Reader is in a quiet moment with someone they're close to, when those three little words slip out before they realize it.
Characters:
Beckman
Issho "Fujitora"
Kuzan
Notes:
Also found on Ao3!
And yes, I haven't posted in a while and I am so sorry!
â Check my page for Requests! â
Beckman
The infirmary is quiet, aside from your pained breathing. You'd been stupid, not thinking, barely aware of everything around you - aside from the marine barreling down on you from behind. Beckman's shout hadn't registered until it was too late.
"Yer an idiot," he growled, wrapping the bandages around the last cut on your arm. Hongo, sitting in the corner at his deck, looked a little put out that Beckman had refused to let him help you, but also a little relieved because you were known to refuse help when hurt.
âWincing as his rough hands brushed your battered skin, you didn't meet his gaze. "I was doing fine until then, okay? The guy moved faster-"
"Ye shouldn't have been out there in the first place!" Beckman's uncharacteristic snap shut you up more than his words. When your jaws clicked shut and your bottom lip quivered, he sighed and gentled his tone. "I don't wanna have to save yer ass like that again, alright?" He tucked the end of the bandage under an edge.
You sniffed, wiping your free hand across your face. "Shanks said it was okay. Said I could handle it." You watched him from the corner of your eye.
Beckman's eye twitched, his jaw tightening. "Shanks is a drunken fool who overestimates ye." His hand trailed up your arm carefully. "Ye need to be careful." He took a deep breath. "I don't wanna think about what would happen if I lost ye. I love-" His jaw shut with a snap.
For a heartbeat, the only sound in the room was your breathingâand then it hitched.
You looked up at him.
Beckman froze. His eyes closed, a silent curse crossing his lips.
His hand was still on your arm, thumb resting just above the bandage, like he hadnât realized heâd stopped moving. Slowly, his fingers curled, then loosened again. He didnât meet your eyes. Not at first.
ââŚForget that,â he muttered, voice rougher than before.
But it was too late.
Your brows knit together, confusion bleeding into something softer. âBeckâŚ?â
He swore under his breath. The sound was quiet, almost embarrassed. When he finally looked at you, his expression was tightâjaw set, ears reddening slowly. âI didnât mean to say that,â he said, gruff and low. âWasnât the time.â
He let out a slow breath through his nose, like he was steadying himself, thumb brushing onceâunthinkingâover your skin.
ââŚDoesnât mean it isnât true.â
The infirmary felt even quieter after that.
You reached up, laying your hand over his. "Beck..." Everything felt too loud, too still, too heavyâbut you felt like floating.
In the corner, Hongo's gaze bore into Beckman, but the doctor wisely stayed quiet.
Taking a breath, you lifted Beckman's hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. "I love you, too."
His breath caught, lips parted briefly. His gaze slid to yours. "Ye-"
âYou cut him off with a kiss. Soft, lips barely pressed against his, and when you pulled back, his cheeks were quickly turning a shade suspiciously close to Shanks' hair. "But maybe don't call me an idiot before you say it again."
Issho
The faint clink of bones caught your attention as you passed the Admiral's office, barely audible above the distant cry of birds through the open window. Curious, you peeked inside and spotted Issho - er, Fujitora - playing some sort of game in a box. You hadn't been here too long - you'd just transferred from a South Blue base only a year ago - and spent some time with the Admiral, but still found it awkward referring to him as his alias.
His hands stopped. "You don't have to sneak a look. If you are curious, you are welcome to come inside."
You hesitated in the doorway, unsure if you were allowedâor if you even wanted to interrupt him. But something about the soft clatter of the pieces, the focused tilt of his head, drew you in. You stepped inside, letting the door click softly behind you. âI⌠didnât know you played games,â you said, trying to sound casual.
Isshoâs head tilted slightly, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. âItâs not often I have the time. And, admittedly, I am better at strategy than speed.â He gestured to the board. âSit. If youâd like.â
You lowered yourself into the chair across from him, taking in the careful way he arranged the pieces. The quiet was comfortable, almost⌠safe. He moved slowly, deliberately, but there was a concentration in his posture that made it hard to look away.
âI didnât think Admirals had hobbies,â you said softly, leaning forward a little.
He hummed, a low sound of agreement. âWe do, but it is not often we can act upon them. Most of our days are taken by duties, reports⌠the sea. Sometimes it is necessary to find small moments of peace.â His fingers hovered over a piece, then settled. âSmall victories remind one that not all is dictated by the worldâs cruelty.â
You smiled, drawn in by the sincerity in his tone. âI can see that. I⌠I like watching you play. Thereâs a calm to it.â You'd noticed his focus before, and accompanied him to a few gambling houses in the past, but never seen him like this.
He smiled softly, shifting a few pieces.
You watch as he carefully moves a piece, his fingers brushing the board with meticulous attention. âYou concentrate well,â you remark softly. âEven in small things, itâs⌠kind of mesmerizing.â
Issho pauses mid-motion, head tilting, and for a brief moment, you think you see a flicker of somethingâsurprise? Or maybe just curiosity. âI suppose⌠it can be,â he murmurs. His voice is low, almost shy, carrying a weight you arenât used to hearing.
The room falls quiet again, the faint clink of pieces punctuating the silence. You lean slightly forward, feeling unusually bold. âI⌠I like spending time with you like this. Itâs⌠different. Comfortable.â You weren't exactly a closed book towards others, but you weren't all that open usually.
"You make things feel...lighter," he admitted quietly, his fingers stilling over the pieces. "Maybe that's why I love you."
The words lingered in the air between you, soft and unguarded.
For a second, neither of you moved.
Isshoâs fingers twitched where they hovered above the board. Then, slowlyâtoo slowlyâhis hand lowered, the piece clicking against the wood with a sound that felt far too loud. ââŚI,â he beganâand stopped.
His brows drew together faintly. His head tilted, as though he were listening not to you, but to himself. To the echo of what heâd just said.
âOh.â
Color bloomed across his cheeks almost immediately.
âIâplease forgive me,â he said quickly, straightening in his chair. One hand lifted, palm out, as if to halt the moment itself. âThat was notâI did not intend toââ
You stared at him, heart hammering. âIsshoâŚâ
He froze at the sound of his name.
âI spoke without thinking,â he rushed on, flustered now, words tumbling over one another. âYou were kind, and I was careless, and that is not something an Admiral should say so lightlyââ
âBut you meant it,â you said softly.
That stopped him completely.
His shoulders sagged, just a little, as though the effort of holding himself together had finally caught up to him. His voice, when he spoke again, was quieterâuncertain.
ââŚYes,â he admitted. âI did.â
Silence fell, heavy, as if he were using his devil fruit to enhance it.
He bowed his head, mortified. âI am sorry. I should not have placed that burden upon you so suddenly. Please, do not feel obligated to respondââ
You reached across the table before you could overthink it, your fingers brushing his wrist.
He startled at the contact, breath hitching.
âI donât feel burdened,â you said gently. âI feel⌠warm.â
His head lifted slowly toward you, expression unreadable âbut his fluster was unmistakable. The faint smile that touched his lips was nervous, hopeful, and entirely unguarded. ââŚYou are far too kind to me,â he murmured.
You smiled. âMaybe. Or maybe I just care.â
He swallowed, nodding once, carefully, as if anchoring himself. âThen⌠perhaps,â he said, voice still shaky, âit is not so terrible that I spoke the truth aloud.â
Chuckling softly, you stood and circled the desk. He froze as you stopped by him. Gently, you laid your hand against his shoulder. "Issho, I'm glad you did." Leaning forward, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I-I think I love you, too."
His cheeks reddened, but his smile widened.
You'd wondered for a while if you had felt something beyond basic care for a while, but after his words a moment ago, now you knew what it was.
Issho blinked, taken aback, and for a heartbeat, he said nothing. Then, slowly, as if testing the air, he let his fingers brush yours where your hand rested on his shoulder.
âIââ His voice caught. ââŚI am glad,â he murmured finally, almost shyly, the tiniest laugh escaping him. âTruly.â
You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. The tension in the room eased, replaced by something light and quiet, like the first calm after a storm.
He leaned just slightly closer, careful, unsure, and you mirrored him, letting your foreheads touch for a fleeting moment. The game on the board, the pieces, the officeâall of it faded into background noise.
âGuess weâll have to find more of these quiet moments,â you whispered.
Isshoâs laugh was low, still hesitant, but genuine. âYes,â he agreed softly. âAnd perhaps⌠we shall, together.â
Kuzan
The air felt too cold, even here. You hadn't seen Kuzan in days - after he'd been brought back to the marine ship, barely alive from his fight with Sakazuki, he'd disappeared almost the moment he was conscious.
Now, a few islands away, you found him leaning against a palm tree, hat pulled low over his face, a getaway bag next to him clearly full of clothes, rations, and maybe a few personal items.
Approaching him cautiously, you stopped a few feet away. "Um...Aokiji?"
"Kuzan." His low voice came automatically. "Not Aokiji anymore."
You hesitated, unsure how to close the distance. The wind tugged at your clothes, and the faint sound of waves undercut the quiet. âI⌠didnât know where else to find you,â you said softly. You knew this island. He'd taken you here once, maybe a few months before the Marineford War.
He didnât respond immediately, just shifted his weight slightly, hat shadowing his eyes. When he finally looked at you, the sharp blue of his gaze softened in the fading light. âYou shouldnât have come,â he murmured, though there was no real edge to his words. âI need⌠space.â
You took a careful step closer. âI⌠I just wanted to make sure you were okay,â you said, keeping your voice low. âYouâve been through so much, and⌠I was worried.â
He let out a quiet sigh, shoulders slumping just slightly. âIâm fine,â he murmured, but his tone lacked conviction. He didnât move away, though, and you saw the faint tension in his hands, the way they hovered near the bag.
âNot⌠not fine, I mean. You fought Sakazuki.â Your words were tentative, almost a whisper. âYou could have⌠I donât know⌠lost yourself out there.â
His gaze flicked to you, and for a moment, the weight of everything seemed to settle on him. The blue of his eyes looked tiredâworn downâbut something in the way he studied you made your chest tighten.
"We can't be seen together." His words were sharper than his ice.
You nodded slowly, keeping a careful distance. âI know⌠I just⌠I canât help worrying about you.â
Kuzanâs jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. âYou shouldnât.â His voice was low, almost a growlâbut tired. Then, after a pause, softer: ââŚAnd yet, you do.â
You stepped a fraction closer, careful not to crowd him. âI do. I canât stop.â
The corners of his mouth twitched, but it wasnât a smile. His hands flexed at his sides, and for a moment, he didnât speak. The wind tugged at the edge of his coat, but he didnât move to button it.
Finally, almost without thinking, he let the words slip, rough and unpolished: âI⌠love you.â
The sound of it startled you. Your heart lurched, eyes widening slightly. Kuzan blinked, immediately realizing the weight of what heâd said. He looked down, the blue of his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat, and ran a hand through his hair, clearly mortified.
âI⌠didnât mean toââ he began, but the words faltered.
You stepped closer, gently lowering a hand onto his arm. âYou meant it,â you said softly, quiet enough that the wind wouldnât carry it beyond the trees.
He froze at the touch, breath hitching. A faint color, almost imperceptible, brushed his cheeks. âI⌠I didnât mean to say it out loud,â he whispered, voice rough, distant, like he was speaking to himself more than to you. âItâs⌠complicated. You shouldnâtââ
You pressed your hand against his arm, grounding him. âItâs okay. I⌠I care too.â
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, uncertain, hesitant. He swallowed, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. ââŚYou do?â he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, eyes soft. âI do.â
The air slowly cooled further. "You shouldn't." He turned his head away, then stood. You were about to question why he leaned awkwardly when you noticed the ice creeping up his pant leg.
Where nothing was supposed to be.
"Why shouldn't I?" you asked softly, stepping forward but unable to look away from where ice had reformed to replace the missing piece of his leg. Reaching out, you grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.
He stilled when you caught his sleeve.
For a moment, you thought he might pull away anywayâbut he didnât. His shoulders slumped instead, just slightly, like the fight finally left him now that there was no one left to fight.
ââŚBecause,â he said quietly, âthis isnât a life I should drag anyone into.â
The ice along his leg crept higher, subtle and unconscious, frost spiderwebbing where flesh should have been. He didnât seem to notice. Or maybe he didâand just didnât care.
âI lost,â he continued, voice low, steady in that tired way of his. âNot just the fight. I lost⌠what I thought I stood for.â He glanced back at you, eyes heavy beneath the brim of his hat. âAnd I donât know what I am now.â
You tightened your grip on his sleeve. âYouâre still you.â
A breath escaped him, almost a laugh, but there was no humor in it. âYeah,â he murmured. âThatâs what worries me.â
He shifted, finally turning to face you fully. The ice receded a little as he focusedâcontrol returning, piece by piece. His gaze lingered on your face, unreadable, searching.
âI shouldnât have said it,â he admitted. âThat wasnât fair to you.â
âBut you meant it,â you said again, softer this time.
He hesitated. Then nodded once. ââŚYeah.â
The word felt heavier than the confession itself.
You stepped closer, close enough that you could feel the cold radiating from him, close enough that he could have stopped youâif he wanted to. Instead, he stayed still.
âIâm not asking you to stay,â you said quietly. âAnd Iâm not asking for promises.â Your thumb brushed against his sleeve, just barely. âI just wanted you to know⌠you donât have to carry this alone.â
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his hand lifted, hesitant, and settled over yours where it gripped his coat. His touch was coldâbut steady. ââŚYou make it harder to walk away,â he murmured.
You smiled faintly. âGood.â
That finally earned you a real reactionâa soft huff of breath, almost a laugh. His forehead tipped forward until it rested briefly against yours, careful, restrained.
âI donât know what comes next,â he said. âBut⌠Iâm glad you came.â
You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the edge of his jawâbrief, quiet, something just for the two of you. âSo am I.â
When he stepped back, it was slow. Reluctant. But when he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder once more. ââŚBe safe,â he said.
reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point
A Beckman X F!Reader series, this was requested! Shooting Lessons (Part 1 & 2) was the first request, but The Northern Compass follows F!Reader from when they join the Red-Hair's and their relationship with Beckman.
This is an Ongoing, Canon Compliant series - with the exception of Caught in the Current, all stories will be by Request only!
See below for rules and format for requesting the next story!
