This fanfiction is NSFW and made for mature audiences, and is not suitable for those under 18 years of age, even if all material is pure fiction.
00: Dracule Mihawk had taken your life. He thrust your body into a raging sea of flame, spitting up the taste for all things sex and sanguine into your veins and laying demonic whispers unto your tongue. In a holy sanctuary, he called out to the night, and the two of you were branded vampires. But, he left you lying there. And being alone with amnesia and your own darkness and pain, you shouted and chose to try and taint the world— only getting yourself hurt once more. As you awake after your hundreds of years of sleep, you struggle with the changed world and can only helplessly seek out Mihawk himself, hoping to avenge yourself by devouring him. This journey will not be an easy one, and there's no telling what you'll encounter on the path to decay.
In this work there are explicit sexual themes and scenes, cannibalism, vampirism, religious themes, and various other dark topics. It is important to note that the inclusion of these subjects does not mean they are tolerated at all in real life, and it does not mean that every taboo subject will automatically be included in this work of fiction.
Take a bite...
Meal Plan.
1) Nico Robin, a human archaeologist affiliated with the Adventurer's Guild, smarter than you're willing to give credit for.
2) Vinsmoke Sanji, a foolish runaway prince with a heart far too soft for this world.
3) Portgas D. Ace, an easygoing yet infuriating werewolf with particular tastes.
4) Silvers Rayleigh, the laidback Guildmaster with a colorful past that knows far too much than he is letting on.
5) Shakuyaku, a mysterious woman who insists you call her "Shakky", bearing a breathtaking beauty.
6) Nami, the fashionable woman who loves picking pockets and locks just as much.
7) Shanks, a famous and well traveled adventurer well versed in combat and people pleasing.
8) Benn Beckman, a well-known adventurer who has been at Shanks' side for the better part of two decades.
9) Roronoa Zoro, a vampire hunter seeking to take the heads of every last one of you— for coin, of course
10) Usopp, the cowardly elf that left his grove in search for his father, aiming to become a brave adventurer.
11) Donquixote Doflamingo, an incubus in disguise as a noble, seeking to manipulate the current emperor and take the throne for himself.
12) Trafalgar D. Water Law, a young doctor interested in unconventional research subjects.
13) Dracule Mihawk, a vampire.
Some love interests will appear in later chapters and will consequently have a longer wait!
Guide...
00: PROLOGUE, "Why Do You Bite?" (Posted, linked.)
??: INTERLUDE, a dream.
01: CHAPTER 1, "Killing My Dreams."
02: CHAPTER 2, "CH2"
03: CHAPTER 3, "CH3"
04: CHAPTER 4, "CH4"
More to come...
CONTENT INCLUDED/WARNINGS:
These are the main components of the story, but content warnings will be added at the beginning of each chapter.
*Subject to change since this is a WIP.
**Rape/non-con won't be added.
EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. Gore, Cannibalism, Violence, Profanity.
Kink Content:
Dom/Sub Dynamics, Pain-related kinks, more to be seen...
!! Updates are not done at a set schedule and may be infrequent. !!
A/N 1: This work is a rewriting of a previous series I was working on, redone to be a bit "darker" but not entirely depressing. I changed a few story elements, will still retain some light and comedic elements and have made it 10000% more kinky. I don't normally write dark stories and decided that now is the time to work on my skills, I also just wanted to make sure there's more kink content here.🌝 I will 1000% change the layout later on.
Edited June 6th, added "Kink Content" section beneath warnings.
Hello UTI Warrior can I have a song recommendation if you so please. It's raining ice and I listen to any and every genre of music, but no lullabies because I'll fall aslee 😴😴😴
Jk. I use this as an alarm to remind me to post on wednesdays. Hmmm.. I guess..
Synopsis... Unable to resist the temptation of an internet argument, you accidentally end up dooming yourself by responding to "FireFist." Now, he's obsessed with pissing you off.
Warnings... There are crude comments and remarks, profanity, internet harassment, ... Be advised of this as you read!
A/N: I know there was a super long wait but surprise surprise i have gotten rather busy and straight up forgot to post this...
Everyone knows the internet is dreadful at times with differing opinions and hateful comments towards one another, some people trying to turn themselves into the embodiment of peace and happiness on their social media pages despite being the literal incarnation of evil… Now, you won’t try and say you’re all sunshine and rainbows, but maybe you get a little defensive when it comes to the things you like, and that may or may not lead to a few arguments in comment sections. Which is exactly your current predicament.
