One-piece stuff

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[one-pieces-things]

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Hello Starlights, I'm sorry for not posting much, I had a lot to do as homework, so I'm closing requests so I can finish all the 47 requests

Today is the last day to send a request!

[one-pieces-things]

Thank you for all your hard work and lovely stories! Can I request Marco x Reader where Reader has been spending an awful lot of time with Thatch lately and Marco is starting to get a liiittle jealous but it turns out she was just learning to bake pineapple upside down cake from Thatch which she makes as a surprise gift for Marco. :)

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗

Marco stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall as he watched you disappear into the galley with Thatch for what felt like the tenth time that day. The sound of your laughter echoing from within made his jaw tighten so much he thought his teeth might crack.

"Something's definitely going on," he muttered to himself, not realizing he'd spoken aloud until Haruta appeared beside him.

"Fancy seeing you here, on the deck," Haruta said with an exaggeratedly innocent expression. "What a coincidence, since you're the ship's doctor and all."

Marco shot them a glare. "I live here. It's not a coincidence."

"Right, right," Haruta said, already backing away slowly. "Well, I was just thinking about how the deck planks seem a bit... sassy today. They need adjusting. Very technical stuff."

Before Marco could process that nonsense, Ace appeared, practically vibrating with energy. "Marco! Perfect timing! I need your opinion on something super important!"

Marco sighed. "What is it, Ace?"

The Second Division Commander grabbed his arm, already dragging him away from the galley. "It's about this new fire technique I'm working on, but I need to test it where there's absolutely no risk of burning the ship. The deck's too crowded. Come on!"

"Ace, the deck is never too crowded," Marco said, trying to pull his arm back.

"But today it is!" Ace insisted. "The deck is giving attitude. It's all... persnickety."

"That's not a word," Marco said flatly.

"It is today!" Ace declared, already inventing nonsense. "The wood is particularly obstreperous this afternoon!"

As Marco tried to extricate himself from Ace's grip, Vista appeared from seemingly nowhere. "Actually, Marco, Whitebeard wants to see you about the next supply stop. It's urgent."

Marco's eyes narrowed. "He does? Because I just spoke with him an hour ago."

Vista sweated slightly. "Yes, well, something came up! There's been a... flibbertigibbet with the procurement forms!"

"A what?" Marco asked, incredulous.

"You know! A flibbertigibbet!" Vista insisted. "Very serious. Could cause a rumpus!"

This was getting ridiculous. Marco was about to push past them all when Jozu appeared, blocking his path with his massive diamond body.

"Marco, my friend! I've been meaning to ask you something important," Jozu said with unusual seriousness.

"What is it, Jozu?" Marco asked, already dreading the answer.

The commander leaned in conspiratorially. "How are babies made?"

Marco stared. "What?"

"You know," Jozu pressed, completely serious. "The mechanics of it. I've been wondering."

"I'm not having this conversation with you right here," Marco said, trying to sidestep.

But then Ace was back, clutching his chest dramatically. "EMERGENCY! I think I'm having a heart attack!"

Marco rolled his eyes so hard he almost gave himself a headache. "You're not having a heart attack, Ace."

"I am! Look!" Ace insisted, placing his hand firmly on his right pectoral muscle. "It hurts right here! My heart is exploding!"

"That's the wrong side of your chest, you idiot," Marco said, exasperated.

"My heart is special! It's on the right!" Ace countered with conviction.

Before Marco could respond further, you emerged from the galley, wiping flour from your cheek with the back of your hand.

"Everything okay out here?" you asked, looking at the strange tableau of commanders blocking Marco's path.

"FINE!" they all chimed in unison, looking suspiciously guilty.

You raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, instead catching Marco's eye. "Hi! Just finishing up for today. Thatch says I'm making real progress!"

"Progress with what?" Marco asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

You grinned. "You'll see soon enough!"

As you walked away, Marco turned to find every commander suddenly avoiding his gaze. The moment he stepped toward the galley, however, they sprang into action again.

"Marco! Quick question!" Ace called out, jogging to catch up with him. "If you and your lover had sex, would they lay eggs or have babies?"

Marco stopped dead in his tracks. "What is wrong with you?"

"I'm just curious!" Ace insisted. "You're part phoenix, right? So what's the deal? Do phoenix people lay eggs? And can you even have sex in your Phoenix form? Like, is that a thing?"

"That's it," Marco said, turning to walk away.

"Wait! I have more questions!" Ace called after him. "Do you go into heat? Like birds do? And do you do a mating dance? Can you show me? I bet it's really cool!"

Marco kept walking, refusing to acknowledge the increasingly ridiculous questions.

The next day, Marco decided to try a different approach. He waited until he saw you heading toward the galley alone, intercepting you before anyone could notice.

"Can we talk?" he asked, trying to sound casual rather than like he'd been stewing in jealousy for days.

"Of course!" you said with a bright smile. "What's up?"

Marco's resolve faltered at your cheerful expression. "I've just... noticed you've been spending a lot of time with Thatch lately."

Your smile dimmed slightly. "Oh. Is that okay? I know you two sometimes butt heads over kitchen stuff, but he's been really nice about teaching me."

"Teaching you what?" Marco pressed, then immediately regretted how accusatory it sounded.

You studied his face, your own expression growing concerned. "Marco, are you... jealous?"

"No!" he said too quickly. "I'm just... curious. About what's so important that it requires daily secret meetings."

"They're not secret," you said softly. "I've told you what I'm doing."

"You've been vague," Marco countered, then immediately felt childish. "And everyone's acting weird whenever I try to go near the galley."

Understanding dawned in your eyes, followed by a sigh. "Oh, Marco. Did you ever think that maybe they're trying to help me keep a surprise?"

Before he could respond, Ace's voice called out, "MARCO! EMERGENCY! I think I accidentally set my pants on fire again! ONLY YOU CAN SAVE THEM!"

Marco closed his eyes in frustration. "He's not even wearing pants that can catch fire."

You giggled. "He's wearing his trademark shorts, I know."

"I'm going to kill him," Marco muttered.

"Please don't," you said, reaching up to touch his cheek. "Just... try to be patient a little longer? I promise it's worth it."

Marco wanted to press further, but the earnest look in your eyes made him relent. "Fine. But this is getting ridiculous."

"I know," you said with a mysterious smile. "But you'll thank them later… probably."

As you continued toward the galley, Marco watched you go, feeling both frustrated and guilty. He knew he was being unreasonable, but the image of you and Thatch huddled together over some "project" kept replaying in his mind.

That evening, as Marco sat in his office reviewing medical inventory, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, not looking up.

The door opened and closed softly. "I have something for you."

Marco's head snapped up at the sound of your voice. You stood before him holding a covered cake plate, a nervous but hopeful expression on your face.

"What's this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral.

"I made you something," you said, setting the plate on his desk and lifting the cover.

Marco stared at the golden cake with its rings of pineapple and maraschino cherries. The sweet aroma filled his office, reminding him of the scent that had been following you lately.

"Pineapple upside down cake," you explained, twisting your hands nervously. "Thatch has been teaching me how to bake. I know it's your favorite, and I wanted to make something special for you. For us."

Marco's eyes widened as understanding dawned. All those secret meetings, the flour on your clothes, the ridiculous interventions from his fellow commanders—it had nothing to do with what he'd been imagining. You'd been learning to bake his favorite cake as a surprise for him.

"I..." He cleared his throat, feeling foolish. "I thought..."

You stepped closer, reaching for his hand. "What did you think?"

He met your gaze, seeing the hurt and confusion there. "I thought you and Thatch..."

Understanding dawned in your eyes, followed by a soft laugh. "Oh, Marco. Thatch has been helping me because I wanted to surprise you. He's been nothing but professional, I promise. He actually gave me a lecture about making sure I appreciate what I have at home."

Marco squeezed your hand, relief washing over him so strongly it nearly buckled his knees. "I'm an idiot."

"No," you said, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "You're a man who cares. But next time, just ask me, okay?"

He nodded, pulling you into a proper embrace. "Next time, I will."

When you separated, you cut a slice of the cake and offered it to him. Marco took a bite, his eyes closing as the perfect balance of sweet and tangy flavors melted on his tongue.

"It's perfect," he said honestly. "Better than Thatch's version, even."

You beamed with pride. "Really?"

"Really, but don't tell him, he would make a scene out of it" Marco confirmed, setting down the plate and wrapping his arms around your waist. "But you know what's even sweeter than this cake?"

"What?" you asked, leaning into his embrace.

"Knowing that all this time, you were thinking of me."

As he leaned in to kiss you properly, the office door burst open and Ace stumbled in, followed by several curious commanders who had apparently been listening outside.

"IS EVERYTHING OKAY IN HERE? WE HEARD... uh... cake-related sounds!" Ace announced, then froze at the sight of you two in an embrace.

Thatch peeked in over Ace's shoulder. "Did you give it to him? Is it good?"

Marco sighed against your lips, but couldn't help smiling. "Yes, they gave it to me. And yes, it's perfect."

"HA! I TOLD YOU MY TEACHING SKILLS ARE UNMATCHED!" Thatch cheered.

"Actually," you said with a mischievous grin, "I changed your recipe a little. Marco likes more cinnamon."

Thatch's jaw dropped as the other commanders erupted into laughter. Marco pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'm still going to get you all back for the ridiculous excuses," he said, but there was no heat in his voice.

"Bring it on, Doctor Man!" Ace challenged with a grin. "But first, can we have some of that cake?"

Before Marco could respond, Ace was already eyeing the dessert with undisguised interest. "So, now that we know it's just cake, can you answer my questions? About the eggs and babies? And the heat thing? I'm still really curious about the mating dance!"

Marco's eye twitched as he turned to face the freckled commander. "There is no mating dance, Ace."

"But what if there is and you just don't know it?" Ace pressed. "Like, what if it's instinctual and you need to be around the right person to trigger it? Is your dear lovely partner triggering your phoenix instincts?"

"I'm going to trigger your face if you don't shut up," Marco muttered, but there was no real threat in his voice.

You giggled, cutting another slice of cake. "Would anyone like some pineapple upside down cake? There's plenty to go around."

The commanders descended on the cake like vultures, all talking at once about how they'd helped keep the surprise and how they totally knew what was going on the whole time.

"Totally knew," Haruta insisted through a mouthful of cake. "I was just playing along to make it more dramatic."

"The deck really was giving attitude that day," Vista added solemnly. "I wasn't making that up."

Marco watched them all, shaking his head in amusement. As much as he wanted to be annoyed at their meddling, he couldn't help but feel grateful for such ridiculous friends who cared enough to help you keep a secret just to surprise him.

Later that night, after the cake had been devoured and the commanders had finally dispersed, you curled up beside Marco on the small sofa in his office.

"So," you said softly, tracing patterns on his chest, "no mating dance, huh?"

Marco chuckled, pulling you closer. "Definitely no mating dance. Though I suppose I could be persuaded to do a little something if you're interested."

"I might be," you murmured against his neck. "But only if it involves less clothing and more privacy."

"I think that can be arranged," Marco said, already leaning in to kiss you again.

As his lips met yours, Marco decided that pineapple upside down cake was officially his new favorite dessert, and that maybe—just maybe—he owed his ridiculous friends a thank you for being so terrible at keeping secrets.

[one-pieces-things]

I really enjoy your writing! If possible, Could i have Ace, Marco, and Beckman with...reader flirting with them but theyre oblivious til someone points it out and theyre so embarrassed that they knock on their door with a little gift and express their feelings for reader?

