An AU where Corazon never died. An AU where doflamingo never touched dressrosa and remained a pirate only(or a warlord cause of his blackmail material). An AU where Law and Corazon were still happy and Law may have started calling him older brother or dad, whatever. An AU where doflamingo healed, even partially. An AU where Law and doflamingo's relationship with one another was a comedic relief and not all that it qas in the manga. Sigh, Oda knows how to make everything tragic in one way or another
How to create a character for an online or tabletop RPG (also a good guide on creating characters in general)
Royalty/nobility TV Tropes page
Basic character profile
OC masterpost
Random character generators - (1), (2), (3), (4)
D&D Character Building Tool
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Amazing site with an endless amount of naming resources
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Masterlist of names of all types - including but not limited to ancient/old world names, Celtic, African, Northern European, Southern and Central American Native names, Japanese, Chinese, Mongolian, Polynesian, and more
Another name masterlist
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Yet another names masterlist
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Another character development list
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320 talents and passions for characters
On writing likes and dislikes that aren’t frivolous
Why you should write non-human characters non-conforming to the gender binary
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When it’s cheap to kill off a character
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sex pollen but it lies dormant in their system until they come across the person they’ve been harboring unspoken feelings for. THEN it activates, needing that chemical reaction, and it fills them so completely with desire that they’re unrecognizable to you
The room was silent except for the rhythmic sounds of quiet breathing of the two of you . Low candlelight flickered against the dark walls of Law’s private quarters aboard the Polar Tang. The space smelled of antiseptic, metal, and something distinctly you and him—the sterile scent of a doctor mixed with something deeper, something primal, something raw and fresh.
You were seated on his work table, the papers scattered and long forgotten, legs swinging idly, but the tension in the air made it impossible to feign nonchalance.
He was watching you.
Trafalgar Law stood a few feet away, still as a predator, his golden eyes never leaving your form. His shirt had been discarded, exposing his sculpted body dusted with inked tattoos. His hands—so capable, so skilled—rested at his sides, gloved fingers twitching slightly.
You had done it again. Pushed him. Teased him. Laughed too freely at something what another man had said, let your hand linger a moment too long on another man’s arm. A game of provocation, daring him to remind you who you belonged to.
And now, here you were.
"You’re reckless," he murmured, voice deceptively calm. "You think I don’t see what you’re doing?"
You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with feigned innocence. "I don’t know what you mean, Captain."
A dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips, something cold flickering in his eyes. In a single movement, he was in front of you, between your legs, his hand gripping your chin, tilting it up.
"Lying doesn’t suit you," he murmured. His thumb ghosted over your chin before pressing down just enough to make your mouth part. His touch was both tender and possessive, the kind that sent a shiver down your spine.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "Do you enjoy making me mad?"
The way he said it sent a thrill through you. You wanted to deny it, to keep up the act, but the way your breath hitched gave you away.
He chuckled softly, darkly. "I see."
Then, his fingers trailed down your neck, gliding over your pulse, feeling the way it fluttered under his touch.
The scalpel was in his hand before you could blink.
Your heartbeat spiked as the cold blade pressed against the thin skin just beneath your jaw. A sharp inhale, but you didn’t move away. You never did.
Law’s breath was steady, controlled, but his eyes burned with something dangerous.
"You know, medically speaking," he mused, the scalpel tracing a slow, deliberate line down the curve of your throat, "there are millions of ways to cut a person without killing them."
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
"I could open you up so easily," he continued, the scalpel's edge barely breaking the skin. A thin line of crimson welled up, stark against your skin. His gaze darkened at the sight.
There was something reverent in the way he watched the blood bead and trickle. His gloved fingers smeared it slightly, watching as it painted your skin.
And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lowered his head, his tongue flicked out, licking the wound.
A sharp gasp left your lips as his mouth lingered, warm breath fanning over the sensitive skin. He groaned softly, as if tasting something forbidden, something intoxicating.
"You taste divine," he whispered, his grip tightening on your waist.
Your pulse pounded beneath his touch, beneath his lips. Law had always been controlled, always methodical—but when it came to you, his restraint unraveled. You could see it in the way his pupils dilated, in the way his breathing became slightly uneven.
"You push me," he murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing over the fresh cut. "And yet, you never run."
"Maybe I like being caught, by you." you breathed.
His chuckle was dark, vibrating against your throat. "You like this, don’t you?" His hand trailed down your side, gripping your thigh hard enough to leave bruises. "You like the way I ruin you."
The scalpel in his hand dragged lower, over your collarbone, the tip pressing just enough to sting. Another thin line bloomed red. He watched, fascinated, before pressing his lips to it once more, drinking in the taste of you like a man possessed.
You whimpered, fingers threading through his hair, tugging slightly. His responding growl sent heat pooling in your core.
"Law…"
He pulled back slightly, his thumb pressing against your parted lips again.
"Say it again."
You shivered. "Law."
His name on your lips did something to him, something unhinged.
He lifted his other hand, removing the bloodied glove with his teeth, exposing his bare fingers. The sight alone made something primal curl inside you.
"You were made for me," he murmured, cupping your cheek, his thumb smearing a streak of red across your lips. "Every part of you."
His fingers trailed lower, pressing against the fresh cuts, watching the way you gasped at the sensation. Not quite pain, not quite pleasure—somewhere in between, intoxicating in its own way.
"Tell me," he whispered, voice dangerously low, "who do you belong to?"
A beat of silence, your body thrumming under his touch.
"You."
His lips crashed against yours.
The taste of blood and something uniquely him filled your senses as he kissed you with a hunger that left no room for doubt. His hands roamed possessively, claiming every inch of you, as if he could imprint himself beneath your skin.
He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his own filled with something terrifyingly raw.
"I’ll carve my name into you if I have to," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours. "Just so the world knows you are mine."
And somehow, you knew he meant it.
Because Trafalgar Law wasn’t just a man. He was an obsession, a storm, a force of nature that would consume you whole.
And you would let him.
Had a fling with a brit boy and he broke it off right before the new year, now I can't forget my English love affair, if ya get it, ya get it:')
━ ✧.˖ GENRE: smut, porn with some plot, porn with feelings, angst with comfort
━ .ᐟ✧ WORD COUNT: 6.5k (who’s surprised)
━ ✧.˖ WARNINGS: mdni, explicit sexual content, slight spoilers and alterations to ‘omnipotent perception (rafayel’s misty invasion card), slightly toxic relationship, m!receiving handjob, bathtub sex, pulling out, cummies in hair/face, lots of making out, hickeys, HEAVY references to rafayel’s lore (sea god and some abysswalker), references to rafayel’s 4* memory fragrant dream, so much angst (with comfort), soooo much feelings, sensory deprivation, sensory play, blindfolding, switch!raf, desperate rafayel, kinda withholding rafayel, clothes on in tub, p in v seggs, use of y/n, use of pet names
━ .ᐟ✧ LINKS: video | ao3 | xav's version | sylus's version | zayne's version
━ ✧.˖ A/N: RAF IS HERE! sooooo this one is a long one. each one of my misty invasions got longer and longer, i am a menace to myself. but this one made sense, i felt as if raf’s misty invasion had the most lore subtly stitched into it and you guys know i always try and explore some angst/lore <3 i am very happy and excited to finally close out the misty invasion series.
i’m going to be taking a much needed break after this. i’ll likely still be writing, but slowly and in my own time. I had a brief period of motivation, after the clarity of sharing my story, but now i am back to being anxious and exhausted.
that being said, please do not send anyone hate in my name or in my defense. I have never and will never ask for that. it’s enough that i have your support, i don’t need more than that.
special thank you to my friend @myusuchaa for helping me SO much with the rafayel lore. definitely the biggest fish forker i know <3
as always, if i missed any warnings or used too specific physical descriptors, let me know and i can do better! thank you guys for your support. i love you!
THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL NEVER POST MY FICS ON OTHER TUMBLR BLOGS. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND ON AO3.
✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖ nsfw | minors dni | 18+ only | minors dni | nsfw ✦ . ˖ ✧ .ᐟ ˖
“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”
—
It’d been a beautiful summer day, riding bicycles along the Italian coast of Verona. Rafayel had just finished his piece for an art exhibition in the capital of the picturesque city, and you’d had time to soak in the summer breeze with each other. The air was wonderfully salty, just enough to remind you of the sea itself. Of Rafayel.
It hadn’t truly surprised you when you’d found out Rafayel had lived here before, especially now knowing his Lemurian roots. Something about the way he walked through the Veronian brick paved roads, the rustic wind tousling his beachy waves, the cloudy sun shining on his effervescent skin. Like he’d belonged here, once upon a time.
It was the perfect day.
Even when you’d teased him about the Lemurian who’d dissipated into sea foam for a mere human, and Rafayel’s expression misted over with a melancholic nostalgia. When his eyes glazed over with a torrent of inexplicable emotions, he could tell you wanted to prod him about it. But you didn’t, and for that he was incredibly grateful. There was a part of him that longed for you to know, to remember, the truth of that story. But he couldn’t trust you with that part of him again. Not yet.
Even then, it was a perfect day. The two of you in Verona, the city of Romeo and Juliet.
Two ill-fated lovers.
It was perfect, he was perfect.
Until you asked him that question.
“Do you feel lonely in this world that is totally different from yours?”
Suddenly, Rafayel couldn’t look you in the eyes. Even when the rain droplets had started to patter onto your sun kissed skin, Rafayel holding you close under his favorite cardigan to shelter you from the onslaught of crystalline water. He couldn’t look at you. He refused to look at you.
If he did, you might’ve seen the tumultuous storm flickering in his eyes. The violets in his irises bright with unshed tears, the blues dark with a bitter loneliness.
He didn’t speak to you the entire way back to your hotel, heading straight to the bathroom. At first you think that perhaps he’s upset with you, but he only draws you a warm bath in the luxurious clawfoot tub overlooking the Italian night lights.
When he finally does speak to you, peeling off his layers of soaked clothing, you can tell he’s masking his true emotions under a facade of classic Rafayel sarcasm. Joking about whether he should write a Lemurian handbook for you or just read you 1,001 Lemurian stories. But he surprises you when his voice cracks with a raw genuineness, one that’s masked under layers and layers of hesitancy and loneliness. You can’t quite understand it.
“You can be my caretaker. And I can tell you 1,001 stories,” he mutters, eyes trained on the ground once more, voice soft and vulnerable.
“I’m okay with every choice you provide,” he continues as he peels your wet jacket off your shoulders innocently. When his hand reaches the inside of your coat, grazing against your exposed waist, he pulls his hand back. His face is a storm of conflicted torment.
“...But you should take a warm bath first. Or else you’ll catch a cold.”
As he turns to leave, the sight of his lean and muscled back making you blush, you muster all your courage and call out to him, “You can’t leave. You still haven’t answered my question.”
You catch his wrist, using all your force to pull him back. Rafayel stiffens, unable to catch himself before he tumbles backwards into the filled tub.
He’s able to protect his head from hitting the edge of the tub, the water sloshing around and splashing onto the tiled bathroom floor. Rafayel sits in the tub, not a semblance of annoyance on his face. Instead he looks flustered, the warm water clinging to his defined muscles.
“Do you want me to stay?”
Rafayel’s hair is disheveled, the water making clumps of his damp hair stick to his wet skin. His eyes watch you with inscrutable emotions, waiting for you to speak.
You don’t answer his question, instead asking one of your own.
“You can spare me the details, but there’s something important you should tell me…” you hum, walking to his side by the tub, leaning over him, “How do Lemurians express love?”
Rafayel looks startled by your question for a second before composing himself, “Do you really want to know?” The fragrant candles in the bathroom flicker, the steam of the bath dancing against the soft flames. His words seem less like a genuine question…and more like a vague warning.
Before you can respond, Rafayel’s fingers are closed around your wrist, tugging you into the tub on top of him. You squeal as Rafayel guides your body onto his, the violent crashing of water loud against the soft sound of the rain against the large glass windows.
Rafayel looks smug, his hand holding yours against his chest. You’re messily sprawled across his half naked body when he shifts you off of him so that he can sit next to you, his strong arm wrapping around your body. The warm water is uncomfortable against your still half-clothed body, but you can only focus on the way Rafayel holds your fingers up to his mouth, pressing a kiss into the back of your hand like you were royalty.
“When Lemurians fall in love with someone…” Rafayel mutters, his warm breath fanning against your hand, “All our senses are committed to perceive them without question.” His eyes are intense as he speaks to you, hoping to convey even an ounce of the love he speaks so honestly of.
You raise an eyebrow at him, “Your senses? Like…this?” You untangle your hand from his, bringing your index finger up to his lips. You barely graze his pouty bottom lip before he’s panting, struggling to speak.
“...Your way of triggering my “senses” has only touched the surface,” he mutters sulkily, yet he has to look away from you, cheeks rosy at your mere touch. He grabs your hand, eyes locked back onto yours giving you a silent warning.
But you only proceed further, your fingers grasping his chin, your eyes peering up at him with a faux innocence. It’s not long before your fingers wander south, pressing into his heaving chest, flitting around his sharp collarbones. Rafayel’s reaction only fuels you with mischief and confidence, the way his breath matches his heartbeat: fast, erratic, and demanding.
He looks at you with almost…disbelief. Disbelief at your actions, but more so disbelief at the way your simplest touches can have his body reacting so viscerally. It was a testament of just how much the dark-mauve haired Lemurian loved you, his every sense reacting to you so readily.
“...Are all humans idiots?” Rafayel grits, refusing to look at you again. But his body betrays his words when your hand ventures further down. You’re barely able to register the shocked expression on his flushed face before your back is pressed into the edge of the tub, the water splashing wilding as Rafayel hovers atop you.
He’s careful not to press his body into you, knowing he’d be an absolute goner once he felt your core against his. His thick muscles twitch angrily as he holds you down against the back of the tub, your hand clutching his shoulder for support against his erratic actions.
“Someone’s intentions are as clear as day,” he accuses you. Though his words hold not even an ounce of ill-intention, he narrows his eyes at you. Just then, the rain outside turns into lightning, briefly illuminating Rafayel’s ethereal features. The flash of light accentuates the tempest that’s brewing in suspicious eyes.
As you watch the turmoil flicker in them, you suddenly think maybe you pushed too far, “Do you not like it?” Your voice comes out more insecure than you’d wanted it to, suddenly aware of how forward you were being.
Rafayel sighs, pausing before his voice comes out pained, “If I said I didn’t, would you stop?”
At the hint of anguish in his voice, you move to pull your hand away. But Rafayel’s hand abandons its grip on the tub to clasp against your hand, holding it tighter against his neck, refusing to let you go.
You gasp, as his movements cause the warm water to swash around. With his forceful hand over yours, your flushed skin prickles against his alarmingly chilly skin.
“Rafayel, your body is so cold!” you whisper worriedly, fearing he might be catching a cold. For a second you forget that he’s Lemurian, accustomed to the frigid depths of the ocean. As your eyes search his anxiously, hand still gripping his cold shoulder, Rafayel’s own eyes watch yours meticulously.
