Hewoo! â„ïž Absolutely fell in love with your fluff HC of Corazon! ( he would also fall , but LITERALLY ) I'm not sure if this is a complex request or if you accept it, but in between this and the hot stuff you wrote for Sabo, is it possible for a fluffy hot first time with Cora? I think he would be so delicate but intimate, because he could finally be himself and so open with the f/reader he loves. *Nothing but happiness for our Heart/Corazon*â„ïžâ„ïž
A fluffy but hot first time being intimate with your lover, Rosinante
Now Playing: Hummer - The Smashing Pumpkins
Banner Images: 1 and 2
Description: afab!reader, established long-term relationship but they've been taking it slow, first time for both reader and Rosinante (and therefore inexperienced sex), not a lot of plot but there is a build-up, they live in a house in the forest, could be read as modern-au or op world.
Warnings: mentions of fire and burns, mention of scars (Rosinante), explicit sexual content; 18+
You gently stepped outside of your bathroom. In the cloud of steam that escaped, it was difficult to see as you carefully padded across the floor. Switching on the lamp by the bed, it cast a hazy, warm glow throughout the room. It mirrored the feeling of the robe you had wrapped snugly around yourself. Despite your home's thick wooden walls (and Rosinante's diligent efforts to insure the best insulation possible), the rain and wind always found a way to seep through and chill the house.
As you slipped on some worn but well-loved slippers, your eyes were drawn to the bed where Rosinante's ridiculously large, but oh-so-cozy coat lay sprawled across the bottom section.
You ran your fingers through the soft feathers, warm and ashen in their embrace. It smelled faintly of smoke and a soft musky-wood. The gentle but deep comfort of its scent, especially when wrapped around you, mirrored the security you felt from the expanses of dense forest outside; a safe and secluded haven for you and your love.
You tenderly spread the coat to lie evenly across the base of the mattress â you'll certainly crave its warmth tonight.
Smiling as you thought about how easy sleep comes to you thanks to both this coat and it's lovely owner, you figured you should call for the man in question.
"Rosi?" you spoke into the dim hallway.
"Mmhmm," was the faint reply you were met with.
You cautiously made your way towards the living room. Each step echoed the pattering rain outside the walls.
The curtains had been drawn and the fireplace lit, gently crackling away. As you carefully navigated around the couch and table, you were met with a fresher scent of smoke - but not the kind the fireplace emits on its own. Your husband had undoubtedly burned himself while setting up the fire without you. Of course you wished he didn't get hurt, but it was endearing.
"What're you doing, love?" you spoke into the darkness of the kitchen.
"Come here," he spoke. And although you couldn't see him, you could hear the smile on his face.
The smoke mingled with the faint smell of dinner from earlier, and a newer, sweeter aroma tickled at your nose.
Huddled in the small kitchen was Rosinante, wiping down the counter. Two matching mugs sat illuminated in the firelight, releasing soft wisps of steam up and into the air.
The act warmed you more than any fire, coat or blanket ever could. It made blood rush to your cheeks and pulled at your heart.
You loved this man. In all his clumsy, giant, sweet and stubborn glory.
"Did you use your cigarette lighter on the fire again?" you asked with a laugh.
"Yes, sorry⊠It didn't burn me, though! Just my sleeve," he rambled apologies. It really did something to you, seeing this man who stood many heads taller than you, blushing and bumbling.
"It's okay," you smiled. And to confirm you weren't at all upset, you pulled him down to plant a kiss against his lips. He tasted like cigarettes and a hint of chocolate. Clearly, he had been trying to perfect the art of making a hot chocolate for you.
You pulled him into a loving hug, and Rosinante nuzzled into your neck, entranced by you and the wonderful hint of soap that lingered on your skin.
"I burned my tongue on the hot chocolate though," he muttered against your collarbone. You could feel his cheeks warm in embarrassment.
You smiled and gave his hair an affectionate stoke.
"I was worried about you getting burned by the fire, but what I really needed to worry about was the hot chocolate?" you replied in mock-exasperation. Then, a whisper to his ear: "Want me to kiss it better?"
"Yes, please." He moved to stare innocently at you with those beautiful, warm eyes.
Oh, this man.
You loved taking care of him, showing him how much you cared. You needed to give him all the love and happiness you had to offer, and then some.
This was Rosinante â his genuine and unapologetic self, displayed for you and you alone, because he loved you and you loved him.