Request Guidelines
Follow Blogs Overall Request Rules!!!
NSFW is allowed
Must stay canon compliant
Beckman, F!Reader, or canon characters cannot die
All stories are F!Reader's POV
Requests must fit within the series timeline. Time skips between stories are allowed, but stories must remain consistent with the NC timeline
Stories can be written up to Marineford at the moment - I will not write them beyond that as of this time
Do not include canon events - they may be referenced, but F!Reader cannot be directly involved
Look at existing stories before sending a request!!!
Request Format
Character(s): F!Reader, or F!Reader + Beckman/Other characters
Type: One-shot or Multi-chapter
Theme: Fluff, Angst, Comfort, or NSFW (if NSFW, please note kink/idea if applicable)
After Which Story: Want it to take place after the latest, or between two others? - Cannot be before Caught in the Current
Extra Details: Any specific situation, dialogue prompt, or mood you want (optional)
Current details
Pairing: Beckman & F!Reader - they are not dating as of Shooting Lessons yet, but interest is known
F!Reader - age 20, relatively new to pirate life
Current Series & Timeline
Caught in the Current ~ 7-10 months after Shanks lost his arm
Shooting Lessons - Part 1 | Part 2 - GN!Reader ~ 4 months later
Hey there! Hope you are doing lovely! I really love your writing and have been meaning to make a request from you since i love your writing so much! So here we go so imagine the red hair pirates at one of their terrioties they own at an island and they explore until they come across this little boutique that sews and designs clothes and sell them all handmade along with other items like textile and different sewing/textile martinals and there they met reader that's this really sweet lady with the sweetest personlity ever and not only that her handmade clothes is really impressive like she makes really beauiful clothes and she knows her thing for real lmao- Which catches "red hair" shanks eye and he immediately wanted reader on his crew and so he begins visting the shop more often just to just chat and see the reader eventually during the last day the crew is here shanks asks reader to join his crew and reader is unsure but after some convicing joins and becomes the crew's "sewing" girl!
Note : Also sorry if this all over the place i wanted to leave some space for you to throw in your own ideas/details if anything comes up and not be too detailed to the point where it becomes boring and exuse my english and spelling! I hope it's okey by you of course! You don't have to accept my request!>3 Again sorry for my messy writing!
Anyways have a good day and be kind to yourself!đŠˇ
The Ship's Tailor
Type:
Story
Warnings:
Fluff | Flirting
Summary:
You lived in a small town, on a small island within Red-Haired Shanks' territories. And the Yonko himself would come to your shop every time he visited. This time though was different. Excited as always, he managed to get you to join the crew for a drink....and even offered you a spot on the Red Force. And despite your reservations, you aren't sure if you really want to leave...or if you'd regret it.
Characters:
Shanks, F!Reader, Red-Haired Pirates
Word Count:
4900~
Notes:
This isn't quite what was asked, but I stayed as close as I could!
Also found on Ao3!
Took longer than expected, but finally got this done! Enjoy!
â Check my page for Requests! â
Anchor Cove was small enough that everyone knew when someone sneezedâand yet it was draped in the protection of one of the most infamous pirate crews alive. Your island wasn't much, but you felt better having their flag hanging above the island's only port.
You also felt better because they made frequent stops.Â
The bell over the door chimed, and you didnât even have to look upâyou already knew whoâd stroll in like he owned the place. Sure enough, a shock of red hair filled the doorway, grin already in place. You turned to greet him as he approached the counter. "Shanks, what are you doing back so soon? It's only been..." You quickly do the math in your head. "Three months? Surprised you didn't come back sooner."
He smiled sheepishly, holding up a bag. "Wondered if you could repair some clothes."
Sighing, you took the bag. "I swear you save all your repairs for me," you teased him.
He grinned. "Donât give me that look. I swear these tears just⌠happen around me." He glanced around, bright sunlight shining on him through the display window. "Mind if I take a look and see what you've been doing lately?" The scent of sun-heated leather filled the room from the leather goods in the window. His gaze roamed over the bags, pouches, and satchels, the line of autumn-island inspired clothes you'd recently finished, and the racks of just about everything else that could be considered clothing.
Anchor Cove might be small, but that was only because the island itself couldn't host a larger town. Despite that, it was a popular spot, and you did very well out here.
Laughing, you headed for the back room. "You always do." You knew he'd buy at least an armful of things, some of which you weren't sure he even wanted, but he would get for the ship or crew anyway. Setting down the bag, you couldn't help but appreciate that everything was clean. You could've cleaned them yourself, but that would have added far too much time.
Sitting at your sewing machine, you checked through the clothes briefly.Â
Mostly Shanks' stuff, you noticed, a few pieces that looked like they belonged to Gab or Snake, Roux's favorite shirt, Beckman's sash - mostly stuff from the senior officers, though there's some pieces you didn't recognize. 'Well, at least they pay well.' It was a lot, but didn't mind. You got to work on the simple things first. You had a feeling he'd been saving up things rather than attempting repairs himself, or letting someone on the crew do it. 'Some of these are so minor, I wonder why he even bothers bringing them here.'
By the time you were done with those, you could hear a few more people in the shop. Laughter rang out, and you smiled, recognizing Limejuice's voice. Hongo's exasperated sigh followed soon after a crash, and Beckman's stern voice was met with a collective groan.
Chuckling to yourself, you stepped out of your workroom in time to see him and Shanks picking up your stand of bags. "You guys don't have to do that," you protested, moving around the counter.
Beckman's lips curved into a smirk as you approached, a cigarette between them as always; thankfully, he remembered your request and it was unlit. "Don't worry about it, doll. Those idiots knocked it down, not fair for ye to pick up after our mess." He set the last bag on a stand, then turned to where a group of them were waiting near the door. "Get yer asses outta here before I kick 'em out." He walked after them as they scrambled out the door.
Shaking your head, you tidied up the display. You were used to their attitudes by now, Beckman's little nicknames, the chaos that inevitably followed - sometimes you wondered what you'd do if they ever stopped showing up. It wasn't until you were nearly done that you noticed Shanks standing there still. "Did you need something, captain?"
He held up a satchel - one from your latest line. The fine-grain leather was embossed with swirling designs you'd seen in the clouds one afternoon. "Wanted to get this." He ran his thumb over the clasp; the gold shone in the shop's lighting.
You hum, cocking a brow and trying not to smile. "Didn't think you'd go for something like that." It was small, nearly a clutch, but you doubted he really wanted it. At least for himself. "That one's 300 beri, but are you sure you don't want something larger?" You gestured towards the hanging display of simpler but larger satchels.
He handed you a small pouch. "It's fine. I wanted something a bit smaller I could carry around the ship," he grins. "But...also wanted to ask you something."
Biting back a sigh, you pull out the correct amount, tucking it away in the till before handing the retied bag to him; he'd tried to overpay - again. "I have repairs to do," you remind him, drumming your fingers on the countertop. "And if you want me to finish within a few days," it would take at least that to get the right materials and fix the remaining clothes, "I should get back to work."
He beamed and tucked the bag into his sash. "I was wondering if you'd like to join the crew tonight at the tavern."
You paused, then looked at him. "I don't know..." You hesitated to say yes. You enjoyed hanging out with the crew, but in all the times they'd come to the island, it had always been when they came to the shop or saw you in the market and tagged along. A good amount of them were massive flirts, though they were always respectful, but you'd never been with them at the tavern.
Besides, you weren't much of a drinker, and you knew Shanks practically breathed alcohol, he drank so much. You weren't against drinking, but spending a night at the tavern had never been that appealing before.
"Please?" He flashed you what you took to be his most charming smile, but all you could think of was an oversized, excited child. "I promise theyâll behave. You can sit with me and Beckmanâhe bites less." He leaned back, hand hooked in his sash, eyes bright.
You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. "Shanks...I have your work to do, and I need to get out the next seasons line starting tonight." The idea of sitting with them was temping, especially as Beckman was far more level-headed and tempered the crew's antics, but still. "You can join me in the market tomorrow though. A new shipment of materials showed up and I need to pick some up that wasn't delivered here."
He pouted, shoulders slumping. "Come on, you never come to the tavern with us!"
Rubbing your face with both hands, you tried to ignore the pleading look on his face. "Shanks..." 'How in the hell is this man a Yonko?' You'd heard the stories, seen the papers, but it was beyond difficult to imagine this adult child as the terrifying monster he was made out to be. Groaning, you lowered your hands. 'If he gets drunk, I'll just steer him towards Beckman and hope he gets the damn hint!' You weren't exactly thrilled with possibly dealing with him drunk again - last time was bad enough. "Fine. One night."
"Yes!"Â He came around the counter, pulling you into a hug.Â
Giggling, you tried to pull away. "Alright, you don't have to drag me there, okay!" Grinning, you sighed as he laid his chin on your shoulder. "I'll be there about 8; I want to at least take a good look at the damage you brought me."
His grin matched yours. "Deal. And if you don't show up, I'll send Beckman to track you down."
Your face burned, and you pulled away. "Oh no, you are not doing that again!" The last time he'd sent Beckman to grab you from the shop, the older man had literally thrown you over his shoulder and carried you - laughing the entire time as you struggled - to where the crew had been partying on the beach. "I promise I'll be there, just...please not Beckman."
He laughed, heading for the door. "You better, or maybe I'll come get you myself."
You groaned, pressing your palms to your face, as the door closed. 'Oh seas, why do these pirates have to be like this?' But it was one night, you told yourself. Just one night.
The tavern was packed. You weren't surprised - it was always packed when they showed up - but you almost had a hard time weaving and ducking through the throng to reach where Shanks sat with Beckman.Â
Off-key singing from the corner, a dart game at the far side, a pirate here and there flirting with a local. You waved at Hongo, who was playing liar's dice with some of the crew; he waved back, but kept his gaze on the game. The smell of beer and ale and rum and whiskey mixed with the scent of people who'd been too long at sea and seawater and whatever was cooking in the back.
The Yonko grinned and lifted his bottle as you approached. "Saved you a seat." He got up, letting you slide into the booth next to Beckman.
The older man smirked, tapping ash into the ashtray in front of him. "Glad ye could come." His grey hair was slicked back as always, though a few stray strands hung over the scar on his temple, and he wasn't wearing his cloak for once.
"Disappointed you didn't have to come fetch me?" you tease. 'Not sure I've seen him look this relaxed before.' It was nice though, different than the usual calm, collected look you were used to.
Shanks barked a laugh and dropped back into the booth, his arm slinging around your shoulders like it belonged there. He leaned in, grin crooked, eyes glittering as he threw Beckman a look. "He did mention something about wanting to walk you here." As always, he smelled of rum and sea salt and something woodsy.
With a sigh, Beckman swatted at him. "No, that was ye who talked about doin' that." Taking a drag, he slid a drink in front of you. "Hope ye don't mind ale. Thought ye might not like the stronger stuff."
Smiling at him, you took it. "Thanks. And you're right, I probably wouldn't have enjoyed it." You gave Shanks a pointed look at that, flicking your gaze from his rum-filled mug to his face. It was his favorite - 'as if I could ever forget' - and many times you'd had to get a fresh drink because he added some to yours when you weren't looking.
Looking completely unbothered by your look, Shanks threw back his drink, downing half in one go. Some spilled onto his shirt, joining the few other stains already there.
Shaking your head, you merely sipped yours. "One of these days, Beckman's going to return to Anchor Cove only to tell me your liver finally gave out because of all your drinking." You couldn't help but smile though. 'As if he'd be taken out by something so mundane.'
Seemed like nothing could take him down though.
Beckman's deep laugh cut through the others nearby as Shanks pouted. "I'll do if ye keep drinkin' like that, boss." Still smirking, he looked at you. "So what made ye agree to come out with us fer once?" Smoke curled around his head lazily.
A chair scraped against the floor, and suddenly Yasopp was there, sliding in with the smell of gunpowder still clinging to him. "Last time we suggested it, you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with us." A line of red across his cheeks, dreads pulled back by a headband, with his mug held loosely in one hand as he lounged in his seat.
"No, that was because the time before that," you tell him, shooting Shanks a mock glare, "Shanks kidnapped me while he was drunk and held me hostage on the ship for two days." It had been a lot of fun, but you wished he'd asked first.
Sticking out his lower lip a little, Shanks' eyes widened. "You said you wanted to see what the ship was like!" He pulled you closer, ignoring the way you pushed back against him.
Groaning at the overgrown child you were now beginning to think was the face of the crew while Beckman was the secret captain, you finally got his arm off your shoulders and leaned against Beckman for protection; he wrapped his own arm around your waist, chuckling. "I said I wanted to see what it was like, I did not say I wanted to stay there!" You tried to sound at least a little annoyed, but it was hard with him pouting at you.
Laughter broke out around you as he sputtered, finally tipping his head back against the seat. "You're no fun..." Right now, he looked much more like a toddler who lost his favorite toy than a terrifying pirate with a 4 million beri bounty.
Giving him an amused look, you relaxed against Beckman, preferring his steady warmth right now than Shanks' clinginess. Four visits ago, youâd never have leaned against him like this. But after years of visits, every couple of months without fail, you didnât mind anymore.
And unlike Shanks, Beckman never got handsy when drunk. If heâd had too much, he always let you slip away.
Roux and Gab's shouts came from where they were playing darts, and you looked to see the larger man looking defeated. As always, Roux's cheerful grin was in place. Nearby, you spotted Bonk with one of the local girls; from their looks, you figured she'd be spending the night with him.
It was chaos, not much different than the times on the beach when you'd join, just contained inside the tavern. But you didn't find this overwhelming like you'd expected.
Beckman's voice sounded low in your ear. "Glad ye could come here tonight. Always funner when ye join us." He took a long drag, his gaze roaming over the rowdy scene. Smirking, he slid his gaze to yours. "And glad I didn't have to drag ye out of that shop."
You scoff, trying - and failing - not to smile. "You say that, but I think you liked carrying me to the beach."Â
He grinned, blowing out a smoke ring. "Aye, maybe I did."Â
Shanks got up suddenly, and you couldn't help a laugh as he chased Snake, who'd walked by and snatched his drink.
Shaking your head, you sank against Beckman. "How have you put up with him all these years?" From what you'd learned over their visits, Beckman was one of his first crewmembers, joining Shanks when the captain was still a fresh pirate.