The swirls of blue and pink in his eyes have always been breathtaking, like the perfect mix of the most expensive paints. But now, as he watches you with the depth of the whole Lemurian oceans in his eyes, you’re completely speechless to the flickering of rampant passion behind them.
That is until he grabs your chin roughly. Rafayel was no stranger to taking what he wanted, but this was different. The way he grabbed you screamed of…insecurity. Demanding, but unsure all the same. His cheeks are tinged the prettiest of coral pinks, his bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he closes the distances between your faces. Quickly, so he can’t change his mind.
His soft lips slot over yours in a bruising embrace of passion, need, and unwavering longing. There’s something mind numbing about how gently his lips take yours, yet the pads of his fingers hold your chin so forcibly, as if afraid you’d slip into the depths of the water and disappear from his arms forever.
The thunder rumbles deafeningly but all you can hear is Rafayel. He pants into you, his mouth claiming every inch of your lips, of your tongue. He kisses you like he knows nothing else, like he feels nothing else.
He doesn’t let you go, although you’d never want him to. You only want him to hold you tighter, pull you closer, take you harder. You want to protest when he finally pulls away, gasping as a thin rope of saliva connects your parted and bruised lips.
Flashes of light illuminate his face, making him look as ethereal as the sirens warned about in ancient tales and myths. He hesitates to speak, trying to find the words to convey the emotions he’s been trying to control since the memories of Verona had begun to overwhelm him. The memories of his past. His past with you.
“And you’re warm,” he pants, still trying to catch his breath. His heart was pounding painfully, his body always so willing to react to you. All his senses, always so hyper aware of you, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. His thumb strokes your glistening bottom lip, fingers still holding your chin captive. His eyes watch you with an unbearable longing, the previously intense crinkle in them softened to a tender vulnerability.
“So perfect for me.”
Butterflies wriggle in your tummy, and you reach your wet hands reach up to cup his cheeks.
“Rafayel, you seem different…” you mumble, stroking the cold and smooth expanse of his cheek. He looks down, avoiding your gaze, clearly grappling with a turmoil of intrusive emotions and memories. Despite that all, his face softens under your touch, even unbeknownst to him.
Before you can ask him what’s on his mind, he’s rubbing his cheeks into your palms. The warmth of your affectionate embrace makes it difficult for Rafayel to think clearly, and he can’t stop himself from whispering, “Will you still love me no matter who I become?”
You’re speechless at the blatant insecurity in his voice, in his eyes. Rafayel was always confident, years as a world-famous artist had made him self-assured in more ways than one. But now, as his shadowed and down-cast eyes searched yours desperately for an answer, you could see just how unsure he was. You could see the cracks forming in his polished shield, the fissure spider webbing uncontrollably, on the precipice of shattering completely.
His eyes pierce yours, fully intending to get an answer from you. You don’t even think he notices how pouty he’s become, his bottom lip protruding in an tragically adorable show of just how badly he needs you to understand him. To love him.
To remember him.
Unable to withstand his paralyzing gaze any longer, you yank him down to you by the chain that hangs around his neck. The silver necklace matched the shimmering bracelet he’d gifted you, that currently sits on your own wrist.
Rafayel grunts as you pull him closer, clearly taken aback. His gaze doesn’t lighten, only becoming more intense and heated as your breath grows more bated against his own parted lips.
“You…” he grumbles, trailing off, eyes flickering down to the beautiful sheen across your lips, before they dart away, looking to where his fingers grip the edge of the porcelain white tub. The rosy blush that dusts his cheeks gives away just how much he yearns for more, more of you.
You find him to be so irresistibly tortured that you can’t help but hook your arm around his neck, pulling him further down until your lips collide with his collar. If you can take even an ounce of his tumultuous pain away, you’d do it.
The thunder roars violently as you kiss him, the water in the tub splashing over and hitting the bathroom tile. Rafayel is quick to relent all control, letting you take every inch of him. His fingers thread into your hair as you kiss his sensitive chest, teeth nipping at the cold skin on his collar. His whimpering gasps are audible, fingers tugging at your damp hair, as you suckle torturously at his chest, no doubt leaving a reddened bruise.
When he finally pulls away, there’s a clear look of reluctance on his beautiful features. You try and pull him back, and he briefly lets you before pulling back, the look of hesitation returning to his thunderous eyes.
You give up, instead moving your finger to brush against the reddened hickey forming on his collar. Rafayel looks at you, pained and begging for mercy, as your fingernails graze over the sensitive skin.
“When humans fall in love…” you hum, admiring the beautiful bruise, “We try to leave a unique mark on them.”
At that precise moment, the moment you mention you’re in love with him, you can visibly see the fractured remnants of Rafayel’s walls come crashing down. He pants, eyes fixed on the way your hand presses over the right side of his chest, so dangerously close to where his heart was. To where his bond with you was etched into his very soul.
In that very moment, a flip switches in Rafayel. His eyes burn, not with anguish or uncertainty, but with a dangerous desire.
“If you say so…” he rasps, leaning in until your breaths mingle into one. As his eyes flicker closed, lips ghosting along yours, he whispers, just before his lips claim yours.
“Join me, then.” His lips press into yours, holding back as to not take you completely.
“Let’s drown in the ocean.” He inhales your torrid gasps, his words deceitfully simple.
“Together.”
Rafayel kisses you, instantaneously consuming you. He pants into you, unable to soften the way his body reacts to you, the way his senses consume you until there’s nothing left of him. To him, loving you, losing you, and repeating the cycle…felt exactly like that.
Like drowning.
He throws all that emotion into the way he kisses you. The embrace is so intense that it makes tears form in your eyes, emotions welling in your chest so tightly you fear you might burst.
When he pulls away to breathe, you look up at him, “You never answered my question from earlier.”
Rafayel’s eyes widened, knowing exactly which question you were referring to. What he didn’t expect was for you to be so direct. His eyes dart around, but you hold his face in your palms before he can physically turn away. He opens his mouth to speak, before pursing his lips again in hesitation.
You gently prod him, fingers stroking his locked jaw, “Raf?”
“It…” he starts, eyes crackling with emotions. Rafayel struggles to find the words. He knows exactly what he wants to tell you, but can’t find the words to express it to you.
It’s not that he wanted to be withholding, least of all with you. He would give you anything. He had given you everything, time and time again. To the point where it destroyed him.
But the fear of having it all taken away, again, had made him so reluctant to lean back into the wind, like he’d done so many times in the past. Too scared of how much of himself he’d lose again in the never-ending cycle of falling irrevocably in love with you.
And yet, as much as it took from him, it didn’t matter. Because you were everything to him.
“In this human world…it’s not difficult for a Lemurian to become lonely,” he laments wistfully, eyes misted with a faraway look.
He continues. “But in all the lives I’ve lived, I almost never felt lonely,” Rafayel gently smiles at you, a smile filled with a wistful sorrow.
“Really? Why?” you ask genuinely, still soothing his hardened jaw. His features had softened considerably as he peered down at your wet form, the tension between his legs growing visibly.
Rafayel chuckles. His answer was simple.
Because, there was always you.
But that was a tale for another time.
“Are you trying to trick a foolish Lemurian into giving up all his secrets again, my little human?” he whispers huskily, leaning down to kiss at the skin under your ear.
You’re about to ask him what he means by again, but the words die on your tongue when Rafayel sinks his teeth into your neck. His fingers find the buttons of your drenched top, unbuttoning it feverishly, desperately shedding your layers of clothing off of you.