You moved your lips against his in a practiced harmony.
The mugs of not-so-hot-anymore chocolate sat forgotten, pushed from your minds by thoughts only of your love.
Rosinante lifted you delicately to rest upon the counter. He moved with precision so as to not break the kiss.
Your soft sighs and the gentle shift of clothes were drowned out by the rain and crackling fire as they competed for dominance, much like your tongues as they twisted and turned against each other.
For several minutes you stayed there, two souls intertwined, lost in bliss.
When you regrettably broke away to catch your breath, Rosi's lips trailed after you. You could've sworn you heard the softest whimper, stolen away by the battering rain against the nearby window.
Rosinante's hands wrapped tighter around your waist as you gave him another quick peck. With your hands interlocked behind his neck, you were able to pull his head down closer to rest against your own.
You don't know how long you sat there, just staring into his eyes, and his yours. Rosinante's hands travelled up and down your back in a comforting rhythm until you finally broke the silence.
Surrounded entirely in Rosinante, you spoke, straight into his attentive eyes.
"I'm ready, love"
"Are you sure?", a stuttered whisper against your lips. His hand, hard and calloused, cupped your face as you nodded. "I am too," he declared breathlessly.
His excitement was barely contained as your mouths met once more â this time melting with passion and more heat than you've ever felt before.
Anticipation buzzed through you as Rosinante lifted your form with ease. Regrettably, his eyes left their burning gaze on yours to instead watch his path as he carried you to the bedroom; a reasonable compromise, he assured himself. Rosinante would never forgive himself if your first time were to be delayed due to a concussion incited by him tripping on a loose floorboard.
He places you on the bed oh so slowly, as if you were the most delicate thing in the world. Rosinante takes his time finding his place above you, and sinks slightly to nudge your nose with his. Your reply to his unspoken question is a kiss. So in tune you are with each other that words needn't be spoken.
You had both agreed to take your relationship slow. To just enjoy time together. After all, you had all the time in the world here in your secluded paradise.
Rosinante is slowly taking off your clothes, kissing after each item is removed. It brings you reassurance and quiets any fears, and gone are whispers of uncertainty. Without even a second of hesitation, you repeat the process for him, taking extra care to kiss the scars that decorate his form.
Neither of you really know what you're doing, and that's okay. There's comfort in knowing that, and on taking this journey together on no-one's terms but your own. Just you and Rosinante, the man you love more than words can describe.
Fully bare now, one of his hands tenderly strokes your face, the other propped beside you. It's clear he is fearful of squishing you. So, just as he assured you before, you coax him to settle down on his elbows. You interlace your fingers together and look up at Rosinante with a smile. It's vulnerable and honest, conveying how much you love him, how much you trust him.
You both know it's the right time to show each other how you feel.
Rosinante's skin is warm where it presses against yours. Your lips meet again, fingers squeezing, legs tangling. That initial hesitation has been blown away by desire, hot lust humming in the air.
Your hands begin to explore each other, enamoured by your lover's beauty. Rosi's hands trail a hot path along your chest as he makes his way to your breasts. He begins to caress them lightly.
Spurred on by the soft sounds you begin to make, he spirals inwards to the stiffening peaks. He pulls and pinches, twists and squeezes, hungry to hear all the sounds you make.
The heat of the situation feels like it has seeped into the room and made it difficult to breathe. All you can think about is the man before you, who's hands are beginning to move again. Rosinante continues to maps your body and you do the same, desperate to feel every part of your lover - to love every inch of him.
"I want to make you feel good," his voice against your skin makes goosebumps rise.
A finger prods at your entrance, hesitantly, gently exploring. Your body welcomes him and you moan into his chest at the feeling. When he slowly moves the finger, Rosinante too lets out a groan at the feeling of you, so eager for him. Another soon follows, and your body takes it greedily. Not only are his fingers deliciously large, they're also extremely precise.
Rosinante is dedicated to reaching that perfect spot â and, oh god, he is. The feeling of you contracting around his finger, your quickening pants spur him on.
Your hands fly to his bond hair, twisting at his scalp. He releases a whimper properly this time, and unconsciously ruts himself against the bed.
Lost in the lust, all you can hear is your own breathing. You feel incredible.
In the haze you try to search for Rosinante's eyes, but his head is down and gaze far from your own. Transfixed on your nipples, he returns to worship your chest. Now with more confidence, this time he alternates between his mouth and fingers.