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚌𝚎, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘, 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝔸𝕔𝕖

Your attempts to flirt with Ace had been about as subtle as a cannonball, yet somehow completely missed by the Second Division Commander. For weeks, you'd been finding excuses to touch his arm, bringing him his favorite sake "by coincidence," and complimenting his freckles with enough enthusiasm to make a marine blush.

Ace, bless his innocent heart, just thought you were being exceptionally friendly. He'd grin that wide, infectious smile and say things like, "You're the best,! Always looking out for me!" while completely missing the hearts practically shooting from your eyes.

It wasn't until Thatch cornered him one evening, smacking him upside the head. "Are you dense or just pretending? That person has been throwing themselves at you for a month! They look at you like you're the last meat on the island during a famine!"

Ace just blinked. "What? No way! [Name]'s just super nice to everyone. They brought Haruta that pudding last week too, see? They're just a good person."

Thatch facepalmed so hard it echoed across the deck. "Ace, they don't stare at Haruta's freckles like they want to kiss them off. They don't 'accidentally' fall into Marco's lap every time the ship rocks. They don't make Vista's favorite food every single day!"

Still confused, Ace sought out Vista the next day. "Hey, you're good with this stuff, right? Thatch thinks they like me, but that can't be right, can it?"

Vista sighed dramatically. "My dear boy, they've been trying to get your attention since they joined this crew. Remember when they 'tripped' and their hands ended up on your chest for a solid thirty seconds? Or when they 'accidentally' walked in on you changing? Or when they—"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Ace interrupted, still not quite convinced. "But that's just... friendly stuff, right?"

By the time he asked Izo, the commander was ready to throw him overboard. "Ace, if you don't make a move on them soon, I'm going to lock you both in a storage closet until you figure it out! They've been flirting with you so obviously that even Whitebeard commented on it!"

Finally, it was Whitebeard himself who sealed the deal. "Ace," he'd rumbled during dinner that night, "that person has been trying to court you for weeks. Either respond or let them down gently. This suspense is giving me indigestion."

Ace's eyes widened as four different people's words suddenly clicked into place. All those "coincidental" meetings, all those compliments, all those lingering touches... suddenly made sense. His face burned brighter than his Devil Fruit powers, and he spent the next hour hiding in his room, too embarrassed to face anyone.

That night, there was a frantic, almost desperate knock on your door. When you opened it, Ace stood there, holding a small, slightly charred wooden box he'd clearly made himself. Inside was a single perfect flame-shaped flower preserved in resin.

"I... uh... so everyone thinks you like me," he blurted out, his words tumbling over each other. "Like, Thatch, and Vista, and Izo, and even Pops! And I was like, no way, but then I thought about it, and you do touch me a lot, and you bring me food, and you look at me sometimes and I get really warm inside, and—"

He took a deep breath, finally looking at you with those earnest dark eyes. "Do you like me? Because if you do, that would be... really great. Because I think I like you too. A lot. More than meat, even."

When you laughed and pulled him inside, his face was still red, but this time it was accompanied by the widest, most genuine smile you'd ever seen.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕠

Flirting with Marco had been an exercise in patience. The First Division Commander was so focused on his duties and caring for Whitebeard that personal matters seemed to fly right over his head. You'd tried everything—bringing him medical supplies when he didn't need them, "accidentally" brushing against him, even wearing your most revealing outfits around him.

Marco would just smile gratefully and say things like, "How thoughtful of you. You're always so helpful to the crew," or "You should be careful, you might catch a chill in that outfit," completely oblivious to your intentions.

It was Izo who finally snapped during a division commanders' meeting. "Marco, for the love of the seas, are you blind? They're been trying to get into your pants for weeks! They practically strip down to nothing when you enter a room!"

Marco's blue eyes widened behind his glasses, and a faint blush colored his cheeks. He excused himself immediately and retreated to his office, where he spent the rest of the day going through every interaction he'd had with you in recent weeks. The pieces slowly fell into place, and with each realization, his embarrassment grew.

That evening, there was a soft knock at your door. Marco stood there, looking uncharacteristically flustered, holding a small blue feather—one of his own, perfectly preserved and attached to a silver chain.

"I seem to have been... remiss in noticing certain things," he began, his usual composed demeanor slightly shaken. "Izo pointed out that your... attentions... might be of a romantic nature. If that's the case... I find myself returning those sentiments. Quite strongly, in fact."

When you invited him in, he finally relaxed, and the Phoenix revealed a warmth that had nothing to do with his Devil Fruit powers.

Just as Marco was leaning in for what would have been your first kiss, the door swung open and Thatch poked his head in. "Hey Marco, have you seen my—oh! Well, well, well! Look what we have here!" He grinned wickedly. "Don't get her pregnant yet, Marco! Save some fun for the rest of us!"

Marco's face turned bright red as he turned to glare at the interruption. "Thatch, get out of here before I turn you into medical supplies myself."

But you were already laughing, pulling Marco closer despite the interruption. "We can continue this later," you whispered, making him blush even more.

𝔹𝕖𝕔𝕜𝕞𝕒𝕟

Flirting with Beckman was like trying to crack a safe with a feather—he was observant about everything except your obvious interest. The First Mate was so focused on protecting the crew and managing Shanks's chaos that your attempts at romance barely registered.

You'd tried sitting closer to him than necessary, bringing him his favorite brand of cigarettes, even "accidentally" falling into his arms during rough seas. Beckman would just steady you with a small smile and say, "Careful there," or "Thanks, I was running low," completely missing your pounding heart and flushed cheeks.

It was Shanks who finally broke it to him, after watching you practically eye-fuck Beckman across the deck for the tenth time in one day. "Beckman, my friend, I know you're focused on keeping us all alive, but even you can't be that dense. Our dear lovefool wants to jump in your arms. Badly."

Beckman's normally calm expression faltered as he processed this information. He looked over at you, really looked this time, and noticed the way you were biting your lip, the way your eyes kept darting to him, the slight blush on your cheeks. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Later that night, there was a firm knock on your door. Beckman stood there, looking slightly less composed than usual, holding a small wrapped package. Inside was a beautifully carved wooden hairpin, shaped like a rifle bullet.

"I've been told I'm an idiot," he said bluntly, making you laugh. "And I'm beginning to think that assessment is accurate. I've been so focused on other things that I missed something important—your feelings. And mine, it turns out."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping slightly. "I like you sweetie. More than I should, probably. And if you're still interested after my spectacular obliviousness... I'd like to see where this might go."

When you pulled him inside by his shirt collar, Beckman's rare, genuine smile was all the answer you needed.

[one-pieces-things]

I think like making it like freshwater aquarium themed would be cute! Bc ammonia is used as like a filter to make a sustainable environment

I literally love you

You just saved me thanks so much I really appreciate it, thanks 💞

[one-pieces-things]

I need a little help with a science project

So, for my science project I need to do the ammonia rock, I have a white billboard, I don't know how to make it aesthetically pleasing, I was thinking to make the writes red but I have no idea, whoever wins the competition for the best project gets a 10, I really don't know how to make it less boring, so if you have any ideas please sent it, thanks love you Starlights

[one-pieces-things]

I've been seeing these things where it's "who fell first, and who fell harder" for one piece characters, and the blurbs would go into the reasoning for the choices, if you could do one of those please? the only stipulation I have is it has to include brook, cause he's my favorite, after him you could add whoever you'd like!

Ofc, I've placed a lot of characters, so there are for any taster from admirals, to warlords, yonko and yonko's sons, pirates etc over 50 different characters

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝? 𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛?

Brook:

Who fell first: Brook

Who fell harder: Brook

After decades of loneliness, Brook fell instantly when you showed him genuine kindness despite his skeletal appearance. His soul was already yours before he even realized it. He fell harder because to him, you're not just another love—you're the melody that completes his lonely symphony, the reason his soul finally feels at peace after so many years of isolation.

Luffy:

Who fell first: Luffy

Who fell harder: Reader

Luffy fell first because he simply decided you were his friend without overthinking it—typical Luffy fashion. You fell harder because you had to navigate the complexities of loving someone whose first love will always be adventure and freedom, making your affection more challenging and therefore more intense.

Sanji:

Who fell first: Sanji

Who fell harder: Sanji

Sanji falls in love with anyone who shows him a shred of kindness, so he was smitten instantly. But he fell harder because you saw past his womanizing ways to the loyal, wounded man beneath, making his devotion to you eclipse his usual flirtations.

Zoro:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Zoro

You fell first, recognizing the honor beneath Zoro's rough exterior. Zoro fell harder because once he finally acknowledged his feelings, his loyalty became absolute—he'd follow you to the ends of the earth and challenge any god who tried to keep you apart.

Law:

Who fell first: Law

Who fell harder: Reader

Law fell first but kept it hidden beneath layers of tactical analysis and emotional distance. You fell harder because when he finally let you past his walls, the depth of his carefully guarded affection overwhelmed you completely.

Marco:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Marco

You fell first, drawn to Marco's quiet strength and the weight of responsibility he carries. He fell harder because after centuries of serving others, finding someone who wants to care for him instead was a revelation that shattered his carefully constructed composure.

Ace:

Who fell first: Ace

Who fell harder: Reader

Ace fell first, wearing his heart openly as he does everything else. You fell harder because loving someone so determined to outrun his past meant loving all his broken pieces, which somehow made your affection more profound.

Mihawk:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Mihawk

You fell first, intrigued by the solitude of the world's greatest swordsman. He fell harder because your interest wasn't in his title but in the man beneath it, a distinction that unnerved and ultimately captivated him completely.

Shanks:

Who fell first: Shanks

Who fell harder: Reader

Shanks fell first, charmed by your spirit during a casual tavern encounter. You fell harder because discovering that the carefree emperor would drop everything for your safety made you realize the depth of his devotion.

Doflamingo:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Doflamingo

You fell first, seeing vulnerability beneath his cruelty. He fell harder because your compassion was a weakness he couldn't eliminate, eventually becoming an obsession that rivaled his lust for power.

Crocodile:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Crocodile

You fell first, recognizing the wounded man beneath the cynical exterior. He fell harder because your persistence in seeing good in him cracked foundations he'd spent decades building.

Whitebeard:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Whitebeard

You fell first, seeing the father beneath the pirate lord. He fell harder because after decades of being a symbol, being wanted simply as a man was something he never knew he needed.

Katakuri:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Katakuri

You fell first, glimpsing the man behind the perfect facade. He fell harder because you accepted his imperfections without judgment, allowing him to be himself for the first time since childhood.

Kaido:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Kaido

You fell first, seeing the pain beneath his nihilism. He fell harder because your belief that he could find happiness was more terrifying than any enemy he'd ever faced—and more compelling.

Beckman:

Who fell first: Beckman

Who fell harder: Reader

Beckman fell first, recognizing your strength immediately. You fell harder because discovering the depth of his quiet devotion was like finding an anchor in the chaotic world of pirates.

Franky:

Who fell first: Franky

Who fell harder: Reader

Franky fell first with his usual theatrical flair, but you fell harder when you realized beneath the showmanship was a man who would rebuild his entire world just to make you smile.

Jimbei:

Who fell first: Jimbei

Who fell harder: Reader

Jimbei fell first, respecting your character above all else. You fell harder because his unwavering honor in a dishonorable world made you realize how rare such devotion truly is.

Rayleigh:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Rayleigh

You fell first, drawn to his wisdom and the history in his eyes. He fell harder because after living as a legend, being wanted simply for the man he is today touched something he thought had long turned to stone.

Paulie:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Paulie

You fell first, charmed by his old-fashioned manners and the passion he poured into his work. Paulie fell harder because you saw past his debt obsession to the loyal man beneath, making him protective in a way that surprised even himself.

