Too many favs

A place to store everything x reader indulgent. I take writing requests, pls send them my way 👉🏻 will include nsfw tagged as #the sin bin. 24, f, bi with too many waifus and husbandos. main is @grimmjowjae

[shusagi]

Hey everyone!

I'm a new multifandom writing blog, I can never pick a specific series to write for. It's been years since I've done this so I'm a little rusty 😅

Mainly writing for: One piece, Bleach and one punch man, I'll take the occasional request for Gangsta if anyone's still in the fandom 👀

I accept nsfw, fluff, mlm, wlw, almost anything. I'm pretty ranged in kinks and I'll be open to writing almost any.

My hard no's are: yandere, dd/lg, pedo ships, etc.

Feel free to say hi, I'm always looking for writing blogs to follow as well 👋🏻

[acrimson-embrace]

The Inn

Plot: “Not here.” He had said it like a promise. He had not brought it up since. Neither had you.

Chapter 2: Trafalgar D. Law

Read: Chapter 1

Law handed you a stack of reports in the infirmary the next afternoon like nothing had happened.

“Inventory logs,” he said.

You took them from him. “That’s romantic.”

His eyes lifted to yours.

Flat. Tired. Annoyed.

Too familiar.

“Do you want the assignment or not?”

“I didn’t say I disliked romance.”

“It’s counting gauze.”

“People have courted with less.”

“You would know?”

You looked down at the first page before he could see the corner of your mouth move. “Are you asking about my romantic history, Captain?”

Law went still for half a second.

There.

Barely anything. Not enough for anyone else to notice.

But you did.

His fingers flexed once around the clipboard he still held. Then he looked away and clicked his tongue.

“I’m asking if you can count to fifty without turning it into a problem.”

“Probably.”

“That isn’t reassuring.”

“You keep assigning me things anyway.”

“You keep standing where I need you.”

That hit strangely.

He seemed to realize it at the same time you did.

The infirmary quieted around the words.

Then Bepo walked past with a crate in his arms, and both of you looked away like you had been caught doing something worse than standing in the same room.

You took the reports. “I’ll have these done before dinner.”

“Good.”

You started to leave.

“Don’t guess,” he added.

You stopped in the doorway. “I would never.”

“You would.”

You looked back at him.

He was watching you now, expression carefully unreadable.

The bed at the inn sat between you anyway.

His arm around your waist. His breath at your neck. The quiet shock of him waking and pulling away like he had touched something he was not allowed to want.

Your face warmed.

Law’s gaze dropped for half a second. Then he turned back to the cabinet beside him and opened it with more force than necessary.

“Go count gauze,” he said.

You obeyed before you could say something stupid.

By dinner, the ship had settled back into its usual rhythm.

The mission was over. The crew was tired, bruised in small places, and more interested in food than conversation. Shachi complained about the rain having ruined his good boots. Penguin told him he did not own good boots.

Law sat at the end of the table, listening more than participating. That was normal.

The way his eyes found you once across the room was not. It was brief. Nothing anyone else would notice.

But you felt it like fingers at your wrist.

You looked away first.

After dinner, you finished the inventory logs. Then you checked a crate of sealed bandages. Then you reorganized two drawers in the supply cabinet because your hands needed something to do.

Not here.

He had said it like a promise.

He had not brought it up since.

Neither had you.

That was the problem with Law. Silence did not feel empty with him. It gathered weight. It became its own conversation.

Later, after most of the ship had gone down for the night, you saw light under Law’s door.

For a moment, you considered walking away. Then you raised your hand and knocked once.

“Come in.”

You opened the door.

Law was at his desk, a stack of charts spread in front of him. His hat was set aside. His hair was a mess from his own fingers. A cup of coffee sat untouched near his hand.

You looked at it.

Then at him.

“I came here to bully you into resting.”

That made his pen stop.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes to you.

“You’re going to bully me.”

“Yes.”

“In my room.”

“You left the light on. That’s basically a cry for help.”

“It is not.”

“It was either that or a lure. I chose the less concerning option.”

Law leaned back in his chair. “You could leave.”

“I could.”

Neither of you moved.

His room was familiar, though you had never spent much time in it alone. Desk. Books. A coat thrown over the back of a chair. Kikoku resting within reach.

And the bed.

You tried not to look at it.

Failed.

Law noticed.

You cleared your throat and stepped fully inside. “How long have you been awake?”

“A normal amount.”

You came closer and picked up the coffee before he could stop you. It was cold.

You held it out accusingly.

Law looked at it. “That was intentional.”

“You intentionally made coffee and didn’t drink it?”

“I was working.”

You set the cup down away from him. “Go to bed.”

“No.”

“Law.”

“I have three more charts to finish.”

“They’ll still be there tomorrow.”

You looked around his room until you found the narrow shelf beside his bed. You walked to it and ran your fingers along the spines.

“What are you doing?”

“Settling in.”

“You’re not staying.”

“You haven’t gone to bed.”

“That isn’t an invitation.”

“I didn’t need one.”

You pulled a book free and glanced at the title. Dense. Medical. Perfect.

You sat on the edge of his bed.

Law stared at you.

“That’s my bed.”

“I know.”

“You’re being difficult on purpose.”

“Only because you respond so consistently.”

His eyes narrowed.

You opened the book across your lap. “Finish one chart. Then sleep.”

“Three.”

“One.”

“Two.”

You turned a page. “One and a half.”

“That isn’t how charts work.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“That has never stopped you from having opinions.”

You looked up at him then.

He was still watching you.

“One chart,” he said.

He resumed writing. For a while, that was all there was.

The scratch of ink. The soft shift of paper when Law reached for another page. You tried to read, but the words kept slipping out of order.

At some point, you stretched your legs out on the bed.

Law noticed.

He did not comment.

At some later point, you leaned back against the wall. Your eyelids grew heavy.

“You’re not reading,” he said.

You blinked. “I am.”

“You’ve been on the same page for ten minutes.”

“It’s a complicated page.”

“It’s the table of contents.”

You turned the page with dignity. “Now it’s not.”

Law made a low sound that was almost amusement. The book dipped slightly in your hands.

“Go to your room,” he said, quieter now.

“In a minute.”

Law’s pen stopped again.

“You’re going to fall asleep there.”

“Probably.”

“That isn’t your bed.”

“No.”

You let the book rest against your stomach. “Do you want me to leave?”

He did not answer right away. Then his eyes came back to yours.

“No,” he said.

“Then finish your chart.”

Law looked at you for another second.

Then he picked up his pen.

The scratch of ink started again.

You meant to keep reading. You even made it through another page, maybe two. Then the words blurred, the book slipped lower against your stomach, and Law said your name once from the desk.

You meant to answer.

Instead, the room went dark.

When you woke again, the lamp been turned off.

You were on your back.

Sometime during the night, Law had gotten into bed beside you. After that, sleep had done whatever sleep wanted, because he was half over you now, his weight settled along your side, one leg pushed between yours beneath the blanket.

His arm was low across your waist. His hand had slipped beneath your shirt, palm warm against your stomach, fingers curved near your ribs. Your own shirt had ridden up under his wrist.

So had his.

There was bare skin at his hip where the fabric had twisted, pressed against you every time he breathed.

You stared at the ceiling.

Law’s face was tucked near your collarbone. His hair brushed your jaw. His mouth was close enough to your throat that the next slow breath from him moved over your skin and made your stomach tighten beneath his hand.

You tried to shift your leg.

His thigh pressed down instinctively.

A small sound caught in your throat before you could stop it.

Law did not wake.

His hand shifted once, sleepy and unthinking.

You went still.

He was asleep.

His knee shifted once beneath the blanket.

You bit down on your breath.

His hand stayed where it was, warm and open against your stomach. Then his palm pressed a little firmer, holding you there like he had no intention of letting go.

You stared at the ceiling and did not move. Not because you couldn’t.

Because you didn’t want to.

You turned your head a fraction. His hair brushed your lips.

That was when Law woke.

His body went rigid against yours.

His hand did not move.

Neither did yours.

Your eyes stayed on the ceiling. His palm was still hot against your skin. His thigh was still between yours. His mouth was still too close to your throat.

You waited for him to pull away.

He didn’t.

His breath touched your neck once.

Twice.

Then, very carefully, his forehead lowered to your shoulder.

Your chest tightened.

“Law,” you whispered.

His voice came rough from sleep. “I know.”

Two words.

Quiet.

Heavy.

Not an apology. Not an explanation.

You did not know what to do with them.

His fingers flexed once, barely a movement at all. Your body reacted anyway, your stomach tightening under his hand before you could stop it.

Law felt it. His fingers stilled against you.

Then his hand flattened more carefully over your stomach, like he had realized exactly where it was and still could not make himself leave.

“I should move,” he said.

You closed your eyes.

“Are you going to?”

Silence.

His answer came so quietly you almost missed it.

“No.”

The word went through you slowly.

“Good,” you whispered.

Law exhaled against your shoulder.

His arm tightened around your waist, not by accident this time. His leg stayed where it was. His hand stayed under your shirt.

Deliberate.

Careful.

Still too much.

Not enough.

You covered his wrist with your hand.

Neither of you spoke for a while.

Eventually, because you were apparently determined to survive this by being difficult, you said, “You finished the chart?”

A pause.

Then, against your shoulder, dry and low, “That’s what you’re asking right now?”

“It was the agreement.”

“You fell asleep.”

“You were unsupervised. Anything could have happened.”

His breath moved against your skin in something almost like a laugh.

“Two charts,” he said.

“You said one.”

“You were asleep. I renegotiated.”

“That’s unethical.”

“I’m a pirate.”

You smiled.

Then his hand moved again.

His fingers slid a little farther across your stomach, slow enough that you knew he was awake for it this time.

Your smile faded.

Law’s mouth pressed once against your shoulder.

Brief.

Closed.

Controlled.

Then he went still, like he had not meant to do it.

You did not let go of his wrist.

“Law.”

His voice was low against your skin. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

He was quiet for a second. Then his hand tightened once beneath yours.

“Make me say something stupid.”

Your throat went dry.

You turned your head slightly toward him. “Like what?”

He did not answer right away.

His mouth brushed your shoulder again. Lighter this time. Almost accidental, except you both knew it was not.

“I sleep better with you there,” he said.

The words were so soft, so rough around the edges, that for a moment you thought you had imagined them.

You swallowed.

The joke rose first. Something easy. Something safe. You let it die.

Instead, you said, “Me too.”

Law went quiet against your shoulder.

Then his mouth moved lower, just enough to press against the skin near your collar.

His mouth stayed there for a second too long.

Then another.

Your fingers tightened over his.

His hand answered under your shirt.

The morning outside his room grew brighter.

You should get up. The crew would be moving soon. Someone would need him. Someone would come looking. The day would begin whether either of you were ready for it or not.

But not yet.

Not for one more minute.

You breathed in carefully.

Then out.

“I can come back tonight,” you said.

For a moment, the silence was so complete you could hear your own pulse.

Then his hand tightened under yours. “You don’t have to,” he said.

“I know.”

The answer took him a long time. When it came, his mouth brushed your shoulder.

“Yes.”

You closed your eyes.

Neither of you moved until footsteps passed in the corridor. Then Law lifted his head.

The loss of his warmth at your shoulder was immediate.

His hand slid out from under your shirt, careful now, almost too careful. You missed it before it was gone.

He rolled onto his back beside you and stared at the ceiling.

You did the same.

The space between you was narrow.

Not enough to pretend.

For one dangerous second, he looked like he might lean closer.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Both of you froze.

“Captain?” Shachi called from the hall. “You awake?”

Law closed his eyes. You pressed your lips together hard.

“Unfortunately,” Law said.

“You want breakfast?”

“No.”

“You sure? Bepo made rice.”

A pause.

You whispered, “You should eat.”

He turned his head just enough to look at you.

His expression was flat. His ears were still red.

“Don’t start.”

You smiled wider.

From the hall, Shachi said, “Was that a yes?”

Law looked back at the ceiling. “Yes,” he said, like the word pained him.

“Great. Also Penguin wants to know if—”

“No.”

“You didn’t hear the question.”

“No.”

Footsteps retreated down the hall.

The room quieted again.

You sat up first, smoothing your shirt with more attention than necessary.

Law’s eyes flicked to the movement.

Then away.

You pretended not to notice.

He sat up after you, one hand dragging over his face.

For once, he looked rested.

Actually rested.

The sight did something terrible to your chest.

You reached for your boots.

Behind you, Law said your name.

You stopped.

His voice was low. Careful. Still not looking at you.

“Tonight,” he said.

You looked back at him.

“Tonight,” you said.

His shoulders eased by a fraction.

Then he reached for his hat, put it on, and became your captain again.

[inseobts]

May I humbly request something for Sanji, Zoro, Buggy, Mihawk and Law (separately)

With an S/o who is trying to be a good contributing member of the crew. But has a chronic pain and numbness in their hands making it difficult to do, a lot of things like ship chores and fighting.

And s/o feels guilty for not being able to contribute/struggling to contribute as much as the others?

Hands That Matter

gn!reader

characters: sanji, zoro, buggy, mihawk, law

a/n: sorry for the wait! I tried to make them have all different but it was kinda hard to not repeat myself, but I still gave them different moods. also I hope I described the reader's feelings right (づ￣ 3￣)づ

word count: around 1.2k - 1.6k each

anime m.list || ao3 || ko-fi || requests list

── .✦ Sanji:

tags: established relationship, chronic pain, soft sanji, hurt/comfort, domestic moments, emotional talks, hand pain, caring sanji

Usopp and Luffy are yelling somewhere above deck. Nami is complaining about something being broken. Chopper laughs so hard you can hear it through the walls.

And you stand in the kitchen trying to hold a plate without dropping it.

Your fingers shake… again.

You tighten your grip, jaw clenching “Careful, love.”

A warm hand slides under yours before the plate slips. Sanji takes it easily.

You immediately pull your hand back “I had it.”

“Mhm.” He smiles softly “And I’m the Pirate King.”

You huff quietly.

He places the plate down and turns back to the stove. The kitchen smells warm. Garlic, butter, something sweet baking in the oven.

Usually the smell makes you happy.

Today it only makes your chest hurt.

“I can still help…” you mumble.

“You are helping.”

“I barely cut two carrots.”

“That’s still helping.”

You look down at your hands.

Your fingertips are numb again. That strange heavy feeling like your hands are asleep and aching at the same time.

You flex them and pain shoots through your wrists.

You hide it quickly but Sanji notices everything. His eyes flick toward you for one second.

“You should sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I said I’m fine.”

Silence.

Only the sound of oil sizzling in the pan.

You hate that tone in your own voice… sharp and angry, but not at him, never at him, mostly at yourself.

Sanji says nothing after that. He just moves around the kitchen calmly, cigarette hanging from his lips while he cooks for the crew like always.

Perfect movements.

Your eyes stay on his hands… strong hands. Fast hands. Hands that work.

You swallow hard.

“I can wash the dishes at least.” you say.

“You washed them yesterday.”

“And dropped three.”

“You dropped one.”

“It still broke.”

“So?” He shrugs “Franky breaks half the ship every week.”

“That’s not the same…”

He glances at you again and you look away first.

You move toward the sink before he can stop you. The plates are already stacked there.

You can do easy.

You grab the sponge, but the moment you squeeze it, pain burns through your palm so suddenly your breath catches.

The sponge slips right out of your hand.

Splash.

Water everywhere.

“Ah—shit.”

You try to grab it quickly, but your fingers refuse to close properly. The plate beside it tilts dangerously.

Sanji catches it before it falls, of course he does.

And suddenly your eyes burn.

“I’m sorry…” you whisper.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I can’t even do dishes right.” your voice cracks embarrassingly at the end.

You turn away fast.

Stupid.

You hate crying about this.

You hate the pity even more.

But Sanji doesn’t sound pitiful when he speaks… he sounds serious “Look at me.”

You don’t.

A chair scrapes softly against the floor.

Then he’s in front of you, looking at you carefully “Look at me, love.”

Slowly, you do.

His brows are slightly furrowed “You think I care about dishes?”

“No, but—”

“You think I want you here because you can scrub pans?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then tell me what you mean.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out, because the truth feels ugly.

Sanji waits patiently anyway.

Your throat tightens.

“I just…” you stare at the floor “Everyone does so much.”

“Hmm.”

“Luffy fights sea monsters like it’s nothing. Zoro trains until he bleeds. Nami handles navigation alone during storms. Usopp builds things. Franky fixes everything. Robin knows everything. Chopper is our doctor.”

You laugh weakly.

“And I can barely hold a knife some days.”

The kitchen goes quiet.

You expect him to answer immediately, but he actually doesn’t. He just moves closer and very gently, he takes your hands.

Even though you try to hide how stiff they are, his thumbs rub over your knuckles carefully.

“Does it hurt right now?” he asks softly.

You hesitate “…Yes.”

“Numb too?”

You nod.

“Since this morning?”

“Since yesterday.”

“And you still tried to help me cook breakfast.”

You shrug helplessly “I wanted to do something useful.”

Something flashes across his face, not anger at you, but something sadder “Oh, sweetheart.”

The nickname almost breaks you.

You look away again.

“I know everyone says it’s okay,” you whisper “but it doesn’t feel okay.”

Sanji stays quiet for a second, then he suddenly pulls you gently against his chest.

One hand cradles the back of your head while the other rubs your back slowly.

“You listen to me now.” he says quietly.

His voice is low and firm in that rare way he gets when he means every word.

“You’re part of this crew.”

You grip his shirt weakly.

“You hear me?”

“…Yeah.”

“No. Really hear me.” He leans back enough to look at you “You think being useful is the reason we love you?”

Your eyes widen slightly “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

You fall silent.

Sanji sighs softly “When Chopper gets sick, do we throw him overboard because he can’t work?”

“No.”

“When Zoro is half dead after a fight, do we tell him he’s lazy?”

“Of course not.”

“When Luffy can’t move after doing something stupid?”

“That happens every week.”

Sanji snorts quietly “Exactly.”

Despite yourself, a tiny laugh escapes you.

“There it is.” he murmurs.

Your face warms.

He brushes his thumb under your eye.

“You’re hurting,” he says simply “that’s not failure.”

“But I make things harder.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I can’t even help in fights.”

“And?” His brows pull together again “Do you think your only value is fighting?”

You hesitate “A little…”

“Absolutely not.” he says it immediately, strongly “You make this place softer.”

Your breath catches.

Sanji continues before you can answer.

“You stay with Chopper when he studies too late. You listen to Usopp’s stories even when they’re terrible lies.” he smiles faintly “You help Robin find books. You calm Luffy down sometimes, which is honestly a miracle.”

You blink rapidly.

“And me?” he says quietly “You help me too.”

“How?”

He gives you a look like the answer is obvious “You sit with me during late nights in the kitchen.”

Your chest aches.

“You taste every new recipe.”

“You cook those for everyone.”

“I still want your opinion.”

His fingers squeeze yours carefully “You remind me to rest.”

“You never rest.”

“Exactly. Someone has to tell me.”

Another tiny laugh escapes you.

Sanji smiles softly at the sound.

Then he lifts one of your hands carefully to his lips and kisses your knuckles, slowly, like your hands are something precious.

Not broken or useless.

“You do enough.” he whispers.

The words hit harder than you expect, because part of you still doesn’t believe them.

And maybe he sees that, because he suddenly tilts your chin upward gently.

“And even if you did nothing,” he says, “even if all you could do was sit here and breathe beside me, I would still want you here.”

Your eyes sting again immediately “Sanji…”

“I mean it.” his forehead rests against yours now “You don’t have to earn your place every single day.”

The tears finally spill over.

You hide your face against his chest with a frustrated sound.

“Ah, don’t cry…” he murmurs immediately, holding you tighter “Now I’ll cry too and the others will never let me live it down.”

You laugh weakly through tears.

“There you are.”

His hand rubs your back slowly.

After a while, your breathing finally calms.

“…I still hate it.” you admit quietly.

“I know.”

“I hate needing help.”

“I know that too.”

“And I hate feeling weak.”

Sanji hums thoughtfully. Then he gently pulls back just enough to look at you “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you’re strong as hell.”

You immediately shake your head “No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t even—”

“Love.” His voice softens again “You wake up hurting and still try every day.”

