By the way, this is a fiction starring Benn Beckmann and his trans masc lover. I’m not myself a trans man but as non-binary person, AFAB. Writing about a trans man makes the most sense for me. If you have any advice or comments, don’t hesitate. Be careful, this story uses Y/N to describe the Reader. Also, English is not my native language, so excuse me for any mistakes.
Plot: The crew of the redhead discovers a chest in a ship after a looting. Chest that is filled with lingerie, which gives ideas to Yasopp, and spice up the relationship between Beckmann and Y/N. (final)
The most dangerous
The weeks have gone by quite quickly since the red lingerie incident. Beckmann had learned to control his nosebleeds, thanks to his usual calmness. To the great misfortune of Shanks and the rest of the crew who were having fun with the situation.
Everyone was convinced that it was over for good until one evening.
Beckmann and Y/N had just left the party that was taking place on the Red Force bridge.
While he was lying on their bed, reading a final chapter before going to bed. Y/N changed in the bathroom.
- You know I love the crew, but how I love the quiet of our cabin.
- Hmm, I can’t hear you, little pirate.
Y/N passed his head through the bathroom door.
- I said like the calm by your side.
Beckmann smiled tenderly.
Then, he watched Y/N leave the bathroom. This time without any lingerie, any chemise, or mesh. But he was wearing an old t-shirt.
A t-shirt that Beckmann recognized almost immediately, because it was an old t-shirt of his. Which was way too big for Y/N because it got up to his knee.
- I’m borrowing it.
Beckmann says nothing, he simply fixes Y/N without saying anything.
Then... pschitt.
- Beckmann again, there’s nothing this time.
- It’s just that...
- What
Y/N handed him a tissue box placed on the desk since the beginning of these bloody incidents.
- It’s just an old t-shirt that’s too big.
- It’s worse, because you’re wearing my clothes.
- You’re ridiculous, you know.
- It’s just so nice to see you comfortable in my clothes, the atmosphere is very domestic.
This was the final part of this series.This one is a bit short, but it's my first time writing a series.
Comments and critics are appreciated, see you soon and take care.
By the way, this is a fiction starring Benn Beckmann and his trans masc lover. I’m not myself a trans man but as non-binary person, AFAB. Writing about a trans man makes the most sense for me. If you have any advice or comments, don’t hesitate. Be careful, this story uses Y/N to describe the Reader. Also, English is not my native language, so excuse me for any mistakes.
Plot: The crew of the redhead discovers a chest in a ship after a looting. Chest that is filled with lingerie, which gives ideas to Yasopp, and spice up the relationship between Beckmann and Y/N. (part 4)
Revenge
Although Y/N had not stopped harassing Beck, trying to understand the reason for his nosebleeds in recent weeks. Beckmann, cheeks a little red, had categorically refused to explain it to him. So, Y/N, almost as stubborn as Shanks, decided to go see Hongo who he hoped could explain the reason for his lover’s reactions.
After finding Hongo in the infirmary, who was finishing bandaging the arm of a recruit. Y/N exposed his problem to him and received a slightly embarrassed laugh from the doctor as an answer.
- Come on, you know what’s happening to him, don’t you?
Facing the lost gaze of Y/N, Hongo breathed deeply.
- Well, you see... finally when a man... or even for a woman, sees something that excites him in the sexual sense. They can have this kind of reaction.
Hongo now had a red face, which amused Y/N.
For a pirate accustomed to debauchery, he was the type easy to embarrass.
- Anyway, there you go, you must have had that kind of reaction before.
- No, never, yet I often see Beck in sexy situations.
- It can be more or less strong depending on the person, or even been completely absent in some people, don’t worry.
Hongo blushes even more. Although he is aware of the relationships between Beckmann and Y/N as a general doctor and close friends. He never wanted to dwell on the idea of their very intimate relationship other than in a medical setting.
- Anyway, that’s what. More questions.
- Nah, it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to make you look like an overripe tomato either.
After getting kicked out of the infirmary by an even redder Hongo, Y/N started to think.
A few days later, he decided to put his plan into action, just to check what Hongo was saying.
Enjoying a rather quiet evening, he waited for Beck in their cabin, taking advantage of his absence to finish some files for Hongo.
But when Beckmann arrived, he had his shirt unbuttoned, his hair down, and his eyes still.
And Y/N noticed a crucial detail, his shirt was a bit too small and tightened the muscles of his arms.
