A/N: Portgas D. Ace and his hat, contains N.s.fw. MDNI
Portgas D. Ace who secretly loves it when you steal his hat and taunt him with that sly smirk of yours.
Portgas D. Ace who blushes when the other commander tease him about you having his hat but he’s proud because you’re the one who’s wearing it.
Portgas D. Ace who steals you away from the celebration and back to his cabin.
Portgas D. Ace who loves to see you in his hat when you’re in his lap and you’ve got your knees on either side of his strong thighs.
Portgas D. Ace whose hands are strong and calloused but they’re gentle and warm when he holds your hips and guides you down onto his cock.
Portgas D. Ace who praises you as you ride his cock in his orange cowboy hat and who can’t take his eyes off of you.
Portgas D. Ace who kisses you as he takes over, strong arm wrapping around you as he pulls you closer, your breasts against his chest as he thrusts up into you harder and faster because you’re both so close and he can feel your walls clenching around his cock.
Portgas D. Ace whose breath is sending shivers down your spine as he whispers ‘come on, baby. Let go for me.’
Portgas D. Ace who moans so prettily as you cum on his cock and who smiles against your lips as he releases himself into you.
Portgas D. Ace who holds you close and kisses every inch of skin he can and smiles against your shoulder.
Portgas D. Ace who falls asleep against your shoulder while still inside of you before you can even say anything about how great it was.
Portgas D. Ace who loves it when you wear his hat.
Ace kissed you again before you’d properly caught your breath, one hand braced beside your head while the other dragged you closer by the waist. Heat poured from him even without his devil fruit, trapped between your bodies in the cramped space.
A crate was digging into your shoulder though you really couldn’t find it in your heart to care. His hand slid under your shirt and the warmth pulled a small moan from you before you could stop it.
Ace chuckled and you tugged on his hair in response, drawing a rough sound from his throat.
Two could play at that game.
Although… something felt off.
You pulled back and Ace followed you for a moment before he saw your face. You rolled your tongue around your mouth to find the strange object where it had lodged against your teeth and plucked it out.
A petal?
White with a brush of yellow toward the centre and charred at the edges. You frowned down at it and then looked at Ace with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you eating flowers?”
“Hey, it was in your mouth.”
“So was your tongue which is presumably how it got there.”
Ace squinted at the petal on your finger and then shrugged. “I don’t know where it came from.”
“You’ve been coughing weirdly the whole day. Did you breathe in something you shouldn’t have?”
“No? Maybe it just blew into my mouth.”
“Without you noticing?”
“It’s possible.”
You flicked the strange little thing onto the ground with a shrug. You didn’t think that was possible but stranger things had been true before. And Ace did sleep with his mouth open on deck far more than the average person.
You rejoined your lips to his, the heat of his breath melting away any concerns you’d had.
Temporarily.
A week later, you were lounging on his bed when the problem arrived again.
The first cough was small enough that your hand found his back before you were properly awake, rubbing between his shoulders on instinct. The second came harder and rougher, coupled with a short, gasping breath like he was choking on something.
Ace rarely woke up quickly but his eyes flew open as he struggled to get his breath through the spluttering coughs.
It would be stupid to ask if he was okay and yet in your panic it was the only question that came to mind. You sat up in the bed, rubbing his shoulders as he coughed and gasped. Should you run to Marco? You didn’t know if he’d be awake yet but -
Ace coughed hard and wet petals landed across your legs and the bed. He finally managed a normal breath and rubbed at his chest.
“The hell?”
You picked up one of the petals. Some were burnt but they were all the same colour. White with a brush of yellow toward the centre.
“You’re coughing up more of these?”
Ace pulled a face. “Yeah. Been having it for a few days. I can burn them away though.”
“Clearly not.”
He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his eyes. “I was asleep. Anyway, it’s probably allergies or something.”
“I don’t think allergies cause you to throw up flower petals,” you pointed out.
He shrugged and stretched. “What time is it anyway?”
“Probably close to sunrise,” you said. “Have you spoken to Marco about it?”
“Why?”
“Because healthy people aren’t bringing up flowers and almost choking to death on them,” you pointed out.
You swung your legs from the bed, mourning the loss of comfort for only a second before you held out a hand. Ace stared at you as though you were asking him to jump overboard. You waited.
He sighed and took your hand, allowing you to drag him out of the bed. You didn’t bother changing, just grabbed one of your coats and marched out of the room. Luckily, Marco’s door was only a few steps away and he opened it immediately.
“Yes?”
“Ace thinks allergies are making him cough up flower petals.”
“Hey! I was just saying maybe it was that.”
Marco looked past you toward Ace and sighed. “Let’s go to my office. I can examine him much better there.”
Ace made a complaining sound. “Come on, it’s not that bad. We can talk about it in the morning.”
“It is morning, yoi.”
Marco had already stepped out of his room. His expression was unmoving but you doubted he would insist on an immediate evaluation if it wasn’t serious enough. You wrapped the coat better around yourself and gave Ace a slightly smug look.
He rolled his eyes but his palm stayed warm against your own.
Marco’s office was always chaotic, and for once you were grateful for it. Bottles crowded the shelves, papers had taken over most of the desk and there were enough half-open drawers to keep your eyes occupied while you stood to the side, waiting for an answer as Marco listened to Ace’s lungs.
“Is this why you’ve been coughing so much over the past few days?” he asked.
Ace answered with a small hum. “It hasn’t been that bad. I burn them away when they start getting annoying. I thought maybe somebody had started growing a plant somewhere.”
Marco looked unimpressed. “And all the petals wound up in your lungs?”
“Where else would they come from?”
“Maybe a devil fruit?” you suggested.
“That would make things easier. No, they’re growing in there, yoi,” Marco said. He stepped away from Ace’s back and draped the stethoscope around his neck. “It’s a disease. A rare one but they’re coming from inside of him.”
You raised an eyebrow at Ace. “Didn’t know you’d taken up a hobby in gardening.”
“What? Are they fire-resistant or something?” he complained.
“Probably not but they’re growing consistently enough that not all of them are burning. That’s not a good thing. You incinerating them means it’s progressed more than it should have without anybody noticing.”
“What if I just burn it all away?”
“Burn as many as you like,” Marco said. “They’ll come back.”
You crossed your arms. “So, what’s the cure?”
“Something I should talk to Ace about alone.”
You pressed your lips together, concerned enough to want to stay. You glanced toward Ace who plucked a petal from his mouth and immediately burned it between his fingers.
“Alright,” you relented. “I’ll see you later, Ace.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Sorry about spitting petals all over you.”
“Could have been worse. At least they’re not deadly or anything.”
You didn’t like the expression on Marco’s face when you said that but you didn’t ask for clarification.
You presumed Ace would talk to you about it later in the morning. He didn’t. He was actually surprisingly quiet which did nothing for your anxiety even if he still took the seat next to you and inhaled his breakfast at a somewhat normal rate.
Normal for him. Not for the average person.
“So, about the flowers -”
“Not now.”
You sighed. “Why not?”
“Cause I don’t want everybody to know about it.”
“Is there something wrong with having a weird disease?”
“Kind of.”
You stared at him before deciding not to push it. You shuffled your food around your plate, appetite fading. Could it be deadly? You supposed in a normal person, choking on a petal was not the best way to go but Ace really could just burn away the problem. Even if it kept coming back.
“Stop worrying so much,” he said. “You don’t have it.”
“Could I catch it?”
“Probably not.”
“Probably is not really reassuring.”
He shrugged and tried a half smile that didn’t quite land. “Marco said in a normal person, it’s pretty noticeable even from the start. So, you’d know if you did.”
“What does it look like at the start?”
“Like one petal every few days.”
“How many are you getting a day?”
“Don’t know. Gotta measure today without burning them.”
You glanced toward his mouth on instinct. “How many have you had so far?”
He shifted in his seat and reached for your untouched plate. “A few.”
That… wasn’t reassuring. Contagious or not.
“Are you going to take the day off?”
“No point. It’s going to keep happening,” he said with a shrug. “Might as well get used to it.”
“Didn’t Marco say there was a cure?” you asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then…”
“Not worth the risk,” he muttered around a mouthful.
You weren’t sure you trusted Ace, of all people, saying something wasn’t worth the risk. The man regularly threw himself into danger without a second’s hesitation but now he wanted to act conservative? Were the flowers starting to get into his brain or something?
You shoved the rest of your plate over to him. Maybe you should ask Marco. He probably wouldn’t tell you the details but if anybody was able to convince Ace…
“What happens if you don’t treat it?”
“The flowers will get bigger. But I can burn a few flowers. Stop worrying.”
You lowered your voice. “Ace, this is clearly more serious than you’re telling me. You look like somebody’s sentenced you to an execution.”
“I’m just tired. We woke up stupidly early this morning.”
“I’ve seen you tired. You look worse.”
“Yeah. I have stuff to do today, okay? I can worry about whatever this is later.”
He pushed himself away from the table and walked out of the hall. You weren’t the only one who watched him leave. Half the hall tracked him with their eyes in confusion. Breakfast wasn’t nearly done yet.
You glanced back at your not-empty plate and frowned.
No. You weren’t going to leave it.
Marco shook his head before you even caught up with him on his way across the deck. “Ace’s condition is not for me to talk to you about, yoi.”
“He won’t tell me anything.”
“His choice.”
You hurried to keep pace, sighing. “Come on Marco, you know he’s not talking to me and I’m worried.”
“Naturally. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you about it without his consent.”
“Is it contagious?”
“No.”
“Is it fatal?”
“It can be if it’s not treated. I think Ace benefits from his natural state enough that he should have better odds than most but I don’t know how far it’s progressed.”
“He said the cure is risky.”
“That’s his opinion.”
“You don’t think so?”
Marco stopped and you trotted to a halt next to him, only just realising how fast you’d been walking to try and keep up. He looked at you, incredibly unimpressed though you weren’t sure if it was with you or with the situation in general.
“I’m not going behind his back yet,” he said. “I won’t tell you about it without Ace even present. If you want to know what’s going on, I recommend you speak to him about it.”
“About a potentially deadly disease that he thinks has a risky cure.”
“If he thinks it’s risky, that’s his choice, yoi. But yes, it can be fatal if he ignores it indefinitely.”
“Which he is going to do.”
Marco’s expression told you exactly what you needed to know even if he didn’t say it. Dread curled awfully in your stomach. The sunrays felt suddenly cold against your skin.
“Maybe Pops can help convince him,” you suggested.
“He asked me not to speak to Pops. I’ll only do so if the condition proves to be bad after a few days’ observation.”
“What should I look out for? I’m around him the most.”
“I’ve told him the symptoms. He will let me know.”
“Marco…”
“The best advice I can give you is to try and talk to him. Beyond that, you’re not getting anything from me.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Until he drops dead from stubbornness?”
“I will intervene before that happens.”
You knew Marco was right. That didn’t make it any better when you also knew Ace was coughing up enough flower petals to choke a normal person. And if you pushed too hard, he was more likely to burst into flame than admit anything.
“Is it causing him pain?”
“Most likely. Flowers aren’t supposed to be inside your body. His flames cannot remove the discomfort.”
Great. That made it so much worse. Who else did you have that could talk to him that he wouldn’t have banned Marco from speaking to…
“You know, for two people who claim their relationship is purely casual, you’re very insistent on this.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ace’s thing.”
“Is it?”
“He wanted a casual situation where we stay friends and just… it doesn’t matter. We’re still friends, okay? It’s normal to worry when you’re telling me he might end up dying because he won’t accept a cure.”
Marco stared at you for a fraction too long before he sighed. “Talk to him.”
“He won’t tell me anything.”
“Keep trying, yoi. There’s a reason the two of you get along so well.”
He continued walking and you briefly considered following him before you turned on your heel. Fine. If that’s what you were working with, that’s what you’d work with. You could get Ace to explain it.
Probably.
With enough persistence.
And you had an idea Marco would give you a break if your work wasn’t quite completed for the rest of the day. There were more important things.
Namely that Ace was sulking in his room.
“I thought you had stuff to do.”
He startled which was also suspicious. Because any other day, Ace would have smiled at you randomly appearing. Now, he jumped as though he’d seen a ghost. You didn’t enter yet, unsure if he wanted you to.
“I do,” he said. “Counting petals, apparently.”
“And how many are you on?”
“Not that many.”
“Ace…”
“It doesn’t matter, okay?” he said, trying to smile. “I’m not that sick. See. Stop worrying yourself so much.”
“Marco said it was fatal.”
His expression fell immediately, torn between anger and panic. “What?! Why would he tell you that? He wasn’t meant to - what else did he say?”
“Because I chased him around the deck and nagged. You’re clearly ill. I wanted to know how bad it was. What was the treatment he told you about? It can’t be risky enough that you would prefer to die.”
“I’m not going to die.”
“What if you do?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a plant.”
You walked a step inside and he immediately took a step away. You froze. The pain of rejection hurt more than you cared to admit. Ace never moved away from you. Not once in all the time you’d spent with him.
“How can I help? I can check for petals or…?”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m fine, okay. Don’t worry about it.”
You looked around the room and then sat down right where you had been standing, crossing your legs. He stared at your spot on the floor.
“Come on,” he complained
“I’m waiting.”
He opened his mouth as though to protest but before he could fully get the sentence out, he coughed slightly. He covered his mouth. You stared, tapping your nails against the floor. He coughed again, muffled.
“Marco said you had to count them,” you said. “So don’t burn them.”
He narrowed his eyes over his hand. The next cough caused him to wince but then another began deep in his chest. The sounds made you wince. They rasped as he heaved in a breath before a proper fit started. Two petals fell from his hand, splattering onto the floor.
When he caught his breath again, he flicked his wrist and they all landed in front of you.
You counted them with your eyes.
“Nine,” you said.
“Twelve,” he muttered, his throat raw.
Three more were stuck to his palm still. He peeled them off and tossed them to the ground.
“This can’t be comfortable,” you protested. “Come on, Ace. The cure can’t be more dangerous than what you did literally a week ago against that Marine group.”
He ran a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “I don’t need to do anything to fix it if it isn’t a problem.”
“Not a problem?” you asked, looking over the evidence on the ground.
“It’s only dangerous if they’re full flowers,” he said. “But the petals are small so… the flowers probably are too.”
You looked at them and shrugged. “Great. So you’ll choke on ten rather than five.”
He stared and then sat down across from you, his legs crossed. “If I do what Marco wants then there’s a cost, okay? And I don’t think it’s worth it. Not because of a little coughing.”
“It’ll get worse.”
“I can burn them. It’ll be fine.”
“Does it hurt?”
Ace winced and shrugged a shoulder. “Kind of. It’s more uncomfortable than anything.”
You noticed it. He was an awful liar. He looked antsy when the topic was brought up but you didn’t press on it. You supposed it was a stupid question. There were literal petals splattered across the ground that proved his answer.
“I’m staying here tonight,” you said.
“I don’t know if I - “
“Not for that,” you said. “To make sure you don’t choke to death in your sleep.”
His expression softened and he sighed. “If it makes you feel better.”
“It doesn’t,” you said. “There’s no cost worth your life, you know that right? Literally nothing.”
“There’s plenty.”
“No.”
Ace adjusted himself. “I’m not going to die so it’s not worth risking it for a maybe. It’ll be uncomfortable for a while and then it’ll probably go away. What if I go for the cure and it doesn’t work? Then I lose something and it doesn’t even fix the disease.”
“Did Marco say it could go away?”
“He said maybe?”
“Maybe.”
“He said it was possible but he’s never heard of it.”
You wanted to flick his shoulder for that. If he didn’t already look like one wrong movement would make him scramble, you would have. What kind of stupid…
“That’s not…”
“Can you please drop it.”
The sharp edge of his tone made you breathe out through your nose.
Ace looked genuinely stressed. You hated how you could see the irritation brimming under his skin. He was barely suppressing his usual technique of hiding nervousness behind anger because snapping would be snapping at you.
You appreciated it enough to leave it. “Alright,” you said. “I’ll drop it for now.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Some water,” he said. “My throat feels raw.”
You stood up and nodded, stepping back into the hall. You tried to ignore how much your hands shook. The panic settled uncomfortably in your chest, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Tears pricked at your eyes and you wiped them away before they could fall.
He would be alright. He had to be alright.
Marco said he would intervene if it got too bad and Ace wouldn’t just die for no reason. You had to repeat it to yourself an ungodly amount even on the short walk to the galley.
But it didn’t take long for other consequences to start arising.
You were uncertain about going out when Ace was feeling like this but the fifth division needed more firepower. Literally. You didn’t even need to know what Marco’s opinion on it was. He had no reason to tag along.
Ace was exhausted before the fight broke out.
The coughing had been ruining his already poor sleep cycle. He could fall asleep anywhere but it was never for long enough. You watched his head dip twice on the ship ride there, eyes staying closed for far too long. Both times you looked immediately toward Marco who returned your expression with a tight-mouthed response.
He couldn’t tell Ace not to lead his division into battle. But you knew he was waiting for something inevitable.
And that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
The clearing was already churned up by the time the fighting spread around you. Smoke hung low between the trees and steel rang from every direction beneath the roar of Ace’s fire.
It shouldn’t have been a tough fight for him. Vista had already dismantled the main danger and it was easy to move from there.
Ace’s flames surged but you could see the effort in it. His shoulders rose with every breath. When somebody shouted something to him, it took Ace long enough to turn that the man called his name again.
With three commanders on the battlefield and two divisions, this was the Whitebeards’ conflict to win. And sure enough, the other side was easily pushed back but Ace was too lethargic. He moved too slowly.
And right as he brought up a fire fist attack, the flames spluttered out in place of a sharp cough.
The fires around him flickered. Vista’s head turned immediately. You almost lost your arm twisting toward Ace, dodging your opponent’s blade through luck alone.
Ace’s coughing was loud and rough. He slammed a hand into his chest but it did nothing to help.
“Cover Ace, yoi!”
Marco’s call changed half the battlefield. Ace tried to bring up more flames on his chest but they wouldn’t catch. They flicked and sparked out no matter how much he tried.
You drove an elbow into the enemy swordsman’s nose before he could swing again and forgot about the rest entirely.
It took you no time to reach Ace but there was nothing you could do. You stood helplessly for a second before you rested a hand on his back and tried to rub it as he choked.
At your feet, three full flowers lay against the churned ground of the battlefield. They looked so wrong there, yellow petals brushed out to white, delicate and beautiful yet marred with dirt and blood.
The red stains made your limbs stiffen.
You couldn’t call for Marco. He was busy. Ace’s falter had left a gap and the fight had to continue even if he was coughing.
Your hand stayed fixed against his back. For one awful second, you couldn’t think past the wet choke of his breathing.
Fire caught. It ignited over his chest and he gasped in air, breathing out smoke that smelled sickly sweet beneath the burn. He spluttered hard, coughing over the fumes rather than the flowers but he was breathing again.
Relief arrived and you barely stopped yourself from hugging him. He was alive. There was a battle to deal with before you killed him.
Marco almost got to it first.
No sooner had the threat disappeared than he was at Ace’s side, looking murderous.
“I warned you,” he said.
“What’s going on with him?” Vista asked.
“Nothing,” Ace bit out through his teeth. “It’s fine. I can handle it.”
“That didn’t look like handling it,” Marco said. “That looked like you almost suffocating in the middle of a fight.”
“He’s sick,” you answered Vista and Ace threw a glare in your direction.
Vista sheathed his blades. “Then why are you out here? The third division could have come through.”
Ace waved a hand through the air but before he could even defend himself, he began to cough again. Marco’s flames flickered into existence almost on instinct but you knew there was little he could do to heal this.
Flowers in the throat weren’t exactly an injury to be melted away.
“You need to deal with this,” Marco said. “Or I’m going to. You’re not going to die because of it.”
Ace stared at him through watering eyes and you looked away as the coughing intensified. You were starting to really despise that sound. You were never going to have a normal response to somebody getting ill again.
“What’s the cure, Marco?” you asked. “Because this is getting ridiculous.”
“Ace will –”
“You told me you would intervene before it got too bad. Is this not too bad?”
Marco met your gaze, contemplating. He glanced around at the men still surrounding their commanders and shot a look to Vista. Who thankfully understood enough to order everybody back to the boats.
“Don’t,” Ace said around a mouthful of black smoke. “Don’t you dare say anything.”
Marco regarded him coolly. “I don’t know if you’re in any position to make demands, yoi. This has become far worse than you should have let it.”
“It’s –”
“Fine?” you interrupted. “Fine? How long was it between this one and the last? Like five minutes?”
Ace spat out a flower, smoke curling from the petals. “I can still burn them.”
Marco didn’t even bother looking at it. “The disease is caused from believing your feelings aren’t returned. Unrequited love. It doesn’t matter whether he’s right about it or not.”
You frowned. “What?”
Of everything you’d expected to be said in that moment, that was the last thing that had entered your mind. Experimental surgery. Mysterious cure on some unnamed island. Literally anything but…
“Marco!” Ace snapped.
“Yes?”
“Who the hell are you in love with who doesn’t return it?” you asked, brain catching up before Marco could respond.
Ace had travelled before he reached the Whitebeard crew. He’d been around the Grand Line far more than even you had. You could imagine he might have had someone before you’d become friends or even after, while out with one of the others.
And if you had to –
“Don’t join him in being stupid, yoi. He’s managing that enough on his own.”
“What the fuck? You said you wouldn’t say anything!”
You looked toward Ace, confusion creeping in.
“I promised to give you time to do it on your own,” Marco said. “That time has passed. You will not risk your life over something this ridiculous, yoi.”