Before you know it, you’re naked in Rafayel’s arms, his own bare manhood pressed insistently into your inner thighs, dangerously close to your core. Though the rest of his body is chilly from the rainwater, his throbbing erection burns against your skin. Even submerged in water, you can feel his pre cum oozing onto your leg, hot and thick.
His lips trail down your shivering body, kissing the grooves of your collar, teeth grazing the swell of your breasts. He’s nearly heaving, gasping for air like he can’t breathe. And truthfully, he couldn’t.
The dam of his emotional barriers absolutely decimated, the flood of his unabated passion overwhelming his senses. There is only you. The smell, the sound, the feeling, the sight, the taste of you.
A Lemurian in love. Utterly, brokenly, and wholeheartedly.
You try to match his intensity, pulling at his soft and wavy hair, drawing him closer to your naked body. You thrust your chest towards him, wanting him to claim you like he’d done so many times before.
Rafayel chuckles at your obvious desires, but more than willing to oblige. His Queen.
His lips close over your breast, his lips cold but his tongue wet and hot against your nipple. The warm water splashes messily against your clashing bodies. The lightning outside flashes, the shadows of your lewd acts dancing against the bathroom walls.
“Nnghnh, R-Raf!” you wail, his skilled mouth devouring you whole. Your spine arches into his demanding mouth, the wet splashes of the bath and the ravenous slurps filling the acoustics of the hotel bathroom.
The pleasure of his tongue is so intense that your body can’t help but squirm backwards. Rafayel chuckles almost cynically, as he captures the back of your neck with his long and slender fingers.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to run away from me,” he pouts, leveling with your drooping eyes, body already delirious from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to bring you.
“Hey,” he murmurs, bringing your chin up so that your eyes meet, “Don’t make me wait anymore, please.”
You can’t help but smile at his adorable pout, his eyebrows furrowed in a sulky plea. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, twirling his wavy hair into your fingers, bringing him closer until your foreheads are pressed together.
“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper breathlessly against him, his face so close you can feel the length of his eyelashes against your cheek.
Rafayel gulps, his neck bobbing with the pressure of how forcefully he has to restrain his senses, restrain himself. It’s so clear how vulnerable he is to your every whim, so you take the opportunity to push him below you. His glimmering eyes shine with confusion, but he lets you climb atop him, hissing when your slick cunt presses down on his cock.
“What are you doing, Miss?”
You don’t answer, leaning over the tub to grab Rafayel’s damp cardigan, bringing it up to his face. He raises an eyebrow in question at you, his palms resting in the fat of your hips as your bare pussy drags against his pelvis.
“Do you trust me?” you grin playfully at him, spreading the cardigan out and preparing to use it as a makeshift blindfold. Rafayel seems to know exactly what you’re planning. He looks up at you, inexplicable emotions reflected in his glassy eyes.
“I do,” he whispers finally. His worlds are simple, yet something about them rips through your consciousness, filling you with a torrent of bittersweet fractures of a lost memory.
A memory of another time Rafayel told you those same words.
I do.
Rafayel can read the confusion in your eyes, and squeezes your hips reassuringly. You’re shaken from the confusion of your mind-bending memories. Trying to focus on the moment at hand, you clear your throat and carefully tie the soft and expensive cardigan around Rafayel’s head, effectively cutting off his vision.
You lean down to whisper against his ears, lobes pink with excitement and anticipation.
“Let me show you what else humans do when we’re in love.”
Rafaye’s entire body quakes, his chest rising rapidly at your unabashed words. His fingers dig into your hips as he does his best to limit his embarrassingly visceral reactions to your body. With his vision limited, all his other senses are heightened to your will.
With your lips at this ear, your neck is exposed to him. The smell of your pheromones mixed with your perfume clouds his thoughts, the urge to drive his teeth into your pulse so unbelievably overwhelming. But your palm on his chest pushes him down, your lips trailing down his ear, down his neck, and to his chest.
With his eyes covered, his skin is all the more sensitive to your touch,
“Please,” Rafayel rasps, nails digging into your thighs, “Please. I can’t wait anymore.”
You giggle at how adorably needy he’s become. You can tell just how much the blindfold affects him, his body more readily reactive to your lips, your fingers, your words.
Even with his eyes covered, Rafayel can’t help but pout. The inability to see you, his beautiful Queen, made him all the more desperate.
You decide to indulge him, fist closing around his cock under the water. Rafayel’s hips jolt violently, his lower half lifting to chase the friction of your soft hand. While he cries out in pleasure, you kiss down to where the water meets his defined chest.
“O-oh fuuck,” Rafayel hisses, his head thrown back on the edge of the tub, neck straining into the cool ceramic. His hips buck up into your fist wildly, your hand moving far too languidly for his taste. You continue to tease him slowly, his cock and your hand completely submerged under the surface of the water. He whimpers, teeth digging into his bottom lip, continuously thrusting up into your hand.
You take his desperation as an opportunity to torture him more, moving as gently as you can so that you can move up to his ear without him noticing. With your hand still pumping his oozing cock under the water, you whisper into his ear, letting your tongue graze his earlobe.
“When humans love someone…we want to make them feel good,” you whisper seductively into his ear, purposely letting your words come out in hot breaths. Rafayel jolts and squirms in response, fingers gripping the edge of the tub until his knuckles are pale white.
“Sh-shiit,” he hisses breathlessly as your hand pumps up and down faster, the movements causing the water to ripple. His muscles flex under your touch, shining with a wet sheen against the flashing glow of lightning.
“So? Does it feel good, Raf?” you murmur into his neck, pressing a chaste kiss to where his throat bobs with the heavy beat of his pulse.
He thrusts himself into your hand violently, voice coming out in a gravelly groan, “Yes. You always feel so fucking good. S-so soft.”
Surprising him again, you take his lips into yours, insistently pushing your tongue into his mouth, all the while your fist continues to jerk him off. You catch every one of his unabashed moans with your own mouth, the muffled sounds of his pleasure mixing with the thundering storm outside.
It’s a furious clashing of saliva, teeth, and pure unfiltered passion. His fingers digging into your waist, your fingers squeezing his cock so tightly it threatens to have him spilling all over you and the filled tub.
When you pull away, the spit dribbles down Rafayel’s chin and onto his damp chest. He looks adorably flustered, the cardigan still covering his eyes. With his sight gone, the feeling of your tongue against his, your fingers wrapped around his cock, your plush thighs against his twitching muscles is all the more intense. His body, all the more pliant for you.
“Hah – if you keep going, I’m g-gonna–”
He doesn’t even have time to finish his words when his cock lurches in your greedy hands, thick and burning rivulets of cum shooting into the lukewarm bathwater. It’s strangely beautiful, like a ribbon of iridescent pearls.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Rafayel gasps, nearly choking over his own rapid breath, his fingers gripping the edges of the tub.
His body convulses with his orgasm, a broken mantra of swears and lewd groans the only thing audible even in the roar of the storm outside.
“Nnnghnh – b-baby,” Rafayel whines as you pump him through a mind-numbing overstimulation, desperate to see you. But you don’t stop, only giggling as you watch even more cum spurt from his angry pink tip.
In a sudden flash of splashing water and strong fingers gripping your thighs, you find yourself under Rafayel again, his hand holding the back of your neck protectively as he slams you into the edge of the tub. His cardigan no longer covers his eyes, likely discarded somewhere on the wet floor.
Your eyes are wide from the whiplash of his sudden movements, “Rafayel?”
His sunset eyes blaze wildly as he watches you, the sight of you so utterly indulgent and overwhelming after having his vision returned to him.
“Will you let me worship you?”
His question is vulnerable, desperate. He looks at you so damn hopefully that it’d be impossible to say no even if some insane part of you wanted to.