When Y/N met his gaze, he saw the proud look and the smirk of his lover.
- You know exactly what you’re doing.
- But not at all, my love
- You get the nicknames out now.
Y/N smiles proudly before getting up from his chair and moving slowly toward Beckmann, his smile growing.
- Now it’s my turn.
- Wait, Y/N what are you doing.
-But nothing, finally. I’m just making myself comfortable to continue the evening.
At these words, he opened the fly of his jeans, and unbuttoned them, which left a glimpse of transparent red lace panties.
- humm
- So, Beck, who wins this time.
Y/N took the opportunity to lift his t-shirt, revealing a bra matching the panties highlighting his newly flat chest.
Beckmann’s smile disappeared.
- No.
- Oh, yes.
- Y/N.
- Oh, yes, my love.
And as expected three seconds later: Pschht. New nosebleed.
- Hahaha. Too easy
When Beckmann came out of the bathroom, his face was finally clean. He glanced at Y/N lying on the bed reading a book still in the red underwear. When he raised his head, he saw Beckmann disappear into the bathroom again.
- What, Beck, again!!
Comment and critique are welcome if you feel so. By the way i'm also present on AO3 under the same username.
By the way, this is a fiction starring Benn Beckmann and his trans masc lover. I’m not myself a trans man but as non-binary person, AFAB. Writing about a trans man makes the most sense for me. If you have any advice or comments, don’t hesitate. Be careful, this story uses Y/N to describe the Reader. Also, English is not my native language, so excuse me for any mistakes.
Plot: The crew of the redhead discovers a chest in a ship after a looting. Chest that is filled with lingerie, which gives ideas to Yasopp, and spice up the relationship between Beckmann and Y/N. (part 3)
The lost bet
Although Beckmann’s reaction was reassuring Y/N about wearing lingerie in his presence, the change was slow in their daily lives.
Fortunately, they could count on the other crew members to help them.
It was thus, that a week after the nightdress episode, Y/N lost another bet, this time with Rockstar, against Lucky Roux.
Indeed, the latter had bet on the fact that Shanks would not cry after his brother Buggy after a week in the city. Once this bet won, by the presence of a Shanks sobbing on the railing after seeing a child with slightly bluish hair running in the streets, Lucky challenged Y/N and Rockstar to wear fishnet stockings for a whole day.
- You see, if there’s one thing I remember from today, it’s that the captain is a sensitive human being.
Rockstar sought to lighten the atmosphere that had become heavy in the cabin where the two losers were changing.
- My ass, yes. What I remember is that I’m never going with Lucky again. Besides, I’m on deck cleaning duty. I just hope I don’t end up in shorts.
- Come on, it’ll work out even if we’re approaching a summer island, we shouldn’t be entering its micro climate for a few days.
- Speak for yourself, it’s really cold in the communication room.
With these words, Rockstar laughed softly before finishing to put on his belt and go back to finish his tasks.
On his side, Y/N felt rather uncomfortable. Stockings had never been his thing, especially when he had to work. He was always afraid of damaging them by moving crates or other activities.
Y/N hoped to realize that his lover would not see him dressed like that. Even though his reaction to the black nightgown had strengthened his self-esteem, he was not yet comfortable enough to wear silk underwear regularly.
Living on a pirate ship didn’t help either. Always having to be ready to face an adversary ship and the tasks Daily routines that added to that did not allow for the wearing of fragile clothes.
The day passed rather quickly, punctuated by Lucky coming to admire Y/N and Rockstar in their magnificent stocking. Those who would give themselves to heart, to parade in the ship’s kitchen under the cheers of the cook.
- Next time, you should wear it with extra heels.
- Easy, Lucky, what next time?
Asked Rockstar with a suspicious look.
- Hooo, come on, as a birthday gift. A little parade in mesh and heels.
- Always dream, Lucky. These stockings are so uncomfortable...
Even before Y/N could elaborate, the kitchen door swung wide open, revealing Beckmann with his gaze fixed on a paper in his hand.
- Hey Lucky, you wouldn’t have the inventory from last week....
Beckmann does not finish his sentence because his gaze fell on Y/N, who had not had time to change or get dressed.
At this vision, Beckmann stops dead. Like a statue. Then, turn on his heel.
- Where are you going? Asked Y/N.
- Get some tissues.
- Why?
