getting ready for dinner and you don't want to ruin their night. Deciding against your temptations, you sigh.

"Okay, so, do you people actually expect me to just yell out 'HIKEN!' and make a fool out of myself?"

As if on cue, Ace erupts into laughter, his voice overpowering the live music from the deck below. The rest of the crew laugh alongside him, with Marco even chuckling at your reenactment. Heat rushes to your cheeks.

"Okay, okay— phew, sorry for laughing like that," says Ace, but you know he doesn't mean it. If anything, he's enjoying it. He wipes his tears away. "Uh, well, you can try. Do you want my assistance? I can maybe give you some backup effects with, you know, real fire?"

You grumble under your breath. "God, no, I'd like to go to bed tonight with my dignity still intact, thank you very much!"

He laughs. "C'mon now."

You glare at him. Tears well in your eyes. "Ace, please."

That's when he realizes that you're getting really upset. Shifting in his seat, he says, "Okay, wait," then laces his fingers with yours and pulls you closer to him. Ace brings you to the empty front deck and holds your face in his hands. You have a small pout on your face and your eyes are still glossy. You sniff. Stupid Ace. Stupid, stupid Ace.

"I'm sorry," he says gently. Your lips jut out further. "Ah, you're so cute when you're annoyed at me."

Unconvinced by his apology, you look to the side. Ace caresses your cheek. "Hey, I'm sorry. I mean it!" He brings his face closer to yours and blocks your line of sight. You move away. "Still mad? What can I do to make you feel better?"

He brings a caring hand on top of your head and pats your hair gently. Your shoulders relax with every touch. Ace smiles at your reaction.

"Head pats were the answer all along," he says.

"No, actually," you correct. "Something more would be nice."

With that, you're back to showing off your little pout. Ace breaks into a chuckle as his heart flutters momentarily. He's breaking character, but he's experiencing cuteness aggression because you're just so—

"Cute. So cute," he says as he pinches your cheeks, "and so sly. One moment you're accusing me of cheating, then the other you're pouting in front of me and wanting to be comforted."

Your eyebrows furrow. "In my defense, you—"

"Shhh." He presses a finger to your lips. Using his other hand, he fixes his hat on your head and checks you out one more time, admiring your matching clothes. "Let's just enjoy the silence."

So you do, except that you're in Ace's arms, which makes everything even better.