i currently write mainly for ONE PIECE, with a particular weakness for men who are emotionally questionable and terribly handsome (aka Doffy).
♡ feel free to message me anytime or send a request whenever they are open ♡
i may take some time to get around to your request, but that doesn't mean i've forgotten about it. sometimes i don't have the inspiration for a particular idea, and sometimes a request simply isn't something that sparks my interest.
when midnight craving hit, perhaps sanji's kitchen chores can wait.
tags : 18+, nsfw, established relationship, soft dom sanji, or pathetic sanji, kitchen sex, masturbation, spit, , oral sex (f!receiving)
a/n : can’t believe we’ve reached 1k . thank you so much u guys, for your kindness and support ♡
☆ masterlist ★
The kitchen was usually a sanctuary of quiet efficiency after midnight for Sanji. He was in his element, meticulously wiping down the counters as he hummed a quiet tune under his breath.
When the heavy wooden door creaked open, he didn’t even need to look up to know it was you. The shift in the room's energy, the soft patter of bare feet against the floorboards, was enough to make his heart skip a beat.
He glanced over his shoulder, a soft smile instantly gracing his lips as he saw you standing in the doorway, rubbing your eyes, looking small and still half-asleep. Your curls slightly flattened from sleep, a few soft coils spilling freely around your face as you stood there, clothes hanging loosely on your frame as if you had been gently pulled out of a dream. You looked unfairly beautiful in Sanji's eyes, the kind of beauty that made his chest tighten without warning.
“You should be in bed, my love,” he murmured, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. "The night air is cold, and a beautiful creature like you needs their rest. Go back to the bedroom."
You didn’t move. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest, a heavy, exaggerated pout settling on your face as you leaned against the doorframe. “I can't sleep,” you said, your voice thick with exhaustion and a distinct note of frustration.
Sanji’s expression softened instantly, his protective instincts kicking. He tossed the towel onto the counter and turned to face you fully, wiping his hands on his apron. “Do you want me to make you some tea perhaps? A little warm milk with honey to help you drift off?”
“Noo,” you whined, stretching out the word as you walked further into the kitchen, your eyes locked onto his. You stopped just a few feet away, looking at him with pure accusation. "I want my boyfriend in my bed.”
Sanji let out a breathless, weak laugh, his chest tightening at the sheer sweetness — and the agonizing temptation — of your words. He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing a faint pink. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up right then and there, carry you back to the dark warmth of your shared room, and hold you until morning. But the kitchen was a mess from Luffy's midnight raid, and if he didn't finish now, breakfast would be late.
“Don't tease, baby, I am almost done,” he pleaded softly, offering you a reassuring, apologetic smile. "Just give me ten more minutes to finish scrubbing this counter, and I'll be all yours."
Instead of going back to the room, you walked over to the long wooden dining table. With a slow, fluid motion, you climbed up and laid down on it lazily, propping your head up with one hand while stretching your legs out across the dark wood.
"Ten minutes is too long, Sanji," you sighed, tracing a mindless circle on the table. "It's so cold in that bed without you."
Sanji turned back to the counter, trying desperately to focus, but his heart was hammering against his ribs. "Really, hm? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to corrupt your hard-working cook."
"Maybe I am," you purred, shifting your weight, the fabric of your sleepwear rustling softly in the quiet room. "Or maybe I'm just thinking about what those hands of yours could be doing instead of holding a dish towel. You're so good with your hands, Sanji. It's a shame to waste them on countertops."
The cigarette between his lips flared bright orange. "Sweetheart, please," he groaned, his voice dropping an octave, a sudden wave of heat washing over his skin. "You have no idea how hard it is to stay over here right now."
Holding his gaze, you slowly slid your hand down your stomach, your fingers slipping effortlessly beneath the waistband of your panties.
Sanji completely froze. He couldn't take his eyes off you. He watched painfully frustrated, as the fabric of your underwear tented over your fingers. He looked so incredibly hot and bothered, his jaw tight and his chest heaving as his breathing turned shallow and ragged, already sounding like a complete mess.
"Ah... god," Sanji choked out, setting his cigarette down safely and taking a heavy, helpless step toward the table. He looked absolutely ruined just by the sight of you, completely intoxicated by how effortlessly beautiful you were. "You are... you are absolutely perfect, my love. Look at you."
He leaned his hands on the edge of the table. He was transfixed, on the movement of your hand under the cotton fabric.
"You're so gorgeous like this," he whispered, his voice trembling with lust. But as he leaned in closer, desperate to touch you, you stopped him with a sharp look.
"No," you whispered, your fingers dipping deeper into your panties, the friction producing a soft, wet sound that echoed loudly in the quiet kitchen.
You kept your eyes locked onto his, your hips rolling slightly against your own hand. You were punishing him. Punishing him for prioritizing his chores over you, for telling you to go back to bed instead of welcoming you into his arms the moment you walked through the door.
Sanji’s breath hitched. He took a desperate step forward, completely unable to focus on anything but the agonizingly beautiful sight of you taking care of yourself right in front of him.
"Ah—wait, please," he choked out. "Let me... please let me help you. You shouldn't have to do that yourself when I'm right here."
"I said no," you commanded.
Sanji stepped closer anyway, desperate, his hands reaching out instinctively to touch your knees, to pry your legs further apart so he could finally bury his face between them. But as he leaned in, you raised your leg, pressing your foot firmly against his chest, right over his racing heart, stopping him in his tracks.
"Stay there," you told him.
Sanji gasped, your resistance only fueling the fire in his blood. He didn't push your foot away. Instead, his hands came up to gently cup your ankle, and with an expression of pure devotion, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to the arch of your foot. He couldn't help himself. He was entirely at your mercy already, begging with his eyes as you continued to finger yourself, rubbing over your soaking wet clit under his worshipful gaze.
You let out a plaintive whimper, and it breaks his heart. You slid two fingers deep inside your tight folds, tracing your sensitive walls while your thumb frantically worked your swollen nub. "Mean Sanji," you complained, your voice breaking into a breathless, irritated pout. "I can't reach it. It’s your fault. It's all your fault."
Sanji looked up at you from where he was held at bay, his eyes blown wide with desperation. "My fault? Tell me how to fix it, please—"
"If you had been a good boy," you gasped, arching your back off the wooden table. "If you had just taken care of me from the start, I'd let you touch me. But you weren't. So now I can't even focus."
The words good boy seemed to snap something deep inside him. Sanji dropped heavily to his knees before the table, his hands gripping the wood. "Please," he begged you, "please, let me do it. Let me fix it. Don't punish me like this, I'll do anything. Just let me make you come, please, my love."
Instead of answering him, you reached up with your free hand and slid it under your top, cupping your own breast. You squeezed it, rolling your nipple between your fingers, letting out a soft, needy moan that made Sanji's knees go weak.
"Sanji..." you sighed his name out loud, but your tone wasn't an invitation, it was a reprimand. You kept pumping your fingers inside yourself, your hips rolling against your hand. "You're such a bad boyfriend. Leaving me all alone in that cold bed while you worry about your kitchen.”
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my love," Sanji begged, his hand instinctively dropping down to grasp his own crotch, grinding his throbbing length into his palm right through his trousers. He let out a loud, ragged groan. "I'll be better, I swear. Just let me touch you. Look at how beautiful you are... you're absolutely perfect, driving me entirely insane.”
You didn’t acknowledge his begging once again and instead, you slowly hooked your index finger under the elastic band of your panties and slid the fabric completely to the side. You parted your thighs wider, showing your swollen folds to him. Your pussy was dripping, completely soaked, with your own thick cream coating your fingers.
Sanji let out a pathetic whimper at the sight, his eyes blowing wide with pure desperation. “Fuck so wet… so gorgeous. God, please, let me clean you up.”
Finally, you stopped your fingers, pulling them out with a wet pop. You looked down at his ruined form. “Come closer,” you whispered.
Sanji moved forward like a starving man, his face hovering just inches from your pussy, his lips parted as he panted heavily, and you plunged your fingers soaked in your juices, into his mouth. His tongue tickles your fingers as he moans.
When you remove your fingers, you lean down slightly, and deliberately spit directly into his waiting mouth. Sanji swallowed it instantly, his throat bobbing as he whimpered, a dark flush spreading across his cheeks. You leaned down further, reaching out to fist your fingers tightly into his soft blond hair. You tugged firmly, before you dragged his face down exactly where you wanted it.
Instead of letting him touch your bare skin yet, you pressed his mouth flush against the damp fabric of your panties, keeping your hand tangled firmly in his hair. He immediately began kissing you right through the cloth, his hot breath soaking into the material. “Taste how wet you made me through my clothes.”
Sanji whimpered loudly, his hands gripping the edges of the table so hard the wood groaned. "Please... yes, my love, anything," he choked out, completely drunk on you.
"Good boy. Now kiss the lace. Lick it clean," you murmured, pushing his face back down.
He didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. He began to worship you exactly the way you demanded, tracing the damp outline of your pussy through the fabric with the flat of his tongue. He groaned into your lap, the deep, vibrating sound rumbling right against your sensitive core, making your own hips twitch. You pulled his hair again, directing his mouth to the soaked center, commanding him to suck the wet cotton until he was completely drenched in your scent.
Only when you were completely satisfied by his work, you slowly slide the fabric down to your legs, with his little help. “Now, make me cum baby.”
Sanji didn’t waste another second, driven entirely mad by the taste of your juice, and buried his face directly into your soaking wet pussy.
He didn't just touch you, he devoured you. He slammed his mouth against your clit, his tongue sweeping over your sensitive opening in long, heavy, greedy strokes. He spread your soaking wet lips wide with his thumbs, forcing his tongue deep inside your creaming hole, mimicking the motion of a hard fuck before pulling back to suck your engorged clit into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around it, biting gently until you were screaming. Every loud whine and sob that left your lips was met with a deeper press of his mouth, swallowing down every single drop of your sweet juices as you creamed directly onto his face.
But as he swallowed your sweetness, as your frantic essence coated his tongue and lips, something in Sanji began to shift. The taste of you was too intoxicating, making him utterly drunk. The hunger didn't fade, it grew stronger and more demanding. The gentle, compliant cook was fading away, replaced by something much more dominant.
He caught your hips, pinning you flat against the hard wooden table. When he pulled his face away, his lips were slick and shining, his gaze dark and heavy under his blond bangs.
"You're so cruel to me," Sanji whispered, his voice suddenly smooth, not begging anymore. "Making me wait. Making me watch. You've been a very bad girl, ruining my kitchen like this."
Before you could even process the sudden switch in his demeanor, Sanji hooked your legs over his broad shoulders. His large hand reached down, quickly unzipping his trousers and freeing his thick cock, already leaking heavy pre-cum. He didn’t wait a single second and aligned his aching head directly against your soaking little hole, and drove into you, his head carving a place for itself inside you.
You moan as your fingers tangled into his shirt, your body already overwhelmed by the thick stretch of his head. You were completely ruined by it, and so was he. Sanji let out a loud groan, his chest heaving as he stared down at you.
He pinned your hands above your head against the table, his grip firm and possessive, yet his lips still pressed soft kisses along your jaw and neck.