- Because I know my body.
A second later, Y/N heard Beckmann’s muffled voice
- Ah, there you go.
- I don’t really know what’s happening to him, it’s becoming more and more common for his nose to bleed. I hope he hasn’t broken it.
At these words, Rockstar and Lucky looked at him in surprise.
- hem Y/N, you don’t know what that means.
- Of course not, otherwise I would have helped him.
Y/N darted his gaze at the two teammates who were laughing.
- But anyway, what’s going on here?
Y/N began to get angry. Until Rockstar finally answered him.
- Nothing, nothing, but you should talk about it with Hongo
- Even with Beck directly.
Respond Lucky with a smirk.
This day allowed both to ask some questions and answer some others.
On one side, Y/N was wondering what was happening to Beckmann. On the other hand, Rockstar realized that mesh stockings were his thing, and Shanks allowed him to keep both pairs of the trunk.
Here is part 3, hope you will like it. I will try to post the next part in a few days.
Comment and critique are welcome if you feel so.
By the way i'm also present on AO3 under the same username
By the way, this is a fiction starring Benn Beckmann and his trans masc lover. I’m not myself a trans man but as non-binary person, AFAB. Writing about a trans man makes the most sense for me. If you have any advice or comments, don’t hesitate. Be careful, this story uses Y/N to describe the Reader. Also, English is not my native language, so excuse me for any mistakes.
Plot: The crew of the redhead discovers a chest in a ship after a looting. Chest that is filled with lingerie, which gives ideas to Yasopp, and spice up the relationship between Beckmann and Y/N. (part 2)
Just a ribbon
A few days had passed since the incident of the lingerie chest, which almost everyone had forgotten about. Except for Yasopp, whose mind was turning to all power in order to put his plan into action.
A simple plan that aimed to convince Y/N to wear certain pieces of lingerie. He was convinced that Y/N would be happy in some of these rooms, given how his gaze had softened when he evoked the few pieces he once owned.
Moreover, now that he had the body, he was due at birth, this freedom was well deserved, especially after the last years that had not been tender with their young teammate. At these memories, Yasopp’s face turned to a wince. It was absolutely necessary that his plan did not disrupt his young friend but that he put him at ease.
That is why Yasopp was looking for a way to keep Beckmann away from the plan. Even if Y/N was confident about his gender expression with close friends, he sometimes doubted the reactions of Beck, who in his mind, as a lover, certainly had a different point of view for Y/N.
The opportunity to make his plan happen came one night, when Shanks, Lucky Roux, Y/N and he got together for a poker game.
After several rounds and a few beers, Yasopp finally got started.
- And what if, starting from the next round, we gave a token to the loser?
The idea was quickly approved for the whole group.
After a few parties where Lucky Roux is forced to dance while singing Bink’s no sake. That Shanks had to tell his most embarrassing anecdotes and lost the right to wear his favorite flower pants. Only Yasopp and Y/N will remain without a pledge, but it was quickly Y/N’s turn to lose the game.
- Well, my dear friend, here is your pledge. You go look in the trunk at the lingerie store for a penny and wear it for the rest of the evening. If you can do it, of course.
Yasopp’s mocking look was the trigger.
- You bet.
And Y/N comes back quite quickly dressed with an elegant black negligee over it, a few red ribbons, and above all, a looking far too proud face.
At this sight, Shanks couldn’t help but compliment YN.
- seas, you are handsome, it suits you perfectly.
- Fortunately, the woman from whom the chest was stolen was my size and had a small chest. It looks good on mine too. And since I kept my curves and my height, I am now sexier than all of you together!!
The remark made the small group laughter, and the parties keep chaining up until Lucky Roux decides to leave it at that for the evening.
At these words, the group began to pack up their things, but before Y/N could change his clothes, Beckmann entered the cabin before freezing in place.
The silence fell in the cabin. A very long silence. Before a drop of blood slid from Beckmann’s nose.
Then Shanks, in his eternal delicacy, asked,
- hey mate, are you alright ?
- Yes, I’m good, I just finished my shift, I came to see where Y/N was, before going to bed.
While Beckmann was talking, his gaze did not leave Y/N and other drops of blood slipped from his nose under the amused gaze of Lucky Roux and Yasopp.
This reaction, on the contrary, began to worry YN.
- BECK,
The sniper slowly puts a hand under his nose.
- I’m fine.