An exasperated sigh left him at Shanks' triumphant shout. "Drinkinâ and smokinâ. Only way Iâve survived." Taking a drink from his bottle, he tightened his grip around your waist, his arm warm. "Sanityâs overrated anyway."
Yasopp chuckled, finishing his mug. "Weren't for you, we'd all think that."
Listening to their banter, you looked over as Shanks rejoined you.
The corner of his lips curled up as he met your gaze. "You gonna sit against my first mate all night?"
Resisting a grin, you purposely shifted closer as Beckman's chest rumbled from his laugh. "Maybe. Least he's not running off after someone."
Gasping in mock surprise, Shanks reached over and pulled you away from Beckman; the larger man shook his head, smirking as he tapped ash into the ashtray.
You giggled, not resisting as you were pulled against the captain's side. "Why do I always have to sit with you?" You didn't move away though as Shanks' arm replaced Beckman's around your waist.
Sitting his chin on your shoulder, his breath smelling heavily of rum, Shanks pulled you into his lap after a moment. "'Cause Beckman always steals the girls, and Iâm the captain, so I get the leftovers."
Beckman rolled his eyes, taking a drink from his bottle. "'Cept the leftovers don't usually glare at ye."
Shanks stuck his tongue out at him, making you giggle, then turned his gaze to you with a grin. "You know...you could enjoy more of this if you came with us. It's clear you're having fun."
Scoffing lightly, you took a drink of ale. "Right, like I'd become a pirate."
Shanks leaned back, still holding you in his lap, his grin only widening. "Why not? Youâd get the sea, the stars, adventureâ" he gestured broadly with his free hand, nearly sloshing his mug before taking another swig "â and me, of course."
You arched a brow. "That last oneâs hardly a selling point."
The crew howled with laughter at that, Roux nearly choking on his drink.
Beckman smirked around his cigarette. "Careful, lass. Keep talking like that and heâll start a whole speech about the glory of freedom."
"Oi!" Shanks protested, though his eyes sparkled. "Itâs not a speech if itâs true." He tightened his arm around your waist, his voice dipping closer to your ear. "Wouldnât you like to see whatâs out there instead of being stuck in one place?"
Something about the way he said it made you pauseâhis tone softer beneath the rum-soaked bravado, almost earnest. 'Well...I have always wanted to see more than Anchor Cove.' You wanted to see fashions from other islands, find where the different fabrics you bought came from, see more people than just the ones here or that came through port occasionally. "I'm not sure..."
"Ye wouldn't have to worry about fightin', if that's what yer concerned about," Beckman commented after a moment. "Not everyone on the ship fights."
You tilted your head toward Beckman, curious. "Really? I figured pirates all had to be fighters."
"Aye, most of us are," Roux piped up cheerfully, raising his mug in salute. "But not everyone. Some cook, some mend sails, some just drink and look pretty." He winked, earning another round of laughter from the table.
"Guess which one he does,"Â Yasopp muttered, and Roux threw a peanut at him.
Shanks chuckled, squeezing your waist. "See? Thereâs a place for everyone. You could sew, bargain with merchants, keep Beckman from going gray so fast."
"Not possible,"Â Beckman said dryly, though his lips twitched; his hair was already entirely silver.
You swirled the ale in your cup, pretending to think, though your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter. The idea of leaving was absurdâŚwasnât it? This was your home, your shop, your life. Yet the thought of open seas, new sights, and being swept along in this kind of chaosâit wasnât as easy to dismiss as you wanted it to be.
"Youâre ridiculous,"Â you muttered, though softer this time.
Shanks leaned forward until his forehead brushed your temple. "And yetâŚyouâre thinking about it."
You groaned, tilting your head back. "Shanks...I belong here, in Anchor Cove. Me? At sea? I'd never make it." You shot him a smile. "Besides, I know if I tag along, you'll just make my work even harder." You let out a light laugh. "Fixing your clothes every day?"
Beckman huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, smoke curling from his lips. "Wouldnât hurt to have someone who can actually sew. Roux once tried patchinâ a sleeve with rope."
"It held!"Â Roux shouted defensively, slapping the table.
"For all of two hours,"Â Yasopp deadpanned.
The table erupted again, the tavern shaking with the crewâs laughter. You shook your head, trying to hide your smile in your drink. 'How have they survived?'
Shanks took the opportunity to lean closer, lowering his voice just for you. "See? Weâd take good care of you. Better than this lot of landlocked fools."
"Youâre drunk,"Â you countered, though your pulse betrayed you, quickening under his arm.
"Always," he admitted cheerfully, brushing his nose against your cheek as his voice softened, "but I mean it." The scent of rum on his breath grew stronger, and you resisted rolling your eyes.
Beckman gave his captain a long-suffering look. "Heâll keep on, ye know. Once Shanks gets an idea in his head, thereâs no shakinâ it out." He shook his head and muttered, "She's too smart fer his nonsense..." His grip tightened around his bottle almost subtly.
You tried to wave him off, but Shanks' grin relaxed at the edges, his voice low enough that only you could catch it. "Iâm serious, though. Youâd fit in with us. Maybe better than you think."
You hesitated, fingers tightening on your cup. That spark in his toneâit wasnât just rum talking. And that made it harder to laugh it off.
The salty air seemed harsher today. Pulling your cart along the road towards the docks, the wind kept tugging towards the open sea. Ignoring that as much as possible, you headed for the Red Force. It had taken all day yesterday, and most of today, but you were finally done with the repairs. Ahead of you, Shanks stood with Beckman; both men were deep in conversation.
Until Shanks saw you.
Grinning, he met you before you reached Beckman. "Have you thought about it?"
You slowed, fingers tightening on the cart handle. "About what?"
He gave you a look that said he knew you were stalling. "Joining us. The sea, adventure, meâ" his grin widened, teasing, "âdonât tell me you forgot already."
Rolling your eyes, you tried to keep your tone light. "I had work to do. Unlike some people, I donât get to spend every day drinking and chasing trouble."
Beckmanâs low chuckle drifted from behind him. "Sheâs got ye there."
Shanks shot his first mate a mock glare but leaned closer to you, lowering his voice. "You did think about it though."
You hated that he wasnât wrong. The wind catching your hair, the endless horizon beyond the docksâit had whispered possibilities all day while you stitched. "Maybe," you admitted, so quiet he almost missed it.
Shanksâ grin softened at the edges, turning less like a tease and more like an invitation. "Then come see the ship, proper this time. Not just your repairs. Let me show you what youâd be trading for Anchor Cove."
Beckman stubbed his cigarette out on the crate beside him, giving you an assessing look. "Careful. Heâll have you convinced before you realize it."
"And you wouldnât mind?" you asked, glancing between them. You didn't want to admit you'd already made your decision, but you weren't about to say it yet.
Beckman shrugged, though his eyes lingered on you a beat too long. "Yer choice. Always has been. Just know he doesnât give up easy."
Shanks beamed, already reaching for your hand. "So? One little tour wonât hurt."
You hesitated, but the warmth of Shanksâ hand around yours pulled you forward before you could think better of it. The boards of the dock creaked beneath your boots as he led you up the gangplank, his grin so wide you suspected it hurt. 'Please tell me I'm not going to regret this...'
âWelcome aboard the Red Force,â he declared dramatically, sweeping his arm out like he was unveiling a palace. âHere weâve got the finest crew, the best rum, andââ he leaned close enough that you felt the brush of his hair against your cheek, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisperâ âa captain whoâll spoil you rotten.â
You snorted. âPretty sure you just mean âa captain whoâll drink all my ale and ruin all my stitching.ââ You'd been wondering when he would start flirting with you - he'd started a little at the bar, to the point Beckman even teased him as they walked you home.
âDetails,â he said breezily, tugging you along toward the deck.
Beckman followed at a slower pace, shaking his head as if already resigned. âDonât let him fool ye. Itâs less spoilinâ, more causinâ trouble.â
The deck opened before you, sails furled but ready, ropes coiled neatly, the scent of tar and sea salt filling your lungs. From here the horizon looked endless, the water glittering like it was daring you to step further. Wood creaked beneath your feet, the sounds of the crew working in the rigging reached your ears, you could smell Roux cooking something in the kitchen.
Your chest tightened, not unpleasantly.
Shanks noticedâof course he did. His grin tilted softer, eyes catching the way yours lingered on the sea. âSee? Feels different up here, doesnât it? Like the worldâs just waiting for you.â
You shook your head, though a smile tugged at your lips. âYouâre dangerous.â
âOnly in the best ways,â he quipped instantly, winking.
Beckman groaned under his breath, lighting another cigarette. âKnew bringinâ ye aboard would end with him usinâ every line heâs got.â His gaze flicked between you and Shanks; partly annoyed, partly exasperated, but also curious.
âEvery line until one works,â Shanks said cheerfully, tightening his grip on your hand. Then, quieter, for you alone: âTell me you donât want to see whatâs out there, just once.â
Your answer caught in your throat, because the truth wasâŚyou couldnât. You wanted to see the world, but you wanted home. Safety, quiet days in just your studio, mornings where you could enjoy not having to worry about anything until you had your coffee.
But you couldn't ignore the fact that every time they left, at least in the last two years, you'd watched their ship until it was out of sight. You would have never asked to come aboard - that wasn't your style - but you'd also never dreamed Shanks would ask you to join.
Shanks' gaze softened, as if he could sense your inner turmoil. "If you really don't want to come, you can tell me. I'll understand."
Beckman's hand landed on your shoulder. "The seas not easy, and not always kind. If ye want to think about it more, we can come back in a month."
Your throat felt tight. 'A month?' That sounded like forever. Youâd lie awake every night, staring at your ceiling, wondering if the Red Force had sunk into the horizon for good. Wondering if youâd just let the chance slip by.
Shanksâ thumb brushed over your knuckles where he still held your hand, his voice quieter than youâd ever heard it. âOr you could come now. No waiting. No wondering. Just⌠see what it feels like.â
Beckmanâs sigh came out like smoke curling through the air. âHeâs right âbout one thing. Seas wonât wait. It moves on whether yeâre ready or not.â
Your gaze drifted past them, over the rail. The waves slapped lazily against the hull, endless blue stretching until it bled into the horizon. Anchor Cove suddenly felt very small, very far awayâeven though it was only a few steps back down the dock.
Your heart thudded unevenly. âIf I didâŚâ you swallowed, âwhat if I canât keep up? What if I donât belong out there?â
Shanks leaned closer, his grin softer than the ones he flashed in taverns. âThen we bring you home. Simple as that. But at least youâll know you tried.â
Beckmanâs hand gave your shoulder the faintest squeeze before he let go. âAnd if ye do belong⌠well. Youâll never look at Anchor Cove the same again.â
The sea breeze tugged your hair across your cheek, salt and possibility stinging in the air.
Your lips parted before you could stop yourself. â...Alright. Iâll come.â
Shanks froze, as if he hadnât heard you right. Then his whole face broke into the widest grin youâd ever seen, so bright it made your stomach flip. âYou mean it?â
A shaky laugh slipped out. âDonât make me say it twice.â 'Please tell me I made the right choice.'
He actually whooped, loud enough that a few of the crew on deck leaned over the railing to see what had happened. Without warning, Shanks scooped you up off your feet and spun you in a wide circle, laughter bubbling out of him, hair flying wild in the wind. âSheâs coming! Did you hear that? Sheâs coming with us!â
âCaptainâs gone mad,â Yasopp called from above, but his grin was just as wide.
âThought it'd take longer!â Roux Limejuice, already raising a mug in your direction.
You clung to Shanksâ shoulders, half laughing, half mortified at the scene he was making. âPut me down! Youâre going to drop me!â
âNever,â he said, and set you on your feet a little too gently, like you might vanish if he let go. His hand lingered at your waist, his grin boyish and unrestrained.
Beckman pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, though the corner of his mouth twitched. âLike a kid in a toy store,â he muttered, lighting another cigarette. âKnew thisâd be trouble the second he spotted your shop.â
You met Beckmanâs eyes over Shanksâ shoulder. His expression was weary, but not disapprovingâsteady, grounding, almost protective. And for the first time, you let yourself exhale the nerves fluttering in your chest.
You also didn't miss the implication behind his words. Or the protective gleam in his eye.
It wasn't when Shanks spotted your shop, it was when he spotted you.
Shanks kissed your temple so suddenly you startled. âBest decision youâll ever make, sweetheart. I promise.â
You tried to roll your eyes, but your smile betrayed you. The waves lapped against the Red Forceâs hull like applause, and you couldnât help but wonder if the sea had been waiting for you all along.
imaging beckman having a daddy kink changed something in me đŠ, do you have some "quotes" he would say? i can only imagine the standard a bit cringe ones like "yeah come to daddy, kittenđ" help me
- a freak
Daddy Beckman
Type:
List of quotes + NSFW GN!Reader scene
Warnings:
NSFW | Daddy Kink | Oral Sex
Characters:
Benn Beckman, GN!Reader
Notes:
This was interesting to think about, and it took me a while, but I think I have some quotes he would use.
And as a bonus, added a NSFW scene of him using a few!
Also on Ao3!
âEasy now. Let Daddy take care of it.â
âYouâre a mess, kitten. All for Daddy?â
âLook at youâalways so greedy when I touch you.â
âDidnât even have to ask twice. Good.â
âOn the bed. Now.â
âYou know better than to keep me waiting.â
âYou want me to stop? Then say it. Otherwise, you do as youâre told.â
Calling Him Daddy
"Mm? Say that again." Beckman's smirk stretched wider as he regarded you.
You tried not to squirm. "Um...nothing." His palm landed sharp against your thigh, not enough to hurt, but enough to jolt a sound out of you. You lifted your gaze, cheeks burning. âIâahâcalled you DaddyâŚâ The ropes around your wrists shifted with the movement, snug but careful â his knots always were. You couldnât slip out of them, but you knew he wouldnât tie you in a way that left a mark.
Chuckling, he reached down and tilted your chin up. âThat so?â His thumb brushed your lower lip, slow, deliberate. âSay it again.â
You hesitated, breath catching. His hand tightened just enough to make you swallow hard. You hadn't meant to say it, it had just slipped out.
âDonât make me say it again,â he murmured, his gaze steady, heat simmering low behind it. âBe good for Daddy.â
A shiver ran down your spine, and you whispered, "Yes, daddy."