He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as his hips gave a slow, testing shove. "Look at you, already so tight for me,” he murmured. "You wanted your boyfriend in your bed, sweetheart?.” He laughed under his breath. "You've got me now. Let's see what happens when you play with me.”
just making a random little post to talk with you all because i realized i almost never do that...
are you guys watching the fifa world cup? who are you rooting for? i'm mostly cheering for France and Haiti, but i have a soft spot for pretty much every south american team too.
also, what are you reading right now? books, fanfics, manga, anything. what's the fandom currently living rent-free in your head?
mine is definitely Michael Jackson at the moment. the Michael movie has completely consumed me. body, mind, soul, everything.
i might go see Disclosure Day later today. if you've seen it, let me know what you thought!
come talk to me, i'm curious to hear what everyone's been up to lately ♡
Could u maybe do more shanks smut like when he is jealous?
love and jealousy | shanks x f!reader
After months apart at sea, Shanks finally comes back to you — jealous, exhausted, and far more emotional than he’ll ever admit.
tags : 18+ only, smut, jealous shanks, possessive shanks, fluff, shanks is a softy, silly softy shanks, use of nicknames, established relationship
☆ masterlist ★
The Red Force had dropped anchor near the little coastal island. As they approached the coast, a soft sense of familiarity settled over the crew, along with the promise of a moment of peace and plenty of booze. They had become something strangely close to regulars over the years.
And if anyone asked Lucky or even Benn, they'd swear there was only one reason they kept finding excuses to stop by this tiny island in the middle of nowhere.
You.
More specifically, your tavern.
The place sat just a few steps from the shore, warm light spilling from its windows every evening like an invitation to anyone seeking good food, strong drinks, and a place to forget the world outside for a few hours. You ran it with the kind of confidence that made even the roughest sailor sit back down after a single look.
The locals adored you too much. And the crew, well, the crew had practically adopted the place as a second home.
The first few visits had started innocently enough, nothing more than a casual stop, somewhere to fill their stomach for the night after a long day on the sea. Good drinks, good atmosphere.
Then one visit became two. Two became ten. Then suddenly the crew had somehow reached the point where Lucky walked into the kitchen like he owned it, Yasopp complained if his usual seat was taken, and Benn had his own corner table without anyone needing to ask.
And Shanks.
Shanks had become a completely different story. Because somewhere between long conversations after closing hours, late nights spent sharing drinks, and waiting at the docks whenever the Red Force disappeared for months at sea...
He'd fallen quite hard for you. You'd quickly become the pretty owner Shanks couldn’t stop smiling at.
And now whenever Shanks announced they were making another stop here, nobody even questioned it anymore, because everyone knew their captain wasn't coming back for the tavern itself. He was coming back for you.
Tonight, the tavern is louder than usual. Music spills from the corner where Lucky has somehow convinced a few drunken sailors to sing along to a sea song completely off-key. Shanks usually loves this kind of atmosphere. He would be the one laughing the loudest, setting up foolish little bets with the locals. He’d hook an arm around someone’s shoulder as he walked past, a lazy sway in his step, and drink like there was no tomorrow.
But tonight, he hasn't heard a single word Benn has said for the last ten minutes because his eyes are entirely locked on you. More specifically, on the way you're smiling, on the way your head tilts back when you laugh, and on the way your fingers absentmindedly toy with the rim of your glass while listening to some visiting merchant ramble on beside you.
Shanks narrows his eyes. The man is handsome, he'll give him that. Clean clothes, expensive rings, the type who probably made a living charming people before selling them anything. And the bastard is good at it. Too good perhaps, because you're laughing. Not the polite kind way, but more like the real one. The one Shanks knows all too well. The one he waits for after long weeks at sea.
The guy leans a little closer, and some more until his hand settles on your shoulder, subtly caressing the little bit of skin that isn't covered by your top..
The wood beneath Shanks's fingers creaks.
"You're going to break the mug, Captain." Benn doesn't even bother looking up from his cards.
Shanks says nothing as his gaze never leaves you. Across the room, you still haven't noticed him watching. Still smiling and listening to this random guy. Still letting that man's hand linger where Shanks suddenly wishes it wasn't.
Something hot and ugly twists low in his chest and he hates the feeling immediately. A strange mix of anger and fear. Fear wrapped in jealousy, buried under irritation.
Because Shanks knows he doesn't own you. Knows you stay because you choose to, and that if you ever wanted to walk away he couldn't stop you.
His jaw tightens. Then he drains the rest of his drink in one swallow and slams the mug down hard enough that nearby conversations briefly pause. The lazy grin he usually wears is gone.
Before the merchant can even finish whatever story he's telling, a heavy arm slides firmly around your waist, pulling you back against his familiar warmth. Flush against his side, almost claiming.
"Is this guy bothering you, sweetheart?" Shanks's voice was smooth.
The merchant freezes as he slowly looks up and pales instantly. Because suddenly he isn't in front of some random tavern guest anymore. He's standing face to face with an Yonko.
You blink in confusion, looking between the two men. "Hm? No?" You frown slightly. "We were just talking."
The merchant immediately nods a little too eagerly. "Y-Yes! We were talking about the different islands near the Grand Line."
"Oh!" Your face brightens as you turn toward Shanks, completely oblivious to the tension beginning to coil around you. "Actually, he was telling me one of his stories –" A small laugh escapes you. "You'll like this one. Apparently he accidentally sold an entire shipment to pirates once because he thought they were merchants and –"
You look up at Shanks, expecting his usual grin or the amused spark in his eyes. But instead you find him staring straight at the man, his jaw tight.
"...Shanks?" You call his name softly.
The merchant shifts awkwardly under the weight of his gaze. "I-It was actually pretty funny—"
"Great," Shanks cuts in smoothly, dark eyes never leaving the man's face. “Doll face, can you make me a new drink please?”
The merchant blinks, looking between the two of you, the sudden realization of who he’s dealing with making him take a polite step back.
You roll your eyes at the ridiculous nickname, but you still head towards the other side of the bar. “I thought you had every right to help yourself as you pleased in this bar, Captain," you tease him. “And Benn is literally sitting right next to a full barrel," you counter with a small smile tugging at your lips.
"Yeah, but Benn's drinks taste like gunpowder and misery," Shanks whines softly, his voice taking on that childish, exaggerated tone he only uses with you. "Please? I’ve been at sea for months. My throat is parched."
With a sparkle in your eyes, you busied yourself preparing two brightly colored cocktails, one for Shanks and the other for the young merchant, who was slowly beginning to lose color the longer he stayed closer to him.
You slide the first glass across the polished wood toward the merchant, giving him a warm, reassuring wink. "On the house," you hum smoothly. "For the trouble."
“T-Thank you,” he looked at the beautiful little drink you just made, and then at your encouraging smile, and somehow found courage beside the terrifying aura of the Yonko.
"Actually... since it’s on the house, would you do me the honor of sharing a toast with me, beautiful?"
He reaches out, his fingers boldly brushing against yours as he takes the glass.
Shanks’s eye doesn’t just twitch, his entire face tenses. Before you can even answer, he grabs his own brightly colored cocktail to lift it high in the air with a forced grin. "A toast! Yes, let's toast!" Shanks exclaims, his voice a little too loud, completely disrupting the tavern's vibe. He slams his glass against the merchant’s with enough force to make the liquid slosh over the rim. "To you leaving right after this drink! Cheers, pal!"
You chuckle softly behind your counter, amused by Shanks' childish behavior.
The merchant stammers. "I—uh—"
"You know," Shanks continues smoothly, completely ignoring the merchant. "If it's bright and colorful things you like, sweetheart, you should see the coral reefs in the New World. I fought a giant Sea King there once. Sunset was just like this drink.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying your absolute best not to burst out laughing. He is trying to charm you, like a lovesick teenager bragging on a playground.
"Oh, really?" you tease, leaning your elbows on the bar and looking at him. "A Sea King? Wow, Shanks. That sounds much more interesting than a merchant who actually travels the world to sell beautiful silks."
Shanks gasps softly, looking deeply offended. He looks at you, then snaps his head toward the merchant, eyeing the man's expensive, shiny rings.
"Silks? You like silks?!" Shanks babbles. “I can get you silks! I'll wrap this entire tavern in silk by tomorrow morning!! Benn!" he yells across the room without looking. "How many silk ships can we find by sunrise?!"
From his corner table, Benn doesn't even look up from his cards. "Zero, Captain. Leave the poor girl alone and drink your juice."
Shanks chokes on his own breath, looking betrayed by his own first mate. He snaps his head back toward the merchant, who is currently looking a little smug now.
"Oh, you think that's funny, huh?" Shanks grumbles. He turns to you, "Does he even know, your dear friend here, that I can make punks like him faint on the spot just with my Haki?"
A genuine laugh escapes you at such childishness. "Shanks, stop it!" you laugh. You immediately turn to the young merchant, whose face has lost absolutely all its color. “Please don’t listen to him, he’s just kidding. He makes very bad jokes sometimes."
"I-I see..." the merchant stammers, his hand shaking so badly his glass nearly slips from his fingers.
“I think it’s your cue to go big boy,” Shanks said, downing the cocktail in one gulp.
The poor man sets his cocktail on the counter and almost sprints toward the doors, disappearing into the night as if his life depended on it.
You let out a theatrical sight, even though your eyes were shining with amusement at Shanks’ behavior. He leans against your bar counter, his face against the cool wood, pouting a little bit. "What's wrong, Shanks? Don't tell me the great Yonko is throwing a tantrum because I was nice to a customer."
"I am not throwing a tantrum!" Shanks fires back, his head snapping toward you. His cheeks are flushed a furious pink that has absolutely nothing to do with alcohol. “It’s just bad business practice to give free drinks to guys who wear too many rings. It's unprofessional."
"Right. Unprofessional," you mimic, your smirk widening. "So it has nothing to do with the fact that he was touching my shoulder?"
Shanks tries to hold his defensive glare for three more seconds, but under your teasing gaze, his pride completely crumbles. He lets out a long and dramatic whine, dropping again his forehead right onto the bar counter.
You reach out with your free hand, gently running your fingers through his red locks, scratching his scalp the way you know he loves. Almost immediately he leans into your touch, shifting closer until his cheek rests against your hand.
“Don’t like it, he was too close to you.” He starts with his dramatic whiny voice. “And you were laughing at his stupid stories! I've been sleeping on a rocky ship for three months, dreaming about coming back here to see you, and the moment I arrive, you're smiling at some kid who probably doesn't even know how to tie a knot!" He pouts, reaching for you, his calloused fingers wrapping around your wrist.
You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head as you watch him. "Shanks, you are an absolute idiot."
“It's his fault. He shouldn't have tried to steal my favorite girl."
“Your favorite girl? Is that so?” You laugh, your fingers gently tugging at a stray red lock near his ear.
Shanks tilts his head up, his chin in your palm now, with his dusting pink cheeks. "Yes, it is so," he grumbles, tightening his grip on your wrist just enough to draw your hand down to his lips, planting a soft kiss right against your knuckles, his dark eyes looking up at you like a needy puppy.
You find Shanks absolutely adorable like this — slightly vulnerable, quietly exposing his feelings in his own clumsy way. So you lean in and plant a quick kiss on his hair. Shanks blinks, his stubborn expression melting into a soft smile.
“You’re cruel,” he murmurs. “Teasing a tired pirate like this.”
"If you're so tired, maybe you should go rest in the back room," you whisper, a wicked little glint returning to your eyes. "Unless you'd rather stay here and keep an eye out for more merchants?"
Shanks scoffs. He stands up straight, his grip on your wrist tightening as he gently leads you along the bar to walk around it. He wraps an arm around your waist, and suddenly it feels like your feet aren’t even touching the ground. He entirely ignores the loud wolf-whistles that erupt from Lucky and Yasopp's table as he guides toward the quiet hallway.