- Your nose is bleeding, so no, I think you should go see Hongo.
Beckmann cut Y/N, who was starting to panic.
- This is a perfectly normal physiological reaction.
- To what then?
- I refuse to answer this question.
Behind them, the crew burst out laughing.
Here is part 2, hope you will like it.
I will try to post part 3 in a few days
Comment and critique are welcome if you feel so.
By the way, this is a fiction starring Benn Beckmann and his trans masc lover.
I’m not myself a trans man but as non-binary person, AFAB. Writing about a trans man makes the most sense for me.
If you have any advice or comments, don’t hesitate.
Be careful, this story uses Y/N to describe the Reader. Also, English is not my native language, so excuse me for any mistakes.
Plot: The crew of the redhead discovers a chest in a ship after a looting. Chest that is filled with lingerie, which gives ideas to Yasopp, and spice up the relationship between Beckmann and Y/N.
The abandoned lingerie
During the last looting of a merchant ship, the crew of the Red Force discovered a chest filled not with gold or silver but with clothing.
Women’s clothes.
Nightwear, moreover. Between the dresses and nighties, there were bustiers and lace corsets. But also, stockings in mesh and garter belts.
The only problem is that the crew of Akagamie Shanks was made up solely of men. They did not care about a treasure, that did not pay for the drinks once back at the port.
At first, Shanks thought to give them to Yasopp for Banchina. But the sniper refused heatedly.
- Think about the image I’m going to give her of suddenly coming back with these clothes. I want to spend the night with her, not on the porch.
Once the crew had finished laughing, it was decided to keep them before trying to resell them or find a woman to please.
In the evening, at the traditional banquet hosted by Shanks, Y/N decided to take part in the ongoing debate about underwear.
Surrounded by Yasopp, Lucky Roux, Shanks and enough beer to explain these words, Y/N took off.
- On top of that, you can clearly see that it’s high quality, the lace is sturdy and the embroidery is fine. This woman must have had some serious means. In any case, if they are going to resell themselves for a lot of money, you can trust me.
- Well, someone knows what they’re talking about from what I can see.
Shanks returned with a smile,
- Where do you get to know so much about lingerie?
Y/N blushed brightly before murmuring,
- In my previous life, I had already worn some, I liked it but I hated the image that it reflected from me. I was just a woman in these clothes. So, I abandoned them and never thought about them again.
The 3 powers of the crew of the red hair understood what these words meant. A discreet confession about a part of his life that Y/N had left behind when he boarded the ship.
- But tell me, what would happen now, a man in lingerie? Beck will love it for sure.
Yasopp could not help but add to it in a clumsy attempt to define the subject.
This had the effect of making Y/N even more blush, who had recently started a relationship with the ship’s first mate.
- I don’t know, I think it would make me a bit happy to put on more lingerie from now on. On the body I now have, on the man I become. I am sure it would look good. But Beck is dating me, a man, we haven’t discussed all that much.
The evening continued to be in full swing, so much so that the conversation was quickly forgotten by the small group. Except for Yasopp who, the next day, despite his hangover, had an idea that he found brilliant.
Well, I hope you like it. Don’t forget to comment if you feel so.
I will try to post part 2, the next day or the day after.
I know you do a lot of requests all the time so dont feel pressured at all to do this one. BUT, could I request benn beckman... again... with s/o that's always researching and studying. Whether that be on other pirates, history, language, maps, etc. Like studying with him in the morning or what he'd do when they fall asleep at their desk.
𝙱𝚎𝚗𝚗 𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛: 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚖
The afternoon sun slanted through the porthole, casting long, golden beams across the cabin floor. It was the only time the Red Force was ever relatively quiet—the lull between lunch and dinner where the crew was either nursing a food coma or napping on the deck.
Inside the quarters, the air was hazy with sunlight and the faint, sharp scent of solvent. Benn Beckman sat in his armchair, legs spread, rifle across his lap. He was meticulously cleaning the firing pin, his movements slow and deliberate.
You sat opposite him at your small desk, surrounded by towers of books and loose parchment. You were entirely in your element, eyes wide and bright as you flipped through a logbook you’d "borrowed" from a marine vessel they’d raided three weeks ago.
"…and look at this," you said, tapping a frantic rhythm on the page. "The route they took through the Calm Belt doesn't make sense unless they were using a specialized wind current, one that only exists during the summer monsoon season. It’s completely undocumented in the standard charts."