You reach up to clasp his cheek in your hands, pulling him closer until your noses brush against each other, “Yes, always.”
With the breathy desperate utterance of consent leaving your lips, fanning across his open mouth, he loses it.
He forces your thighs wider, gripping you by the fat of your hips and dragging you towards him until your bare cunt brushes right against once-again hard erection. You were used to Rafayel’s virtually non-existent refractory period, his cock upright and commanding attention so quickly after his orgasm.
The lukewarm bath water makes every touch feel much more fluid, all the more intimate and sensitive. Your grip the edges of the tub for support, Rafayel’s movements erratic and unpredictable. He leans down towards you, your bodies as close as the confines of the tub will allow.
“My Queen,” he mutters under his breath like a vow, shifting to line himself up with your entrance. Without another warning, he pushes himself into you.
You squeal at the stretch, your arousal making it easy for him to push into you completely. Rafayel groans as he enters you, his head thrown back in ecstasy, his large hands wrapped around your thighs.
Rafayel is absolutely not shy with his cries of pleasure. His body shudders even though he hasn’t moved since seating himself fully inside of your warm and impossibly tight walls.
When he doesn’t move, you screw your eyes open in confusion, doing your best to speak through the wonderful stretch of his cock inside your quivering walls, “R-Raf? Are you okay?”
Rafayel doesn’t speak, but the glow of the storm outside illuminates the way his throat bobs, every fiber of his body overstimulated with the pleasure of your body gripping his, refusing to let go.
You move to shift towards him, worried about the way he’s locked up, but that only causes your body to involuntarily squeeze around him. Rafayel hisses, pushing you back down gently, his fingers caressing your cheek.
“I-I just need a second.”
“A-are you okay?” you ask worriedly.
“You’re so tight, so warm,” Rafayel chokes out, his fingers tightening around your cheek and thigh. You can vaguely feel his cock growing inside you, and it’s then you realize he’s paralyzed, not by hesitation or pain, but pleasure.
You can’t stop yourself from teasing him, clenching down on his manhood snug inside you. Rafayel moans, his hands coming down to grip your thighs in a silent warning.
“No more teasing me,” he cautions with a pout, one hand shifting to rest on your naval. At your mischievous grin, Rafayel presses down.
You cry out, eyes rolling back as he forces the walls of your pussy to rub against his cock. Rafayel wants to smirk at your helpless writhing, but the sensation is also overwhelming for him. His body heaves, nearly collapsing on top of you, only catching himself by gripping the sides of the tub.
Your fingers wrap around his trembling biceps, eyes urging him to take you.
Rafayel swears, obliging at the fucked-out look in your eyes. He unsheathes himself fully from your addicting gummy walls, barely even leaving his tip in, before shoving himself back into you.
The newfound vigor of his thrusts makes the water in the tub slosh wildly, splashing all over your face and hair. But you could care less, because the feeling of his excitement bruising its way in and out of your throbbing cunt is literally all you can think about. Pathetic moans of pleasure, the only sound you can make.
Rafayel fares no better, strings of beautiful grunts leaving his own lips. His pelvis slams into your soft inner thighs, the sound of the water against your colliding skin sinfully mixing with your combined moans.
“You’re so – nghnh – perfect for me, Y/N,” Rafayel groans as he drives into you, the tip of his cockhead brushing into your cervix and g-spot all at once, at every thrust.
His hands clutching the tub on either side of your head cage you in, making it so the only thing you can focus on is him. And the only thing that his senses can perceive is you.
The only thing he can see is you, your tears mixing with the soapy water, the reddened love bites blossoming on your skin.
The smell of you heightened even against the fragrant scent of the bath soap, your pheromones driving him to the edge of insanity.
Your wanton cries for him, fueling him to fuck you harder, the sounds of your sweet pleasure making his own noises come out unabashedly.
The taste of you lingering on his tongue every time he bends down to capture your lips in his, saliva running down both your chins.
But mostly…the feeling of your perfect walls constricting him, pulling him in, refusing to let go. The feeling of your hands, pressed deep into his twitching muscles. Your soft thighs locking him against your sopping cunt.
God, he was so in love with you it was nearly pitiful.
“You’ll always be my Queen,” Rafayel babbles, thrusts becoming erratic as he becomes overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories that’d resurfaced in Verona, “My entire heart.”
You nod vigorously at his words. “Always Raf,” you gasp, holding onto him as he pounds into you even harder, your spine thudding into the tub, the water cushioning the blows.
“You better never leave me,” he broods, putting every ounce of emotion into the way his cock claims every inch of your poor cunt. The word ‘again’ dies on his lips, the writhing artist above you opting to save that for another time.
“W-would – nnghnh – never leave you.”
His wild eyes focus on your words. He says simply, the subtleist hint of insecurity and doubt playing in his shaky voice, “I’m gonna – hah – hold you to that.”
You bob your head, wanting him to see how serious you are, see just how much he meant to you.
Your fingers venture to your clit, desperately pent up from all the sexual and emotional tension that’d built up from today. Rafayel doesn’t see you immediately, his head thrown back in a drawn out groan, his body glistening with sweat and bath water, chiseled muscles twitching with his impending release.
When he finally glances back down, he sees your fingers furiously pawing at your clit and he nearly growls at the sight beneath him.
His voice comes out broken and husky, uncharacteristically so for the normally charismatic and smooth-talking painter. He gently pushes your fingers away, his own lengthy and skilled fingers replacing yours.
“Let me,” he begs, hips stuttering as he nears his second release, “I’ll take care of you Y/N.”
His sweet words make you shiver, your body convulsing around him. Rafayel shudders as you grow tighter around him. It felt like you were nearly cutting off his circulation, in the best way.
Rafayel’s fingers on your quivering bundle of nerves have you seeing lightning even with your eyes screwed tightly shut. He truly had the hands of a god, fingers slender and deft, the pads of his digits hardened from years of skilfully maneuvering expensive paint brushes. Your body was his canvas, and he’d spend hours creating art with you.
“R-Rafayel, I’m soo – nngh – c-cloose,” you slur, your body arching into him, head thrown back until all you see is the ceiling above.
Rafayel heaves at the sensation of you coming undone around him, his fingers still rubbing furiously. There’s a bright desperation in his glowing eyes, the need to see you cum on him as strong as the need to fill you up with his endless seed.
As his body trembles above you, his fingers grip the tub so harshly his knuckles have turned taut and deathly white.
“I-I’m close too, baby,” he groans, “Please, can I cum?”
You nod vigorously, wanting nothing more than to feel him release with you But Rafayel wants to hear you.
“Say it, Y/N. Tell me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.” His voice is so brokenly desperate it drives you closer to your release, the sound of his lewd pleas so utterly erotic.
“Ra-Rafayel, n-need it s’bad. Shiiit – please!” you all but scream, his insistent fingers pushing you into your orgasm.
Rafayel chews on his bottom lip as he watches how beautifully you explode on him, so unbelievably close to finishing himself. He desperately wanted to cum inside you, but he knew if he did that he would be at the point of no return. You’d very well spend the rest of your trip in Verona locked in your hotel room, his cock nestled inside you until you literally begged for mercy. And maybe not even then.
So with every ounce of will he had left, he pulled out of you as he came, standing on his knees so he could wrap his fist firmly around his cock as he came. The force of his cum so strong it shot all over your damp breasts and even your face, your expression still contorted in the ecstasy of your climax.
You watch in awe, your cunt convulsing around nothing, your orgasm tapering off, as Rafayel trembles through his own pleasure. His cum is hot as it splashes onto your wet body, some of it shooting into your hair. Honestly the sight of how powerfully his cock erupted makes your stomach lurch in arousal.