“That’s not possible,” you said, mind moving fast enough to hurt. “You said it was caused by unrequited love. I’ve been in love with Ace for years. If it was me, he wouldn’t have been sick in the first place.”
Ace’s flames crackling against his skin were the only sound you heard for a few, horrible moments.
“What?” he said, voice almost lost in the din of his own fire.
“I know, I know,” you said, embarrassment crawling up the sides of your neck but fear coming through much stronger. “You wanted something casual. I screwed up by falling for you. That’s whatever. The point is, it can’t be me so we have to figure out who it is.”
Marco looked toward Ace when he answered you, his voice sharp. “Perceived unrequited love,” he said. “It doesn’t have to be true, as long as he thinks it is.”
He walked away from both of you.
Your eyes slid to Ace who was staring at you as though you’d stabbed somebody in front of him. Perceived…
“It’s me?”
Ace wasn’t answering. He gave one small, tiny cough in the back of his throat.
You… all of the coughing and the spluttering and the nearly dying and it had been for you?
“For years?” he repeated.
You blinked at him. All the nights spent rubbing his back while he brought up burnt petals. The panic keeping you up… the fear that if you fell asleep, you might miss the moment you needed to call for help.
And he hadn’t said a thing?
You didn’t know if relief, anger, or excitement was sitting in your throat right now. Or if it was some heinous combination of all three.
“I was in love with you even before that night,” you confirmed with a small nod. “But wait, you’ve known about this the whole time? And you didn’t tell me it was killing you? Seriously?”
A flame darted over his collarbone. “I didn’t want to ruin… you know.”
“So you would rather die?”
“I – That’s not what I meant. I thought you would be upset about it! Why didn’t you tell me before we agreed to everything? If you were in love with me then you could have just said so!”
“Ace, that night you looked like you were going to combust from a kiss alone. I wasn’t going to start telling you how long I’d been pining for you.”
“Because I liked you!”
“Well how was I supposed to know that? I thought it was an impulsive thing!”
“You could have asked?”
“That’s not really the time to ask somebody what they feel about you. You could have asked too, by the way. Or you know, told me when you started choking to death over it!”
He stared at you for a very long, dragged out minute before he looked away. “I never wanted it to be casual. I just wasn’t gonna push my luck.”
“I kissed you back.”
“Yeah but you could have done that anyway.”
“What more did you want me to do? Did I have to issue a public notice to half the crew declaring my love? Ask for Pops’ blessing? Like I thought kissing somebody was a pretty damn clear sign!”
Ace snorted slightly. “I got a love disease for you so clearly that was an option.”
You stared at him blankly, wondering if Marco would believe it was the flowers that had killed him. But he had a small smile on his face and that softened your heart just a little.
“For the record,” you said. “I don’t do platonic sex.”
He flushed red immediately. “That’s not what I meant!”
“Well clearly –”
Your complaints were cut off by a sudden bout of coughing. He doubled over and you crossed the distance to his side in record speed. Marco had said… what else was there? Were you meant to do something more?
A flower petal landed on the ground by your boot, wrinkled and dying. Another followed it shortly after. You watched it curl into ash, blown away by the wind.
Ace took two deep breaths and rubbed at his chest. “Ow.”
He straightened slowly and pulled his hat back onto his head, wiping at his mouth. The few petals that remained lay on the ground around you, slowly disappearing. Relief hit hard enough to make your knees weak and you let out a small, disbelieving laugh.
Then you threw both your arms around his neck and kissed him.
Ace made a startled sound against your mouth, stumbling half a step before his hands caught at your waist. He kissed you back, hot and breathless, with a slight smile curving against your lips.
You pulled away just enough to look at him. “I can’t believe you almost died because you wouldn’t just ask if I loved you.”
“You still could have told me.”
“Next time you start coughing up flowers, it’ll be the first thing I think of.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem again.”
“It had better not be.”
You kissed him again, harder this time until your own lungs were burning. Only that was something you wouldn’t mind feeling many, many more times.
Summary: “You’re the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me.”
Song: Die For You - The Weeknd
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
The wind off the New World carried the scent of salt, damp cedar, and something faintly sweet—the last remnants of a barrel of West Blue rum cracked open three islands back.
You sat on the edge of the Red Force’s figurehead, your boots dangling over the dark, churning expanse of the ocean. The night was a vast, velvet ceiling pricked with unfamiliar constellations, the kind of stars that only seemed to burn brighter the closer you got to the edge of the map.
Behind you, the muffled sounds of the crew’s late-night carousing drifted from the main deck—Benn Beckman’s dry, gravelly chuckle, Lucky Roux’s booming laugh as he stole another piece of meat from the pantry, and Yasopp strumming a lazy, off-key tune on his battered acoustic guitar.
Footsteps crunched softly on the wood behind you, heavy and familiar. You didn’t need to turn around to know the rhythmic, slightly lurching cadence of them.
A heavy woolen cloak settled over your shoulders, smelling instantly and overwhelmingly of him: cheap tobacco, sea spray, and the rich, intoxicating warmth of sake. A moment later, the figurehead shifted as a large, solid weight settled beside you.
Shanks didn’t speak right away. He mirrored your posture, leaning back on his palms, his one good arm taking most of his weight. The red hair that tumbled loosely around his shoulders caught the pale moonlight, glowing like embers in a dying hearth.
"You're going to catch a chill out here," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that always managed to settle deep into your chest. "And if you get sick, Beckman is going to lecture me for three days straight about crew welfare. Have mercy on me."
You offered a small, fond smile, pulling the cloak tighter around yourself. "Benn only lectures you because you never listen to him the first time."
"Guilty as charged," Shanks chuckled, a low vibration in his chest. He reached into his coat with his left hand, pulled out a flask of sake, and uncorked it with his teeth. He took a long swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his forearm, before offering the metal flask to you.
You took it, feeling the residual warmth of his hand still lingering on the cool metal. The alcohol burned pleasantly all the way down, chasing away the damp bite of the midnight air.
"Penny for your thoughts," Shanks said softly, turning his head to look at you. His dark eyes, usually gleaming with the restless fire of a man who owned the horizon, were entirely soft.
Stripped of the terrifying aura he projected when the Marines or rival Yonko came sniffing around, he was just a man with too many scars, a straw hat on his back, and a heart that he wore far too openly on his sleeve for someone in his line of work.
"Just thinking about how far we've come," you admitted, swirling the liquid left in the bottom of the flask. "From that dingy tavern in the East Blue to… whatever this is. The edge of the world."
Shanks followed your gaze out toward the endless horizon, where the sea met the night sky in a seamless, ink-black blur. A faint, reminiscent smile touched the corners of his lips. A three-inch scar across his left eye wrinkled as he grinned.
"Feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?" he said. "Sometimes I look back and wonder how a reckless bastard like me ever managed to survive long enough to meet you. Fate must have a twisted sense of humor."
"Or infinite patience," you countered, nudging his shoulder with yours.
Shanks laughed, a rich, full-bodied sound that seemed to chase away the chill of the open ocean. He reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gently cupping your jawline.
His thumb brushed softly over your cheekbone, tracing the skin with a reverence that always caught you off guard, no matter how many years you’d spent by his side.
You leaned instinctively into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief second to savor the friction of his rough skin against yours. When you opened them again, his gaze had darkened, losing its playfulness.
There was a raw, aching intensity in his dark eyes that made your breath catch in your throat.
"You know," Shanks began, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, competing only with the wash of the waves against the hull. He paused, searching your face as if he were trying to memorize every single line, every expression, etching it permanently into his soul. "I’ve chased a lot of things in my life. Freedom. Power. Laughter. The kind of adventures that poets write songs about for centuries."
He shifted closer, the heat radiating off his broad chest pressing against your side. The empty sleeve of his red coat fluttered slightly in the breeze, a stark reminder of the violent world he inhabited, and the countless times he had bled just to keep standing on two feet.
"I've stood on islands of gold, and I’ve watched the sun set over seas that would make ordinary men weep," he continued, his thumb still rhythmically tracing your cheek. "I’ve had everything the world has to offer laid out at my feet."
His voice cracked ever so slightly, a rare vulnerability breaking through the iron facade of one of the strongest men alive.
"And yet… none of it meant a damn thing until you walked into my life."
Your heart skipped a beat, a sudden, heavy warmth blooming in your chest. You opened your mouth to tease him, to deflect with some dry remark the way you usually did when things got too earnest, but the words died on your tongue when you looked into his eyes. There was no joking there. Only absolute, unwavering truth.
Shanks leaned in, resting his forehead against yours. His breath, smelling faintly of sweet rice wine and sea salt, mingled with yours.
“You’re the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me,” he whispered, the words slipping out of him like a confession long overdue.
The weight of them hung in the salt-heavy air, more powerful than any Haki he could ever project.
You reached up, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder, right where the familiar scent of him was strongest.
You felt his good arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him, as if he were terrified that if he let go, the wind would snatch you away into the dark ocean.
"You're an idiot, Red-Haired Shanks," you murmured against his skin, though your voice trembled with emotion.
"Yeah," he breathed out, pressing a fierce, lingering kiss into your hair, right above your ear. "Your idiot."
Down on the deck, Yasopp struck a louder chord on his guitar, and a chorus of drunken, roaring laughter erupted from the crew as Lucky Roux presumably told another terrible joke. The world out there was dangerous, unpredictable, and cruel. It was a world of monsters and Marines, of shifting tides and eternal war.
But sitting there, wrapped in his red cloak and held safely against his beating heart, the rest of the world simply ceased to exist. . . .
Saturday - poetry & chocolate ice cream (FIL!Joel Miller x f!reader)
Sequel to More
Rating: Explicit, MDNI
Summary: "Every little wrinkle on his face, every mole and skin blemish, dimples and bald patches in his beard. He calls them flaws, you call them the map of love".
Your husband is away for “work” and you get to spend the weekend with the man you truly love, your father in law.
WC: 5,7K
Tags: Infidelity, smut, canon divergent, no outbreak, Joel has a son in this (I named him Javier after his canon grandpa heheh) established relationship, a lot of feelings (ugh, obviously), oral (both receiving), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, nipple play, edging, cum eating, breeding kink if you squint (but reader is on the pill like I said in the first part), reader has hair and she is smaller than Joel, she is described wearing a skirt, a top and lipstick, no other details are given, age gap, she is in her 30s, Joel is pushing 60, swearing, pet names, pussy pronouns, mention of food, brief Joel’s pov at the end.
A/N: Thank you so much for the love you gave to More ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this little sequel. I’m going to write another part soon, these two are really growing on me in a way I didn’t expected. All this is much sweeter than I intended for it to be, but I don't know man, it just came out like this.
Editing/beta reader: @aurorawritestoescape, thank you always for your help and support, love you lots! 🥹♥️
Masterlist
Dividers: @/saradika-graphics (genuinely forgot to write this because I’m stupid and then added right away as soon as I realized, my apologies)
It's been at least a month since you first slept with Joel.
Your husband doesn't suspect a thing.
He doesn't even imagine that every time you smile looking at your phone, you're reading a message from Joel.
Or rather, he doesn't even see it.
By now, it's as if you two were strangers.
In just a few years Javier, named after his grandfather, has become the most indifferent man you’ve ever met.
When you met him, he was romantic, gallant, showering you with compliments and grand gestures.
Yes, he had a reputation of a playboy, but he seemed to have eyes only for you.
There had been some particularly heated arguments before you got married, but what couple doesn't argue?
You had been single for a long time, fragile, longing for someone by your side, and he seemed like the right one.
You felt a sense of belonging with him, you felt you had arrived at the right place for you.
Javier was very convincing, not surprisingly, he was a lawyer.
He had won over your parents, especially your mother.
He seemed perfect, on paper.
And for a few months, he really was.
Until you realized that you liked the idea of him more than you liked him in the flesh.
How could you not have noticed how condescending he was toward you?
Every time you tried to express your opinion about something, he would interrupt you and launch into one of his harangues. He did this especially in front of others, which annoyed you greatly.
But you gritted your teeth and told yourself it was just a small thing, you don't throw away marriages because of professional bias.
Then he started making negative comments on everything about you: your weight, the way you dressed, your hair color, your laugh.
And, finally, your job.
Sure, you didn't spend your days in courtrooms, but you were good at your job.
That wasn't enough for him; nothing about you was ever enough for him.
But once again, you held on, deluding yourself that things would get better.
And maybe it was true, maybe you could improve after all.
You really tried to be the wife he wanted.
But you couldn’t, because he fell in love with someone else. You could do nothing to change the state of things.
You’re not his secretary.
You still live with him and you’re fucking his father in your marital bed.
“Is he gone?” You read on a Saturday morning, while drinking coffee in your kitchen.
Javier told you about a lawyer convention or something he couldn’t miss. You didn’t even pay attention, you know perfectly he’s not going to any job related event.
He’s taking his lover away for the weekend.
“Not yet. He’s zipping his suitcase right now,” you type and see three dots fluttering on your screen a few seconds later.
You take another sip of coffee, your synapses slowly awakening with the warm beverage sliding down your throat.
“Call me as soon as he’s out of the house. I parked two streets away from yours and I think people are starting to wonder if I am a stalker or something.”
You laugh softly, as you imagine Joel in his pickup truck, trying not to attract attention.
“Javier! You’re going to miss your flight!” you scream in the stairwell, maintaining the illusion that you bought the excuse he gave you.
“Coming!” He yells back.
You hear his footsteps down the stairs after a few minutes. “Damn, where did I put the keys?”
“Cabinet in the hallway,” you reply from the kitchen, rolling your eyes. It's almost unbearable how you still have to take care of him, as if you care about saving this marriage.
“Oh right, here they are,” Javier grunts and enters the kitchen, clearing his throat “So, I’m leaving.”
His large brown eyes, like his father's, give you a heartbroken look, as if he were sorry to leave.
He should already win an Academy award.
A quick kiss and he’s out of the door, finally.
You grab your phone from the table and send a text to Joel- “He’s gone.”
After a few minutes, you hear the familiar whirring of Joel’s truck in your driveway.
You look at yourself in the hallway mirror, fixing your hair and checking your lipstick, which you hastily applied as soon as Javier walked out the door.
A knock on the door and he’s here.
Joel smiles at you, “Hey baby.”
“Hey,” your heart is melting already, it’s becoming ridiculous at this point. “Come in.”
“I bought some ice cream while I was waiting,” he says, handing you a bag with a logo of the coffee shop at the corner.
“What flavor?”
“Chocolate,” he tilt his head slightly, waiting for your reaction.
“My favorite,” you confirm what he already knows, lashes fluttering, your voice sweet. You take the bag and turn around to go put it in the freezer.
Joel closes the door and he’s all over you in a damn second. Sloppy, urgent, messy kisses, your breath gone and your heart racing wildly in your chest. Big hands grabbing your hips, pulling you against him, squeezing your ass and your brain is cotton candy, clouded and mushy but totally satisfied.
When you part, your lipstick is all over his chin. “Well, hello there,” you pant, smiling. “I missed you”
“I missed you, too,” he growls softly and you know it’s true. He’s been busy helping Tommy all week. He’s retired but still works because he can't sit around doing nothing all day. No matter how much his back hurts, he’s stubborn like that. And Tommy takes advantage of his diligence when things get tough.
This weekend he’s all yours.
You’ve stocked the fridge, cleaned the house from top to bottom, and run all the errands. You plan on staying in bed for the next two days.
Joel is still holding you, his big paws on your ass.
His lopsided smile makes your knees weak, his eyes are fixed on you, lustful chocolate for you to devour, a look that leaves so little to imagination.
Every little wrinkle on his face, every mole and skin blemish, dimples and bald patches in his beard. He calls them flaws, you call them the map of love.
There’s a little scar on his temple, he said it was from hitting something when he was a kid. You’re always eager to kiss it, just because it’s so him.
He makes you think of wabi-sabi, the Japanese concept you once read about. That little scar doesn’t need to be fixed, like everything in him. His beauty is imperfections, raw, authentic, unique, deeply human.
Joel is just like that. Flesh and blood that hunt you down and make you dirty and imperfect but you never felt more liberated and your true self than wrapped in his arms.
“You have my lipstick all over your chin,” you giggle.
“Well, you, too. Think it’s perfect,” he replies, the pad of his fingers brushing your lower lip.
You clean up his and your messy face, lead him to the living room and make him sit on the couch.
“I’m going to put this away and take something to drink, don’t move.”
He gives you that look that always appears on his face when you walk away - longing and yearning. You’d call you both pathetic, but you’re so drunk in love, it’s just sweet. You’ve never seen Joel with that face before, it’s a “yours” face and you wouldn’t give it away for all the money in the world.
Heading to the kitchen you’re humming lightly, then put the ice cream in the freezer and take a bottle of white wine out.
You pour it in two glasses and return to Joel. Stepping through your living room arc you can’t believe the image that hits you. Joel is right there where you left him with your notebook that you’ve left on the coffee table.
He's deep in reading and doesn't hear you come in.
“That’s private, you know,” you say, handing him the glass.
“I’m sorry, but… do you write poetry?” he asks and you can tell he’s not sorry, he’s impressed.
Brows raised, he’s holding the notebook with a special care, looking at you with admiration.
You feel self conscious right away, it’s probably not the moment to let a part so intimate of yourself out.
“Sometimes,” you shrug. “It’s nothing special.”
“Hey, don’t belittle yourself,” he tells you, tapping on the pages. “This is great.”
“I’m not a writer, it’s just an outlet, you know,” you stubbornly say.
He looks at you shaking his head, “no, baby. You write. You’re a writer. End of story.”
You grab the edge of the notebook and try to take it out of his hands but he doesn’t let go.
“Oh come on, don’t be shy. They’re beautiful!” He pleads.
“What do you know about poetry?” You insist and it comes out more petty than you intended for it to be.
“Very little, to be honest.” He closes the notebook, but with a finger in the middle to keep track. “I just wanna… I don’t know, read you. I didn’t know you were a writer, it’s a missing piece. I know I wasn’t meant to step into this territory but it’s so nice to see.” His puppy eyes send you into a spiral. “And I honestly love the way you write.”
You sigh, he’s not a poet but he sure knows how to work with words. He’s pulling out a sad face you can’t say no to. As soon as you say, “Okay, then,” he kisses the tip of your nose, his lips curve into the biggest smile and he opens the notebook again.
He holds it at a comical distance from his face to read, because he often refuses to put on his reading glasses in front of you. You've told him it's stupid and that you find him incredibly sexy, but you know it'll take some convincing.
He turns the last written pages and there’s one thing you wrote specifically about him.
He visibly swallows as his eyes move up and down the page, reading every word, catching on every line and space.
Traced on paper, messy and chaotic like things written in one go, are your feelings for him. You haven't even reread it. You wrote it two weeks ago after you sneaked in the guest bathroom of his house to kiss.
It’s terrifying and thrilling at the same time.
He's so focused that when you kiss his neck as a distraction, he growls “darlin’, this is so good but let me finish, okay?”
So you stay quiet, fidgeting on the couch, waiting for him to tell you he just read the most cheesy thing you’ve ever written.
“You think this of me?” he whispers.
“Is it bad?” Your breath hitches a little bit.
“It is not.” He kisses you right after, so gently, “I don’t deserve this.”
You look him in the eyes, an inch from his face. “Yes, you do.” He goes straight for another kiss without saying anything more because he knows your tone and he knows you won’t take your words back.
It’s in the softness of his kisses that your desire lies, it’s the need of having him all for you, body, soul and mind.
The kiss deepens and his tongue tangles with yours, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your system.
You never felt this way with Javier, it was barely a quiet caressing moment and you thought it was the best you could have.
Joel feels like a matter of life or death, an urgency that runs in your veins.
You kneel in front of him, your labored breaths and the unbuckling of his belt are the only sounds filling the room.
You unzip his jeans and slide them down to his ankles, revealing his black boxers.
Tight-fitting, like you asked once. You told him his big gorgeous cock deserved to be wrapped in something enhancing the shape and the thickness of it and he gestured at you and grunted like you were saying something silly.
“I’m not into anything tight,” he grunted.
“False. What about my pussy?” You asked with the most mischievous smile painted all over your face.
He laughed, hard. Joel rarely laughs but that time? His eyes wrinkled, his dimples appeared deep on his cheeks, his eyebrows rose, his white teeth peeped out from his lips and laughter came out of his throat like a warm and sincere hug.
He obliged you today.
His cock looks even bigger, the outline of it stretching the fabric, a wet stain right in the front.
You instinctively lick your lips at the vision, your hand closes around it, sliding up and down.
You feel it twitching at your touch and Joel squirms on the couch, eyes fixed on your hand barely wrapping it all.
You press your hand to the tip, slowly massaging it and he gasps. Your eyes lock and you can see a silent demand burning in them.
Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.
Of course, you can’t, it’s addictive.
His cock pulses in your hand, drips through the boxers and right in your palm.
You love to see him struggling, you know he's holding back so he doesn't reach the climax right away, he clenches his fists at the sides and closes his eyes hissing a hoarse "fuck".
You smirk proudly.
It happened twice that he came right in his underwear and he still has a hard time accepting it.
For you, it was delicious.
You and Javier haven't done anything in months and you're pretty sure he hasn't even noticed.
Joel wants you so much his whole body boils up every time you’re around him.
You pull down his boxers and his cock springs out an inch from your lips. It's incredibly hard, and a trickle of pearly liquid runs down its length. You block it with your tongue, slowly moving up, finally moaning as you taste it on your tongue.