Benn grunted, his eyes flickering up from his work to watch you. He loved seeing you like this—fueled by intellect and caffeine, weaving together stories the rest of the world couldn't see.
"Standard charts are made by cowards," Benn drawled, running a rag down the barrel of the gun. "They stick to the safe lanes. You’re looking at the paths of the desperate."
"Exactly!" You beamed at him, spinning your chair around to face him properly. "But if this wind current exists, it connects the New World log pose islands in a way that bypasses the Emperor territories entirely. It’s a smuggler's highway, Benn. A forgotten highway."
He paused, setting the rifle down on the side table. He rested his forearms on his knees, looking at you with a heavy-lidded gaze that was affectionate despite its stoicism. "You’re going to redraw the map of the Grand Line from a dusty old logbook?"
"I'm going to try," you corrected stubbornly, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Someone has to. Besides, if we can verify this, it could give the crew a massive advantage."
Benn’s eyes softened. He stood up, walking over to where you sat. He leaned down, bracing his hands on the armrests of your chair, caging you in. The smell of gun oil and tobacco surrounded you, grounding and intoxicating.
"You already give us an advantage," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. He leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, then to the bridge of your nose. "But I love watching you work."
"Benn," you breathed, your cheeks heating up. "I'm in the middle of a breakthrough."
"You’re in the middle of exhausting yourself," he countered gently, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Keep going. I’ll be here."
He straightened up and moved back to his chair, picking up his sidearm to begin cleaning it. The silence that settled between you wasn't empty; it was filled with the quiet comfort of shared presence. You turned back to your work, the scratch of your pen the only sound competing with the click of Benn's gun components.
You lost track of time. The golden light shifted to orange, then deep purple. Your energy began to flag, the adrenaline wearing off to reveal a bone-deep weariness. You tried to push through it, wanting to finish the translation, but the words on the page started to blur.
Benn noticed. He saw the way your head began to droop, the way your pen strokes became sluggish. He watched you fight it for another ten minutes before you finally succumbed.
Your head dropped forward, landing on the open book with a soft thud. Your pen slipped from your fingers and rolled onto the floor.
You didn't stir.
Benn let out a long, soft exhale. He set his pistol down and stood up, walking over to the desk.
"Idiot," he whispered, though there was nothing but love in his tone.
He looked down at you, buried in your work. You were going to wake up with a crick in your neck that would last a week if he left you there. He gently reached out and pried the book out from under your cheek, marking the page with a slip of parchment before closing it.
He didn't wake you. Instead, he reached for the hem of your shirt.
His movements were incredibly gentle, his rough hands handling you like porcelain. He unbuttoned your blouse with practiced ease, sliding it down your arms and tossing it onto the chair. He did the same with your skirt, leaving you in your undergarments.
He went to his dresser and pulled out one of his own shirt. It was huge on you, the fabric worn soft from years of wear.
Once the shirt was on, he lifted you into his arms. You instinctively nuzzled into his neck, your warm breath ghosting against his skin, murmuring something unintelligible about wind currents.
"I know," he whispered, carrying you across the room to the bunk. "You can tell me about it tomorrow."
He laid you down on the mattress, pulling the heavy wool blanket up over your shoulders. He stripped off his own holster and boots, climbing in beside you.
The bed creaked under his weight as he settled in. He immediately pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you. You were warm, soft, and engulfed in his scent. You shifted in your sleep, turning into him, your hand resting on his chest.
Benn let out a contented sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, burying his face in your hair.
"Sleep tight, Professor," he murmured into the dark, his eyes drifting shut. "I've got you."
The ship rocked gently, the sound of the ocean outside the walls lulling you both into a deep, peaceful sleep. The research could wait. Right now, you were exactly where you belonged.
A/N: I'm not sure that's what you wanted @welcome-to-the-grandline but you asked for Beckman, tickles and slight nsfw (nothing toomspucy) so that's what you get 😝 sorry it got rather short
Summary: you made a bet with Beckman during a relaxed evening nothing serious but you lost and now Beckman gets to have you tied up for the rest of the night.
Warnings: tickling, brat taming, slight edging??, "mean" Beckman, multiple orgasms (but only mentioned), no explicit sex described maybe some slight fingering but not much is described, MDNI 🔞⚠️
Characters: Beckman x FReader
You should have known better than to bet against Benn Beckman.