The additional layers of pleasure send you rocketing to your peak. You moan his name over and over, hands digging into his hair and scratching down his neck and back. Heat courses through your veins as you practically vibrate with intensity. You would be thrashing about ridiculously if it weren't for Rosi's weight on top of you. The feeling of him all over you, loving you, explodes from within.
You come with a scream of his name.
The feeling has him shaking, muttering "I love you's" against your damp skin as he waits for you to settle.
Once you have both caught your breath, you pull his lips to meet yours again.
"That was amazing," you sigh. Rosinante can see in your eyes the love that you hold, and hopes that same love is reflected back in his own. It's taking everything in him not to begin rutting against you, or even just the bed.
You give him a fond, knowing smile and a soft nod. Rosinante scrambles to push himself slightly upwards, positioning his lower half against your own.
His face is flushed and body trembling, but he holds himself still. It's clear he still has fears of hurting you, doesn't want to rush. Your hands find his own and squeeze.
"We'll take it slow," you say. And your eyes hold so much reassurance, comfort and love that he might just combust on the spot. You release one of his hands to gently guide him towards you, steady and soft against his twitching form. "I love you."
"I love you too," he sighs back.
Slowly, slowly your bodies unite. You're both panting heavily again, and Rosi's forehead crashes against your own. Your free hand pushes the damp hair from his face and finds it's place in his own hand again.
You lie there for a minute, as close together as you can possibly be.
Your fingers are still tightly interlocked when, hesitantly, Rosinante begins to move. You both release a moan at the same time.
His breathless laugh â one of pleasure and pure elation â rocks your world. The sparkle in your eye does the same to him. Spurred on by the feeling, you both move against each other, rocking in time to the rhythm of your heaving chests, your moans and sighs a song for only each other.
Your pace continues, and Rosinante's hands dance across your body, exploring, touching and cherishing every part of you. You kiss all of him that you can reach.
Soon, that tension returns in your stomach. As you feel yourself ascending to that peak again, and know Rosinante is right there with you. His eyes are blown open wide and he thrusts frantically into you now.
The change in pace and intensity takes you by surprise and you lose yourself. Blinding light takes over your vision and all you feel, all you know, is Rosinante and love. Overwhelming love.
The feeling of your orgasm around him sends him away too. All he can do is moan your name over and over again.
As you both come down from your highs, you settle into a comfortable bliss. Your bodies are intertwined in every possible way. No words need be spoken, only tender kisses and sighs of delight.
In the peaceful afterglow of your first time together, your heart feels more full than you ever thought it could be, and you hope that Rosinante feels the same.
And when he shifts to stroke your body with such delicacy, and massages your legs, arms and back with the most tender, loving touches, you can feel his love. You know he feels just as much love as you do.
Author's Note: I tried to convey that "domestic bliss" I feel suits Rosinante so well (he deserves a peaceful life filled with love). I also really tried to give him a lot of personality. Since he isn't explored very much in canon, I took the core components of his character that we do know and fleshed them out more. particularly his kindness, clumsiness, intelligence (emotional intelligence, too) and stubbornness. Hopefully my interpretation of Rosinante rings true for others. Despite all my procrastination, this was really fun to write!
Midoriseas 2026 | Do not copy or reproduce my work, or use it to train AI
What's it like falling for her? How does it feel to slowly realise that maybe, you're already head over heels in love?
Note: Wanted to write a little something wlw. Written with Koala in mind, but the love interest is really quite ambiguous.
Description: Slight fem!reader, fluff, hopeless pining, and lesbian situationship, I guess?
Drabble: 395 words
Thinking about how good her name would sound with your last name, and vice versa. Thinking about situations that could result in kissing her â or better yet â her kissing you. Thinking about kissing. Thinking about cuddling. Wanting to sleep next to her. You want her to hold you. You want to feel her hands. What would they feel like on you? In your hair? What if you brushed back her hair?
Thinking about how things would go if you were in a relationship. Thinking through detailed scenarios about this. Referring to her as "love", and "my love" (in your head). And it feels so right, but sounds crazy. Telling her "love you". She says it every day to you too. But it's just a platonic love, right? You're just really close friends. Do you⊠love her?
Always finding a way to bring her into a conversation. Mentioning her. All. The. Time. Feeling an uneasiness or protectiveness whenever she is spoken about. Getting jumpy around her name. Triggered into thinking of her when hearing anything that sounds similar to her name.