When the door of your private room clicks shut, he steep right into your space, wrapping his strong arm completely around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck with a contented groan. He holds you so tightly you can barely breathe, molding your body completely against his. “Finally,” he breathes against your skin, his lips brushing your collarbone. “No more merchants, just you.”
"Are you done pouting?" you ask softly, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, holding him just as close.
"No," he mutters playfully, his teeth gently nipping the sensitive skin right under your ear. He pulls back just enough to look down at you. "I still need to be properly compensated for all the stress you caused my heart out there."
"Compensated, huh?" You smirk, your hands sliding down his chest to fiddle with the buttons of his shirt. "And what exactly does the great Yonko require to feel better?"
"Everything," Shanks whispers.
He leans down, his mouth catching yours in a kiss that is incredibly slow, and sweet. There’s no rush, no anger. His tongue slides into your mouth with a lazy rhythm, tasting you thoroughly while his hand slides under your shirt, against your bare waist as he gently guides you backward toward the bed.
While still tangled in the deep kiss, you slip your hands down to his broad shoulders.You use your movements to slowly turn him around, until he’s the one who ends up sitting on the edge of the bed.
Shanks looks up at you with wide, slightly dazed eyes. His red hair is beautifully messy, his cheeks are still flushed, and he finds himself completely trapped as you stand tall right between his spread legs.
A slow smirk spreads across your face. “There… exactly at eye level.”
Shanks lets out a soft chuckle, as his single arm comes around you, pulling you a fraction closer to him. "You really like taking advantage of a tired captain, don't you?" he grumbles playfully, tilting his head back to look up at you.
"Someone has to keep you in check," you tease, your fingers reaching down to gently trace his jawline.
“You right… Maybe a merchant’s gonna steal me away otherwise.” And just like that, Shanks is back, playful and mischievous, with that familiar grin creeping onto his face.
You let out a soft gasp. "Oh, is that so? Are you threatening to leave with the next ship that sells shiny rings, Captain?"
"Hey, a guy's got to feel appreciated," Shanks teases, tilting his head farther back to look up at you. "I'm just saying, if my favorite girl is too busy laughing at other people's jokes, I might have to find someone else to buy me drinks."
"You wouldn't dare," you whisper, leaning down slightly so your face is just inches from his. The proximity makes his breath hitch as his gaze drops instinctively to your lips.
Your fingers caress the nape of his neck and play with the buttons of his shirt. He always has this habit of wearing his shirt very loose, leaving the first four buttons open, his chest on display for everyone to see. As you undo the very last button and help slide the fabric off his shoulders, he leans closer to try and kiss you. But you quickly push him back, and he lets himself fall heavily onto the bed.
He groans, but his flirty smirk doesn’t fade. “Come on, baby, don’t play with me like that.”
You let out a soft, muffled laugh, crossing your arms over your chest as you look down at him. You take your time to admire him. His red hair is beautifully fanned out against the sheets, framing the face you missed so much, and your gaze slowly roams down his sculpted sun chest. New scars have appeared since the last time you saw him, but he still looks just as powerful. "Who says I’m playing?" you tease him, tilting your head slightly.
"Okay, fine," he whispers. He sits up slowly, his hand already magnetically drawn to your thigh. "I wouldn't dare. I'm completely helpless against you, and you know it."
"Good," you hum.. "I'm glad we understand each other."
Shanks lets out a soft and defeated laugh. His hand on your thigh slides upward, his thumb hooking into the waistband of your clothes to tug you forward until you’re forced to straddle his lap, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.
He immediately buries his face right into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. He drinks in your scent – bar soap, sweet alcohol, and just you.
“I missed you so much,” he mumbles against your skin, sounding a little pouty. “You have no idea, every single night on the sea just thinking about you, missing how you smell, how soft you are … and then this silly little boy all over you and touching you.”
He brings up the boy again and you let out a soft laugh, your fingers instantly tangling in his messy red hair to scratch his scalp. "Are you still thinking about the merchant, Shanks?"
"Yes!" he groans, shifting his head to press his hot face into your chest. He sounds so ridiculous like this, sulking like a teenager. "It’s so stupid. I know it’s silly.” He tilts his head back up, looking at you with wide, almost hopeless eyes. "I don't want anyone else looking at you. Kiss me. Please."
“Aww, my sweet lover boy.” You don’t make him wait this time. You lean down and press your lips to his. Shanks lets out a needy whimper against your lips, instantly deepening the kiss with such hunger.
He is definitely taking what he’s been starving for over the last three months, tasting you thoroughly while his arm locks around your lower back, grinding your hips down against his hardening length. The friction makes a soft gasp catch in your throat, which Shanks drinks right away.
His hand moves over your body, sliding under your shirt to map out every inch of you, your waist, your ribs, your belly. He needs to touch you everywhere, to reassure himself that you are actually here with him.
Breaking the kiss just an inch, his lips trail down your jawline to your throat, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin until he finds the sweet spot right where your neck meets your shoulder. He bites down gently, making you arch into him with a quiet whine.
"You're mine," Shanks mutters darkly against your heated skin, his breath hitching as his hand slides down to the hem of your shirt. “You were so pretty tonight, so soft,” he impatiently pulled your shirt up and over your head to toss it blindly onto the floor. "Tell me you're mine."
You grin a little, your hips moving against him. God, he was being completely ridiculous, and possessive, and dramatic, acting like someone was about to steal you away from him. And yet, he sounded so good like this, so desperate for you.
"I'm yours, Shanks," you breathe out, your hands sliding over his broad shoulders. “It’s okay, I am here now.”
The word drives him entirely over the edge. With a low, guttural growl, Shanks grips your hip and rolls you over in one smooth, powerful motion. The world tilts, and suddenly you are flat on your back against the mattress.
He leans down, completely burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. His lips slide down to the junction of your jaw, pressing bruising kisses there, before his tongue licks over the spot he bit just moments before. A sharp, needy gasp escapes your lips as Shanks shifts his weight, sliding his knee between your thighs to force them open. He presses his hips firmly into yours, the friction through his pants sending a delicious wave of heat straight to your core.
"I want you to be so loud the whole crew downstairs hears exactly who you belong to."
You move your hands over his body as best you can, appreciating every curve of his strong, healthy frame. You feel goosebumps rise on his skin as your hands drift dangerously toward his pants. And while he loses himself in your scent, he feels your fingers moving between your bodies, your knuckles brushing against the soft hair of his happy trail.
“What are you up to?” he grumbles, reluctant to pull away from your hair to see where your hands have gone.
“I’m trying to take off my shorts,” you reply simply, accidentally rolling your hips against him as you struggle out of the denim shorts.
He groans even louder, pressing his mouth against the swell of your breasts, still sitting perfectly high in your lacy bra. That stupid baby pink bra looked so good against your skin tone.
“Let me.” He helps you take off your denim shorts and your panties down your legs and kicks them off the edge of the bed. You barely have time to breathe before he slides down your body, his tongue tracing a burning path down your stomach. He wastes no time and buries his face directly between your thighs.
It’s so overwhelming that you whine out loud. “Shanks – no please, I want you inside me,” you gasp, your fingers gripping his red hair.
He groans against your wet skin.
He groans against your wet skin, a vibration that shivers right through your thighs. He doesn't pull away, instead, he grips your hips to pin you firmly to the mattress while his tongue does its work.
"Just a taste, sweetheart," he mutters between your thighs. "Just let me have a little taste first. I've been starving for so long."
He parts your swollen folds with his thumb and dives back in with hunger. His tongue licks and sucks at your sensitive clit slowly, making your head toss back against the pillows.
Every stroke of his tongue is messy, as if he were drinking your nectar like a dying man parched with thirst, consuming every single drop of your wetness. He plunges his nose deep between your folds to inhale your scent, completely losing himself in the comfort of your warmth.
You let out a loud, broken cry, your hips bucking helplessly against his mouth as your fingers dig deep into his messy hair. You want him inside you so badly it aches, but his tongue drives you crazy too. "Shanks... ah! Please..." you whimper, your toes curling into the sheets as you try to pull him up.
He lets out a muffled groan, absolutely pleased by how loud you are for him. He gives one last wet lick right over your sweet spot, before he stops torturing you. His cheeks are flushed and his lips are glistening with your wetness.
When he drags himself back up on the mattress, his eyes are so dilated. Your own hand instinctively slips down between your legs, driven by the need to feel something filling you. You slide two of your own fingers deep into your soaking wet entrance.
Shanks freezes, completely captivated, completely hypnotized by the sight of your delicate fingers moving in and out of your swollen folds. When your fingers slide all the way out, he stares, fascinated by how heavily coated they are in your own wetness, glistening under the dim light of the room.
An arrogant chuckle escapes his lips. He looks at your hand, then up at your flushed face. To him, your fingers look almost ridiculous trying to satisfy an ache that big. He knows your thin and delicate hand won't ever be enough to make you come, not when your body is practically begging for his cock.
"Look at you," Shanks murmurs. "You're so beautiful like this, sweetheart. So desperate for me. But those pretty little fingers aren't going to fix this, are they?"
"Please, Shanks," you whimper, tilting your hips up. "Do it. Use your fingers. Please."
"Keep them there," he commands softly. "Don't take your hand away." He slides his large hand down, his fingers crowding into the tight space right alongside yours. The contrast is intoxicating. Your small fingers working in tandem with his calloused hand, stretching you beautifully as he begins a deep, heavy stroking motion. The wet sound of your pussy fills the quiet bedroom, sending a sudden rush of heat to your cheeks.
“Yes, just like that,” Shanks mutters, biting his lip, completely captivated and overwhelmed by the contrast between your two hands. His large frame trembles slightly, intoxicated by the heat radiating from your skin. Looking down at you, he’s struck by the sight of you so flushed and pliant, allowing him to touch you so intimately after months apart.
"God, I adore you," he finds himself saying. "You have no idea how much I missed you.” You let out a broken whine, your hips jerking helplessly against his large hand. "You're mine, doll face... everything about you is mine," he confesses rawly, his gaze dropping to the beautiful, heavy swell of your breasts. “Look at what you do to me. I'm so obsessed with you. I'd do absolutely anything for you."
The double friction of your hands working together sends a violent electric wave of pleasure straight to your core. You can feel the orgasm building, threatening to shatter you right then and there. But you desperately want more, aching for something much bigger. “Shanks,” you sob out, your free hand clutching at his pants, your hips jerking helplessly against his large palm. “Please Shanks, I want you, put it inside me.”
Hearing you beg for him, using your sweetest voice, shatters the last thread of Shanks's restraint. "God, you're going to be the death of me.”
He abruptly pulls his large hand away from your soaking warmth, and you let out a weak, needy whine at the sudden loss of friction. He clumsily gets his pants off as best as he can. When he settles back down between your spread legs, his hot skin pressing directly against your inner thighs makes your breath hitch. He is massive, his slick tip brushing hungrily against your aching entrance.
Your hands slide down, wrapping securely around the base of his throbbing cock. Shanks freezes instantly, as your fingers close around him. He feels incredibly heavy in your hands, pulsing between your fingers.
You begin to stroke him, your palm sliding slowly up his shaft, feeling the rigid veins beneath his smooth skin. You give a soft, playful tug, "I missed your dick so much, Shanks."
A loud, strangled groan escapes his lips, his head tossing back as his jaw clenches tight. "Fuck, sweetheart... don't say things like that when I'm already this close."