The approving rumble in his chest felt like it echoed straight through you. âThere ye go,â he said softly, almost indulgent. âKnew youâd behave if I pressed just right.â He sat back in the armchair in the corner, gaze fixed on you. "Come here." When you walked over, he gestured down. "On your knees. Now."
You carefully lowered yourself, but before you could settle, he nudged a pillow under your knees.
He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Didn't have to ask twice, good." Leaning back, he unbuckled his belt, his eyes darkening. "Ye look so pretty, waitin' for daddy," he murmured, his voice low and husky.Â
You watched in rapt attention as his cock sprang free; you'd never get tired of seeing him. Long, thick, and a bead of precum at the tip already. Your gaze flicked to his.
Wrapping a hand around it, he gave a few slow strokes. "Open up, darlin'," he commanded gently.
Parting your lips, leaned forward and licked a stripe up the underside. His flavor was strong and salty, but you loved it.
With a groan, he threaded his fingers through your hair. "That's it." As you took him into your mouth, he huffed. "So good for daddy, always eager for me, ain't ye?" His head fell back as you took him deeper. "Fuck, just like that." His grip in your hair tightened.
Slowly, you bobbed on his cock, swirling your tongue around the head and along the underside. You got halfway before you had to stop.
"Look at me." Beckman's other hand moved to cup your cheek. "Ye can take it. Just breathe, darlin'." His thumb brushed your cheek where he could feel himself, and you moaned.Â
Taking a deep breath through your nose, you slowly drew him into your throat. Drool ran from the corner of your mouth as you reached the base.
"Yer a mess, darlin'," he cooed, rubbing his thumb over your cheek again. "Takin' daddy so well."
A shiver ran down your spine at the praise and you pulled back, hollowing your cheeks. Reaching the tip, you slowly moved back down, taking him to the base again. Keeping the steady pace, you hollowed your cheeks with each suck, then took him to the base. Moaning softly as his cock throbbed against your tongue, you tried to speed up.
Beckman grunted, his fingers tightening in your hair. "Good, darlin'." His breathing was heavier now. His hips began to thrust forward, meeting your movements as you bobbed up and down on his cock. "Yeah, just like that," Â he growled, his voice thick.
Moving faster, your felt drool dripping down your chin as met your movements. Your gaze fixed on his face, watching the way his hair fell about his face.
His hips snapped forward after a moment, and he groaned deeply as his cum spilled down your throat.
Whining, you tried to swallow it all, but some spilled past your lips. He pulled back, streaks catching your skin, warm against your cheek and throat. Panting heavily, feeling sticky, you leaned into his hand as he cupped your face.
"Easy now darlin'. Just breathe." He rubbed your cheek gently as your heart slowed to a normal rhythm. "Come here. Let daddy take care of ye." He helped you up, pulling you onto his lap.
When he untied your wrists, you whimpered softly, stretching your arms; they were sore now, but not hurt.
He reached for the rag on the nightstand, wiping your face clean with quiet care. When he was done, he pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. His chin rested on your hair, his voice a low murmur against your ear. "Always so good for daddy."
Your face burned, but you smiled and tucked it against his neck. "Guessing you like that?"
His chest rumbled against you. âYeah,â he murmured, voice steady, almost amused. âAnd yeâll be sayin' it again.â Â He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you tighter.
You pressed a kiss to his jaw.
He stroked your back slowly. âRest now. Daddyâs not lettin' ye go anywhere.â
What are your personal fave headcanons about shanks and beckman?
My Favorite Headcanons
Shanks & Beckman edition
These are my top 5 SFW & 5 NSFW headcanons for Shanks & Beckman - no specific theme
NSFW below the break!
Sorry for the length!
Shanks
He is absolutely an adult child
I know he's got to have his mature moments (he is a captain and a Yonko) but I cannot believe that if he doesn't have to be serious, he is just a big child & wants nothing more than to have fun. And he definitely is the type to whine if he doesn't get his way about something, getting on Beckman's nerves constantly.
Anywhere he visits, he always plays/hangs with kids
I really get the feeling that he's one of those people who kids just love, and he really enjoys spending time with them. Maybe because of Luffy, or maybe it was more noticeable after him. If you can't find him in port and he's not at the tavern or bar, just follow the sounds of playing kids & you'll find him
He is a lot clingier in private than in person
Always touching people - hand on shoulders, backs, touching arms, wrapped around waists, etc - but when in private, I feel like he would almost act touch-starved. If it's with a close friend (like Beckman), probably rarely leaves them alone. With a partner? No, you are sitting in his lap or he has his arm around you even if either of you are working or he's sprawled across your lap - he will refuse to be away from you
A romantic at heart
If he likes someone, it's easy to tell. While he would not spend a ton (mainly because Beckman controls the money for the ship to avoid overspending on booze), he'd open doors for them, pick flowers, probably show them cheesy poetry he found in a book (& I think he would look that up even though I don't think he's fond of reading), have them wear his cloak if their cold (then probably insists it's big enough for both of them)
He has a collection of papers of Luffy's exploits & is a lot prouder of him than he lets on
Since Luffy's first bounty came out, Shanks probably has collected everything that appears in the paper about him. Doesn't matter how mundane, but he gives me severe, proud dad vibes & possibly brags about Luffy while drunk (even if he's said said it before, he still brags to anyone who will listen)
Beckman
Enjoys silence as much as parties
He's a Red-Hair, but he's also the most mature on the ship and sometimes needs his quiet spaces, moments where he doesn't have to babysit Shanks or the others, and just wants to be able to think in peace without someone being an idiot nearby; he's definitely learned to enjoy silence.
Keeps momentos of islands when they visit for the first time
Probably mundane things (shells, small trinkets, etc - something that reminds him of wherever it came from), but he collects reminders whenever they stop somewhere new. & he probably keeps the collection private, only letting a few people see it.
Is a bibliophile (loves books) and leaves learning new things
We know he's smart, but I can see him being Rayleigh-level smart, and always eager to learn more. Stop somewhere new, give him two hours and he'll know as much about the island as the locals. Give him a new book, he has it read within a day (maybe two if it's thick)
Almost completely stoic in public, less in private
Always calm and collected, he tries to set an example for the crew and makes sure if there's ever a time they need to interact with an island (maybe settling a trade route or protection), it's obvious he's the one they really want to talk to. In private, with Shanks or a partner or really close friend, he probably lets on how stressed he gets, or how tired he is (though he brushes away their worry)
Would be the best kind of partner (might be biased on this one)
Listening or talking, he's there. Always making sure his partner is okay - they're injured, he takes care of them himself or makes them see Hongo (carrying them if he must), they're sick, he'll hardly leave their side (maybe running himself ragged), and if his partner refuses to rest, he will bribe them with him staying there (& maybe make them if they still don't listen). Takes his partner on dates when in port, isn't flashy about gifts but if sees them like something, they'll most likely get it by the end of the day/port visit.
I'm positive both of them are bi - I think Shanks was confirmed even. I know Beckman's canonically a womanizer, but I can easily see him being with guys too if they show interest.
Shanks
His clinginess is definitely more than it appears
If he can get away with it, his hand will be on your ass, chest, maybe (not so) discreetly trying to get into your pants, especially if he's in the mood (the man is definitely a hedon, he is almost always in the mood)
Can switch from bottom to top depending on his partner
While he could easily take control in bed, I can see him letting his partner taking over sometimes - not always because he wants to, but if his partner shows interest, then he'll let them top him (& get them back later)
Sex is a love language - a very loud one
He is hedonistic - not just because he's a pirate (& I think they're more hedonistic than we know), but because he'd be that way regardless of his life. Loves sex, loves to drag someone (especially a partner, if he has one) to bed, won't leave until they're both satisfied (& that will take forever), and gets very vocal + loves his bed partner being vocal
Kinks aren't new to him
Goes along with being a hedon - he's probably tried every kink, will gladly try (at least once) anything new, and if you suggest his favorites, prepare to be in bed for at least a full day + a few more for recovery
Will fuck you like it's the first time every time
(This is more if he has a partner) He doesn't care if it's the first time, 10th, 100th, or 1000th, he always treats it like the first time, making sure you're both enjoying it, and makes his partner feel special every time
Beckman
King of aftercare
Once everything is done, it doesn't matter how tired you are (& if he's tired, kudos to you for managing to wear down the impressive stamina), he always makes sure you're comfortable, cleans up after you both, and will make sure you fall asleep in his arms (& if you don't sleep, then he'll at least cuddle).
Stoicism in public, less in private (NSFW version)
Not much for PDA, he might hold his partners hand, keep them closer, maybe an occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead, but nothing more; this is in part to avoid teasing from Shanks, but also just naturally him. In private however, he's just as handsy as the captain and if he gets his hands on you, don't expect to get away until he decides you can leave his reach - and I mean groping all over your body, tongue in your mouth if he manages to bypass your efforts of avoiding a kiss, everything.
Experienced as hell in bed
Face it, he's a master in the bedroom (& I don't just mean as a kink). He's been with so many that he stopped counting in his early adult years. He's learned every trick, seen probably every kink, and learned exactly how to read a person so he can make them cum exactly when he wants them to and not a moment before.
Kinks are less than Shanks, but he leans into them harder
He probably also gets into a lot of kinks (at least tries them), but he has fewer favorites than his captain. Favorites would probably be bondage, I can easily see him having a daddy kink (only if his partner is younger though), and orgasm control - suggest this especially, and you'll be lucky to walk within the next week.
Oral fixation
He wants to leave marks, evidence that he was there and reminders for whoever managed to land in his bed. If they're his partner, it's also a warning for everyone else that they're taken.
The Northern Compass series, which includes Shooting Lessons (Part 1 here), will be something I'll set up a request system for, but before I set it up, wanted to get some thoughts!
CC - Canon Compliance | complies with canon events
CD - Canon Divergence | an event/choice was made/changed from canon (major decisions, not minor) | I will make another post for different CD choices if this is chosen
& if you don't care which way it goes, you can pick Author Choice & have me pick!
I'm so glad you write for Beckman, and not affraid of heavy.
When you have time please write NSFW , Benn + a female, not sĂł youg anymore and if you fell confortĂĄvel dub- con(ish).
Or shibari.
Thank you
Hunter's Gaze
Type:
Story
Warnings:
NSFW | Flirting | Dub-con | Age Gap | Enemies to Lovers
Summary:
You've been a member of the Beast Pirates for years, and had your devil fruit for just as long. It led you to meeting the most infuriating man in the world, who for some unknown reason cannot understand why you continuously say no to him. Beckman is stubborn though, and you have to admire that.
Characters:
Benn Beckman X F!Reader
Word Count:
3149
Notes:
First time working with dub-con, so be aware it may not seem accurate.
Also found on Ao3!
â Check my page for Requests! â
You tried to avoid the burning gaze across the room. The low undercurrent of chatter from the Red-Haired Pirates, the silent judgement from a fraction of the Beast Pirates alongside Queen's booming voice. Swallowing a sigh of boredom, your nose twitched as the uncomfortably familiar scent of cigarette smoke and cologne approached. You didn't even wait for him to speak. "The fuck do you want, Beckman? Thought I've made it clear: Leave me alone."
The silver-haired first mate smirked, his gaze focused on you. "We both know I won't do that, doll." He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, infuriatingly calm. "Captains are busyâfigured Iâd keep ye from lookinâ lonely."
Biting back a growl, you didn't look at him. "Why not speak to King? Or Queen? Someone a little more your station?" You watched as Shanks laughed at something, causing Kaido to scowl. 'Why oh why do I have to put up with this asshole?' You'd known Beckman since you were 18 - nearly 14 years now - and ever since that first fight, he'd always sought you out if the crews were anywhere on the same island.
As if reading your thoughts, he chuckled. "And not talk to the one who tried to rip my face off the first time we met?" He took a long drag, then let out smoke through his nose. "Thought I'd see if ye've rethought my proposal."
You snapped your gaze to him, your muzzle shifting out, lips curling up in a snarl. "Like I'd rethink you! I'm not rethinking it." Your claws pressed into your palms, your hackles bristling painfully under your jacket. The red-brown fur was a stark contrast to the white shirt you wore, peeking out from under your collar.
As always, he wore the silver and purple cloak, tight black shirt, jeans, yellow waist sash. It looked too damn good on him. His smirk widened. "Really? Not going to rethink my suggestion? Not after...last time?"
The burning gaze from across the room sharpened, and you let out a huff. "No. Now stuff it, before King gets pissed." You met the winged man's gaze finally and shook your head before stalking off. 'Ugh, how dare he bring that up!' Last time you'd met Beckman, not long before the War of Marineford, you'd ended up in a scuffle with him.
A swing of his rifle. Fingers gripping your fur. Teeth snapping an inch from his face. His weight pinning you. Heat, heartbeat, steady when yours was thrashing.
That stupid taunt about wolverines being weaker than he expected.
It had taken Queen weeks to stop teasing you. King still hadn't forgiven you. Kaido alternated between laughing his off - while drunk, of course - or a disdainful sneer.
Rounding the corner, you stalked down the hall towards the balcony. 'That smug, arrogant, charismatic bastard!' Nearly ripping open the door, you slammed it shut behind you, the night air sharp against your heated skin.
You gripped the railing until your claws bit into the wood, chest rising and falling. His voice lingered in your head like smokeâlow, steady. It was like the tide - no matter how much it lowered, how much it receded, it always came back. Inevitable, unforgiving, refusing to be forgotten.
The scrape of boots made your shoulders stiffen. The faint click of a lighter made a growl rumble in your throat.
"Ye need to stop wanderin' off like that," Beckman said coolly, leaning a few feet away. "Might give people the wrong idea, doll." His gaze slid to yours.
Your blood boiled at the smirk that the bastard still had. 'Seas, I'd give nothing more than to claw it off him!' "Will you leave me alone already?" The words hissed through your teeth. Your fur fluffed up as he faced you.
His gaze openly roamed over you. "Captains are busy, crews occupied. Figured I'd make sure yer okay." His eyes gleamed through the smoke - as if waiting for you to break.
"I'm fine," you snapped out. 'Creep.' Yet you couldn't ignore glancing at him back. Sharp jawline, silver eyes that always seemed to see right through you, rough hands you knew could feel just as good as they did bad. With a growl, you turned away, shoving away the dreams you'd had of him.