Finding yourself watching her. You smile when she smiles. Seeing her happy makes you feel happy too. Watching her fondly when she does what she loves â when you see her passion. Her passion fuels passion in you. You love listening to her. You're a good listener, she's a good talker. Yin and yang. You understand each other. You balance each other. It's harmony. Peace. Safety. Familiarity.
You miss her when separated. You need to be close. You need her by your side. You're not truly you when you're not with her, not fully whole when she isn't around.
Physical contact is comforting and casual. Everything she wears looks beautiful. You're jealous of how pretty she looks, but not because you want to look pretty the way she does. You're not jealous of her beauty, you're jealous she's not yours to call a beauty. That she's not your beauty.
But you still want to impress her â to make her think that maybe you look beautiful too. Even though you know she would just want you to comfortably and happy, and couldn't care less about looks. She's seen you at your worst and best, stuck with you through thick and thin, highs and lows.
Maybe you truly are hopelessly, wholeheartedly and downright devastatingly in love with her
Author's Note: Trying to get back into writing, and had a lot of fun scribbling this down. Very much based on personal experiences.
Again, this could be about anyone, really. But I was originally thinking of Koala (she deserves more fics) and this is a one piece blog, so I'll tag it as such.
Midoriseas 2025 | Do not copy or reproduce my work, or use it to train AI
Sabo helps wants to relieve your frustrations and anger. But right now, it only seems like he wants to rile you up further.
Part One, next part coming soon!
Banner Images: 1, 2 and 3
Description: 18+ content, minors and anyone who is not willing to see such content, please do not interact! Sabo x afab!reader
Warnings: Sexual content, heated making out, choking, teasing, biting, mentions of blood (as a result of the biting), Sabo is a freak and has sharp teeth because I say so, a bit of dirty talk. Please let me know if I missed any!
No penetration or heavy smut occurs in this. It will be in Part 3.
Songs: Bring Me To Life - Evanescence, iNSTEAD! - Xdinary Heroes (I thought of this song while writing, and it matches perfectly)
"What are you taking about?"
"You read the newspaper, yeah?" The world's fucked up. We're all fucked up, honestly. I get it. I feel like this all the time, too. Sometimes you just need someone to be angry with."
"I'm not really in the mood for some heartfelt conversations, Sabo" you spit out.
"That's not what I was suggesting." That grin is back on his lips. It's almost sadistic.
You look on at him, hopelessly lost.
"Let me fuck the anger out of you."
He takes your silence as hesitation and steps right in front of you. You can feel his hot breath as he leans towards your ear, goosebumps rising on your sweaty neck. His voice is husky now, laced with evident desire. "What do you say, baby?"
You don't give him a response. Instead opting to yank his head towards yours.
Your lips meet in an aggressive clash. It's hot, messy and sticky. You feel his mouth stretch in a grin against yours, and you bite down on his lower lip in response.
Your bruised hands now fist the collar of his shirt as you pull him impossibly closer in an attempt to drown yourself in him. It's not hard to stop thinking when Sabo's hands are in your hair, nails digging into your scalp as he controls your head to deepen the kiss.
Your teeth and tongues clash, fighting for dominance as you both get lost in the heat of it all. His hands are hot as they roam your body, grabbing at everything. Yours do the same - moving from his chest to his neck to now grip at his biceps as you tug him back towards the closest wall.
Ever perceptive, Sabo follows through to stumble back with you. His hands brace themselves on your shoulders as he shoves you right up against the rough stone. It's grimy and presses in uncomfortable points against the exposed skin of your back, but you can't bring yourself to care that much. If anything, it spurs you on.
Sabo places his body against yours, never breaking the kiss. His skin against your own is searing with heat, as is his tongue.
Suddenly, he slots a knee between your legs. You groan in response, allowing the wet muscle to explore the caverns of your mouth as he pleases, spreading warmth in it's journey. The heat of it is just enough to burn pleasurably.
Still engaged in a deep kiss, his knee begins to gently move. The rough fabric of his pants rubs in a frustratingly delicious way against the growing wetness between your legs. You're beginning to feel light-headed when you start to scratch his back, and he removes his mouth from yours, but doesn't back up at all. If anything, he just flattens you against the wall even more (if that is even possible) with the rest of the body.
He lets you take some deep breathes until you let out a spontaneous moan - his hard length taking the place of his knee against you.