Usopp:

Who fell first: Usopp

Who fell harder: Reader

Usopp fell first, crafting elaborate stories just to impress you. You fell harder when you realized his lies came from a place of wanting to be worthy, making you want to protect the brave heart beneath his insecurities.

Thatch:

Who fell first: Thatch

Who fell harder: Reader

Thatch fell first, his natural charm immediately drawn to your warmth. You fell harder when you discovered that beneath his easygoing exterior was someone who genuinely cared about making others happy, especially you.

Vista:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Vista

You fell first, admiring his elegance in battle and the kindness in his eyes. He fell harder because you appreciated his artistry and the gentleman he was, not just the division commander everyone else saw.

Izo:

Who fell first: Izo

Who fell harder: Reader

Izo fell first, his refined nature immediately drawn to your grace. You fell harder when you realized he offered you a sanctuary from the pirate world, a place where you could both be yourselves without pretense.

Bon Clay:

Who fell first: Bon Clay

Who fell harder: Reader

Bon Clay fell first with a dramatic declaration of friendship and love. You fell harder when you discovered his loyalty was absolute—he'd face down any enemy, defy any odds, all for the sake of the bonds he cherished, especially with you.

X Drake:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: X Drake

You fell first, intrigued by his intelligence and the mystery surrounding him. He fell harder because you accepted his dual nature without question, making him want to be worthy of the trust you so freely offered.

Koby:

Who fell first: Koby

Who fell harder: Reader

Koby fell first, his earnest nature immediately drawn to your kindness. You fell harder when you realized his determination to do good was genuine, making you want to protect that purity in a corrupt world.

Smoker:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Smoker

You fell first, seeing the justice beneath his gruff exterior. He fell harder because you didn't try to change him, instead understanding that his roughness was a shield for a deeply principled man.

Kizaru:

Who fell first: Kizaru

Who fell harder: Reader

Kizaru fell first with his casual, almost detached interest. You fell harder when you realized his apparent indifference was a defense mechanism, and that beneath his lazy demeanor was someone who cared more deeply than he let on.

Fujitora:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Fujitora

You fell first, drawn to his wisdom and the justice he sought. He fell harder because you saw him as a man, not just an admiral, making him want to live up to the faith you placed in him.

Akainu:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Akainu

You fell first, seeing the conviction beneath his extremism. He fell harder because your compassion didn't threaten his beliefs but instead made him question whether justice and mercy could coexist.

Aokiji:

Who fell first: Aokiji

Who fell harder: Reader

Aokiji fell first with his lazy interest that slowly became genuine affection. You fell harder when you realized his casualness masked a deep sense of justice that had been worn down by years of compromise.

Kuma:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Kuma

You fell first, sensing the tragedy beneath his mechanical exterior. He fell harder because you saw the man still trapped inside, making him want to protect you even when he thought he could no longer feel anything.

Kinemon:

Who fell first: Kinemon

Who fell harder: Reader

Kinemon fell first with his formal samurai courtship. You fell harder when you realized beneath his traditional exterior was someone who would defy even death itself to keep his promises, especially to you.

Oden:

Who fell first: Oden

Who fell harder: Reader

Oden fell first with his characteristic boldness and enthusiasm. You fell harder when you realized his larger-than-life personality hid a deep capacity for love that made you feel like the most important person in the world.

Ichiji:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Ichiji

You fell first, seeing the man beneath the "sparkling red" exterior. He fell harder because you didn't fear him or his family, instead treating him as an equal, which was something he'd never experienced.

Niji:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Niji

You fell first, recognizing the pain beneath his anger. He fell harder because your kindness wasn't weakness but strength, making him want to be worthy of the compassion you so freely offered.

Yonji:

Who fell first: Yonji

Who fell harder: Reader

Yonji fell first with his cocky confidence that slowly became genuine affection. You fell harder when you realized his competitiveness was a cry for attention, and that beneath the tough exterior was someone desperate to be seen.

Perospero:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Perospero

You fell first, seeing the artist beneath the sadism. He fell harder because you appreciated his craftsmanship rather than fearing his power, making him want to create things that would make you smile rather than just terrorize his enemies.

Cracker:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Cracker

You fell first, seeing the insecurity beneath his bravado. He fell harder because you weren't impressed by his power or his puppets, but by the man himself, making him vulnerable in a way that terrified and exhilarated him.

Oven:

Who fell first: Oven

Who fell harder: Reader

Oven fell first with his aggressive pursuit that slowly became protective. You fell harder when you realized his ferocity was always aimed at protecting his family, and that he'd added you to that circle without hesitation.

Daifuku:

Who fell first: Daifuku

Who fell harder: Reader

Daifuku fell first with his gruff interest that slowly became possessive. You fell harder when you realized his temper was a shield for a deeply loyal man who would destroy anyone who threatened what he considered his.

King:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: King

You fell first, sensing the loneliness beneath his stoicism. He fell harder because you saw him as more than just Kaido's right hand, making him question a lifetime of loyalty for the first time.

Queen:

Who fell first: Queen

Who fell harder: Reader

Queen fell first with his flamboyant pursuit that slowly became genuine. You fell harder when you realized beneath the showmanship was someone desperate for acceptance, making you want to give him the validation he'd never received.

Jack:

Who fell first: Jack

Who fell harder: Reader

Jack fell first with his brutal straightforwardness. You fell harder when you realized his destructiveness came from a place of loyalty so absolute it bordered on fanaticism, and that he'd transfer that same devotion to you without question.

Gecko Moria:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Moria

You fell first, seeing the broken man beneath the arrogance. He fell harder because you weren't afraid of his darkness but instead wanted to understand it, making him want to let you into a world he'd kept closed for decades.

Hawkins:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Hawkins

You fell first, intrigued by his mysterious nature. He fell harder because you weren't interested in his fortunes or predictions but in the man himself, making him question a lifetime of trusting fate over people.

Loki:

Who fell first: Loki

Who fell harder: Reader

Loki fell first with his god-sized ego and confidence. You fell harder when you realized beneath the arrogance was someone desperate for genuine connection, making you want to see the (childish in my opinion) man rather than just the "Sun God."

Lucci:

Who fell first: Reader

Who fell harder: Lucci

You fell first, sensing the complex man beneath the cold-blooded assassin. Lucci fell harder because your unwavering presence in his life became a variable his logic couldn't compute, slowly dismantling the emotional walls he'd spent a lifetime building until he found himself wanting to protect you more than any government secret.

Buggy:

Who fell first: Buggy

Who fell harder: Reader

Buggy fell first, immediately captivated by anyone who showed him genuine admiration without fear. You fell harder when you discovered that beneath his blustering ego was someone deeply insecure, making your affection feel less like a choice and more like a necessary mission to show him his true worth.

Fukaboshi:

Who fell first: Fukaboshi

Who fell harder: Reader

Fukaboshi fell first, drawn to your wisdom and the kindness you showed his people. You fell harder when you realized this prince carried the weight of his kingdom on his shoulders with such grace, making you want to share that burden even if just for a moment.

[one-pieces-things]

hey pookie, it’s been a while! i wanted to request some Sanji fluff with a fem!reader, if that’s okay. i’m really in the mood for something soft like cuddling and kissing but feel free to add anything else you want and surprise me. i just want some sweet fluff with my favorite man 🫶🏼

Guess who's back? Back again, me!!!! Sorry for not posting much, busy with exams, well ofc, I hope you enjoy, I've made two versions of this

𝙰 𝙼𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚔

First version:

The sun was setting over the Thousand Sunny, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink that mirrored the warmth spreading through your chest as Sanji's arms wrapped around you from behind. You had been leaning against the railing, watching the waves, when he approached with that gentle smile that always made your heart flutter.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured against your ear, his chin resting on your shoulder. "But not as beautiful as you."

You giggled, turning slightly in his embrace. "That's the cheesiest line I've heard all day, Sanji."

"Only the best for my lady," he replied, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. His hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as he nuzzled into your neck. "I've been wanting to do this all day, but someone kept requesting snacks every ten minutes."

You both glanced toward the deck where Luffy was currently trying to balance a barrel on his head while Zoro pretended to nap nearby, though you could see one eye cracked open watching the chaos.

"They're something else," you sighed, leaning back against Sanji's chest.

"They can wait," Sanji whispered, turning you to face him fully. His eyes sparkled with affection as he cupped your face in his hands. "I need a moment with my favorite person in the world."

His lips met yours in a tender kiss that started soft but deepened as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, the salty breeze, and the gentle rocking of the ship. Sanji's fingers tangled in your hair as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss further.

When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you," he said softly, words he reserved only for you.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

"GROUP HUG!"

Before you could react, Luffy had launched himself at both of you, nearly knocking Sanji over as he squeezed you both in his rubbery embrace. "Sanji was being all lovey-dovey again! It was so cool!"

"Luffy, you idiot!" Sanji growled, trying to extract himself without letting go of you. "Can't you see we were having a moment?"

"But moments are for sharing!" Luffy grinned, completely oblivious to Sanji's irritation.

From nearby, Zoro opened both eyes, sitting up with a yawn. "If you're going to be loud, take it somewhere else. Some of us are trying to sleep."

"You weren't sleeping, you were watching us," you accused with a smile.

Zoro's ears turned slightly pink. "Was not. Just resting my eyes."

Sanji sighed dramatically, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. "Fine, if you all insist on ruining our romantic evening, how about I make everyone a special dessert? Only if you promise to leave us alone afterward."

"MEAT!" Luffy cheered, immediately distracted.

"Is it going to be something sweet?" Zoro asked, trying to sound casual but clearly interested.

"Only the best," Sanji promised, giving you a quick wink. "But first..."

He leaned in, stealing another kiss before Luffy could drag him toward the kitchen. "I'll find you later," he whispered against your lips. "We'll continue where we left off."

As you watched him walk away with Luffy bouncing beside him and Zoro trailing behind with poorly concealed interest, you touched your lips, still tingling from his kiss. The evening wasn't going exactly as planned, but with this crew, it never did. And somehow, that made these quiet moments with Sanji even more precious.

Later that night, after everyone had eaten their fill and retreated to their rooms, Sanji found you on the observation deck, stargazing. He approached quietly, wrapping a blanket around both of you as he settled behind you, pulling you into his arms.

"They finally asleep?" you asked, leaning back against him.

"Or at least pretending to be," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?"

You turned in his arms, facing him with a smile. "I believe you were about to tell me how much you love me again."

"Ah yes," he grinned, his hand coming up to caress your cheek. "I love you more than all the spices in my kitchen, more than the perfect wine pairing, more than—"

You cut him off with a kiss, pouring all your affection into it. When you parted, he looked slightly dazed.

"I love you too, Sanji," you whispered, resting your head on his chest as you both watched the stars. "More than anything."

His arms tightened around you, and for a long while, you just stayed like that, wrapped in each other's warmth with the endless sea stretching out before you. These were the moments you cherished most—the quiet ones, away from the chaos and adventure, when it was just the two of you, bound by a love as vast and deep as the ocean itself.

---------------------------------------------------

Second version:

The first light of dawn had just begun to creep over the horizon when you stirred in Sanji's arms. The deck was still quiet, save for the gentle lapping of waves against the hull and the distant cry of a seagull. Sanji's arms tightened around you instinctively as you shifted, pulling you closer against his chest.

"Mmm, don't move yet," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. "Five more minutes with my favorite person."

You smiled, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Someone's going to wake up soon and find us here."

"Let them," Sanji replied, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "I've nothing to hide. Besides, I think I'd enjoy seeing the look on the moss-head's face when he realizes I've won your heart."