You just grin, your inner tease taking over. Instead of letting him slide inside, you pull his length up and begin to slide it deliberately against your own soaked core. You trail his thick shaft right over your clit, coating him in your wetness while a needy whimper escapes your own lips. Then, you press the head of his cock right against your opening, letting it nudge your swollen folds without actually letting him sink in.
Shanks completely loses his mind. His single arm slams down onto the mattress right beside your head, his fingers clawing into the sheets as his entire body shakes with the effort not to just sink into you.
"You're a menace," he pants, his dark eyes wide, dazed, and completely desperate as he stares down at where your bodies are rubbing together. "An absolute menace. Playtime is over, doll face."
Before you can tease him any further, Shanks grips your hip with a bruising force and slowly sinks his hips down. He buries his full length into your tight heat in one long, agonizingly deep push.
A loud, broken cry echoes through the quiet bedroom as your body stretches to accommodate him. You moan loudly as he fills you so well. It’s exactly what you were starving for.
Shanks goes completely still, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles twitch, as your tight walls pulse frantically around him, welcoming him home. He buries his face back into your neck, his breath coming in ragged pants as he waits for you to adjust to his size.
"Fuck, you're so tight," he rasps, his single arm wrapping completely beneath your lower back to lift your hips higher, locking your pelvis flush against his. "Hold on to me, baby. Just like that."
The moment you wrap your legs tightly around his waist, anchoring him deep inside you, Shanks completely loses his mind. He begins to move, his hips pulling back until he is almost entirely out before plunging back in. The wet, slapping sound of his skin hitting yours fills the room, accompanied by your soft moans. Every thrust is deep, aimed directly at the sweet spot that makes your toes curl.
Your fingers are digging deep into his back as the pleasure starts to build up. He grumbles, his pace turning fast and punishing as he senses your climax nearing. He kisses you fiercely. "Forget everything else. Just feel me. Know it's me inside you."
The frantic, punishing speed of his hips sends you completely over the edge. Your vision is blurred by brilliant bursts of white light as your walls convulse around him, clamping down on his thick length. His name falls from your lips over and over in soft whispers, your thighs shaking violently where they are locked around his waist.
Shanks lets out a raw groan at the exquisite torture of your climax squeezing him. He doesn't slow down, instead, he drives into you even harder, chasing his own release through the tight, pulsing heat of your orgasm.
"That's it, cry for me," he pants heavily, his face buried deep in your hair as his chest heaves against yours. "Let it out, sweetheart. You're so fucking good around me."
With three more deep thrusts, Shanks stiffens completely. He bites your shoulder as he buries himself into you as far as he can. His heavy body pinned you flush against the bed as his hips shuddered violently, pouring his release deep inside you.
The room falls quiet, save for the sound of your mingled, ragged breathing. Shanks remains heavy on top of you for a long moment, completely spent, his forehead resting against your shoulder. Slowly, he shifts his weight to his elbow, looking down at you with a gaze that is soft, lazy, and utterly overflowing with adoration. His red hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat, and that familiar, doting smile creeps back onto his face.
He leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin.
"See?" he murmurs, his voice a low, rumbling purr as his thumb gently traces your cheek. "I told you those pretty little fingers couldn't fix it. You just needed your captain."
//
You let out a breathless laugh, your hands, still weakly tangled in his messy red hair, lazily smooth down the damp locks at the nape of his neck. "You're a menace, Captain" you murmur, your voice dropping into a tired, affectionate whisper that lacks any real bite.
"Only for you, doll face," he murmurs, a soft, incredibly tender smile breaking across his handsome face.
With a slow, heavy sigh, he reluctantly slides his length out of your body, making you let out a small, disappointed whine at the sudden loss of his heat. Shanks immediately shushes you with a tender, lingering kiss to your forehead.
With a soft sigh, he rolls onto his side, taking you with him as the thought of letting you go simply isn't an option. One arm stays wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you tucked against his chest as your legs tangle together beneath the sheets. Then you feel his lips brush the crook of your neck, pressing a lazy trail of kisses along your skin before settling there with a content hum.
For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet except for the sound of your slowing breaths. Exhaustion settles heavily over your limbs, your bodies still warm from one another as you remain tangled together beneath the sheets. Shanks's fingers trace absentminded patterns against your side, and for a while, that's enough. Then, eventually, he breaks the comfortable silence.
"I mean it," he whispers, all traces of teasing gone from his voice. "I was miserable without you." You lift your head slightly, surprised by the raw honesty in his tone. "I kept thinking about you." His fingers tighten where they're resting against your side. "Wondering what you were doing. Who you were talking to." He pauses. "Whether some idiot was making you laugh more than me."
A soft laugh escapes you. "Shanks—"
"There were days I caught myself reaching for you before I remembered you weren't there." He lets out a small, self-conscious laugh. "Pathetic, huh?"
Your heart melts instantly. You wrap your arms around his neck and tuck your face against him. "Not pathetic," you murmur. "I missed you too."
For a moment, he says nothing. His arm only tightens around you, as though he can't quite hold you close enough. Then he buries his face in the crook of your neck with a content sigh. "Good," he whispers. “I don’t think I could go through that again.”
A smile tugs at your lips. "You crossed half the Grand Line."
"Yeah." He presses a kiss to your skin. "Worst decision of my life." You laugh softly, and he hums in satisfaction, already sounding half asleep. "You’re all that I need,” he murmurs.
Nanami was fast asleep, back towards you the only sound being his soft snores that feel up the empty and dark room. Well, almost dark. Your screen was dimly lit as you doom scrolled.
Instagram, TikTok, Pinterest—repeat. You weren’t tired although you promised your husband you’d atleast try to start getting some proper sleep.
You also complain about how unfair it is, how easy he can fall asleep. But you guess that’s just the perks of old age. You turn your sound up a bit as you scroll through reels. Not even five minutes later, Nanami’s up.
His eyebrows furrow as he adjusts his eyesight. “Honey.” His tired voice rings in your ear, you discard your phone elsewhere on the bed. “I tried, I can’t it’s hard for me to fall asleep quickly.” He lets out a huff before pulling you into his chest where you can his heartbeat.
“Maybe, if you reduced the time you spend on your phone before bed—“ he kisses the top of your head. “Then maybe you might be able to go to sleep.”
You let out a weary sigh, “I’ve tried that.” You can hear him scoff. “baby love, you tried it for two minutes and you went back on your phone. “Yeah.” You nod, “still effort.” You feel him shake from the vibration of his laughter. “A for effort.” He teases.
Nanami drapes the blanket over the two of you, His fingers find your cheeks and just your face in general. “Relax them, relax your face muscles.” Once he feels you relax, he then takes his hands off. “Now drop your shoulders.” You do as he says. “Why are you so tense, hm?” He asks through the process.
You let out a deep breath, “Am I tense?” he nods, “Relax your arms and exhale.” You obey, “good, look honey, you’re doing so good.” he whispers into your ear.
You smile against him. “Now this is gonna sound a little silly—“ his hands find your waist. “Imagine some peaceful scenery, where you’re at. Could be the beach, mountains, anywhere”
Your breath comes warm against his chest, “my girl.” he murmurs pressing one more kiss to your head. “my sleepy girl.”
sometimes I write what I want to experience and it’s sad because like 💔💔
Hey girl idk if somethings wrong with my phone but whenever I try to go to ur master list it says no post found idk if it’s just me or if it’s for everyone
Ohh yeah, of course my dumb ass changed my username, so now the links don’t work anymore
i spent like an hour fixing everything so all the links should work again now 😭 thank you so much for letting me know dove 💖💖
zoro and luffy fuck you in gratitude for being their lawyer.
wc: 2.4 k
cw: [threesome, semi public sex, double pen]
the building was surrounded. a spotlight on the apartment they were in.
on the outside, the police were slowly stalking up the staircase. the lead detective, buggy, on the scene, smirked as he imagined how the Straw Hat Gang (a name he refused to call them, because he thought it was ridiculous) were running around like headless chickens to hide their misdeeds. he was so cocky, he finally caught the notorious luffy. he had been causing trouble all across town and was getting too much of an enterprise for someone who started his gang six months ago.
as usual, buggy was wrong.
he got too far ahead of himself. but he was right about one thing. luffy was causing trouble and zoro did have a lot of misdeeds. unlike what buggy boldly stated in the streets of manhattan to his deputies while smoking his cigar, they were not worried about his feeble attempts to apprehend them. well most of them were not worried.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
you arrived at the precinct at 11:01 pm. robin had not called you less than 30 minutes prior and you were occupied with a male respondent, well techincally an accountant who is leaving your firm was fucking you like a wild rabbit in his office and you were getting bored, and arrived to help out your friend in a tight spot.
you were faced with zoro and luffy. from how the officers glared at them you knew this would be a difficult consult. and boy it was, zoro had multiple charges, the most out of all the crew. gosh, they hated zoro.
but luffy's charges were actually much better than zoro's in the scheme of things.
you looked up at both of them, getting ready to talk, to already see them staring at you intensely already. you looked between them and their stark different attitudes. luffy was smiling goofily at you, and zoro had his arms crossed, staring at you quietly.
you set the papers down and look at them again. "well, you both have very serious charges against you. this could be life in prison or even worse," you said solemnly. luffy's smile didn't fall as he leaned over the table and took a stray eyelash off your cheek and blew it off his finger. "well, robin think's you're the best, and i just made a wish that you're gonna beat the case so it'll be okay," he said cheerily.
your mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. you turned as zoro started to snicker and, with one of his cuffed hands, covered his face, not to mention zoro was the only one cuffed (hands and feet), but at least they were long chains, so he could move around more freely, but this is definitely something you will be mentioning to the judge.
"you do realize that you can get life in prison over these charges right?"
" i told you it'll be okay and anyways you have to win, hehe, you're hot." you looked at zoro for at least some sanity.
"and you got huge hypnotizing tits."
good lord.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
thankfully, in new york, arraignments are within 24 to 48 hrs.
you're waiting for them to bring zoro as you now know a plan of attack when his trial came and it was fastly approaching. the door open and you could hear the rattling of his wrist and ankle chains as they shuffled him through the door.
zoro was huge. you stood as he came into your vision and he was now adorned in the dark blue jumpsuit for high risk inmates. maybe they gave him the smallest size they had, they way his arms bulged out the sleeves was entrancing you. you licked your lips staring at his veins and tighteneed your legs together before looking up at his face. he was already looking at you. how long had he been staring?
his head was tilted as they worked to get his cuffs off at your request. he looked at you up and down slowly, starting at you eyes and stopping at your lips in turn licking his own. they uncuffed him and he rolled his wrists and rubbed his hands together. you motioned for him to sit at the table as they closed the doors. you watched zoro as he watched achingly slow towards you like a predator to its prey. your legs couldn't possibly get any tighter as you anticpated his closeness.
but zoro didn't sit down, he kept walking past the table until he stood inches from your face. he wiped the side of your lip with his thumb as his eyes moved to the chocolate wrapper on the table. he slipped his thumb in his mouth and wiped it clean before smirking at you. "delicious." if possible he inched closer his breath causing you to shiver as he exhaled on the column of your neck. "and you smell even better, angel." as he looked at you from where he stood on your left and took a step back. you could finally take a deep trembeling breath now that he was gone.
you shakingly sat at the table as zoro did and started straightening the papers to get back to a stable state of mind. zoro watched you amusingly as you mindlessly moved papers around, bunching up random folders together. that would be hell to sort later.
"should i just fuck you now? on this table?" you froze and looked at zoro dubiously. "what?"