"Fuck, Sabo." You're breathless again. You look up at him, and those dark eyes clouded with lust mirroring yours.
He doesn't give you much more time to think before his hand wraps around your throat. Long, gloved fingers squeeze the sensitive skin. At the same time, he ruts against you, this time both of you releasing a groan.
"Gonna fuck you so good, he growls."
Your hands reach up to swipe his hat off his head, frustrated with the layers of fabric separating you from him. They rub uncomfortably and stick to the sweaty skin of your chest and legs. The hat clutters to the floor somewhere behind you.
You gasp out, "Take off your clothes."
He squeezes your neck again, at the same time grinding against you. It's getting harder to think clearly.
His face is right up against yours. You feel like his eyes alone could melt you, those big black orbs radiating hot intensity.
"Since when did I take orders from you?" he replies with a sadistic smile on his lips. He loves this. Loves to watch you break beneath the weight of his gaze.
You squirm to free an arm from its position pinned beside your hip, the wall scratching against your back as you do so. In an instant, you have a hand wrapped around his throat too, squeezing just enough to let him know you aren't playing around.
He laughs - laughs!
Sabo makes no move to remove your hand, only grinds against you once again. This time, your eyes roll back, as do his.
You unconsciously tighten your grip on him, digging your nails into the flesh - if he would just get rid of all those goddamn layers, you could scratch up his back instead (you know he likes that most).
"So fucking needy," he relents, pulling back from you just enough to remove his clothing. Your hand falls back against the wall at your side as he does so, balled in a fist. You're impatient and even more frustrated now.
You watch as he makes swift work of loosening his collar, ripping off his coat and waistcoat. The muscles of his arms flex deliciously as he does so, the imprints of your nails on his neck contrasting in an angry red hue.
He's back on you in an instant, now in just his tight blue undershirt and pants.
The leather gloves are still on. Those fucking gloves. They grab at your waist and hips, pulling you flush against him. As much as you want to hate it, the material radiates his heat sensationally, almost searing at your already burning skin.
Anger and frustration is still upon your face, jaw tense. Smiling all the while, Sabo nips at the skin below your ear, his sharp canines making their way down the line of your jaw. Your hands fly up into his hair and dig into his scalp with equal aggression. This time, he groans, you smirk.
Without his hat, it's easier to pull him back from you now, and yank his face back up towards your lips. They're swollen and throb a little, but it's just the kind of sensation you need.
"Bite my tongue instead," you grit out. Sabo's smirk is devilish, those pointed pearly white teeth shimmering menacingly in the low light. As your mouths meet again, he complies with your demand.
His teeth scrape against your tongue, feeling as much as he can. And when your fingers dig into his hair yet again, they sink down into writhing muscle. The feeling is heavenly. You let out a muffled moan and push against him as he pierces into you.
Sabo continues to service your mouth, sucking the tender area. He's eager to taste the sweet metallic flavour of your blood, and when he does, he releases the most feral growl you have ever witnessed.
His hands dig into your hips hard enough to ensure a bruise and you squirm, urging him to supply more friction below.
You're starting to lose your vision from the lack of oxygen. Your heart is pumping wildly in your ears and your head feels heavy, but not from anger.
Sabo has you completely under his spell. He's kissing your lips again, and in your delirious haze, you can just taste the hints of your blood on his own lips. With a pop, he releases you to breathe, taking with him a long strand of saliva.
Your hands grip his head so intensely, like he's the only thing keeping you tethered to this world. Eyes shut and chest rising up and down rapidly, Sabo lets you catch your breath, panting.
You feel the tremendous heat of his gaze on you as you open your eyes to meet his again. His voice is husky now, breathless with evident desire. His chest rumbles against your own as he speaks; "Still think it's not helping?"
He had you just where he wanted you, riled up and stimulated to perfection. You were so beautiful like this. It turned him on like nothing else.
He sucks on your throat, licks at the bruising skin. The heat of his words spread fire through your veins as he whispers against you. "After all, angry sex is the best sex."
Author's Note: Decided to split this up into a couple of parts, with the more sexual, explicit stuff coming soon!
Midoriseas 2025 | Do not copy or reproduce my work, or use it to train AI
Little intro piece for some Sabo smut I felt inspired to write. Because apparently, I need everything to have a plot.