You laughed softly. "You're terrible."

"Only when it comes to you," he admitted, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now."

"What's that?"

Sanji shifted so he could look directly at you, his blue eyes serious yet soft. "Every time you walk into the kitchen, my heart does this ridiculous thing where it forgets how to beat properly. And when you laugh... well, that's when I really lose my composure."

Your cheeks warmed at his confession. "I had no idea." You sarcastically said

"Of course not," he chuckled. "I'm a professional at hiding my true feelings behind a charming smile and a well-timed compliment. But with you... I find myself wanting to be genuine."

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb stroking his skin. "Sanji, you don't always have to perform for me. I like the real you—the one who gets flustered when someone genuinely compliments him back, the one who hums while he cooks, the one who secretly saves the best desserts for the people he cares about."

He blinked, momentarily speechless. "How did you—"

"I pay attention," you replied simply. "Just like you do with everyone else."

Sanji's expression softened into something vulnerable and raw. "I'm not used to being seen so clearly."

"Then get used to it," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him gently.

The kiss deepened naturally, Sanji's hand moving to the back of your neck to hold you closer. When you finally parted, both slightly breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

"I was planning this perfect confession," he admitted with a small laugh. "Candlelight dinner, your favorite wine, a dessert I spent days perfecting... but here we are on the deck at dawn, and I've never felt more certain of anything in my life."

"Sometimes the best moments aren't planned," you replied.

"True," he agreed. "But I still plan to make you that dinner. And that dessert. And breakfast, lunch, and dinner for as long as you'll let me."

"Is that your way of asking me out, Sanji?" you teased gently.

"It's my way of asking if you'll let me love you properly," he corrected, his voice sincere. "With flowers and poetry and ridiculously elaborate meals, but also with quiet moments like this, where it's just us against the world."

Your heart swelled at his words. "I'd like that very much."

Sanji's face lit up with a smile that reached his eyes, making them sparkle even in the dim morning light. "You've just made me the happiest man on the Grand Line."

As if on cue, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Quickly, you both sat up, though Sanji kept his arm around you.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" came Franky's booming voice. "The lovebirds having a morning rendezvous?"

Sanji stood immediately, striking a pose. "Franky! Just admiring the beautiful sunrise with an even more beautiful companion!"

You rolled your eyes playfully at his dramatics as Franky laughed. "Right. Just make sure you're both presentable before the others wake up. Some of us aren't as enlightened about romance."

"We'll be there for breakfast," Sanji promised, his hand finding yours again. "I have something special planned today."

Franky winked at you both before continuing on his way, leaving you alone with Sanji once more.

"Something special?" you asked curiously.

"For you," he clarified, lifting your hand to his lips. "But first, I should probably start breakfast before Luffy tries to 'help' in the kitchen again."

As he turned to leave, you called after him, "Sanji?"

He paused, looking back at you. "Yes, my love?"

"Thank you for being you."

The genuine smile that graced his lips was worth more than any treasure. "And thank you for seeing me."

[one-pieces-things]

hihihi!! I admire your work a ton so I was wondering if you could do a comfort thingy for a reader who just.. can’t stand loud noises (definitely from a trauma response). personally i get shaken up and my head starts to hurt even after a simple yell so maybe you could make a premise off of that??

I’d like Shanks, Doffy, Crocodile or Mihawk please!! (If you don’t feel like doing all four, you could just cut it down to Shanks, Doffy, and Croc)

yours truly, 🧊🍵 anon (iced tea)

Of course starlight, I'm sorry for your head dear ❤️

𝙳𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚢, 𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝙼𝚒𝚑𝚊𝚠𝚔, 𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍 𝚗𝚘𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜

𝔻𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕪

A subordinate stammers out a report, his voice cracking with nervousness. The sound isn't even loud, but the sharp, panicked edge of it makes your breath catch. A familiar spike of pain lances through your head, and you flinch, curling in on yourself on the velvet chaise.

Before you can even process the sound, a large body is blocking out the light. Doflamingo looms over you, his shadow a welcome shield. He kneels, bringing his face level with yours. His long fingers gently cup your jaw, tilting your head up.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice a low, intimate purr that vibrates through you. "Don't listen to that worthless trash. Listen to me. Only me." His thumb strokes your cheekbone, a touch that is both possessive and incredibly tender. "They are nothing but background noise. You... you are the only sound that matters in my world. The only melody."

He leans closer, his forehead resting against yours. "Let that pathetic noise fade away. Can you feel me? This is real. This is us. I will burn down anything that dares to hurt you, that dares to make you look like this." He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, right where the pain is throbbing. "My sweet, fragile thing. You're safe. I'm here. Just breathe with me. In... and out. That's it. Just focus on the sound of my voice. I love you more than this entire wretched world, and I will not let it break you."

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤

A burst of explosive laughter from the crew erupts on the deck, and it's too much. It's too happy, too loud, too everything. You press your hands over your ears, but it's too late. The world spins, and a sickening headache blooms behind your eyes. You stumble back, away from the railing.

A warm, steady arm is instantly around your waist, pulling you securely against a broad chest. Shanks. He doesn't say anything at first, just holds you, his chin resting on the top of your head. He sways gently, a slow, rhythmic motion like the sea itself.

"Hey," he finally murmurs, his voice a soft rumble you feel more than hear. "I've got you. Just close your eyes." He takes your hands from your ears and laces his fingers through yours, bringing your joined hands to rest over his heart. "Feel that? Steady as the tide. That's for you. Just for you."

He presses a kiss into your hair. "I'm sorry, my love. I forget sometimes how loud we can be. Let's find our own quiet, hm?" He starts walking, slowly leading you away from the party and towards the stern of the ship, where the night is quieter. "You know, when I'm out here, all I can think about is coming back to you. You're my anchor, my true north. The loudest, most rowdy party means nothing if I can't share the quiet with you afterwards. Let me be your quiet right now. Let me hold you until the world feels soft again."

𝕄𝕚𝕙𝕒𝕨𝕜

The sharp scrape of a chair leg against the stone floor in the dining hall makes you jump. It's an insignificant sound, but it sends a jolt of pure agony through your skull. You drop your fork with a clatter that only makes it worse, and you squeeze your eyes shut, your head in your hands.

A moment later, a cool, gloved hand is covering yours. Mihawk. He gently pries your hands from your face, his touch infinitely careful. He doesn't speak, just looks at you, his golden eyes soft with an understanding that still takes your breath away. He takes your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"Breathe," he says, his voice the quietest, most controlled whisper. It's not a request, but a gentle instruction. "Focus on me. Ignore the rest. It is meaningless." He leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, a kiss that is both a blessing and a benediction. "Your peace is more valuable than any meal, any conversation. I would silence the world for you if I could."

He pulls his chair closer, his knee pressing against yours, a constant, grounding point of contact. "I am not a man of many words, you know this. But my heart... it speaks volumes when it comes to you. It is a fortress, and you are its most treasured resident. Let me be your fortress now. Let my presence be the silence you need. I love you. That is all you need to know. The rest is just noise."

ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕝𝕖

He's on the transponder snail, his voice a low growl of fury. "You have one hour to get my money, or I'll feed you to your own crew." The sheer venom in his tone, even at a low volume, makes you flinch hard. Your head pounds, and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold the pieces together.

He slams the connection shut, and the silence that follows is almost as loud. He turns, and his sharp eyes immediately find you, seeing the tremor in your hands. The hard lines of his face soften, just slightly. He crosses the room in his long, predatory stride and sinks onto the sofa next to you, pulling you onto his lap.

"Come here," he rumbles, his voice losing its sharp edge, becoming a deep, gravelly hum. He wraps his arms around you, one hand tangling in your hair while the other rests on your back, his hook carefully angled away. "That wasn't for you. Never for you."

He presses his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "Sometimes I forget," he murmurs, his voice muffled. "I forget how delicate you are. Not weak. Never weak. Just... precious. Something to be protected." He pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb tracing your jawline. "Listen to me. This business, this empire... it's all just a means to an end. And the end is you. It's always been you. I would trade all of it for one moment of your peace. Let me give you that. Let me hold you until the noise in your head is just the sound of my heart beating for you."

[one-pieces-things]

Happy birthday hun!!!

Thanksss love you so muccccchhhhhhhhhh 💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

[one-pieces-things]

Happy birthday you gorgeous being!!

Thanks you so much, you don't know how happy I am right know just reading this!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🤌🏻

[one-pieces-things]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 💗💗💗

Thank you so much 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[one-pieces-things]

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚒𝚎𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚢

Hello Starlights, guess what? IT'S MY BIRTHDAY! so this is a special Fanfiction, i tried to add as many characters as I remembered, so I hope I added everything

The Grand Romantics (Extravagant & Devoted)

Doflamingo: He'd have the entire island decorated with flamingo-pink banners and your name written in the sky. He'd sweep you into his arms, his grin wicked as he murmurs, "Fufufu... today, the world kneels for you, my queen. But tonight, you only kneel for me." His gift is a diamond choker so extravagant it's almost a leash, a glittering reminder of who you belong to.

Sanji: The day begins with breakfast in bed and a thousand kisses on your hands. He'd serenade you with love songs while cooking a 10-course meal where each dish is a metaphor for his love. "My sweet angel, every bite is a piece of my soul I offer to you!" His gift is a stunning evening gown or suit and two tickets to a romantic paradise, because you deserve nothing less than a fairytale.

Cavendish: He'd wake you with a poem he wrote just for you, his voice dripping with adoration. "My dearest, the sun itself is jealous of your radiance today!" He'd parade you through the streets on his white stallion, declaring a city-wide holiday in your honor. His gift is a breathtaking portrait of you, commissioned from the world's finest artist, which he hangs in his private quarters.

Thatch: He'd turn the entire Moby Dick into your personal birthday wonderland. "For the birthday girl/boy, the finest feast in the New World!" He'd feed you bites of delicious food himself, his eyes sparkling with joy. His gift is a locket with a picture of the two of you on one side and the Whitebeard mark on the other, whispering, "So you always have a piece of home with you."

The Quietly Devoted (Intimate & Meaningful)

Mihawk: He'd spend the day in the quiet solitude of his castle with you. No distractions, just the two of you. He'd guide your hand in a sword dance, his body pressed close to yours. "A warrior's heart is a fortress," he'd say, his voice a low rumble, "but you, my love, are its softest chamber." His gift is a dagger with a hilt wrapped in your favorite color, perfectly balanced for your hand. "To protect what is mine."

Katakuri: He would create a private sanctuary just for the two of you, a quiet space where you can both be yourselves. He'd lie with his head in your lap, sharing his favorite donuts and letting you trace the scars on his face. "You're the only one... who sees me like this," he'd murmur, his voice soft. His gift is a hand-carved donut box, filled with his rarest creations, a symbol of him sharing his world with you.

Marco: He'd insist on pampering you, using his cool blue flames to give you a full-body massage that melts away all your stress. "Relax, yoi. Let me take care of my favorite birthday person." He'd take you to a secluded, glowing beach at dusk. His gift is a phoenix-feather necklace that seems to hum with warmth. "So a piece of me is always with you, keeping you safe."

King: He'd fly you to the top of the highest cloud, a private world above the world below, just as the sun sets. He'd wrap his wings around you, creating a warm, safe cocoon. "The world is loud," he'd say, his voice a deep vibration against your ear. "But up here, it's just us." His gift is a single, perfect, iridescent feather from his own wing. "My warmth. My protection. My love."