"we both want to, sweetheart. why not?" you put everything down and folded your hands. that snapped you out of that haze. "no, cause then i wouldn't be your lawyer and you will be in jail for a century."
"well wouldn't want that would we sweetheart."
you sighed as you started to get your notes in order again. "no, we do not."
the meeting with luffy went better. he still was smiling at you as if he couldn't face the earnest iron fist of the law at any moment. "when can i get out of here so we can go on a date?"
"we are not going on a date luffy. i am your lawyer." luffy had his head in his hands as he saw you write on a notepad. "well when you get me out of here.."
"i'll think about it." and that was enough for luffy you sat back in his chair and continued to watch you. "good."
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
the trials arrived faster than you expected. or maybe the anticipation of fighting two tough cases this week...turned you on a bit. luffy and zoro, it was now 12:20 pm and the proceedings would continue at 12:45 pm before they brought out zoro for his trial. you're lucky sanji's case got dismissed, he whispered to you that one of the prosectuors was his customers and that would've been a mess. that time came soon enough and they brought zoro out through the door behind the judge's stand.
the trial started rough, they had prints that were nearly identical to zoro's the video of him napping and other nearly incriminating evidence but you were able to get him and luffy off since as the idiot he is buggy didn't mirandize them, ultimately getting the cases dismissed.
ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
not even two weeks later, zoro and luffy stood in your law firm in front of desk watching you sheepishly.
"you are here because you are going to jail for... tax evasion." you looked up at them curiosuly.
"yup they're going to arrest us we need your help." luffy said as he slammed his hands down on your desk and smiled.
"if they were going to arrest you wouldn't they have done that already?"you raised an eyebrow. zoro sighed and ran his hand down as his facs as he also looked at luffy. luffy's smile wavered a bit before he straightened and stepped back next to zoro still looking at you.
"so why are you really here?"
"i missed you and zoro thinks you're hot."
"right.. doesn't explain why you're here though." you murmured as you stood up and crossed your desk and leaned against the front.
"we're here cause we can't stop thinking about you." zoro uttered as he stepped right in front of you his breath brushed on your face. you blinked up at zoro as his hands landed on either side of your body. you brought your hands on either side of his face and brought him down as you kissed him hard.
you both exhaled as zoro pulled back from you tugging on your bottom lip. you look behind him to see luffy who staring intently as he exhaled hard. "keep going i wanna watch." he said as he sat in one of the chairs in front your desk. zoro lifted you up on the desk and ripped open you shirt buttons flying. you protested and he cut you off with a kiss as his hands massaged your boobs. he moved to your neck and started to kiss down your neck, and you stripped off your top and he sucked on your left boob.
zoro took off his shirt and you dragged your nails down his abs. you stood up from the desk and kissed zoro with a peck as you licked down his body, around his pecs kissing his nipples and licking down his abs until you were on your knees. you unbuttoned his pants and his cock sprang out. you grabbed the base and gave his tip a kiss. looking up at zoro you licked down his cock as you held it before taking him into your mouth. you only could fit half of his in your mouth before you started to choke wrapping your hands around the rest.
zoro let you keep going for a while before he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you off. he looked at you, spit running down your mouth as you tried to catch your breath. he reangled his cock to your mouth and you happily opened for him. he shived you onto his cock and pulled you off until you were spitting just at his tip. he kept going like that until you finally reached his base your nose brushing his happy trail. zoro continued to face fuck you and luffy appeared next to him, vest open and his dick was out as he was pumping it.
"give her a chance zoro look she's pratically dripping on the floor." zoro relased you after holding you to his torso as he came down your thoart and dropped you on the floor. "good girl." luffy came and picked you up and placed you back on your desk pushing everything off. he pulled down your skirt and panties off of you and opened you legs still adorned with heels up for him.
"such a pretty pussy baby." luffy dove in as he licked a stripe up to your clit. he grazed your clit with his teeth and you jumped up from the table grabbing on luffy's hair letting out a broken shriek. you tried to stifle your noises and failed miserably as zoro laughed at your attempts to stay quiet while luffy ate you out. he grabbed your neck and turned you towards him in a kiss. just then a knock was heard at the door.
"is everything alright?" the door knob jiggled, thank goodness zoro thought to lock it, zoro looked at you mockingly. "you gotta respond sweetheart."
you looked at him as luffy still ravished your cunt and was shoving two fingers as he scissored you open. "y-yes, everything is fine!" you yelled a bot at the end as luffy had bit you, and zoro started to kiss our neck again. "talking with a client right now!" that seemed to be enough for the passerby as you didn't hear anything else and you were so close you grabbed luffy's hair grinding against his face. "that's it baby, use him." and you came in luffy's mouth.
luffy popped satisfied and looked at you expectantly. "i wanna come in you. where you want me."
all you could do in your state was point at you desk and chair and the large windows that was the back wall, the perks of having a business in a skyscraper. "aww she wants to get fucked on the glass, luffy so the whole city can see her be undone." zoro moved your desk chair and brought the smaller chair down in front of the large window and plopped down. "well come on then." you walked over to zoro as luffy remained standing behind you.
"i want both of you...at the same time." they observed at you surprised before grinning wickedly. "we got a fiesty one huh luffy."
"she's perfect." zoro pulled you on top of him as he swiped his dick between your folds teasing you. you were already becoming overstimulated as luffy dropped to his knees and was licking your ass. then he slipped his tongue in and you left out a indescribable moan.
zoro put his thumb in your mouth as the rest of his fingers held the side of your face. he slowly slipped him cock, delibertaley slow as you slid down. luffy had added a finger already opening up your ass, kissing your back to soothe you. soon he was able to add a second as you fully took zoro's cock. "goog girl, now bounce baby." you put your hand on zoro's shoulders as his hands went to support your waist and sat up before bouncing down on zoro. you started to ride him reverently as luffy worked his fingers and tongue in your ass. soon neough you were getting tired and zoro saw that as he grabbed hold of you to take over. luffy was ready and making eye contact with zoro, who stilled you, luffy fully pushed into you.
you tried to moan but no noise came out and your eyes rolled back. zoro started fucking up into as luffy fucked your ass. the intensity made you fall forward as your breasts pressed against the glass past zoro's shoulder. you couldn't take it as you came for a third time this time around zoro's dick. squeezing him and luffy. you tightened around them both causing luffy to come inside your ass, pulling out and zoro pumping harder before he came in you moments later.
you were spent as you slumped on the glass and they pulled out. luffy used the tissues that fell off your desk to catch some of the cum oozing out of your holes. zoro turned you so you were curled on his lap and luffy smiled at you.
Whether or not they meant to hurt you by saying it, they did. By the time they caught on, you were already changing to someone out of reach.
𝓬haracters: Sanji, ASL brothers, Shanks
tags: Angst & Comfort, some established relationship, accidental injury, WCI spoilers, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns.
song: capable of love - pinkpantheress
SANJI isn’t cruel because he stopped loving you, he’s cruel because he’s trying to. He truly believes pushing you away is the only way to protect you.
Even the day you needed his reassurance most.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He bit out, stepping his way into the carriage that took him to the humiliation of a marriage he didn’t even want.
“I was never going to choose you.”
Sanji is the man who worships the ground you walk on. The one who lights up just because you’re in the room. So why was he being like this?
The line between black and white became such a blur in your teary eyes. You’d straightened your back, fixed on anything but his face. “Understood.”
That’s the moment he’d realize he went too far, even if it was to keep you away. Because in the world he gets out of this alive, how could it possibly go back the way it was.
In short, it didn’t.
You fought just as hard as everyone else bringing him back, but you acknowledged him differently. No more soft glances across the table. No more eyes lingering when he smiles. No more quiet conversations you had with him in the kitchen.
Sanji can survive rejection.
He cannot survive being treated like he’s nothing special to you, he was barely clinging on from just a week of your silence.
—
You’re alone in the kitchen, cutting fruit. Not because you need to. Just because you don’t want to sit out there with everyone else, it was too cold, a bit too warm as well.
The knife presses into the peel of the orange, juice on your fingers.
Footsteps.
“..You’re going to cut yourself holding it like that,” he says softly, a hand gripping the edge of the counter near you, but never too close. "I’ll cut the rest, ma chérie."
“I’m fine.” You said, numb.
The knife slips, just like he said.
You hiss under your breath as the blade grazes your finger, blood trickling down your wrist. His hand wraps around your wrist instinctively, stopping the bleeding with a cloth he had.
“I told you,” he breathes, but his voice cracks around the word. “Your hands are too precious.”
You try to pull back, but he doesn’t let you.
"I'm fine." You tried again, but it was even less convincing than the first.
His heartbeat is fast, it’s the longest interaction you guys had. “Look at me.” he whispers into your ear, you felt your whole body shiver. “You can’t keep ignoring me like this.”
“Yes I can.” And you could, but you sadly weren’t so simple.
You try not to look at him, but it’s hard not to see straight when he’s the one holding you. When you looked up finally, you notice how his composure was gone, no elegance left. Your hand trembles against him.
“I thought if you hated me, you’d stay away. You’d be safe.” His thumb presses lightly over your knuckles. He already explained this before, the first day even.
“But that also meant you stopped loving me,” he continues, voice rough. You didn’t have the heart to correct him. “And I don’t know how to breathe when you do that.”
Tears formed in his eyes before yours, you could hear it in the way he breathed.
“I need you to look at me again,” he whimpers, a choke at the end. “Even if you’re angry. Even if you hit me. Just don’t treat me like I’m nothing.”
That’s his real fear.
His grip softens, but he doesn’t let go.
“I love you,” he says, steady now.
A shaky breath was let out, but this time it from you. “I hate you so much.” You breathed, but despite your words your head sinked into his shoulder. “You can be so cruel.”
In other words, I love you too, but I’m still mad.
He brought a hand to your back, hesitating before it settled there permanently.
SABO
The room had settled into an uneasy quiet.
Sabo had work stacked higher than usual, little casualties have been popping up and it’s been taking a toll on the moral of everyone.
You were there anyway, for him.
Your head laid against his desk, watching him with that soft patience he never seemed to earn but always received. When his ink slipped and a word smeared across the page, you let out a quiet laugh, already half stood to fetch him a fresh sheet.
But that was it for him.
“Don’t you have something to do?” He asked, it felt a lot more sharper than anything. He was tired, frayed at the edges. “Instead of hovering around me.”
Ah.
You blinked once, like you hadn’t quite processed it. Then you pushed yourself up slowly from the chair, the echo of it filling the silence. “I.. yeah.” A pause. Breath catching slightly. “I’ll see you around, Sabo.”
The door clicked shut.
At first, he told himself it was better this way, less pressure on both of you.
If anything, he thought it was a good change at first. You began matching him more, the work, the missions, the way you bit your pen when you thought.
You guys began living the same life style, but not in the same life.
When you passed him in corridors, your eyes didn’t linger anymore. No small smile. No teasing remark under your breath.
He started noticing things he hadn’t before.
How often you had been the one pulling him out of his own spiral. How often you had made the room feel less like an office and more like somewhere people could still breathe.
And now you weren’t doing that anymore.
Because of him.
He didn’t look at the chair at first. Because that chair was yours, literally. You brought it in a random day and it never left.
When he finally did, it stood out more than it should have, pulled close to his desk, slightly angled, like it had been part of the room’s routine. Like you had been still here with him.
Not once did he touch it, hoping one day you’d just be there.
And still, he didn’t say it to your face.