You go still.

“That sounds strong to me.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

Maybe because nobody ever says it like that.

Sanji smiles a little.

“Now.” He wipes under your eyes gently “Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not the doctor.”

“Temporary doctor’s orders.”

You snort.

“You sit right there.” he says pointing toward the small chair near the kitchen window.

“And what are you doing?”

“Cooking.”

“I should help.”

“You should rest.”

“But—”

He gives you a look… not angry, just stubborn. Very Sanji.

You sigh dramatically and sit down.

“Good.” He smiles again finally, softer now “That’s my sweetheart.”

You watch him move around the kitchen again.

Comfortable.

After a minute, he speaks without turning around “Can you do something for me though?”

Your shoulders tense immediately “What?”

“Tell me if the sauce needs more salt.”

You blink “That’s it?”

“That’s a very important job.”

A small smile pulls at your mouth.

Sanji glances over his shoulder and catches it immediately “There’s the smile I like.”

He brings over the spoon carefully.

You taste the sauce. Warm. Rich. A little spicy.

“It needs more pepper.”

Sanji gasps dramatically “Perfect. I trained you well.”

He bends over and leaves a soft kiss on your lips before moving back to the kitchen.

You laugh again, more real this time.

And somehow, sitting there while he cooks beside you, the guilt feels quieter.

Not gone maybe, but quieter.

Sanji notices that too as he smiles softly to himself before turning back to the stove.

“See?” he says gently, winking at you “Always helping the chef.”

── .✦ Zoro:

tags: established relationship, comfort, chronic pain, emotional support, soft zoro, insecurity, hurt/comfort

The Sunny rocks softly under the afternoon sun.

You grip the broom tighter.

Bad idea.

Pain shoots through your fingers immediately. Your hands feel numb in some places, burning in others. You try to ignore it and keep sweeping.

“You missed a spot.”

You look up and see Nami pointing near the stairs with her pen.

“Oh—yeah. Thank you.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You smile quickly “Just tired.”

She watches you for a second longer before walking away.

The second she leaves, you shake your hands behind your back.

It hurts.

Again…

Later, everyone eats lunch together.

Luffy is stealing meat from everyone’s plates.

Sanji is yelling “LUFFY! STOP TOUCHING THE FOOD!”

“I’m hungry!”

“You already ate three plates!”

“I’m still hungry!”

Basically the usual.

Across the table, Zoro drinks quietly.

You glance at him and he notices immediately.

He watches you with a questioning expression on his face and says “You’re staring.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That face means trouble.”

You laugh softly, making him smirk.

Then his eye move lower to your hands.

You pull them under the table immediately, which makes his expression change a little.

That evening, you find him training on deck. Weights. Swords. Sweat.

Normal Zoro things.

You stand nearby awkwardly “Can I train with you?”

He pauses “You trained yesterday.”

“I know.”

“And the day before.”

“I know.”

“And you could barely hold the practice sword after.”

You force a laugh “I’ll get better.”

He studies you carefully “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Big lie… but you hate saying no. You hate sitting around while everyone works.

Everyone has something.

Nami navigates.

Sanji cooks.

Usopp fixes things.

Chopper heals people.

Robin researches.

Franky builds.

Brook plays music.

Jinbe steers.

Zoro fights.

And you… you struggle to even hold a mop some days.

So you keep trying, even when your hands shake, even when your fingers go numb, and even when you wake up at night because pain crawls up your wrists.

You keep trying because if you stop, what are you useful for?

“Again.” Zoro blocks your attack easily.

Your wrists hurt already.

You tighten your grip at your best and then swing again.

He blocks again “You’re too tense.”

“I’m fine.”

“You say that every five minutes.”

“I am fine.”

Your fingers suddenly lose strength and the sword slips.

You freeze.

Your hand tingles painfully.

Zoro looks down at the fallen sword, then at you.

You quickly bend down to grab it, but pain shoots through your wrist so hard you suck in a breath.

But he already heard that “You’re hurt.”

“No.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re terrible at lying.”

“I said I’m fine!”

Your voice comes out sharper than you mean.

The deck goes quiet, even the wind feels still.

Zoro stares at you, then he sighs “Come sit.”

“I don’t need—”

“Sit.”

You hate how weirdly gentle his voice sounds… it makes your chest hurt.

You sit down near the railing while he puts the practice swords away.

For a while, neither of you talks.

Then he sits beside you.

“You’ve been hiding it.”

You stare at the ocean “Hiding what?”

“The pain.”

You shrug “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to you.”

You laugh weakly “Not really.”

“You can barely hold things some days.”

Your throat tightens.

“I can still do stuff.”

“I know.”

“I just…” You swallow hard “I’m slower.”

Zoro says nothing.

“And everyone else does so much…” you continue quietly “I can’t even finish basic chores without messing up.”

“You don’t mess up.”

“I do…”

“You don’t.”

“I do.” you repeat, louder this time “I can’t scrub the deck long enough. I drop things. My hands stop working in fights. Sometimes they go numb for hours.” your voice shakes “I’m supposed to help the crew.”

“You do help.”

“How?”

The question comes out too fast and too honest.

You immediately regret it, but Zoro doesn’t get angry.

He leans back against the railing “You think helping only means fighting and chores?”

“I mean… yeah? In a pirate crew, yeah.”

“That’s stupid.”

You blink “That’s rude.”

“It’s true.”

You glare at him weakly.

He continues anyway “When Chopper patches us up after the smallest cut, is that useless?”

“No.”

“When Brook plays music or makes you all laugh after bad days?”

“No.”

“When Luffy drags us into trouble and somehow makes people free?”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

You open your mouth and close it again.

Zoro looks toward the sea “You stay awake with people when they can’t sleep.”

You blink.

“You listen when someone’s upset.”

You stare at him.

“You remember small things.” he says “Like how Chopper likes compliments. Or how Usopp gets nervous before fights and what calms him down.”

Heat rises to your face and say “That’s not important.”

“It is.”

“It’s not enough.”

Zoro goes quiet for a moment, then suddenly snorts “You know? I don’t like using him as an example, but even the weird eyebrows man never uses his hands to fight.”

You stare at him “…Sanji?”

“Unfortunately.”

A small laugh escapes you.

Zoro points at your hands “There are other ways to fight.”

“I can’t exactly kick like him.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But—”

“Even I use my mouth for a sword.”

You blink again “That… sounds weird when you say it out loud.”

“It works, doesn’t it?”

You laugh despite yourself.

“There’s more than one way to help people. More than one way to fight.” He looks directly at you now “You keep trying to force yourself into something that hurts you.”

Your eyes sting suddenly “I just don’t want to be dead weight.”

His expression hardens immediately “You are not dead weight.”

The words come fast, strong and certain.

“You hear me?”

You look away quickly.

“You belong here.” he says quietly now “With us. With… me.”

Your chest aches painfully, in that overwhelming kind of way that isn't always bad.

“You noticed all that?” you ask softly.

“Obviously.”

“I thought I hid it well.”

“You hide it terribly.”

You groan “Great.”

“You flex your fingers every ten seconds.”

“…Oh.”

“And you make this face.”

“What face?”

“This one.” he copies your annoyed expression badly.

You stare at him “That looks nothing like me.”

“It does.”

“You look constipated.”

“Tch.”

Now, that makes you finally laugh… a real laugh this time.

Zoro watches you carefully afterward, like he’s checking if the sadness is still there.

And it is, but lighter now.

“You really think there are other ways?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah.”

“What if I still can’t do enough?”

“You don’t decide that alone.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means the crew already wants you here.”

Your eyes widen slightly.

“And I want you here…” he adds.

The softness in his voice nearly kills you but his red ears are so cute.

You stare at him for a long moment, then suddenly lean forward and kiss him.

Zoro makes a surprised sound against your lips.

Then one hand moves carefully to your waist, pulling you closer in a gentle push. Always gentler than people expect from him.

The kiss is warm and slow, feeling close and safe.

When you pull back, your face feels hot.

“That was a thank you.” you mumble.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“You can thank me again if you want.”

You snort loudly “There’s the idiot swordsman again.”

“And there’s the smiley you.”

You lean against his shoulder.

Finally, you don't feel guilty about all this.

── .✦ Buggy:

tags: established relationship, chronic pain, insecurity, comfort, subtle care, emotional hurt/comfort

The ship rocks hard under your feet as someone on deck is screaming again.

“WHO TOOK MY FUCKING CAPE?!”

You close your eyes “…There he is.”

One of the crew points quickly “Captain Buggy, Mohji used it to cover the cannon!”

“WHAT?!”

You hear stomping, loud crashing and then a man screaming in fear.

Then Buggy’s voice again “YOU USED MY CAPE FOR A CANNON?! ARE YOU INSANE?!”

You smile a little despite yourself, because your hands ache badly, today too.

The numbness started this morning before sunrise and it crawled from your fingertips to your wrists until even holding a spoon felt strange… like your hands belonged to someone else.

You flex your fingers slowly, pain shoots up your arm “…Ow.”

You hide the sound quickly.

You still have work.

Everyone on this ship works.

Even if Buggy acts dramatic and lazy sometimes, the crew still moves because people do their jobs.

You want to do yours too.

You grab the rope beside you and start tying down the supply crates before the weather gets worse.

Your fingers slip immediately “Damn it.”

You try again but the knot comes loose.

You try again and again and again.

Your jaw tightens “Come on…”

You can fight through pain, usually… but numbness is worse. It makes your hands stupid.

You try pulling harder.

A sharp sting suddenly burns through your palm and your fingers give out completely. The rope falls.

“Shit—”

“Why are you doing that?”

You jump.

Buggy stands behind you with his arms crossed.

“You’re gonna tie the crates like that?” he asks.

“I can do it.”

“Yeah? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re fighting a rope and losing.”

“I said I can do it.”

Buggy narrows his eyes.

You hate that look… that careful one. The one that says he noticed something is off.

“I’m fine.” you add quickly.

“Uh-huh.”

“I am.”

“Sure.”

You glare “Why are you even here?”

“Because this is my ship.”

“You were screaming about your cape two seconds ago.”

“That’s different. That was important.”

You snort softly.

Buggy walks closer and grabs the rope from your hands and says “I’ve got it.”

“No, give it back.”

“Why?”

“Because I should help.”

“You are helping.”

“How?”

“You’re standing there looking pretty and keeping morale up.”

“That’s not real work.”

Buggy starts tying the knot quickly “Well, good thing I, the captain, didn’t ask.”

You cross your arms.

The ache in your hands pulses harder now from trying too much.

Buggy notices you rubbing your fingers, but he says nothing, and for you, that somehow feels worse.

Later, the crew gathers for lunch.

You sit beside Buggy while everyone argues over portions.

Cabaji points across the table “Captain, they’re taking extra meat again!”

“I CAN SEE THAT!”

“It was one piece!” someone shouts.

“THAT’S STILL THEFT!”

You try picking up your cup but your fingers twitch halfway there and the cup slips.

Buggy catches it before it falls, fast.

Nobody else even notices.

“Careful,” he says loudly “you break my cups, you buy new ones.”

You stare at him “…Thanks.”

“Tch. Don’t get emotional.”

He pushes the cup back toward you more carefully this time.

Under the table, his foot bumps yours once, soft, as if he’s checking you’re okay.

You look down quickly before anyone sees your face.

That night, the pain gets worse.

Rain hits the ship hard. Wind screams outside your room.

You sit on the edge of the bed trying to wrap your wrists tighter. Maybe if you press hard enough, your hands will listen again.

You hiss quietly.

The door opens.

Buggy walks in carrying a plate “What are you doing sitting in the dark like some tragic widow?”

You blink “What?”

“I brought food.”

“I can see that.”

“Well don’t sound too grateful.”

He puts the plate beside you.

You stare at it “…I wasn’t hungry.”

“Yeah, because pain does that.” he shrugs “Eat anyway.”

You freeze.

Buggy starts taking off his coat like he said nothing strange.

“You didn’t have to—”

“I know.”

Silence fills the room for a moment except for the storm outside.

You look down at your hands again “I hate this.”

Buggy pauses “Hate what?”

“This.” You flex your fingers weakly “I can’t do basic things some days.”

“So?”

“So I’m supposed to help!”

“You do help.”

“How? I can barely hold a cup lately.”

Buggy scoffs loudly “Please. Half my crew can barely hold conversations.”

“That’s not the point.”

You stand suddenly and start pacing “I can’t fight right. I drop things. I mess up knots. I slow people down—”

“You don’t slow me down.”

“You help me constantly!”

“Oh no.” Buggy says flatly “How horrible. Helping my partner. Truly devastating.”

“Buggy.”

“What?”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You stop moving.

He looks at you. No jokes. No yelling. Just sharp eyes watching carefully.

“You think I keep you around because you can fight?” he asks.

“I mean… it helped.”

“That’s stupid.”

You blink.

Buggy points at you dramatically “You think I, the great Captain Buggy, only values people for strength? Look at my crew! Half these idiots eat soap if nobody stops them!”

A crash sounds outside.

Someone yells, “IT WASN’T SOAP!”

Buggy shouts toward the door, “YES IT WAS!”

Then he looks back at you again as his voice lowers “You’re with me because I want you here.”

Your chest hurts suddenly, but different from before.

“You don’t get it,” you whisper “I feel useless.”

Buggy groans loudly like the conversation annoys him.

Then he walks over to say “You know what I think is useless?”

“What?”

“You sitting here hurting yourself because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”

You look away “I don’t want people treating me differently.”

“Good. Because they won’t.” Buggy crouches in front of you “But I will.”

You blink again “What does that mean?”

“It means,” he says slowly, “and please don’t make me repeat it, that I’ll help before you ask. And I’ll make it look natural so nobody bothers you about it.”

You stare “…You already do that.”

Buggy freezes for half a second, then immediately points at you “HAH! So you noticed!”

“You’re not subtle.”

“I’m extremely subtle.”

“You literally steal things from my hands when they hurt.”

“That’s called romance.”

Despite everything, you laugh, small and tired, but real.

Buggy watches your face carefully after the sound leaves you, like he missed hearing it.

“Tch.” he mutters “There it is.”

“What?”

“That annoying laugh.”

“You like my laugh.”

“I never said that.”

“You smile every time.”

“I do NOT.”

“You’re smiling right now.”

“I’m just naturally charming.”

You laugh again.

Buggy’s shoulders loosen slightly, then he grabs your wrists carefully.

“You’re warm.” he says.

“My hands always are when they hurt.”

“…Does it feel bad now?”

“A little.”

He rubs circles into your wrists with his thumbs, awkwardly. Like he refuses to admit he learned how to help properly.

“You don’t have to fix everything alone.” he mutters.

You look at him quietly and admit “For someone who screams all day, you say really nice things sometimes.”

“Don’t spread that around.”

“Your reputation?”

“Exactly.”

You smile softly.

Buggy notices immediately and squints at you suspiciously “What?”

“You’re being cute.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“It is.”

The storm outside gets louder, but inside the room, it feels strangely calm.

Buggy keeps rubbing your wrists.

You finally whisper, “I’m scared sometimes.”

He goes still “Of what?”

“That one day I won’t be able to do anything useful.”

Buggy clicks his tongue “Then you can sit next to me and insult people professionally.”

“That’s your job.”

“I can share… with you.”

You smile weakly.

“But really,” you say, quieter now, “what if I become a burden?”

Buggy’s expression changes immediately, sharp and obviously offended “Don’t say that.”

You blink at the sudden tone.

“I mean it.” he says “Don’t call yourself that.”

“…Sorry.”

“Tch.”

He stands up fast and pulls you with him.

Before you can react, his arms wrap around you tightly, not graceful and not elegant at all, just very Buggy style.

“You’re an idiot sometimes.” he mutters against your hair.

“You say that lovingly.”

“I say it truthfully.”

You relax slowly against him.

His chin rests on your head.

Outside, thunder cracks loudly.

Buggy squeezes you once more and then he pulls back enough to look at your face “You done being dramatic now?”

“You’re literally hugging me.”

“That’s unrelated.”

You snort softly.

His eyes flick down to your mouth for one quick second, then away immediately.

“…What?” you ask.

“Nothing.,,”

“You made a face.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

Buggy groans like this is exhausting, then suddenly grabs your jaw dramatically and say “Fine! Since you clearly require attention—”

He kisses you, fast at first, almost clumsy. Then softer when you lean closer. 

His gloves brush your cheeks carefully.

You melt a little against him.

Buggy huffs quietly into the kiss.

When he pulls away, his face is slightly red under the makeup.

“You better not get all emotional about that now.” he says immediately.

“Too late.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

You grin.

Buggy rolls his eyes dramatically, but he kisses your forehead anyway before pulling you back against his chest.

── .✦ Mihawk:

tags: established relationship, chronic pain, guilt, comfort, quiet intimacy, soft mihawk, domestic moments, emotional hurt/comfort

The knife slips from your fingers again.

It doesn't fall far, it falls onto the wooden table with a dull clack and your shoulders tense instantly.

You stare at your numb hand… again.

The feeling comes and goes every day. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes your fingers feel heavy like stone. Sometimes you cannot even tell if you're holding something until it drops.

Today is one of the bad days.

You flex your hand slowly “Damn it…”

Across the kitchen, Dracule Mihawk looks up from the book in his hand.

His eyes move from your face to the knife “You are pushing yourself again.”

“I’m fine.”

“You dropped it three times.”

You hate that he notices everything.

You grab the knife again before he can stand up “I said I’m fine.”

Mihawk closes his book with one quiet motion.

The sound alone makes you nervous.

Not because he's angry, Mihawk rarely raises his voice and that almost makes it worse somehow. His silence always sees too much.

He walks toward you slowly “Give me the knife.”

“I can still cut vegetables.”

“You can barely hold the handle.”

Your jaw tightens “I’m trying to help.”

“And I didn’t say otherwise.”

“But you’re doing everything lately.”

“That’s incorrect.”

“You know what I mean.”

Mihawk studies your face for a long moment, in a calm and sharp way “You're in pain today.”

You look away first “…It’s not worse than normal.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The numbness crawls higher into your wrist. You hate it and so you hate your own body. Hate the stupid weakness in your fingers. You used to fight beside him. Not at his level, obviously, nobody is at his level, but enough to stand proudly beside him.

Now even holding a teacup too long hurts.

You laugh quietly, bitterly “Some good partner I am.”

Mihawk’s expression changes slightly but enough that most people would miss it… you don’t.

“You think your worth depends on what you can carry with your hands?”

“It should depend on something.”

“It does.”

“Like what?”

“You're here.”

You blink “That’s not enough.”

“For you, maybe.”

“Mihawk…”

“You speak as though I chose you for labor.”

His voice stays even, deep and calm.

“But I can’t fight properly anymore.”

“You still can.”

“Not like before.”

“No,” he agrees immediately “not like before.”

The honesty hurts more than pity would.

You pull your hand back against your chest “See?”

Mihawk sighs softly through his nose.

“You continue to measure yourself against impossible standards.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

That actually earns the faintest look of amusement.

“Yes. Perhaps.”

You lean against the counter, exhausted already.

“I just…” You swallow hard “I hate needing help.”

“You have needed help since the day we met.”

The memory flashes immediately. You trying to hide shaking hands while wrapping a wound. Mihawk silently taking the bandages from you without a word. The first time he held a cup near your lips because your fingers stopped cooperating halfway through dinner.

He always knew. Always.

And somehow that makes the guilt worse.

“I thought maybe if I worked harder…” you mumble.

“To accomplish what?”

“To stop being a burden.”

Silence.

You shouldn't have said that.

Mihawk steps closer.

His voice lowers “Never say that about yourself again.”

The words are quiet, but firm enough to cut stone.

You stare at him.

“You think caring for you is a burden?”

“I mean—”

“You think I am forced into it?”

“No…”

“Then don't insult my choices.”

You look down quickly “…Sorry.”

Another silence.

Then you feel leather gloves brush lightly against your wrist.

Mihawk lifts your hand carefully, like he already knows exactly where it hurts.

“Where is the numbness?”

“Mostly fingers. Wrist too.”

“And pain?”

“Everywhere.”

“Hm.”

You almost laugh tiredly “Very helpful answer, I know.”

“It's accurate.”

His thumb presses lightly against your palm. Testing.