Title is Fire (My Sweet Misery) by Xdinary Heroes
Part 2
Banner Images: 1, 2 and 3
Warnings: swearing, reader is mad and perhaps not the best at managing their anger, a little suggestive at the end, build up for explicit content later, the smut is inevitable
Music: Hell Above, Pass The Nirvana - Pierce The Veil, Skylines and Turnstiles - My Chemical Romance
You were mad. Inexplicably mad.
Today was a rare day you had a break. As a member of the revolutionary army, there wasn't often time for rest. So today, you had planned to do just that. And rest you had, until someone dropped off a report - newspaper attached, outside your door just in time for lunch.
You set them aside for later, glancing as you plopped them onto the tabletop.
But the first article your eyes took rest upon immediately soured your mood.
A series of "Celestial Dragon Incidents" and general destruction at the hands of the World Government, all accompanied with horrible visuals pierced your eyes and settled in your very soul.
The rage you felt towards these kinds of things were the reason you joined the army in the first place. Yet, you were still left feeling helpless when confronted with the harsh realities of your world.
Why were you taking a break? You were sitting here on a comfortable sofa, tea in hand while islands went up in flames, while people were killed simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time - the world was falling apart, for fuck's sake, and you were doing nothing.
You needed to get back to work immediately. You just needed to do something.
Fuelled by your rage at the world, you got up and immediately stormed towards the army's training facilities (making sure to slam the door behind you).
Your short journey there was uneventful, whether that be due to the limited people outside at this time of day, or because those you did encounter took one look at your clenched jaw and knew better than to say anything.
Your clenched fists brushed the rough material of your pants with each stride you took, furthering your irritation as you made quick work crossing the final path.
Upon facing the door to your favourite training room, you let out a huff and moved to turn the handle. It was locked.
Fuck me, you thought.
And since you were really not in the mood, you put your undercover training to use, yanked a pin out of your hair and jammed it into the lock. You groaned while standing there, technically breaking in with none of the precision or gentleness a well-trained spy should have.
With each passing second, your frustration grew, wiggling the pin with more and more force until the lock finally clicked and released, letting you enter the dark room.
The small room was square and cluttered with equipment, barely visible due to the lack of windows. It was stuffy and warm, but you really didn't have much left in you to care.
Stripping yourself of your outerwear, you immediately went to face the tall punching bag positioned at the farthest corner of the room.
Although it seemed childish, you took a deep breath and shut your eyes, imagining the hard, heavy cylinder before you was a physical manifestation of the world government. Because, like any good revolutionary, you really wanted to beat them up.
You don't know how much time passed as you fought there in your little corner. The dark made it easier to imaging the punching bag as different things; Celestial Dragons, higher ups of the world government - they all got a taste of your fist.
You began to pant, the anger not having worn off. Sweat trickled down your neck, under your top and down your spine. There was a salty taste on your lips, tears or sweat, you wouldn't know. With each heave of your chest your shoulderblades rose and fell, making you vaguely aware of your tired arms.
The pounding of your blood felt so loud, it matched your rage. Despite the fatigue, anger still coursed through your veins, demanding an outlet - you felt like you were going to explode.
Lost in your mental spiral, you didn't hear the door open, nor did you notice as light began to fill the room.
Light? There were no matches here to light the dingy lanterns hanging on each corner of the ceiling.
"Y/N".
Sabo stepped into the light.
As he moved towards you, the flames he had placed in the lanterns cast a fiery glow on his face. It illuminated the golden hair beneath his hat, shone upon the leather of his gloves and coat.
A silent exhale left your nostrils as you turned your back to him, hunching over. You didn't want him to come closer, because you thought you might lash out and punch him.
"Why are you in here? I thought today was your break - I came looking for you to see if we could spend the afternoon together."
You slapped a palm against the punching bag, the coarse black material sticky with your sweat.
"Wanted to train," you grunted out.
"But you deserved a break," he emphasises, really not reading the room.
You pounded your other fist against the bag. The lanterns swayed dangerously from the force.
Sabo was no idiot. In fact, he was actually rather intelligent. It was evident you were mad. But some part of him liked to see you frustrated.
He didn't know why he kept asking you those pointless questions. Perhaps he wanted to get you more riled up, stir the anger and let it bubble out of you in a loud, messy release.
Maybe the two of you were thinking along the same lines, because the room fell into a heavy silence.
You took the opportunity to take some deep breaths, before turning slowly to face the blond revolutionary.