It was supposed to be a simple drinking game, a way to pass the night with the crew gone wild below deck. But here you were now, sitting in Beckman’s private quarters where he told you to wait for him.
Finally the door opened and he stepped in smirking, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
"You lost kitten, you know what that means" he said way too smug for your liking.
"You're mine for the night" he added and you could feel an embarrassing feeling start to form in the pit of your stomach.
He walked over to his dresser where a silken scarf lay on top, your scarf. He grabbed it and you swallowed.
"Shoes off then lay down. Arms up over your head" he ordered calm but firm.
Your body obeyed faster than your mind could catch up. There was something about Beckman, his voice, his presence, that made you feel small in the best way. Precious but fragile. And tonight, already totally owned.
He tied your wrists above your head to the headboard of his fucking bed, sprawled out like some idiot prize he had won. The slow smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told you he was savoring every second.
"You shouldn't have bet against me" Beckman mused, his voice a low, gravelly tease as he hovered above you. He shifted his weight, pinning your hips easily with one hand. You twisted under him, tugging at the scarf, shooting him your best defiant glare.
"I could break out of this if I wanted to," you huffed, bratting on purpose, just to see that glint in his eyes sharpen.
But Beckman just chuckled, a deep, knowing sound that settled heavy in your chest. "Sure you could kitten, but you won't," he drawled, fingers trailing lazily down your side. You stiffened automatically, the ghost of a giggle already catching in your throat.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
And it was exactly what he was waiting for.
"Ahh," he said, sounding downright pleased with himself as he let his fingertips barely skim your sides again, "...so that's it. That’s what you’re hiding."
You jerked instinctively, biting your lip to smother the laugh building inside you. His hand was maddeningly slow, not the frantic tickling you could brace against but a lazy, deliberate tracing, fingertips dancing over your hypersensitive skin.
“You’re ticklish. That’s a weakness I’m going to enjoy.”
Then, suddenly, his fingers flicked to your ribs, precise and merciless, sending a jolt of ticklish agony through you. You couldn’t help but laugh, squirming against the restraint and Beckman smirked.
"You like this, don’t you?" he murmured, low and wicked against your ear.
You shook your head frantically. "N-no—!" You stammered totally a lie.
The sharp tug on your tied wrists cut off your protest, making you gasp. He leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck.
"Liar."
He shifted his hand, and without warning, his fingers pressed into your side. Sharp, focused tickles that made you jolt and squeal. You tried to twist away, but there was nowhere to go.
“Still trying to resist?” His tone was way too amused. “You’re not very good at hiding your reactions, kitten.”
Another flick of his fingers, this time right under your ribs right at that horrible ticklish spot and you shuddered, laughing helplessly, cheeks flushed, breath shallow. Beckman chuckled softly, shaking his head.
“I thought you were tougher than this,” he drawled. “But maybe you like being vulnerable. Maybe you like being tied up. Maybe you like being helpless and at my mercy while I take my time.”
Beckman’s hand slid to your hip, squeezing before dragging his fingertips lightly along the curve. You broke, a breathless laugh escaping before you could stop it. His smirk deepened, and his free hand dipped lower, brushing teasingly across the top of your thigh.
"You get all squirmy and sweet when I do this," he murmured, punctuating it by spidering his fingers mercilessly over your exposed skin. "Bet if I kept this up long enough, you’d be begging for me to touch you somewhere else."
You twisted and writhed beneath him, but the bonds, and his weight, made escape impossible. Every drag of his fingers felt like fire, equal parts maddening and addictive. The way he played with you, testing your limits, pulling laughter and moans in the same breath. It made your head spin.
"You want to be a brat, kitten?" he growled against your skin, his voice dipping darker now, rougher. "Then you're gonna take whatever I give you... and you're gonna say thank you."
And the way his hands moved, roaming from ticklish torment to slow, deliberate touches, grazing places that made your body jolt for a very different reason, made it very clear....Beckman had no plans to let you off easy.
His fingers drifted to your ankle, then down to the sole of your foot and you tensed immediately. His thumb pressed into your arch slowly, methodically just enough pressure to make you twitch.
“Bad spot huh?” he asked teasingly, eyes locked on yours. “Seems you're in trouble now.”
You squirmed under his gaze, toes curling as he traced your sole, dragging out every reaction from your tightly bound body. And you squealed and squirmed with laughter.