You flinch and his eyes narrow immediately and he asks “That bad?”

“It’ll pass.”

“You say that often.”

Because it usually does… sometimes.

You watch him remove his gloves one finger at a time before setting them aside.

Then he reaches for the kettle.

“I can still make tea myself.”

“I'm aware.”

“Then why are you—”

“Sit down.”

“…You sound like a doctor.”

“You would ignore one of those as well.”

You mutter something under your breath.

“I heard that.”

“I know.”

You finally sit at the table while Mihawk moves around the kitchen with smooth, easy motions. Precise and controlled like always.

He never rushes.

“You don’t get annoyed?” you ask quietly.

“At what?”

“At me struggling all the time.”

“No.”

“But doesn’t it get tiring?”

Mihawk pours hot water into a cup “Yes.”

Your chest sinks immediately.

Then he continues calmly “Pain is tiring. Watching someone you care for hurt is tiring. That doesn't mean I resent you.”

You stare at the table “I can’t even hold my sword properly some days.”

“You're grieving.”

The words hit harder than expected “What?”

“You speak as though you lost nothing.”

Mihawk sets the cup in front of you carefully.

“But you did.”

You look up slowly.

“You lost ease. Strength. Freedom. Certainty in your own body.” His gaze stays on you “Yet you expect yourself to feel nothing about it.”

Your throat tightens painfully.

Nobody says things like that to you.

Most people tell you to stay positive, to try harder or to be grateful it isn't worse.

Mihawk never lies to make things easier, and somehow that comforts you more.

“I’m tired…” you admit quietly.

“I know.”

“I hate feeling useless.”

“You aren't useless.”

“I can’t even help around the castle without messing up.”

“You help me every day.”

“How?”

“You listen.”

You blink.

“You stay.”

Another answer comes before you can speak.

“You make this place feel inhabited instead of empty.”

Your face warms immediately “Mihawk…”

“And,” he says calmly, “your presence discourages idiots from interrupting my evenings.”

You laugh despite yourself “There it is.”

“There what is?”

“The romantic talk.”

A faint smirk touches his mouth “Don’t become spoiled now.”

You wrap your hands carefully around the warm cup. Heat helps sometimes.

MMihawk watches your grip for a moment, then he asks“Have you practiced the stretches I showed you?”

“…Sometimes.”

“You forgot.”

“Maybe.”

“Hm.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I am.”

You groan softly “I knew you were going to say that.”

“You injure yourself further by ignoring limits.”

“I’m trying not to have limits.”

“That's foolish.”

You glare at him weakly “You’re supposed to encourage me.”

“I am encouraging you… to use your brain.”

You snort into your tea.

The room grows quieter after that, but a comfortable quiet. Rain taps lightly against the castle windows.

Mihawk sits across from you again with his wine.

You watch him for a while.

“How are you so patient with me?”

“I’m not patient.”

“You are with me.”

“That’s different.”

The answer comes too fast to be accidental.

Something soft pulls painfully in your chest.

You look at your hands again “They’re ugly lately.”

Mihawk immediately looks irritated “Your hands.”

“The swelling’s worse.”

“They’re hands.”

“You know what I mean.”

“They’re yours.”

He says it like that settles everything and maybe to him, it does.

You laugh quietly again “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you remain here.”

“Unfortunately.”

“How tragic.”

You smile into your tea.

Then the numbness suddenly spikes sharply through your fingers.

You hiss softly.

Mihawk is beside you immediately and says “Show me.”

“It’s fine.”

“Show me.”

You hold out your hand reluctantly.

He takes it carefully between both of his larger hands.

His thumbs move slowly across your knuckles, with a gentle pressure.

“You should rest.”

“I rested yesterday.”

“You rested poorly yesterday.”

“…You notice too much.”

“Yes.”

His fingers continue massaging your hand slowly and it kinda helps, but not enough to remove the pain completely. Nothing ever does. But at least it’s enough to loosen the tightness in your chest.

“You know,” you mumble, “most people would leave.”

Mihawk looks genuinely unimpressed “I’m not most people.”

“I know.”

“Then stop speaking as though I’m temporary.”

Your eyes sting unexpectedly.

That’s the problem with him. Mihawk doesn’t speak gently often, or at least not so obvious, but when he does, every word lands directly inside your ribs.

You look at him quietly. At the sharp golden eyes, at his calm face… at the man feared across entire seas sitting here massaging your aching hands without complaint.

“You really don’t mind?”

“No.”

“Even when I can’t do things?”

“Yes.”

“Even when I get frustrated?”

“I expect it.”

“Even when I’m difficult?”

One eyebrow lifts slightly “You’re frequently difficult.”

You gasp softly in fake offense.

“But yes.”

You shake your head with a tiny laugh.

“You’re terrible at comfort.”

“And yet you’re calmer now.”

“…Damn it.”

That tiny almost-smile appears again.

Victory.

You stare at him for another quiet moment before speaking softly.

“Thank you.”

Mihawk pauses, then he nods once “You don’t need to thank me for loving you.”

Your breath catches immediately, because he just said it so simply, like it’s a fact. No embarrassment and no hesitation, and that makes it feel even more real.

You stand slowly from the chair.

Mihawk watches you carefully in case your hands fail again.

But instead, you step closer until you are standing between his knees.

His gaze lifts toward you “What are you doing?”

“You said something nice.”

“A rare mistake.”

“So I’m rewarding you.”

“Hm.”

You place your hands lightly against his chest and he just lets you.

Then you lean down and kiss him softly and slowly.

Mihawk goes still for half a second before one hand settles against your waist.

His thumb brushes once against your side while he kisses you back with quiet restraint, controlled like everything else about him… but warm… always warmer than people expect.

When you pull back, he looks at you silently for a moment.

Then he says “You’re smiling.”

“You noticed?”

“I notice everything.”

You kiss the corner of his mouth quickly this time and tell him “That’s annoying.”

“And yet,” he murmurs, eyes softer now, “you continue to stay.”

── .✦ Law:

tags: established relationship, chronic pain, guilt, comfort, soft law, domestic moments, emotional hurt/comfort

Your hands hurt.

Not enough to stop functioning completely and not enough to count as an emergency. 

Just enough to make every small thing irritating and exhausting and humiliating if you think about it too long.

Today, unfortunately, you keep thinking about it.

You stand in the kitchen of the Polar Tang staring at the container in your hands, jaw tight as you try twisting the lid open again.

Nothing.

Your fingers slip as pain sparks through your wrist.

You grit your teeth and try again anyway, but the lid doesn’t move.

God, this is stupid.

Behind you, the crew is loud as usual… Shachi laughing too hard at his own joke, Penguin arguing back, Bepo trying unsuccessfully to calm them down before Law inevitably tells everyone to shut up.

Normal.

Everything feels normal except for you.

You finally force the lid open using the edge of the counter, but the motion sends a sharp ache through your palm that makes you hiss quietly.

And for some reason, the fact that something this easy has to become a whole ordeal every single time, makes your chest feel tight suddenly.

You set the container down harder than intended and stare at your hands.

The numbness comes in waves today. 

Fingertips tingling, grip weakening without warning, joints stiff and sore like your body is punishing you for existing in it.

You hate it and you hate that everyone else can move without thinking about it.

You hate that you have to calculate every little task.

You hate needing help.

Most of all, you hate that you’re used to it now.

“You’re glaring at the counter.”

Law’s voice makes you jump slightly.

You look over your shoulder.

He stands in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable beneath the brim of his hat.

“…I’m fine.” you say automatically.

“Hm.”

That hum means liar.

He watches you for another second before his eyes drop to your hands.

Your fingers curl instinctively.

Law notices that too, of course “You’re hurting.”

It isn’t a question.

You look away “It’s manageable.”

“That bad, then.”

“I said manageable.”

“And I said that’s bad.”

His voice stays calm, flat, irritatingly perceptive.

You exhale sharply through your nose and lean back against the counter “I’m just tired today.”

Law walks into the kitchen quietly, stopping in front of you “Tired physically or mentally?”

You laugh once without humor “Guess.”

His gaze stays on you long enough that your throat starts tightening.

You hate that he can read you this easily and you hate that part of you is relieved by it too.

“I can’t do anything right today.” you mutter finally.

“That’s not true.”

“I almost lost grip on my weapon yesterday.”

“You still hit your target.”

“Ikkaku had to finish maintenance for me.”

“Because your hands were locking up.”

“I can’t even open containers normally half the time…”

“So?”

The word catches you off guard.

You blink at him.

Law’s expression barely changes, but there’s something firmer in his tone now.

“So,” he repeats, “you adapt. Or someone helps you. That’s not a moral failure.”

“It feels like one.”

Silence settles heavily between you while the submarine hums around you softly.

You stare at your hands again.

“I just feel useless sometimes…” you admit quietly “everyone else contributes so much more than me.”

Law’s eyes narrow slightly “You think your value to this crew depends entirely on physical ability?”

“No, but—”

“No,” he interrupts flatly “you don’t get to ‘but’ your way out of this one.”

Despite yourself, your mouth twitches weakly.

Law steps closer.

“You help Bepo study navigation routes because he gets overwhelmed reading maps.” he says “You reorganized the medical storage because none of these idiots know how to put things back correctly. You stay up repairing clothes and equipment even when your hands hurt.”

“That’s small stuff.”

“It still matters.”

You swallow hard “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Law goes quiet, then he sighs softly through his nose and reaches for your hands “Give me these.”

You let him take them without protest.

His fingers are warm around yours, steady and careful as he turns your hands over in his grip. He presses gently along your palms and wrists, thumbs working against the sore muscles like he already knows exactly where it hurts most.

Because he does know… he always does.

“You’ve been overusing them.” he mutters.

“I know.”

“You compensate when they start going numb.” His thumbs press into the base of your palm, easing some of the ache immediately “That strains everything else.”

You watch his face while he works, focused and quiet. Slightly annoyed in the way he always gets when he cares too much about something.

“You notice everything.” you mumble.

“I’m a doctor and captain.”

“You’re nosy.”

“Hm.”

The corner of his mouth twitches faintly.

Your chest aches but not in a bad way.

You suddenly feel exhausted all over again.

“I hate this…” you whisper.

Law’s hands still for half a second “I know.”

The simple honesty in it almost breaks you.

No forced positivity and no pretending it’s easy. Just understanding.

Your eyes sting embarrassingly fast.

Law notices immediately, because of course he does.

“You’re thinking too much again.” he says quietly.

“I can’t help it.”

“You can.” his thumbs resume their slow movements against your hands “You just don’t know how to stop.”

You laugh weakly “Amazing diagnosis, doctor.”

“I’m very talented.”

That actually earns a real laugh from you this time, and there it is that tiny shift in his expression when he hears it, small enough most people would miss it entirely.

You don’t, you know Law too well for that.

Warmth blooms slowly in your chest, soft and aching and without thinking too hard about it, you step closer and reach up to grab his face.

Your fingers fumble slightly against his cheeks from the numbness.

Law lets you reposition your hands without a single complaint.

Then you kiss him right on the mouth, slow and warm.

He exhales softly through his nose, surprised for only a second before one hand slides automatically to your waist.

When you pull back, you kiss his cheek… then under his eye, then the corner of his jaw.

“You’re being weird.” he mutters.

“You’re nice to me.”

“I’m literally treating your symptoms.”

“You’re holding me.”

“That’s unrelated.”

You laugh quietly against his skin before kissing his forehead.

Law sighs like you are personally exhausting him, but his grip on your waist tightens slightly.

“You know,” you murmur between kisses, “you’re really bad at pretending you don’t like affection.”

“I don’t like affection.”

“Mhm, sure.”

You kiss his nose. Then beneath his lip. Then his temple.

Law’s ears start turning faintly pink beneath the brim of his hat.

Victory.

“You’re annoying.” he grumbles.

“But you love me.”

He goes silent for one fatal second too long, making you grin immediately.

“There it is.”

“Shut up.”

“No.”

You kiss him again before he can argue further, softer this time, lingering long enough to feel the way he melts despite himself.

Law’s hand slides from your waist to the back of your neck, fingers warm against your skin.

When you pull away again, he rests his forehead lightly against yours with a quiet sigh.

“You done?” he asks.

“Not even close.”

He gives you a deeply unimpressed look that loses all effectiveness when you kiss both his cheeks in quick succession.

“You’re clingy now.”

“I’m having a bad day and you’re my cure.”

“Hm.”

That stupid soft hum again.

You smile a little and then you say softly “You know? You’re a good doctor and a good captain… but you’re also a perfect partner. I love you a lot.”

Law rubs his thumb slowly along the side of your neck while looking at you with that quiet, intense focus he gets sometimes, the one that always feels like he’s paying attention to every tiny detail about you at once.

“Then… for that, don’t forget you don’t have to prove you’re useful to deserve being here.” he says quietly.

Your chest tightens.

Even now, hearing that from him feels overwhelming.

You lean forward and kiss him one more time, gentler now.

Law lets you… of course he does.

Then, after a second, he presses a small kiss back against your mouth so quickly you almost think you imagined it.

“…Don’t look so smug.” he mutters immediately.

Too late.

[acrimson-embrace]

Ficlet: I Love You

Plot: Law comes to terms with how he feels.

Trafalgar D. Law x Reader

You were asleep now.

Drugged enough not to feel the pain. Pale enough that he still hated looking at you and could not stop.

Law sat in the chair beside the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, one hand covering his mouth. His hat sat on the counter behind him.

Stupid. Reckless. Necessary, maybe, but still stupid. You had moved before he could. Taken the hit meant for one of his crew. Gone down hard enough that the sound of your body hitting the deck had cut through the fight worse than any blade.

For one second, Law had forgotten how to breathe.

That was the problem.

Not the injury. Not the stitches. Not the blood.

That one second.

The empty, bottomless second where he had thought, No.

Not her.

He looked at you now, at the slow rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re a problem,” he said quietly.

Law leaned forward.

He should leave and do something useful before he started overthinking.

Instead, he reached out and touched two fingers against your wrist, checking your pulse for the tenth time in an hour.

Steady.

Alive.

His eyes closed.

The words came before he could stop them, dragged out of some place he had spent years sealing shut.

“I love you.”

They were barely sound.

A confession made to the dark. To a sleeping patient. To a room that could not accuse him of weakness.

Law opened his eyes again, furious with himself.

You slept on.

No teasing smile. No soft little “Captain?” that would force him to stand there and explain what he had no intention of explaining.

He let out a quiet breath.

Then, because fear had already ruined him once tonight, he lowered his mouth to the back of your hand.

“I love you,” he whispered again, rougher this time.

Your fingers twitched faintly against his.

Law froze.

For one awful second, he thought you had woken.

But your eyes remained closed. Your breathing stayed even.

Your hand curled weakly around two of his fingers.

Law stared at it.

Then he bowed his head. “Don’t do that again,” he said quietly.

You did not hear him.

That was safest.

That was worse.

[acrimson-embrace]

Drunken Scenarios — Law

Read Shanks | Read Mihawk

Law did not get drunk.

He drank slowly. Watched his glass. Counted his limits the way he counted exits.

But tonight, his eyes were a little heavier when they found you across the table.

You noticed on the third look.

By the fifth, your skin felt warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the bar.

“You’re staring,” you said.

Law leaned back in his seat, one arm stretched along the booth behind him. His glass rested in his other hand.

“No, I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Then stop looking back.”

Your breath caught before you could help it.

He saw.

The noise around you blurred into clinking glasses and laughter from the crew. Bepo was half-asleep against Penguin’s shoulder. Shachi was loudly losing at cards. No one was paying attention.

Except Law.

He set his glass down and tilted his head toward the empty space beside him.

“Come here.”

Your stomach dipped.

“Why?”

His eyes dragged over your face, slow enough to be deliberate. “You ask too many questions.”

“And you give terrible answers.”

That almost-smile came back. Softer this time. More dangerous.

“Come here,” he repeated.

You should have argued. You were good at arguing with him.

Instead, you slid out of your seat and crossed to his side of the booth.

Law caught your wrist before you could sit. His hand slid down until his fingers threaded loosely through yours.

“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said.

“I have not.”

“You have.” His voice was low. Rougher than usual at the edges.

You swallowed. “Maybe you’re imagining things.”

Law tugged once, and you practically fell into the spot beside him.

“Easy there,” he said, steadying you with one hand at your waist. “Don’t make me catch you twice.”

It had to be the alcohol.

Yours, maybe. His, maybe.

Maybe neither.

“I don’t imagine things.”

“No?”

“No.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth.

Then back to your eyes.

The room suddenly felt too small.

“You’re tipsy,” you whispered.

“Maybe.”

Your heart kicked. For a second, neither of you moved.

Then his fingers loosened to give you the choice to pull away.

You didn’t.

Law noticed that too.

His mouth tilted.

“Good girl,” he said quietly.

[arixella]

Imagine the monster trio (or Law) with the reader one day, they went to move their hand or reach for something, and she flinches (of course, she knows they love her and will never hurt her) in the first thing they ask her was "who hurt you?"

When reader flinches and their partner immediately says "who hurt you?" ft. monster trio + Law (gn! reader)

wc: 930 a/n: none

Monkey D. Luffy

-You flinch when he throws an arm out to point excitedly at something.

-“Huh?” He tilts his head, confused at first… and then he sees your face.

-Smile fades. Eyes go so serious. Way more serious than you’re used to.

-“...Who hurt you?”

-His voice isn’t loud , not Luffy loud. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

-He grabs your hand so gently it’s almost not Luffy at all. “You’re safe with me, okay?”

-That’s all he says in the moment. But later?

-He brings it up again. “I don’t like that you’re scared. I’m your captain. I’m supposed to protect you.”

-The next time someone so much as raises their voice at you?

-“Don’t talk to them like that. Or I’ll punch you into the ocean.”

-If he ever finds the person who hurt you, they’re gonna learn what Gear Fifth looks like up close.

-Clings to you more after that, lots of cuddles, hand-holding, head-in-your-lap moments.

-Says things like, “I love you. You’re mine. I got you,” with total, unshakable certainty.

Roronoa Zoro

-You flinch. Barely. He was just reaching to tuck your hair behind your ear, but your body moved like it was muscle memory.

-He stops instantly, hand suspended in mid-air, eye narrowing with sharp precision.

-“...Who hurt you?”

-Voice like a blade being unsheathed. Low, deadly calm. Not a demand. A promise.

-Zoro doesn’t do softness well, but the second he sees that flicker of fear, he switches.

-He steps back just enough to give you space but never takes his eyes off you.

-“You know I’d never lay a hand on you like that... right?”

-Later, when you talk, he listens. Every word. Every silence. And then he gets quiet. Still. Dangerous.

-The kind of quiet that means someone’s going to regret ever putting hands on you.

-He doesn’t say it, but you know he’s going to make sure it never happens again.

-Afterward, he’s more mindful, not coddling, but protective in small ways. Walking between you and others. Always watching.

Sanji Vinsmoke

-It happens so fast, he’s reaching to grab a jar from behind you, and you flinch.

-His hand drops like it burned him. Golden eyes wide, flickering with panic.

-“Mon chéri… who hurt you?”

-Not accusatory,  heartbroken. Like the very idea cracks something inside him.

-He’s immediately checking you over gently, carefully, like you’re made of glass.

-“I would never… I mean- ! I’d never lay a finger on you, you know that, don’t you?”

-You nod, and he gives you a shaky smile, but he’s not really smiling.

-If he finds out who it was? They’ll be lucky if he doesn’t go full Germa.

-Sanji may be a gentleman, but when it comes to someone hurting the person he loves?

-"I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.”

-Afterwards, he’s extra attentive, constant soft touches, verbal affirmations, cooking your favorites every day.

-You can feel how much it’s eating at him, but he just keeps loving you louder.

Trafalgar Law

-You flinch when he brushes past you to grab something, the reaction so quick, so ingrained, it makes his heart stop.

-He freezes. Doesn’t even breathe for a second.

-Then, in that dead calm voice:

-“Who hurt you?”

It’s not emotionless. It’s too focused. Too sharp. You know that tone that’s the voice of a man already making plans.

-“I need to know. So I can deal with it.”

-He’s not trying to scare you, but Law is all razor edges when it comes to people he loves.