—
Koala didn’t bring it up gently, that wasn’t in her nature. She banged the desk, grabbing his attention fast.
He stared, a bit shock.
“Sabo, the girl used to live in your presence.” she scolding pulling his cheek, hard. He whined a bit. “She could barely even joke with you without worrying you’d push her away again!”
His fingers tightened slightly against the paper in his hands, the worst part was this was something he didn’t even think about.
Koala exhaled, softer now but no less firm. “Can’t you see how much she’s doing for you?”
His gaze drifted from her, back to the chair.
—
It took him longer than it should’ve to find you. Not because you were avoiding him, you weren’t. You were exactly where you always were, but still completely different.
When he stepped into the room, you didn’t look up. Not even once.
He brought a chair with him, it scraped across the floor like any wood on wood interaction. You paused for half a second, then kept writing. He brought it closer anyway and sat right beside you.
Then he leaned forward until he could rest his head on his arm against the edge of your desk. That made your pen stop, but you still didn’t look at him. He exhaled through his nose, something almost bitter at himself.
“I keep thinking about that day,” he admitted, eyes fixated on something near your hand. “Your presence was never the problem, I should’ve never made you think it was. If anything, I was.”
Silence stretched again, but he knew you were listening at least. He shifted his body, slower this time, and rested his head fully on your desk. “I don’t want this version of us to be the only one that exists,” he said quietly.
Then, after a breath that sounded rough, “I don't want this to be it.”
Finally, you did look at him, head tilted slightly to his side. Your eyes were much duller now, they looked tired, much more tired than him. He noticed your chapped lips, messy hair, bruised finger. All of his faults.
You saw apologies you never thought could be said through just an expression.
Carefully, he reached up and let his fingers slip into your hair, smoothing the ends. Holding on to you in anyway he can, and you leaned into it, not completely.
Because you were still here.
And this time, he wasn’t going to act like that didn’t matter.
ACE -
You popped up behind Ace with a bright yelp, grabbing both his shoulders hard enough to jolt him forward. He gasped, nearly dropped what he was holding before realizing it was you. “You trying to kill me?”
“Not yet.” You stepped back dramatically, hands on your hips while you turned side to side. “For now, answer me. How do I look?” You asked, looking up with a mischievous grin.
You’d actually tried to impress him. Fixed your hair. Change your outfit. Put effort into it. The kind of effort that makes your stomach twist because you care who’s looking. You cared if he was looking.
Ace blinked, looked once, then again. “It’s.. different.”
Different.. what does that mean?
Silence.
You waited, but nothing followed.
“..Thanks.” You smiled anyway, a tight one that fought to frown. He nodded like he’d done his job, walking away with a silent goodbye.
It was fine, didn’t matter.
You told yourself you can move on, but all you remember that night was scrubbing your face, throwing the clothes, and never considered doing it again for your own sake. Why? Because you cared too much.
The next day, you wore something that didn’t risk that embarrassing pause. It was dull, something you found in the back of the laundry. You didn’t even like how it looked.
And when the days followed, you began expressing that same color.
Ace didn’t even think anything about it, he didn’t mind as long as you were comfortable. He thought you were, he really did.
—
Izou started off softly, a genuine worry masked as an innocent question. “What happened to her cute outfits?” He asked, leaning against the wall. “I wanted to learn a thing or two.”
Ace stiffened, then thought about it. Really thought about it, or specifically that day. He remembered the way you’d looked at him, hopeful. Expecting something more than a passing comment.
And yeah. He’d panicked.
Not because you looked bad, because you looked good. It was different in a way that made his brain short circuit and his mouth betray him.
But it was the fact he didn’t correct himself instantly is what brought him here.
He realizes that change you made wasn’t for comfortability, but because Ace was dumb enough to not notice.
That you did it for him.
—
Ace found you later, leaning against the railing, a hint of déjà vu from when you met him here days ago. It took you a second to register him, and even then you were pretty dismissive.
He stood there awkwardly. “That thing you wore the other day.”
You froze but kept your voice low, avoiding that hopefulness in your throat. “Yeah?”
“It wasn’t bad.”
You stared at him, the wind pushing a strands of your hair across your face the longer he waited, he wasn’t even close to grasping how small he might look like right.
"You.." He looked away from you, tapping on the railing with this restless motion. “You looked good.”
That was his honesty, that was his a dirty secret. God he was pathetic.
“I’m not good at pretty words,” he admitted. “But I don’t ever want you thinking I don’t like the way you are. Or the way you try. I..” He swallowed. “I really liked it.”
There it was.
Your smile came easier this time, still small, a little bit hesitant. “Why’d it take so long to say it?”
He gave you a look, accepting every step he was allowed. “I know.” He kicked lightly at the deck, looking at you softly. "My favorite was two weeks ago, definitely that one. I noticed my name on your nails—.”
“Shut up.”
LUFFY -
You used to talk with your whole body. You’d lean into him without thinking, knee knocking his, like you guys were kids again. “But he still lives,” you said chuckling, smiling down at the page. “He’s a pretty tragic character, I didn’t expect it to get so dark.”
You looked up and Luffy wasn’t looking at you.
“Oh,” he muttered. “That’s cool.” The wind filled the silence. You waited for the follow up he’d ask. The confused question. Anything. He sighed, “Ya’ done yet?”
You smiled like your feelings weren’t hurt.
“Yeah, there wasn’t much.” you said, the book closing with a soft thud. He didn’t notice how small you sounded. “I’ll see you later, Luffy.”
That was the last time you went to him with a chapter still warm in your hands.
And he didn’t worry about it.
Luffy didn’t notice absences the way other people did, mainly because you guys were apart of the same crew, so that distance wasn’t much. But, he’d look to his side sometimes, expecting your elbow in his ribs.
He didn’t know why that bothered him, not yet.
—
The ship stopped at a new island for a restock. Luffy walked down the stands, a certain group catching his eye. It was a book promotion, about the one you wouldn’t shut up about.
He tried to remember the last time you wouldn’t shut up about anything.
The last time you’d tugged on his sleeve. The last time you’d sat next to him with that look in your eyes like you were about to explode with something you couldn’t keep in.
Robin watched his expression shift. Watched the confusion settle, then the sadness. “Luffy,” she said carefully, “when’s the last time she talked to you about a book?”
That caught him off guard.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Luffy tried again. “She.. she hasn’t lately.” He stated quietly, and that felt weird to say. You guys talked daily still, that wouldn't change. But it wasn't the same.
Robin tilted her head. “Hasn’t? Or stopped?”
The noise of the market suddenly felt far away.
He replayed it, you on the deck, smiling down at the page. He remembered saying it, but he didn’t remember what your face looked like after.
And that was all it took for him to run back to the ship.
_
He reached the library, breathless by the time he opened the door. You stared at him in disbelief, watching as he stubbornly sat right next to you with his hands in his lap. You pulled the book in your hand closer.
“Something wrong?” You mumbled, each inch you leaned back was an extra two inches he leaned in.
“Tell me about the book.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I want you to ramble to me again.” He whined, a frustrated hand trembling in his lap.
“You were the one who looked bored.” You stated bluntly, ending with a sigh. "You don't have to listen—“
“But I’m not!” He retorted instantly, a slight crack in his voice. “I miss it when you came to me. I know, I struggle to look interested.. and sometimes I get distracted.” He began the useless rambling. “But! But.. I really like when you get excited.”
You both stared at each other for seconds too long. He wasn’t done talking, but he wanted to know if you were still waiting for him. Your gaze softened, feeling a light tremble in your lips.
So he continued.
“I don’t know why.” He frowned, answering the question your face expressed. “But still, I remember things. Like how you like uh.. uhm laya’s..”
“Laios.”
Your favorite, he knew him despite his selective memory.
SHANKS -
“You’re not the only woman in the world.” Shanks gave a low chuckle into his drink like it was nothing worth holding onto.
His shoulder brushed yours on purpose, fingers lazily grazing your hand as if he already expected you not to pull away.
“A man like me can’t be tied down.”
Translating to, he doesn't want anything serious.
The words should’ve been light, it was a joke after all. But every joke had an underlining truth, like when he said it to you. You stared at him for a second too long, jaw locking as you forced out a scoff. “I’m not trying to tie you down.”
You pushed back from the table. The chair scraped. “I’m going to the ship.”
He didn’t say anything, eyes lashes fluttering as he watch you slowly leave through the door.
After that, nothing changed for him for the following month. It looked like that at least.
You stopped letting him touch you, everytime he nuzzled your face, wrap his hands around your waist, you would brush him off. He would flirt with you at times, and you stared at him in silence until it got too awkward- and so on.
All the dumb shit you used to put up with all because you liked him.
And it got to him.
Shanks brushed a finger against the table, a long strained groan leaving his lips. He misses you, but in a weird way where you were there, but just not his to take. He didn’t notice what changed, not yet.
He laughed at that thought, not even realizing no other woman besides you has been in his mind for as long as this, as desperately as this.
“Shanks.”
He jumped out of thought, slowly turning around to face Beckman. “..yes?”
“Quite frankly we don’t care about your woman life. It’s not our business.” He was honest, brutally honest, and somehow the emperor knew what was coming already. “But don’t be surprised when you treat the girl like a one night stand and she doesn’t put up with you.”
Shank’s blinked, mouth slightly parting with nothing coming out.
“I wouldn’t—” But he did, that’s exactly what it sounded like that night. He swallowed whatever spot was in his mouth. “She doesn’t want me.”
Excuses.
“She did want you, Shank’s.” He huffed, light frustration in the tone of his voice, translating it from a womanizer to a yearner. “So do something about it, yeah?”
—
You were sitting on a crate, head tipped back toward the sky, pretending you weren’t waiting for anything. He stopped behind you, far from silently.
You finally looked up, meeting a sullen look in his eyes, it looked like regret. “Captain?”
“I haven’t had a one night stand in weeks.” He whispered, like he was trying to joke and failed halfway through.
Huh.
You only chuckled, the one people force. “A fuck isn’t happening,” you said sharply, standing up. “Nice try, though.”
“What? No.” He stepped forward too fast. “That’s not what I meant.”
You blinked, a part of you shaken from his rare honesty. Or rather you were afraid of it. “Then what was it?”
“I’m sorry.”
Your hands tightened at your sides, you knew exactly where this was coming from, and you weren’t ready for it.
“I miss when you looked at me, not like others.” He exhaled, annoyed with himself. “I like when it’s just us, I don’t care what you call it, or what it was. I just..”
He stopped, but he was already too far in.
“I want you close,” he said instead, simpler. “Not like everyone else.”
But nothing was matching up with what he’s said already.
“I thought I couldn’t tie you down.” You breathed, a hitch in your throat.
How gazed softened, finding somewhere to leave his hands that wasn’t on you, he landed on his belt. It wouldn't be necessary though. “I was wrong—“
Your hand lifted before you could think, pressing against his mouth to stop him from saying something else that would undo you.
Shank’s eyes deepened, unexpectedly, he caught your wrist.
He held it there, slowly kissing your palm with a softness you didn’t know he had in himself. It was something he’d been trying not to do for a long time.
“I’ll make it right,” he said against your hand, voice low.
You didn’t forgive him, but you didn’t walk away either. And he made sure you’d never regret that decision of letting him closer again.