Joel hisses again and another spurt comes out, you scoop it up with your fingers, smearing it on his cock and start fucking it with your fist.
Up and down as it twitches, slowly and steadily.
Joel is on the verge, big vein on his neck pulsing and his jaw clenching.
“I’m —fuck… I’m so close,” he growls to which you coo, “nah, hold it a little longer. I haven’t even taken it in my mouth yet”
You taste a little more of that pungent musk, a couple of laps under the tip and then you swirl your tongue around his engorged mushroom.
“Be a good boy,” you murmur, looking him in the eye so as not to miss the moment he snatches.
He gets a little crinkle above his nose, a grimace on his lips, he looks at you like he would yell “what?!” but he can’t. His mouth is agape but only growling is coming out.
Teasing him is always fun because he always looks shocked first, and then the joke lands and he laughs. But those first few seconds where he looks puzzled are priceless, you would watch it for the rest of your life and you would never grow tired.
You’re pumping hard, thin velvety skin all wet between your fingers and you feel dizzy.
Your head is light and your heart is warm and between your legs…a river’s running already.
A little bit of his tummy is poking from underneath his shirt, a happy trail you got to know so well, you focus right there seeing it rise and fall until it’s glistening with his release.
White streaks pooling at the base of his cock, leaking on the leather sofa your husband bought for you.
Joel’s face is flushed and he’s panting heavily, his voice broken, his pupils blown. His big hand grabs your arm as if searching for help.
“I got you,” you whisper. “I know. It’s okay” - like he always does for you.
It’s the beginning of the weekend and it already feels like a victory to you.
Still kneeling on the floor, you eagerly lick his balls clean and his hand moves to the nape of your neck, keeping you there, silently telling you you’re doing a good job.
He smiles at you, grunting softly, “you menace.”
You look at him with your doe eyes, and reply, “just the way you like me.”
Your head rests on his hairy leg while he plays with a lock of your hair, regaining his breathing. It’s comforting, as if life had always been this way, as if it had always been him.
It’s also thrilling, what you should have been feeling with your legit husband, but it turned out to be a delusion.
Joel tangles a finger in your hair, whispering “you look so pretty like this.”
You glance at him, still leaning on his inner thigh. “Between your legs?”
He chuckles, “Relaxed. Smiling. But yeah, that, too. You should come here, though.”
He takes your hand and pulls you onto his lap.
“So much better.”
You hide your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his woody scent. He presses you against his chest, and you can't help but sigh, stretching your legs on the couch.
He's hot, still half naked with his pants and boxers around his ankles.
He lifts your chin and kisses you. His mustache brushes your upper lip and it tickles you so delightfully, you laugh into his mouth.
“What?” He groans.
“I’m ticklish,” you admit and oh boy, you wish you never did because he starts tickling you right away.
You cry with laughter, clinging to his arms and screaming, “enough Joel, please!” as he continues to move his hand from your arms, to your belly, your knee, your ankles, asking “can you feel it here?”
And then he moves up your inner thigh, under your skirt, slowly, just with his fingertips. “Do you feel it here?”
You look him in the eyes and turn serious again. “Just a little.”
Tension in your body rises high in anticipation.
He moves even higher, his fingers brushing your panties. “Do you feel it here?”
“No,” you whisper.
When he dips his fingers into your folds through the fabric, testing how wet they are and you moan.
“Do you feel something else?” He asks, pressing on your clit.
“Yes,” you breathe.
“Good. Let’s see how hard you can feel it.”
He circles your nub from above your panties, slowly, taking his time.
You’re still clinging onto his neck, fingers buried in his curls, squirming on his legs.
He goes up and down your folds as you drip so much his fingers are wet already.
“Panties are ruined, baby” he growls but he’s still slow, pressing on your little button, smearing your cream all over the fabric.
“I won’t last long if you keep this up,” you say and he tuts, “no, you come when I say it.”
“But Joel…”
He pinches your ass cheek, holding you in place “No. Be good.”
His voice is authoritative now and you don't dare reply except with a whimper.
“I need to work a little more on this pussy. My pussy. She’s mine, right?”
“Yes,” you moan.
“Yeah, then let her have fun”
His index and middle fingers slides beneath your panties, dipping in your juices.
“Aw, she’s throbbing for me, isn’t she?”
Again, you can't articulate a single word.
He pinches your nipple over your top and your back instinctively arches as your eyes widen.
You have no bra on, you thought it was useless anyway.
“Answer me, baby,” he commands, looking at you sternly.
“Yes. - fuck - yeah.”
He flicks your clit a couple of times “what does she want?”
“You.”
“She wants my fingers?” He whispers against your neck. “My pussy wants to be full?”
“Always,” mouth agape and feeling your body heated like a furnace, you open up like a book, clay in his hands for him to play with.
He prods on your tight hole.
“How many?”
You clench hard at the thought and then you moan “Three.”
“God, she really is a little slut, isn’t she?”
You’re tired of being interrogated but there’s nothing else you can do so you faintly hiss a “yes”.
“Please, Joel.”
He stops entirely, his arm still strongly wrapped around your middle. You moan loudly in disappointment, digging your nails into his skin and leaving crescents on his neck that he doesn’t even seem to feel.
He chuckles and whispers, “mmm so desperate for me”
You look him in the eye and he sports the most seraphic and unbothered gaze, a grin painted on his lips. He knows you’re on the verge, and he’s making it go down a bit.
When he feels your thighs relaxed he orders, “take your panties off for me.”
You stand, legs wobbly and head light and you slide down your panties, kicking them on the floor.
“Straddle me,” he commands, and you do, your legs on each side.
You lower yourself, almost brushing your wet pussy on his cock but he stops you, “nope, babe, isn’t time for that.”
You’re about to consider disobeying him and yell back that you can’t wait anymore and he’s driving you mad, but you bite your tongue a second before spitting out your frustration.
He puts his hand between you, his cock resting on his belly, “stay a little raised for me.”
You latch onto his shoulders and he starts rubbing you again. Tight circles around your clit as he pulls up your top with his other hand, freeing your tits.
His lips close around your nipple and he sucks. Hard.
You squirm so hard you almost fall backwards as he swirls his tongue all around your areola, flicking and licking your little button before sucking again.
His hand is still working on your clit in sync with his tongue.
When you beg again, his teeth clamp down on your tit and two of his thick fingers enter your hole.
A guttural sound comes out of your throat, gritty and hoarse.
He starts pumping and curving his digits inside you, pushing on your sensitive spot without stopping, laving at your nipples.
“Good girl,” he growls softly on your skin, the vibration of it sending jolts down your spine.
You’re a mess. Sweaty, hot, and tired from the constant shivers that run through you and Joel's stubbornness as he stops a second before sending you over the edge.
“Hold on a little bit, baby.”
You look down and it’s all filthy and hypnotic. His cock is hard rock again against his tummy, his fingers dripping with your juices, pumping in and out of your little tight entrance, your pussy clenching hard around them, the squelching sound of it bouncing off the walls.
“Can you take another one for me?” He challenges you and you wine “yes” shutting your eyes closed.
His ring finger prods lightly before thrusting into you as his thumb keeps moving on your clit.
It stings at first, until your pussy stretches and cries enough to adjust and you feel the pleasure building.
“See how she’s sucking my fingers in, pussy was starving for me, huh?”
You roll your hips frantically, accompanying his every move, arching your back and pushing your tits deep inside his mouth.
You’re at your limit again and he stops. Again.
He removes his thumb from your clit and his other fingers remain still, inside you.
A couple of thrusts more and you would have reached your climax, and he knows that. You don’t even cry this time, you just look at him as if he‘s just offended you.
He’s firm, doesn’t flinch, the same smirk on his face.
Your juices slide down his wrist, dripping onto his balls, as he praises you, “you’re doing so good, babe.”
He pulls his fingers out of you and orders you to open your mouth.
His index and middle fingers press on your tongue “taste your honey, it’s so sweet.”
You lock your lips around his fingers, licking them greedily, your tongue swirling around and catching your own flavor.
“Yes, baby, just like that,” he encourages you as he kisses your breasts.
“I need to come, please?” you murmur and he smiles “why so impatient, darling, we got all weekend together” in that typical southern drawl of his.
You feel like your heart is beating in your pussy and Joel doesn’t miss that either. “I love feeling you pulsating around my fingers”
“So you're not going to let me come all weekend?” You whine.
“Haven’t said that. I only said we got time.”
Your breathing is returning to normal even though you're still full of his fingers and dripping, so you insist, "Coming for you is never enough for me."
He kisses your lips “that’s sweet.”
“Please,” doe eyes and chirping voice, you beg again. You never begged so much in your life.
“Alright baby, I got you,” he consents and begins to thrust deep into your cunt again.
You break for him right away, looking into his deep brown eyes, his mustache tickling your lips, his strong arm preventing you from falling off the couch while your body quivers and shakes, adrenaline racing through your veins.
Seeing desire growing in his eyes is the most rewarding thing to you.
The way he looks at you, like he really sees you, sits deep in your bones like a comfort embrace.
Joel knows you better than his son, and not only regarding what you love in bed, his eyes follow you like he’s keeping trace of your gestures and habits and how you exist in the world.
“Let it go,” he whispers against your lips. “Let it all go for me.”
His fingers don’t leave your pussy until you’re completely overwhelmed, overstimulated and exhausted. A sweaty mess, holding onto him for a beacon of sanity.
Your body asks for mercy but you would never grow tired of whatever he wants to give you.
“You did so fucking well, baby,” he says, hugging you. “Time to rest a little bit.”
“Let me take a shower first, you got me all sweaty, Mister.”
You get up from the sofa, still feeling unsteady, and head for the stairs. You turn around as you climb the first step and look at him, his head resting on the sofa, his eyes half-closed.
“Wanna come with me?”
He chuckles hard. “Why not? A shower sounds nice.”
Joel insists on washing your hair claiming to be very gentle.
His strength is always there, even when he’s trying to be soft, you can feel the claim in his touch, the pressure through his fingers on your skin even when he’s trying his best to feel like a feather. And it’s okay, it’s him and you don’t want for him to be different.
You have sex another time in the shower.
Your back pressed against the tiles while he fucks you, holding one leg up.
He comes inside you and then insists on cleaning you up. With his tongue.
He eagerly collects the white rivulets of his seed that are sliding down your thighs and pushes them back, thrusting his tongue inside you.
“Where it should be,” he murmurs against your clit.
He looks even more beautiful from above.
The fourth time you come like that, him kneeling, not caring about the pain, your hand buried in his dark, wet curls, one hand on the cold tiles to keep you standing and his hands gripping your hips.
He also insists on cooking dinner for you. You try to protest, but to no avail. Sometimes he just won't listen to reason when he's set on something.
You have dinner looking into each other's eyes like two teenagers in love. He still makes you blush like the first time you realized you had a crush on him.
After dinner, you sit down on the sofa to watch a movie.
Joel wraps you in a blanket and you curl up next to him.
“What do you want to watch?” he asks.
“I don't know, let's see what's on.”
He laughs at how fast you are scrolling through the available streaming movies and you call him old.
After that, he’s compelled to prove to you that he isn’t old at all by fucking you on the carpet.
“I'm going to make love to you on every surface in this house before the weekend is over,” he whispers as he caresses your shoulder and you’re lying there hugging him, your head on his chest, his heartbeat reverberating in your ear.
“I really hope so,” you coo.
It was the first time he called it “making love” instead of fucking, and you like it so much.
Joel was always reluctant to open up. You had only known Tess for a short time before they broke up, but you could clearly see how much Joel loved her.
You didn't know the details, he hadn't talked about it much, even to his son, but it must have been a big shock when she left.
Since then, he had been on a few dates, but nothing serious.
You love the fact that he is so spontaneous and unfiltered with you, much more so than he is with anyone else.
His gestures, the way he takes care of you, even his words, everything flows through him naturally, like a river.
The film is forgotten, there’s only you and his need to prove something to you.
Not how old he is, really, but rather how he can’t do without you.
Joel feels too old for you, and it's something he doesn’t even want to admit to himself.
What is a beautiful woman in her thirties doing with someone like him?
He asked himself that question many times, and many times he tried to curb his instincts and tell you that it had to end.
He didn’t do it, and he knew he never would, not as long as you looked at him that way. With that determination, that desire, that sheer boldness of someone who knows exactly what they're doing and won't apologize for it.
He didn't know if you realized it, but saying no to you was practically impossible for him.
Even when he dominated between the sheets, he knew you were in charge.
Twelve hours have passed, and you are sleeping peacefully in his arms.
He feels your steady breathing, your warmth against him, and stares at the ceiling without moving a muscle, fearing of waking you.
You are drooling slightly on his chest, and he finds it adorable.
Your face is serene and relaxed, your leg on his, your hand loosely resting on his arm.
Sooner or later, you will have to face the reality that you are still married to his son.
Sometimes guilt keeps him awake at night, other times he racks his brains trying to understand why his son started cheating on you.
You are the most incredible woman he has ever known, proud, passionate, intelligent. Now he even knows you write. And he knows he will never get what you wrote about him out of his head.
The way you described him and how he makes you feel, no one has ever used those words for him before.
And damn it, he really likes the way you see him, even though he thinks he doesn't deserve it.
Like he was good and worthy of affection, like he was the only man capable of loving you the way you need to be.
At first, when you told him about his son and his secretary, he was overcome with blind rage.
He just wanted to shake his son and tell him he was a complete idiot who didn't realize how lucky he was.
But then he took you in his arms, trying to reassure you.
And everything changed.
The anger gave way to an atavistic and irrepressible need to protect you, to show you that you were worth much more than your husband had given you.
You looked at him with tears in your eyes, asking him to stay, and he couldn't refuse.
He already knew what would happen, and the day you seduced him, he felt spineless, but also terribly flattered.
In the end, he gave in to his instincts, and now he couldn't turn back.
The more time passed, the more he felt it was right, even if it was wrong in theory.
Joel knows he hasn't felt this alive in a long time.
It’s hard to admit but he never got so much stamina for anyone else before.
Fucking 3,4,5 times in a day was out of the question, but you drive him nuts and he wants you so often and desperately it’s a surprise even for him.
Every time he looks at you, he knows he wants you by his side for the rest of his days.
Every time he touches you, he feels that you are like the oxygen he needs to breathe.
The way you clutch your hands around his neck, the way your body moves under his, the way you moan and cry and beg for him, the way you lick and kiss and suck him in like your life depends on that.
He’s just spent the evening feeding you chocolate ice cream, sitting on the bed with you, after fucking you on the couch, in the shower, on the carpet, between these sheets. He's licked the chocolate off your lower lip.
He‘s swooned at your little smile, at your shining eyes, at your naked body so eager to be touched, licked and devoured by him.
You cut deeper in his heart than any woman, with your every being.
He’s insisted on reading that poem again.
And he is completely, inexorably, in love with you.
Tag for some people that asked for a second part: @hhjhgdaiqoqoan , @joeldarling , @claredevee thank you so much!❤️
You tell Spider-Man about your crush on an oblivious Peter Parker. Spider-Man recommends giving Peter a signal—a sign, so he knows what you want. [4k words, shy!fem!reader/tasm!peter]
˚₊𓆩༺ 🕷༻𓆪₊˚
The night is sweet and warm.
The sun is setting, and the bakery at the end of the street is closing. You watch from your rooftop as one of their workers smokes a cigarette out back, smoke drifting upward, a sight at odds with the smell of powdered sugar ever-present on the breeze.
You pull your knees up toward you and rub your face with a sleeve-covered hand. The hoodie Peter got you is soft to the touch, smelling of detergent against your nose. You stretch it over your knees and peer down at your socks, black with little flowers on the sole. Peter said they looked Minecraft-y, and then he asked if he could borrow a pair from the pack that you never saw again.
You like thinking of him wearing them. Maybe he thinks of you when he does, or maybe they’re rolled up and forgotten under his bed.
You loose a depressed sigh and lean back in your summer chair. There wasn’t much heat for sunbathing today, but the roof makes for a good place to rest in the agreeable evenings. Less so when it rains, which is often. You eye a grey cloud on the horizon but your reluctance to move nor gather your stuff leaves you frowning. You are trying quite hard to stay away from your apartment and, as a consequence, your evil phone. If you have your phone, you’ll check over and over if Peter has replied to your message, but he hasn’t. He doesn’t, really, reply very often.
The sun goes and goes, presenting a miserable dark sky with little in the way of stars, but there are lights in the distance, buildings and cars, all now flocked in artificial white. It’s no soft glow.
You lay down, sit back up, lay down again. You reach for your book and discard it with a sigh. You count the planes that fly overhead, searching for the next whenever the former flies from view. You think about Peter and his big hands, how hot they’d felt pressed to your waist. How brown his eyes are, how soft his lashes must be when touched.
The swip and thwip of spiderwebs being thrown catches your attention immediately. Spider-Man. He must be near—you’ve seen him in person more times than you can remember, and the sound puts you at ease, that delicate snap and stick as he ejects, lets his weight pull, then cuts the line. You lean over the edge of your chair to look for him–
And almost lose your nose as a suit of red and blue comes flying up toward your rooftop.
“Holy–”
“Fuck!” you say, throwing yourself backward with a shout. You bring your hand to your chest, pressing your heart back behind your ribs as the blur of colour comes to a stop on the edge of the roof.
“Sorry!” Spider-Man says. “Jesus, you didn’t see me? I’m kind of, you know, brightly coloured?”
“You came out of nowhere! You’re going sixty miles an hour!”
Spider-Man rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I got places to be. Well, most of the time.”
You feel your heart jumping under your palm. Spider-Man shifts, his head tilting down as though he’s squinting at you assessingly.
“Hey, are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You swallow your nerves. “Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. You scared me, s’all. Sorry for cussing. And yelling.”
He giggles brightly, plonking down on a creaky lawn chair, unperturbed by its green moss. “Yeah, you should be sorry, potty-mouth. Kiss your ma with that mouth?”
You laugh without thinking. “Sometimes.”
Spider-Man lays back in the chair and folds his arms over his stomach. It strikes you that you wouldn’t know if his eyes were open or closed, he looks relaxed, like he could doze. He looks tired, actually. He gives a long sigh and sits up some. Eyes open, decidedly.
“What are you doing up here?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m reading.”
“Reading what?”
You refuse to tell him that it’s a silky sweet romance with a besotted leading man and a beautiful girl, but struggle to think of a lie. The silence lingers until it’s awkward.
Finally, Spider-Man waves a hand at you, his voice genial as he says, “Keep your secrets.”
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
It might be more apt to ask him what it is that he’s doing up here. Surely Spider-Man has more important things to get too than sitting in a rinky-dink chair waiting to snap beneath any weight at all on your dreary rooftop in the cold weather. And more that he doesn’t know you, hasn’t ever spoken to you, no matter how many times you’ve seen him around the city.
“You look tired,” you say softly.
“I’m okay. But, hey, thanks for asking.”
“Sure.”
Awkward silence lingers again. Your blatant confusion as to his presence becomes obvious, and Spider-Man looks away, rubbing at his neck again with that same nervous hand.
“You looked lonely,” he says. “I guess I wondered if you wanted company, or– or a shoulder to cry on, or something. Anything.”
“Is that something you do often?”
“What good is looking after the neighbourhood if everybody in it goes home sad?” Spider-Man shrugs. “You don’t have to tell me anything, I’ll only sit here if that’s cool.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
You’re thinking about Peter again. It’s ridiculous, there’s a superhero on your roof and you’re thinking about Pete, but you can’t help it. Spider-Man reminds you of him, his height and build, even his voice, though Spider-Man is all bravado and gruffness where Peter’s a tiny bit shy. It’s what made becoming his friend possible—he’s shy and you’re worse, you’re immovable, you struggle to talk half the time. If Spider-Man hadn’t scared the fuck out of you scaling up the building, you wouldn’t have been able to open your mouth.
“I have a friend,” you say, buckling under the pressure of the quiet. “And I like him. And I don’t know what to do, so. That’s why I’m all messed up.”
“You don’t look messed up,” he says, bringing a hand to his chin to hold like he’s pondering something deeply. “You like someone? That’s a good thing.”
“I don’t think he likes me back.”
“That sucks, but– okay, sorry if this is weird, but you’re beautiful.” Spider-Man straightens in his chair. “Like, you’re really beautiful. And your voice is so nice, I’ve barely heard it and I already know it’s addictive.”
You laugh again without meaning to, a sputter of sound.
“You’re really pretty. If he doesn’t like you back, I’m sure you can find somebody else.”
“Thank you, Spider-Man, but I don’t want anybody else,” you say softly. “He’s really perfect. Have you ever–” You clear your throat, picking at a scagged thread on your pajama bottoms and avoiding his gaze. “It’s stupid.”
“I bet it’s not.”
Nobody’s ever called you beautiful before. Nobody’s ever…
Peter makes you feel beautiful. Tips your chin up with his pinky finger to get your eyes, takes a good look at you when he’s seeing you for the first time in a while, but he never says anything about it. He smiles and he's sweet, but he doesn’t call you beautiful.
“He makes me feel like the only person in the world,” you confess. “He’s not perfect, like I said. He lashes out, and he forgets all the time, he’s late constantly, but he always says sorry, and you know he really means it? He’s the most genuine person. And he’s–” pretty, you want to say, but you look sideways at Spider-Man and can’t bring yourself to say it. “I want more of him than he wants to give me, is all, but I don’t mind. I like being his friend.”
“You want more,” he says, as though turning the words over in his mouth.