-“You don’t have to tell me now. Or ever. But I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

-He gives you space, but watches you like a hawk for days. Weeks.

-Anytime someone gets too close, his hand is already on sword.

-If he ever finds out who it was? Oh, they’re not just going to suffer, they’ll vanish. Quietly. Permanently.

-Around you, though? He softens. Always announces his presence. Doesn’t touch without asking.

-He becomes incredibly intentional the small touches, the eye contact, the way he always checks in with,

-“You okay?” even when you’re just standing beside him.

-You never flinch again not around him. Not around his crew. Not with your captain.

♡♡♡

© 2025 arixella | please do not plagiarize or translate any of my work without my consent.

[daisydovley]

Something I Don't Know - Trafalgar Law

Sex Pollen⚘ NSFW ♡ 18+ ♡ SMUT

One Piece Masterlist

Captain! HardDom!Law / Crew!Reader Pairing: Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem!Reader (No use of y/n) Summary: You and your Captain have been imprisoned. Law has been injected with some kind of drug and you're shackled to the wall. Your crew is on the way, but if Law's fever doesn't break, he won't last before they get here. CW: Sex Pollen (But its a drug- Law Knows), DubCon, Medical Terminology, Restrained (F), Blood (Law's), Dirty Talk, Fingering (F Rec), Spit (F Rec), Creampie, Dick tattoos cause i like them, Confessing Feelings, Unspoken Feelings ANGST, Law is remoresful. Considers Erasing Reader's Memory of the Event DD:DNE Word Count: 3.8k Stayed up past my bedtime for this one, but wowie I was not sleeping until I got it out of my system (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)

➽──────────────❥

Law understands his body more than most people do. He is intimately familiar with the precise working of himself down the atom. He can tell you his exact molecular composition and the count of his blood at the drop of a hat. He has taken himself apart and examined his own organs from the inside out. He knows his body. He knows it well. Better than any doctor had ever known themselves.

So he knew something was wrong. He clocked the change nearly the exact moment it occurred. The rise of his temperature, the quickened pulse, and the fog descending across his thoughts. The symptoms worked dangerously fast, but it wasn’t until he felt the flood of testosterone and the rapid escalation of adrenaline that it all clicked into place just what exactly he had been dosed with.

“Captain?”

His power could remedy this without issue.

If he was able use it.

“Captain?”

But he is locked in sea prism stone prison, the metal draining him of all ability. It also lowers the baseline levels of his energy, which means the drug tearing through his system all that more potently.

“Captain!” Finally, Law’s gaze snaps to you. “What’s happening?” Your eyes are wide with concern, completely unaware that you are the one in the most danger here.

It hadn’t made sense to him at first. They’d tossed you both into this cell, but you were the only one chained to the wall. But, now- he understood completely. It was part of the torment. A cruel, vicious sort of torture, forcing a betrayal so pervasive between captives. Law hated to admit it, but it was a disgustingly effective sort of torture to force the wedge between Captain and Crew.

Your chains rattle as you try to make even the smallest bit of headway in freeing yourself. You have to get your Captain out of this cage. Whatever they have given him is making him seriously sick and without his power you weren’t sure if he’d be okay. Let alone survive long enough for the rest of the crew to find you.

Law barks your name in a tone that immediately halts your movements. “I need you to be quiet and be still.” You do as he says without question. You trust your Captain completely. Regardless of how worried you are, you have to believe he has a plan- or is working on one. Your Captain is the smartest man you’d ever met and you know there is nothing he can't figure out. You just hope he figures it out before whatever is wrong with him gets worse.

Law sits with his back to you, knees to his chest, head pressed into them. His hands cover his ears. Trying to make his body small, to block out as many of his senses as he can. He tries to breathe as little as possible. The position is slowing the effects of the poison, but it is so minuscule his rational mind tells him it won’t make a difference. Law grits his teeth in frustration, running equations through his head- trying to figure out if he could sus the exact composition of the drug coursing through his body.

You scan your eyes over the the cell, looking for something- anything- that could help. But you come up just as empty as you have for the past hour. It’s dark here, the only light comes from the fire lit sconces in the hall. There’s a drip drip drip from somewhere, but you don’t see a leak. You observe your surroundings the way Law taught you to. Pick an object and pick it apart, then move to the next and the next.

The bars were too small to fit through. The biggest structural weakness of any cell was the door so you pick apart the hinges and the keyhole. The scrape on the floor from years of being open and shut. But, nothing particularly jumps out at you.

The cell is small, sea prism lines both the walls and the floors. There is only the one set of shackles in the room, but it's odd that they chained you up instead of your Captain- when he so clearly is the greater threat between you. You figure it must mean they’re confident that whatever they dosed him with will keep him docile- or worse.

You take a deep, shuddering breath. The air here is so hot and humid, it's hard to breath in for the full ten-count your Captain would always remind you to do. The crew knows where you are- or where you were going- and they know what the plan is. You were both supposed to be back by now. They have your vivre cards. Undoubtedly, they were on their way here right this very second to save you both. You had complete, unshakable faith in your crew. They would come. They would find you.

The only thing that worried you was if your Captain would be okay until they got here from the whole other side of the island.

There was a soft clink of your chains as you slightly shifted and Law groans. His intoxicated mind already whispering devious madness in his ears. Telling him how close you are. How helpless. All chained up with no way to run from what he wanted to do to you.

Law growls in frustration, pressing his hands harder against his ears as if it could keep out his inside thoughts. Even sans the sound of your voice, his body was still reacting to your proximity. You’re as far apart from each other as you can be in the cell, but it wasn’t enough. He can feel your presence at his back. So close, so alluring. And as his senses keep heightening- he can smell you. The sweat on your skin, the scent of your sex that hadn’t yet slicked for him.

Law bites down hard on his tongue, trying to stifle the way his mind is thinking- using the pain to overwrite the receptors of sensation. But, it doesn’t help. The drug has bonded to him so completely it’s shutting out any stimulus that doesn’t align with his baser biological need. If anything, the taste of his own blood only spurs it on. Violence and arousal often stimulated similar regions of the brain. The drug was amping up his animalistic urges across the spectrum. The angrier he became, the more aroused he became. The more aroused he became, the more aggressive he became. Unless he could get the fever under control they would just keep feeding into each other.

But it was near impossible to do that when your presence alone hitched it higher. And his rational mind- what was left of it- was vaguely aware that the one thing that was going to bring the fever down before it killed him was the one thing he was determined not to suscept you to.

“Bring your knees to your chest,” he grinds out, “make your body as small as possible.” You don’t respond, but he knows you’ve done exactly as he ordered. You’re always so obedient for him. The new position muffles your scent, but not by much. It buys him maybe a couple extra minutes of rationality. But he’s torn on what exactly to do with it. He can’t see any way out of this and he won’t be able to prevent what’s about to happen.

“Listen,” he says, voice deepening, “the drug they gave me- it’s making me sick. Really sick.”

“Captain,” your voice washes over him and his cock jumps. “Tell me what to do,” your voice is desperate, but willing. You’ll do anything he tells you. You always do. Always so well behaved.

“The fever is going to kill me,” he states plainly and its the truth. He can’t think of any way to prevent it here- in this cell. At least, not any way that doesn’t involve giving into what his body wants to do to you.

“No!” There’s a sharp rattle as you press as far forward as you can. “No, Captain! I’ll get us out of here. The carpometacarpal, right? I think I can crush it if I-“

“Don’t,” he barks.

“I’m not going to let you die,” you snap, chains rattling. Law turns around to see you trying to maneuver into a position to break your hands. He quickly moves across the room and grabs your arms, halting your attempts.

You gasp, “Captain… you’re burning up.” His hands are hot were he has them wrapped around you. There's heat radiating off him and it rushes towards you like a fire licking at your skin. “Captain,” you plead, “what do we do? Tell me, please.” His eyes are fixed where your arm is trapped in his grip and they’re dark- nearly pitch black.

Your eyes follow his gaze where his burning hand has you in a vice grip and you think you must know the dilemma he’s grappling with. You don't. “Break it,” you tell him and his eyes snap to yours. “If you have to break it, do it. I can take it.” You keep your face even, trying to convince him of your resolute bravery, but he feels the way your pulse quickens in apprehension.

“You can take it, hm?” A wicked grin slices across face, “you’ll just take anything I give you, won’t you?”

You blink, brows furrowing at his words. That adorable little crease between your eyes pulls him back from the edge- just a little. He rips his hands off you. “Don’t break anything,” he rattles. “It won’t help.”

“Then what will,” you beg. Your eyes start to glisten and theres a tremble to your lip he wants to suck between his teeth. “Captain, please. Please.”

Law groans, cock twitching at the sound of your begging. He places a hand against the wall beside your head, keeping you caged. Not that you could go anywhere. Not that you could get away from him.

“The drug is a kind of stimulant. The fever increases neurotransmitter activity, amplifying base hormones that require a counterbalance to-“

“Law,” you interrupt his rambling, “what do you need?”

“I need to fuck you.” Your mouth drops, reeling back- completely caught off guard by his response. But you know he’s deathly serious. “I am going to fuck you.” His voice is gravely, thick and trembles with remorse, “I won’t be able to stop myself.”

He looks straight at you and you watch as the darkness eats away at the gorgeous golden dawn of his eyes. Before it’s gone you have to tell him- he has to know- “It’s okay, Captain. It’s okay. You can do it, whatever you need.”

His face crumples and drops to the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and he nuzzles into you for a just a moment before you feel it. The shift. A change to the atmosphere, a change to the way he touches you.

He laughs darkly against your throat, “whatever I need, hm?” he drags his teeth up and nips at your jaw, “and if I need to spread you open and drive my cock into your little cunt?”

Your breath hitches and his hot fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me,” he orders.

“Y-yes,” you answer.

“Yes, what?” he snarls.

“Yes, Captain.”

His grin is satisfied as he drags his thumb across your lips. “Say it,” he urges. Blush blooms across your face and you avert your eyes. He snaps your name, “you will look at your Captain when you speak to him.” He leans in, tongue barely flitting over your lips as he hisses once more, “Now say it.”

“Y-you can have…” you lips tremble, “you can have your way with me, Captain.”

Law slams his hand into the stone by your head, making you yelp. “That is not what I said.” He tilts his head, “you’re being a bad girl, not listening to your Captain.”

Your tongue darts over your lips and his slides out to mirror you. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

“Try again.”

You swallow, trying not to look away from him as you repeat his filthy words, “you can spread me open, Captain. You can drive your-” you stutter just a little, “y-your cock into my little cunt.”

He smiles at you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Good girl.” His face softens as he caresses you, “always my good girl…” Your heart flips and he cocks a brow, leaning forward to look into your eyes. “You like that, don’t you? You like being Captain's good girl.” There’s a fluttering low in your tummy and Law grins- watching how your pupils dilate. “Oh, you like it a lot.”

He leans back on his knees, letting his eyes roam over your restrained body. “But I already knew that.” Law shrugs his jacket off his shoulders. “So tell me something-” he peels his shirt off his back, “-that I don’t know.”

Despite yourself, your eyes roam over your Captain's body, trailing the lines of his tattoos drawn through the ridges of his muscle. Despite how decorated his skin is, he so rarely shows it. “I…” you snap your eyes back up to his, “I like to look at you.”

He shakes his head, shoulders shaking as he laughs, “you think I don’t know that?” Embarrassed heat flushes through you. “You think I don’t see the way you watch me? You think I don’t let you watch?” His grin turns devious, “tell me what you do to yourself when you think about me.” You stammer, while Law’s hands start undoing his pants. “Go on.”

“I…” your thighs press together as you confess in a small voice, “I touch myself.”

“What?” he teases with a tilt of his head, “Can’t hear you.”

Your heart thumps wildly, “I touch myself when I think of you, Captain.”

Your Captain leans forward and fists the fabric of your shirt- and your bra with it. “I know,” he shrugs- then rips in one strong motion, tearing your clothes away.

You gasp, unable to cover yourself with your hands chained to the wall. “C-captain!” Despite that, you still yank on the restraints as if it would make a difference. Law’s cock twitches watching you struggle and he slides his pants over his knees, finally leting it fall free.

Your eyes snap to his cock, mouth falling open. “Now you have something new to look at,” his tone is arrogant, enjoying the way you take him in. Your eyes trace the tattoos striping over his low waist to wind around his cock. His hand rubs up the underside of his shaft and it jerks against his touch, precum oozing from his slit. “You gonna think about this when you touch yourself?”

“Yes, Captain.”

He chuckles, “good girl. So honest.” Law slides forward and grabs the waist of your shorts, yanking them down over your curves and tossing them to the side with the rest of your ruined clothes. You’re completely naked for him now, strung up and exposed.

You squeeze your legs together, pulling your knees up, trying to instinctually preserve a bit of your modesty. Your Captain continues stroking his cock as he looks at you. “Spread your knees.” You bite your lip with a whimper. “That’s an order.” You move them apart a touch. “Wider.” A little bit wider.

Law growls grabbing both knees and throwing them apart, pinning them back against the wall, where you leave them as he leans back to admire the sight. “Why are you trying to hide from me, hm? Are you embarrassed?” You cry out when he suddenly sticks a finger into you and drags it up through your slit. He inspects it with a grin before holding it out to you. “Embarrassed by how wet you are?” He brings the finger back and sticks it into his mouth, moan from the taste of you dropping deeper when he sees your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“Yes, Captain,” you answer.

He pulls his finger from his mouth with a pop and hauls your hips up into his lap. Your fingers tighten around your chains as his fingers spread you open. You gasp as he rubs his tumbs to either side of your clit, head tilting back with a moan.

Law uses his thumbs to stimulate your clit in ways you’ve never felt before while his knuckles spread your dripping cunt. “You like this? That’s the root of your clit,” his voice slips back into a familiar instructional tone. “When I press like this,” you cry out, hips bucking into his hands. “Enhances sensitivity, by increasing the blood flow there…” He’s so focused on perfecting the technique of it on your body it almost feels like he’s himself again-

He spits on your clit, making your body jerk. “Get it nice and swollen,” he chuckles as if he’s amused with himself, “you’re gonna cum so fucking hard on my cock.” Your pussy clenches around the points of Law’s knuckles where he keeps stretching your hole open.

He looks up at you, hands not stopping. “You still haven’t told me something I don’t know.”

He hums when your brow furrows, searching your mind for something you could offer him. “Y-you gave me your hoodie when we were on the Kazen Islands…”

“Mhm.”

“I still have it.”

“I kno-“

“I sleep in it, sometimes.” Law's hands slow and his eyes soften at the intimacy of the confession. Despite everything you have been doing, it’s only now that you feel the most vulnerable- the most exposed.

Law wraps your legs around his waist and slides his hands up your body. He leans forward, giving you more slack on the chains and letting your weight rest in his lap. His face nuzzles into your neck, lips pressing into your pulse- his voice is just a breath against it. “You used my shower when the pipes were busted.” Another press of his lips, kissing up your neck- “you left your hair tie on my sink.” You feel the head of his cock slide easily into you Law kisses the hollow of your ear, “I keep it in my nightstand.”

His hips press forward and he lets you feel every inch of his cock as slides home. You groan deeply, legs tightening around him. Your hands instinctively try to wrap around his body, but are stopped by the chains. “Captain~” you moan. He thrusts into you, deep and steady, his arm keeping your back from hitting the jagged stone.

His other hand finds its way between your bodies, pressing into your clit. It’s just as sensitive as he promised it would be. He circles his fingers atop your bud, still wet with your slick and his spit. He slowly increases the pressure and his hips pick up speed.

The ground splits the skin of Law’s knees, but the sting of it is drowned out by how deliciously your body takes him, squeezing him deeper. He holds you tighter, lifting a little higher to keep your wrists slack. Even in his state, sapped of his natural energy, he could do this. For you- his pretty girl, so soft- he wasn’t putting you on the ground. He knows at his pace the stone would scrape you up and the only marks that belong on your body are his.

Law's mouth returns to the pulse at your throat and sucks, his tongue darting over the sensitive flesh. His fingers press into your clit faster now- relentless- desperate for the sweet clench of your body.

“Captain…” you moan, “I’m… I’m getting close.”

His mouth parts from your flesh with a stand with a strand drool, “Good girl. Need you to cum on your Captain’s cock.” His fingers roll faster over your clit, near vibrating and you tilt your head back.

“Yes, I’m gonna- Captain, I’m…”

Law plows himself into you, snarling through his teeth- desperately holding on until he feels that first squeeze of your orgasm. “Say my name, baby. Say my name.”

“Law-!“ his name breaks over your tongue as you cum and Law arches his back as he spurts into you.

“Fuuck,” he groans, jerking his hips to milk every drop into you, “so fucking tight.”

Your body convulses as you come down from your high and Law scoots knees to the wall so you can sit in his lap. He wraps both arms around your back to keep you off the stone. You still can’t put your arms around him, but you drop your head into the crook of his neck, still in the aftershock of your orgasm.

Your breaths are shallowing, gasping for air and his fever begins to recede, the fog just barely starting to lift. He tightens his hold on you as he feels your lips tremble against his skin, “Captain…”

“Shhh…” he soothes. “I’m here, I got you. Captain’s got you.”

Your body grows heavy, the exhaustion of your circumstances finally settling over you.

➽──────────────❥

You’re still sleeping in Law’s arms an hour later. You’re dressed now, though. He put your shorts back on and slid his shirt up your legs, tying the arms around your back to keep it from slipping down- and he’s back in his pants and his jacket. He used the ruined scraps of your clothes to clean you of himself and you barely stirred.

He holds you close to the wall, easing the tension from your restraints. He can see the raw red skin beneath the shackles and his chest twists he caused some of it. He was too rough with you- far too rough. And though he knows you’re going to forgive him for it, he hates that your first time together is so tainted. He’d spent so long imaging how it could go- how it would go, one day- and this was not even a shadow of what you deserved.

He would have to make it up to you- somehow.

Or, maybe he’d have to make you forget.

He can do that once his power returns. And maybe he should. He has no idea how you will look at him now- and if he will survive it. Part of him wishes he’d just let the fever take him instead. But, you never would have let that happen. You were ready to shatter your own body just to be next to him in a cell neither of you could escape from.

He can feel the shudder through the stones and hear the commotion floors above that tells him the crew has arrived. He never had any doubt they would.

And even though you wake when the cell is pried open and your cuffs are removed, Law still carries you all the way home.

[alwayssassydreamer]

Examining the sensitivity of the human body

A/N: thanks for the idea/request Ann(on), sorry it took so long had to do a poll for the character and then i drifted away a little sorry about that, hope you enjoy it;

Plot: you confinced Law to teach you something about the male body with him being your test subject. But you soon realize that messing with the doctor was not your best idea.

Warnings: nudity, feather play, brat taming, oral, bondage, p in v, nsfw, MDNI ⚠️🔞

Characters: Law x F!Reader

You've been annoying him non-stop asking him to teach you about male anatomy with him being the test subject. But he refused countless times.

"Fine, the I guess I'll ask the green-haired swordsman of the strawhats " you pouted, Law glanced at you but still no sign that he'd change his mind.

Well seems that's not enough.

"Or maybe Captain Kid and his muscular blonde first mate. I bet they'd be eager to help me out" you teased and Law flinched at the name of the red haired captain. Jackpot.

You stepped closer to his chair moving your fingers gently over his back.

"Gonna ask if someone knows where the kid pirates are" you whispered in his ear before turning around walking towards the door.

"Don't you dare" he snapped. You stopped and turned on your heel, big smile on your face.

"I'm gonna wipe that smile off you if you don't stop" he warned.

"Rude" you pouted. "Sooo does that mean you agree to do this?"

"If you stop being a pain in my ass"

"I promise captain" you teased gleefully.

Who would've thought that Kid would be so useful.

The next day Law was awaiting you in his office. You were really excited that he agreed to this.

"What's with the bag" he asked as you put it on his desk.

"Nothing, it's more like a first aid kit" you replied trying not to smile.

"Ok so- what are you doing" he asked as you grabbed one of his doctor's coats.

"I'm the doctor today and you are my patient, so I thought that i needed to dress appropriately." You teased taking your glasses out of your bag and putting them on and then grabbed his stethoscope and placed it around your neck.

"Now dear patient I need you to take your clothes off and lay down on the examining table"

"Why do I-" he started but you cut him off.