The Playfully Possessive (Teasing & Affectionate)

Kid: He'd corner you against the wall in his workshop, a smirk on his face. "It's your fucking birthday, huh? Guess that means I have to put up with you all day." But his hands would be gentle as he places a new, custom-built piece of tech on you—maybe a glowing arm accessory that matches his. "Don't lose it. I'll be pissed." Later, he'd pull you onto his lap at the party, nipping at your ear. "You're not leaving my sight tonight. You're all mine to celebrate."

Crocodile: He'd act completely uninterested, but you'd find your schedule cleared and a mountain of expensive gifts in your room. He'd pull you onto his lap later, hooking his hook around your waist to pull you closer. "Don't get any ideas," he'd growl, his golden eye watching you intently. "I just hate inefficiency. And your birthday is a distraction I intend to handle personally." His gift is a solid gold, gilded fan, matching his own, a silent claim.

Law: He'd use his Room ability to playfully tease you all day, swapping your shoes with his hat or making your favorite drink appear in your hand. "Heh. Happy birthday." When you're alone, he'd teleport behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist. "I have a present for you," he'd whisper in your ear, his voice low. "But you'll have to come to my room to get it." His gift is a custom-made, sleek new weapon, engraved with a subtle Jolly Roger of your own design.

Smoker: He'd grumble about the "damn paperwork" but would take the day off, stalking around you like a protective, grumpy shadow. At your party, he'd pull you aside, pinning you against a wall with a low growl. "Too many people looking at what's mine." He'd give you a rough, searing kiss. "Happy birthday," he'd mutter, his face slightly flushed. His gift is a new, high-quality seastone weapon, because your safety is his priority, whether he admits it or not.

The Fun-Loving Adventurers (Energetic & Joyful)

Luffy: "ADVENTURE TIME!" He'd wake you at dawn, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We're going on a birthday treasure hunt!" The "treasure" would be a series of hilarious, fun-filled challenges across the ship, ending with him presenting you with a weird, awesome-looking seashell. "I found it just for you! Now let's eat MEAT and CAKE!" He'd end the day with his arm around you, his head on your shoulder. "Best birthday ever, right?"

Ace:He'd scoop you up in a spinning hug, laughing. "Happy birthday! Let's make some memories!" He'd organize a massive beach party with his crew, complete with volleyball, a huge bonfire, and his signature flame fireworks that spell out your name in the sky. He'd pull you close, his arm warm around your shoulders. "I love seeing you happy," he'd say softly. His gift is a slightly clumsy but beautiful wooden carving of your shared Jolly Roger.

Franky: "IT'S BIRTHDAY TIME! THIS IS GONNA BE SUUUUPER!" He'd build a massive, awesome birthday slide that goes from the crow's nest into the ocean. He'd give you a giant, boisterous hug. "I built you something!" He'd present you with a custom-made, solar-powered music player that's also a weapon. "For when you wanna rock out AND kick ass! Now let's party!"

Bartolomeo: "YOUR BIRTHDAY IS A NATIONAL HOLIDAY TO THE BARTO CLUB!" He would have organized the most over-the-top, fan-based celebration imaginable. There would be statues, banners, and a chant with your name. He'd get down on one knees, tears in his eyes. "Thank you for gracing this world with your presence! I would die for you right now if you asked!" His gift is something ridiculously expensive he sold his soul to acquire.

The Awkwardly Sweet (Gruff but Genuine)

Zoro: He'd train extra early so he could have the whole day free. He'd find you, looking away awkwardly. "Hn. It's your birthday." He'd take you to the crow's nest with a bottle of sake, sitting close as you watch the stars. "Don't expect much," he'd mutter, before pressing a rough, gentle kiss to your temple. His gift is a new set of weights and a promise to always be your shield.

Killer: He'd take over kitchen duty, making your favorite meal with a skill that surprises everyone. He'd sit with you, away from the noise of the party. "Kid's an idiot," he'd say, his masked face turned to you. "But I'm not. Happy birthday." He'd give you a small, beautifully wrapped box containing a new set of high-quality headphones. "So you can have some peace... with me."

Shanks: He'd keep it simple and perfect. He'd take your hand and lead you to a quiet, secluded beach. No crew, no chaos, just the two of you, a bottle of his best sake, and the sound of the waves. He'd wrap his arm around you as the sun set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. "Another year of you," he'd say, his voice warm and content. "That's worth celebrating." His gift would be simple: his own, worn red straw hat, placed gently on your head. "Looks better on you anyway. Keep it safe for me."

Cracker: He'd be flustered, avoiding you all morning until he finally marches up, shoving a box into your hands. "Here. It's... for your birthday." Inside is an incredibly detailed, beautiful biscuit replica of your home ship, complete with tiny, edible biscuit versions of the crew. "Don't... eat it all at once, idiot," he'd mumble, turning away to hide a blush. "It took a while."

Brook: He would compose a symphony just for you, and as he played it on his violin, his skeletal form would be more expressive than ever. "Yohohoho! My love, even though I have no eyes, my heart sees you clearly! And it tells me you are the most beautiful melody in the world!" He'd give you a single, perfect red rose and a new music box that plays your special song. "May my music always be a reminder of my eternal love for you!"

Paulie: He'd use his ropes to create a breathtaking canopy of flowers above the deck, a private, romantic garden just for you. "Happy birthday," he'd say, tipping his hat, his face a little red. "Figured you deserved somethin' nice." He'd give you a new wallet he hand-stitched himself, the leather imprinted with a tiny, intricate rope heart. "It's nothin' fancy... but it's from me."

Lucci: He would be silent for most of the day, but you'd notice he's dismissed all guards and cleared your schedule. That evening, he'd appear in your room, holding a small, black box. "Efficiency dictates I acknowledge this day," he'd state, his voice monotone. Inside is a set of custom-made, razor-sharp throwing knives, each with an amethyst pommel matching his eyes. "Do not disappoint me." It's his way of saying he sees you as his equal, his partner.

The Vinsmoke Brothers (Individually Chaotic)

Ichiji: He'd approach you with his usual cool smirk, but there's a flicker of something else in his eyes. "Your birthday. A trivial event, but I suppose it warrants acknowledgment." He'd present you with a small, heavy box. Inside is a stunning, fire-red diamond pendant on a platinum chain. "It matches my aura," he'd state, stepping closer to fasten it around your neck. His fingers would linger on your skin. "Consider it a mark. You're under my protection now. Don't make me regret it."

Niji: He'd find you and, without a word, grab your wrist and pull you along. "Tch. Don't stand there looking useless. I have something for you." He'd drag you to the training room where a brand-new, state-of-the-art raid suit is displayed. "It's not as good as mine, obviously," he'd sneer, "but maybe it'll stop you from getting yourself killed." He'd turn you to face him, his grip tight. "Try not to ruin it. And don't think this means I care. I just hate having weak links around." The possessive glint in his eyes says otherwise.

Yonji: He'd be the most enthusiastic, literally sweeping you off your feet and into a spinning hug. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" he'd boom, grinning widely. "I got you the best gift! ME!" He'd spend the day dragging you around for "fun," which mostly involves him showing off his strength to impress you. His actual gift is a ridiculously over-the-top, high-tech entertainment system. "So we can watch movies and you can bring me snacks! It's a gift for both of us!" He'd end the day by throwing you over his shoulder. "Time for your birthday cuddles, whether you want them or not!"

The Sweet & Sensual Creators

Perospero: He'd create a private, magical world for you in a hall, with candy sculptures of your favorite memories together. "Hehehe... only the sweetest things for my sweetest love," he'd purr, offering you a perfect candy rose. He'd feed you decadent sweets by hand, his eyes never leaving yours. "Open wide..." he'd whisper, his voice a low, seductive hum. His gift is a beautiful, intricate music box made entirely of spun sugar and hard candy that plays your favorite song. "It's a shame to eat it... but I wouldn't mind licking it off you later."

Oven: He'd take charge of the entire celebration, ensuring the party is the perfect temperature and the food is cooked to absolute perfection. He'd be surprisingly attentive, making sure you have a warm drink in your hand at all times. "Can't have my favorite birthday person catching a chill," he'd say, his voice a low rumble. Later, he'd pull you aside, his large hands warm on your arms. "I have a real gift for you," he'd murmur, presenting you with a custom-designed, winter-proof coat. "So you're always warm... when I'm not around to keep you that way."

Vista: He would be the perfect gentleman. He'd greet you with a flourish and a kiss on your hand. "My dear, a day as lovely as you deserves to be celebrated with elegance." He'd throw a sophisticated party, complete with a dance floor where he'd waltz with you all night, making you feel like the only person in the room. "May I have this dance?" he'd ask, his eyes twinkling. His gift is a single, perfect red rose and a promise. "For every petal, a kiss I owe you. And this is just the beginning."

The Quietly Devoted & Cultured

Izo: He would wake you with the scent of fresh tea and the soft rustle of silk. "Good morning, my love. Your special day begins now." He'd have laid out a breathtaking, custom-made kimono for you, its pattern a secret story of your relationship. "Allow me," he'd whisper, his hands deft and gentle as he helps you dress. He'd spend the day in quiet intimacy, sharing tea and stories. His gift is a delicate, hand-painted fan. "So you may always have a cool breeze... and a reminder of my affection."

X Drake: He'd plan a thoughtful, unique date. "I have arranged something for your birthday," he'd state, his voice calm. He'd take you to a remote, prehistoric island for a private dinosaur safari, his presence a steady, reassuring comfort. He'd be protective, his hand always near you. "These creatures are powerful," he'd muse, "but not as captivating as you." His gift is a high-tech pair of binoculars and a hand-drawn star chart of the constellations visible from that island. "So you can always find your way back to me... and to our place."

Hawkins: He'd greet you with a rare, small smile. "The cards have been quite clear. Today is a day of significant positive energy for you." He wouldn't plan a party, but a quiet, perfect day based on his tarot reading. He'd lay out the cards for you, explaining their meaning. "The Lovers card appeared, alongside The Star. A fortuitous omen." His gift is a set of beautifully crafted, personalized tarot cards. "So you may always guide your own fate... though I find mine is irrevocably tied to yours."

The Goofily Affectionate & Theatrical

Buggy: He'd spend the day trying (and failing) to act cool and unbothered. "Birthday, shmirthday. It's just another day," he'd grumble, but you'd notice the ship is covered in poorly hidden, mismatched decorations. He'd present you with a box with a flourish. "I, the great Captain Buggy, have acquired this for you!" Inside is a gaudy but surprisingly expensive piece of jewelry. He'd get flustered when you thank him, his face turning red. "Don't look at me like that! I just... didn't want you to cry on your stupid birthday!" He'd later try to "casually" put an arm around you, detaching his hand to hold yours from a distance when he gets too shy.

[one-pieces-things]

Hiii ermm is it alr if i request more yandere characters? I was thinking of like how would the characters react when the symptoms of stockholm syndrome starts to show up on reader? Would they be sad/terrified of how much they've broken their reader or would they rejoice in finally breaking the reader!! I was thinking of like doffy, thatch, vista and (if u write for him) kizaru? But if not please just replace him with marco!! Hehhe ty!!

𝙳𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊, 𝚔𝚒𝚣𝚊𝚛𝚞, 𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚂𝚝𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚖 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚖

𝔻𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕪

The change in you is subtle at first, then impossible to ignore. You no longer scream when he enters the room. You don't flinch away from his shadow. One evening, when a loud crash sounds from outside the palace walls, you don't even jump. Instead, your eyes, wide and vacant, find his across the room, seeking an anchor in the storm.