Of him on top of you. His hands gripping you - not holding you down, but exploring, teasing, igniting flames you never wanted going out.
"Doll," he said lowly, stepping closer. "Yer not fine." His breath ghosted the back of your neck.
You turned in an instant, stiffening as he seemed to loom over you. Close enough you could feel the heat from his body. Hear the steady thrum of his heart. Lifting your gaze to his, your breath caught in your throat. "What are you doing?"
"Ye've had fourteen years to tell me to sod off." His voice curled around you like his cigarette smoke. Low, heated, smoldering but not burning. "Ye never have." Carefully, one hand gripped the railing next to you. Not caging you - yet. "Startin' to think yer not as indifferent as ye appear."
Your claws slid out, your fangs bared. "Love to, but I know you won't listen. You're too thick-headed." You didnât pull away. Couldnât. Wouldnât. As much as he infuriated you, youâd been drawn to him for years.
"Aye, I wouldn't listen." He chuckled, sending shivers down your spine. "So why say no? Why not give me an answer, doll?"
You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heart before it gave you away. "You know who my captain is; he wouldnât agree. Youâre too old for me. Shanks doesn't keep devil fruit users on his crew." All trivial things, really.
Bennâs laugh rumbled low, warm as smoke. His thumb brushed along your jaw. "Shanks doesnât have any âcause none oâ us were fool enough to trade swimminâ for power. He wouldnât care about you one bitââcept heâd be glad to have you." He leaned closer, silver hair catching in the lantern light. "And pirates, doll? We donât get too old. We just turn sharper. Silver."
You bared your fangs, a growl curling in your chest, but your body stayed rooted to the spot. "Why are you so certain I even want to say yes?"
He grinned, flicking the cigarette stub over the rail. "Ye want to, but yer scared."
Your jaw dropped at that, but you quickly snapped it shut with an audible click of your teeth. âWhy in the hell would I be scared?â you snapped, even as your heart betrayed you. You were â just not for the reason he thought.
You feared getting too involved with him. Of things turning south and him abandoning you. It had happened before, with someone else whose bones now rested on the ocean floor. 'I am not going through that again!'
That, and potentially causing a conflict between the crews.
"Ye are." His voice dropped, husky and gravely. "I think ye want this more than yer lettin' on. Yer just be stubborn."
You couldn't hold back a scoff. "I'm being stubborn?" You rolled your eyes. Putting your hands on his chest, you pushed him back. "I'm not the one who shows up, flirting and acting like you know me better than I know myself."
He took a step back, still grinning. "Aye, but every clash, doll - ye bare those teeth at me. Go for my throat every time. Starting to think yeâd rather sink âem in for good."
Your face burned, and you shifted out your fur to hide the redness you knew was creeping up your neck. "S-Shut up, Beckman," you muttered, pushing past him; his smug grin didn't leave. Entering the hall, you clenched your fangs as you heard him following, albeit slowly. Ducking into the nearest room, you froze as you realized it was a dead end.
A bedroom.
'Ah shit...' You looked around frantically. A large bed against the wall in the corner, a simple nightstand, a doorway that - after sniffing - you realized was just a bathroom, a dresser. A typical inn room. 'Fuck. Need to get out before he makes some crude joke!' The window was the only possible option, unless you wanted to run into him, but it was narrow. And you weren't exactly a skinny person. You took a step back. 'Maybe I can run past him.'
His low chuckle against your neck had you whirling around to meet his silver eyes. "If ye wanted to get me alone, doll, all ye had to do was ask." His hands settled on your waist, heavy and warm, but they didnât move. Not higher, not lower. Just there - anchoring you in place while he watched you with that infuriating patience.Â
Your gaze never left his as you stood frozen.
âRelax, doll,â he murmured, his breath brushing your cheek. âAinât gonna force ye. Iâve waited too long for that. This oneâs on you.â
Your ears twitched, heart hammering like a war drum in your chest. He leaned close enough that the scent of smoke and steel wrapped around you, his voice low enough to curl in your bones.
âPush me off, or pull me closer. Yer call.â
The room spun with the weight of it. The easy way out was right there - you couldâve shoved him back, walked away, and heâd have let you. You knew it. But your claws never raised, your feet never moved. Instead, a growl rumbled from your chest as you fisted the fabric of his shirt. âDamn you, Beckman,â you hissed. Then yanked him down, fangs flashing as your mouth crashed against his.
He caught you instantly, a low, hungry sound vibrating in his throat as his grip tightened on your waist. The taste of smoke and salt hit you like a memory youâd been starving for, one you never dared let yourself want. His stubble scraped rough against your lips, grounding you, claiming you - and worse, you let it.Â
Your claws pricked through his shirt, but you didnât push. You pulled. Harder.
With a rough growl, he kicked the door shut and lifted you against his chest. A hand slid under your jacket - you shrugged it off. His hand moved to cup your breast, and you moaned as he squeezed gently. His groan vibrated in his chest, and he walked to the bed, not missing a step. Laying you down, hovering over you, his teeth scraped against your throat. "Heard all kinds of sounds from ye all these years." He nipped sharply at the hollow just above your collarbone, and you moaned again. "Much rather hear that though."
Push him away, claw him bloody, or keep him â you couldnât decide. Your body already had; it was a live-wire of sensation as his lips worked up your neck. Your fingers curled into his shirt, your head thrown back, chest heaving, legs still wrapped around his waist.
His hard cock could be felt through his jeans, pressing against your core. One hand bracing himself on the bed, the other roamed along your body. His fingers brushed over your breasts, down your stomach, teasing the edge of your jeans before diving up your shirt. His fingers were fire against your skin. Moving his lips up your jaw, he kissed the corner of your lips. "What happened to those pretty sounds?" His tongue flicked against your lips teasingly.
A moan left you, earning a smirk. Letting out a huff, you tried to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. "F-Fuck you, Beck..."
"Been waitin' for that fer years, darlin'," he grinned, rocking his hips against yours. "Gonna do that, or do I need to convince you further?" His hand kneaded your breast through your bra.
Your brain short-circuited at the thrust. All you could do was thrust back against him, tightening your grip on him. "Goddamnit, Beckman, just fuck me already," you nearly snarl.
His response was to kiss you hard enough to steal your breath. His hand delved under you and undid the snap. His lips moving against yours hungrily, he continued rocking against you as his hand moved back to your breast. Pinching your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, the low growl he gave in response to your moan was enough to send you spiraling.
You couldn't help but whine as he leaned up, only to stop as he stripped his shirt off. Against your conscious will, your hand came up and stroked across the hard planes of his chest and stomach, tracing the scars - some of which you knew were from you.
"'less you want me tearin' those clothes, darlin', I'd take them off." He quickly undid his sash and belt. His words sent a shiver down your spine, the threat of him tearing your clothes off both terrifying and exhilarating. With trembling hands, you unbuttoned your shirt, revealing inch by inch of your toned stomach and the lacy black bra underneath.
Beckman's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of your bare skin, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, reaching out to trace a finger along the swell of your breast.
Leaning down, he captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep as his hands roamed over your body. He hooked his fingers under your bra straps and pulled them down, breaking the kiss only long enough to yank the garment off completely. His mouth descended on your bare breasts, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh as his hands worked to undo the button of your jeans.
Your hands flew to his hair as your chest heaved. 'Fuck, I'll never be able to get away from him now!' You couldn't imagine wanting to though. Not now. Not when he was making your body tremble and heat pool in your stomach. His teeth scrapped a nipple, and you gasped, arching into him.Â
Pulling your jeans off, his fingers brushed the inside of your thighs. Moving his mouth to your other breast, he spread your legs and pressed his hand against your damp panties. "Fuck, doll. Yer soaked." His mouth moved down your stomach, and before you realized what he was doing, he had pulled your panties off with his teeth.
Beckman's hot breath fanned over your exposed core, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he saw the effect he was having on you. Without warning, he leaned in and ran his tongue along your folds, groaning at the taste of you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he feasted on your pussy like a man starved.
Your hands clenched in his hair, hips bucking against his mouth as he sucked and licked at your clit. "Fuck, Beckman!" you cried out, unable to hold back the pleasure coursing through you.Â
He growled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. Two fingers plunged into your tight heat, curling upwards to hit that perfect spot inside you.
Your orgasm hit faster than expected, your thighs trembling against his head.Â
He groaned as he lapped up every drop. "Fuck, darlin'." Muffled against your folds, his voice sent shivers up your body.
As you came down from your high, breath coming in gasps, his lips moved up your stomach, between your breasts, up your throat, until he shoved his tongue through your lips. You moaned, tasting yourself on him. When he dragged his cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, you whimpered. "B-Beck..."
Beckman's eyes locked with yours, filled with a primal hunger as he positioned himself at your entrance. "Beg for it," he demanded, his voice low and gravelly. "Beg me to fuck you."
âYour heart raced, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through your veins. You knew you shouldn't, that this was wrong, but the desire burning in his gaze made it impossible to resist. "Please," you whispered, hating the desperation in your voice. "Please, fuck me Beckman."
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he slowly pushed into you, inch by inch, stretching you deliciously. "Good girl," he praised, before capturing your mouth in a brutal kiss. He moved, thrusting deep and hard, just like you knew he would. Fingers digging into your hips, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, he was everything you'd imagined.
It wasn't long before you were trembling harder. Your nails sank into his shoulders. Tightening your legs around him, you gave a high-pitched moan and pulled back. "B-Beck, don't stop!" The heat pooled again, quicker and deeper. Your breath came in heavy pants. You met his dark gaze.
"Not a chance, darlin'," he grunted, silver hair hanging down or stuck to his forehead with sweat. Beckman's thrusts became more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with a fervor that bordered on desperation. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure.
You buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling your moans.
His hand slid between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit and circling it mercilessly. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough with exertion. "I wanna feel you squeeze my cock."
âYour body obeyed his command, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name, your inner walls clamping down around him as wave after wave of ecstasy washed through you.
âWith a final, brutal thrust, Beckman buried himself deep inside you and came, his hot seed filling you up. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting heavily as you came down from the high of your shared climax.
Beckman's weight pressed you into the mattress, his chest heaving against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your sweat-dampened skin. "That was...fuck," he murmured, a low rumble against your throat. "Worth every goddamn second of waitin'."
You murmured in agreement, dazed from the intensity. Your body thrummed, heart slowing, but it wasnât just that â it was him, here, not letting go.
His hand trailed lazily up and down your side, his touch gentle and almost reverent. It was a stark contrast to the rough, demanding lover of moments before. He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at you with a satiated smile."Yer mine now, doll," he declared possessively; your chest tightened, warmth spreading through you. "No more runnin'."
Looking up at him, you couldn't bring yourself to argue. 'His now?' Amusement bubbled through your chest and you pulled him down for a kiss. You would catch hell from Kaido when you said you were leaving with the Red-Haired Pirates, but honestly?
You didn't give a single fuck as long as it meant you could stop running from Beckman.
Hellooo, i would like to request if possible Rayleigh (in his late 50s when he's still blond) x f reader nsfw... reader is working with him at his coating job in sabaody and has a crush for him (could you please do it with an age gap, like reader is in her mid 20s?) thank you very much
-anon
Lessons on Deck
Type:
Story
Warnings:
NSFW | Age Gap | Flirting | Open Relationship | Semi-public
Summary:
You've been eyeing Ray since your crew first arrived in Sabaody, and your crew ends up hiring him to coat your ship to get to Fishman Island. Being the ships shipwright, it's only natural for you to ask to join him.
Characters:
Rayleigh (50s) X F!Reader (20s)
Word Count:
3002
Notes:
Also found on Ao3!
â Check my page for Requests! â
Walking up to your ship, you noticed the scaffolding along the aft and wandered over. 'He should be here... There!' With a leap up the ladder, you scaled up the ship to find the older blonde the crew had hired recently to coat their ship. "Hey, Ray. You don't mind if I watch, do you?" Sap bubbles drifted lazily in the sunlight, but all you could see was him.
A smile crossed his lips as he glanced over. "Not at all. Itâs smart to learn the basics," he said, tilting his head with a faint smirk. "Besides⌠I wouldnât want you ruining this ship on the way down." Brush in hand, arms streaked with sap, he moved with calm precision.
'Seas, he's hot.' You plopped down next to him, just enough that your arm brushed his. Heat flared where you touched, and you quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the sap. "Of course." You couldn't help but notice the defined muscle lines along his arms, broad shoulders, and the way his sharp gaze flicked over you before turning back to his work. Sunlight caught his hair, highlighting the silver streak cutting through the gold.
You'd been admiring him for days now, since your crew first arrived
After a moment, he held out the brush. "You try."
Taking it, you brushed your fingers against his palm, sending a shiver up your arm. "Is this stuff hard to work with?"
He smirked, making your heart flutter. "It takes some time to learn, but I can teach you enough to get you down to Fishman Island."Â
You scooted closer so you could reach where he was working. This pressed your thigh against his, and you tried to focus on the ship and not your pounding heart or the heat next to you. You felt the warmth of his hand lingering on yours, guiding the brush, and your chest thumped embarrassingly fast. Every time your thigh brushed against his, heat pooled lower, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from giving away exactly how aware you were of him.
He noticed, of course. Rayâs smirk deepened, and he leaned just a fraction closer, enough that the scent of salt and soap from his work clothes filled your senses. âCareful,â he said softly, voice teasing, âyou might get distracted and ruin more than just the coating.â
Your pulse jumped at the implication, and you forced yourself to look at the plank. âIâŚIâll be careful,â you murmured, though your eyes kept flicking to his, drawn to the curve of his jaw, the broad plane of his chest, the way the muscles flexed as he worked.
He didnât answer immediately. Instead, his fingers brushed yours again, more intentionally this time, holding the brush just a moment longer. You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but every brushstroke sent sparks along your nerves.
âMaybeâŚI should show you a bit more,â he said finally, his tone low and deliberate. He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. âYou seemâŚeager.â
Your stomach fluttered, and you nearly dropped the brush. âIâŚI want to learn,â you said quickly, hoping your words sounded innocent. Inside, though, you were thinking only of himâof the feel of his hands, the warmth, the heat that had nothing to do with the sun.