"Good patients don't question their doctor" you scolded "Besides someone once told me that a good doctor always knows what their patients need" you teased making him frown as you used his own words against him.

He grumbled, muttering something like "why did i agree to this" "should've let her do it with zoro-ya" to himself. But you ignored him.

You were too excited. For once he would be the one on the examining table, be the test subject and not you. You could feel a rush of heat run through your body.

Only wearing his underwear Law wanted to lay down when you stopped him.

"When I said you should take of your clothes I meant all of it" you said motioning at his underwear.

"Thin ice" he growled, anger in his eyes.

"Come on, you always make me lay down totally naked so it's only fair when you are too" you said giving him your best puppy eyes. And of course that worked.

He stripped naked and laid down. You gasped at the nice sight in front of you. Feeling your cheeks burning and your core already aching. Ok calm down otherwise this will be over before you had some fun you told yourself. Though that beautiful body made it hard to focus.

You cleared your throat and grabbed his wrists cuffing them to the side. The look on Law's face told you that he did not like that, especially the moment he realized that you had replaced the normal cuffs for his wrists with seastone prism.

"The hell did you do" he yelled trying to get away. But it's already been to late as you just finished cuffing his ankles.

"What? If i use the normal ones you'll be using your devilfruit sooner or later and that's not fair." You explained with a smug smile.

"Now stop complaining and let's start"

"Ok what do you want me to teach you? Keep in mind that my movement and sight is kinda limited." He said annoyed.

"Would you say that a men's body is less sensitive than a female's" you asked placing a hand on his chest.

"Well a woman has a greater nerve density therefore they may feel pain more intensely."

"I'm not talking about pain, I'm talking about light touches and stimulation" you said using your fingertips to gently draw lazy circles on his chest.

You could feel his muscles tense even with this light touches. Still he remained his professionalism.

"It depends on who's touching. For example if men get touched by a stranger from the opposite sex than it would still feel kinda pleasant whereas women might consider it unpleasant and therefore they could react less sensitive"

"But I'm no stranger" you said moving your fingertips closer to his nipples.

A shiver ran down his spine, while he was muffling a small moan.

The look on his face told you that he wanted to say something but was lost for words. He couldn't bring himself to say that the touch of a romantic partner is more intense.

"Ok how about we test it" you said as you grabbed the bag rummaging in it as you took a blue feather out.

Law looked at you and you could be wrong but it kinda looked like he was panicking a little. But you also could've only imagined it.

"Light touches are more intense for women, whereas men could feel up to nothing." He said out of nowhere, staring at the feather in your hand.

"Might be true but you once told me that some regions on the body are densly packed with nerve endings making it highly responsive to light touches and delicate stimulation." He cursed himself for teaching you this but was also a little proud that you remembered.

"Shall we find out where these regions are" you teased as you twirled the feather in your hand.

"There's no need for such a childish game. I could just show you" Law argumented.

You pretend to think about his offer. "But that's no fun. Besides you always say that I'm behaving like a child so" you mocked with an evil smile.

"Now dear patient let's start"

You moved the feather carefully along Law's arm stopping at his shoulder - no real reaction.

You continued your path now moving it along his neck receiving a small twist from him. He gritted his teeth as you kept on moving it lightly left to right and then back again.

"Sir you have to tell me how it feels, it's really important that the patient keeps communicating with the doctor" you taunted.

"The neck region's-" he stopped taking a deep breath "skin is thinner therefore-" again a short pause "more sensitive to touch" he explained finally able to ending his sentence.

"Would you say in a good way or not" you asked stopping your movements but leaving the feather on his skin.

He stared at you for a moment before giving you a nasty look. Well seems like he's too scared to admit he's liking it.

"Ok so neck is a yes" you said pretending to be crossing it of from a checklist.

Before he could say something you continued. Moving the feather along his collarbone watching his expression.

"Law are you still there" you asked moving your face closer to his. He looked at you a mix of confusion and annoyance. "I'm not learning anything if you keep quiet"

"The collarbone is relatively thin, with less muscle and fat padding underneath, which allows nerve endings to be closer to the surface." Since he could say that without even the slightest change in his voice or expression you figured that it may be sensitive for others but not so much for him.

"What about here". He pulled at his bonds the moment the feather touched his nipple.

"No need to answer that" you taunted moving it around and around this sensitive area.

"Fuck" he cursed pulling harder at the cuffs. The feeling of the small bristles dancing across his sensitive nipple did sent a feeling of arousal through him.

That was a good spot it seemed so you decided to linger there moving from one nipple to the other and then back again until a small moan escaped his lips. That sent a rush through your own body and you could feel your core heating up.

You had to stop - for the sake of both of you

Law was thankful when the teasing on his nipples stopped but didn't have long to relax. You moved the feather downwards along his abs, brushing carefully up and down.

He tensed a little but not enougn to satisfy you.

"This area, particularly around the belly button, can also be sensitive due to thinner skin and underlying nerve fibers" he explained again way too calm for your liking. It almost seemed like he was bored.

You looked down his body. Smiling you got onto the table sitting down on the spot just above his knees.

"correct me if I'm wrong but i think you once mentioned something about the groin area to be rather sensitive due to the concentration of nerve fibers"

"Don't" he warned. If looks could kill you'd probably be dead right now. You hesitated for a moment, the way he looked at you made you shiver - he was really really mad at you.

Maybe if you untied him right now he would not punish you but you will never ever get the chance of playing with the surgeon of death again. You're screwed anyways so why not have some fun as long as you can.

"Sorry but this is important for me to understand the male body" you teased dragging the feather from his inner thigh higher and higher.

"I swear if you don't stop right now you're going to regret it" he threatened but you ignored him.

"But you seem to enjoy it" you mocked as you looked at his twitching cock.

The tips of the feather gently caressed the area where the thigh meets the groin, making Law grit his teeth. He pulled hardly at his bonds almost throwing you of him.

The tension between you was getting so intense. You could feel the wetness between your own legs as you finally let the feather drag over his cock.

A moan escaped his lips. Fingers clenching into a fist.

You dragged the feather slowly and torturous across his shaft gaining another moan from him. Then decided to pay some attention to his balls. Which got you the same reaction.

He was hissing, breath hitching, body jolting and once again he was trying to break free. You kept repeating your motions - torturing his shaft then going back to his balls over and over.

"Fuck stop" he shouted in between moans.

"You know I've heard that feather touches can stimulate the skin's tactile receptors and increase sensations, particularly in erogenous zones, but an orgasm typically requires more intense, rhythmic stimulation. I guess it's only an edging process" You said not once stopping your movements while a big smile spread on your lips.

"Fuck" was the only thing he said as you kept edging him. Precum slowly dripping down. You decided to pick it up a notch and moved the feather on his tip.

His body jolted and his back was arching. A low moan leaving his lips.

You could see exhaustion in his face so you stopped completely lifiting the feather from his body before giving his cock a qick kiss.

"You know I thought you wanted to teach me something about the male body not a million cursing words" you laughed.

"But since you've been such a brave patient you should get some reward" you continued as you licked his cock. Long lustful licks along his shaft, your hands gently massaging his balls. You slowly wrapped your lips around him and started bobbing. Since he was already so riled up it didnt take him long to come in your mouth.

Swallowing you climbed off of him. He looked relieved but still exhausted, breathing heavily.

"Breaks over, let's continue with our lesson" you said startling him.

"Seriously there's nothing more to explore" he groaned still trying to collect himself.

"What about your feet" you asked playfully, knowing that your own were more then sensitive.

"No" he said, when you suddenly felt yourself cuffed to the table.

"What the hell" you cursed not knowing what just happened.

"Next time you cuff someone make sure to double check it." He explained a smug smile on his face. Fuck!

"Ok listen Law I'm sorry but this was just a game" you stuttered heart pounding like crazy.

"Oh i know and this will be too. Room - shambles" suddenly your clothes were gone.

"Law please" you almost whimpered.

"Don't worry the doctor's going to take care of you, besides what a better way to find out if women are more sensitive than men than to compare it right now" he teased.

You immediately started regretting this whole thing. He's examined you so many times - knowing every sensitive spot on your body and how to get you riled up.

"Let's begin the lesson" he taunted you before brushing his lips over your ear. His teeth carefully biting your earlobe pulling.

You started to hiss. Your already wet core getting wetter.

"Law" you whined. But he paid you no mind. The only thing he was thinking about was getting his payback.

He let go of your earlobe and moved over to your neck.

"No" you moaned, your neck always being a sensitive spot. He nibbled and sucked on the skin.

"It seems that your neck area is just as sensitive as mine" he said into your skin. You doubted that. You were sure that yours is worse.

He continued his assault on your neck and you were sure that he would leave marks.

Slowly but hungry kisses were placed along your collarbone causing you to pull at your bonds.

"Seems you're a little more sensitive here" you could feel the smile on his face. That bastard was enjoying this.

He moved to your breasts one hand kneading it while your nipple was greeted by his tongue.

"Law please stop" you whimpered between moans as he gave kitten licks to your sensitive skin. Your back arched, head shaking.

"But we're far from done. And to say it in your words this is fun." He taunted you before giving you a moment to breath.

"That's not fair, you're a cheater" you pouted looking at him.

"Life's not fair sweetheart" he said making you blush. Did he just call you sweetheart. When he looked at you and saw the warm smile on your face he realized what he just said.

To cover up that he was also slightly blushing he continued tormenting you burying his lips between your boobs while this time both his hands started kneading and squeezing them evey now and then teasing your nipples.

His touches made you shiver and by now you were sure that you created a sea between your legs for how wet you were.

He let go of your boobs and mirroring your belly. He took a single finger and let it's tip drag slowly and deliberately down the skin of it.

"Oooh god" you moaned head tilting back. How could a single fingertip feel so good and so horrible at the same time.

Laws skilful fingers and tongue were driving you crazy. You were sure you would explode any minute.

You squealed as the finger dipped into your bellybutton. Tears formed at the corner of your eyes you were so riled up you just wanted to cry.

Law saw the despair in your eyes and removed his finger.

"Almost done" he cooed, voice calm though you could hear a sadistic undertone in it.

He stepped to your lower half as you were taking deep breaths eyes staring at the ceiling. Why did you believe you could play with Law and then get away with it. Maybe one of the other three would've been a less torturous choice.

You were ripped of your thoughts when you felt something at your feet making you squirm.

"Please not there Law" you almost screamed. He smiled and stopped before placing a kiss on your sole, knowing all too well this would drive you crazy. He kept kissing from your feet up to your inner thighs. Sucking on the tender flesh.

You shrieked when his tongue made contact with your wet folds. Licking up and down at a torturous pace making you squirm.

You could feel him smile into your pussy before sucking on your clit.

"Fuck Law" you moaned out loudly, heart racing as everything around you started spinning.

His tongue devoured you licking up every little drop of your juice, everytime you were close to release yourself on him he stopped. That went on so many times that you lost count.

After some time he decided to push his fingers inside you, scissoring you. Tears began to run down your face, the stimulation becoming too much for you. Even the squirming got less and less simply because you felt like you were drained from all energy.

"Please" you whimpered desperately.

"You gonna do that again" he asked his fingers relentlessly moving in and out of you.

"Maybe......need to.......learn" you stuttered through a moan.

"Learn? What an eager student you are, maybe I should reward you for you being so willing to learn" he said a little surprised by your answer.

Law smiled at you and placed a small kiss on your core which was followed by his cock entering you making you scream out his name.

He fucked you senseless, walls tightening around him while he rubbed your clit.

"L-aw.....I.." you gasped not able to say it.

"Cum for me sweetheart" he said calmly as he picked up the pace bringing you both to your highs.

"So i hope today's lesson was educational" he mocked as he pulled out of you.

"Yes, looks like I'm more sensitive but we can only be sure if we repeat this and come up with the same results. "

[shy-writer-999]

Summary: Law is obsessed with the idea of breeding. When you indulge him, he acts like a dog in heat. 😳😳😳 ~1.2k words. CW: afab reader, dirty talk, gendered language (“mommy”), ejaculation inside. Mildly edited~

MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

Law fantasized about having kids with you. He was especially preoccupied by the act itself, i.e. cumming inside of you and getting you pregnant. Realistically, he didn’t think a family would be feasible in the near future, but when he broached the topic with you, you were enthusiastic and on board for all of it, especially in bed. He went fucking feral for it.

Law was insatiable. He’d pull you away from the crew and fuck you anywhere he could get away with, whether that be his cabin, the supply closet, the laundry room, the galley, literally anywhere. He’d whisper or grunt out the nastiest words that he could think of (which were arguably very sweet, too) and he’d cum inside of you every time. He also made sure that you came on his cock every time, without fail.

Law wasn’t worried about actually getting you pregnant, because anytime he came inside of you, he either used his medical knowledge and timed it according to your cycle, or he used his devil fruit powers to simply remove his cum. It was a win-win scenario: Law got to live out his fantasies with reckless abandon, and you came every time.

Someday, though, he wasn’t going to do either of those things. He wasn’t going to plan around your cycle or take his cum out of you. He’d actually just get you pregnant. Anytime he fucked you, he’d tell himself that it was today. Today would be the day that he finally got you pregnant. That was a big part of the fantasy—the idea that he’d fuck you and today (whatever that day was) would be the day he finally pumped you full of his kids.

One random afternoon he pulled you into a random supply closet, ripped off your clothes and fingered you from behind until you came. Then, when you were dripping wet and shaking, he pinned you against the wall and slipped his cock into you. His chest pressed on your back while one of his hands gripped your hip. The other hand reached around your front, rubbing your clit in rough, euphoric circles.

Before you even had sex, Law started to get hard at the idea of how you would look pregnant, walking around like that for everyone to see and know that it was him who did that.

As he slid his cock into your messy cunt, he murmured in your ear. “Let me do all the work, gorgeous.”

Law’s hips crashed into yours and let out a wet, filthy sound each time. You tried to bite your tongue and keep the moans in, but you were struggling. His lips were centimeters from your ear, his voice was husky and gravelly. Desire trickled out of his lips at a rate comparable to the juices leaking out of you.

“Don’t you want to start a family, sweetheart?” Law growled, sending goosebumps down your neck. His wiry facial hair tickled your skin. “Gonna creampie you ‘till you get pregnant for me.”

His hips increased their pace at each nasty word he uttered in your ear.

“You wanna take it all for me? You’d look so f-fucking hot pregnant, baby, won’t you let me cum inside and make you a mom?”

The answer was obviously (and always) yes. When you whimpered and whined it only spurred him on.

“Gonna be such a good mommy for me, fuuuccckkk.”

Law’s cock grinded into you, scraping your walls and hitting your g-spot. Each thrust slammed ecstasy into your core, making you squirm and keen his name. Your legs were starting to give out, your face was pressed against the wall, and you barely had the strength to remain standing.

“Law, fuck, cum in me—f-fill me up, wanna have your k-kids” you moaned into the wall as his fingers on your clit pressed down.

Your words, as simple as they were, set him off. When you participated in the fantasy like that it drove him fucking crazy.

He started to kiss and nibble on your exposed shoulder, biting it like he was mating with you, like you were all his. When he bit down hard enough, you yelped. He loved that sound.

“’m gonna fuck you full,” Law groaned and his hips shuddered. “You gonna have my babies? Be a mommy for me?”

You attempted to nod while Law let out guttural noises in your ear. “Gonna breed this pretty pussy. Pregnant with all my—fuck—my kids, fuck baby—I—fucckkkk.”

Law could hardly speak. You just felt too good around him—it’s like you were swallowing him up, squeezing him, like your body was begging him to cum inside. He moaned, low and primal, fucking you at a feverish pace.

He was at his wits end.

“F—f—fuuuhhhhccckkk, fuck, ‘m cumming—I—mmm, ‘m cumming.”

With those heaving words, Law’s hips spasmed frantically and he shot his seed deep inside, as close to your cervix as he possibly could. You could feel the ropes of hot, sticky cum spurting out of him, filling you up.

Your orgasm was seconds after his, blissful and mind blowing. As you reeled in pleasure, your walls clenched around his cock he convulsed again. He imagined your walls milking him dry and almost blacked out from pleasure.

When Law was done cumming in you, he peeled his sweat-ridden chest off your back and flipped you around. He kissed you passionately for a minute before he realized how weak you were after cumming twice.

Law used his devil fruit powers to switch your clothes onto you from where they lay crumpled in a pile on the floor. He could have used his powers to get you into bed if he wanted to, but he preferred to carry you there in his arms. If anyone on the crew saw, they would know what happened (and he didn’t care).

When he fucked you ravenously, Law was hyperaware of the effects that such rough sex had on your body. He was cognizant of that always, but in the moments after you had sex he made sure to treat you like you were delicate and precious to him. While he carted you off to bed, he gave you a few more kisses. He always gave you as many as you'd take.

You nuzzled into his chest and the next thing you knew, he was cuddling you in bed. Law knew that you loved cuddling after sex, so he obliged with the sweetest smile on his face. He felt lucky that you let him fuck you in whatever depraved and fantastical way he could think of. What a privilege.

Law pondered it for a while and decided that maybe it would actually be today, if you were fine with it. If you’d let him, he’d actually get you pregnant this time. No devil fruit powers would be used to take his cum out of you, if you gave the go ahead. And if you said no, if you asked him to take his seed out of you, he’d be ecstatic to give it another go. After all, if today wasn’t the day he got you pregnant for good, maybe it would tomorrow. He would give you as many tomorrows as you wanted.

ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ thank u for reading!! (*ﾉ∀`*) also its law's birthday so i hope we all dream of fucking him tn, he deserves it (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

here's my masterlist and my posting schedule for october!

also trick or treat? (both tumblr links)

[mininapow]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. don’t you wanna sleep…? ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

18+

smut

trafalgar law x f!reader

1.2k words

sleepy sex, soft dom law, cockwarming vibes

a faint tingle slowly pulled you out of a deep sleep.

then came a familiar weight sinking into the mattress beside you.

a sleepy whine slipped from deep in your throat.

“wake up,” a low, soft voice murmured, the kind that always sounded like music to your heart, pulling you further awake.

“mmmh, what is it?~” you mumbled, dragging a hand over your face.

the weight of your boyfriend’s head falling onto your stomach knocked the breath out of you. the rough stubble on his jaw scratched pleasantly against your skin.

you opened your eyes to a room drowned in bluish darkness, barely lit enough for you to make out the beautiful eyes of the man you loved.

a tired smile curled at the corner of your lips.

your hand instinctively found his hair, fingers brushing over the cheek framed by dark strands.

he looked so vulnerable there between your thighs, huge and exhausted, his face melting into your palm.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart?” you murmured.

his hands slipped beneath your tank top, cold fingers tracing over your warm ribs and making you shiver.

“i’m home, pretty thing.”

“yeah, i noticed…”

his hands found your breasts, squeezing them as a sly grin spread across his lips.

“law… it’s late…” you shifted beneath him, affection staining every word.

“c’mon, pretty girl, just a little… it’s been a long day,” he muttered, kissing your stomach. “it’s only three in the morning…”

“mmmh really?” you asked, eyes falling shut again as you played with his hair. “don’t you wanna sleep…?”

“not after seeing you like this.”

you cracked one eye open. he was smirking against the waistband of your shorts, fingers circling your nipple.

your needy little cunt started throbbing beneath him.

“no… i don’t.”

he shifted, pulling his hands from your shirt and settling fully on top of you, his bare knee pressing right between your thighs.

only then did you realize he was just in his underwear.

you smiled when his face hovered level with yours.

“hey~” you whispered.

your hands cupped his face, exploring something already so familiar to you.

he kissed you slowly, one hand at your waist, the other wrapped around your throat, gentle, but enough to leave you drowning in the feeling of belonging completely to him.

you kissed him back, and it deepened quickly, all hunger and need.

“law~ i’m sleepy…” you mumbled.

he clicked his tongue, pulling away just enough to tilt your head back and mouth at your throat.

“you won’t have to move,” he muttered.

before you could even process what was happening, his hands were all over you, flipping you onto your stomach so fast that if the kisses hadn’t woken you up before, the pressure of your face against the pillow definitely did.

“law~” you moaned.