Rafayel whimpers through his endless orgasm, his fist pumping up and down as he finishes on you. You’re left quivering beneath his imposing body, mesmerized by the white ropes of cum that shoot from his angry red tip.
When he finally finishes, his glassy eyes watch you, absolutely awestruck. He bends down, his forearms trembling as one grips the side of the tub, the other stroking your cheek. He catches a rivulet of his milky seed with his finger, grinning cheekily at your reddened face.
“I’ve never seen anything so damn beautiful.”
If it’s even possible, your cheeks burn even more furiously. You swat his fingers away.
“Shut up,” you whine, looking around at your bodies, joined in the filled tub. You inwardly cringe when you notice there’s more pools of milky white fluid than there are bubbles at this point. The amount of cum he gave you every time was nothing short of a phenomenon.
“It’s everywhere!” you shriek dramatically, hitting his chest above you, “We need to get cleaned up!”
Rafayel’s grin widens, and before you can ask him what he’s scheming, he uses the finger still on your cheek to smear his cum around.
“Rafayel!” you yelp, trying your best to inch away from his filthy fingers, coated in both your arousals, struggling due to the limited space of the tub.
“But you look so exquisite like this,” Rafayel murmurs, fingers capturing your chin, pulling you up to look at him, his eyes hazy and sated, “My beautiful Queen…”
He dips down to press a lingering kiss to parted lips, mouth hitched open in excitement. When he pulls away he grins playfully at you.
“Besides, it’s good for your skin. Lemurians have a lot of uses, you know.”
You raise an eyebrow at him, “Is that why your skin always looks so flawless?”
Rafayel’s cheeks flare, his eyes averting from yours, “Okay! Let’s get cleaned up shall we?”
You smile widely, unable to contain your fit of giggles. Your body shakes with your laughter, making the water ripple, “You’ve tried it haven’t you?”
Rafayel’s sheepish expression answers your question, “No! Shut up!”
.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.
✧.˖ i do not permit translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or others. please do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own.
Reader(?) usually wears cute outfits, no matter the occasion, but decides to stitch up the style for a night, ooc Law(?), relationship not specified, implied suggestive content, no details though.
Trafalgar Law was used to you looking cute. It was just who you were. From pastel dresses to skirts with lace trim, your outfits always matched your bubbly personality. You even had a pair of heels for every occasion, and though he never said it outright, he secretly loved the way they made you just tall enough to comfortably tuck you under his arm.
But today, you were late.
Law glanced at his watch, irritation creeping in. He had planned a quiet dinner at a high-end restaurant—a rare night out between his demanding schedule and your studies. You’d been excited about it all week, texting him photos of potential outfits and asking if the restaurant had any dessert specials.
He was about to call out to you when he heard the sound of heels clicking against the marble floor of his apartment, walking out his room where you were getting ready.
“Sorry I’m late!” you called, rounding the corner.
Law froze.
You stood there in a sleek black dress that hugged your figure in all the right ways. The neckline dipped just low enough to be enticing, and the hem stopped at your mid-thigh, showing off your legs. Your usual pastel palette was gone, replaced by bold red lipstick and heels that added an extra five inches to your height.
“Well?” you asked, twirling slightly. “Do I look okay?”
He blinked, his brain short-circuiting.
“Law?” you prompted, tilting your head.
“You look…” He cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. “Different.”
“Different good or different bad?” you asked, a teasing smile playing on your lips.
“Good,” he said quickly, his voice gruffier than usual.
You grinned, stepping closer. Even with the heels, you were still shorter than him, but the height difference wasn’t as dramatic. “You’re staring,” you teased, poking his chest.
“Can you blame me?” he muttered, his eyes drifting to the curve of your lips.
“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said, running a hand over the lapel of his blazer. “Though I feel like I’m stealing the show tonight.”
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’ll have everyone at the restaurant staring.”
You laugh, leaning into him. “Good. Let them stare.”
Law wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “None of them are going to get too close.”
Your cheeks flushed, but you kept your confident smile. “You’re cute when you’re possessive.”
“Careful,” he warned, his voice low. “Keep talking like that, and we might not make it to dinner.”
Your laughter echoed through the apartment as he grabbed his keys and led you out the door, already counting down the minutes until they could leave the restaurant and return to the privacy of his apartment.
I asked ChatGPT what kind of boyfriend Law would be and here's what it said.
Trafalgar Law, the enigmatic and strategic captain of the Heart Pirates from One Piece, would likely be a unique and intriguing boyfriend. Based on his personality traits, here's what a relationship with him might look like:
1. Protective but Reserved
Law has a strong sense of responsibility and loyalty toward his crew, and this would extend to his partner. He’d go to great lengths to protect you, but he might not always express his feelings openly. His reserved nature means you’d have to look for his affection in subtle actions rather than grand declarations.
2. Intellectual and Thoughtful
He’s a thinker and a strategist, so conversations with him would be deep and stimulating. Whether discussing plans, philosophies, or random trivia, he’d enjoy sharing his knowledge with you. He’d also appreciate a partner who can match his wit or challenge him intellectually.
3. Supportive but Independent
Law values his independence and would encourage you to have your own ambitions and interests. He wouldn’t be the clingy type, but he’d always be there when you truly needed him.
4. Mysterious and Intriguing
His mysterious nature might make him hard to read at times, but it would also keep the relationship exciting. Law’s layers of complexity mean there’s always more to learn about him, keeping you intrigued.
5. Compassionate Beneath the Stoicism
Though he appears stoic, Law deeply cares about the people he loves. He might show his affection through acts of service or quiet moments of vulnerability shared only with you.
6. Adventure and Risk-Taking
As a pirate and a surgeon of death, Law’s life is anything but ordinary. Being with him would mean embracing adventure, danger, and a lifestyle far from normal. He’d ensure your safety as much as possible, but the thrill of being by his side would be undeniable.
7. Emotionally Complex
Due to his tragic backstory, Law may have emotional walls up at first. It would take patience and understanding to help him open up fully. Once he does, though, his love would be deep and unwavering.
A relationship with Trafalgar Law would likely be a blend of mystery, loyalty, and intellectual connection, filled with both challenges and profound rewards.
ChatGPT answers what Nami would be like as a girlfriend
Nami x fem! Reader
Nami as a girlfriend in a lesbian relationship would bring a mix of playfulness, independence, and emotional depth. Her personality as the clever and confident navigator of the Straw Hat Pirates would shine in her relationship, making her a dynamic and exciting partner. Here’s how she might be:
1. Flirty and Playful
Nami has a naturally charismatic and teasing personality. She’d enjoy playful banter and flirty moments, keeping the relationship fun and lighthearted. Expect her to tease you affectionately and enjoy the attention you give her.
2. Strong and Independent
As someone who values her autonomy, Nami would encourage you to be independent as well. She’d want a partner who respects her freedom while also being her safe harbor. She’d love a relationship where both of you support each other’s goals without being overly dependent.
3. Adventurous and Energetic
Being a navigator, Nami thrives on exploration and excitement. She’d bring a sense of adventure to the relationship, whether it’s planning spontaneous trips, exploring new hobbies together, or dreaming about the future.
4. Affectionate but Selective
Nami isn’t someone who shows affection constantly, but when she does, it’s meaningful. She might hold your hand while navigating the seas or snuggle up with you after a long day. Her moments of tenderness would be rare treasures, making them even more special.
5. Protective and Fierce
Nami cares deeply about the people she loves, and she’d be protective of you in her own way. She’s not afraid to stand up for you or help you through challenges. Her fierce loyalty would shine in moments when you need her most.