"Beck-waihht-noohot-faihhr," you squealed.
"Not fair? I think it is fair, you lost the bet kitten you knew you were in for some trouble when you agreed to it" he teased not ceasing the torment on your soles.
"Besides I don't think you hate it as much as you pretend to," he teased while one hand tracedbetween your kegs very close to your core.
Damn him because truth was you really didn't know if you wanted him to stop anymore. His hands on you the feeling of his calloused skin, being so torturous yet also so intoxicating was arousing you and you knew it was just a matter of time till he felt how wet you already were.
Your body arched helplessly against him, laughter and broken whimpers spilling from your lips as Beckman kept his relentless, teasing assault going, tracing the most sensitive parts of you with infuriating patience. His fingers grazed your feet, your waist, your ribs, the inside of your thighs, every touch light enough to drive you insane, to make the know in your stomach grow and to increase your heart rateand that not just from laughter.
"Look at you," he rumbled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "A beautiful laughing and gasping mess."
The way he said it sent a fresh shudder rolling through you.
His hand snaked down to your foot again, teasing it with slow deliberate strokes.
You flinched and burst into laughter as the tickling returned brief, sharp, unrelenting. You couldn’t escape and you knew he loved it.
You struggled again, pulling against the scarf at your wrists, but all it did was make the material dig in slightly, the slight bite of it grounding you even more.
"You wanna brat again, kitten?" Beckman growled in your ear before biting down on your earlobe tugging slightly at it. "Go ahead. Fight all you want. It's cute but it won’t save you. The more you laugh, the harder I’m gonna fuck you. So go ahead. Laugh."
His fingers slid up your sides again and this time, there was no mercy. The tickling was rougher, firmer. He knew every spot now and he used it ruthlessly — ribs, waist, feet, belly, hips — digging in until you were howling with laughter, twitching helplessly, gasping for breath.
You were laughing too hard, tears slipping from your eyes, every muscle tensed from the overstimulation. His lips pressed to your ear again. “You earned this,” he murmered but this time he kissed the shell of your ear almost lovingly which only made everything worse or better you didn't know anymore.
He shifted slightly, sliding a thigh between yours, forcing your legs apart. His hand dragged down your stomach, slow, deliberate, fingertips ghosting maddeningly across your inner thigh, close enough to make you whimper, but never giving you what you wanted.
Your hips jerked up instinctively, chasing him. His hand snapped out, gripping your hip in a bruising hold, forcing you flat again.
"Ah, ah," he murmured, his tone mock-scolding. "Bad thing. You're not cuming until I say you can."
You whimpered half from frustration, half from the overwhelming heat pooling low in your belly. Every nerve felt like it was on fire. The combination of tickling torment, the feel of his hands on you and restrained desire had you dizzy, mindless.
You were gasping, chest heaving, muscles sore from squirming. Your laughter had faded into ragged whimpers, body limp under Beckman’s slow, brutal precision. The air between you was thick. Hot with your need, cold with his calm restraint.
Beckman leaned down, his mouth brushing your neck jurning against your skin. "I could keep you like this all night," he murmured. "Tied up, shaking, desperate. Laughing yourself hoarse while I play with you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?" He asked biting the sensitive skin of your neck making you gasp and shudder.
His free hand slid lower, fingers teasing at the edge of your waistband. His breath was ragged now too, rough with barely restrained hunger.
"You gonna beg for it now?" he demanded, voice a low snarl against your throat. "Or do I have to tickle it out of you?"
Your body trembled, caught between unbearable need and the sheer impossibility of speaking.
Beckman chuckled darkly at your silence. "That’s what I thought."
And then his mouth was on you, claiming, devouring, hands roaming over you with rough, possessive intent. Every kiss, every nip of his teeth against your flushed skin was a brand. His dominance, once lazy and teasing, was now all-consuming.
"You're mine tonight. Every laugh, every gasp, every fucking moan, mine," he growled.
You were wrecked, gasping, laughing, moaning, utterly at his mercy.
Exactly where he wanted you.
And he wasn’t even close to being finished with you.
"You want to cum? Then beg. Beg pretty for me to take you" he whispered dangerously while his lips hovered just inches from yours while one hand slipped under the waistband of your underwear the other lightly tickling up and down your side.