“yeah, that’s my name, needy girl,” he teased under his breath.

he kissed your shoulder, and only then did you feel his cock hardening against your ass.

he barely pulled away, lifting your hips with one hand while he dragged the pillows from beside you and shoved them underneath your stomach instead.

“hey…” you laughed softly.

still, you cooperated, grinding your ass back against his cock.

a low growl rumbled from his chest.

he kept kissing along your back, pushing your hair aside, one hand gripping the back of your neck while pressing your face deeper into the mattress.

a startled gasp slipped from your lips when he tugged your shorts and panties down together.

you were still half asleep, blissfully happy your lover had finally come home and decided to fill you up with himself.

almost unconsciously, you arched deeper against the pillows.

“you want this?” he asked softly against your ear, almost sweet about it, completely enjoying the control he had over you.

you barely managed a weak little “yes.”

your cunt exposed, you could barely feel him pushing down his own underwear before lining himself up with you.

the wet head of his cock dragged against your entrance.

a moan spilled from your lips.

sleep had completely abandoned you by now. all you could think about was his hand around your throat and the thick tip of his cock bullying against your drooling hole.

you squirmed impatiently, trying to get him to push in already.

and he did, one rough thrust stealing the breath from your lungs, desperate to stuff you full of him.

his free hand dug into your ass, crushing you beneath him completely.

“you can sleep again in a minute…” he growled.

his thrusts filled you perfectly, hitting that soft spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

the sounds falling from your mouth were anything but pretty, and the sharp slaps echoing through the room only made you wetter.

the filthy wet sounds where your bodies met made you tremble.

you started rocking your hips back for your own pleasure, and he didn’t stop you, just followed your rhythm, forcing your soft body deeper into the bed.

you could practically see stars, sweat sliding down your back, your nails digging into the sheets just as deep as he was burying himself inside you.

he leaned down, rough guttural noises spilling from his throat as he enjoyed every inch of you.

“so fucking tight…” he breathed

you could feel yourself getting close.

but you didn’t stop, your hips chasing more of him until everything became too much, the pressure of his cock against your sensitive cunt pushing you over the edge.

your moans turned uneven and desperate.

he pressed you down harder, overwhelming you even more.

“why’re you rushing, slut? i’m not done with you yet,” he murmured with a quiet laugh, enjoying the way your body twitched from the overstimulation.

his hand left your throat only to grip your ass tighter instead. you could feel everything and nothing all at once, dizzy from still being fucked through your orgasm.

soon his hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing at your swollen clit, slick coating his fingers until you nearly screamed.

he almost pulled out completely before slamming back inside, leaving you even more fucked stupid than before.

“j~just finish already” you begged.

“need you to help me out a little, pretty thing…” he muttered, abandoning your abused little bundle of nerves only to wrap his hand around your throat again.

impatient and clumsy, you rocked your hips back against him, sore and completely out of your mind, feeling your slick gush around his cock even more.

his arousal pulsed harder inside you. he fucked you so hard tears nearly welled in your eyes, your breathing ragged, fingers twisting into the sheets hard enough to tear them.

as his thrusts turned rougher and faster, he finally came, ruining your back and shirt with thick ropes of hot white cum.

the second he finished, your body collapsed against the pillows beneath you, completely pinned under him, covered in his mess.

you brought your hands up to your face.

“good girl… now we can finally sleep,” he exhaled, leaning down to kiss you again.

he sounded exhausted, and ridiculously pleased. his hand drifted over your back smeared with his cum, almost like he was absentmindedly trying to clean you up.

“what?” he asked, amused. “you wanted more?”

your breathing trembled slightly, and he smiled against your mouth.

[acrimson-embrace]

The Inn

Plot: The one bed trope strikes again.

A/N: This will be an ongoing series to practice writing other characters as inspiration hits me. But of course I will start with my favorite men.

If you’d like to make a character suggestion—I am open!

Chapter 1: Trafalgar Law

Reader x Law

The room had one bed.

You stood in the doorway, still damp from the rain, still tired from two days of moving through back alleys, false names, and the particular misery of pretending not to know Trafalgar Law while he stood three feet away from you in public.

Law stopped behind you.

There was a pause.

Both of you looked at the single bed pushed against the wall.

“I’ll take the chair,” he said.

You turned your head.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I’ve slept in worse places.”

“That’s not the comforting argument you think it is.”

Law’s eyes shifted to you. Tired, flat, unimpressed.

You were starting to recognize that look. It meant he had expected his answer to be final and was now irritated to find you still participating in the conversation.

“It’s one night,” he said.

“Exactly.”

You stepped fully into the room and set your bag down beside the wall. “We are adults.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Fine. I’m an adult. You’re a miserable sea cryptid with a medical license.”

His mouth twitched.

Barely.

If you had blinked, you would have missed it.

Then he looked away, which was worse somehow.

He looked exhausted.

You hated that he looked exhausted.

You hated more that he was prepared to fold himself into that awful chair and pretend it was nothing.

“Law,” you said, softer this time.

His gaze came back to you.

“Take the bed.”

“No.”

“Then share it.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

Law stared at you.

You lifted both brows. “Don’t look at me like I suggested we commit treason.”

“You’re not thinking this through.”

“I am. The conclusion I reached is that sleeping in a chair after getting hurt last week is stupid.”

“I’m fine.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s usually true.”

“Law.”

His eyes shifted to yours.

“You were hurt. Take the bed.”

He exhaled through his nose and looked toward the bed again.

You crossed your arms. “We can put a pillow between us if your delicate sense of propriety needs medical support.”

“My delicate sense of propriety is fine.”

“Then get in the bed.”

His eyes narrowed.

You held his stare.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Law clicked his tongue under his breath and turned away.

“Fine,” he said. “But if you kick me, I’m moving to the chair.”

“If you move to the chair, I’m kicking you on purpose.”

“Annoying woman.”

“Dramatic doctor.”

That earned you another almost-smile.

You pretended not to see it, because with Law, noticing was dangerous. Noticing made him withdraw. Noticing made his walls come back sharper.

When you finally climbed into bed, you took the side closest to the wall.

Law noticed.

“You don’t have to trap yourself.”

“I’m not trapped.”

“You’re against the wall.”

“And you’re between me and the door. That seems practical.”

His eyes flicked to you.

There it was again.

That small, unreadable shift in his face.

Then he looked away and got in beside you.

Carefully.

So carefully it almost made you laugh, except you didn’t think either of you would survive the sound.

The mattress dipped under his weight. The blanket shifted. His body was a line of warmth beside yours, separated by a painfully deliberate stretch of space.

Neither of you touched.

The pillow between you sat like a diplomatic treaty.

For several minutes, the only sounds were the rain and Law’s breathing.

Even that felt too intimate.

You lay on your back, staring at the dark ceiling, hyperaware of every inch between you. His hand rested above the blanket near his chest.

You looked away.

Then looked back.

He was quiet for a moment. Then, low and dry, “Go to sleep.”

You smiled before you could stop yourself.

The room settled again.

Eventually your body began to relax. Law’s breathing evened out beside you, slower now, though you could tell he wasn’t asleep yet.

Neither were you.

“Law?” you whispered.

A pause.

“What.”

“Are you actually comfortable?”

“No.”

You turned your face toward him in the dark.

He did not turn toward you, but you could see the outline of his profile.

“Then why are you lying like that?”

“Because you complained about the chair.”

“I wanted you to not wake up unable to move your neck.”

“Why do you care?”

The question came too quietly.

You stared at him.

He still wasn’t looking at you.

You could have made a joke. It would have been easier. Safer. You could have told him someone had to keep the surgeon alive or the mission would get inconvenient.

Instead, exhaustion made you honest. “Because I do.”

Law said nothing.

Then he shifted onto his side, facing away from you. “Go to sleep,” he said again.

But his voice had changed.

At some point, you must have drifted off, because the room disappeared.

Sleep did what neither of you would.

It ruined everything.

You woke slowly.

Warm.

That was the first thing you noticed.

Solid, steady warmth pressed against you from behind.

Your eyes opened.

For one confused second, your mind could not arrange the facts into anything useful.

There was an arm around your waist.

A hand rested against your stomach, fingers relaxed, tattoos visible even in the dim light.

Your legs were tangled with someone else’s.

Law’s breath moved softly against the back of your neck.

You went completely still.

Behind you, Law was still asleep.

Not lightly, either. Not the tense half-rest you had seen him take in corners and against walls.

This was real sleep.

His face was close to your shoulder. His chest rose and fell against your back. One of his knees had slipped between yours during the night. The pillow that had once separated you had been shoved somewhere near the foot of the bed.

Your heart started beating much too hard.

You tried to move.

Law’s arm tightened.

He made a low sound in his sleep, rough and quiet, and tucked himself closer.

Like his body knew something the rest of him refused to admit.

You stared at the wall, burning alive in silence.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

This was soft, and warm, and natural in a way that made it worse. There was nothing careful about it.

You should have woken him.

You didn’t.

For another minute, maybe two, you let yourself stay.

His hand was broad against you. His thumb rested just beneath your ribs. His breathing brushed your skin. You could feel the steady beat of him behind you, the weight of him, the rare quiet of a man who spent most of his life braced for impact.

Then Law woke.

You knew the exact second it happened.

His entire body went still.

Not relaxed-still.

Horrified-still.

His breath stopped against your neck.

You closed your eyes.

Neither of you moved.

Then Law removed his arm from your waist.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Like he was disarming an explosive.

You rolled onto your back at the same time he shifted away, and both of you ended up staring at the ceiling with far too much space between you now.

The pillow lay on the floor.

Neither of you looked at it.

“Morning,” you said. Your voice was too calm.

Law cleared his throat. “Morning.”

Another silence.

His hair was a disaster.

There was a crease from the pillow on his cheek. His shirt had ridden up slightly at the hem. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and when he glanced toward you, something unreadable passed through them before he shut it down.

You wondered if you looked any better.

You doubted it.

Law sat up first.

“I’ll check the street,” he said.

“Yes. Good. Street.”

He paused at the edge of the bed.

For one dangerous second, you thought he might say something.

You wanted him to.

You did not want him to.

His hand flexed once against the blanket.

Then he stood.

You sat up and reached for your bag.

The room became busy with avoidance.

Boots. Belts. Weapons. Buttons.

Law checked the window. You fixed your sleeves. He adjusted his sword. You packed the map. Neither of you mentioned the bed. Neither of you mentioned his arm around you, your legs tangled together, the way his hand had tightened before he woke.

At one point, you both reached for the same glove on the chair.

Your fingers brushed.

Law froze.

So did you.

It was nothing.

Barely a touch.

But after waking up wrapped around each other, it felt obscene.

You pulled your hand back first.

“Yours,” you said.

Law picked up the glove. “Thanks.”

His voice was level.

Too level.

You turned away before he could see your face.

By the time you were both ready, the room looked untouched except for the unmade bed and the pillow abandoned on the floor.

Law opened the door.

You stepped past him into the hall.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The mission waited. The world had continued.

Law walked beside you in silence.

After half a block, he said, “You snore.”

You looked at him.

He kept his eyes forward.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“You were asleep.”

“I woke up.”

“You woke up and your first thought was to judge my breathing?”

“My first thought was not that.”

The words landed before he seemed to realize what he had said.

You both stopped walking.

Law’s expression did not change, but his ears went faintly red.

Your chest tightened.

“What was it?” you asked quietly.

He looked at you then.

Law’s eyes dropped briefly to your mouth.

Then back up.

His voice came low.

“Not here.”

You nodded once.

He turned and started walking again.

You followed.

Neither of you talked about the bed.

Not yet.

[acrimson-embrace]

One Piece Writing

Ao3 Link

I am primarily a Law/Shanks writer. I do dabble with other characters as the mood strikes me. Shamrock is my current obsession.

Shanks

Plot: Childhood crush reunited years later.

Story: The Years Between Us [female OC]

Plot: Current Emperor era meets Historian.

Series/Story: Salted Ink [female OC]

Plot: Early Emperor era Shanks falls hard for his crewmate.

Story: I Found [female OC]

Plot: Yandere/Dark Shanks. Series contains 2 Shanks centered short stories.

Series: Red Territory [female reader]

Plot: Aftermath of Shanks using haki.

Story: Anchor [female reader]

Trafalgar Law

Plot: Law being annoyed at the inconvenience of falling in love. Series contains 9 short stories.

Series: Law in Love [mix of GN/Female reader]

Plot: Brook asks what color panties you’re wearing. Law hates it.

Story: Panties [female reader]

Plot: Kid flirts with you. Law hates it.

Story: Crossfire [female reader]

Plot: You are terrible at seduction.

Story: The Art of Seduction [GN reader]

Shamrock

Plot: Shamrock falls in love with a woman that is “gifted” to him.

Story: Bird in the East Wing [female reader]

Sequel: The Perch

Sequel: The Gilded Cage — future

Various

Plot: Mihawk/Zoro/Shanks/Law & what gets them going.

Story: Kinks [female reader]

Misc.

Tumblr writings:

Red Hair pirate text chat

Red Hair pirate movie night

Procedures for when Shanks is in love

Sticky Notes [Law/Shanks/Mihawk]

Panties [Shanks/Ace/Eustass Kid/Mihawk]

**Credit for dividers/masterlist header: @saradika-graphics

[kentocake]

roommate!law walks in on you after a long day , he knew he could make it better.

mdni. 𓂃 2.2k / modern au / med student!law / overworked!reader / d/s dynamics / use of 'sir', 'bunny', 'angel', 'good girl' / slight dumbification / light humiliation / aided mastvrbation / no beta

it had been an utterly long day for law. 4 hour lab and a kid threw up during kendo practice. all he wanted to do was go home and bask in the comfort of his dark room. he cursed under his breath as he fudged with the keys in an attempt to open the door. he entered the corridor and kicked off his boots, not bothered to put them away neatly like usual. his head moved around as he examined the oddly sterile feeling apartment. his roommate wasn't in the kitchen attempting to cook. not sitting on the couch typing away at some last minute work or watching tv. not on the balcony. odd. they were used to each other's routines and shared plans of going out or something of the sort with each other. his roommate especially so for safety reasons.

law stalked down the hallway. bathroom door open. not there. his heart rate began to rise. fear of abandonment getting the best of him. he called out your name with a crack in his tone.

finally, he checked your room. law gently twisted the doorknob and opened the door, scanning bit by bit for any signs of life. the vanity was the first thing in sight. you weren't there.

he cracked the door further in an attempt to get a full view of your room. what law wasn't prepared to take in was his prideful, put-together roommate curled up at the top of her bed with her legs pulled towards her chest. lower half exposed as two hands weakly pulled and pushed a pink phallic-shaped object inside of her, only saving grace was a tank top barely clinging on for dear life.

he froze.

mouth agape with lipstick ruined from biting your plump lips. "mh- law! when did.. why.." you trailed and quickly clasped your legs together whilst folding your hands in your lap, dildo still in nestled sweetly in you. your attempt to be modest failed tremendously.

law stood in place. still stuck on the way you said his name. so naive. like a lamb cornered by a wolf.

your question was brutally ignored as he repeated the sound of his own name through his head. eyes raked over your form as he bit back a sly smirk. "stressful day, huh?"

your gaze turned doe-like in this moment. a look law's never seen before. you indulged in your share of gawking. his dark hair disheveled despite a visible attempt to tame it. the contour of law's upper body especially evident after a work out, in that tight, tight black shirt. faint smell of sandalwood and warm musk. your fight or flight instincts were kicking in. your eyes were glazed over. heartbeat in your ears. body completely still.

you both stilled for a moment. both contemplating. both deciding how far the other would allow the other to cross the line. law's pulse was still high from the previous panic.

he slowly left his post at the door, never breaking eye contact. in his peripheral he could see the rise and fall of his dear roommate's chest getting deeper, faster.

"you gonna answer me or keep staring at me like a deer in headlights?" you were the first to break eye contact. your eyes dart slowly away from law's. a small sound left your throat as you closes you mouth only to open it again, and close it. dumbfounded.

your usual demeanor being nowhere in sight is enough of a signal. law humored you, pretending as if your poor cunt wasn't stuffed full and exposed to him as he towered over you at the edge of the bed. "god, my day was terrible. my lab was long as hell. people kept arguing. a kid threw up during kendo. zoro was lived and i had to clean it up." he crossed his arms, veins bulged as his solid muscles contorted. "did you hear any of that?"

you blink at him. voice small, "take it out on me."

it's clear what you wanted and law knew it very well. "i don't know, looks like you're handling your stressful day just fine by yourself ms. independent." still cautious, he failed to make any further pushes.

you shook your head in fury. "n-no."

"no?"

"got home two hours ago 'n i still haven't came a single time." law took note of your plush, jutted out bottom lip.

"huh." law fake pondered. that explains how fucked out she is. "two hours and you still haven't been able to finish. do you even know how to touch yourself, little bunny?"

you breath hitched and got caught in your throat, making you choke a little. perfect. you nodded, eager to prove yourself to him.

"mm, clearly you don't. your technique is probably awful." he muttered. law's position and posture remained the same as you shyly squirmed in your place. still shy despite being exposed for so long.

you didn't deny it but no response wouldn't due around law. "show me."

your brows bowed-in as panic overtook your body. you shook your head softly. as if the motion of making you head twist would make you faint.

law knew he should be careful. manipulation and humiliation aren't his favorite. he isn't a mean dom, cruel at times yes but he wouldn't want to traumatize his sub — especially not someone like his hot roommate he's been pining over. yet, he can't bring himself not to look the other way.

he moved his body toward the exit.

he knows he won't leave.

"good luck tonight then." his heart nearly broke when he looked back over his shoulder to see your body spring forward, still on your bed but now situated on your knees as your reached a hand out for law with glossy eyes.

"no! please."

the plead was just salt in the wound but law doesn't back down from his act. he turned around once more for the final time, taking a position closer to you but still further than arms reach.

"you'll be good?" law tested. you nod and he clicked his tongue.

"you'll listen to me?" he gave you another chance. despite how stupid and needy you were, you picked up on it. "yes sir."

it took everything in law's power to hold back the groan in his throat. you didn't even know law like that, yet somehow knew exactly what he wanted. "good," he paused his praise to keep you on edge, "go ahead."

you timidly shuffled back into your previous position. ankles slightly separated and your hips angled up, unlike before. one hand reached under you thigh from the outer side whilst the other found purchase in between your legs. you used both hands to meekly pull the dildo out. your breath hitched and you silenced a sob with puffy lips.

pleading eyes found piercing amber irises.

law nodded in approval for you to continue. you struggled to push the dildo back inside your soft walls. it's a bit difficult compared to before. nerves made your muscles tense. you slowly repeated the motion. law watched and waited for you to get more comfortable. the motions of your hands remained soft and steady, yet hesitant. it's as if the toy wasn't allow inside you.

"what size is that?" law wondered out loud, he let it slip past his tongue.

"g— .. mm it's .. ha— 5 inches, i think. i don't know. i don't know." you let out broken noises that law didn't know your were keeping in you. he realized that he needed to keep you talking. law smirked, "you'll have a hard time with me if you're resisting that fake cock that much. won't you?"

you whined in response. "no… it's different." nimble hands continued to work the toy into you. you weren't even thinking that far ahead. the idea of law replacing the silicon toy made you whimper.

law hummed. "faster."

"y-yes sir." your attempt to pick up the pace was pathetic. hands repeatedly slipped from the base of the faux cock. your pace faltered. no steady rhythm. ah, that's the issue, law thought.

"i was right. you don't know how to touch yourself." he scoffed.

your name fell from his lips.

your pace faltered as did you expression. remnants of the roommate he knew prior to this situation bubbled to the surface with his serious tone.

"can i?" you understood his direct inquiry for consent and hummed, "yes, law." he smiled.

law took a knee to your soft mattress. then another. he hovered slightly above your body but not directly on top of you. "i'm going to need your hands to move, angel. move your body down, yeah near me." your followed his commands diligently.