“That’s the hard part.”
“That’s a nice love story.” He exhales slowly. “Lucky guy.”
“It’s not a love story,” you say, trying for happy acceptance and sounding weak.
“It could be. Have you told him how you feel? I don’t see how a guy could hear all that from a girl like you and not at least try to make it work?”
You bring your knee up and rest your nose on the fabric there. “I don’t usually talk to people like this. I find it really hard.”
“Oh, so I’m special?”
“You’re an exception.”
“You don’t talk to this guy?”
You press your face fully to your knee, thighs aching.
“Peter doesn’t answer the phone,” you mumble, hoping Spider-Man won’t hear you. “Can’t talk to him about anything. And what would I even say? I know we’ve been friends for years and all but I like you now, and I’m prepared to make things awkward between us forever?” You whine quietly. “Everything’s so hard.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
Spider-Man sounds flustered. Sounds like he took a long plunge from a tall skyscraper. You look up, perplexed, and he’s facing you completely still. It’s like he’s been turned to stone.
“You–” He swallows. “This Peter guy, you really like him?”
“I’ve had a crush on him since forever! And he never notices me, ever!” You scrub at your face. “I know it’s stupid and childish and high school, I know I should tell him how I feel even if there’s not the slightest chance that he’d ever want me back–”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
You squint at him. “You don’t know Peter.”
He laughs, still sounding all flustered and weak. “Okay.”
“Sorry. I guess I’m being really corny, huh?”
“No.” His voice is higher, too, almost like he’s holding his breath. “It’s not corny, it’s nice.”
“He’s really pretty,” you say, lamenting your sad lonely life without him. And now you’ve made a mess all over Spider-Man’s generous listening. If there was a chance he’d come to see you again, you have surely ruined it.
Spider-Man squeaks.
You stare at him. He’s pulling at the edge of his mask, fanning himself, giving you rare glimpses of his pale skin.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“I’m sorry, I’m– super warm.”
“Oh. Is the suit hot?”
“It can be, yeah.”
“I guess I don’t know how to move on,” you say, breaking your gaze to stare at the gravelly rooftop instead. “He’s a great friend, and I didn't always want it so badly. I don’t know why… why it got so much worse lately. I see him and I wish he’d grab me and– and kiss me–” You bite your tongue. “Sorry, Spider-Man. That’s too much information."
“Kiss you how?” he asks.
You jolt a little. “Uh, you know. Just kiss me. A real kiss. He’s kind of affectionate, like, sometimes he tries to hold my hand before we cross the street, and one time he did kiss my cheek, but it was, like, a bit. I want a real kiss.”
“Huh.”
“It’s lame.”
“Love is kinda lame. Corny and cheesy,” Spider-Man sounds oddly pleased. “But maybe he’s got all these lame feelings too, and didn’t want to push you. You seem kinda shy. Maybe he’s worried he’s not reading things right. If you’re the kind of girl who’s easily flustered, how can he know if it’s because of him or not?”
“But what do I do?”
“I don’t know.”
You laugh. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry, but whatever you do, if he gets the signal, he’ll reciprocate.”
“How do you know?”
“Girl as pretty as you?” Spider-Man’s voice goes soft as butter. “He’d be an idiot not to.”
—
By the time you’d made it back inside that night, Peter had replied to your message.
In fact, Peter had spammed you. Answered everything you said with detail and then launched into an apology for not responding, cos he had a bunch of stuff to do and Aunt May had the car and his phone died on the subway home, yada yada.
He then asked you out.
Alright, he didn’t. He asked if you wanted to come over and watch a movie the next day, which is pretty standard Peter friendship activity, but has you smiling like a loser at your phone.
Yes, you’d texted him, would love to, I’ll bring dinner?
Do not!!!! I will order in for us when you get here :D
You’re standing in your nicest skirt, a pretty pink thing that ends at the knees and, and your newest converse, which aren’t all that new. Your cardigan is charcoal wool and buttoned all the way up to fight the sudden chill. It’s later than you realised; you spent an hour panic-changing your clothes and lamenting your response Spider-Man’s advice. You have to give Peter a signal, right?
You are dressed very cute for a movie at his place, and you smell delicious. You’re gonna give him a wide-eyed flirty stare and who knows, maybe he’ll finally get the message.
Or he’ll wonder why you’re so overdressed.
The door finally opens, and Peter’s already smiling. His cheeks are red like spring cherries with a flush that crawls down his neck and probably stains his broad chest, too, his hair in order for once, his usual hoodie and jacket traded in for a plain white t-shirt that’s a little tight. Shows the indents of his chest, the lines of firm muscle there.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says.
You want him to call you beautiful forever. “Don’t,” you say instead. He should know better. You fluster at anything.
Peter stands aside to let you in. You’ve been to the Parker house a ton of times, but it’s noticeably clean, and dimly lit. There are a couple of candles lit in the living room and a bowl of popcorn stands on the coffee table, filling the room with the smells of toffee and butter.
“Was it cold?” he asks.
You nod hurriedly. “So cold. I thought it was supposed to be summer.”
“We’re not that lucky. Make yourself comfy, okay? I gotta grab your drink.”
You unlace your shoes and leave them by the doorway, padding into the living room in your socks. The couch is fitted with enough throw pillows to turn a three-seater into a two-seater. You’re forced to plop yourself somewhat in the middle, but you’re too tempted by the popcorn to worry. You sneak a piece while Peter’s gone, humming as the sweetness breaks out across your tongue.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he calls.
“For what?”
“For not answering you!” His voice echoes nearer, and he grimaces his way through the hall into the living room, two glasses of your favourite in his hands. “I’m awful. I’m an idiot, and I never check my phone. I’m sorry.”
“Peter, it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
Your eyes widen of their own accord as he sits down next to you, thigh to thigh, so close you can see the little bits of amber that swim in his irises, all that brown fragmented by shards of sunlight.
“I–” You nod oddly. “Am sure. Of course. I don’t expect you to drop everything–”
“I know you don’t, but still. I have my phone with me. I can answer you more, and you’re important to me. I get distracted.”
“Did you get all your errands done?”
“Sure.” He hands you your glass and puts his own on the coffee table. “Thanks. You’re an angel.”
“You’re not so bad,” you say.
You relax. Peter lets you choose the movie, and you feel warm sitting there pointing his remote at the TV, flicking unsurely through everything, but he’s Peter. You put on Cado Lake and hand him the remote, sure he’ll enjoy a sc-fi flick, and are instantly gratified when the movie hooks his attention. Not too much, though. He’s clear of mind enough to put the popcorn bowl in your lap and nip you with little questions. Who’s that again? Hey, she looks like May. Wow, you smell good, what is that?
You’re about an hour into the movie when Peter’s hand sews itself behind your back.
It’s warm, and big. His fingertips skate over the mall of your back until he’s found your side, where it curls, and he pulls you gently toward him. Your head drops into the space between his shoulder and head, the TV a colourful blur in front of you, your hand paused dead in the nearly empty popcorn like you’ve been frozen.
“Okay?” he murmurs.
“Yeah,” you say. You’re fine.
He’s warm. He’s solid beside you.
“You’re letting me eat all the popcorn…”
His laugh is a huff against your head. “I’ll make some more.”
“No.” You rest your cheek on his arm. Bliss flits through your entire body like a wave. “It’s okay. I won’t eat your share.”
“You do what you want,” he says, and you wonder if he’s relaxing beneath you, too, heat of his body seeping through his clothes and into your skin as his fingers rub gently into your side. “Get you a sack of popcorn, if you want me to.”
“This is nice.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. This is good.”
You struggle to pay attention to the movie for the next few minutes, wondering if this is really what you think. It’s not exactly friendship-level affection to wrap your arm around someone, is it? But Peter’s so lovely, it could be nothing. Why would it mean anything? What could Peter want with you? Of course you have a crush on him, he’s gorgeous, but Peter has no such motivations about you. Does he?
He’s quiet for a while. You think the movie might’ve really snagged him, but then he turns to you with a shy smile that brightens exponentially when you sneak a glance at him and end up smiling back.
He doesn’t look away.
It gets so hot you wish you could peel out of your cardigan, but you don’t wanna move and displace the moment.
“You’re missing the movie,” you whisper.
“I’ve missed so much of it,” he says.
“What?”
“Look.” He swallows. “Look, I don’t know if I’m– maybe I’m way off base here, and all, but,” —his hand climbs your side, folding over your, pulling you even closer— “maybe I’m not? I don’t know.”
“Off base about what?”
“You know.”
“Do I?” you ask. You can hardly speak above a breath, but Peter hears it.
Peter’s gaze darts down.
You lift your chin. Spider-Man, you think, watching as Peter’s brows knit like he’s in pain and his pupils turn to dimes, sunshot brown melding dark, this better work.
Peter inches his face down until your noses are touching, your eyelashes forced shut in a flutter at his proximity.
He lingers there, in the quiet, breathing the air your exhale and holding his tongue as he raises his hand to cup your cheek tenderly. His fingers slip beneath your ear and his thumb drags over your cheek, distending your lips, and his lips brush against yours so softly you aren’t sure if he really has kissed you, or if you want it bad enough to conjure the sensation. But then he presses in for a proper kiss, and the quiet in the room gets replaced by the pounding of your heart in your own ears.
He tips your head a little and kisses upward, parting his lips to encourage you to let him in. You suck in a breath as he wades in for a real kiss, the heat of tongue and the soft plush give of his lips on yours. He encourages your head back quick, your eyes squinting ever so slightly, but he’s only moving you to wade in for the same kissing at a new angle. His nose tip scrunches into yours.
Your thoughts are electric. Your hand vies for a place to anchor, grasping tightly at his shirt, screwing the fabric over his chest into a ball.
“Holy crap,” he says, pulling back a touch.
His eyes are shining. His mouth is damp with spit, but you aren’t certain if it’s yours or his.
“I can’t believe I had the willpower to wait this long for that,” he says, running his thumb over your bottom lip. “Shit, you're just as perfect as I thought.”
You laugh in a tangle. “What?” you ask breathlessly.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long. Wow, you taste like toffee.”
“I’m sorry–”
Peter gets his thumb under your chin to tip your face up. “For what? For being perfect?”
“For tasting like popcorn.”
“That is the least of my worries.” He does a one-eyed squint at you, stroking your chin and cheek with his thumb, a caress that makes your stomach ache as much as the kisses had. “Sorry it took me so long to kiss you. You’re a hard girl to read.”
“I know,” you mumble.
He kisses your cheek and ducks his face into the side of your head, gathering you in for a hug that’s strong but careful, too, your thigh curving into his lap. He doesn’t seem to notice the way he’s dragging you onto him as he breathes in your hair.
“Pete?”
“Yeah?”
You struggle out of his arms. “Can you kiss me again?” you ask.
“Yes. Yeah. Oh my god, absolutely.”
Your laugh as he bends your backwards into the mountain of throw cushions is ecstatic. Then smushed, quickly, but it’s fine. The kiss is worth getting cut off.
—
(One month later.)
“I was going to tell you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Seriously, I was! But I didn’t want you to be embarrassed."
“Right.”
“And I didn’t want you to be mad.”
You stare at Spider-Man in your boyfriend’s bedroom, unmasked, Peter Parker with hair like a dandelion and eyes so sorry he’s almost winning you over, the mask clasped in hand.
“You knew who I was talking about,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, “and you still made me give you a signal? Do you know how hard that was for me?”
“You can do hard things!”
“Peter.”
“I wanted to be sure. I have a huge crush on you, you know that? It was just as scary for me as it was for you.”
You sniff indignantly. Spider-Man drags himself from his window to take your hands, pouting like a loser for your forgiveness.
“Can you please forgive me?” he asks. “Don’t you think it would’ve given my secret away if I turned up at your door and planted one on you? You do not understand the strength it took to wait.”
“Peter, it wasn’t even twenty four hours.”
“You’re really pretty,” he mumbles.
You forgive him already, not that he needs to know that. You have more important questions to ask.
“So, what’s with the webs?”
“D’you like ‘em?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He whines.
You plant a little kiss on his jaw and make for the bed you’d been planning on napping in before his impromptu return through the open window. “Come hold me while I nap,” you say, moving back his sheets, “please. And maybe I’ll think about forgiving you.” You’re too tired to think about this in depth.
Peter throws himself into the mattress. You crawl into his arms.
“You kinda smell like street,” you mumble, nuzzling his neck, a hint of forgiveness to settle his bad nerves.
His head falls back as he lets out a relieved sigh. “You smell perfect,” he says.
Joel Miller was doing the best he can as a single dad, relying on his 'village' to raise his little girl after the sudden death of his wife. All was fine until his BabyGirl came home from her first day of school with a bruise on her arm, courtesy of the new girl in school.
WARNINGS: Enemy to Lovers, Secrets, Misunderstanding, Jealousy, Fluff, Pining, Loneliness, Helicopter Parenting, OverProtective Dad, Domestic Violence (Not Joel), More to add as story moves on.
MASTER LIST
Part 8
Disclaimer: I don't beta my work, and English is not my first language, so please excuse any errors.
“Daddy, you look so ham some,” Sarah said, running her fingers through her Daddy’s hair. “Your hair is nice.”
“Thank you Baby Girl,” Joel smiled, giving his daughter a kiss on the nose. He sat down on his bed, placing her on his knees.
“Are you okay with this, Sarah? With me going on a date?”
“Silly Daddy. Yes is okay, I like Auntie Annie, I like Ellie. I want you to go on a date with Auntie Annie.”
“So, tonight, you are going to stay with Uncle Tommy and Auntie Maria, okay?”
“With Ellie!”
“Yes,” he laughed, “With Ellie too.”
“You’ll behave yourself? You’ll call me if you need anything?”
“No, Uncle Tommy said I cannot call you. You need alone time with Auntie Annie,” she said, giving him a failed wink.
“What?”
“Uncle Tommy said Daddy is thirsty and you need to have alone time with Auntie Annie to feel better.”
Joel clenched his jaws. “He said that?”
Sarah nodded, giving him another failed wink.
He placed her back on the floor and told her to go get her bag. “Tommy!”
“What?” Tommy asked, peeking at him from the kitchen, a sandwich in his hands.
“What the fuck did you say to Sarah?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy said, a cheeky smirk on his face, taking another bite from his sandwich.
Joel got closer to his brother, lowering his voice, “You told her I was ‘thirsty’ and need alone time with Annie to feel better?”
Tommy raised his eyebrows, still munching on the sandwich.
“What the hell Tommy! She’s five!”
“And she doesn’t understand what that means. Why are you so uptight? You’re proving my point, Joel,” Tommy said, slapping his brother on the back, picking up the can of Coke he had opened and taking a few gulps.
Joel rolled his eyes. Damn it Tommy. As if he needed more things to be nervous about.
Sarah came out, wheeling her bag behind her.
“So uh, you got what you need?” Tommy asked, one of his brows up, looking at Joel as if he was talking in code.
“What do you mean?” Joel asked, checking his pockets for his phone and wallet, his eyes going to the bouquet of flowers he had picked up for you.
“You know,” Tommy said, pointing to him with his head.
Joel frowned.
“You know,” Tommy reiterated, this time pointing with his eyes.
“What?”
Tommy looked stressed out, pointing with both his head and eyes, gesturing at his crotch.
Oh. Oh…
What? No!
“Tommy it’s a first date,” he shout-whispered.
Tommy looked bewildered. “So?”
Joel went closer to him, whispering, “Listen here, you man whore, just because you used to sleep with every woman who would even look your way without bothering to know their names, doesn’t mean I should too! It’s a first date! You don’t sleep with someone on the first date!”
Tommy looked confused. “You don’t?”
Oh God.
“Stop fidgeting! You’re gonna make me smear the lipstick!” Maria chastised, taking a hold of your jaws and continued to apply lipstick on you.
“You look really pretty, Mama,” Ellie cooed, her hands framing her face as she laid on her stomach, propped up on her elbows on her bed, her legs swinging up behind her.
“Thank you sweetie,” you cooed right back, giving her a kiss.
You were wearing the dress she had suggested you put on for brunch last time. It was the only nice dress you owned, and both Ellie and Maria had managed to convince you that this was the right occasion to wear the dress.
Maria spritzed some perfume on you, her face all smiley.
There was a knock on the door.
Ellie jumped off the bed and ran out, opening the door. You could hear Joel’s voice greeting her, “Hey Ells.”
“Hey old man,” she replied, and you and Maria snickered.
You came out just in time to see them fist bump each other.
“Hi Joel,” Maria greeted.
“Hi Mar…” his voice faltered.
Joel Miller was staring at you, all words lost from his list of vocabulary. He was struggling to find the words to greet you. All he could think of was how beautiful you looked.
“Joel?” Maria called him out, smiling at him. “Hello? Mr Miller?”
Joel snapped out of his reveries.
“Mama looks pretty,” Ellie said.
“Yeah,” he finally found his voice. “She does,” he blubbered.
“A far cry from her work uniform, huh?” Maria chuckled. “Are those flowers for her?”
“Uh, yeah,” Joel stuttered, looking at the flowers as if he had just realized he was holding them. He thrusted his hand straight out towards Maria, offering her the flowers for whatever reason, looking like a boy who was returning something he stole, his eyes back on you.
“Joel?”
“Huh?”
“I’m not Annie,” Maria whispered.
He looked at his hands again, confused.
“Joel?”
“Yeah?”
“Give her the damn flowers!”
“Right! Uh, sorry!” he blurted out, laughing at himself. He walked towards you, “Sorry,” he muttered, looking so embarrassed. “This is for you,” he said, offering you the flowers.
“Thank you,” you said, feeling a bit shy from his gaze. “They’re beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” he heard himself say.
You didn’t even have the time process what he said. He was already blushing, laughing at himself. “Sorry, that was cheesy,” he said, his ears red.
“It’s okay,” you laughed.
“Here, let me take that,” Maria took the flowers from you, “You two better go, you don’t want to be late!”
Joel offered you his arm, and you took it. As he began to lead you you out, your nerves got the better of you and you found yourself giving Ellie last minute instructions about spending the night at Aunt Maria’s, reminding her to brush her teeth, to behave, to listen to Aunt Maria, to…
“Yes Mama, I will be nice, go!” she pushed you out.
“But…”
“Go Mama! Have fun!” Maria interrupted, picking your child up. “Yeah Mama, have fun!” Ellie parroted, waving.
Joel led you to his truck and went in himself. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in the truck, not speaking, both ridiculously shy and nervous.
“Okay, this is ridiculous. I’m just gonna say it. I’m nervous as fuck. I haven’t been on a date since forever. But I am really excited about this date. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he said.
“Oh good,” you said, breathing easier. “I’m not alone then.”
“No, definitely not.”
The two of you laughed, the nerves dissipating a little.
“You ready?” he asked, starting the truck.
You nodded.
“Okay, let’s go.”
After that awkward start, the date actually went well. He took you to an Italian restaurant, where you had the best mushroom risotto you had ever tasted. The two of you got to know each other a little, talking about everything except your late partners. Not the best time to talk about that, both of you agreed.
Every few minutes, your talks wandered into the subject of the girls, to which you both would catch yourselves and mutually decided to change the subject.
Other than that particular stumble, the date went swimmingly. In fact, it went so well that the two of you only stopped talking when the server placed the bill on the table. It was only then you realized that the entire restaurant was now empty, so empty that there were sections already closed off, the tables cleared and the chairs turned upside down on them, the lights in the sections switched off.
You put your hand on the bill, intending to split the check, but he covered your hand with his, eyeing you as if you’d just committed the biggest faux pas known to men. You didn’t have the chance to argue, he simply placed his card on the bill and handed it back to the server, not bothering to even check it.
He didn’t let go of your hand, tentatively eyeing you to make sure you were okay with it.
You were.
When you walked out of the restaurant, he laced his fingers with yours, walking so slowly to get to his truck. When you got there, he just stood there, hand still on yours, reluctant to let go.
“Joel?”
“Yeah?”
“Want to take a walk?”
The smile on his face then was contagious. So the two of you took a walk instead, continuing your conversations. Well, not really a conversation, he was giving you a tour of the place, telling you his favourite this and that, Sarah’s favourite doughnut place, Tommy’s favourite bar, Tess’s favourite hobby store, Daniel’s favourite toy store.
You listened. His voice was calming, to you. Whenever he was talking about someone or something he loved, there was a reverie in his tone that made you just feel… something.
The walk wasn’t enough. When it got a bit too cold to be walking about, he reluctantly led you back to the truck, and just before he turned the corner to your place, he asked if you felt up to a drive.
“I’m not ready to say goodnight,” he shyly admitted.
You happily admitted, neither were you.
So he took you on a drive instead, just driving around slowly, his hand not letting go of yours.
By the time he parked by your cottage, it was well near midnight. He walked you to your door, fingers still interlaced and waited for you to unlock your front door.
“Do I get a second date?” he asked when you turned to face him.
“I think you do,” you said, smiling.
“Phew!” he joked, pretending to wipe his forehead.
“I had a great time,” you told him, squeezing his hand.
“So did I,” he replied, taking both your hands in his. “Well, good night. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Okay.”
He leaned in and kissed you on your cheek, his lips lingering on your skin, making your eyes droop.
He withdrew a little and you couldn’t help but drop your eyes to his lips, knowing that he too, was looking at yours. He leaned back in, and your mind just screamed at you to stop him.
“Joel,” you said, pulling back a little. His eyes met yours, looking a bit panicked. “There’s something I need to tell you before this goes… anywhere… will you come inside?”
“Yeah,” he said, looking both relieved and apprehensive at the same time.