A slow grin spreads across Doflamingo's face. He rises from his throne, his massive frame eclipsing the light as he strides towards you. He crouches down, his long fingers wrapping around your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"Fufufu... now what's this, little bird?" he purrs, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. "No screaming? No crying? You're learning." His voice is a low rumble of victory. "You're finally starting to understand. There's nothing to fear out there. Not when you belong to me."

His rewards are not things you can enjoy, but things that reinforce his ownership. The next day, instead of your simple clothes, you find a dress made of the finest, most delicate silk, but it's in his signature flamingo pink. When you look at it with a hollow expression, he chuckles.

"You like it? It's my color. Now everyone will know who you belong to just by looking at you."

His greatest "reward" is touch. Before, his hands were instruments of punishment and control. Now, they are a constant, possessive presence. He'll have you sit on his lap during his "work," his arm wrapped around your waist like a steel band. He'll feed you himself, holding a morsel of food to his lips and waiting for you to take it. The moment you do, he rewards you with a rare, genuine-seeming smile.

"Good girl," he'll murmur, his lips brushing against your ear. "See? So much easier when you just behave. You're so much more beautiful when you're not fighting me."

𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

You're in the kitchen, the air thick with the scent of baking bread—a smell you once loved but now only associate with your prison. Thatch is humming a tune as he decorates a cake, and you watch, your expression blank. When he sets the piping bag down a little too hard, you flinch, but instead of recoiling into yourself, your eyes dart to him, seeking reassurance.

Thatch's humming stops instantly. He sees the look—that silent, pleading dependence—and the color drains from his face. The pastry bag drops from his hand, splattering buttercream onto the floor.

"Oh god... no, no, no," he whispers, stumbling back a step. "This isn't... this wasn't supposed to happen."

Panic sets in. This isn't love, it's a sickness, and he's the one who infected you. He starts trying everything to bring you back, his actions growing more and more desperate.

"Okay, okay, let's... let's get you some fresh air," he says, his voice trembling as he unlocks a door that leads to a small, private balcony. He's never unlocked it before. "Just for a minute. Just look at the ocean." But you just stand there, shivering, and after a moment, you step back inside, closer to him. The fresh air felt too big, too free. He feels a wave of nausea.

The next day, he tries to coax you with memories. He lays out a spread of all your favorite foods, the ones you told him about before everything went wrong.

"Remember this? You said you loved this dish from your hometown," he says, pushing a plate towards you. "Please... just try it. For me?" You poke at the food, but your eyes keep flicking back to his face, waiting for his approval, his cue. It's not about hunger; it's about obedience. He sees that, and his shoulders slump in defeat.

His "rewards" become frantic attempts to rewind time. He leaves a chest of your old clothes, the ones you wore when he first brought you here. "You can wear whatever you want," he says, his voice hollow. But you just stare at the familiar fabrics, then pull on the simple dress he'd laid out for you that morning. It's easier. It's what he expects.

He's trapped in a loop, trying to fix the very person he broke, and every attempt to heal you only reinforces the conditioning he so desperately hates.

𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕒

The first time you voluntarily take his hand is when he's leading you through the rose garden. The path is uneven, and you stumble slightly. Before he can even offer his arm, your smaller hand is slipping into his, seeking his stability.

Vista stops dead. He looks down at your intertwined fingers, then up at your face. Your expression is placid, empty of the terror that used to live there. A deep smile touches his lips. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

"There you are," he says, his voice as soft as velvet. "I was wondering when you'd stop fighting the path."

His rewards are a carefully curated collection of experiences designed to make your new life feel beautiful and precious, even if it's gilded. The next day, he doesn't just bring you a single rose. He leads you to a newly sun-drenched room he's had prepared for you. The windows are open, showing a view of the sea, and a harp sits in the corner.

"A room worthy of a muse," he murmurs, his eyes watching your every reaction. "Do you like it?"

When you give a small, hesitant nod, he rewards you with a genuine, if sad, smile. He begins to teach you things. He'll sit you down and show you how to play the harp, his hands guiding yours over the strings. He'll bring you rare, beautifully bound books of poetry and read to you for hours, his voice a soothing melody.

"Beauty can be born from adversity," he says one evening, pouring you a glass of deep red wine. "Like a rose growing from a crack in the stone. You are more beautiful to me now than you ever were, because you are truly mine, forged in the fires of my devotion." He revels in your quiet compliance, seeing it not as a break, but as a masterpiece he has finally completed.

𝕜𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕣𝕦

Kizaru notices everything, but he rarely moves faster than he has to. For weeks, you've been a quiet, tense presence in the vast, sterile rooms of his Marine base. One afternoon, he's lazing on a couch, eyes closed, while you sit across the room. An explosion rocks the distant part of the base—the sound of a training exercise gone wrong. You flinch violently, a choked gasp escaping you.

But you don't scramble for cover. Your wide, terrified eyes snap open and lock onto him. Seeing him completely still, a picture of lazy indifference, a wave of visible relief washes over you.

He cracks one golden eye open, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face. "Well, now..." he drawls, his voice a low, warm hum. He doesn't get up, just beckons you over with a crooked finger. "Come here."

Hesitantly, you obey, standing before him. He reaches out, not to grab or restrain, but to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch is surprisingly warm.

"Good girl, you're starting to see it, aren't you?" he murmurs, his gaze soft and focused entirely on you. "All that noise, all that trouble out there... it's all so far away. But in here? With me? It's peaceful. You're safe when you're close to me."

His "rewards" become acts of languid affection. He'll start patting the space beside him on the couch, and you learn that's an invitation. He'll wrap an arm around you, pulling you against his side, and you'll stay there for hours as he dozes. He finds your new, quiet presence far more soothing than any pillow.

One evening, he returns from a mission and materializes right in front of you, making you jump. He chuckles, a soft, breathy sound.

"Sorry, did I scare you?" he asks, though his tone is anything but apologetic. He's holding something—a delicate, shimmering seashell. "I was thinking of you." He takes your hand and places the shell in your palm, closing your fingers around it. "It's from a quiet beach. Reminded me of how I want you to feel. Calm. And with me."

He's not just amused anymore; he's enchanted. Your dependence isn't a convenience; it's a comfort. He's a creature of immense power who finds the loudest world boring, and your quiet, focused world, where he is the center, is the only place he truly wants to be.

𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕠

The change is gradual, and Marco, as a doctor, charts its progress with a hopeful heart. He notices the physiological signs first: your heart rate stabilizes when he enters the room, your breathing evens out, the constant tension in your shoulders eases. The psychological signs follow. You start speaking in a softer tone, mirroring his calm demeanor. One day, he brings you a meal, and you thank him. The words are quiet, but they're the first you've spoken without being prompted.

He sets the tray down and sits on the edge of your bed, his expression softening with a warmth he usually reserves for his crew.

"It's good to hear your voice, yoi," he says, his voice gentle. "How are you feeling today?"

When you just look at him, unsure how to answer, he doesn't press. He simply reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb stroking the back of it. "It's okay. You don't have to talk. Just... let me take care of you."

His "rewards" are acts of tender, devoted care. He starts bringing you things to help you heal, not just physically but emotionally. He'll bring you books on topics you once mentioned you liked, hoping to spark a glimmer of your old self. He'll sit with you for hours, not speaking, just reading his own medical logs in a comfortable silence, letting you get used to his peaceful presence.

The most significant reward is trust. One evening, he notices you shivering slightly.

"Are you cold?" he asks. When you nod, he doesn't just get you an extra blanket. He hesitates for a moment, then says, "Move over." When you do, he slips into the bed beside you, keeping a respectful distance. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you gently against his chest. His body is warm, and the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart is soothing.

"Just rest," he murmurs into your hair. "I've got you. I'll always keep you safe. You don't ever have to be afraid again."

He sees your Stockholm syndrome not as a break, but as a form of recovery. You were sick with fear and defiance, and now you're healing, accepting the cure he is offering: a life of absolute safety and unwavering devotion, wrapped in his arms forever.

[one-pieces-things]

hello i absolutely love your writing style! thw seeing your posts whenever i wake up or get out of school or before going to bed definitely makes my day. this is day 3 of asking for this and the topic maybe a little weird (ish) so if you're too uncomfortable to write it, thats totally fine!

Day 2 of begging you to do this yandere x yandere Innocent!Reader for Whitebeard, Thatch, Izou, and Jozu (separately reaction, the Whitebeard Pirates don't get enough love!) where the yandere is obsessed with the innocent Marine, so like any other Yandere pirate they capture the reader mid battle,

Innocent!Marine Reader isn't innocent because they are obsessed with yandere but she worried it would affect our job so she hit it,

But! Instead of resisting or trying to escape, when the yandere! Character visited Marine!Reader, expecting protesting and demanding to be let go. Innocent!Marine Reader fell on her knees holding onto their hands (you can decide for Whitebeard because of the obvious height & size difference) with a lovesick expression on her face 'I gladly tell you every information i know about the World Government, just please love me!'

It's up to you if you want to do it or not!

Of course I write starlight! I swear it's such a good idea, I didn't like how I write it, but I'm the end I'm posting this, i really hope you enjoy it, and I'm so so so sorry that I made you ask it 3 times, so please forgive me Starlight 🙏🏻😭

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑, 𝙸𝚣𝚘, 𝙹𝚘𝚣𝚞 𝚡 𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕕

The heavy door to the captain's quarters groaned open, and Edward Newgate ducked to enter, his shadow swallowing the small, sparsely furnished room. His gaze fell upon the young Marine woman he'd had his men pluck from the battlefield. He expected defiance, tears, maybe even a foolish attempt at a last stand. Instead, he found you waiting, standing perfectly still in the center of the room. The moment your eyes met his, something shifted.

You didn't scream. You didn't plead for your life in the way he was used to. Instead, your legs buckled, and you sank to the floor with a soft thud. You scrambled forward on your knees, your uniform getting dirty, and stopped right at his boots. Before he could even process the bizarre sight, you reached out, your small hands desperately clutching the fabric of his pants.

"I-I know why you brought me here," you stammered, your voice trembling but not with fear. It was thick with an emotion he couldn't immediately place. Your eyes, wide and shining, were locked on his face. "You think I'm just another Marine. A pawn. But I'm not. I've watched you for so long, Captain Newgate. From a distance. I've read every report, seen every wanted poster... I know you're not the monster they make you out to be. You're a king. A protector of your own."

Whitebeard stared, utterly bewildered. This was a first. He remained silent, letting you pour out your heart.

"I joined the Marines because it seemed like the right path, but every day felt like a lie. All I could think about was you. Your strength, your vision... your family. I tried to push it away, to be a good soldier, but it was useless. I'm obsessed. I know it's wrong, but I don't care anymore. This is the only chance I'll ever get."

You looked up at him, your expression a breathtaking mix of desperation and adoration. "I'll tell you everything. Everything I know. I have access to patrol routes, supply manifests, secret meeting schedules, the names of officials who are too cowardly to stand up to you... I'll give you the World Government on a silver platter. Just... please..." You tightened your grip on his pants, your knuckles white. "Please, love me. Let me be yours. Let me stay with you. I'll be useful, I swear! I'll do anything you ask, just don't send me back. I can't go back to a world without you in it."

A long, heavy silence filled the room. Then, a deep, rumbling chuckle started in Whitebeard's chest, growing into a full, booming laugh that shook the very timbers of the ship. He slowly reached down, his massive hand engulfing your entire head as he gently stroked your hair.

"You are a fascinating little thing," he rumbled, his voice filled with genuine amusement and a strange, new warmth. "To throw away your entire world for a pirate you've only ever seen from afar. You have more guts than half the rookies on my ship." He looked down at your desperate, pleading face, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something other than the weight of his title. "Very well. You have my attention. Stand up."