"here, baby. lift your head. okay now down. hips." law placed a pillow behind your head and hips to prop them up.

his tattooed hands reached for the baby pink silicon toy. pulled it out, observed, tilted his head in place of a shrug. "didn't take you for such a dirty girl, little bunny." he teased the tip at your entrance and let the blunt head prod at you. "who knew my roommate played with herself like this while i'm gone. you probably do this stuff even when i'm here. so filthy"

again and again.

slow, deliberate.

law watched as your sweet, delicate skin fluttered around it. "bet you wanted me to catch you just to help you. 's why you took so long." law rammed the toy into you without warning. you screamed and whined, "no! no, no, didn't mean f-for you to see. honest." he took your pleads seriously. "i'm just teasing, angel. c'mon i'll be nice from now on."

the pace law set was brutal. firm grip on the base allowed him to drive it in and out at a steady, hard, cadence. you tried your best before to keep everything inside. embarrassing whines and whimpers escaped every now and then. shaky breaths. but every attempt you had now with law was denied as each moan was cruelly ripped out of your body. law relished in how easy it was to get something out of you. his patience ran thin when he watched you fuck yourself pathetically.

"see? see how nice i can be." he grew harder and harder. but his own pleasure was the least of his focus.

"law! law i'm ah— i'm—" law didn't need you to finish that sentence.

"already? i've only been fucking you with your pathetic excuse of a cock for about 3 minutes now." law hadn't looked away from your face once. he watched it contort in pleasure, burning images of your face into his brain. your eyes screwed shut, barely able to keep them open. mouth agape. he wanted to see much more.

your eyes met his and law swore he could've came from that alone.

"gorgeous girl. what's got you so worked up?" you whimpered at his question. "you! law please— please don't stop!" he chuckled at this.

"be a good girl and cum for me. show me how much of a mess you can make." he commanded. it took law everything in him to refrain from biting into your soft flesh. to not kiss you. to not take ownership of you. your exposed skin, wet eyes, tender mouth and obedience was all too welcoming.

your body quivered feebly around where you were caged between law and the mattress. broken strings of incomplete meaningless sentences came from you mouth. law had you perfectly fucked out. the sheer, undeniable strength of his muscular tattooed forearms had forced your body up and deeper into the mattress. the energy he exuded from the moment he walked in on you was utter carnal dominance; something a bit more depraved and selfish lingered behind. it was unlike his usual demeanor. he had always been a respectful roommate. never letting his eyes linger too long.

"look at me, angel. don't look away."

after giving you everything, how could you not obey this one last command before your climax?

glossy eyes weakly looked at law's. "yes.. ha— sir." law's strong gaze made your body convulse as you rode out your orgasm. his eyes had never looked at you like this before. deep, wolfish, greedy. law never slowed his pace. the blunt head hit the walls of your oversensitive cunt harder, deeper. right where he knew you liked it given how you squeezed the toy, making it harder for law to administer his movements. law's maw fell slack as he watched you. he tightened his jaw back up to stifle a guttural groan. "good fucking girl."

with one last mean arch you returned your body limply to the mattress. you panted heavily.

"thought i was going to break you." he removed the toy slowly as he watched how you almost refused to let it leave. law placed it upwards on the nightstand, his entire body hovered over you. you shook her head and muttered your gratitude meekly.

"you had a stressful day?" you questioned. your mind returned back down to earth, still floating above the ground but closer to it. law let out a long, heavy sigh. "yeah."

"let me take care of it."

a/n ⋮ ah there's such a lack of content w/ my man on tumblr what's up w/ that ! my first time sharing any of my writing 'm a bit nervy. i apologize if it's a bit ooc or if reader's personality is too defined. ♡

[grapeboom]

Mapping the Surface (2/2) [Explicit]

Trafalgar Law x afab!reader

wordcount: 5.5k

Read Part 1 Here ♡

Tags/warnings: Smut, Fluff, making out, suggestive, first time, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, intercourse, unprotected sex, inexperienced Law, brief mirror sex, slightly instructional, intimate, no use of y/n, Law gets pussy drunk if you squint

Summary: After weeks of being studying human anatomy under Law, the roles finally reverse. This time, you're the one teaching, and the subject is intimacy.

Then I’ll teach you.

Your words reverberated in his mind as they fell off your kiss-bruised lips. They were the same ones Law told you upon offering to help you in your studies. The difference was that his were an act of kindness. Yours were a promise.

He knew what that implied. He truly did. He understood the mechanics, he understood the physiology, he understood the sequence of events. And yet, none of that knowledge accounted for the coil winding in his abdomen, the way his heart rate spiked, or the way he was desperately fighting the urge to make you unravel right then and there—with no clear idea where to begin.

“I need to know you’re certain.”

“I’m not guessing, Law, I’m choosing.” You paused. “…Are you saying that because you aren’t sure you want me to mean it?”

You’re right, and he was well aware of it. This wouldn’t be a simple decision for anyone–especially him. Every outcome had weight, and Law had no room to miscalculate any variables.

“No,” he exhaled, “That’s not it. The problem is, once you mean it, I won’t be able to treat it like something fickle or insignificant.” “I’m not expecting us to contain it.” You didn’t flinch. “I understand what this entails.”

“Is that so?” He glanced down, “If this crosses a line, the crew will notice. It’s not a matter of if it happens, it’s a matter of when. And when they notice, everything changes.”

He went still. Silence fell upon the room once more, before he spoke again, quieter. “What do you think?”

“I’m willing to face it.” “Even if it could make you a liability?” His words had no bite, “You’d become a target to rival crews if the word got out, and you’re not someone I could afford to jeopardize.”

You studied Law’s features for some time. His brows were still furrowed with concern, but his eyes softened. His gaze was less guarded than before, it now held a sincerity that betrayed what he was actually saying. 

You gave yourself a moment to absorb his worries. “I understand where you’re coming from. However, as a crew, we’ve been caught in difficult situations countless numbers of times. We’ve also learned to navigate through the uncertainty.” Taking a step forward, “And after leading this crew for so long, you should know better than anyone that knowing the risks doesn’t mean you run away from everything. It means you decide if they’re worth it.”

As you inched closer, he leaned towards your warmth. In the end, he didn’t want logic or agreement, he needed reassurance. You then turned his own question back to him, “What do you think?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his hands moved to trace your waistline, testing the waters, before circling around to meet on the small of your back. “I think you already know my answer,” he breathed slowly, “It was just a matter of if I was going to say it out loud.”

A smirk played on your lips. “...Now, shall we begin our first lesson?”

“...Yes.”

You didn’t dive in rashly. Gradually bringing your lips to his, you tilted your head into a kiss that showed you were present and safe. The motion was more than just a kiss, it was a demonstration of how to breathe, how to linger, how to let the sensation settle into him. You felt the man soften under your touch further, as if he wasn’t already putty in your hands. Your gentle hands cupped his face, thumbs stroking along his cheekbones as though they could soothe the exhaustion that was carved into him. His palms rose to mirror yours, framing your face as though he feared you’d slip away. 

Bodies pressed together, the uncertainty in your captain seemed to fade. Law grew more confident in his movements, placing a delicate hand on the back of your head. His breathing steadied against yours and the tension in his shoulders loosened, causing you to drape both arms around them.

Your captain pulled away from you, not for distance, but just far enough that he could get a good look at your face. A light blush dusted your cheeks, your dilated pupils were slightly concealed by tousled hair, and it was beautiful in a way that echoed in his mind for longer than he expected.

“Is this okay, Captain?” You chuckled softly, noticing the contemplative look in his eyes.

“...Yeah.” His thumb traced circles on your back as he absorbed the way you called him captain.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to the corners of his mouth. “What about this?” He nodded quietly without hesitation. Soft kisses followed, on his forehead, his temple, peppering his cheeks and jawline. By the time you reached the sensitive skin of his neck, his breathing was deeper, edged with slipping control. A low hum slipped from him, vibrating against your skin.

“You’re testing me…” he mumbled almost begrudgingly, while unconsciously tilting his head upwards to give you more access. His body language had a tendency to betray him. The way a simple touch could make his muscles feel loose, or the way your scent nearly clouded his sense of logic were sensations entirely foreign to him. His hand, which had been lazily tracing circles on your back, trailed down to the hem of your shirt, hesitantly toying with and tugging at it.

You pulled away from his neck, which now bloomed with small purple-red hickeys. Noticing his hand’s placement, you nodded at him, pressing your forehead to his, before backing up to help him take your top off. The submarine air was cool against your skin, but the chill didn’t last when it quickly got replaced by the heat radiating from Law.

He had seen you nude dozens of times as the token doctor of the crew. The routine physical examinations, the wrapping and unravelling of bandages, the inspection of battle wounds, all of which were done with the detached attitude and eyes of a physician. But this wasn’t a patient anymore, this was you. 

Law remained frozen, his hand still grasping your discarded top with wide eyes fixed on you. For a man known to be highly observant, calculated, and understanding of the human form, he looked completely lost. The surgeon in him knew he was looking at the clavicle. The man in him was trying to process why he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

You noticed the flicker of shock in his golden eyes. Who wouldn’t? Taking a deliberate step forward, your hands found the edge of his tank top, fingers brushing up against the warm, tanned skin of his sides. His breath hitched, telling you how much you were affecting him. 

“May I?” You finally asked. He nodded, letting the white fabric slide up his skin to reveal his toned torso and the ink that swirled on his chest. Scars wove across his tan skin, some pale and depressed, others jagged and dark. A happy trail ran down below his navel, disappearing beneath his trousers. You discarded the fabric onto his desk, which was littered with various books and documents.

For a beat, Law simply watched you, his amber eyes looking at your features in a daze. Suddenly remembering his role in the lesson, his hands began to move and he let his lips find yours again.

His hands were large and calloused from years of handling weapons, but they handled you with a surgical precision. He didn’t rush, he explored you with something adjacent to worship. Palms sliding from your back, memorizing the dip of your waist, and tracing the undersides of your ribs, he quietly observed and took mental note of everything that made you shudder, everything that made your breath catch, everything that made you kiss him deeper.

Drifting higher, his fingers made contact with the swell of your breasts, heat impossibly seeping through the fabric of your bra. You let out an encouraging exhale, briefly pulling your face away from his, “That’s it,” You murmured, “You can touch me. I won’t break.”

Swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat before he reached to unclip your bra and cupped your breasts as they fell.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, before craning his head to place a trail of searing kisses across your clavicle, down your sternum, before tentatively nipping at and sucking the soft skin of your nipple. He looked up, mesmerized by the flush of your face and how wide your eyes were blown. 

Dark, wine-colored love bites emerged where his soft lips left your skin, they scattered across your chest and shoulders. “So,” his breath was hot against your skin, “Am I doing this correctly?” You could almost hear a slight smile in his voice. He already knew the answer.

And god, how could you say no to the longing look he wore? You let your fingers intertwine in his hair, guiding him up to your eye level as heat pooled between your legs. Anticipation coiled in you, and drawn by the gentleness of his touch, you reached down, fingers hooking onto the belt loop of his jeans. Looking at him through your lashes, you paused and waited for affirmation that he was ready for the lesson to continue.

After receiving a nod, your hands deftly worked at the buttons of his pants and pulled them down. His length tented his boxers, and from its peak, you could see the faint outline of precum that already clung to the inside of the fabric. Finally removing the last layer of garments, Law shuddered at the air’s chill.

His cock sprang free, tapping against his abdomen in a way that made you breath hitch. It was thicker than you imagined, curving slightly upward–the kind of shape that promised to stretch you perfectly. The tip was flushed a deep, swollen pink, glistening with a bead of pre that trailed down the underside of his shaft, disappearing into the hair of his happy trail.

You realized you were staring, mouth slightly agape, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Law seemed to notice the weight of your gaze, instinctively shifting and averting his eyes. He was used to maintaining awareness of himself, his crew, even the space around him through his devil fruit ability. This was completely foreign. He was undeniably ready for whatever was to come, but still moved with something comparable to caution. 

Regaining your focus, your fingers slowly wrapped around his length, gently stroking it from the base to tip, swiping your thumb around it every so often. His hips trembled, and you took this moment to gradually coax him to lean on the nearby desk. Resting his arm on it, he grounded himself, while his free hand scrunched at the hair on his head.

Law wasn’t new to sexual stimulation by any means, but he wasn’t someone who masturbated on a regular basis either. More than anything, he was a man of pragmatism who knew how to tend to his own needs. He simply viewed it as a way to alleviate built up pressure so he could return to his normal duties.

This, however, was entirely different. When he sought release in solitude, it was a controlled environment with predictable sensation. What was unfolding before him was nothing short of chaotic, messy, unpredictable in his eyes, yet he enjoyed every second of it. The warmth of your skin, your scent, the way your eyes studied him, and how your movements lacked predictability threatened his already breaking composure.

You pressed a deep kiss to his lips, swallowing his suppressed noises as you continued pumping him. You moved, grazing your lips down the column of his throat, revisiting the marks you left at his chest, before continuing down his midsection until you were face to face with his core. 

Your tongue darted out, wetting your lips in a way that made the tension in him tighten. With agonizing slowness, you tentatively pressed a soft kiss to his sensitive tip, making his hips involuntarily jerk. Emboldened, you licked a long stripe from the underside of the base to the slit. The taste was mild and salty as you let it swirl on your tongue.

Law whispered your name, like a plea or a warning–it was unclear. Conflict was written all over him: The surgeon who was well aware of every nerve ending in the body had been reduced to someone who forgot how to breathe. Your hand gave his cock attention at its base, before you released him from your mouth with a resounding pop.

“Use your words, Captain.” Your words puffed cool air on the crown of him, “Or I’ll assume you don’t like it.”

His hand landed in your hair–not to push you away, rather to anchor himself. Your words felt too close to an order for his comfort, “Tch…don’t stop.” He reluctantly choked out, as if admitting it meant submitting. Despite this, he didn’t dare back down.

You didn’t rush. Instead, you let your tongue trace around him once more, savoring his anticipation and the way his hips bucked towards you, before parting your lips and drawing him in. The heat of your mouth was overwhelming on him, as his length was overwhelming for you. You accommodated him inch by inch, moaning softly at the feeling of his hands tightening in your hair and guiding you. 

Bobbing your head back and forth, your throat relaxed and found a rhythm. Rubbing your thighs together, you made a futile effort to alleviate the tightness building within you. His body trembled with the effort of holding back after peering down at your lips wrapped around him. 

“Slow, slow,” he whispered, afraid of the moment ending as soon as it began. Moving his hand from your hair to the side of your face he wiped away the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes from taking so much of him at once. He stifled a louder moan as your tongue swiped around a particularly sensitive vein.

Faint clicks of separation and near-silent smacking sounds echoed in the room until the tension in his body reached a breaking point. Law’s hips began to stutter, his movements losing their typical grace and developing a disorderly rhythm, involuntarily pressing deeper into your throat.

He finally broke, hissing your name repeatedly like a prayer while moaning and tilting his head back to continue his shallow thrusts. With one final twitch, his warm cum spilled out, dripping down the sides of your mouth and onto your tits, painting them milky white.

His high faded into a series of long, trembling exhales. Law didn’t immediately pull away, instead crouching down to tilt your chin up, gaze fixed on you as if he was trying to commit your blushing face to memory. 

His skin was feverish as he pressed deliberate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, “Are you okay?” His voice was low and steady, but not completely unaffected. His eyes lingered on you for longer than necessary, not absentmindedly, but pensively.

“Yes,” you were still trying to catch yourself.

Law couldn’t ignore it. The way your thighs pressed together, the way the rhythm of your breathing didn’t match your actions. A quiet exhale left him, “You didn’t finish.”

Wordlessly, he grasped your hips, turning around to set you down on the desk. It was still warm from his presence. Leaning over you, his uneven breath passed on the shell of your ear. “I want to try something.” A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

There was a pause, just long enough for you to answer or pull away if you wanted. His hands slid down your thighs, parting your legs with an unexpected precision and confidence that made your breath hitch. Law deftly tugged your pants and undergarment past your hips, stripping away the final barrier.

“I’m a quick study,” he murmured against your skin, “...And you’re not someone who’s difficult to read.” He eyed your dripping core, before looking back at your face to ensure this was truly what you wanted. Your lips parted in shock at the sudden shift in dynamic, before you closed them and nodded once more.

Settling his face between your plush thighs, his tongue gingerly swiped from your entrance to your clit, making you squirm. The stubble on his jaw brushed against your adductors, and the motion was enough to make your hips push up, chasing the sensation. Law didn’t recoil from your motion, he instead leaned into it. His hands grasped around you, thumbs running circles on your upper thigh. 

He transitioned from the tender, languid swipes to a more purposeful rhythm. His tongue swirled at a torturously unhurried pace around your most sensitive point, before sucking your clit and lapping up your juices. There was a curious, almost experimental nature to the way he worked, trying different angles and pressure as he silently watched your responses.

This mindset of his began to falter and get drowned out by something almost instinctual as the heat between the two of you intensified. He stopped thinking about how to make you unravel, and started to simply feel what made you quiver, what made you cry out, what made you tangle into his hair, while calibrating himself to match with your needs.

His tongue fucked in and out of your entrance, prodding at your soft walls and feeling them clench around him. He was consumed by your pleasure, overwhelmed by the salt of your skin and the intoxicating taste of your arousal. 

“Law… Law, please,” You gasped as you felt your climax approaching. His speed did not change as your walls began to flutter around his tongue. You grinded your aching heat on him as your pleas faded in a shattered moan. 

“Mhm, that’s it…” He purred, his voice vibrating at your core, “Come on my mouth.” His tongue rode you through your release, his hands squeezing your hips as if he intended to hold you together as you came apart. The only thing he lamented about the moment was the fact that he couldn’t see your blissed-out face with his face between your thighs.

Calming down from your peak, your limbs felt heavy and numb. Law peered up at you from between your legs. His lips and chin glistened with your slick, which he was quick to wipe away as he stood back up to get a better look at you. He interlocked his fingers with yours and traced smooth circles over your knuckles as you caught your breath.

“Are you alright?” He asked before kissing your temple. You managed a weak nod, giving him a faint smile.

Amidst your afterglow, Law pulled free the clothes on the desk from beneath you, straightening up the clutter on it. It seemed he couldn’t entirely shake his habit of taking care of what needed tending to. Careful to avoid disturbing or overstimulating your weary body, he helped you off of the table and into your garments before putting on his own. He didn’t move away once you were dressed, instead putting his hands on your shoulders and smoothing over edges that didn’t need fixing.

“Was your first lesson what you expected?” You finally broke the silence. Bending down to help with some documents that took a fall during the shuffling from earlier, you let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Sit,” he murmured, reaching out to guide you to the chair where the lesson started at, “Don’t push yourself.”

It seemed he couldn’t entirely shake his habit of taking care of what needed tending to. Right now, that meant you. Snaking both arms around your shoulders from behind your seat, he leaned forward slightly. 

“No, it wasn't what I expected...” he paused, arms tightening around you ever so slightly, “But I wouldn’t mind continuing.” 

. . .

After the first session, you and Law developed a routine of sorts. He would teach you about the human body, then you would help him explore the human mind. Your relationship did not have a concrete definition, it extended far beyond professionalism, but fell a bit short of lovers. It wasn’t that you didn’t want clarity or definition, you just couldn’t find an adequate time to approach the topic yet.

His feelings towards you were both obvious and unorganized. There was something undeniably there. However, it was for the best to be the guiding hand for Law to understand those emotions at his own pace, as opposed to making him rush into something he did not have the time or experience to familiarize himself with.

Despite how his anatomy lectures always seemed foreplay-esque, your lessons weren’t always about sex. Many nights, you’d grab a tray of warm tea, watch the fragrant steam curl up into the air, and let your academic exchanges gradually dissolve into casual conversation.

You learned he preferred his tea bitter, but liked his coffee on the sweeter side. He opened up about having a mild appreciation for comics and robots, though you could tell by the way his eyes lit up amidst his otherwise deadpan expression that it was far more than mild. You didn’t call him out on it.

Conversations about life, about the future would often unfold while you made yourself comfortable on his lap. You’d open up about your past and reminisce on the circumstances leading up to you meeting the man. He didn’t speak much about his own history, but you didn’t mind.

The memory and connection of those nights lingered, but it surely didn’t match the heat of the current moment.

Presently, he had you on his lap once more, but the easy conversation was gone. At the mirror in the study, he positioned you with your back flush to his bare chest, so you could see the reflection clearly. His hands didn’t linger and hover as they did during his own lessons. Now, one of them held your leg up, while the fingers on his other hand traced around your entrance at an agonizingly slow pace.