He lit the stove for you and sat on the daybed with you, both of you facing each other, legs crossed.
“I need to tell you about my late husband, Eric, and how he died.”
*Warning: Domestic Violence*
It all started small. He didn’t want to spend time with Ellie, so he mostly left you and Ellie at home, going to work functions and gatherings with his friends alone. People knew Officer Williams, knew he had a wife and daughter, but the three of you were hardly seen together.
There were a few times he took you and Ellie to the game, the pool, but Ellie fell asleep at the game and cried when her tiny feet touched the water, so he took the two of you home and huffed off to hang out with his buddies instead.
It got to the point that you were basically a single mother, going about your business alone with your daughter.
You had gotten so used to him not including you and Ellie in his life you didn’t even mind anymore. You had Ellie, and that was enough.
You remember the first time it happened. Ellie had just turned three. It was his day off. He had worked the night shift the night before, came home just in time for breakfast. He had his breakfast as usual and went to bed. You did your chores, got Ellie fed and dressed, and took her with you to do your weekly shopping. You even stopped at the park so Ellie could have a few minutes on the swing. You planned to deep clean the house that day, so you wouldn’t have the opportunity to take her in the evening.
You got home just in time to cook lunch, as you usually did. Eric would usually sleep ‘til about 3. But when you got home at 11.30, he was already dressed in his day clothes, waiting for you with his hands on his hips.
“Where were you?” he snarled just as the garage door closed, standing right next to your open door, not letting you out of the car.
“Grocery shopping,” you answered, confused.
“I called you so many times! Why didn’t you answer? I needed the car!”
“The phone is on silent – you know I do that when you sleep, and you usually sleep ‘til later. I didn’t think you’d call,” you defended yourself, your voice still soft. He would get so angry if you made a sound when he was asleep. He was a light sleeper, so even a beep of a text message became an annoyance when he was asleep. The house was small, so you’d resorted to just leaving the phone on silent when he was home and sleeping. “Plus, you usually use the cruiser when you go out,” you added, “Is there something wrong with it? I would have gotten home sooner if you’d told me you needed to use the car.”
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, you knew something bad was going to happen.
“What are you saying, huh? That I’m lazy? That I sleep all day? Well I’m sorry I stayed up all night working my ass off to support this family. And I’m sorry I woke up early to put a dampener in your day. And in case you forget, this is my fucking car. I bought this car, I paid for it. So I can damn well use it whenever the fuck I feel like it!” he spat.
“I’m not saying any of that, I just didn’t know you wanted to use the car…”
“Are you calling me a liar? Huh? It’s my fault you’re so fucking selfish that the world only revolves around you?”
“I didn’t say that, it’s just, we needed groceries, and you know I go shopping on Mondays…”
“Oh, I’m supposed to remember your schedule now?” he retaliated, putting his face to yours so suddenly you drew back. He wrapped a hand around your neck, holding you in place, “Don’t forget you live under my roof, spending my money. Don’t forget your place!” he seethed.
“No Papa!” Ellie yelled, her tiny little voice full of fear. “Mama!”
He turned towards her, “Shut up!” he yelled, turning back to face you, his hand still around your neck.
“You teaching her to think badly of me? Huh?”
“No, I would never,” you said, trying not to rile him up further. “Eric, honey, you’re scaring her,” you pleaded, your voice shaky but calm.
“You think I’m abusive now? I’m warning you, try my patience again, and see what happens,” he said, squeezing his hand slightly, a warning, before letting go and retreating. “Get out! Get her out! Take the fucking car seat with you. I need the car!”
You got out, got the groceries out and took Ellie out of the back seat, taking the seat out with you. He opened the garage door and shoved you out of the way by the face, his hand pressed up against your face so hard your neck creaked. Luckily, the garage was small, so you managed to lean against the wall to prevent from falling, holding Ellie so tightly the girl squeaked.
You stood there as he reversed the car and peeled off, shaking from the shock of it all.
When he came back to get ready for his shift, he didn’t say a word to you. And life went on as if nothing happened.
You knew right there and then.
You had to get away from him.
Before you met Eric, you were working at a clothing store, trying to save up money to go to nursing school. The other staff were all older than you, all married with children. One day one of the staff, Lucy, didn’t show, and when she finally came in two days later, she had remnants of a black eye on her. Obviously, everyone freaked out for her, but she kept insisting that he didn’t mean to do it. That he was drunk. That she had provoked him by insisting he eat something so he wouldn’t have a hangover the next day.
He shoved the entire bowl full of hash in her face.
And then he punched her.
He was so sorry, she said. He promised he would never do it again, she said. He’s the sweetest man in the world, she said.
You remember Edna, the manager, a kind lady in her 50s, gently taking Lucy by the shoulders and speaking to her in the most maternal voice you had ever heard. “Lucy, sweetheart, once a man realized how easy it is to shut you up with physical harm, they will never stop. They will escalate. Please don’t let this happen to you. Get out. This is not something you forgive, honey,” she had advised.
“He’s my husband,” Lucy said. “I can’t just get out. I’m dependent on him, it’s not like I make a lot of money here. What am I supposed to live on? Where am I supposed to go? Plus, you don’t know him like I do,” she defended him.
“Honey,” Edna said, taking her hands now, “I’m not saying every woman should do this, but now that this happened, even if it’s just once, even if he didn’t mean it, even if he’s sorry,” she said as Lucy opened her mouth to retaliate, “Get a ‘go bag’ just in case.”
“What’s a ‘go bag’?” you asked.
“A bag you can quickly grab and escape with. Essentials. Toothbrush, blanket, a change of clothes, documents, cash,” another staff explained. “It’s usually for emergencies like a fire or something, a ‘just in case’ bag. Women shelters and domestic violence advocates recommend women keep one at home. Particularly if they were battered women.”
The other ladies nodded, as if they all had one stashed away at home already. As if that was an ‘it goes without thinking’ thing everyone did.
Everyone could literally see Lucy bristle. You don’t know him, she said. How dare you say this about him. You haven’t walked a day in my shoes, she said. Stay out of my business, she said.
She quit five minutes later. Packed up her belongings and left.
She was found dead a little over a year later. Her body had so many burn marks, so many cuts and bruises, some healed, most not. The coroner said her arm was broken quite some time before her death and never healed properly, in fact, it was never reset.
Her husband had skipped town with some 18 year old he was cheating on her with. He didn’t even bother to take her to the hospital after beating the living crap out of her.
Edna’s words stayed with you. You needed to get out. He will do it again. It might have started with a hand wrapped around your neck, lightly squeezed, followed by a shove in the face, but that should be enough.
You couldn’t just leave. You didn’t have any money. You didn’t even have a bank account anymore. You were alone. Your parents were long gone, all you had was Maria. That fierce, fiery, childhood friend of yours was all you had. The one person you could rely on.
But you couldn’t tell her. She’s busy. She has her own life. Plus, she lived at the other end of the country. You shouldn’t bother her with this.
God only knew how she would react. After she shoved Missy Gilberts off the swings years ago for pushing you off it, despite not doing anything to defend herself when the bully taunted her relentlessly, you learnt just how protective your friend could be. What if she went too far and ‘shoved’ him? What if he retaliated against her? Harm her in any way? Her job? Her livelihood? Her life?
So you kept quiet and began preparing your exit.
You did small things, things you could do when Eric was at work. Did the neighbours’ laundry, mow their lawns, clean their houses, heck, you even tended to their gardens. Those were the things you could do, and the few who hired you were kind enough to keep the information from Eric. You told them you were planning a vacation for the family and wanted to earn the money yourself. You skimped and saved from the money he gave you weekly, counting every penny to make your goal. Just enough to get plane tickets for you and Ellie to get to Maria, and maybe a few extra dollars for a motel, just until you get a job.
To be honest, when a month went by without incident, you were starting to believe it was an isolated incident. You felt relieved, but kept working to put the money away, realizing that should anything happen, you had no way out. You needed to at least get your ‘go bag’ ready.
A month later, almost to the day, it happened.
He was at work. Ellie was perched up on the kitchen counter, helping you make cookies. A bowl of chocolate cubes next to her. She was pressing a cube into each cookie dough you balled up and placed on a tray with parchment paper. She was having the time of her life, purposely getting her fingers sticky with the soft chocolate and cookie dough, licking and sucking them delightfully between each cookie.
You tickled her, naughty girl, you teased her. Now all the cookies are soiled with your saliva, you joked, tickling her. She squealed, squirming away from your tickling fingers, her laughter ringing true and clear around the house.
The front door slammed shut. So hard, so loud the kitchen vibrated. Ellie jumped, shocked, her hands accidentally swiping the bowl of chocolates. It fell with a crash on the kitchen floor, shattering into a million pieces.
“Stay where you are sweetie, there’s glass on the floor,” you warned.
Eric was standing in front of the door, the house now weirdly quiet. His eyes were closed, his neck taut. He took a deep, calming breath, as if he was on his last nerves before he spoke. And when he did, his voice was so calm it was eerie.
“You think money grows on trees, Ellie? Why did you break the bowl?” he asked, taking slow, deliberate steps towards the kitchen, his heavy work boots echoing.
“Eric, she didn’t mean to, she was shocked, you slammed the door,” you defended your daughter.
“Oh, it’s my fault now, is it?”
“I didn’t say that…”
“So what are you trying to say?”
“It was an accident, she didn’t do it on purpose.”
“And you,” he said, his steps taking him closer and closer, “Why the fuck would you use a glass bowl within her reach? Hmm? You think that bowl is free? Snap your fingers and another will appear?” he asked, snapping his fingers, his boots crunching on the broken glass on the floor.
Before you could answer, your face exploded, and you fell to the floor, the broken glass cutting into your right arm, leg and hip. You heard Ellie scream your name in high pitch, her voice immediately breaking into a cry. You held your left hand up, telling her you were okay, that she should stay where she was, that she shouldn’t move.
You heard his heavy boots move away, and then coming back, before a broom and a scooper fell before you. You looked and saw him retreating to the bedroom, “Clean the fucking mess, and I’d better not see a drop of blood left on the fucking floor!” he barked.
He had slapped you so hard you flew off your feet, one of your house slippers flying off your feet. Your left ear was ringing, your left eye felt as if it had popped out of its socket, the left side of your face red hot from the sting.
You got up, stepping gingerly where you don’t see any chunks of glass through your blurry sight – whether it be from your tears or the confusion and shock of it all, you didn’t know – picked up the broom and scooper, put your slipper back on, brushed the glass shards that stuck to your arm and began sweeping so your daughter wouldn’t accidentally step on glass.
You pushed through the pain and vacuumed the floor and mopped the entire kitchen just in case before picking your daughter up and bringing her to the living room. She wouldn’t let go, wrapping her arms around your neck so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t stop crying, her shaking, sobbing body melded into your own shaky one, still in disbelief.
Eric came back out, showered and changed, rolling his eyes at the sight of the two of you. He grabbed your face tightly, turning it to see your left cheek, now starting to swell. He eyed the cuts on your person, the blood leaking from your wounds did not go unnoticed.
“Clean yourself up. You’d better not waste my insurance on this. Good luck explaining the injuries. Don’t forget, the whole town knows me. Tell anyone, see if they believe you. Report it, see whose side they will take. And don’t leave the house until you heal. If I hear about this from anyone else, you’ll be sorry,” he warned, a finger pointed at your face.
“And you, stop crying. Don’t be such a girl,” he sneered at your crying daughter. With that, he picked up his keys and left the house, slamming the door behind him.
You waited until you heard your car drive away before taking Ellie to the bathroom, sitting her on the toilet before tending to your wounds. Your little girl, your three year old, helped without saying anything, quiet sobs accompanying her tiny hands gently rubbing iodine and antibiotics onto your cuts, lips wobbling every time you hissed in pain.
It wasn’t until the two of you were cuddled up in bed, a pack of frozen peas on your left cheek, that she spoke.
“I’m sorry I break bowl Mama,” she sniffled.
“Hey,” you pulled away to look her in the eyes. She refused to let you go, burying her face in your chest. “Oh, sweetie, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Papa hit you. Because I break bowl,” her sniffles turned into sobs. “I’m sorry Mama,” she cried.
“Sweetie,” you cooed, “Your Papa didn’t hit me because of you. It’s not your fault,” you hugged her tightly, rubbing her back as she sobbed into your chest.
“Yes he hit you because I break bowl,” she reiterated. “Last time he push you because I want to swing,” she continued, and her sobs quickly turned into a wail.
“No, sweetie, no… he didn’t… please don’t blame yourself for this. Please sweetheart, don’t,” you coaxed, trying hard not to let her hear your own breaking voice.
She cried herself to sleep in your arms. You lay there, stroking her hair, wondering how your life turned into this nightmare.
He had done it again. He escalated. Injured you. Even warned you not to go get treatment.
You knew then that even if you walked into the PD with half your face torn off, no one would believe you. He was a cop. A great one, apparently. Kindest of them all. So sweet. So dedicated. Who would believe him to be a wife beater?
The number of times you had run into other officers while going about your days where they recognize you from when he used to take you to events (pre Ellie), telling them how much he talked about you and Ellie, how much he adored his little family, it was all so sweet and adorable.
He made himself out to be the best family man to have ever existed.
Who would believe you? No one.
You kept putting money aside. All your important documents, Ellie’s, were all in an envelope, placed in a gym bag you hid in the kitchen cabinet. He would never look there. It was going to take a while for you to get to your goal, but you were not going to stop. This wasn’t just about you anymore. You were worried he was going to start hurting Ellie. You needed to leave.
Over the next year, he kept at it. The slightest dissatisfaction would earn you a slap at the very least. Being shoved up against the wall was a norm, a hand around the throat? Just another day.
The first time he punched you, your face swelled up so badly he didn’t let you out of the house for two whole weeks. He got the groceries himself. Of course, he made a huge deal about it to his friends and colleagues, how Ellie had the chicken pox, and just as she got better, you came down with a bad cold, so he was being the dutiful husband to make sure the household ran smoothly. Such a sweet man.
It was such an inconvenience for him, having to stop in the middle of his shift to get groceries and spending his days off doing the yard work, he didn’t punch you again. Open palm and hard shoves only. He was careful. No one could ever see the marks.
Until that day.
“Sorry,” you told Joel, “I think I’m up to my limits for today.”
His eyes were soft, tears brimming in them. His hands were still on yours, squeezing gently, trying his best to reassure you that all that was behind you. That you never had to worry about that ever again.
“Joel…” you said, your tears starting to pool, “You haven’t heard everything…”
“It’s okay, I know… I’m just saying that if this goes well,” he said, raising his pointer finger to point at the two of you, “You never have to worry about being treated that way ever again. I would never…”
“I know,” you whispered. “What I’m trying to say is, there are other things that happened, things that I’m not prepared to relive… and in order to tell you, I have to relive them, and I don’t think I should take this further until I do, until you have the chance to know everything and decide for yourself if you want to deal with this.”
He squeezed your hands again, nodding. “Okay,” he said, lifting your hands and kissing them. “But you need to give me a chance to keep trying. I like you, and I’d like to get to know you more. The past is past, I mean, if you can forgive me for yelling at you in the school yard…”
He suddenly stopped talking, his expression changed. There was a horrific look of realisation replacing the earnestness he was sporting mere moments before. He let go of your hands, closed his eyes and rubbed his face. When he finally looked at you again, he looked so remorseful you wanted to comfort him.
He took a very deep breath, “Did you feel threatened by me? Did I make you feel that I might attack you?”
He genuinely looked like he was about to cry. You wanted so badly to comfort him, but nothing came out of your mouth. His face fell. You could tell that he wanted to make you feel better, wanted to comfort you, but he was frozen. He didn’t dare move, lest he frightened you. His fingers, now on his lap, twitched, like he wanted to reach out, but stayed where they were.
“Hey,” you said, reaching out to him instead. The moment your hands touched his, he let out a huge breath of relief, his fingers immediately wrapping around yours. “It’s okay, you didn’t know.”
“No, Annie, it’s not okay. I’m so sorry,” he said. He inched forward, getting closer to you, “I swear I was never going to hit you. I would never do that. My Dad, he used to beat me and Tommy when we were kids. He didn’t do it without reason, more of a punishment, and as far as I know he never beat my Mom, but I swore to never do that to anyone, certainly not a woman I like.”
You smiled, “I know, at least, I do now.”
“I’m so sorry,” he said, moving to hug you.
You let him.
And somehow, the two of you ended up falling asleep, fully clothed, in the comfort of each other’s arms.
Green Cove Springs Community Forum
Question by: aspiringauthor334223
Greetings residents of Green Cove Springs.
I am a final year student majoring in journalism. I am currently writing my dissertation titled ‘Narratives of crime in small-town journalism: A media studies approach’ as part of the completion of my degree.
In doing this, I have selected a few small towns (population <10000) across the United States and am studying how one case is reported by the local media, namely how accurate the crimes were being reported.
Obviously, I have access to the media via the internet. I do, however, need to interview a few locals who might know about the cases involved for more details, particularly those that might have been kept out by the media or sensationalized as clickbait.
The case I have in mind for this lovely town is the murder of Officer Eric Williams.
Please do not hesitate to DM me should you have information pertaining this sad case.
Thank you.
gcsresident1778: Dear aspiringauthor334223.
gcsresident1778: I regret to inform you that if that is the case you were hoping to research on, you might find a dead end.
gcsresident1778: Officer William’s death shocked our community. He was a nice guy, always so friendly and helpful. To hear he was killed in his own home, in an invasion at that, was beyond shocking. This is a safe town. It was so sad to learn that he had died protecting his wife and child. The media outlets did report on the case, obviously. But if you had done your research, you will have known that the manner of his death was deemed suspicious when a new witness came forward. You may also know that his wife, who was seriously injured in the attack, became the main suspect due to the new testimony.
gcsresident1778: However, if you searched further, you will find that the case was closed almost immediately. In fact, it is now sealed. You will not find any information on that case any further than what you have found. The media just stopped reporting the case, and his death was ruled as accidental. Nothing more was mentioned after.
gcsresident1778: His wife was taken off the suspect list and she and her daughter left town not long after. It is not known where they are now.
gcsresident1778: I think you would be better off if you chose another case to study instead.
aspiringauthor334223: Thank you for your response.
aspiringauthor334223: Actually, the sudden end to the reporting factors in my interest towards the case. Do you know of anyone I can contact for more details? A family member? Neighbours? Friends?
gcsresident1778: I suppose I can see why the abrupt end to the case would be of interest to you from a journalistic point of view.
gcsresident1778: Unfortunately, I don’t know of anyone you can contact who was close enough to the family, they were rather private, especially the wife and child. The only reason Officer Williams was known to us was because of his duties and proximity to the townsfolk.
gcsresident1778: I would suggest you contact his former patrol partner, but she has since transferred out of town. I don’t know where though, and we were not acquaintances at all so I do not know how you could contact her.
aspiringauthor334223: I could try that, do you know her name?
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃mdni: Luffy keeps staring at you ever since you stepped your foot on Sunny.
Luffy x fem!Reader one shot smut.
Help me tag the artist please :) I found the art on Pin.
// cw: shy reader, reader stutters a lot, light dom/sub, body worship, oral (fem receive), nipple play, creampie, praising kink, p in v
wc: 3.2k
× originally posted on ao3 ×
On a relaxing day, the crew decided to make a stop at a nearby island to buy some supplies as they were running out of food stock. So, you were elated as this was the chance where you got to go shopping with Nami and Robin. You were so ready to buy a lot of stuff, especially clothes, because you were trying to improve your fashion sense, and the two girls, whom you already saw them as your sisters decided to help you.
Truth to be told, your fashion sense wasn't bad at all. Even your simplest outfits had a habit of turning heads, drawing a lingering looks from head-to-toe, including your own crew members, especially Luffy.
Ever since you joined the crew, Luffy couldn't stop checking you out. You would feel his eyes on you wherever you went or whatever you did and he wouldn't even bother to make it discreet, it was as if he was fucking you with his eyes, and you would feel it. He also gave you a nickname, which was Angel, and when you asked why, he said it was because your presence attracted him.
God, couldn't you remember how red your face was at his answer.
It wasn't that you weren't attracted to him, you were, only god knew how frequently you tried not to rub your thighs together. But every time he put his eyes on you, you would feel nervous. You would squirm and even falter, and he loved it. He loved watching you being all uneasy just from his gaze, it made his cock twitch, imagining what it would be like if he could pin you underneath him and hear your whining in desperation for his length to abuse your sweet cunt.
Maybe it wasn't the outfit. Maybe it was your beauty that made you look like a beacon in everything you wore. You could wear a torn shirt or a very bad-looking design outfit and yet he would still glue his sight on you like you were the only thing visible in this world. The others noticed about Luffy and would tease the two of you, but he didn't care, because those teasing remarks made you become more shy and he loved that.
Nami and Robin had just left the room to take a bath and you were the first to get ready early as you were overjoyed by the thought of having a girls' day. You wore a casual outfit; a black and pink striped, oversized sweater with a denim short skirt and black thigh-high socks. Your hair was clipped with a hair claw, some strands falling around your face. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, feeling amused by how good you were looking.
Suddenly, the door was slammed open, causing you to startle, your hands hugging your chest.
"Luffy! You can't just barge into a girl's room without knocking first!" you scolded him.
To your second surprise, Luffy was shirtless and only had his blue shorts on him, his straw hat, dangling against his shoulder blades. Sure, he always wore his shirt unbuttoned enough to exposed his abs, but seeing him entirely bare from waist up was different.