6. Financially Savvy and Generous
Given her love for treasure and knack for managing money, Nami would take her role in financial matters seriously. She’d also enjoy spoiling you with thoughtful gifts, though she’d likely expect you to appreciate her own love for shiny things in return!
7. Emotionally Intuitive
Nami has a strong sense of empathy, especially for those she’s close to. She’d be quick to notice if something’s bothering you and would offer comfort in her own unique way—sometimes with advice, sometimes with a shoulder to lean on.
8. Playfully Jealous
Though Nami is confident, she might occasionally show playful jealousy, especially if someone else is vying for your attention. She’d likely address it with humor and charm, but it’d also be a sign of how much she values you.
9. Driven and Goal-Oriented
Nami is ambitious, and she’d inspire you to chase your dreams while working hard toward her own. She’d love a partner who respects her goals and shares her drive for a fulfilling life.
10. Romantic with a Dash of Sass
When Nami decides to be romantic, she’d do so in her own stylish and sassy way. Whether it’s a candlelit dinner or stargazing on the deck, she’d make it memorable, adding her signature charm and wit to every moment.
Being with Nami would be an exhilarating mix of passion, fun, and mutual respect. She’d be a girlfriend who challenges you to grow, keeps you on your toes, and loves you fiercely when it matters most.
CW: lip-picking, blood, Law may seem a little sadistic(likes blood)? other than that just fluff ig? And it's very short and badly written☝🏻💀
You couldn't seem to stop picking at your lips, always forgetting to apply the chapstick or lip balms you had gotten at the previous island, much to Law's dismay. The habit was so bad that your lips barely would look chapped if not for the blood or the redness on your lips.
Every time Law kissed you a little too hard, he could taste the metallic tinge of your blood, it tasted like you to an extent. If it weren't for the bad habit, he would have definitely enjoyed it much more than he'd like to admit. He doesn't mind blood as long as you consent to it and aren't hurt.
Oftentimes he holds your hand to prevent it from going to your lips when you are around each other, sometimes pressing on your chin to free your lips from your teeth, even if you both are engaged in completely different tasks. Gives you endless lectures as to how you need to have more self-control and get out of the habit and what not, all of which seems to go in through one ear and out the other.
It's not that you aren't trying, it's just that the routine of applying something to your lips gets boring and you forget due to having things more important on your mind, you forget, although the lip masks helped your lips a lot.
He still loves kissing you, he loves your mouth a lot, but stay hydrated and don't forget your lipbalm/chapstick!
Trafalgar Law soulmate au | Whatever you write on your arm appears on your soulmates arm.
Fluff? A bit of angst? Idk what this is. Probably trash. Happy ending tho.
Unintentionally went overboard with this. 1/?
Law was in the middle of writing medical journals on his research when he suddenly stopped, noticing something in the corner of his eye. He looked down at his forearm where a doodle of a tiny mushroom was slowly disappearing. He was used to the little doodles appearing every now and then, and like always he shook his head and ignored it as he went back to his writing.
The mushroom disappeared completely but not even a minute later another doodle appeared. This time, it was a little frog. And just as Law was about to continue writing he watched as the doodle begin to disappear. “How childish” he muttered to himself. He had no interest in finding his soulmate, he reminded himself again that he is far too busy and the very concept of someone being out there just for you was foolish.
Yet despite Law's attempts to focus on his work, the doodles kept reappearing and disappearing. They started to annoy him since they kept distracting him from importer matters. With a sigh he yet again reminded himself that there was no point in even entertaining the thought of his soulmate since that person would no doubt eventually be dragged down by all his troubles. He focused his eyes on the paper in front of him, once again attempting to ignore the doodles appearing on his arm.
Everyone in the four seas grew up knowing the concept of finding your soulmate. You remember being told as a young girl that if you write a message on your arm, someone out there will be able to read it and they would write back. You were so excited the first time you wrote a message, you couldn’t help but wonder what your person would be like. What are they going to write back? Will they be funny? Maybe they are really smart? What do they look like? Where are they from?…The very thought of having someone out there destined for you was so exciting, it was like having a best friend made exactly for you! So when no reply appeared on your arm you thought, maybe they are asleep right now? Or maybe it disappeared before they noticed it? But when days grew in weeks, into months, your disappointment grew immeasurable. Were they okay? Did you just not have a soulmate?
Law was no exception to the belief that everyone has a soulmate. He knew the concept. He just had no desire to find his soulmate in the first place. Because of his past record, because of his past, because of…him, he feared he would only be a burden to some poor girl out there. And if he ever did find his soulmate, he believed they'd eventually just be dragged down with his problems. So he decided to ignore the concept entirely. He decided to ignore the scribbles that kept appearing on his arm and after a while his soulmate stopped writing messages. Only to be replaced by silly doodles instead.
And the same happened today, more silly doodles appearing and disappearing. Law decided to continue with his work, shaking off the occasional distraction, he was more used to it by now. Though it was still annoying every now and then. Just as went to grab his coffee mug he noticed a small doodle of a bear which involuntarily caused him to give a small smile.
And for a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe he was deserving of a soulmate. Just a brief moment, a mere thought. He immediately shook away the smile, trying desperately to avoid any feeling of sentimentality. He had more important things to do than to think about a silly concept.
You gave up a long time ago writing to your soulmate. You told yourself that you probably didn’t even have one. And if you did they never wrote back so why bother? Sometimes for fun, or when you were bored you would draw little doodles on your arm…no, deep down you knew you did this just in case. Just in case they did exist, maybe you could make them smile or remind them that you were still out there.
The doodles that have appeared so far today have all been silly. A little mushroom, a badly drawn frog, multiple flowers, some squiggly patterns and the little bear. The bear was…kind of cute? He thought for a second before he ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to collect his thoughts. He needed a break. Soon he’d be traveling with the Strawhats and he needed to complete his plans.
Fast-forward
Today was the day he would temporarily part with his crew, keeping them safe while he completed his upcoming mission. Law scans through his notes as he walks to the Sunny wanting the ensure he was fully prepared, or at least as prepared as he could be when dealing with the Strawhats. He notices another doodle appear, this one depicting a little bee. He chuckles briefly and shakes his head. It just seemed so silly. Do they have nothing better to do?
However, the fact that his soulmate drew doodles like that made Law feel oddly warm...just for a moment, just the briefest moment. He was surprised with how much a little doodle could brighten up his day. He smiled to himself before it even crossed his mind. And just like that, his warm feeling was instantly replaced by his usual cold-hearted persona. He needed to get on the damn ship, there were more important things to do than to keep staring at his stupid arm. And so, with some grumbling, he made it onto the ship. After a few hours he noticed the doodles had stopped appearing entirely, maybe his soulmate had given up. Maybe they'd simply gotten bored. Either way, it didn't matter. His sole responsibility was to get through this next mission. Nothing else mattered.
The next few days were rather busy as he attempted to plan and research around the chaos of the strawhat crew. No little doodles had appeared on his arm since he got on the ship. He didn't mind at all, if anything, he enjoyed having his arm free from the distraction. Law was finally able to have a few minutes in peace and quiet. Despite telling himself this multiple times he couldn’t help but occasionally glance at his arm. For some annoying reason the lack of silly flowers and bears appearing was starting to bother him.
He would never admit it but with each day that went by without seeing a stupid cat or a silly frog made him feel, sad. The silence that the lack of doodles had left almost made him feel lonely in a way, he hated it. He didn't understand why it bothered him. The doodles were nothing but stupid, insignificant scribbles. Yet somehow, his day just seemed to feel empty without them.