"Pl—ease Be—eck, I—I wa—ant you, ple—ease" you begged between sharp inhales and moans mixed with soft giggles.
"That's it, kitten. Now let me hear you laugh and moan and beg will I fuck you dumb" he groaned with a devilish smirk as you heard him unbuckle his belt, your heart racing in anticipation.
Before you could process it he had you stripped, maning you gasp as the air kissed your bare skin but there was no feeling of cold. Your body was too much in need, too flushed and the heat between your legs seemed to make everything feel like you were burning up.
His hands teased your skin, your nipples were pinched and rolled even given an occasional tickle before his fingertips traced maddeningly down your side halting at your hips to give them a squeeze that made you buck up towards him and he grinned.
His mouth descended down to your neck biting, licking and kissing it till you were a shivering, moaning and giggling mess once more before you felt one of his fingers trace over your soaked folds.
"So wet for me, I knew you liked this kitten. And you'll like what's coming next even more trust me" he rasped his own hunger no longer hidden as he pushed one finger than two into you and you let out a moan you were surecould be heard even outside the room.
"Keep making those little sounds for me,tell me how much you want me" he mused before giving you a bruising kiss.
"Pl—ease Beck" you mumbled into the kiss and you felt him smirk before he replaced his fingers inside you with his cock, making you moan into the kiss.
And with that he took you — more than once — leaving you atrembling, laughing, crying and moaning mess.
After completely breaking you down Beckman untied you gently, cradling you, to his chest brushing your hair out of your face before his hands gently and lovingly traced over your sore skin.
"So damn perfect. Gonna take care of you now, sweetheart," he whispered before shifting and kissing your skin, every spot he tormented from head to toe was showered with loving kisses and soothing touches from his hands and lips worshipping every inch of you like you were the One Piece.
"I love you my perfect, sensitive little kitten" he finally said voice a little teasing before he kissed you deeply and letting yourself melt completely into him, making it clear that he wouldn't let go of you. And you had never felt so this safe with someone else and deep down you didn't regret losing the bet.
Taglist: @jintaka-hane @fleetadmiralsoffice @hakiofdreams @welcome-to-the-grandline @sailing-to-laugh-tale @legends-of-the-grandline @devilfruitdiaries @waannty @luna-the-moon-guardian (once again I'm just reminding you that if you want me to stop tagging you please tell me or if someone wants to get added)
Content: Benn Beckman Fluff. She/Her Reader. Loosely based on a request.
————— ୨୧ —————
Benn had long grown past lamenting about the unfairnesses bestowed upon him by the whims of life. He accepted that whining did little to change his own circumstances. Only action could improve Benn’s life, Shanks had taught him that. And yet he found himself stuck in place, sturdy boots sealed to the wooden dock. His eyes tracked the Red Haired Pirates newest crew member, in a way that he hoped was casual. It certainly wasn’t.
Benn’s crewmates, friends he’d known for two decades, scoffed at the way in which the large man attempted to rest against a stack of wooden crates. Later they would remark about the way Benn looked more like an adolescent giraffe than the imposing first mate of an Emperor. Much to Benn’s horror he would find out that what he had hoped was an innocent glance toward (Name) ever so often, in actuality was nearly a sickened stare.
Not the most flattering first introduction certainly, but sickened was not the wrong word to use. Watching her determined face as she helped load the Red Force with supplies, made Benn’s stomach turn. He’d experienced butterflies before of course he had, but the nauseated sensation always took him by surprise. Why was love something so awkward and uncomfortable in its infancy? Why couldn’t he shake off these feelings? He was practically an old man at this point, the simpering boyhood crushes were beyond him. They should’ve been beyond him.
Clearly they were not.
(Name)’s appearance with the crew was not a surprise to Benn, as he had met her many times before being brought into the fold. Now that she was a regular person in his life, (Name) began to worm her way into his heart. The sly grin she sported when getting into a bit of mischief, or the way she enjoyed a cup of tea in the quietness of the morning filled Benn’s mind. The firmness in which she faced danger was admirable. (Name) always held herself with such dignity despite the fact that the captain was a near infinitely powerful entity. That never caused her to turn away from a fight or slack off in her training. Benn appreciated that, appreciated (Name).
With a puffed sigh, Benn reaffixed his hair into its tie. He walked toward (Name), his heart squeezing in his chest and offer of help in his throat. A boyish crush would be fine if the reward was a simple smile and a conversation.