"Why not?" he whined, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.
"What do you mean "why not"? What if I was naked or in an indecent state?"
"Well that would be a bonus then!" A wide grin plastered on his face as he giggled. Baffled by his response, your arms drop to your sides, one of your hands fidgeting the hem of your skirt.
"Wha– what do you mean?" you stammered. Luffy locked his eyes on you when he finally entered your shared room and closed the door, locking it behind him.
"C'mon Angel, you know what I mean." He walked forward to get closer to you slowly, but you stepped backwards until you sat on the bed. He was now standing in front of your small frame, towering over you and you tilted your head up hesitantly to look at him.
"No– Luffy, I don't– I can't—" Curse him for calling the butterflies to fly around your stomach. You veered your gaze from him but his hand reached out to cup your jaw softly, directing you to keep your eyes on his. He cocked his brow and bent down to draw closer to your face.
"Angel, why do you think I keep staring at you? Hm?" The serious tone in his voice paired with how intoxicatingly close he was made you feel twice as nervous. You didn't remember the room feeling hot, it was usually on a comfortable, chill temperature. A faint bead of sweat were breaking out along your hairline.
"Luffy, I don't— I— please—" you huffed, completely giving yourself up on talking any further as you let him take the victory. Your edginess made him smile as he thought you looked adorable being weak under his touch. He tilted his head to the side, deliberately scanning the outfit you were wearing, then met your gaze again.
"You look cute, Angel!" he beamed. "This is why my vision is always stuck on your existence, because you just look so pretty in everything and I had to undress you with my eyes every time just to see the real beauty underneath it,"
As he muttered, his body motioned forward, his weight pressing into the bed and forcing you to lean back until you were flat on your back against the mattress. Luffy crawled over you, his arms planting themselves on either side of your head, caging you to the bed.
Your legs were slightly parted as his knee slid up in between your thighs, it almost made contact with your heated core. You trailed his body slowly with your eyes; chiseled abs, sculpted pecs and ripped arms. God how seducing was he. Not to mention his good-looking face, and despite the big X-shaped scar on his chest, he still looked like he was built by a lust devil.
Your heart hammered so violently you felt like it could explode at any moment. But before you could catch your breath, Luffy crashed his lips against yours, pulling a desperate moan right out from your throat. Your hands traced his broad back, sending shivers down his spine while he dived inside your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours, trading saliva and moans with each other.
His knee nudged your clothed pussy and you took the chance to lightly grind against it, hoping to not make it obvious that you were desperate to find some relief for your needy cunt. A soft whine escaped your lips when he pulled away to attack your neck with his mouth next, a mix of your and his saliva drooling down your jaw.
"Luffy, I can't— we can't— Nami and Robin will be here soon. You know they're taking a bath right?" you murmured in between your moans as he was marking you with his lovebites.
"Mmm it will be quick, I promise." He lifted his head from your neck. "Plus, I'm the captain, are you going to disobey your captain's orders, Angel?" he asked in a tone that sounded more like a command for you to follow than genuine curiosity.
"But, Luffy– It doesn't– I– oh my god." You closed your eyes and covered your face with your hands, huffing out a frustrated sigh.
Luffy chuckled at your helplessness, "You're so cute, Angel! Now just relax and let me taste you, I'll make it quick I promise!" He got up and sat on his heels, his hands travelling softly from your knees to under your skirt, grabbing the waist of your panties and taking them off. He took a look at your underwear like he was examining something.
"Look!" He stretched the fabric of your panties to show you a spot that was drenched with your natural lube. Your face was already flushed red when your pussy was exposed to him, but now it couldn't go any redder when he pointed out the evidence of your arousal. He giggled and shove them inside the pocket of his shorts.
You knitted your eyebrows, "Luffy, what are you doing? Just put them aside, you don't have to put it inside your pocket."
"Mmm nope, I'm gonna keep it to myself. Captain's order." He winked at you and moved to adjust his face in between your legs. You were too speechless to fight back when he used his captain privilege.
Luffy flipped your skirt to your stomach, exposing your fully bare pussy that was dripping wet from all the intense moments you had with him earlier, which made his smile to spread wider across his face.
"I knew your pussy would look as cute as you," he said.
You closed your eyes to avoid looking at him any further in adulation, but they flew wide open the second you felt his tongue lick in between your drooling cunt.
He was making out with your core, absorbing your pussy with his tongue slammed against your bundle of nerves. The room was filled with your moans and wet smacking noises coming from his work as his spit was mixed with your ooze.
Your back arched in attempt to grind onto his face, but he had his hands grasping your thighs, pressing you firmly into the bed so he can devour you properly.
"Luffy! Aah!— Luffy, don't stop please..." you whimpered, biting your lips to avoid making loud moans, worrying if the others would hear you.
Soft moans came from him as he was charmed by your body reacting to him satisfying your lust with his mouth. Since you were unable to move from his strong hold of your legs, you gripped a handful of his hair and pulled him to dive deeper into you, mostly trying to get him to suck your bud. He sunk lower, punishing your hole and your clit harder and harder, rushing the adrenaline inside your veins.
You could feel your orgasm was close when your belly tightened, but to your disappointment, Luffy stopped. He knew you were close because your thighs were clenching his head, yet he didn't want you to cum, simply because he wanted you to see you being voracious for him.
Your grip on his hair loosened and you peered between your legs to see him planting a kiss on your inner thigh, his chin was dripping mess from the mixed fluids.
"Why'd you stop? I– I was close," you spoke breathlessly, trying to catch your breath at the same time.
"I know, but it's not fun if you don't beg me to make you cum." He crawled up to you again, locking his eyes on yours. "Beg me to make you cum, Angel," he commanded while his hand reaching the hem of your sweater, pulling it off over your head and throwing it somewhere on the floor, his gaze remained still on yours.
"Luffy... Please..." you pleaded, you couldn't hold it any longer as your body was aching to orgasm. He then removed your bra, exposing your hard nipples that were begging to be sucked. You were only left with your skirt.
"Please what, Angel? Say it, I want to hear you say it full," he expressed before fondling one of your tits with his fingers and sponging the other with his mouth gently.
"Luffy– ah! Luffy, make me– make me cum please..." your whining sounded needy enough to make someone say yes to you, but not to Luffy. He was playing with your tits gently at first but now you felt him biting your nipple with his teeth, while pinching the other roughly, inflicting a sharp sting of pain as a sign that your begging wasn't good enough.
"Luffy! Luffy make me cum please! Please– Aah mhmm! Make me cum please, please captain I need it! I wanna cum!" His impact on your tits was pleasurable, yet painful at the same time. He smiled when his ears were satisfied with what he wanted to hear, he stopped and pulled himself up to spot your face. Your eyes glistened with tears from the torment.
"That's more like it! wasn't so hard was it?" he giggled and kissed your lips before getting off from the bed, taking off his straw hat along with his shorts. You saw his big cock sprung out, his flushed tip leaking with precum, seeking a dose of relief.
Your expression looked calm, but your inner feeling was overthinking if that size could fit inside you or not. He was thick and long, with veins that were trailing along his shaft popping out.
The mattress once again descended when he climbed over to your body, colliding his lips with yours while he align his member to your entrance with one hand. A gasp escaped your throat when he pushed his full length all the way in, filling you to the brim with one smooth thrust, your gummy walls were tight around his member, resulting him to breathe shakily as your cunt coating his cock with your natural lube.
"Are you okay, Angel? Can I move now?" he purred, making sure you were comfortable first before wanting to unleash his craving to pound your hole aggresively. You bit your lip and nodded, giving him the greenlight.
Luffy pulled away, sitting on his heels to raise your legs, prompting them onto his shoulders, then pinned your wrists above your head. His hips moved gently at first, but then increased the pace slowly until the room was stuffed with moanings and slapping sound that came from his balls smacking your ass in each thrust.
His tip stabbed your g-spot, making you moan every time it hit deeply inside you. It was as if his cock was destined for your pussy.
"You're so tight– nghm–" he grunted, his free hand tracing your neck, moving down softly to your breasts and stomach, worshipping every inch of your flesh. He pressed your belly down, making sure you feel every inch of his veins pumping inside you. "So beautiful too, exactly like how I imagined it..." he breathed.
Oh how satisfying and honourable was he finally getting to unravel what he had been praying every night; your perfect nude and you getting pinned underneath him with his fat cock abusing your desperate little cunt.
"Luffy– ahh! feels– so good oh god..." Your eyes crossed the moment he compressed your stomach as the pleasure he was providing you was phenomenal, feeling like your soul was being transferred into another dimension. The satiety of his cock was sucking the soul out of you, making you feel lightheaded, and the contractions of your walls were overwhelming you.
"Yeah? Are– ahh.. Are you enjoying this, Angel?" Luffy's voice was trembling as your velvet flesh was taunting him. You were too drunk into the world of pleasure that your mouth couldn't speak anymore out of the intoxicating sensations. So you just nod and moaned as your response to him.
The lewd sound of flesh smacking flesh along with his sensual groans that was overflowing from his throat were a pleasurable music to your ears. The noises of the bed squeaking and the headboard hitting the wooden walls were the only sounds that could help cover up the clatters of your intense activity with Luffy, yet that still wouldn't make it any good.
The crew was probably going to ask later if any of them heard, but you hoped they wouldn't and would ignore it.
The pressure of his hips slapping against your ass were getting more and more ruthless as he was chasing his and your orgasms. Luffy's hand that was pressing your stomach, moved down to your clit, stroking them aggressively in circulation, which made you to feel overstimulated with his cock thrusting roughly inside you.
Your moans were getting louder and louder the second he had his thumb on your clit, causing his mouth to stretch into a mischievous smile as he found the spot.
"You really are an angel," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you and swallowing every whimpers and moans from your throat.
The end of a tremendous climax was getting nearer as you felt your abdomen tying a knot and your breath was stranding, fluttering weakly in your throat. Luffy's groans were getting rougher and deeper when your walls clenched around him tightly, signaling him that you were about to reach your climax, and so was his, as you felt his cock twitched in you.
"Luffy I'm gonna– I wanna cum... Please..."
"Cum with me, Angel... And keep your eyes on me while you cum." His voice was as deep as his length burying your insides. "I wanna— ahh fuck... I wanna see how gorgeous you look while you cum on my cock."
The way he was talking to you made you feel like you were possessed by a soul that was meant to serve the lust god. His raspy voice, pairing with his moans and grunts were shifting your essence into a whole new universe.
Constellations of stars appeared behind your lids as the bond inside you was fractured. The climax rushed pleasure through your veins, causing your toes to curl and your back arched with your mouth hung open as a long, shaky yet alluring moan escaped.
You tried your best to keep eye contact with Luffy, who groaned like he was in pain when his thick, hot cum squirted all over your walls that were clenching so tightly around his cock, concealing it white.
After giving a few more thrust to chase the highs, Luffy pulled out his length slowly from your bullied cunt, causing you to hiss when his tip slipped right out. Your hole overflowed with his cum, leaking down to your ass.
He let go of your wrists that were already bruised from his rigid grasp earlier, it made both of your arms too numb to move. His eyes were half lidded as his weight collapsed onto your body, your legs slumping down to the bed from his broad shoulders after the intense orgasm had struck your whole body.
Luffy caught his breath for a brief moment before he picked himself up again and planted a big kiss to both of your cheeks like a gift for you for making his dreams came true. He brushed your messy hair behind your ears to examine your face better.
"You look prettier like this, Angel." He smiled and gave you one last kiss on your lips before getting off from the bed and wore back his shorts along with his straw hat.
"Anyway, that was fun! Let's do it again soon! Oh and don't forget to buy the pills, bye Angel!" He giggled, leaving the room quickly before Nami and Robin get back.
After the door closed, you shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before they flung wide open when your brain registered his words about pills.
"He came inside me?!" you talked to yourself as you didn't realise he had breed you. You sat up quickly and lifted your skirt, witnessing the evidence soaking into the sheets. "Oh my fuck."
The sex really was too good.
Thank you for reading, reblog and likes are very much appreciated <3
tags ; established relationship / fluff / mutual pining / soft zoro, quiet / first kiss / slow burn / hand holding
requested ; me again! feel free not to do this since i just submitted an ask but maybe this could be a continuation of the one you just did for me... i'm always seeing pictures of the tree swing on the thousand sunny and it's hardly used. reader being pushed on the swing by zoro and maybe share a kiss
a/n: i yearn to swing in the sunny's swing... this is part two of my previous zoro fic named "almost enough." though, you can read this without reading the latter
the thousand sunny was quiet.
the ship creaks gently beneath your feet, the sails rustle overhead, and somewhere below deck, something shifts with a dull thump.
everyone else had gone exploring the island shortly after docking.
luffy had practically sprinted toward the nearest food stall.
nami and robin wanted to look around the marketplace.
sanji volunteered to carry their bags.
usopp and chopper disappeared after hearing rumors about some kind of festival.
franky and brook went with them.
even jinbe had decided to wander around.
which left you and zoro behind.
"we're guarding the ship."
that's what zoro had said.
you'd raised an eyebrow.
"you're guarding the ship."
"same thing."
you'd laughed.
"right."
now, nearly an hour later, you're sitting beneath the shade of one of the trees on the sunny.
more specifically, you're sitting on the swing.
the crew doesn't use it much.
it's tucked toward the side of the deck, beneath thick branches that stretch over the railing. the wooden seat has been polished smooth by years of weather and neglect, the ropes slightly worn but sturdy.
you've always liked it.
there's something peaceful about it.
you push yourself gently with your feet.
the swing moves forward.
then back.
forward.
back.
the island stretches beyond the ship, bright and warm beneath the afternoon sun.
you can hear distant music from the town.
"you look comfortable."
you glance over your shoulder.
zoro is standing a few feet away.
his arms are crossed.
"i am."
"thought you were gonna fall asleep."
"maybe."
he grunts.
then walks closer.
you expect him to sit down somewhere nearby.
instead, he reaches for the ropes.
"what are you doing?"
"move."
"...what?"
"you heard me."
you blink.
"zoro."
"move forward."
"why?"
"because you're barely moving."
you stare at him.
"...you want to push me?"
he looks away.
"apparently."
your smile grows.
"that's cute."
"don't make it weird."
"i didn't say anything."
"your face did."
you laugh.
then settle back against the swing.
"okay."
his hands close around the ropes.
he gives you a gentle push.
the swing moves forward.
your feet lift from the deck.
the breeze brushes against your face.
you smile.
"again."
another push.
slightly stronger this time.
you laugh.
the sound carries across the empty deck.
zoro watches you.
you don't notice at first.
you're too busy enjoying the feeling.
forward.
back.
forward.
back.
the ropes creak softly above you.
"faster."
"you're gonna fly off."
"i won't."
"that's what people say before they fly off."
"you're supposed to catch me."
he pauses.
"..."
you glance back.
"right?"
he gives you an unimpressed look.
"yeah."
but his hands tighten around the ropes.
and when he pushes you again, he's more careful.
you grin.
"see? you care."
"shut up."
"you do."
"i'm trying not to let you crack your head open."
"same thing."
"not even close."
you laugh again.
eventually, the rhythm becomes almost hypnotic.
zoro doesn't say much.
he doesn't need to.
you don't either.
there's something comforting about being around him when neither of you feels the need to fill every silence.
the island sounds distant.
the sea glitters beyond the railing.
the afternoon sun warms your skin.
and every time the swing moves backward, you catch a glimpse of him.
green hair.
scarred chest.
steady hands.
that familiar expression that always seems vaguely annoyed, even when he's being gentle.
you wonder how long you've been looking at him.
long enough, apparently.
because he says,
"you're staring."
you immediately look forward.
"i wasn't."
"you were."
"prove it."
"don't need to."
"...annoying."
"you like it."
you smile.
"...maybe."
his hands still.
the swing slows.
you look over your shoulder.
"why'd you stop?"
"you were distracting me."
your heart gives a stupid little jump.
"...oh."
he looks away.
"forget it."
"no."
you turn slightly in the seat.
"what did you mean?"
"nothing."
"zoro."
"you're annoying."
"you already said that."
"then stop asking."
you laugh softly.
the swing comes to a complete stop.
zoro rests one hand against the rope.
you look at him.
he looks at you.
neither of you moves.
"...you know," you say quietly, "i like this."
"the swing?"
"this."
you gesture vaguely between the two of you.
"being alone."
his expression softens.
just slightly.
"yeah."
"...you do?"
"i wouldn't be here if i didn't."
you smile.
"that's a very zoro answer."
"what's that supposed to mean?"
"it means you make everything sound like it's obvious."
"usually is."
you look down at your hands.
"not to me."
he waits.
you take a breath.
"sometimes i still wonder if i'm too much."
his expression changes immediately.
not dramatically.
just enough.
"we talked about this."
"i know."
"then stop."
you laugh nervously.
"i'm trying."
"try harder."
"wow. great advice."
he rolls his eyes.
you smile.
then your expression softens.
"it's just..."
you rub your thumb against the green bracelet around your wrist.
the one he gave you.
"i really like things like this."
"the bracelet?"
"that too."
you look at him.
"i mean... being close."
his eyes drop briefly to your hands.
"holding hands."
you pause.
"being pushed on a swing."
a tiny smile pulls at your mouth.
"having someone remember little things."
he doesn't answer.
you swallow.
"i know it's not everyone's thing."
"mine is."
your breath catches.
"...what?"
"yours."
he says it like it's obvious.
"i don't mind it."
your heart starts beating faster.
"you don't?"
"no."
"...why?"
he looks at you for a long moment.
"because it's you."
the world seems to quiet.
even the sea sounds farther away.
you stare at him.
"...that's a dangerous thing to say to someone who likes you."
his eyebrows lift.
"...likes me?"
you freeze.
oh.
you said that out loud.
"i..."
there's no recovering from it.
you cover your face.
"forget i said that."
"no."
"please."
"no."
"zoro."
he steps closer.
you peek between your fingers.
he's smiling.
barely.
but he's smiling.
"you like me?"
he was silent.
you lower your hands.
"...yes."
your voice is tiny.
"i do."
he doesn't laugh.
doesn't tease you.
doesn't look uncomfortable.
instead, he sits on the edge of the swing's wooden seat.
close enough that your knees touch.
"...good."
you blink.
"good?"
"yeah."
"that's all you're gonna say?"
"what do you want me to say?"
"i don't know!"
he chuckles.
quietly.
then his hand finds yours.
you go still.
his fingers slide between yours.
slowly.
carefully.
like he's giving you every opportunity to pull away.
you don't.
you squeeze his hand.
he squeezes back.
"...i like you too."
your chest feels warm.
"you do?"
"been pretty obvious."
"to who?"
"everyone except you."
you laugh.
"that's mean."
"true, though."
you lean your shoulder against his.
he doesn't move away.
instead, he rests his head lightly against yours.
for a while, neither of you says anything.
you just sit there.
holding hands.
the swing sways slightly beneath you.
"zoro?"
"hm?"
"...can i ask you something?"
"you've been doing that all day."
you smile.
"can i?"
"...yeah."
you hesitate.
"can i kiss you?"
he goes quiet.
not because he's uncomfortable.
because, apparently, he wasn't expecting you to ask.
his ears turn faintly pink.
"...yeah."
your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.
you turn toward him.
he turns too.
for a second, neither of you moves.
you've imagined this before.
probably more times than you'd ever admit.
but the reality is much quieter.
much softer.
zoro's hand is still wrapped around yours.
his other hand rests against the side of the swing.
you lean closer.
he meets you halfway.
the kiss is brief.
gentle.
barely more than a few seconds.
but when you pull away, you can't stop smiling.
neither can he.
you laugh quietly.
"that was nice."
"yeah."
"you're blushing."
"you're imagining things."
"your ears are red."
"shut up."
you grin.
then lean your forehead against his.
"...can we do it again?"
he sighs.
"you're greedy."
"you like me."
"...yeah."
his thumb brushes over your knuckles.
"...i do."
this time, when you kiss him, you don't feel like you're asking for too much.
you don't feel like you're too clingy.
you don't feel like you're taking up too much space.
because his hand is still holding yours.
and when the swing begins moving again, it's because zoro has gently pushed it with one foot.
you laugh.
"you pushed me."
"you said you wanted to swing."
"i did."
"then swing."
you settle back against the seat.
he stays beside you.
his hand never leaves yours.
the two of you drift gently beneath the tree, hidden from the rest of the world.
for once, you don't worry about whether you're too much.
you just let yourself be happy.
and zoro lets you.
this fic is written by @qwehwa 2026 / please do not feed any of my work into ai, copy, plagiarize, nor translate them into any other language— i will snap your neck.
Summary: “I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you and also that I’m pregnant.”
Song: ALL MINE - Brent Faiyaz
Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
The wind off the East Blue sea was warm, smelling faintly of salt, wild grass, and the lingering residue of cheap port wine. It was a lazy afternoon on the deck of the Red Force, the kind of afternoon where the entire crew usually collapsed into a drunken, sun-drenched stupor. But today, the deck was unnaturally quiet.
Or rather, it was quiet in a way that made your skin prickle.
You stood by the ship’s railing, your fingers lightly tracing the weathered wood. Across the deck, sitting on an upturned barrel with his legs crossed and his straw hat tilted down to shield his eyes from the glare, was Shanks.
He looked entirely at ease. A half-empty bottle of sake dangled loosely from one scarred hand, his iconic red cloak draped casually over his broad shoulders, and his infamous, terrifying aura of a Yonko completely tucked away, leaving only the disarming, lopsided charm of a man who just wanted a nap.