A/N: I hope everyone saw that dungeon meshi sneak and started cheering like how I did. Thank u for readinggg this was actually really fun to write
Sunday mornings are meant for quiet relfection. Except when you have a boyfriend as clingy as Law, who just needs physical touch.
tags : +18 only, established relationship, fluff and smut, morning sex, clingy law, teasing, smug law, fingering and oral sex (f!receving), p in v, creampie
☆ masterlist ★
The morning is quiet in that fragile way Sundays tend to be, soft light slipping through the curtains, the air still fresh from the early morning. You’re already awake, your pillow against the headboard, a notebook on the sheets, you are writing your morning pages.
You turn the page, ready to start a new one, when you feel movement behind you. You don’t pay much attention, because you know from these small shifts that Law is about to wake up. You take advantage of the calm a little longer before you inevitably end up with an armful of a warm, sleep-dazed Law clinging to you.
You see, Law has this tendency — an adorable little tendency — to be excessively clingy when he wakes up. He always needs to be close to you, within arm’s reach at all times. He would never admit it, he might not even realize it himself, but he genuinely loves waking up next to you and starting his day knowing you’re warm and safe with him.
So when you feel an arm wrap around your waist, you don’t even react, simply continuing to write in your notebook.
“…why are you up,” he mutters, his voice rough, almost accusatory, his warm body pressing closer to yours.
“Good morning to you too,” you reply naturally, not stopping your writing.
You feel him rub his face against your lower back. Then, naturally, as if it were second nature, his hand slips under your t-shirt, soon followed by his face as well, like he was hiding. “Come back to sleep…” he grumbles, his warm breath pressing against your skin.
“I’m writing.”
He sighs, his cold nose brushing against your back. You keep writing, completely unfazed by his clingy morning behavior.
For a while, he goes still again. So still, in fact, that you almost forget he’s there. His arm remains loosely draped around your waist, his breathing slow and even against your back. And just like that, you slip back into your writing. Your thoughts flow more easily now, your pen moving faster across the page. You almost forget Law for a second. Almost. Because then he shifts again.
A quiet groan escapes him, low and drawn-out, his grip tightening just slightly as he presses himself closer, as if it were possible . “…cold,” he mumbles, though there’s nothing cold about the way he’s practically glued to you.
You huff out a quiet laugh, not even looking back. “You’re not cold.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just buries his face deeper against you, as if that alone proves his point. “…you’re not here,” he adds after a moment, voice quieter this time, almost sulking.
You shake your head, amused. “I am here. I’m just busy.”
“…don’t like that,” he says after a pause.
You smile to yourself, eyes still on the page. “Then you’ll have to wait. I’m in the flow right now.”
Another pause. Longer this time. You think that he might give up again. Drift back to sleep. But then his hand moves. It slides along your side, slow, almost lazy, like he’s not fully aware of it. Down to your hip, then back up again, tracing the same path without purpose.
Your pen falters for a split second, but you try to ignore it and keep writing.
His fingers drift again, this time lower, brushing along your thigh through the fabric, then back up, then down again aimless and wandering.
“…Law.”
A soft hum in response. You can feel that his touch isn’t insistent, like he’s grounding himself without thinking about it, just to help him fall back asleep. But still, your grip tightens slightly around your pen. “You’re distracting me.”
“…am not,” he murmurs instantly, voice still thick with sleep.
You glance down at the page. You’ve barely written a full line.
“Law.”
“Mmh?”
“You are.”
His hand stills for a second — like he’s actually processing what you said — before shifting again, just as slowly as before. “…not doing anything,” he insists, almost offended, even as his fingers drift along your inner thigh this time, absent. “I’m just holding you.”
You almost laugh, because technically, yes. He is. But his hand drifts again, tracing your inner thigh before going back up, and his hand lingered on your panties for a second too long, before settling on your stomach.
Goosebumps burst on your skin before you regain your senses. “Stop being sneaky on purpose and let me write my stuff, then I will cuddle you,” you scold him like a child.
He exhales, and you can almost picture the pout on his face. You resume your writing as Law finally lets go of your waist, lazily resting his hand on your thigh, far from anywhere sensitive.
You allow yourself a few seconds to breathe, slowly gathering your thoughts again. Your eyes linger on the page for a long moment, a sentence left unfinished in the middle, the flow of your thoughts slightly overwhelmed because of Law.
“...You stopped,” he eventually says.
You exhale slowly, setting your pen down on the notebook. “Because I can’t focus.”
And maybe that was the wrong thing to say, because his hand immediately slides between your thighs, his thumb pressing against your slit. A surprised moan slips from you before you quickly move a hand down to stop him.
“What? So I’m the reason you can’t focus, or is your mind just all over the place?”
“Fuck you, Law. Stop being greedy.”
He laughs softly. “Oh, but I’m not.” His mouth presses against the small of your back, and this time you can tell it’s intentional, just barely above your panties. “Keep writing, darling. I’ll keep myself busy on my own.”
And you know he’s already ruined everything, but you still try — try — to focus on your writing again. Especially when you feel his fingers slip beneath your panties, teasing you for a moment before one finger brushes against your sensitive clit. You tremble slightly as Law takes obvious pleasure in teasing you like this.
“Mmh… Law, that’s not fair,” you complain, still stubbornly trying to focus on your writing.
“What is it, love? I’m just trying to keep myself busy, that’s all,” he replies in a condescending tone.
“‘That’s all’ my ass,” you snap, trying to kick him away, but all you do is give him more room to touch you, and he immediately takes advantage of it, sliding a finger inside you. “Ahh, fuck—”
“I’ll take care of your ass another day. Right now, I really need to play with this pussy.”
And then you feel another finger slide into you, stealing your breath away with the sudden intrusion. You bite your lip to hold back a moan, feeling his fingers thrust in and out painfully slowly.
He bites your hip, catching the edge of your panties between his teeth in the process. He tugs on the fabric slightly before letting the elastic snap back against your skin. A startled gasp leaves your lips as his fingers inside you become more and more overwhelming. He fingers you shamelessly now, and maybe your brain is still too sleepy because you can already feel yourself getting close far too quickly.
“Mmh… Law, I’m gonna cum,” you warn him, feeling your whole body loosen.
“Yeah?” His voice is low and unbearably hot. He moves between your legs, forcing you to spread them wider to make room for him, his face now directly in front of your warm, wet pussy. “Who told you you could cum already?”
You whine, but he silences you quickly by pulling his fingers out just to smack your pussy. At the same time, he slides your panties off, grabs your legs to spread them even wider, and spits right onto the center of your pussy.
You moan as his tongue finally moves against your pussy lips. He circles your clit for a few seconds before sucking on it gently.
“You are so mean,” you complain, your hips pressing instinctively against him. You hear him groan in response, tightening his grip on your legs even more.
Somewhere beside you, your journal falls onto the floor, the sound distracting you for a split second. Blindly, your hand reaches out, trying to search for it.
“Shh, stay with me, baby.” His hand glides up your body before he gestures with two fingers, silently asking for your hand, which you give him immediately. “Be good for me, yeah?”
You’re not even sure if it’s a question, but you nod anyway as he returns to that sweet torture between your thighs. He looks up at you from where he is, and those sleepy bedroom eyes are devastatingly hot. Soft, incoherent mumbles start spilling from your lips as he works you apart, savoring just how wet you are for him, every quiet slurp echoing straight through your brain.
“Fuck— fuck, yeah, Law,” you gasp, squeezing his hand tightly while your other hand gets lost in the sheets. Your hips keep moving against his mouth, and he grumbles every time you do, never letting up. He’s relentless with his tongue, persistent against your clit, and you can already feel yourself beginning to shake.
“Please, please, please,” you beg, already so close to your release.
When he stops, your free hand tangles into his hair, almost as if you’re silently begging him to continue just a little longer. A strained groan leaves you as you struggle to steady your breathing again.
“Why did you do that?” you ask with a frown. He knew perfectly well how close you were. “How dare you to be mean like that.”
He laughs softly. “Don’t make me laugh, honey. You were the one giving me attitude earlier.”
“What? I was just trying to write…”
“You were so mean to me,” he says almost innocently as he pushes his boxers down, his cock already hard and glistening. “Couldn't even comfort your boyfriend who only wanted a pathetic little cuddle.” He teases, his hand on his dick, pumping agonizingly slowly. “I’m only giving you what you deserve.”
You can feel his warmth between your thighs now, but your mind is still foggy from the interrupted release, too overwhelmed to think clearly. When he brushes teasingly against you, the next complaint dies in your throat immediately.
“If you want anything from me,” he murmurs, “you’ll have to behave. Do you understand?”
You pout, already reaching for him instinctively, craving the contact despite yourself. “You’re just so clingy in the morning…” you defend weakly, fingertips brushing against his abdomen.
“Oh really? And who’s the clingier one now?”
He catches your wrist easily and pins your hand above your head against the pillow. You grumble under your breath anyway, hips unconsciously pressing closer to him. “Be nice,” and with that he enters his tip inside. You both exhale at the same time, him burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Please, Law…” you whisper pitifully, already impatient, your body seeking more without permission.
“What, baby?” His voice is rough against your skin, warm enough to make you shiver. “Ask properly if you want something.”
Your hips keep moving restlessly, but he controls the distance between you effortlessly, never letting you have enough. Another needy sound escapes you.
“Want you, Law…” you admit after a moment. “Please.”
A low laugh rumbles from his chest, almost cruel in how satisfied he sounds. “Mmh fuck– what do you want from me baby? Just one more time.”
“Ahhn– please… want your cock please…”, your voice trembling with need imploring Law.
“There we go.” He leans closer, and the sudden intimacy tears a broken sound from your throat. “That’s it, sweet, sweet girl.”
Your nails dig into his hips automatically as you cling to him, body arching beneath his. Law buries his face against your neck, his breathing uneven now too.
Your breaths grow shorter and shorter, as his heartbeat pounds heavily against your body, matching the slow, relentless rhythm he sets between you. Every rough exhale against your ear sends another shiver down your spine.
“Hm, yeah… so good…” you manage weakly.
“It’s good, baby?” he asks, voice hoarse right beside your ear. “Finally got what you wanted?”
You can only hum in response, too overwhelmed to form proper words, and he laughs quietly at your laziness.
Law’s movements stay steady and deep, enough to keep you completely focused on him and nothing else. Every now and then he mutters something low against your skin, teasing you on purpose but so soft at the same time, and each word only makes your grip tighten around him.
“Law, you’re annoying.”
“Ohh, my poor baby,” he mocks softly. “Am I bothering you?”
“Yea–.” You breathe.
“And yet you’re still holding onto me this tight, sweetheart.” You grumble under your breath, making him laugh quietly. “There it is,” he murmurs. “My clingy girl getting all needy again.”
“I‘m not clingy… you’re talking too much.”
“Am I, sweet thing ?” He kisses the corner of your mouth smugly.
“Yeah, you’re bothering me,” you complain again.
“Really, my angel? Am I annoying you?” You hum. “Why are you so wet for me then? Listen how much she loves it.”
Your face immediately heats up at his words, and you turn your head away with an annoyed little huff, arms tightening around him despite yourself. Law laughs quietly against your skin, completely entertained by your reaction.
“Aw, don’t be shy baby” he teases softly, leaning closer. “You’re making it really hard for me to behave.”
You grumble under your breath, as his hands tighten slightly around your waist as he pulls you closer.
He chases your mouth and finds it easily, unable to refuse his kisses. Your tongues slide against each other messily, teeth knocking together every now and then. When you moan into his mouth, he groans softly in return before gently biting down on your lower lip.
“So noisy,” he murmurs against your lips, though his voice sounds just as wrecked as yours.