You didn’t know Law all too well but you knew that Luffy considered him an ally, a friend, which was good enough for you. Luffy told you he was a bit grumpy but a good guy who would help us. The first time you ever spoke to law he explained Despite their differences and how often they disagreed, he could admit they had built a certain level of trust...but he'd still punch Luffy if he tried anything funny though. You noticed Law standing out on the deck looking even more annoyed than usual as he looked out at the sea.
Law was leaning against the railing of the ship as he observed his surrounding with a frustrated expression. The seas were calm and the breeze was gentle, his mood was not. He was irritated. It made absolutely no sense. He had more important things to think about. Like...the mission at hand he told himself. The longer he thought about it, the more he started to get the impression his soulmate had obviously given up for good. This was the longest they had gone without drawing anything. He was actually becoming quite miffed about it. Why would they suddenly stop? Of course, that thought made him feel rather dumb because it’s not like he ever wrote back…but still, it made him oddly annoyed. He was actually starting to get jealous. Maybe someone else might have caught his their eye. Maybe they didn’t have time anymore? Law shook his head furiously to try and force that nonsense out his head.
You made your way over to Law, maybe he just needed some company? It must be hard being on an unfamilar ship, maybe he misses his own crew?
Law looked up as he saw you approach him, he didn't seem particularly pleased. In fact, he barely looked pleased at all. However, when he saw it was you he looked like he was forcing himself not to seem annoyed. He even made an effort to loosen his expression a bit. Though he was still visibly irritated, he tried his best not to snap "If you need something, what is it?"
You chose to ignore his irritated tone, he’s definitely not in a good mood. “Just thought you could use some company? Must be hard being away from your crew”
Law was about to snap at you but he held his tongue. Maybe he was being too harsh. Perhaps he was letting out his frustration on you, which wasn't fair. Instead, he attempted to soften his reply, though the fact that he was in a bad mood made the reply sound annoyed. "I'm fine. I just have a lot of important things I have to do”
“Like stare at your arm every two minutes?” you softly chuckle.
Law paused for a moment. His expression immediately darkened after he realized you noticed him doing that. He was caught red-handed. And he did not like it. He let his annoyance show, as he sharply said..."What of it?." He immediately cursed himself for letting his annoyance get the best of him. He was trying not to take it out on you, but he had just done the exact thing he tried not to do.
Again you chose to ignore the blatant annoyance in his tone and asked simply “Are you waiting for your soulmate to write back?” you asked curiously.
Law's eyes narrowed a bit more when you said the word "soulmate". However, you were right. He had been doing just that, although he would never admit it at the moment. "It's...it's nothing”
“I’m sure they will write back” you smile reassuringly. “is that what has you so grumpy?” You add with a playful smile.
“I’m not grumpy” He quickly grumbled. "And as for my soulmate, I assure you, I do not care if they write back or not. And for your information, they haven't written a thing in days, so I am certain that they don't have time to write anymore. In fact, I am certain that they will never write back. If anything, I have been enjoying the silence." He was trying way too hard to put on a stubborn front. He crossed his arms, attempting his best to act like he didn't care. However, it was a poor attempt. He cared a lot, and he wasn't sure what to do. Why was he so miffed about it? He was trying to be rational and suppress his emotion but he was failing miserably. If only they would just write back. There was also the fact that he was feeling strangely lonely because the doodles had stopped appearing. He was actually growing quite attached to them, despite being fully aware of the irony of the fact he himself has never written a single thing.
“Uh huh…” despite his outburst it was pretty clear that he did in fact care. “Well at least your soulmate writes back at all” you mumbled with a hint of a sad tone.
"...What do you mean by that?" there was an almost accusative tone in his reply. As if he was trying to pry at you. This was a great chance to distract him from his own misery.
“I mean that at least you have a soul mate to write back…I don’t even have one” you let out a small laugh in attempted to cover up your depressive words.
Law paused for a moment when you mentioned not having a soulmate. He didn’t want to pry too much as he felt you didn't want to go into detail, yet he decided to humor your statement. Law sighed. “How do you know you don't have a soulmate? Maybe they're just really slow with their writing."
“Yeah because I’m sure it takes them years to come up with something to say” you deadpan back.
Law couldn't help himself and he let out a soft chuckle at your humour. As he returned to his usual self, he spoke again. His tone was sarcastic as usual and he raised an eyebrow. “You should be glad that you don't have one. Having a soulmate seems to cause more headaches than joy at times." Law continued to observe you, noticing that his little comment left an impact on you. Your body language instantly changed and your cheerful demeanor quickly vanished when he made his comment. He had inadvertently struck a chord.
“Hmm…maybe” your attempt to go and cheer Law up was quickly crushed as you were reminded that you didn’t have a soulmate, or at least one who wanted you. You tried not to think about your soulmate never writing back to you but when you did it just made you…sad.
Law immediately noticed the tone of your voice instantly dropped the moment you spoke. It was evident that his statement bothered you. Though he didn’t show it, he felt somewhat guilty about having said that. What a fool he was, he had been trying to lighten the mood by saying that it isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, but all he did was be insensitive...and there it was, again. That sinking feeling that he was doing something wrong.
“Anyway dinner is in about an hour so…if you excuse me I have some work I have to do” you put on a smile as you excused yourself.
Law was still deep in thought when you gave your excuse and left. As you walked away, the sinking feeling grew in his chest. He had messed up again, he was too insensitive. He should have realised that his little comment would bother you, especially considering the fact that you never heard back from your soulmate. He should have been more considerate. However, he was so preoccupied with his own feelings that he hadn’t even considered your feelings. A new sense of guilt also washed over him as he thought about that fact he never replied to his own soulmate. Was there was another girl out there feeling sad like you? Thinking that they don’t have a soul mate just because he’s too stubborn to write back.
Law sighed and walked away as well. What a fool he was. Soon he was back with the rest of the crew and he was already being bombarded by Luffy’s shenanigans. Law had no choice but to keep it together. He was going to get through this mission and then he'd deal with his feelings. Because after all, feelings are nothing more than a distraction.
CW: none, just little nsfw in zoro and crocodile's part
Robin
Would probably say some horrific fact about periods. But she'd try to comfort you nonetheless, she'd ask Sanji to get you a nice fruit juice and would get a hot water bag for you. She'll let you put your head on her lap as she reads. May give you a massage too, if you're lucky.
Law
Doctor mode activated. Hot water bag, healthy food and drinks to keep up with your body's needs, enough rest. Might, just might melt if you give him cute enough doe eyes to convince him to give you some junk or sweets or something. If the cramps are too bad he'll make you lay on his bare chest as one hand massages your head and the other is either holding up a medical book/comic or he's massaging your lower back, just depends on the time. Might refuse to let you have painkillers regularly because of its effect on the liver.
Luffy
Baby doesn't know what to do, but you're in pain. Even if you tell him you're okay he'll go to Chopper and freak out. Chopper would tell you to rest and instruct Luffy to take care of and maybe give you a massage. He's confused but obeys. Spoiler: he's bad at massages. But at least he's got the spirit. Will fall asleep and squeeze you to death but that helps your cramps in a way lol.
Zoro
Just as clueless as Luffy but he's not as hopeless. He'll have you cuddle with him. May even look for period pain relief workouts. He tries his best to just comfort you though, and tries to make you laugh if you don't feel like sleeping.
He might try to put his dick in you so-
Crocodile
This man is gonna let you get an exotic massage every month just to have you shut up about your cramps. Lots and lots of expensive chocolates and spas to keep your mind off of the pain. Not very affectionate but will try to cuddle you. He's trying too.
If you are willing to, might give you some rough period sex.