For months, you had rehearsed this. You had practiced it in the privacy of your hammock under the pale glow of a lantern. You had muttered it to the crashing waves while leaning over the bow in the dead of night. You had tried every dramatic variation, every witty retort, every casual, nonchalant delivery imaginable.
None of it mattered now. The reality of it was pressing against your ribs, heavy and undeniable, and the silence of the deck was daring you to finally break it.
You took a deep, steadying breath. You turned away from the horizon and crossed the deck.
With every step you took toward him, the ambient noise of the ship—the distant clatter of pots from the galley, the soft creak of the rigging—seemed to fade into a hollow hum.
Shanks didn’t move at first, but you knew he knew you were there. He always knew. As you drew closer, the brim of his hat tilted up.
Those sharp, dark eyes, usually crinkled with mirth or narrowed with the terrifying focus of a conqueror, met yours. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, the familiar scar over his left eye stretching slightly.
"Hey," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly purr that had a humiliating way of making your stomach flip. He lowered the bottle slightly. "You’ve been pacing all morning. Everything alright, Captain's orders aside?"
You stopped right in front of him. You didn't smile back. You didn't give him your usual playful, exasperated sigh. You just looked down at him, letting the gravity of what you were about to do settle over your shoulders like a physical weight.
“I think we need to talk about the fact that I’m in love with you,” you said simply.
The words hung in the warm air between you, startlingly plain, stripped of all the poetry and panic you had spent weeks weaving around them.
For a fraction of a second, the world stopped spinning.
Shanks froze. The easy, half-drunken smile vanished from his face as if it had never been there. The bottle in his hand slipped an inch before he caught himself, his grip tightening instinctively on the clay. His eyes widened just a fraction, the dark irises dilating as his brain scrambled to catch up to the sheer audacity of what you had just uttered.
For a man who ruled the seas, who faced down admirals and rival emperors without batting an eye, Shanks looked entirely, spectacularly derailed.
"You…" he started, his voice dropping an octave, rough around the edges. He pushed his hat back completely, staring up at you with a gaze so intensely focused it felt like a physical touch. "You what?"
You didn't blink. You didn't look away. You held your ground, though your heart was hammering a frantic, violent rhythm against your ribs. You had crossed the Rubicon. There was no turning back now.
And because you were already standing on the edge of the cliff, you decided you might as well jump all the way off.
"And also," you continued, your voice frighteningly steady, "that I’m pregnant."
The silence that followed was absolute.
It wasn't the comfortable, sleepy silence of the Red Force anymore. It was a vacuum. A suffocating, dead-air vacuum where time seemingly ground to a halt.
Shanks didn't move. He didn't breathe. The color seemed to drain out of his face for a terrifying second, leaving him startlingly pale beneath his tan, his eyes locked onto yours with a terrifying intensity.
You watched the gears turn in his head. You watched him process the first sentence—I'm in love with you—and try to map it out. And then you watched him collide violently with the second sentence—and I'm pregnant—and watch his entire universe tilt violently on its axis.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Shanks stood up.
He was taller than you, a towering wall of muscle and dangerous warmth. He dropped the sake bottle—it didn't matter that it shattered against the wooden deck, spilling sweet liquor across the planks, because neither of them cared.
His large, calloused hands came up, hovering just an inch away from your shoulders as if he were terrified that if he touched you too hard, you might shatter, or worse, that you might turn out to be a hallucination born of too much sun and bad rum.
"Say that again," he whispered. His voice wasn't loud, but it vibrated through the deck, heavy with an emotion so raw and unpolished that it took your breath away. "The… the last part."
"I'm pregnant, Shanks," you repeated, your voice softening just a fraction, though you refused to let your gaze waver from his. "It's yours. Before you ask stupid questions."
A sharp, ragged breath hitched in his throat.
And then, the mask cracked completely.
The terrifying Emperor of the Sea, the man who could make grown men faint with a single glare of his Conqueror's Haki, let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. It was a shaky, ragged sound, born of sheer, unadulterated shock.
His hands finally made contact, sliding up your arms, his fingers trembling—actually trembling—as they gripped your shoulders, pulling you in until there was barely a breath of space left between you.
"Pregnant," he breathed, the word tasting foreign and miraculous on his tongue. His eyes searched your face, scanning every micro-expression as if looking for the punchline, looking for the trick. When he found only the stark, undeniable truth staring back at him, his expression crumpled into something so painfully tender that your own eyes stung.
"You're… you're serious?" he asked, a fierce, protective instinct flaring up so brightly in his aura that you could practically feel the air ripple around him. "You're not… this isn't a joke?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" you murmured, a ghost of a smile finally touching your lips, though your heart was still doing acrobatics in your chest. "I’ve been trying to find a good way to tell you for two weeks. Turns out, there isn't one. You just rip the bandage off."
Shanks stared at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. And then, slowly, a massive, brilliant smile broke across his face—not the lazy smirk he gave the crew, but a blinding, beautiful grin that reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling the corners and making him look younger, wilder, and entirely wrecked with joy.
"You're in love with me," he said, zeroing in on the first part with a sudden, overwhelming surge of triumph that eclipsed everything else. He let out a breathless, barking laugh, pulling you flush against his chest so hard it knocked the wind out of you. "By all the gods, you're in love with me. And you're having my kid."
"Don't sound so surprised," you muttered, resting your forehead against his solid, warm shoulder, letting the familiar scent of cedar and sea salt wash over you. "It wasn't exactly a secret to everyone else on this ship."
"Luffy's going to throw a fit," Shanks muttered into your hair, his voice thick with emotion as his arms wrapped entirely around you, locking you in a cage of unbreakable, fierce warmth. "Or he's going to demand to be the godfather. Knowing him, it'll be both."
"Let him try," you murmured, closing your eyes as you let yourself sink into the embrace you had secretly craved for months.
Shanks pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands sliding down to rest gently, reverently, over your stomach. His touch was feather-light, as if he were afraid his calloused hands might somehow damage the fragile, miraculous secret hidden beneath your clothes. His thumb stroked a slow, soothing circle against your shirt.
"Hey," he whispered, his dark eyes shining with an intensity that made your throat tighten. The playful pirate was entirely gone, replaced by a man who had just been handed the most precious treasure in the world—far greater than any One Piece or ancient weapon. "You know what this means, right?"
"What?" you asked softly.
"It means," Shanks said, his voice dropping into a fierce, absolute vow, "that I'm never letting you out of my sight again. Not on islands, not on the ship, nowhere. We're going to have to do a lot of talking about the future, you and me… starting with the fact that I've been hopelessly, stupidly in love with you since the day you stepped onto this damn ship."
You blinked, a genuine laugh bubbling up past the tightness in your chest. "You have?"
"Are you kidding?" He rolled his eyes, a fond, exasperated grin pulling at his lips as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "I've been losing sleep over it for a year, trying to figure out how to tell a stubborn, brilliant pain-in-the-ass like you without ruining everything."
"Well," you whispered, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze, a small, triumphant smile finally settling on your face. "Looks like we're both terrible at keeping secrets."
Shanks didn't answer with words. Instead, he cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and pulled you in. The kiss was deep, desperate, and overflowing with a year's worth of unspoken longing, sealing the terrified confessions into something unbreakable.
Above them, somewhere up in the crow's nest, a muffled cheer erupted, followed by the sound of someone frantically losing a bet of beris.
Shanks groaned against your lips, pulling back just enough to shoot a lethal, glowing glare up at the rigging, though he couldn't hide the wide, delirious grin splitting his face.
"Benn!" Shanks bellowed across the deck, his arm remaining firmly wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his side where you belonged. "Break out the good sake! We've got a lot of celebrating to do!"
You let out a soft laugh, resting your hand over his where it still guarded your stomach, feeling the steady, thrumming beat of his heart against yours.
The sea stretched out infinitely before you, bright and wide and terrifyingly unknown, but for the first time, you knew exactly where you were supposed to be. . . .
//cw: Luffy calls you "mama", inappropriate use of food, inappropriate use of devil fruit, kitchen sex, oral sex (m!receive), throat bulge, teasing, vaginal sex, nipple play, dom/sub, light bdsm, captain kink, choking kink, breeding kink, praise kink, squirting, dirty talk, accidental voyeurism
wc: 2.6k
× originally posted on ao3 ×
It was late at night.
The ship was filled with a loud silence, only the sea waving and moonlight accompanying your shared bedroom floor. You had been tossing right and left on your bed for an hour, mind restless and stomach aching for food.
You decided to head into the galley, finding snacks or maybe some leftover dish that the crew hadn't finished eating after dinner earlier. But you knew it was way too impossible to have any leftovers when your own captain was a big eater. There wasn't a single breakfast, lunch and dinner were left unfinished.
You reached for a box of cereal at the kitchen cabinet and plunged your hand inside to grab a handful. And as you were about to greedily shove it into your mouth, something long and rubbery swirled tight around your waist like a viper and snatched you from behind.
The dry cereal scattered all over the floorboards from your hands. You let out a yelp until your spine slammed hard against a solid wall of unyielding muscle.
"What're you eating?"
You tilted your head up, your heart beating fast and saw Luffy with that innocent-looking smile of his plastered on his face.
"Luffy! what the fu—"
He covered your mouth with his other hand, cutting you off instantly.
"Jeez, quiet down will you?" he whispered in your ear, making you freeze with a shiver sent down your spine from his hot breath. "Sanji will find out we sneaked into his kitchen at night."
When he finally pulled his hand away from your face, you squirmed in his grasp, trying to uncoil his stretchy arm to get off from him, but he was like iron.
"Get off me!" you hissed.
Luffy dropped you and you stumbled in front of him. Catching your balance, you huffed out an irritated breath. He was shirtless, only had his shorts on with his straw hat resting between his shoulder blades as usual.
The raw radiance of heat from his body was somehow suffocating, but seeing him close up like this made you captivated— the lean muscles of his arms and chest hit you with a pure, heavy seduction that could make you knees melt.
"I– Why are you here?" You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous by his presence, especially since it was just the two of you, alone, in the galley.
Luffy raised a brow, confused with your odd question. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... why aren't you asleep yet?" You bit your lip while your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shorts.
"Why do you care?" he scoffed. "Now clean up the floor."
Unconsciously, your eyes were too busy wandering his body, specifically his arms, it was too hot to not admire them— you wished he could choke you right now while railing you.
"Heyyy, are you listening?" Luffy snapped your daydreams back to reality, making your eyes widen when you didn't realise his face was close to yours, head tilted to the side as he examined your face. You could feel his breath fanning your skin.
"Sorry?" A bead of sweat was already forming on your hairline. You swore you couldn't be more nervous than you already were.
"I said: clean up the floor," he repeated, his index finger pointing out the scattered cereal on the ground.
"Sanji will accuse me for messing up his kitchen even though you were the one who created this mess." He rolled his eyes, standing straight and crossing his arms over his firm pecs. "C'mon, a crewmate should always obey her captain, shouldn't she?"
You looked at the spilled trail, then back at Luffy, who had a playful smirk plastered on his lips with his head tilted to the side.
"Right, okay..."
You were aware that Luffy was actually the one created the mess and you would argue that with him, but somehow your body decided to take control of your mind by obeying him.
Before you could move, Luffy stopped you. You raised a brow, giving him a baffled look.
"Hmm, crawl from there," he instructed, pointing toward the direction where you grabbed the box earlier. "And pick them up with your mouth."
"Wha– what?"
"Crawl for me, mama." Luffy reached out a hand to your face, grazing your jawline with his fingers then tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You shuddered at his touch. "Captain's order."
You swallowed hard, the hesitation lingering your body before you dropped onto your hands and knees. The wooden floor was cold against your skin, yet the humiliation carved a heat through your chest as you began to crawl, picking up the dry snacks with your teeth like a dog.
The degradation changed into a pathetic feeling when your panties started to soak with your wetness.
"Eyes on me, mama," Luffy ordered. You submitted, locking your gaze onto his, which were flaming with a pure lust. "Keep the food in your mouth, don't eat them."
His gaze never left you, he watched you the whole time while you were crawling to him. The way your hips swayed, and your eyes pierced his. It was all so erotic, it made his cock rock hard. You crawled all the way until you reached the final piece that was exactly right at his feet.
You stayed there on all four, tilting your head up as you looked at him with your cheeks puffy slightly like a chipmunk, waiting for his next order. You could see the heavy bulge straining in his shorts, practically begging for a pussy's attention— your pussy to be exact. And just from that, you could tell he was big too.
Luffy bent down and pat your head. "You're such a good dog!" He giggled.
His praise instantly flooded your panties more. He knelt down on one knee, cupping your face. "Chew, but don't swallow," he uttered.
Crunching sounds filled the room as you smashed the rough cereal with your teeth until it fully became a paste. Luffy rose back to his feet, hovering over your frame while palming his clothed cock with a low moan escaped his lips.
"Will you be a good girl for me, cutie?"
Trapped into his realm of raw desire, you nodded foolishly, drawing a cocky grin across his face at your obedient self. He took off his shorts, and tossed it somewhere on the floor before kneeling down on both knees, his fat cock springing right in front of your face. The precum glistened at the crown of his thick length.
Luffy smeared them across your bulging lips as if he was painting you a lip gloss, then grabbed your hair, gripping it into one, tight ponytail.
"Open your mouth," he demanded in a dark tone.
You parted your lips slowly, the soggy paste oozing down your chin, but Luffy wiped them with his free hand, sucking them clean with a low hum and eyes locked on yours.
You really couldn't get more turned on when he did that.
A low growl slipped past his lips the second he pushed his member into your mouth until his leaking tip met the back of your throat, the rough pubes of his brushing against your nose. After a few moment, he began to unleash his desperation at a slow pace.
"Look at you, all stuffed and messy," Luffy murmured, watching your face stretch at his size. "You like having your captain's dick in your mouth?"
"Mmph... mgh..." you whimpered around his shaft, your eyes watering from his tip stabbing your throat in each thrust.
"Good little pet. Take all of it, yea?" he breathed while his thumb wiped down a stray of drool on your lower lip gently.
Without a warning , Luffy gave one sharp, hard thrust, burying himself deep in your tight throat, causing you to swallow the soggy cereal out of force.
His grasp on your hair immediately changed into a death grip. The flesh of your throat locked around his thick cock, creating a visible, lascivious bulge from the outside and you gagged immediately, tears overflowing across your face and saliva dripping down your chin along with the soggy snacks.
"Look at that— ahh..." Luffy breathed shakily, one of his hands caressing your neck, feeling himself stabbing down the inside of your flesh. It worsened his arousal more when he twitched in your mouth.
He began to face-fuck you in an aggressive, brutal rhythm now, captivated by the bulge appearing and disappearing from each sharp thrust from him again and again. The flesh inside of your neck contracted roughly around his shaft.
"Taking it so deep for me..." he panted, "You love— Nghh... You love getting choked on your captain's cock don't you?"
Oh did it throb your pussy more from his dirty talk. You believed your panties were already fully drenched right now. You gave a quick, desperate nod while choking around him so lewd and so perfect it filled the room with nothing but Luffy using your face like a fleshlight violently.
"Good girl... I've been imagining this for so long— argh!" Luffy expressed in between his low, guttural growl. "You don't know how much I kept imagining— Nghh... imagining you wrapping around me like this— oh god I'm gonna cum!"
Luffy gave a few more hard thrusts before he finally reached his release. Pinning his hips firmly to your face, balls deep as his thick cum spilled hot directly down your throat along with the cereal paste, making the taste become sweet and sour as you swallowed.
Luffy pulled out and you moved back slowly to sit on your calves, choking and coughing as you gasped for air that had abandoned your lungs from the intense moment.
The floor and your face were a pure mess— sticky with saliva, cum and food paste.
Luffy reached forward and caged your face in his hands, licking your slicked chin then capturing your lips into his in a wet, teeth clinking kiss. The kiss was sweet from the taste of the snacks, yet rough from his tongue tangled with yours as he fished out every single desperate moan from your chest.
"Taste so sweet," he giggled in your mouth. "My cute pet."
Out of desperation, Luffy turned you around in one fast motion and ripped off your shorts completely in two, the cool air fanning your dripping slit. He pulled you to his sweaty, hot chest with one hand, his still-hard length leaning against your spine, while his other hand teased your drenched petal-lips.
"So wet for me, mama." He cooed in your ear in a dark, seductive tone. No fingers were inside you, yet your back arched and your pussy clenched around air.
"Please... Lu— Luffy please put it in..." Your whining made his member twitch.
"Hm? That's not how you ask your captain for a favor is it?" He yanked your hair back in a stinging hold. "Ask properly then maybe I'll give you exactly what you're craving?"
Gosh, you had never seen and heard Luffy sound so dominant. He was always the goofy and playful type of person, but getting him to unravel like this during sexual intimacy just made you crave him more and more.
"I want— I want your cock please, captain!" you cried out, fully surrounded with the needy feeling.
Luffy lips carved into a pout. "Mmm, not good enough..." His hand abandoned your folds to sneak under your crop top, groping your breast and twisting your nipple viciously.
"Pleas— Mhgm! Please captain, I want you— your cock, inside me now, please!"
"Good mama," he praised in a low, pleased hum vibrating in his chest. "That's more like it."
Before you could even catch your breath from his praise, Luffy coiled his arm around your torso along with your arms tight to your sides with a supernatural strength while his thighs wrapped around yours, holding you fully captive.
Like a bolt from the blue, he pushed his long shaft inside your needy cunt in one smooth motion, forcing a gasp to escape your lips. He was so big, it filled you inside all to the brim, and his tip kissed your cervix just right.
"'Fu— fuck," you whimpered, biting your lip as your drenched walls trying to accomodate his size. The friction of your hole squeezing around him made his hips jerk forward, driving himself deeper into you.
Luffy hooked his free arm under your chin, trapping your head in his forearms and choking you lightly making your back arch in his rubbery arm. "Taking me so well, so goo— ahh..."
With his stretchy limbs secured around your body, every single thrust was euphoria and agonizingly thorough. Luffy hammered into you in a frantic, brutal rhythm that made you a whimpering mess.
"You feel so wet," he panted into your neck, his breath ragged as he angled his hips to hit that one spot that made your moans become louder and louder from each thrust. "You were made just for me, mama."
Luffy's pace shifted faster, fully abusing your pulsing cavern with his thick cock. He was devouring you piece by piece and veins by veins, driving himself into you with a wild, rhythmic violence that left you crying out helplessly.
"Captain please! Feels so— so good mhmm!" Tears of pleasure streamed across your face, the crown of his member hitting your g-spot so perfectly from each brutal thrust.
"Say it again," he commanded, his teeth grazing the sensitive part of your ear. "Tell me how good your captain is— Nggh fucking you."
"You— aah! You feel so good, so deep," you sobbed out, completely broken and undone beneath him.
"That's right," A psychopathic grin pulled his lips as he fucked through his own climax, abusing your walls harder and harder. He was completely lost in the madness of finally having everything he had been starving for.
Luffy stretched his middle and ring finger from the hold of your torso to your clit, pressing them hard and rubbing it in a circular motion. The additional pleasure, and the way he used his rubber ability so erotically caused your abdomen to instantly build a knot that was ready to be snapped.
"Oh god I wanna cum please, Luffy!" Your hips squirmed against his thighs, grinding into his fingers to chase your orgasm.
Luffy added more pressure in choking you with his forearm, fully blocking the airway of your throat. "Beg properly, mama," he rasped.
"I— Nghh! I wanna cum, Captain— Plea— please!" You choked out.
The violent thrusting, the choking and the clit rub were all so overstimulating, it made your head light as a feather, especially the contraction of your walls working on his size.
"Good girl," he grunted into your ear as he increased the speed of his fingers and his thrusts inside your pulsing walls. "Cum for me, mama."
With just his sexy voice alone, you came all over his cock. Your pussy clenched tight, your eyes rolled back into your skull and your jaw hanging open as you let out a long note of moan. Your body shook like an earthquake when a sudden rush of clear liquid squirted all over his rubber fingers and the floor in a hot, messy gush.
"Jesus— I'm gonna cum oh god." With one last sharp thrust, Luffy came, mumbling unintelligible words as his hips locked against your ass tightly, splashing his hot, thick ropes of seed all over your cervix.
He uncoiled his arm from your limp, numb body before the two of you fell sideways, hissing when his soft cock slipped out of your stretched pussy, hole overflowing with his cum.
The galley was now filled with heavy stench of sex and gasping.
"Oh my god."
Your eyes shot open when you heard a voice that was definitely not your captain's. The two of you whipped your heads to look at the kitchen entrance.
Sanji stood there, speechless and frozen with his nose pouring blood. His pants were spotted a dark stain around his crotch area.
𖠳 how your relationship looks like with them when it’s only brand-new ! + MONSTER TRIO & SHANKS
𖠳 t/cws: 4.5k words, fluff, established relationship, f!reader, so much teasing and flirting, and sexual innuendos on zoro & shanks, explicit mentions of sex and slight nsfw [mdni!], pet names (baby, my love, darling, sweetheart, babe, doll), age gap on shanks’ (not specified but r is younger than him obvi), uhmm that’s all i think.. notes at the end!
𖣓 LUFFY
“alright, come back in two hours, okay?” nami said, standing with her arms poised on her hips like a scolding mother. “it’s not very ideal for us to stay in an island for elongated periods now that we’re notorius.” she reminded.
“yesss, nami-swan! we’ll be careful, i’ll do my grocery in an hour and get back to you immediately!”