Hickeys were already painted on your shoulders, easy to hide–he wasn’t especially pleased with the interrogation from Penguin and Shachi about the mark you’d left on his neck before. Trembling at how exposed you felt, you shared a kiss with him before burying your face into the crook of his neck.

“No, no,” he smirked quietly, “I want you to watch.” Setting your leg on the chair’s armrest, his hand circled up to your jawline, turning your head towards the mirror with a smug grin.

It seemed that after several sessions together, he’d grown more confident in his actions. Now, there was less hesitation, and far less restraint in the way he moved. In the past, he paused to gauge your reactions, but now he was almost able to anticipate them. 

The hand that was teasing you shifted, eliciting a moan from you as he pressed two digits into your sex. Law made a few gentle scissor movements to adjust you to the stretch, before withdrawing his fingers and plunging them back in. 

“You’re doing so well,” His voice was dripping with something adjacent to condescension, “Look at how your body reacts when I touch you like this.”

Making deliberate “come here” motions with his fingers, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body. Back arching, your ass grinded against his clothed erection, which you felt hardening with each passing moment.

With shaky breaths, you replied, “Yeah? And what about you, Captain?” You shifted on his lap. He didn’t give the satisfaction of a verbal response, but his jaw clenched in the mirror just enough to be noticed. You watched the “A” and “T” inked below his knuckles disappear in and out of your warmth as he wordlessly increased his speed.

Finding that perfect sensitive spot he mapped out over the course of several late nights together, he massaged it in a way that made your eyes roll back. Feeling that familiar pressure building inside you, you opened your mouth to gasp his name, before he caught it with his own. He groaned lowly, letting your tongue sweep into his mouth and memorize his taste. Claiming every moan that slipped past your lips, he maintained the same consistent pace as your climax came. He silently relished in the way you clenched around his fingers. Your legs shook despite Law’s efforts to keep them grounded, and he rode you through the waves of pleasure that bloomed throughout your body.

As the high finally subsided, his hands slowed and withdrew from your heat, making you miss the fullness already. He made a show of licking his fingers clean, which made the coil in you begin to wind again. You stood with shaky legs before turning around to face him and lowering yourself onto your knees, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Wait.” Your hands hovered over his cock, which strained beneath the cloth of his undergarments.

“Would it be possible for me to fully test my knowledge tonight?”

“...You’re ready to go all the way?” “So long as you are.” The corners of his lips pulled up into his signature smirk.

Your hands trailed up, fingers gently curling around his wrist as you whispered “I’m sure.”

Without another word, he slid an arm around your waist. A familiar glint entered his eyes as he lifted two tattooed fingers between you.

“Shambles.”

The air warped and your stomach lurched, making you feel paradoxically weightless and heavy. The floor beneath you vanished, replaced by warmth as you stumbled onto something soft. Head spinning, you instinctively clutched his arms until the sensation subsided.

You finally glanced up, taking in whatever was illuminated in the otherwise dim room. Much like his study, papers and books were scattered about, some placed neatly with purpose, and some strewn and face-up like an afterthought. Kikoku rested on a wall mount across from the bed you found yourself on, just within arm’s reach. Several volumes of Sora, Warrior of the Sea were neatly lined at the top of a bookshelf.

“You look a little thrown off,” his voice interrupted your stunned state, “I do sleep in here, you know.” “Thanks, detective,” you replied dryly, “I’ve just never seen your quarters before. This feels strangely personal.” “I think that what we’re doing is a little more than personal.” Giving him a deadpan look before laughing softly, you shook your head, “Anyways. You wanted to do this in your room?”

His gaze flicked around the room before landing back on yours. “Yeah. If we’re doing this,” his voice was steady, “I want to do it the right way.” 

For a moment, neither of you moved. The steady whir of the submarine’s inner workings filled the room. After a moment, you inched forward, gently nudging him backwards while sliding your fingers along the waistband of his boxers. His lips parted out a quiet inhale as his back made impact with the plush pillows lining his headboard. 

“Tell me if you ever want me to stop, okay?” You gave him a reassuring look. He nodded quickly before liting his hips to help you take off his final layer of clothing. His erection stood, grazing his abdomen.

The mattress dipped as you shuffled yourself forward, your dripping pussy hovering over his pelvis. Tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around his length, tracing the tip around your puffy folds to collect your slick. Aligning him with your entrance, you finally sank down, wincing slightly at the stretch and fullness. His hips twitched and a faint hum reverberated in his chest as he finally bottomed out in you.

“I’m gonna move now.” You whispered. Planting your palms on his broad chest for support, your fingers traced his chest tattoo as you lifted and lowered your hips on him. Law groaned softly at the friction. His hands, which were initially clutching the sheets beneath him, moved up to cup the globes of your ass, helping you ease yourself up and down.

“That’s it,” His eyes were blown wide, “Just–like that.”

Continuing the steady rise-and-fall and grind of your hips, you slumped forward onto him, panting against his skin. He kissed you, shakily whispering rare words of praise into your ear. His hips bucked as your body lifted from him, chasing your warmth. You whimpered as his feet planted against the mattress, giving him more traction to gently thrust upwards. 

Law noticed the shake in your legs, the gradual weakness that was building in your movements. Without hesitation, he grasped your waist, holding you steady, before guiding you into his initial position against the bed. The pillows cradled your shoulders with his residual warmth.

“Wait-” You faltered, “Are you sure?” “You were growing fatigued,” His voice had an uncharacteristic softness to it, “Is this more comfortable?”

“...Yes.” “Good.” He traced his tip along your entrance, “Let me take over.” Fully sliding himself back in, he exhaled sharply. You wrapped your legs around his torso as he leaned over you, slowly thrusting his hips once again. The rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin filled the small room, only interrupted by his shallow breaths. As he moved, a white ring of precum and your own arousal formed around the base of his length, glistening in the dim light. Law leaned over you, his eyes dark with focus, his movements measured and deliberate as he chased your warmth. His cock hit a particularly reactive point along your walls, pulling a quiet sound from you.

“That's the spot?” His voice was rough as he began to piston his hips to reach it with expert precision. His tattooed hands anchored to your hips as he picked up his pace. Law’s eyes were fixed on you, watching your body arch off the mattress every time he bottomed out, the friction sending sparks through your nerves. His hand slid across your body, thumb finding your clit, and he pressed circles into the sensitive nub. Law didn’t look away, he watched your face contort with pleasure in a way that felt clinical, though the flush on his cheeks and his own soft noises showed what laid beneath his composure.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you found a sense of grounding. Your nails scratched along his trapezius, making the man shudder.

“Ah, Law!” You gasped,your back arching off the mattress as tension coiled tight in your core.

He didn’t falter, instead continuing to drive deeper into you, “Yes, yes, let it go,” he groaned.

Your orgasm finally broke, making you tremble beneath him. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him perfectly, forcing a broken inhale from his throat.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna come…” His voice was strained and almost needy.

His own release followed almost immediately, his abdomen flexing and cock twitching as he buried himself deep within you, flooding you as he rode through his own climax. Hips slowing, he rested his forehead to yours as he fought to regain his breath. Law didn’t withdraw, the warmth of his release still clung to your walls.

The silence that followed was thick with the sound of punctuated breaths. Law pulled back to press a lingering kiss to your temple, his thumb brushing away the sweat-stricken strands of hair that stuck to your face. The usual sharpness of his gaze softened to something tender.

When he finally spoke again, his tone had returned to its usual calm, though a lingering warmth remained. His grip tightened just enough to let you know he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

“Stay like this for a moment.”

You pulled him flush against your body, feeling the lingering tension in his muscles fade gradually as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His heart still hammered a little too fast against your chest, and he carefully pulled himself out. A mixture of your and his release trailed out of your entrance and your thighs quivered at the sudden lack of fullness.

“Law?” You whispered, gently lifting his head, “Are you okay? I know that was…a lot.”

He didn’t try to feign collectedness. His eyes snapped to yours, pupils dilated and a little hazy. He let out a shaky exhale, fingers curling into the pillow beside your head.

“I’m fine, I just didn’t think I’d feel like… that.” He finally admitted after a beat of silence, voice dropping to a raw, vulnerable register you’ve never heard before.

The past several minutes came back to him in fragments. The way you looked at him when you came, the way you held him so tightly, the sounds and sensations you pulled from each other without entirely meaning to. 

It was unfamiliar. It was terrifying. It was perfect.

And he did not know how to handle the crumbling walls he kept around himself, leaving only the man underneath. His thumb traced your lip, pressing a warm, lingering kiss that tasted of salt and something unmistakably him. His knee came up between your thighs, easing them apart as though he couldn’t help himself. The hand resting on your jaw trembled lightly–not from hesitation, but from reverence. He was completely undone.

“But I want to feel you like that again,” He confessed, “I’m not ready to let it go yet.”

. . .

A/N: how does he fit all that into his shitass atlanta baggy jeans. i did not anticipate 5.5k words wtf. anyways, this was my first time writing smut, so if you've got any feedback, I'd love to hear it! i was thinking of either ace x reader or stoner!law x reader next..

[grapeboom]

Mapping The Surface

(Trafalgar Law x gn!Reader)

wordcount: 1.7k

Tags/warnings: mutual pining, sensual, mildly suggestive, fluff, tension, mild angst making out, medical terminology (and examination if you squint), no use of y/n

Law found you completely absorbed in one of his medical textbooks, so immersed that you initially didn't register his presence. Instead of scolding you or dismissing your interest in the field, he offers to give you some anatomy lessons.

If there was one thing to know about Trafalgar Law, it was that he doesn't waste words.

"Watch."

And when he did speak, it meant he decided you were worth the time.

With precision that lived up to his name as the "Surgeon of Death," his steady fingers drifted over your neck, close enough to give you goosebumps and make your hair stand on end, but too distant to actually feel anything.

“This right here is your sternocleidomastoid. Do you remember what it does?” His voice was a low rumble. You stared at the mirror he placed you in front of and swallowed dryly at your reflection.

This had all started when he caught you with your nose buried in one of his old anatomy textbooks, unsupervised and aware that you were probably crossing some sort of boundary. You braced yourself for it, too. A stern talking-to, a warning, or even the book simply being taken out of your hands. Law liked his privacy about as much as the next person, if not a little more, and clearly, you were in the wrong! 

So, when you inevitably got caught red handed (nothing can get past the captain), it came as a shock when his stern expression softened, “Do you understand any of it?”

In the midst of your bewilderment, the best answer you, an aspiring medical professional, could conjure up was a shrug and a nervous grin. His compassion flustered you.

At that point, he’d taken the book from you (which was to be expected), and flipped through the chapter you left off on–the skeletal system. After a beat of silence, he finally turned back to you, “Then I’ll teach you.”

. . .

Since then, you had come to know every bone in the body by name, location, and function, understood the role of osteoblasts, and studied various orthopedic conditions and their treatments. Now, you were exploring skeletal muscles. Despite this being your nth lesson over the past several weeks, you could never quite adjust to the…intensity of his lectures.

“Flexion and contralateral rotation,” you refocused and the words finally tumbled out. He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he watched your reflection with half-lidded but sharp eyes. A faint hum of approval left his throat, “Good. Show me.” Inked hands, traced your jaw to tilt your head, demonstrating the motion. Your head slowly tilted forward before carefully rotating. His touched wasn’t forceful, rather it was expectant, as if he figured you were going to follow through.

“Don’t memorize names,” Law’s hands relaxed, but didn’t leave your neck. You nodded, although your focus had admittedly been alternating between the lesson and the way his breath ghosted over your skin. “It’s more important to understand physiology. You cannot fix anything if you don’t know how something moves…or breaks.” An intimate quiet took over the room, interrupted only by the familiar creaks and groans the Polar Tang made with the ocean’s turbulence. You abashedly averted your gaze, in fear he could read your thoughts. Despite this, you felt his eyes linger on you, studying your features and your reactions.

Your captain finally broke the silence, “The sternocleidomastoid, in my opinion, is a solid conceptual transition point between the trunk and the craniofacial muscles,” his voice dropped an octave as you allowed his hand to slide upward, fingertips tracing the cordlike muscle from your clavicle to the underside of your jaw. His touch grew lighter, transitioning from the firmness of an instructor to the feather-light graze of someone focused on sensation.

“Let’s start with the masseter.”

. . .

He broke from his upright stance and discarded his coat, allowing his tattooed arms to be exposed. Instead of pulling away from you, he pulled up an ottoman and sank down, sitting in the narrow space between the mirror and yourself so you were eye-to-eye with him.

You took a steadying breath, “The masseter…” You moved your hands to press your fingertips into the angle of your jaw, before being halted by Law.

“This time, I want you to do the talking. I’ll do the demonstrating. Try your best to teach me about the craniofacial muscles.”

He gently took your wrists and guided them to his own face. His palms were roughened from both training and the meticulous handwashing of a doctor.

You realized that you’ve never been this close to your captain. You’ve always studied him from a distance, but never close enough to see the cracks in his composed exterior. You noticed the exhaustion in his eyes, the dark rims from sleepless nights and a past he never spoke of. There was a rough texture to the stubble along his chin and jawline, a stark contrast to his meticulous demeanor. And then, there was his scent. He smelled of a combination of sterile antiseptic, salty ocean air, and wood.

“The masseter,” you repeated after coming back to your senses, your voice miraculously steady despite the way you could feel your face heating up. Despite your attempts to keep the physical contact clinical, both you and him were well aware of how your fingertips betrayed you, lingering just a little too long on the heat of his skin.

The lesson continued. You recalled the names of the muscles as the textbook states, before explaining their respective functions and motions. Your voice found a practiced rhythm, a subconscious attempt to prove to yourself that you won’t crumble under such pressure. Law blinked to demonstrate the orbicularis oculi muscles, his eyelashes casting flickering shadows along his cheekbone. You couldn’t help but use this brief moment to admire the amber of his eyes.

When you reached the zygomaticus major, the corners of his mouth lifted to demonstrate its contraction. The ghost of a smile played on his lips, and seeing that sliver of warmth chipped away at the professional detachment you tried so hard to maintain. Your hands drifted lower, cupping his face and brushing the hollows of his cheeks.

“And this is the… buccinatus?” You faltered.

He corrected you, “Close. Buccinator.” 

“Right.” You pretended not to notice his subtle lean into your palms, his weight shifting towards you ever so slightly. “It’s responsible for compressing the cheeks, I remember that at least.”

Hesitantly, your palms slid down. Your thumbs rested just above his chin to trace the muscle, an attempt to maintain a safe distance in fear of overstepping an invisible line.

“Then, we have the orbicularis oris.”

You looked down at his lips, before quickly glancing aside, overly mindful of your lingering eyes. You shifted your focus upwards to his, opening your mouth to speak, before you noticed that Law was gazing at your own parted lips.

The silence between the two of you grew heavy with silent tension. You froze like a deer in headlights as he observed the way your breath hitched and how you tried to find your voice once again.

“Orbicularis oris, it’s functions are…” You whispered. The words died in your throat, a futile distraction from the sudden shrink in distance between the two of you. When did he get this close?

He didn’t wait for you to finish your sentence–or your thoughts. Law cupped your face, mirroring your own hand placement on him, and bridged the agonizing inch of distance. When his lips met yours, the firm resolve he always had seemed to melt away. What remained was gentle and grounding. One of his hands slowly slid from your cheek to the nape of your neck, steadying you as though he feared you might break. Your fingers tangled into his dark, messy locks of hair, deepening the contact and eliciting a low groan from him.

With this, his hold on you tightened and he surrendered to the contact. It was as if the fear of losing control got replaced with the fear of letting you go. You wrapped an arm around his torso, pulling yourself flush onto him. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you granted by opening your mouth wider and letting him in. Every frantic press of his lips to yours, every slide of his tongue grew dizzying and intoxicating. You trailed a path of searing, wet kisses from his lips to the corner of his mouth, nipping at the skin and making him shudder.

The kiss didn’t end so much as it slowly receded like the tide. Law was the one to break the seal first, pulling back just enough to breathe, though the separation and loss of warmth ached. Law stayed close, his forehead pressing to yours. Your breaths mixed, ragged and hot. The lingering heat between you and him felt as if it were fading with the lack of contact, and the air suddenly felt too empty.

As the initial rush of that break in composure faded, the silence that rushed into the room felt cold. You felt the change. His hands, tenderly holding you, suddenly stiffened. His breath, ragged and warm against your lips, hitched, before steadying into something controlled.

With grace, he rose from his sitting position. His eyes swirled with something completely unreadable. His hands, which cradled your face earlier, moved down to rest at your hips as helped you up from your seat. Your legs felt like liquid as he took a small step back from your personal space. The air was electric, charged with all of the unspoken words from countless lessons prior.

“Damn it.” He exhaled. His words sounded like surrender, rather than anger, “Do you understand how difficult it is to pretend you don’t affect me?”

He huffed out a half-laugh, half–sigh. His grip around your waist around you loosened so he could get a better look at your face.

“Since I was a child, I studied the inner workings of the human body. I could tell you about how heart rate variability decreases under stress. The autonomic nervous system responds to external stimuli, such as temperature, movement, and breathing patterns.”

He paused, brushing the hair out of your face.

“What I can’t explain is why these things are triggered by your presence, when they shouldn’t be.”

You finally pinpointed what you saw in your captain’s eyes: Uncertainty. Law was far from an emotionless machine, but he kept his cards close to his chest, making him largely unreadable. This was one of the first times in a long while that he faced a problem without having a thorough plan to manage it– because the easy way out would be to ignore all the gentle touches, lingering gazes, soft-spoken words you and he exchanged. Pretend it never happened. But his heart, body, and soul betrayed him, telling him otherwise.

“...Does it bother you?”

Your question hung in the air, fragile but intimidating. A look of appalment flickered across his features. Law leaned in, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

“It doesn’t just bother me,” he whispered, voice laced with raw honesty, “It’s a complication. An unpredictable variable. There’s no way to cut out the way you make me feel without disrupting my own balance.”

Law took your hands, tracing your knuckles, “...But more than anything, I want to understand this.”

You pressed your lips to his.

“Then I’ll teach you.”

Part 2 (MDNI)

. . .

A/N: Hi guys! first time posting on this account :D yaay! I had a lot of fun writing this :) Initially, I was going to write smut, but things started getting too sweet and angsty and i didn't wanna take away from that. should i write this in another chapter?

[shusagi]

Wow I need to be more active on here, I have a lot of ideas but never any time 🥴

[studiobeebo]

YOU KNOW I GOT U AND UR MANS MARIA @the-evil-pumpkin 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

P - PDA

Akitaru Obi x Reader

as always if y’all enjoy this please remember that reblogs are greatly appreciated :D

Obi isn’t really overzealous with the amount of PDA he exhibits, but he is certainly not shy.

For starters, there aren’t many times that the two of you even have the chance to be romantic in any way in public because you often don’t have the time or the energy to be out and about. Even on your ‘days off duty’, there’s still always something that needs to be done around the base of company eight, more so for Obi considering it’s kind of his duty to make sure things are always running smoothly there, but even with his role as captain aside, he’s been a bit of a busy body for as long as you’ve known him.

He’s almost always moving in some way, whether it’s cleaning or ‘whipping the new kids into shape’, or more often than not working out in one way or another, so with that in mind it wouldn’t be all that hard for anyone to guess that when it came to being around you, he had a habit of having rather busy hands.

His touches and quick pecks weren’t ever really sexual in any way since he generally stuck to the rule of ‘there’s a time and place for everything’, but he almost always seemed to have a hand on you whenever you got the chance to go out together.

Holding your hand, snaking an arm around your waist, loosely touching the small of your back, it was like his hands were stuck to you like glue, though if you’d tease him about it he’d just laugh and say he couldn’t help himself, which in his eyes was the honest truth.

He liked being close to you and as the proud and confident man that he was, he couldn’t say he didn’t like to show off a little bit in public. He was more than just fortunate to have you and he liked the idea of everyone knowing it.

That being said he was never one to make you uncomfortable and aggressive PDA was something he wouldn’t be caught dead doing. There were never any cases of instigating touches or heated kisses since once again, he believed things like that were more private affairs that he liked to keep between the two of you regardless, but he still loved you all the same and he wasn’t anywhere near being afraid to show it.