"I'm just really fucking mad," you say with a bitter smile. "At the world. At myself. Just wanted to get the anger out somehow," you trail of with a sigh as tears begin lining your vision.
"But it didn't work," he states. Simple, matter-of-fact, relatively detached.
His statement takes you aback.
"Huh?," you sputter out.
He's stepped closer to you now, towering over your form - not that it's hard, he is quite tall.
There's a glint in Sabo's eye when his face meets yours. It contrasts with the polite smile upon his lips.
"I can help relieve it if you want."
Author's Note: Felt inspired to write smut, so hopefully this sets things up well enough for where I plan to go with it! As always, please let me know what you think!
I plan to release a few different successive parts to this first intro story. Just different scenarios I came up with of how it might go, different kinds of smut and all that.
Read Part 2
Midoriseas 2025 | Do not copy, reproduce my work, or use it to train AI
You're prone to intense cramping and back pain. Luckily, you have a personal heat pack and massuese who wants nothing more than to bring you a bit of comfort.
Banner Images: here and here
Description: Portgas Ace/Reader (No specified gender), fluff, ace is the best boy
Warnings: Reader experiences quite intense body pains, descriptions of pain and general discomfort, no named conditions, metaphors derived from my personal experiences with back pain.
Today was one of those days you just could not face. The pain was intolerable. A burning sensation spread down your neck and spine, curving and cutting into your ribs like a magma soaked scimitar. You couldnât sit, you couldnât stand. Laying down amplified the pain, but so too did walking.
You were currently sat twisted upon the couch, angling your legs and shoulders in every which way to hopefully find a position to bring you some semblance of comfort. You lean to the left and crack your neck with a deafening pop - not a nice crisp one, by any means - which only sparked a new soreness to settle in the grooves of your spine.
With your right leg splayed over to the left, you twist your chest in the opposite direction with quite a bit of aggression and somewhat alleviate the pain with another crack and short yelp.
At this point walks in Ace, blissfully unaware of your misery.
âY/N, are you alright?â
Not always the best with words, your boyfriendâs question sparks a bubble of upset within you. The agitation mixed with frustration of constant agony bubbles its way up through your strained chest to harshly lodge itself in your throat.
The glistening of your eyes instantly alerts him to your evident discomfort, and he quickly apologises.
Ace hates to see you this way. His lively, beautiful partner reduced to a writhing ball of misery. Luckily for you, Aceâs flame-flame powers arenât just good for fighting. In fact, theyâre perhaps even better suited for pain relief. A pleasure reserved for you, and you only.
âLet me help, okay?â He lifts you up with a practiced ease, gently cradling your form against himself. As always, Aceâs hands are warm where they hold you, tenderly stroking a thumb back and forth on your shoulder. The side of your upper torso is pressed against his toned stomach, his warmth already bringing you comfort.
He lays you down on your bed with all the love in the world, sealed in a tender kiss on your brow. This was the Ace you knew. Not Portgas D. Ace, fearsome commander of the Whitebeard Pirates. This was your boyfriend, your lover, who, under the layers of self-doubt and negativity, was brimming with passion and love. You were his treasure, his sun, his entire world, and heâll be damned if he let you suffer in agony any longer.
Ace looks down at you with those big, black eyes full of genuine concern and innocence. âWhere does it hurt?â
âEverywhere,â you reply. But because youâre really not in the mood for wasting anymore time, you elaborate. âMy ribs and back are the worst right now.â
âOkay,â he nods. Already beginning to focus on the warmth in his hands.
Ace is silent as he works, but you really donât mind. The heat soothes the stinging within your ribs immediately. You find comfort in his practiced movements, rough palms and gentle fingers tracing their way up and around your rib area, then gently along your sides.
In his concentration, heâs biting his lip a little. And because your brain is not now overridden with pain, you have space up there in your mind to think that itâs kind of cute.
âIs it working?â, he asks with all the innocence and doubt someone this good at alleviating your pain has no right to be asking. But itâs sweet how much he cares, really.
âYouâre doing perfect, Ace,â you smile up at him.
Upon seeing your smile, his concern fades just a fraction, glad he can bring you some kind of relief. He brings you a lot more than heâll ever know - his willingness to do this, to drop everything and focus on you makes you feel like the most special person in the world - and you are, to him.
âShould I do your back now?â He asks, breaking you from your thoughts.