“ok, ok!” she replied with a tap on his cheek.
“right, y/n, let’s go!” luffy proclaimed, and you didn’t even have the time to reply before he’s hauling you on his shoulder like a sack and jumping off the ship. all you could do was scream before you two landed with a loud thud.
“luffy!” you scolded after he put you down, gently this time, and shoved him playfully on the shoulder.
“shishishi, sorry!” he replied, grabbing your hand and interlinking it with his.
“so, what should we do?” you asked, swinging your arms together as you walked side by side.
“i want to look for beetles, actually!” he replied cheerfully.
“b-beetles?” you sputtered.
“yup! i want to start collecting beetles again, now that i have you, maybe you could help me, and we could play beetle fights like me and my brothers used to do as kids!”
you were at a loss for words for a few seconds. it was heartwarming that luffy’s letting you in something that he genuinely likes and enjoys and also something that he shares with his beloved brothers.
“of course, baby,” you smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “we can find as many beetles as you like.”
he looked at you in surprise at the pet name, face splitting into a wide grin. “let’s go then!”
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
“soooo..” luffy drawled, removing his hat to place it on your head. “can i kiss you in front of the others?”
“what?!” you shrieked, pulling his hat down and looking around for passersby. luffy just laughed at your reaction.
“well, they know that we’re dating now,” he said, tipping his head back to look at the sky and you can’t help but stare at his side profile and the way his black hair danced around with the breeze. “and they’re okay—”
“they freaked out the entire night, lu.”
“they got over it already!” he laughed, stretching his arm to loop around your body and pull you very closely to him. “i wanna be able to do these things even when they’re around, y’know?”
you just clicked your tongue in reply, you could feel the heat rushing onto your cheeks at his action.
“please..?” he urged, and really, you couldn’t refuse your boyfriend, not with that puppy eyes of his, and his cute, flushed cheeks, and the pout—of course—even if you tried.
“ugh! fine, okay, but not too much, alright? they might start getting grossed out of us.” you relented, resting your face on his shoulder and placing a kiss on his neck, the smile on his face is contagious.
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
“WAHOOOO!!!” luffy, usopp and chopper’s screams echoed across the whole deck as luffy tested out franky’s new slide that seems more like a threat rather than entertainment.
“honestly, y/n... luffy?” nami teased, looking at you after watching luffy slam against the hardwood floors with a loud plop!
“oh, nami! he’s just silly,” you replied as you watched him stretch his arms up until they reached both sides of the slide and literally plummeted upwards, taking the whole thing with him. “ooh! my god! just really, really silly.” you followed with a wince, you were standing now, peering from your beach parasol as the guys helped him and the slide stand up again.
“luffy! do you have concussion?! why’d you do that?!” you barked as you marched to where he was. he’s just laughing while franky was inspecting the slide beside him.
“he might actually have a concussion..” robin murmured from behind you.
“i’m sorry, i’m sorry!” he told you but he’s still giggling so you just glared at him. he noticed your expression and wiped his mouth to hide the smile, then pulled you snug to his chest. “okay, i’m sorry, i’ll try not to—”
“haul yourself up with a big metal slide?! what if you fell into the sea and drowned?” you continued scolding him, wiggling out of his grasp as you peep the crew’s teasing looks and smiles from your peripheral view.
luffy just sighed and shrugged, “you’ll save me, right?”
you shot him with a deadpan look, “lu, you know i’m not a good swimmer!”
“well, it’s the thought that counts!”
“ohhh, you’re so!”
he just giggled, then he removed his hat to cover his and your face before pressing a hard kiss to your lips. the crew erupted with the loudest ooohs and ahhhs while you stood frozen in shock after he pulled away, placing his hat back with the loudest cackle at your expression.
“soooo cute!”
“suuuuuper adorable! i didn’t know you had it in you, luffy!”
“how lovely.”
you were blushing profusely now, hitting luffy playfully on the chest, but one look at his grinning face had you fisting his shirt and pulling him closer to grab another kiss.
the crew erupted into howls.
𖣓 ZORO
you quietly entered the crow’s nest, lips curling into a smile when you saw him doing push-ups. “hey,”
he grunted as a reply, and then stilled for a second like he had some realization. “hello,”
you let out a giggle, “tryna be more communicative? how cute.”
he glared at you but there was no malice behind it, he took one last lap before standing up. “you wanna train?”
“nope, i wanna spend time with my boyfriend.” you replied with a big smile that stretched even bigger as you watched his cheeks turn into a shade of crimson.
he shook his head in embarrassment and took a seat at the bench, reaching an arm out for you. “c’mere,”
you wasted no time and took your place beside him. “i got bored at the library,”
“oh, i’m your second option?”
“nope!” you replied with a pop, “i miss you ‘s all.”
he laughed a little at that, leaning back and taking a good look at you before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
“so, what do you wanna do?” you asked, tilting your head away a bit in an attempt to hide the smile you couldn’t fight from breaking out.
“i don’t know, you tell me.” he replied with a shrug, eyes not leaving your figure because he knows it flusters you.
“stop looking at me like that!” you said, moving just an inch away from him.
“like what?” he replied, voice laced with pretentiousness like he doesn’t have a small smirk on his lips. he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer. “like what?” he repeated in a whisper right to your ear.
“like you wanna, i dunno, havesexwithme?” you mumbled fast, immediately regretting your choice of words and letting out a nervous giggle.
“and what if i wanna have sex with you? we’re a couple now, right?” he answers, mouth still hovering over your ear, and you could feel the hairs on your neck rising just a bit.
“zoro!”
“what?” he laughed, tipping his head back. “i’m teasing, but i do, wanna have sex with you, sometime.. when you’re ready.” he followed, then pressed a kiss to your temple before standing up and grabbing a dumbbell nearby.
“seriously?” you uttered, watching in disbelief as he started exercising again.
“right, baby, can you count f’me.”
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
“zoro, if you’re gonna come with me then you better walk right beside me, okay?” you pleaded as you folded the map nami handed you.
“how many times are you gonna keep reminding me?” he replied with an extremely bored tone, but really he’s fighting the urge to touch your cheek right now. maybe later when you two are out of the crew’s sight.
“as much as i have to until your brain can actually retain it,” you replied, slapping the map against his head lightly.
“this how you talk to the same man you kiss that mouth with?” he said, catching your arm and pulling you along with him as he started walking forward.
“wh—why would you say that?!” you sputtered out, looking behind to check if anybody’s heard it besides you.
“come on, better start hitting those important supplies before you start hauling your ass inside clothing stores,” he said.
“or before you start hauling your ass inside another sword shop!” you grit your teeth, trying to remove your arm from his hold but to no avail.
“i won’t get lost,” he said, grip becoming gentler as you two established an appropriate distance from the ship enough for him to hold your hand, albeit quite awkwardly. “‘cus i’m with you,”
“i don’t stray away from you.” he followed, a little quieter now. you whip your head so fast to look at him, he looked back at you with a raised eyebrow before using his other hand to flick your forehead.
“ugh, seriously, why can’t you be normal after being sweet?!”
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
your footsteps quietly padded across the stairs, one hand rubbing an eye and the other covering your yawning mouth.
you looked around the deck in a sleepy haze, trying to find a comfortable place to snuggle into.
“what are you doing?”
you jump in surprise, hand flying to clutch your chest. your boyfriend has snuck behind you and is sporting the meanest deadpan look.
“zorooooooo,” you whined as you fell into his chest and wrapped your arms around his torso. “i can’t sleep.”
“what were you planning to do out here?” he grumbled, awkwardly patting your head with one arm as he used the other to hold your body tight.
“where did you come from? crow’s nest?”
“uh huh, now answer my question.”
“eugh, i dunno, i’ve been tossing and turning for the past twenty minutes, i didn’t wanna bother nami and robin or worse, wake them up.” you replied, voice mumbled by his wide chest.
“so you were just planning to stay here outside?” he asked, grabbing both sides of your face to raise your head.
“i was gonna fetch you eventually, i just uhm.. wanted to lay first.” you replied.
he stared at you for a while, then squeezed both of your cheeks together and had the gall to cackle at your duck face.
“how ‘bout i take you back to my bed with me? i was just about to go there and get franky to take over for watch duty.” he said, moving his hands to rest on both sides of your neck.
“can we even fit in your bed? or is it a hammock.. but it can’t be a hammock if it’s wooden though, right?” you sleepily mumbled.
he just sighed before carrying you bridal style to his dorm.
𖣓 SANJI
“good morning, y/n-chan, my love!!!” you were greeted by sanji immediately upon opening the door to the girls’ shared cabin. his face was plastered with the biggest smile and one of his arms were outstretched, a bouquet of flowers on its end.
“sanji, good morning,” you replied, although not as lively considering it was still early in the morning. “were you just.. waiting for me here?” you took the flowers with a smile and brought them up to your nose for a whiff.
“oh, i asked robin-san if you were up yet and she said you’re fixing up in the bathroom already, so..” he shyly replied. “breakfast? i cooked only the best for you, my love!”
“okay, dear, how about you? have you eaten anything yet?” you asked, smelling the flowers more intensely. they were very lovely, you were gonna ask him where the heck he got them but you abruptly stopped when you realized how silent it had been.
“sanji...?” you asked when you noticed his footsteps aren’t following yours, you looked back to see him frozen in place, cigar falling out of his mouth and etching a burn hole to the wooden floors, eyes puppy wide.
it took him a few more seconds before breaking out of the trance and just crumbling, “y/n-channnnnn!” he took your hands in his and moved his face closer to yours. “did you just call me dear?”
“did i? i didn’t notice,” you sheepishly replied, it was the truth.
“oh, my heart! my sweetheart unknowingly calling me a pet name... it’s true love! it has to be!” he put your hands down but didn’t let go. “oh, y/n-chan, my day just got much better already!”
“sanji, dear, you are crushing the flowers..”
“ohhhhhhhh!!!”
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
“are you sure you want to do this, my love?” sanji asked, biting his bottom lip worriedly as you picked from his assortment of knives.
“yup!” you answered cheerfully, playing a silent eenie-meenie game in your head.
“you don’t have to do this, y/n-chan, in fact, you don’t have to do anything but sit pretty as long as i’m here...” he continued on, placing his hands on your shoulders and pressing a kiss at the crown of your head.
“sanji, don’t be dramatic,” you giggled. “i just wanna help you cut ingredients.”
“but you don’t have to, my dear! of course, i appreciate the effort, y/n-chan, it warms my heart that you’re even offering to do this—”
“shush,” you cut him off. “i watch you all the time, well now, i wanna help you. can’t i do that? help my boyfriend?”
“ohhh, y/n-chan!!!” his hands moved to wrap around your waist, and then rubbed his cheek against your head like a cat. “of course, you can do that, my love! i’ll teach you, alright? and then you can be my sous-chef, my lovely, lovely y/n!”
“alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “careful, baby, there are knives just in front of us.”
“oh! i think i might just die!”
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
“sanji! stop pacing the deck like some madman!” nami barked before sipping on her iced tea, shaking her head in disbelief as the blond-haired chef continued walking back and forth.
“ahh, sanji, if you were so worried about her, you shoulda accompanied her instead.” usopp said.
“i know, i know, but i can’t just dismiss chopper, he wanted to go!” sanji replied, biting the top of his shirt.
“and i’m sure he’s doing a good job, and that they’re both fine.” robin said from behind her book.
“man, just calm down—”
“we’re backkkk!” chopper’s tiny voice emerged and sanji almost jumped so high in relief. “sanji! i brought y/n back safely with me!”
“chopper!” sanji squealed in delight before standing upright and saluting. “good job, sir!”
“seriously...” you shook your head in disbelief but you couldn’t contain your laugh.
“oh, my loveee, let me take those out of your hands!” he’s immediately at your side and fussing on you, you gripped his face in one hand and shook it affectionately.
“i’m fine, it was a quick errand run.”
“oh, y/n-chan, every minute that i don’t spend with you is like having a shard of glass pierce my heart, one by one,” he proclaimed.
“oh, here he go.”
“luffy, pass me that can, i’m gonna throw it at his head.”
“has anybody seen the projector den den mushi please?”
“as soon as you left, i started counting down the seconds until you’re back in my arms again.” he continued, chest heaving and a hand coming up to rest on his forehead like he’s in distress.
“here you go, nami, play that obnoxiously loud movie about trains.”
“oh, i like that one!”
“sanji, i love you, but shut up right now.”
𖣓 SHANKS
“shanks.. you know, i do love being your girlfriend, really.. but well, i’m scared to tell the others.” you mumble, looking down at the bubbly surface of the water. you and shanks are taking a bath together—well, you were, honestly, you should be done already but he’s refusing to get out of the tub.
“why’re you scared, doll?” he replied in the middle of nibbling on every skin he can access, even with soap.
“uh, duh! i’m fairly new here...” you replied.
“baby,” shanks paused to laugh. “you’ve been here for four years.”
“well, that’s new! compared to your senior officers, it’s baby shit.” you answer.
“obviously, they’ve been here first. come on, darling, there are a lot of recruits much newer than you are, don’t shy out of your four years, that’s a long time.” he mumbles against your skin, sucking on your neck that’s guaranteed to leave hickeys for later.
“you aren’t sleeping with them, shanks.”
“well, of course, i have you,” he replied, making you grab a handful of soapy water and tossing it backwards to his face.
“ow!”
“i’m serious, i’m scared, i’m younger than you, i haven’t been here as long as your officers, i’m a girl, i’m literally just hongo’s assistant nurse—and now we have to tell them we’re dating!” you sputter out. “i mean, me? dating you? it’s got a shock factor to it, and i wanna break it.. gently.”
“ok first of all, you’re not just hongo’s assistant nurse, you do a lot more ‘round here other than just helping him stir concoctions. you take care of everybody, you help cook—you’re a nurse!—you show up, and you always look out for us, for me.” he replied, holding your chin in his hand to make you look up at him. “and the shock factor is mostly due to a young, beautiful, perfect woman like you dating me. i mean, i’m almost 40, sweets, with one limb?”
“you’re a famous yonko, shanks, for a reason! notorius! don’t even start with me.” you rolled your eyes.
shanks rested his chin on top of your head, “you have nothing to worry about, y/n. if i like you, then what reason do they have not to? and they already like you, a lot. those guys, they’re very supportive, and they see how much you care for me, see just how much you dote on me,” he teased, “and i’m sure they’re aware of how much i care about you as well, yeah?” he placed a kiss on your head, and then to your temple. “i love you, and i’m telling you right now, there’s nothing to worry about.”
you nibbled on your lip, pondering, until you felt his arm slowly making its way to the valley of your breasts. you shot him a look, “shanks.”
“what?” he replied with faux innocence.
“i...” you sighed, “i just wanna take it slow, okay?” you said, fluttering your eyes at him.
“i’m more of a fast-paced guy, darling, you know that, but sure, if that’s what you want,” he smiled at you before continuing his assault on every crevice of your skin. nibbling, sucking, licking. “i can do slow, wan’ me to show you right now?”
“seriously!” you spritz him with a fistful of water but then he suddenly squeezed one of your boobs making you yelp in surprise.
“do that one more time, baby, you’ll be begging for slow.”
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
“morning, everyone!” you greeted as soon as you reached the deck, taking a seat near shanks but not as close as you’d be behind closed doors.
you saw him about to reach his arm out to grab you but you glared at him, he just widened his eyes at you in defiance but retracted his hand.
benn noticed it and raised an eyebrow but said nothing. he locked eyes with yasopp, who, on the other hand, had the nastiest smirk on his face.
“so, cap, you and y/n hit off the town yet?” he asked, suddenly. benn looked at him as if urging him to drop it but he pretended not to see him.
“what town?” shanks replied, intrigued.
“y’know...” yasopp said, leaning back on his chair and glancing around to look at the others before continuing. “pound town.”
some of the senior officers are huddled around and they all exploded into fists of giggles at yasopp’s remark.
“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you mumbled, looking away in embarrassment.
“he knows what i’m talking about. he’s always looking at you in this incredibly sticky way, you know what i mean? like he wants to eat your face off right in front of everybody.”
shanks grabbed a nearby fruit and threw it at yasopp, who catches it with ease. “shut up, yasopp.”
“that’s not true! we’re just.. close!” you said in defense.
“sure, yeah, we all believe that.” gab said with a smile.
thankfully, they all moved on after that. talking amongst themselves while you continued to dissect an orange to try and calm yourself down.
of course, it doesn’t really help when you can feel shanks’ heavy gaze on you. you bit your lip before sneaking a glance at the others, and when you were sure they’re all occupied, you looked back at shanks with a raised brow.
what? you mouthed.
come here. he mouthed back.
you took a look at the others again before slowly, very slowly and quietly, moving your chair backwards and nearer him. just a little, though, so you don’t give yourself away.
“what have you done to the poor orange?” he laughed as he took the fruit from your hands.
“i dunno,” you replied sheepishly, crossing your legs together and sneaking glances at the other guys. he tossed it into the air and caught it just as quick, playing with it like a ball.
“you alright?” he asked in a small voice, pausing his fetch to run his fingers across your face for a bit.
you smile at him, “yeah,” you replied in a whisper.
“okay,” he whispered back, not removing his eyes on you.
“jeez, you two, are you gonna start rutting into each other like a pair of in heat bunnies now?” hongo suddenly appeared from behind, catching the other guys’ attention and turning it onto both of you again. they all cackled loudly when they registered what he had said, and you grabbed the orange from shanks to throw it in his face.
“yeah, boss, can i get my panna cotta first?” lucky roux interjected, grabbing the plate of dessert from the small table in the middle and making kissy faces on it.
“i’ll kill all of you,” you muttered with a deadly glare, but you were sure your cheeks were blushing a vibrant shade of red by then.
“i mean, honestly, did you think you could eye-fuck each other all the time and not think that maybe we’ve caught up on it?” limejuice asked with a sly smirk.
“oh, i’m not hiding it, lime, matter of fact i want everyone to see so nobody tries making a move on her.” shanks replies breezily, slumping on his chair and resting his hand on your head.
“shanks!” you scolded as the guys erupted in laughter.
“when were you planning on telling us, huh?” benn asked.
“whenever she wanted to.” shanks answered, ruffling your hair.
“ugh! whatever! fine, we’re dating!”
they all cheered even louder, suddenly pulling out berries from their pockets and exchanging them with each other.
“ya owe me one, snake, i told ya, i could just feel it in my bones.”
“damn, y/n, i thought you were strong enough to resist the cap’n..”
“are you serious right now?!”
shanks wrapped his hand on your neck and gently pulled your face towards him, “see? you got scared over nothin’.” he said, eyes locking directly onto yours, his breath fanning your face.
❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞 ❋ ࣪ ࣭ 𓆞
shanks couldn’t stop the smile from forming as he watched you gulping down shots with lucky roux from another table. he tried hiding it behind his hand at first but it’s hard to contain because he just really, really loved seeing you.
“—and then, we’ll drop by this island first before—captain, are you even listening?” limejuice asked with a frown, following his line of sight and raising his hands in defeat as he realized why the red-haired captain was out of focus. “whatever, boss, we’ll talk again later.”
“careful, boss, they might melt into a puddle if you keep staring like that.” yasopp teased from his side.
“or some stranger here might start thinking the captain has a crush on them because he’s grinning like a teenage lovesick fool.” hongo muttered from behind.
“ah, can’t a man just be happy over his own girlfriend?” shanks answered with a laugh, catching your attention. you looked back and met his eyes, mirroring the grin on his lips.
“catch ya later, roux roux!” you chugged down one last shot before making your way towards your boyfriend. yasopp made a dramatic exit of bowing to offer you his seat beside shanks making you roll your eyes playfully.
“what’s up?” you asked, smiling at shanks and then to your crewmates gathered around him.
“oh, nothing, it just seems that he’s so occupied by you he can’t even think,” bonk punch answered, raising his eyebrows up and down to tease.
“what nonsense! what’d you do now?” you laughed before narrowing your eyes at shanks.
“nothing, they’re just jealous and booing me, babe.” shanks answered with a shake of his head, laughing and grabbing one of your hands to fiddle with.
“oh, nuffin’, just booing me, baby! do sum’n about it!” yasopp mocked playfully, wiggling in his chair, and the others quickly joined him to jest.
“yeah, babe, they’re being mean to meee!” lucky appeared from behind him, drumming on his stomach. you all erupted into laughter but shanks just brought your hand to his mouth to press a gentle kiss.
“you’re on dishwashing duty tonight, yasopp. captain’s orders.”
“unfair! friends can’t tease each other now?” he exclaimed.
“not right now,” shanks replied with a smile, standing up and gently ushering you to the side. “gonna have some quality time with my beauty now, gentlemen.”
he wrapped his arm around you and led you outside the pub, the crew’s chanting and jeering following behind you like moths all the way to the doors.
“what would you say about going back to the ship and expelling some of this energy?” he whispered to your ear, and you can literally feel the outline of his smirk, the vision of it clear as day in your head.
“what energy? i’m just happy right now. how about shopping?” you answered in faux-naïf.
“i’m happy too, baby, i swear,” he replied, “but also, i think i’m getting really horny.” he whispered in your ear again and you just nudged his chest with your elbow.
a/n: omg!!! well, this was long, i hope it can make up for my inactivity :') i was rly hoping to follow my first post just after a few days but alas, my brain isn’t cooperative when i need it to be. but i do have a handful of stuff cooking in my drafts!!! i’ll try to post them soon hihi
and first post hit 1k notes yayyy thank u so much :]] hope u like this and lmk ur thoughts <3
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