Ray leaned back just slightly, just enough to give a sense of the space between you, but the tension didnât ease. His gaze traveled over you slowly, making you shift on the plank, thighs brushing again, heart hammering. âGood,â he murmured, âthen pay close attention. ItâsâŚeasier when you focus on the technique.â
But you couldnât focus, not really. Your mind kept returning to the feel of his arm next to yours, his hand brushing yours again under the guise of showing you the right way to coat the wood. And with every small, deliberate movement, the air between you thickenedâwarm, taut, electric.
Finally, his free hand came up and cupped your jaw. "You seem distracted."
You swallowed heavily, but met his gaze. "No, I'm not distracted. I'm paying attention, I promise."
A low hum left his lips. "Paying attention...but I don't think to the work." Leaning closer until his face was barely an inch from yours, his smirk grew. "I think you're paying attention to something...else." His hand slid from your jaw, brushing down your neck light enough to make you shiver, and laid on your thigh.
You gasped softly when his hand settled on your thigh, heat pooling immediately where it pressed. âIâIâm trying,â you stammered, though the quiver in your voice betrayed you. 'Fuuuuck I won't be able to concentrate on shit now.'Â
He chuckled, low and amused, the sound vibrating through the space between you. âTrying,â he repeated, tilting his head slightly. His thumb traced slow circles over your leg, deliberately grazing more sensitive skin with each pass. âI think youâre enjoying thisâŚmore than you should.â
Your pulse hammered in your ears, and you bit your lip to stop from moaning. âI⌠I justâŚâ You faltered, aware of the way his eyes held yours so firmly, so knowingly.
His breath ghosted over your lips as he brushed against them. "If you'd like, I can show you how to take care of this...elsewhere."
Your heart jumped in your chest, nerves singing, but a smirk crawled across your face to copy his. "I'd like that..." you murmur.
Without hesitating, he took the brush, sat it on the scaffold, and pulled you up as he stood. "Come with me." Leading you around the curve of the ship, he led you onto the deck. Stopping where the stairs met the bulkhead, he peered into the shadows, shooting you a smirk. "Places like this, you really want to pay attention to." Stepping into the semi-secluded spot, he pulled you with him.
The shadows seemed to swallow the two of you whole, muting the bustle of the groves just beyond. His pressed you gently against the bulkhead, caging you in without force, his palm braced beside your head. The other hand still rested on your thigh, firm and deliberate, sending sparks racing under your skin.
Ray leaned close, the smirk curving his mouth in the dim light. âNow⌠tell me what you were paying attention to.â His voice dropped, low and rumbling, every word vibrating through your chest.
Your breath caught. His scentâsea, sap, and something warm and distinctly himâfilled your head, clouding your thoughts. âY-you,â you whispered, the word slipping out before you could think to stop it.
His chuckle rolled over you, pleased, approving. âThatâs better.â His thumb brushed along your jaw again before tilting your chin up, lips just shy of yours. âI like honest answers.â
The heat between you snapped tight when he finally closed the space, his mouth firm, practiced, stealing the air from your lungs. His kiss wasnât rushed; it was steady, measured, like he knew exactly how to unravel youâhow much pressure, how much pause, how much tease before you melted under him. Your fingers curled in his shirt, pulling him closer, earning another low laugh against your lips.Â
âEager,â he murmured, nipping lightly before drawing back just enough to look at you. The silver in his hair glinted faintly in the shadows, his gaze sharp and unbearably focused. âDonât worry. Iâll take good care of you.â His hands teased under your shirt, brushing the underside of your breasts. At your shiver, he moved higher.
Your pulse raced like a drumbeat in your chest. His lips brushed yours againâso light it barely counted as a kissâand then pulled away, the ghost of his mouth leaving you aching.
âSee?â Ray murmured, his thumb stroking idly over your nipples, âyou rush, you miss the best parts.â His words thrummed through you, deep and steady, like he was scolding and teasing all at once.
He kissed you again, slower this time. His mouth moved against yours with practiced ease, coaxing rather than demanding. The heat of him pressed closer, but never all at onceâhe gave you time to feel every shift, every deliberate brush of his lips, every graze of his beard against your skin.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, desperate to pull him nearer, but he only chuckled softly, breaking the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw. âEasy, love. No need to rush me.â His hand slid down your thigh, steady and unhurried, every inch he touched leaving your nerves raw and sparking.
When his mouth found the hollow of your throat, you gasped, tilting back against the bulkhead. His tongue traced a languid path along your pulse, and his teeth grazed just enough to make your knees weaken. âMm,â he hummed against your skin, as though savoring you like fine wine. âThatâs better. Nice and slow.â
You squirmed, heat coiling low in your belly, but his grip on your hip kept you grounded, kept you exactly where he wanted you. His pace never faltered; he was in no hurry, drawing you out until every touch felt unbearable in its sweetness.
You barely had time to breathe before his mouth was back on yours, firmer this time, no space left between you. The shift was dizzyingâone moment slow and teasing, the next hot and consuming. His hand slid higher on your thigh, fingers pressing with intent, and you couldnât stop the whimper that escaped against his lips.
Rayâs smirk curved through the kiss, but he didnât tease you this time. Instead, his palm gripped your hip and pulled you flush against him, making your breath hitch at the hard length you could feel. âThere now,â he murmured, lips brushing your ear, voice low and roughened with want. âThatâs the reaction I was looking for.â
Your answer was a needy press of your body to his, and that was all the invitation he needed. His hands swept down, one bracing your thigh as he hitched your leg around his hip, caging you tighter against the bulkhead. The movement was practiced, effortlessâlike everything else about himâand it left you shivering at the sheer control he carried in every touch.
His mouth returned to yours, deeper, hungrier now, swallowing your gasps as his hips ground into yours with deliberate pressure. The slow ease was gone; in its place was something hotter, more consuming, but still steady in its precision. Every movement promised exactly what was coming, each brush and press leaving no room for doubt.Â
"P-Please...touch me,"Â you gasped against his lips. When he pulled back, the dark gaze he fixed on you nearly undid you by itself.
His hand on your thigh left to trace along your waist, just above your belt. "Touch you? I think you want more than that." His voice was low, a hint of mockery, teasing and heated. His lips brushed along your jaw. "Come now, tell me what you want."
Tilting your head to the side, offering more to him, your face burned as you whined, "I-I want you to fuck me."
He grinned. "There's a good girl." Kissing along your neck, he ground himself against your hips. His hand trailed over your beltline, then delved below, and you gasped as he crooked his fingers against your panties. He chuckled as he felt the wetness. "My, aren't we eager?" With a grunt, his finger shifted your panties aside and dragged through your folds.Â
You moaned, dropping your head to his shoulders. Rocking against his hand and hip as best you could, heat pooled quickly as he circled your clit. "M-More..."
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He complied though and captured your lips as he drove his finger into your cunt, pumping slowly as he swallowed your moans. His lips moved against yours tantalizingly slow, at odds with the quick movement of his finger. His hips kept you pressed against the wall, while your legs kept you from sliding while pressed against the bulge in his pants. With a sharp thrust of his hand, he grinned as you bucked against him. "Let's get you more comfortable."
Your chest heaving as he unwrapped you from around his waist, he kneeled as he undid your belt. His fingers trailed down your thighs as he slid your pants down. Moving them to the side, he gazed up at you as he kissed up the inside of your thighs. You leaned against the wall to steady yourself as he worked higher and higher. When his lips pressed over your clit, your fingers flew to his hair as he sucked gently. Your head fell back as you bucked against his face.
Ray's tongue swirled around your clit, sending electric shocks through your body. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you.
You tangled your fingers in his blond strands, pulling him closer, desperate for more. "Fuck, Ray," you gasped, your hips bucking against his face. You didn't care that you were somewhere anyone could see, provided they looked close enough. All you could focus on was the way his tongue dragged through your folds, the gentle scratch of his beard against your thighs, the strength of his hands holding you in place.
He growled against your folds, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge. Two fingers slid inside you, curling perfectly as he pumped them in and out. As your legs shook, he grinned.
When he pulled away, the whine that left you sent heat flashing across your face. 'He has no right being this hot and this good at sex!' You watched as he undid his pants, your gaze fixing on his cock as it sprang out. Thick, a bead of precum on the end, you lifted your gaze to his.
His hands pressed against the backs of your thighs as he lifted you against the wall. "Think it's time I gave you something better." His thick cock pressed against your entrance, the tip sliding through your wet folds. With a swift thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you deliciously. "So tight..." A low groan rumbled in his chest as he began to move, his hips snapping against yours.
You clung to him tightly, tilting your hips so he hit deeper. "R-Ray! Don't stop!" The heat was building fast - too fast. Tightening around him, hooking your ankles behind his back, you buried your face against his chest as the tip of his cock hit the sweet spot deep within you.
Ray's hips slammed against yours, his thick cock hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the space under the stairs, mingling with his grunts and your low moans. A hand came up to tilt your face up. "Let me see you come undone, sweetheart."
As his fingers worked between you, you angled your hips better. Your cry was swallowed by his lips as his fingers rolled your clit between them. The heat built, spreading from your stomach up your chest. Digging your nails into his back, you cried out against him, your eyes closing. Your legs tightened, shaking, and when he pressed against your clit, you nearly screamed into his mouth as you convulsed.
He continued thrusting through your orgasm. "That's it, baby." His pace changed to deep and slow, slamming his hips against yours in a way that you knew you'd never forget. Only when your shaking gentled did he grip your thighs again and press you against the wall harder.
âGripping his shoulders, your tongue moved against his as he pounded into you harder. His cock throbbed, and you moaned softly. Your body buzzed faintly with the beginnings of overstimulation, but with a grunt, he slammed his hips against yours and still. A muffled keen left you as you felt the warmth filling you.
He pressed his forehead against yours when he released your lips, his breath mingling with yours as you both panted. Releasing your thighs, he brought his hands up to cradle your face. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks, wiping away the sweat and tears that had gathered there. "Are you alright?"
You nodded shakily. "Y-Yeah." Your hips felt bruised, your back ached, but the gentleness of his hands on your face made all of it melt away. A moan left you as he pulled out, then helped you stand against the wall. Heat tinged your cheeks as you felt warmth trickling down your leg. "I-I should probably get cleaned up." Biting your lip, you glanced at the door a few feet away, then at him.Â
His gaze slid to the door, then back, a smirk tugging at his lips. "If you want, you can help me finish coating the ship," his smirk grew as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your ear, "and we can clean up together afterwards."
A shiver ran through your frame as you pulled your pants back on quickly. "I...would like that." You couldn't help but imagine that maybe you'd get another chance with him. 'Can I even focus on anything else now?'
Ray chuckled, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back just enough to look at you. âGood girl. Then itâs settled.â
His hand lingered at your waist, steadying you as you caught your balance. The way his thumb brushed lazily over your hip made it clear he wasnât quite finished with youâeven if the two of you were about to step back into the sunlight.Â
Your nerves sang. The casual touch was almost worse than his kisses â steady, grounding, and impossible to ignore. 'Nope. I will not be able to focus. Not at all.'
âCome on then,â he said at last, tugging you gently toward the deck. âLetâs make sure your ship doesnât fall apart before you reach Fishman Island.â His smirk deepened, eyes glinting. âAfter that⌠weâll worry about the cleanup.â
The heat in your chest flared all over again, and you couldnât stop the grin tugging at your lips as you followed him out of the shadows.
September is Suicide Awareness Month, so I thought I'd share my personal flag design I made!
Been a One Piece fan almost my entire life & it means a lot to me. I'm a writer, which is why there's a scroll & quillpen, & Lyra constellation because I love music.
They've been bottling up their anger, maybe their grief, and you do your best to help them.
Characters:
Katakuri
Marco
Koby
Notes:
Also found on Ao3!
â Check my page for Requests! â
You gasp as something whistles past your ribs, a sharp sting following after. A hand clamps on your shoulder, strong enough to root you in place, and you find yourself staring into the blazing eyes of Big Momâs second eldest son. Katakuriâs face is impassive, but the tension in his jaw betrays the storm inside.
âLeave.â The single word curls out like smoke, calm â but edged in warning.
The pirate barks a laugh, staggering to his feet. âNot a chance, mochi boy.â He levels his spear at you.
Katakuri doesnât hesitate. His arm lashes forward, mochi stretching, wrapping around the man. With brutal efficiency, he slams the pirate into the ground. The other hand never leaves your shoulder.
You squirm against his grip, but it doesnât budge. âLet me go.â
âNo.â His voice is low, clipped. The pirate groans on the ground, and Katakuri smashes him down again before flinging him away like refuse. Only then does his gaze return to you, sharp and assessing. âYouâre hurt.â
You let out a low huff. "Just a scratch. That's all."
Without warning, he scoops you up and holds you against his chest. "You're an idiot. You're bleeding. A lot."
Shifting uncomfortably against his chest, you groan. "Kata, let me down," you whine. "It's just a scratch, I promise."
A quiet sigh, but he doesn't stop until you've reached the infirmary. Sitting you down on the table in the middle of the room, he moves to the counter and grabs a first aid kit. "Shirt off."
A little embarrassed, you hesitate, but at his glare you strip it off. "Look, it's fine," you huff, frowning at him.Â
His gaze pierces you, pinning you to the table, and he kneels. "If it were fine, you wouldn't be shaking."
You clamp your jaws shut, face burning at that. 'Damnit...' You say nothing though as he quietly pulls out some gauze, bandages, and antiseptic. Wincing as he dabs a soaked cottonball along the long cut, you watch his face as he concentrates. After a moment, you notice his gaze seems elsewhere. Not like when he uses observation, but more like he's thinking of something else.
His gaze flicks to yours as he applies the bandage. "What?"
"You're thinking about something," you say bluntly. "You seem kind of...angry."
A quiet scoff sounds from behind his scarf as he turns back to the bandage. "I'm not angry."
"You are." Carefully, you reach out. Tracing your fingers on his cheek, you don't flinch when his gaze snaps to yours. "Kata, what's wrong?"
He says nothing at first, but when the kit's packed, he takes your face in his hands. "You are a fool. You shouldn't have been fighting. Every time you fight, you get hurt." His hands linger against your cheeks for a moment, then he drops them. "Stop trying to fight when you don't need to."
Your face burned, your hands clenching. "I don't need to fight, but I want to. I can't always have you and everyone else protecting me." It didn't matter if you weren't very good yet; you didn't want to have to rely on the others all the time.