You whine at the teasing once again and he immediately smiles against your mouth, clearly pleased with himself. One of his hands slips into your hair, tilting your head back just enough for him to deepen the kiss while his forehead briefly presses against yours.
“Look at you,” he mutters quietly. “Getting all worked up this early in the morning.”
You try to complain again, but it dies into another breathless sound when he kisses you harder, like he wants to devour every reaction.
Your fingers tighten instinctively in the fabric of his shirt, and Law notices immediately. A smug little smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when he pulls away just enough to look at you properly, grey eyes heavy with amusement and something softer underneath.
“You talk too much,” you mumble weakly, trying to glare at him again, but he just laughs quietly, brushing his nose against yours in a way that feels annoyingly affectionate for someone who spent the last ten minutes teasing you to death.
“Cute,” he whispers. “You get all soft after whining so much.”
“I’m literally still mad at you.”
“Mmh.” He kisses you once more, slower this time. “Sure you are, baby.”
His hand slides slowly along your body before he hooks one of your thighs around his waist, your other leg naturally following right after.
The sudden shift in angle leaves you completely exposed. Law takes advantage of it immediately, thrusting deep enough to steal the breath straight from your lungs. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as a loud moan spills from your mouth.
“Law— ahh—”
“Yeah… just like that,” he rasps, his composure finally cracking. The smugness fades from his voice, replaced by something rougher that makes your stomach tighten.
He doesn’t give you a second to recover. His pace picks up instantly, abandoning the slow torture from earlier for something deeper. The mattress creaks beneath you, quiet gasps and the slick sound of skin against skin filling the room.
Law shifts his hips just enough to hit deeper, forcing another helpless sound from your throat. Your vision blurs at the edges. One hand tangles desperately into his dark hair while the other clutches at his back, trying to keep yourself grounded as the pressure in your stomach tightens unbearably.
“Look at me,” he says softly, voice strained.
You force your eyes open.
Law is staring down at you through messy dark strands falling into his face, his grey eyes blown wide and hazy with desire. He looks completely wrecked, and his look only sends another rush of heat through your body.
“Law… please, wanna cum now,” you whimper, your hips lifting helplessly toward him.
“I’ve got you baby,” he murmurs immediately, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. His pace turns relentless after that, deep thrusts driving the last coherent thought out from your mind. “That’s it, baby,” he groans against your ear. “Come for me.”
Your whole body tightens around him as pleasure crashes through you all at once, leaving you trembling beneath him. You cry out his name, your fingers digging into his back while wave after wave rolls through you as Law groans low in response.
“Fuck— that’s it, good girl… so fucking good for me.” Another deep thrust drags your orgasm out even longer, leaving your whole body trembling beneath him. “Where do you want me, baby?”
You clench your jaw, barely able to think straight anymore. “Inside… inside, please…”
A breathless laugh escapes him. “Yeah? Cute thing wants me deep inside her, hm?” How he’s still able to tease you at a moment like this so close to losing control himself is beyond you. “Fuck, baby—”
His rhythm stutters before he finally buries himself as deep as he can, low groans spilling from his throat while he shudders hard against you, holding you close as he finally comes undone too.
The silence afterward feels thick and warm, broken only by the sound of your breathing.
Law stays close for a long moment, forehead pressed against your shoulder, chest rising and falling heavily against yours. The frantic intensity from before melts away completely, replaced by a heavy morning laziness.
When he finally shifts, it’s slow and reluctant, a quiet grunt escaping him as he pulls away just enough to make you wince softly. Without giving you any space, he immediately turns onto his side and pulls you back against his chest, one arm sliding firmly around your waist like it belongs there. As he settles you against him, he leans in and presses some kisses to your shoulder, unexpectedly gentle.
“Tired?” he murmurs, voice low and rough from sleep and exertion.
You hum faintly in response, already melting against him without thinking. You lie there boneless and exhausted, eyes drifting sleepily toward the floor beside the bed. Your notebook is still there, abandoned face-down on the hardwood, several pages bent awkwardly beneath it.
“My notebook,” you mumble hoarsely. “You ruined my pages.”
Law lets out a quiet laugh against the back of your neck, entirely unapologetic.
His hand slides absentmindedly across your stomach, his fingers tracing slow circles against your skin while his eyes drift shut again. “You can write tomorrow, darling,” he murmurs sleepily. “Today you’re staying here.”
can you do a doffy x a morbidly curious reader. your fics are really well put to gather and ive never seen anyone x a morbidly curious reader i just think it would be so cool to see and read as i myself am a morbidly curious person and i think doffy would almost indulge in her curiosity please
I haven’t written in so long, so I really hope you like it and that it’s close to what you had in mind.
Most people look away from monster. Doflamingo has met plenty of people terrified of violence. You are not one of them, your fascination with violence should unsettle him perhaps, but instead, Doflamingo finds himself indulging it.
tags: morbid curiosity, dark intimacy, obsession, toxic romance, they're both a little insane tw: blood & violence
☆ masterlist ★
The first time Doflamingo noticed something was wrong with you was during an interrogation.
No, not wrong. Perhaps simply… different.
The room smelled thickly of iron and sweat, muffled cries occasionally cutting through the heavy silence between questions. Most people couldn’t last more than a few minutes there. They turned pale, looked away, trembled whenever blood splattered too close.
But not you, no. You stayed there, not frozen but focused.
Your attention stayed fixed on the scene before you: the man strapped helplessly to the chair, the thick blood staining his face, the strings digging into his flesh with cruel precision. Doflamingo hadn’t expected your reaction. Your eyes followed every movement of his hands so carefully, as though you were dissecting the scene only to recreate it inside your mind afterward.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
The man tied to the chair let out another broken sound, and you flinched slightly at the noise — proof you weren’t insensitive to it — but then your gaze drifted back toward Doflamingo himself.
His predatory grin met yours, sharp and dangerous beneath the dim light, before he turned back to finish what he had started.
The room eventually fell silent.
When he was finally done with his prey, wiping his bloodied hands lazily with a cloth, Doflamingo stepped back toward you. Together, you stared at the body slumped against the chair while blood spread slowly across the floorboards.
You should have looked away but instead, your eyes tracked the crimson pooling beneath the corpse’s ribs.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he drawled.
“I’m just wondering…” you began quietly, “why do you smile when you threaten people?”
Doflamingo’s grin widened instinctively. “Mm? What kind of question is that?”
“I don’t know…” you looked at him. “Most people snarl. Or yell. You look happiest when someone is afraid of you.”
He stared at you for a moment. Not offended. If anything, intrigued. “You trying to psychoanalyze me, sweetheart?” he teased.
This time, you smiled. “Maybe.”
“And what’s your conclusion?”
Your gaze flickered briefly toward the blood staining his fingers before returning to his face. “I think you enjoy control more than violence itself.”
A low hum rumbled in his throat. “Mmh… interesting.”
Then his hand suddenly caught your jaw, large fingers curling against your skin before he pulled you into a kiss, far too pleased by the fact that you had looked directly at the monster in front of you instead of turning away.
Once back in your room, Doflamingo lounged lazily against the headboard, shirt long abandoned somewhere on the floor, his glasses still perched carelessly on his nose. One arm rested behind his head while the other draped across his stomach.
And you sat beside him, the silk bedsheets casually encircling your waist, your skin still warm from your lovemaking. You were quietly tracing the map of violence written across his skin. Your fingertips slid slowly over old scars on his torso. You examined them with curiosity while his muscles shifted faintly beneath your fingers as you traced another scar near his shoulder.
“This one was deep,” you murmured.
Doflamingo hummed lazily. “Mm. Bullet.”
Your thumb pressed gently against the uneven skin. “You almost died?”
A grin curled at the corners of his lips. “Don’t underestimate me, dove.”
You glanced up at him briefly before your attention returned to the mark, studying the shape of it. He watched you do it silently.
See, most people avoided scars as they treated them as ugly things. Things to ignore. But you touched them like they were precious artifacts, like proof of his past, of his present.
Your hand drifted lower until your fingers eventually curled loosely around his wrist, your eyes settling on the blood drying across his knuckles from earlier.
“Does it bother you?” you asked softly.
Doflamingo grinned lazily, almost excited by the question you are going to ask, as if he perversely enjoyed indulging that hidden side of you. “What part?”
“The sound.”
“The sound?”
“When bones break.” Your eyes lifted toward his. “Does it ever stay in your head afterward?”
Silence lingered for a moment before a low laugh rolled from his chest. “Baby,” he tilted his head slightly, “you ask the prettiest questions.”
You frowned a little as your gaze dropped back to his hand. “I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” His grin widened. “That’s what makes it cute.”
Your fingers brushed over his knuckles again, thoughtful. “Well?”
Doflamingo watched you carefully now, amused. Most people wanted distance from the brutality he carried around him, but not you. You wanted to lean into it, to study it. And somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to stop indulging you. “No,” he admitted after a moment. “Not the sound itself.” His hand suddenly caught yours, large fingers folding around your wrist before guiding your palm flat against the scarred center of his chest. “It’s the feeling people make right before it happens,” he said smoothly. “That moment when they realize they’re powerless.”
Your breath caught slightly. Doflamingo noticed immediately. Of course he did – the subtle quickening of your pulse beneath his fingers, your bare chest rising more dramatically.
“Do you like that answer?” He chuckled quietly.
You hummed, while your pupils dilated. “I think,” you murmured slowly as a faint blush spread across your chest, “you like being feared because it means nobody can hurt you first.”
For once, Doflamingo went still, but his grin returned quickly, sharper. “Maybe I should start being careful around you then.”
His words captured your attention immediately, and your eyes locked onto his gaze, the lenses of his glasses reflecting your own image back to you. Your fingers remained against his chest, feeling the steady weight of his heartbeat beneath scarred skin. Even now, relaxed in the privacy of his room, there was still something dangerous about him.
Your thumb brushed absentmindedly over another faded mark near his sternum. “And what about this one?” you asked quietly, trying to ease the tension building in your mind.
Doflamingo glanced downward. “Knife.”
“You remember every scar?”
A low chuckle escaped him. “Are you asking because you’re curious,” he murmured, “or because you wanna hear the stories?”
“Both.”
“Greedy girl.” His hand slid from your wrist to trail slowly along your forearm until it reached your jaw, his large fingers curled there lazily, tilting your face toward him. “You know,” he purred, voice lower now, “most people get nervous touching a body that’s hurt this much.”
“Perhaps… but I think… I think it makes you feel more real.”
Something unreadable flashed briefly across his face at that.
Then his thumb pressed lightly against your lower lip, and you parted them instinctively beneath his touch. His expression darkened immediately as he slipped his thumb into your warm mouth.
You were still looking at him with that same unbearable curiosity, like you wanted to crawl inside his mind and nibble at each of his ugly thoughts hiding there.
Doflamingo thought he might be addicted to it. He leaned closer as he slid his thumb off your mouth and his mouth met yours slowly at first, almost teasing. Warm, deliberate, the hand on your jaw tightening just enough to remind you exactly who was holding you. But the moment you kissed him back, something in him sharpened instantly.
A quiet hum vibrated in his throat. “Careful, sweetheart,” he warned softly against your lips, amused. “Keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna start thinking you enjoy dangerous things a little too much.”
And maybe you did.
As your fingers slid unconsciously against his chest again, Doflamingo exhaled another low laugh before suddenly pulling you into his lap in one smooth motion. The movement drew a startled breath from you.
“There’s that sound,” he mused lazily, mouth brushing the corner of yours. “Much prettier than breaking bones.”