You scrambled to your feet, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you. "Your information will be... appreciated. But your devotion? That is a treasure I did not expect. You will stay with me. You will be under my personal protection. And you," he said, a rare, genuine smile gracing his lips, "will tell me more about this obsession of yours."

𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

The door swung open with a cheerful bang, and Thatch sauntered in, a plate of dango in one hand and a cocky grin on his face. "Alright, little Marine, time for your interrogation! I hope you like—Whoa!"

He stopped dead in his tracks, the dango nearly tumbling to the floor. There you were, on your knees, your eyes locked onto him like he was the answer to every prayer you'd ever had. He blinked, setting the plate down on a nearby table as you scrambled forward.

"Commander Thatch!" you cried out, your hands reaching for him. You caught the edge of his uniform, your fingers clutching the silk like a lifeline. "I knew you'd come! I knew you'd be the one to see me!"

Thatch was completely floored. He'd planned a whole speech, a mix of charm and intimidation to get you to talk. This... this was not part of the plan. He knelt down, getting on your level, his expression a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated delight.

"Well now, this is a welcome surprise!" he chirped, his voice full of playful energy. "I was all set to be the big, scary pirate, but you seem to have skipped right to the good part. What can I do for you?"

"I know things," you said, your voice urgent and breathless. "Things that would be valuable to you. The World Government is planning something big, a weapons deal on a neutral island. I have the coordinates, the date, the code phrase. It's all in my head. And there's more. I know about the secret passages in Marineford, the ones they don't put on any maps. I can draw them for you from memory. Please... just let me stay. I'll give you all of it. I'll be your eyes and ears, your secret weapon. I don't care about my old life anymore. I only care about you. I'll do anything, just please, let me be by your side. Let me love you."

Thatch's grin became positively feral. He laughed, a bright, infectious sound, and gently pried your fingers from his sash to take your hands in his. "Secret passages? Weapons deals? Honey, you just hit the jackpot! I knew there was a reason I liked you the second I saw you."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, for a Marine, you're a terrible traitor to your own side, and I absolutely love it. Forget being an informant, that's so boring. You're getting a promotion! You're now officially my 'Special Advisor on Awesome Things and Kicking Government Butt.' It's a very prestigious title, I just made it up."

He stood, pulling you to your feet with him and keeping a firm grip on your hand. "First order of business, we're getting you out of that drab uniform. It's a crime against fashion. Second, you're telling me everything over a celebratory feast I'm going to cook just for you. Welcome to the family, gorgeous. Try not to get seasick."

𝕀𝕫𝕠

The door slid open with a soft, almost silent click, and Izou entered the room with his customary grace. He held a cup of tea. He expected a frightened Marine, perhaps one he could coax into talking with a few carefully chosen words. He did not expect you to immediately drop to your knees and bow your head to the floor.

"Lord Izou," you whispered, your voice muffled by the wooden floorboards.

Izou paused, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in intrigue. He set the teacup down, his movements fluid and unhurried. "Lord? My, that is a title I haven't heard from a Marine's lips before. Do raise your head. It is unbecoming to hide a face as lovely as yours."

You lifted your head, your cheeks flushed and your eyes filled with a desperate, worshipful gleam. "I mean it! I've admired you from afar for so long. Your elegance, your skill with a rifle, the way you carry yourself... you're like a work of art come to life. I tried to be a good Marine, I truly did. But my heart was never in it. It's always been with you. With the Whitebeard Pirates."

He listened, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. He watched as you shuffled forward on your knees, your hands clasped together as if in prayer.

"I know things," you said, your voice urgent. "Things that would be valuable to you. Marineford is planning to get information to stop your crew and your captain, I can tell you everything, I can give you all the information I know, and all the secrets about the world government, just please, let me be by your lady. Let me love you."

Izou's lips curved into a slow, beautiful smile. He gracefully lowered himself to one knee, bringing himself to your level. He took your clasped hands in his, his touch cool and gentle. He brought your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss that made you gasp.

"My dear, what an utterly captivating proposition," he purred, his voice like velvet. "To offer me not just secrets, but your very soul. It is a gift far more precious than any weapon or map." He released your hands, only to gently cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. "Your devotion is the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed. It is a flower blooming in the most unlikely of places."

He leaned in, his forehead almost touching yours, his eyes holding a mesmerizing, sweet gleam. "Of course, I accept. How could I possibly refuse such an earnest heart? You will stay by my side. You will be my most treasured secret, my beautiful little songbird. And as for your information... we will discuss it over tea. Every night. You will tell me everything, and I, in turn, will show you a world you've only ever dreamed of. You are mine now, little Marine. And I take very, very good care of what is mine."

𝕁𝕠𝕫𝕦

The door to the cabin opened with a heavy thud, and Jozu stepped inside, his diamond-armored form catching the light. He was a man of few words, expecting to find a frightened Marine he could stare into submission. Instead, he found you on your knees before he’d even closed the door, your eyes wide and fixed on him.

He stopped, his usually stoic expression faltering for a fraction of a second. You shuffled forward, the sound of your knees scraping against the wood floor the only noise in the room.

"Commander Jozu," you breathed, your voice filled with a reverence he’d only ever seen directed at Whitebeard himself. "I knew it would be you. I knew you'd be the one to come for me."

Jozu remained silent, his gaze intense and unreadable as he watched you. He was completely unprepared for this.

"I've seen you on the battlefield," you continued, your words tumbling out in a rush. "You're like a force of nature. Unstoppable. I tried to focus on my duties, on being a good soldier, but every time there was a report about the Whitebeard Pirates, my eyes would search for your name. I have drawings of you in my bunk, sketches of you in mid-fight... I know it's foolish. I know it's a betrayal of everything I was supposed to be, but I don't care anymore."

You looked up at him, your expression a desperate, open plea. "I can be useful to you. I know things. The Marines are planning a surprise inspection of a nearby allied island in two weeks. It's a front for a weapons cache. I have the coordinates and the security codes memorized. I'll tell you everything. I'll give you every secret I know. Just... please... let me stay with you. I don't want to go back. I want to be with you. I'll do anything, just please, love me."

The silence that followed was heavy and thick. Jozu stared down at you, his mind working to process the sudden, overwhelming confession. Then, a slow, rare smile touched his lips, a sight so unexpected it was breathtaking. He crouched down, his large frame still imposing but much closer to your level.

"You're serious," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "You'd really give up everything... for me?" He seemed genuinely moved, his usual stoicism melting away to reveal a flicker of vulnerability. "I'm not a man of many words."

He reached out, his calloused hand gently tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "But I'm not letting you go. Not now, not ever."

He stood, pulling you up with him, his grip firm but not painful. "You'll stay with me. On my ship. You'll be safe there. And as for your offer... we'll talk. But first, you need to understand what you're getting into. Being with me means being with the Whitebeard Pirates. Are you ready for that?"

He saw the immediate, unwavering nod and decided to test your resolve, a rare, teasing glint in his eyes. "Can you handle Pops laughing at everything? Marco and Ace fighting over the stupidest things? The drama from Thatch if you say his food is 'good' instead of 'life-changing'? And you have to compliment Vista's mustache. Every day. It's a rule."

He watched your reaction, expecting at least a flicker of hesitation. Instead, a brilliant smile broke out on your face.

"Yes," you said without a moment's doubt. "All of it. It sounds wonderful. It sounds like a family."

Jozu's smile widened into a full, rare grin. He let out a short, quiet chuckle. "Good. Because you're stuck with all of it. And with me." He didn't let go of your hand, his grip a silent, unbreakable promise. "Welcome to the Moby Dick."

[one-pieces-things]

hii i absolutely love your writing style! tbh seeing your posts whenever i wake up or get out of school definitely make my day. this is my first time ever requesting and the topic maybe a little weird (ish) so if you're too uncomfortable to write it, thats totally fine!

could i request a comfort where the reader is insecure of their looks and just how they display themselves in general? they see themselves as too loud or annoying so they isolate themselves from others for "the sake of others." in regards to their looks, they dont put themselves out there bc they believe no one should look at them. specifically characters like marco, beckman, hongo, or shanks but anyone you think would fit this topic is fine!

it could start with the reader has been a member of the crew for a while but the characters have always noticed how the reader is so kept to themselves. the rest can be up to you and go any way youd like ^^

sorry this is a little long 😭 and ofc stay safe and well!

Oh don't worry about it starlight, Thanks for the details, well, thanks also for the kind words, I after my 6h of school (I won't be too specific maybe it's college maybe it's university but I will leave you with the doubt) write and try to post as many stories I can, jsjsjsjsjsjsj, well enjoy your fanfic starlight ✨

𝚂𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜, 𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚗, 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚘, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝚡 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝕊𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕤

You found your usual spot, a shadowed alcove near the ship's rail, a perfect vantage point to watch the party without being part of it. The Red Force was alive with music and laughter, a chaotic symphony that you loved from a distance. Up close, you felt like a wrong note.

“Lost in thought, or just admiring the view?”

You didn’t jump, but your shoulders tensed. Shanks leaned against the rail beside you, his silhouette relaxed against the moonlit sky. He held his bottle of sake loosely, his one eye fixed on you with an unnerving, gentle focus.

“Just… watching, Captain,” you mumbled, staring at the waves.

“Shanks,” he corrected softly. “And you’re not watching. You’re hiding.” He took a slow drink, his gaze unwavering. “You’ve been doing this for a while now. Always at the edge. Never quite in the middle of it. What’s running through that head of yours?”

You picked at a loose thread on your sleeve. “It’s better this way. For everyone.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Better how? You think you’re too loud? Too much? You think your face is something people shouldn’t have to look at?” His voice was gentle, but his words struck with pinpoint accuracy.

You couldn’t answer, the shame a hot lump in your throat.

“kid, look at them,” he said, gesturing with his bottle toward the heart of the chaos. “You think you don’t fit in with this bunch? Look at Yasopp. He’d bet his last berry on a gust of wind and then tell a story about how he won. Look at Lucky Roux. The man laughs like a thunderstorm and eats enough for three people, and he’s still the happiest guy I know. You think he cares if someone’s laugh is ‘too loud’?”

He took a step closer, his presence a warm, steady weight. “Then you’ve got Benn. My first mate is so unflappable he could stare down a Sea King and ask it for the time. And Hongo… the man has to stitch us up after we do stupid shit, which is basically every other Tuesday. He’s seen it all. You think your insecurities are gonna faze him?”

He crouched down in front of you, forcing you to meet his gaze. “And then there’s me. I’ve got one arm, a drinking problem, and a habit of starting wars over spilled drinks. We are not a normal crew. We are a collection of strange, loud, broken people who found a home on a floating piece of wood. You’re not too strange for us. You’re not even strange enough.”

His thumb gently brushed your cheek, and you felt the carefully constructed walls around your heart begin to crumble. He leaned in slowly, and you didn’t pull away. His lips met yours, soft and warm, tasting of sake and the open sea. It was a kiss that said, i see you, and you belong here.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice a low murmur. “You’re one of us. All of you. Get used to it.”

𝔹𝕖𝕟𝕟

The deck was quiet in the pre-dawn light, the party having finally wound down. You were scrubbing a spot on the wood that was already clean, the repetitive motion a futile attempt to scrub away the anxiety that clung to you like a second skin.

“You’re gonna wear a hole in the deck at that rate.”

You didn’t have to look up. Benn Beckman’s voice was as familiar as the creak of the ship. He leaned against the mast, a freshly lit cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes watching you with an unnerving perception.

“Just making sure it’s clean,” you mumbled.

“Right.” He took a long drag, the ember glowing in the dim light. He was quiet for a moment, just letting the silence settle. “Still think you’re a burden?”