âYou wouldn't need to protect yourself like that if you stayed below,â he grunted, putting the kit away. Without waiting for an answer, he picked you up against his chest. âIf you get in a fight and don't come out, what will I do without you?â
Wincing as your side pulled, you sighed and laid your head against his chest. "I can't always have you protecting me though, Kata... You won't always be there."
"I would if you'd let me." Leaving the infirmary, he passed a few others, who quickly avoided his gaze. He nudged open the door to his cabin. "But you're stubborn."
You scowled as he sat you down on the bed. "At least I don't keep shit to myself," you shot back. 'I swear he's alway keeping quiet about what's bothering him. He never tells me anything, but he knows he can.'
He sat by you, then carefully unwound his scarf. "You make me worry, alright?"
You watched in surprised as he laid the scarf aside. 'He...took it off? In front of me?' You couldn't remember him ever doing that before. "Kata..."
He pulled you to him. "If I said more, would you keep yourself safe? For me?"
Letting out a low breath as his warmth seeped into your skin, you gave a reluctant nod. "I can...but I still want to be able to protect myself, okay? Please?" You tilted your head up to look at him. The lines across his face, the sharp teeth - it was all unexpected. 'So he's...a fishman? Or part?'Â
He meets your gaze for a long moment, then lets out a quiet sigh. "I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt."
You laid your hand on his arm. "I know...and I can't promise I won't, but if I train, I can keep from getting hurt worse." You smile faintly at his huff. "But if you're worried, you don't need to wait for me to get hurt to say anything."
His gaze softened, and he wrapped his arm around you.Â
Leaning into his embrace, you rested your head against him. "But...I'll stay below for a while." You smirk and shoot him a sly look. "And maybe if you talk to me more, I'll get you some donuts from Lanai next time we stop there."Â
He scowled and gently shoved you away. "You play dirty." Getting up, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.
You couldn't help but laugh. 'Maybe he'll finally talk more and not bottle everything up.'
You hadn't missed the excited look on his face when you mentioned his favorite food.
Watching the blonde man from your spot on the grass, you couldn't help but worry. 'He's taking this a lot harder than he's letting on.' Not that you could blame him. Looking at the graves in front of you, you tried to ignore the freshness of the stone. The names carved there.
Didn't matter that you'd never forget who was here. You didn't like seeing it, no matter how many times you came back.
Letting out a yell, Marco suddenly launched upwards, startling you, in a burst of blue fire.
Calmly, you walked back to the meeting spot. 'He'll come down soon. You had to wait, like, two fucking hours, but you can survive this again. You know he's just grieving still.' Many of the crew still were. A few had gone back home to families, some had drifted to other crews, and the remnants aboard the Moby Dick were struggling.
Especially Marco.
Sitting under the tree, watching the dappled shadows, you glanced down the path and spotted the Red-Haired Pirates moored there. 'I'm so glad Shanks is protecting this place.' You'd been afraid someone would've desecrated the graves had they been elsewhere.
But no one wanted to mess with the Yonko who stopped the war eight months ago.
Heat washed over you and Marco landed a few feet away, his gaze fixed on the ground. Walking over, he leaned against the tree next to you, then slid down to sit. Still looking down, he reached out and pulled you to him.
You didn't object, knowing how much he needed this. It was quiet for a while, then you glanced at him with a small smile. "Want to talk yet?" You'd been trying for months. Not pressuring, just offering an ear to the grieving first division commander.
His hands shook, and his grip on you grew tighter. "I should have protected them." A shuddering intake. "Pops...he trusted me."
Frowning, you lifted your hand to cup his cheek. "Marco, you did what you could."
"It wasn't enough!" His shout hurt your ears, but you didn't flinch away. He closed his eyes, tipping his head against the tree. Your hand slid down to his chest, feeling the tremor beneath. His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. "It wasn't enough. Ace...that idiot... He took Akainu's bait. He was too proud."
Lifting your hand to rub along his shoulder and neck, you sighed. "He was trying to protect his brother." You give a faint snort. "You know how he was when he got protective."
Marco scowled at you, but there was no heat behind it. "Yes, I remember. I remember you getting yourself caught by those bounty hunters and that hot headed fool bursting in to save you." He brought his hand to yours, his scowl relaxing. "I thought your burns would never heal."
Your smile grows a little. "You did your best considering the circumstances, Marco. And everyone knows it." Your gaze flicked to the graves. They stood against the reddening sky like sentinels, the weapons in front of them gleaming. "Pops... He knew what he was doing. He knew it was either him or Ace."
Marco's scoff rasped against the air. "And it ended up being neither." He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, then tipped his head forward until his lips touched your forehead. "So many others were lost, too..."
You swallowed at that; you'd tried not to dwell on the Voices lost, one by one, snuffing out suddenly and leaving a void. "But it could have been worse."
A sigh left him, and you felt him relax under your hand. "I owe Shanks so much..." He smiled, though you could tell it was forced. "And you. I think I might've lost it completely had you not dragged me away afterwards."
You sniffed, wrinkling your nose as a teasing hint colored your tone. "I only did that because Shanks asked me."
Marco's brow shot up. "Oh, only because he asked you?" He chuckled. It was warm - the first you'd heard in nearly a year. "And here I thought it was because you liked me." His voice cracked on the last word, but when he looked at you, there was the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Debatable," you respond, turning your head away before he could kiss you. Grinning, you turned and kissed his cheek. "Feel good enough to go yet? Or do you want to stay a bit longer?"
His gaze drifted to the graves. A big inhale that lifted his chest, then he let it out slowly. "I think I'm fine. Not...not completely, but better than I was before." Standing, he picked you up. "Want me to fly us to the ship? Or are you okay to walk some more?"
You rolled your eyes. "I will walk, thank you. Last thing I want is more of Shanks' teasing." You loved the red-haired man, but for someone nearing forty, you could swear he was an overgrown, drunk teenager.
Marco grinned. "You know...if I fly us back and he teases us, I'll you something he did as a kid that will embarrass the hell out of him, yoi."
You grinned back. "Okay, I can deal with it then. But you have to promise me it's something good."
His laugh warmed your chest as he set you down. "When we tease him, Beckman won't resist needling him for weeks, yoi."
Clinging to his back, you wrapped your arms around his neck. "More than worth it." Kissing his cheek again, you tightened your grip as he spread his wings and laughed as he took off.
Panting, you stumbled to a stop as you looked around the darkened area. Shadows lengthened from the ships and remains of ships scattered here. The setting sun, almost gone, made the ship graveyard seem almost eerie. But you didn't think to be nervous about being out here at night. 'Come on... Helmeppo said he trains out here a lot. He has to be close by!'Â
Moving again, you hadn't gone far when night slammed down like one of Sentomaru's axe's. Sighing, you squinted, trying to see in the weak starlight and nearly-gone sunlight that was weakening by the second. A dull thud echoed in the quiet after you passed a large pile of shattered keels.
A pained cry echoed faintly in the next second.
Letting out a breath of pure relief, you bolted forward. Rounding the next pile - looked like shattered masts - you spotted a shape huddled in the shadow of a Man o' War. "Koby!"
"Leave me alone!"Â he yelled, struggling to his feet. His fist curled back and before you could reach him, he landed a blow against the bent keel of the behemoth. A pained hiss reached your ears.
Growling, you strode forward purposefully and grabbed his bandaged arm before he could do it again. "Goddammit, Koby, stop it!"
He tried to shake you off. "Get off me!"
You held firm, fingers digging into his arm almost painfully. "Not until you sit the fuck down!"Â
He froze; you never cursed. Not this much, especially. His tearful gaze snapped to yours. "Why are you out here?"
Pulling him to the side, you forced him to sit down on an old capstan. "Looking for you, idiot." You sat next to him, keeping a firm grip on his arm. "Look, ever since Luffy reappeared on Fishman Island, you've been a mess. He comes back, Garp and Akainu call you to the Fleet Admirals office, and suddenly you storm off for a damn week and come back bandaged to hell!" Taking a deep breath, you forced your voice to not rise. "What's wrong?"
His eyes widened as you spoke, but when you finished, his breath hitched, then he broke down sobbing. Landing across your lap, face against your stomach, arms painfully wrapped around your waist, his entire body shook with the force of his crying. His voice came out in choked, shuddering breaths. Your shirt was soaked in seconds.
Shocked, you couldn't react for a few heartbeats. 'Geez, I know he's emotional, but this is...new.' Gingerly, you rubbed your hand along his back. "Koby...what's wrong?" you asked softly.
Sniffing, his grip tightened. "I'm scared..." When you frowned, the words came tumbling out like a flood, like he couldn't hold them back, his voice muffled against you. "What if I'm not good enough? What if I can't be the marine Sakazuki wants? All those deaths at Marineford, all those pirates from Impel Down that escaped, what are we even doing here?!" His voice rang among the desecrated ships, cracking sharply, the blackened sky seeming to crush them under its weight.Â
Curling your fingers, you slowly combed through his hair. It had never failed to calm him before, not once in the last three years since he'd arrived to the marines. "What did Sakazuki want exactly?"
Gradually, his sobs subsided. Finally, wiping his face, he sat up. "S-Sorry...."
Letting go of him, you waited patiently.
After a few hiccupy breaths, he spoke. "H-He wants me to stop training with Helmeppo. Said he's too weak, that I won't get far with him."
You frown at this. "Stop training with him? But didn't you come here with Helmoppo? Both of you training under Garp?" He nodded and you wrapped your arms around him. "That's ridiculous. Don't listen to him. What did Garp say about it?"
"Called him an idiot," Koby muttered. Rubbing a hand across his face, he leaned against you. "Garp said I could do fine with him. Maybe better than if I left him behind. I'm already captain; Garp thinks I could go further." Bringing his hands up to grip your arm, you could feel his barely suppressed tremors. "Sakazuki... He said I...I was weak with him. T-That relying on Helmeppo w-would only hold me back."
Groaning, you tightened your grip around him. "Sakazuki is an idiot! Who knows how far you'd be without Helmeppo!" Bringing your hand up to card through his hair again, you smooth back his bangs. "He's really worried about you, you know. I am, too."
Koby tilted his head to meet your gaze. "Why are you two always worried about me? You should be more worried about yourself! Aren't you a lieutenant commander now?"
You roll your eyes. "So what? I'm not the one having a breakdown in the ship graveyard." Smiling softly as his shoulders slump, you chuckle. "Seriously, Koby. Ignore Akainu. You're doing fine. You don't need to abandon Helmeppo, and Garp and everyone else knows it."
He sighed quietly, wiping his arm across his eyes. "O-Okay... I wouldn't have done that, but...thanks for saying it."
Standing, making him stand with you, you keep your arm around his waist as you guide him back towards the marine base in the distance. "Of course. Now, let's get you back before Helmeppo comes out here frantic."Â
He groaned, hanging his head. "He won't leave me alone for days..."
You chuckle, pulling him closer as you walk. "No, and neither will I."
pls first time with beckman, i LOVE that big man â¤ď¸â¤ď¸đŤŚ
Officer's Choice
Type:
Story
Warnings:
NSFW | First Time | Flirting | Oral | Praise Kink | Age Gap | Pet Names
Summary:
The Red Force, the crew's new ship, is done. And instead of telling his drunken captain, Beckman invites you to come along to explore the new vessel.
Characters:
Benn Beckman X M!Reader
Word Count:
3533
Notes:
This is actually a M!Reader continuation of Shooting Lessons!
Also found on Ao3!
â Check my page for Requests! â
Sipping your ale, you couldnât help but watch Shanks with a mix of amusement and disbelief. 'Seas, how is that man not dead from alcohol poisoning?'
The redheaded captain laughed so hard he nearly toppled from his chair. A few of the senior officers sat around him: Roux gnawing a meat-on-a-bone as usual, Yasopp already a little plastered, and Hongo somewhere between faint concern and mild amusement. The rest of the crew was scattered through the bar, blending with the noise and chaos.
Beckman, seated to his left, kept one eye on Shanks and the other on you. Smoke curled lazily from his hand as he smirked, leaning back with a drink. His gaze drifted around the room, watching the crew as they drank and played games.
A scuffle broke out between Limejuice and Gab, sending several crew members diving away amid bursts of laughter. You stifled a smirk, feeling a small, rare lightness in your chest. For five months, the older members had teased you relentlesslyâShanks in particularâbut tonight, the tension seemed to have loosened.
You sat with some of the younger crew, mug in hand, letting your shoulders slump. No one here is teasing me; the senior officers are distracted or drunk. You finally let out a slow breath, noticing how the tightness in your jaw was easing for the first time in weeks.
Beckman rose, catching your attention. He moved toward you, exhaling a curl of smoke as he stopped by your chair. âNeed some help with somethinâ? Care to join me?â
Ignoring the glances from the crew, you rose and fell into step beside him, your heart picking up. âSure.âÂ
The barâs noise muffled as the door shut behind you, leaving only the soft splash of water against the canal stones. The walkways on either side were smooth, with bridges arching over smaller canals. Light danced across the water from lamps, torches, and moonlight, while distant chatter and the occasional grunt or whinny from haltered bulls punctuated the night.
His fingers brushed yours, and heat prickled along your skin. He stepped just a fraction closer, his smirk in place, making your chest tighten.
You stumbled over a loose stone, cursing the wind. 'Damnit! Last thing I want is to fall into the canal.'Â Straightening, you pulled your jacket tighter as the chill bit at your skin. âWhat do you need help with?â
âShipâs done,â he said, tapping ash to the ground. âWould tell Shanks, but heâs already drunk.â He chuckled, drawing on his smoke. âFigured yeâd like to see it first.â Every small gestureâthe flick of a strand from his brow, the curl of smokeâmade your chest flutter.
Excitement warmed you at the thought of seeing the new ship before the others. âSure Shanks wonât mind? I mean, he is the captain.â
Beckman barked a laugh that echoed off the water. âHe canât even look straight right now. Wonât remember in the morninâ. Besides, if the rest of the crewâs seeing it tomorrow, might as well know where the quarters are.â He grinned at you, that teasing, impossible-to-read smirk.
You grinned, heart fluttering. "Will there actually be enough space for everyone? The Scarlett Storm was a little cramped." It hadnât been terrible, but getting kicked half the time someone rolled in their hammock had grown old fast.
He nodded, letting out another stream of smoke. "Aye. Weâll be able to take on a lot more crew if we want." His hand rested on your lower back, making your breath hitch, as you stepped over the last bridge before the docks.