âYes, please.â You go to move onto your stomach but grab his wrist before you turn. âYou can make it a lot hotter, Ace.â
His eyes betray his uncertainty as they flick between yours. But before he has a chance to respond, you continue; âYouâre not going to hurt me. I trust you wonât. And besides, sometimes a bit of pain from heat can actually help me feel better.â
You plant a quick kiss to his lips and settle on the bed.
The sharpness in your ribs has been dulled, but like some kind of poisonous cloud, it rises to torment your spine once you still. You stifle a groan against the sheets. Ace frowns in sympathy and promptly gets to work.
The heat radiates from the center of his palms. He focuses on that concentrated heat and begins to increase it. With a gentle lift of your shirt, Aceâs hands meet your skin in soft strokes. But with further encouragement, begin to train down your spine with greater force.
You melt like putty under his care. The pain dissipates by the minute, and you audibly sigh when he begins to massage your tense muscles with the heated tips of his fingers.
Ace traces shapes on your now-warm skin, mesmerised by your beauty. The feeling soothes you after the heat.
Youâre glued to your spot on the bed, too comfortable to move now. The bed sinks to your left as Ace shifts to rest beside you. He pulls your back to his chest and wraps his arms tightly around you.
The both of you are warm, content and feeling full of love. You lay there in silence for a while, simply enjoying the warm embrace of comfort and peace.
âCan we just stay like this?â you whisper.
âOf course,â he lightly replies, planting a kiss on the back of your shoulder and pulling you in tighter.
You turn in Aceâs arms and look up at him.
âYou werenât going to move anyway, were you?â
âNah.â
His eyes are bright as they look down to meet yours, black strands of hair messily framing his face. They tickle your neck a bit, but you donât mind. Not when he flashes you with that smile reserved just for you, a smile so wide it engulfs you in its warmth and love. A smile that shines brighter than a thousand suns. It heats your chest more than Aceâs flames ever could, because it came from a different kind of fire - passion. Adoration. Love
As you comfortably nestle yourself against Ace's chest, you mirror his smile and place a kiss above his heart. Itâs warm too.
Author's Note: I've been thinking about Ace a lot lately. He's such an interesting character who deserved a better life!! I want to give him the love he deserved.
A/N: lots of ideas have been mulling around in my head about this man, so I figured I'd share my thoughts with the world
Warnings: none - very fluffy
He would burn his tongue often - either simply because he's clumsy, or because he was too eager to drink something you made - even if it's as meagre as a cup of tea.
If you were cooking together, he would try the food straight after it comes out of the oven, because he wants to taste whatever it is you've made right away. He knows it'll be delicious no matter what. In his excitement, there may also be a few burnt fingers.
In the early stages of your relationship, he asks âis this okay?â every minute. He's nervous and clumsy, but it's so so endearing you can't help but smile and giggle. He'll blush, and hide his face in your neck, but laugh along with you.
As you progress towards more intimacy, he still checks in with you often, and is extremely gentle with you - whether that be while cuddling or kissing.
He loves to take care of you. Headache? He's sitting you down comfortably in his lap and massaging your head like some kind of godly masseuse. Cramps? Tired muscles? He can help with that. He quickly learns just how much pressure to put into his massages to relieve any tension or pain from your body.
He loves to hold hands. He's kind of clingy in a sense, but simple hand-holding is his favourite kind of physical contact. He canât get over how small your hand looks wrapped around his much larger one - enveloping only his pinky and ring finger.
When walking or sitting beside each other, he likes to take initiative and sneak his hand down to softly intertwine with yours.
In perhaps a more intimate scenario, he likes to envelope your smaller hand entirely with his palm. If lying down, he rests it against his heart - it comforts the both of you.
On that note, he would also be a fantastic personal heater! If your hands are cold, he scoops them up between his, softly rubbing the back of your palm and fingers to warm them up. He jokingly says the cause of the heat is his love for you. After warming you up, he would plant a kiss on each hand (something about âsealing the loveâ)
He loves to lie down in your lap. It might be a bit difficult, considering his size, but heâll compromise by sticking his legs out awkwardly. The discomfort of contorting his body into the small space on the couch is instantly made up for when he gets to rest his head in your lap.
As discussed before, he wants to hold your hand all. the. time. Depending on the circumstance (i.e. resting in your lap) he might absentmindedly fiddle with your hand, memorising their feel as his large thumb traces over every bump, curve or scar.