Your shoulders slumped. “I don’t mean to be.”

“I know.” He pushed off the mast and walked over, stopping just beside you. “You think your moods are difficult. That we have to handle you with kid gloves.” He let out a short, wry huff of smoke. “Kid, you have no idea what ‘difficult’ is.”

He crouched down, bringing himself to your level. “I deal with our captain every single day. The man loses an arm and makes a joke about it. He makes life-or-death decisions based on a gut feeling and the quality of the sake. He starts international incidents over a spilled drink and then looks at me like i’m the one being unreasonable. You think your quiet moments are a chore? You think your insecurities are a problem?”

A small, startled laugh escaped you. “That’s a terrible comparison.”

“It’s the truth,” he said, a flicker of a smile on his own lips. “I’ve had to talk him out of, into, and through more shit than you can imagine. Your self-doubt is a vacation. A paid vacation.” He reached out, his calloused thumb gently wiping a stray tear from your cheek you hadn’t realized was there. “You’re not difficult. You’re just… careful. And you don’t have to be careful with me.”

He leaned in and kissed you. It was firm, confident, and tasted of smoke and sea air. It was a kiss that said, i’ve got this, and I’ve got you. When he broke it, he didn’t go far, his forehead resting against yours.

“Stop trying to disappear,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration against your skin. “I’m a patient man, but even I have my limits.”

From across the deck, Shanks’s voice boomed out, full of mock indignation. “BENN! I HEARD THAT!”

Beckman just sighed, a fond, long-suffering look on his face, before turning his attention back to you. “See what I have to deal with? You’re a breath of fresh air.”

ℍ𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕠

The infirmary was your sanctuary, the only place on the chaotic Red Force that felt ordered and safe. You were meticulously organizing a shelf of herbs, the task a familiar comfort.

“Anything actually bleeding in here,” Hongo asked, his dry voice cutting through the silence, “or are you just alphabetizing your anxieties?”

You sighed, not even bothering with a defense. “The latter, probably.”

He leaned against the examination table, arms crossed over his chest. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Figured.” He was quiet for a moment, just watching you. “You think you’re a high-maintenance project. That your emotional state is a liability to the crew.”

You just nodded, your eyes fixed on the shelves.

“Let me offer a medical opinion,” he said, his tone utterly serious. “I have been dealing with this crew long enough to know what a genuine liability is. A liability is Shanks, who thinks ‘disinfectant’ is optional and that stitches are for people who can’t tough it out. A liability is Yasopp, who once tried to stitch his own wound with fishing line and thread, and got it infected. A liability is Beckman, who is so stoic he won’t tell me he’s been stabbed until he’s dripping blood on my clean floor.”

He paused, letting that sink in. “And Lucky Roux… don’t get me started on Lucky Roux’s dietary-induced health scares. You think your self-doubt is a burden? It’s a walk in the park. It’s a quiet, park-bench kind of problem.”

A small smile touched your lips despite yourself. “That’s a terrible diagnosis.”

“It’s accurate,” he said, his voice softening. He walked over, stopping in front of you. “You’re not a burden. You’re just… hurting. And you don’t have to hurt alone.” He reached out, his cool fingers gently tilting your chin up. “And for the record, I don’t mind looking at your face. It’s a perfectly functional face. Aesthetically pleasing, even.”

He leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle, precise, and utterly devoid of hesitation. It was the kiss of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, a kiss that said, I see the wound, and I’m here to help it heal. When he pulled back, his hands framed your face.

“See?” he murmured, his dark eyes searching yours. “Perfectly manageable. Now, how about we find you a treatment plan? I’m thinking a regimen of positive reinforcement and, occasionally, letting me buy you a drink to discuss your progress.”

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕠

You were leaning against the rail near the figurehead, convinced that your presence was an intrusion.

“You’re gonna get a splinter in your elbow, leaning on the rail like that.”

You turned to see Marco leaning against the railing, the blue flames of his cigarette flickering softly in the night air. He looked relaxed, but his eyes were sharp.

“Just watching,” you mumbled.

“Is it?” Marco raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk touching his lips. “You think you’re a handful? Please, I’ve been dealing with this family for over twenty years. You’re a walk in the park.”

He gestured with his thumb toward the heart of the party. “You see Thatch over there? He once cried for an hour because he burned a piece of toast and said it was a ‘culinary tragedy.’ Ace? He tried to prank Pops by replacing his sake with water and nearly gave the old man a heart attack. And Vista… don’t even get me started on Vista. He’ll spend forty-five minutes preening his mustache before a fight and then get genuinely offended if someone doesn’t compliment it.”

A real, startled laugh escaped you. “That really happened?”

“All the time,” Marco said, his voice warm. “We are a crew of dramatic, loud, emotionally unstable idiots. And Pops loves every single one of us. So you think your laugh is too loud? Please. I’ve heard Thatch sing sea shanties after a bottle of rum. Your voice is practically a lullaby.”

He stepped closer, his presence a warm anchor against your anxiety. “And as for your face… I’m a doctor. I’ve seen faces that were rearranged by cannonballs and stitched back together by a rookie with shaky hands. There’s nothing wrong with yours. In fact, I rather like looking at it.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his blue flames casting a soft glow on your skin. His kiss was gentle but sure, a slow, deliberate press that tasted of smoke and something uniquely Marco. It wasn’t a kiss of pity; it was a kiss of certainty, an affirmation that you were wanted, just as you were.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his fingers tangling gently in your hair.

“You’re not a burden,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “You’re not annoying. You’re one of us. And if you ever forget that, just find me. I’ll give you a list of all the reasons you belong here, starting with Thatch’s terrible cooking and ending with the fact that I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

You let out a shaky breath, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his own smile soft and genuine. “Now, how about we go get a drink? I promise not to let Ace challenge you to an eating contest. You’re not ready for that level of drama yet.”

[one-pieces-things]

There is !!NO!! X Drake love on this site >:(

I love the shy reader ideas. Could you do nsfw headcanons with him and a shy sweet fem!reader?

𝚇 𝙳𝚛𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚑𝚢 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚗𝚜𝚏𝚠 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗

Foreplay & Teasing:

Drake takes his time. He doesn't rush to get inside you; he wants to savor every inch of you. He’ll start with soft kisses, trailing his lips down your neck and across your collarbone, just to make you shiver.

He uses his rough hands to soothe you. The contrast of his fingertips against your soft skin feels amazing. He’ll massage your thighs gently, spreading your legs, and look up at you with dark, intense eyes that say he’s in no rush.

He loves the sound of your voice, even if you're just whispering. He’ll encourage you to talk to him, asking soft questions like "Does that feel good?" or "Do you like when I kiss you there?"

He’s very gentle with your breasts, taking his time to worship them. His mouth is warm and attentive, and his hands are firm but careful.

In Bed:

The pacing is slow and deliberate. Drake likes to build tension slowly, watching your face as you get closer and closer to the edge. He wants to see you fall apart piece by piece.

He focuses on connection. He holds your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours, or wraps his arms around your waist to pull you flush against him. He wants to feel you from the inside out.

If you try to pull away or cover your face during sex. Drake grabs your wrists, pins them to the mattress, and leans over you, his eyes burning into yours. "Look at me. I want to see your face when I fuck you."

He’s vocal, but his voice is low and soft. He’ll whisper praises into your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're so beautiful," "You're doing so good for me."

Kinks & Preferences:

Praise (Soft): He loves telling you how good you look, how sweet you are, and how much he likes you. It makes your face flush even more, which he finds adorable.

Visuals: He loves watching you arch your back and your face contort with pleasure. He likes to trace your features with his fingers while you’re coming down from your high.

Intimacy: He prefers positions that allow for deep kissing and eye contact. He wants to feel close to you.

Aftercare focus: He’s not just good at aftercare; he’s obsessed with it. He wants to make sure you feel loved and cherished after he’s done.

Aftercare:

This is Drake's favorite part. After sex, he’ll wrap you up in a blanket, holding you close to his chest. He’ll stroke your hair and kiss the top of your head, murmuring quiet reassurances.

He’s not the type to roll over and go to sleep. He’ll stay awake for a while, just watching you, making sure you’re warm and comfortable.

He might offer you a drink of water or a snack, but he’ll keep one arm wrapped securely around you. He just wants to be close to you.

He’ll trace the lines of your body with his fingers, admiring you. He looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

[one-pieces-things]

Hello! I wanted to request again. Could I please request benn beckman for like the third time. Just general NSFW headcanons, maybe specifically with a shy reader?

Sorry for answering so late, I was very busy in these days, I hope you enjoy starlight ✨

𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚗 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝙽𝚜𝚏𝚠

General Attitude & Approach:

Benn is patient and observant. He notices your shyness and won’t push you past your comfort zone, but he also knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to take the lead when you give him the green light.

His confidence is a quiet, steady thing, not loud or boastful. In intimate moments, he uses that calm dominance to put you at ease. A low rumble in your ear, a firm hand on your lower back, or a slow, deliberate gaze that says, “I’ve got you.”

He enjoys the contrast between his rough, world-weary exterior and your softer, more hesitant nature. It makes him feel protective, and that protectiveness bleeds into how he handles you in bed—firm but never forceful, always attuned to your reactions.

Foreplay & Teasing:

Benn is a master of slow-burn tension. He’ll start with small touches: a thumb stroking your wrist, his fingers brushing your thigh, his breath warm against your neck as he leans in to whisper something that makes you blush.

He loves watching you squirm. If you’re shy about vocalizing what you want, he’ll coax it out of you with teasing questions and a knowing smirk. “Use your words, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

He’s very good with his hands. Calloused from years of handling weapons and ship rigging, they feel incredible on your skin. He’ll take his time mapping every inch of you, enjoying the way you tremble under his touch.

In Bed:

Benn isn’t overly talkative during sex, but he’s vocal enough to let you know how good you feel. Low groans, gruff praises, and the occasional sharp inhal when you do something he particularly likes.

He prefers positions where he can see your face. Missionary, you riding him, or spooning—all give him a clear view of your expressions, which he finds intoxicating. He likes watching you lose control.

He’s surprisingly gentle at first, especially if you’re nervous. He’ll ease into you, letting you adjust before picking up the pace. Once he’s sure you’re comfortable, though, he can get surprisingly rough and demanding.

Expect him to mark you up. Bite marks on your shoulders and neck, fingerprints on your hips. He’s possessive in a low-key way, and seeing his marks on you later satisfies something in him.

Kinks & Preferences:

Praise kink (giving): Benn thrives on praising you. “You’re doing so good for me,” “Look at you, takin’ me so well,” “That’s it, sweetheart.” It’s his way of encouraging you and stoking his own ego.

Power dynamics (soft dom): He naturally takes charge, but it’s not about degradation. It’s about guiding you, making you feel safe while still being firmly in control of the pace and intensity.

Overstimulation: He enjoys pushing you to your limits, making you come until you’re a trembling, whimpering mess, then soothing you through the aftershocks.

Oral fixation: Benn loves going down on you. He’s thorough and relentless, using his tongue and fingers to drive you wild until you’re begging him to stop—or begging for more.

Aftercare:

Aftercare is non-negotiable for Benn. He’ll clean you up, fetch water, and pull you into his arms. He’s not the type to just roll over and sleep.

He’s a big spoon. He likes holding you, feeling your breathing even out as you drift off. If you’re still feeling shy or overwhelmed, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead and murmur something reassuring until you relax completely.

He might light a cigarette or a cigar, but he’ll do it quietly, just enjoying the post-sex haze with you curled up against him. It’s his version of a peaceful moment.