Ahead, a familiar figurehead rose against the moonlight. Four fangs, two forward-curving hornsâthe snarling beast was simple but fierce. "Is that from the old ship?" you asked.
He shook his head. "No. Old one was too small, part of the keel." He led you onto the wooden walkways, past ropes dangling along the shipâs side. "We'll take the gangplank tomorrow, but for nowâwe climb."
The rope creaked softly under your weight as you followed him up. Reaching the deck, you took his offered hand, feeling the warmth of his skin as you stepped onto the wood. Three masts rose before you, the smaller mizzenmast with a spanker at the back. Thenâpalm trees? You chuckled at the tiny grove planted in a sandy, squared-off area on the quarterdeck, leaves swaying lazily in the breeze. 'Huh⌠donât think Iâve ever seen trees on a ship before.'
Beckman let out a faint sigh. "Shanks thought they were a good idea." He released your hand and motioned for you to follow. "Letâs check below."
Your hand itched to grab his back, but you resisted, trailing at his heels as he led the way
Through the tool and supply rooms, your fingers traced the smooth walls. A large cargo hold stretched out like a cavern, your own breathing echoing in the space. The kitchen, pantry, and galley looked big enough for the entire crew and then some. 'Roux will love that pantry.'â
The second deck ran over half the shipâs length. Cannons were already in place, crates of cannonballs stacked in every other space. A powder room toward the back had a strong bolt. On the third deck, long rows of posts ran from ceiling to floor, evenly spaced. Open, hatched windows let in enough light to see clearly, and deadbolts indicated where the rooms could be secured during storms.
Beckmanâs hand gripped your shoulder, and you turned to meet his gaze. "Thisâll be plenty of room for everyone." His eyes roamed the space as he let out smoke. "And at the beginninâ, they can spread out and pick the best spots before we bring anyone new aboard." Giving your shoulder a quick squeeze, he headed for the stairs. "Come on; think the rooms are up here."
"Rooms?" You followed, walking at his side. "Like⌠offices?" It grew dark as you left the lights reach.
He nodded, the glowing tip of his cigarette punctuating his words. "Captainsâ office and cabin, a few officersâ berths, and some private offices for us if we need. Not muchâll be done there that canât be done on deck. Mostly just for storinâ thingsâEternal poses, charts, that sort of thing." You felt his gaze flicked to you.
You traced your hand along the wall as you walked, acutely aware of him barely an inch away. His fingers brushed yours, and you jumped.
"Not usually this jump," he murmured. "Everythinâ alright?" The faint hiss of wood under his hand, along with distant creaks, filled the quiet corridor.
You let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah⌠just not fond of walking in the dark." Not entirely a lieâyou were hoping not to faceplant into a door, but you also didnât want to walk into him. 'Goddamnit. Why did he ask me to come here?' Youâd been around him a lot recently, but this was the first time heâd pulled you aside when an older member mightâve been better company.
A quiet hum, then you heard him stop. "Here's a room."
Weak light filtered through the open window of what must have been the infirmary. Three cots lined the wall, a thick table was bolted to the floor in the center, and counters ran along two sides with cabinets above. A sink in the corner caught your attention. "Shanks went all out, didnât he?"
"Needs to," Beckman said, stepping in behind you. "Weâre headinâ to the New World. Canât have a half-rate ship." He tapped your shoulder lightly before moving back into the corridor. The faint light from the infirmary made it easier to walk without keeping your hand on the wall. "Check any room ye see. Shanksâll have the captainâs cabin, of course, but there should be a few single rooms, and a larger berth for the rest."
You watched him disappear through a door up ahead. Passing a row of large bunks, you realized the room had been designed for Gab, Snake, and Rouxâthey were easily the biggest bunks on the ship. A door further down drew your eye. Well, found the navigation room. Glass-door cabinets, a wide table, and a desk with chair lined the walls.
Moving further, you opened another door and stepped inside. Running your hand along the desk to the right of the door, you scanned the dresser, nightstand, and large bed. "Hey, Beckman," you called, a touch of amusement in your voice. "Did Shanks really think some rooms needed a private washroom?"
Coming in a moment later, he chuckled when you nodded toward the door in the corner. "Heard somethinâ about that, but thought he meant just his room had it." His gaze flicked around the space. "This oneâs nice, though. Might even be big enough for meâand whoever canât stop followinâ me everywhere."
It took a moment to register what he said. You blinked, turning and meeting his crooked grin. "I have not been following you everywhere." Heat flushed your cheeks, but you didnât look away. 'Have I?'Â The thought alone made your chest warm.Â
He chuckled low, stepping closer. "Kid, yeâve been followinâ me âround like a puppy since we started our lessons."
You took a step back. "O-Okay⌠maybe I have. But youâve been teaching me, right?" You tried to shrug casually, but another step back brought you to the wall. Your heart spiked as you realized he was cornering you. Looking up, you met his gazeâcalm, sharp, silverâand felt the heat of his body press close, thick with the scent of cologne and tobacco.
He hummed. "Aye, Iâve been teachinâ ye, but even outside that, ye donât go far." His hand rested against the wall beside your head. He took one last drag on his cigarette, then ground the butt under his boot. "Startinâ to wonder if thereâs more yer not sayinâ."
You swallowed, forcing a smirk. "Thereâs not." 'Oh seasâŚ' "Iâm not that good at lying. Canât hide things well either." His other hand rose to cup your jaw, and your heart skipped a beat.
His grin widened as he leaned down, stopping with his face just inches from yours. "No, ye proved that with our first lesson." A spark of warmth shot through you at his quiet chuckle. "And yeâve only gotten worse since."
His breath ghosted across your lips. You tilted your head slightly upward, heart hammering. "I have not," you murmured, meeting his gaze.
"Ye have." His thumb traced a line of fire across your cheek. "But it's cute. Just wishin' ye'd say something..." He trailed off, his brow rising slowly.
Your brain fizzled as you struggled to think. "S-Say something? Like what?"
Beckmanâs grin deepened, eyes glinting with amusement. "Like⌠tellinâ me what yeâre really thinkinâ. Or feelinâ." He leaned just a fraction closer, so your breaths mingled, and your pulse went haywire.
Your lips parted, but no words came. Heat pooled low in your belly, and your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to reach for himâor pull away.
"Kid," he murmured, voice low and gravelly, "donât need words if yer too stubborn." His fingers ghosted along your collarbone, drawing a shiver from you. "But the way ye look at meâŚtells me plenty."
You swallowed, biting back a gasp. "I⌠Iâm notâ"
"Aye, ye are," he interrupted, thumb tracing lightly along your jaw again. "And I like it." His smirk softened into something almost fond, though the heat in his gaze didnât waver. "Might even say itâs irresistible." Without warning, his lips pressed against yours.
You froze for half a heartbeat.
Beckman's lips moved against yours, firm yet gentle, coaxing you to respond. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss. Your breath hitched as you felt the first tentative brush of his tongue against your lips, asking for entrance.
With a shuddering sigh, you parted them slightly, and he delved in slowly.Â
Sliding his hand from the wall to your shoulder, his fingers brushed down your arm. Breaking the kiss, leaving you both panting, his hand stopped on your waist. "Do you want this?"
"Yes." The word slipped out before you could think. Heart faltering, you looked away as flames raced across your face. "But, I, ah-"
He carefully made you look at him. "It's alright. I'll teach ye." With that, he claimed your lips again, softer this time. Pulling you against his body, his hand on your waist slid to your lower back. He guided you back towards the bed.
You couldn't help a small whine when he released you.
Sitting on the edge, he chuckled. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Ye'll get more." Leaning back on his elbow, he guided you to straddle his waist. As you settled onto him, he groaned softly. "Come 'ere." Pulling you down, his hand guided yours to the bulge in his jeans as his lips met yours.
Gasping softly, you felt along his hard length. With a muffled moan, you ran your hand over him, curling your fingers to cup him.
His hips jerked upwards as you cupped him, a low groan rumbling in his chest."Like that," he murmured against your lips, encouraging you to keep touching him. "Feels so good when ye touch me like that."
Emboldened by his reaction, you started to move your hand along his length, feeling every ridge and contour through the fabric of his jeans. He was so hard, so hot even through the denim. Warmth coiled in your stomach.
Sliding his calloused hand under your shirt, his fingers traced along your stomach. Smirking as you shivered, he moved higher, lifting the fabric.Â
Taking the hint, you leaned up and took your shirt off. Tossing it to the side, your chest heaving, a moan left you as hips lips pressed over a nipple. Your hands gripped his shoulders as his lips moved across your chest, his tongue flicking against your skin. Rocking your hips against his by instinct, your grip grew firmer as he groaned.
Moving up, his hand gripped your hip, guiding you to grind against him. "Fuck, darlin'." His lips reached your neck, and you tilted your head back. He sat up, and his other hand traced across your waistband. "Want to take these off?"
You nodded, gasping softly when he undid the zipper.Â
He nudged you off.Â
When you were standing in front of him, you took in his flushed skin, dark eyes, and a look you couldn't name.
His fingers grazed your skin - making you shiver and moan - as he helped you undress, leaving you in only your boxers. He kissed you deeply, then stood. "My turn." Undoing the sash, his low, breathy chuckle filled the room as you watched his jeans fall, revealing the bulge in his own boxers. He took your hand and guided it to grip him.
Slipping through the slit, you looked up as he let out a low groan. Emboldened, you wrapped your fingers around him and stroked gently.
"Good boy," he murmured, grabbing your chin and kissing you again. His hand went to your hardening length, and you gasped, bucking into his grip immediately.Â
Your fingers tightened around him, and you gave a firmer stroke, earning a deeper groan.
With a gasp, he released your lips. "Fuck, sweetheart." His eyes gleaming, he kneeled in front of you. Smirking up at you, he leaned forward.
Your hands, now free, immediately flew to his hair as he kissed your cock through your boxers. His fingers blazed across your skin as he pulled them down. Before you could think, he flicked his tongue along your cock. Moaning, your fingers tighten.
He wrapped his lips around the head, his gaze flicking to yours. His tongue swirled around the head, teasing the sensitive underside before he took you deeper into his mouth.
Feeling him hum, the vibrations sent heat through your cock. "Beckman," you gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair as he bobbed his head. You rocked your hips, but he gripped them. 'Fuck, he's so hot.'
Holding you still, he continued bobbing, his nose pressing against the base and a gentle suction as he retreated.
Warmth pooled fast - too fast. With a cry, you came undone. Your eyes nearly rolled back as he moaned, your cum spilling down his throat. Panting heavily, you blinked and suddenly he was standing in front of you.
Chuckling, he kissed you; you could taste something salty on his lips. Pulling back, he sat on the edge of the bed. "Want to try?"
Nodding, you kneeled between his spread legs.
He groaned as your small hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a tentative squeeze. "That's it," he murmured encouragingly, his own hand covering yours to guide your movements. "Just like that."
Your tongue darted out to lick a bead of pre-cum from the tip, earning you a sharp intake of breath. Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, sucking gently as you explored with your tongue.Â
"Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. His fingers threaded through your hair, gripping lightly as he fought the urge to thrust deeper.
Moaning softly, you only managed to swallow half before you had to stop. Your gaze flicked up.
His breath coming in heavy pants, one hand stroked your jaw. "Don't have to take all of me, sweetheart."
Bringing your hand up to stroke the rest of his length, you bobbed as best you could, trying to repeat his motions.
His grip in your hair tightened. Something dripped from his cock and you licked it up; he moaned, his head falling back. "Doin' fine, love," he said in a strained voice. His breath hitched as your hand tightened around his shaft, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. "Just like that," he murmured encouragingly, his own hand covering yours to guide your movements."Ye're a natural at this."
Taking a deep breath, you bob, taking him a little deeper.Â
His hips bucked, his grip tightening further. "Fuck, sweetheart." His throbbed against your tongue. "Less ye want to swallow, pull back."
You didn't. Pulling back, you tried to suck like he had done on you.
He bucked again and with a loud groan, something salty and thick spilled into your throat.
Swallowing instinctively, you pulled back with a gasp when you felt like you would choke on the salty but not unpleasant cum. It splattered on your chin, chest, lips, and you gazed up at him, your breath coming in heavy pants.
He met your gaze, chest still heaving, a thin sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. "Ye did so well fer me, love," he praised softly, thumb brushing a stray drop from your chin before pressing it to your lips. "Open up."
You parted your lips obediently, sucking gently when he slid his thumb inside, tasting him faintly on his skin.
A low groan rumbled from his chest. "Come âere," he murmured, tugging you up.
You curled into his lap, arms slipping around his shoulders as his wrapped firm around you. Nuzzling against his neck, you kept your eyes closed, shivering faintly when he used your shirt to wipe you clean. When he finished, you tilted your head up blindly, pressing a soft kiss against his throat.
His chuckle vibrated against your lips. "Such a good boy."
Heat flooded you at that, and you opened your eyes to find him watching you with that crooked grin. "Is this why you wanted me to come with you?"
He smirked and kissed you softly. When he drew back, his palm cupped your cheek, thumb stroking gently. "Maybe," he teased. "Could say I had two birds in mindâcheck the ship, and check somethinâ else." His hand trailed down your arm, lingering. "Knew yeâd been watchinâ me. I been watchinâ ye too, since the day ye showed up."
Your smile widened as you lifted your hand to rest against his neck. His pulse thudded fast under your palm. "Why didnât you say anything?"
He huffed a quiet laugh, leaning his forehead to yours. "Sweetheart, Iâm a forty-year-old man. Youâre whatâtwenty? Last thing I wanted was ye thinkinâ I was some creep sniffinâ âround." He brushed a kiss to your brow, then down your cheek, voice softening. "But after that first lesson⌠been waitinâ for the right time." His lips brushed the corner of yours, lingering. "New ship, private room, and you? Tonightâs damn near perfect."
A low laugh left you. "You make it sound like you planned all this."
"Aye," he murmured, grin tugging at his lips again. "Call it a gamble that paid off." His arms tightened around you as if he had no intention of letting go. "Anâ Iâm not lettinâ ye run off now that Iâve won."
The thought made your chest swell, and you pressed another kiss to his jaw, smiling against his skin. For once, you didnât care about the rest of the crew, the ship, or tomorrow. Just the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your hand, and the warmth of his hold, solid and sure.