The notification wall on your phone's lock screen displayed one notification from Instagram. There was no doubt in your head that it was the guy who had become the reason for your most recent internet argument.
FireFist replied to your comment: “ dont care, didnt ask. “
Three tips for dealing with internet trolls, and you managed to break the most important one. Everyone says not to engage but you can’t resist the temptation, and that is a bad habit you’re eager to break; but it can also wait for another year or two. Naturally, your anger gets the best of you over an Instagram comment, and you click on his profile again to see if there’s something to use against him. Unfortunately for you, his account is private, and he has five followers, so there is zero chance of you sneaking in even, on a burner account. Just your luck, you had no fuel for your fire besides the fact that “FireFist” had terrible opinions regarding music, and his username sounded like a shitty porno. Despite that, you began to type away, forgetting whatever it is you were doing to try and come up with a comeback.
You replied to FireFist’s comment: “then why r u still responding lol thats sad.”
Not even a minute later, his reply lit up your phone screen.
FireFist replied to your comment: “i can say the same for you LMAOO u want me so bad!!”
Okay, they are just trying to rile you up. And unfortunately for you it was in fact working alarmingly easily.
You replied to FireFist’s comment: “i wouldnt touch u with a 10ft pole, ur probably infectious”
He replied quickly that time, too.
FireFist replied to your comment: “sounds like u rllyy wanna touch me bcz u keep responding to me… its ok to say u want me”
The asshole twisted your words. Do you get defensive, insult him more, or block him? Blocking people is for pussies, and that definitely makes you a hypocrite because you have blocked so many people you reached the limit more than once, but you feel such intense hatred for this internet stranger today that you don’t want to block them. For a while, you try to figure out what to say back without sounding too offended… Ultimately, it's a losing battle, and you can’t figure out where to go from here. Your heart is racing and you feel anxious but you don’t stop to think about why you’re doing things like this despite the reactions they give you.
Then, your screen lights up again. Moving slow as a snail, your hand shaking from anxiety picks up your phone. Yes, it was who you’d expect.
FireFist replied to your comment: “don't be shy, im open minded ;)”
That sets you off. Really bad. Clenching your jaw uncomfortably tight, your hand clicks on his profile, then the three dots in the corner. There, that bright red text greets you.
Block.
Are you sure you want to block FireFist? They won’t be able to…
After seeing that text a thousand times over, you just don’t care anymore. You blocked him, and you aren’t expecting anymore of his odd messages anytime soon. Simmering in anger alone in your bedroom, you’re interrupted by a knock on your bedroom door. It’s probably your roommate, Franky. He’s an eccentric guy with electric blue dyed hair that he styles differently every other week, a ridiculous amount of confidence in himself, and that’s not even mentioning his weird obsession with cyborgs. You are sure in another life Franky is living out his cyborg dreams, still having his outbursts of energy.
“Y/N! Wanna come to the pet store with me? I gotta get a new filter for Jinbe!” Franky yells obnoxiously loud through your door. Jinbe, his pet fish who he swears has the spirit of a whale shark, but to be fair, that fish is pretty badass.
“Sure! Let me get dressed!” You yell back, tumbling out of bed towards your dresser. Your phone can wait! All you need now is to throw on a little something that won’t make you look like you have a bleak life.
“Hm? Were you cooking? The smoke alarm is going off!” Nonchalant as ever, Franky gently pushes open your bedroom door. Wait, why is he holding Jinbe’s tank in his hands? Disregarding his question you stupidly focus on the most irrelevant thing, before your eyes widen in shock. Without an utterance of any words, a string of noises escapes your mouth.You throw yourself out the door, dashing towards the kitchen. Okay, fixing your temper is now number one on the bucket-list, if it allows you to make a mistake this big then maybe it’s a problem.
And with that, you manage to subject yourself to a few months of signature Franky-style teasing. The whole situation is so absurd, even you have trouble trying to wrap your head around why you got so worked up… Looking over at your roommate on the couch next to you, something tells you that he's about to offer some clarity.
“Y’know… You spend a little too much time online. Seriously, you have no idea how many angry DM’s I get from people you argued with in a comment section or whatever. Kinda tiring.”
Franky blurted out loud, cleaning the salt from his chips off of his fingers with an obnoxious sucking noise as the loud crack of a can of cola follows along. It had become a sort of biweekly tradition for you and Franky to sit on the couch and put on some sketchy movies which if the law asks, you legally acquired. Despite him having literally no reason to, he took you in when reality hit you right in your soul upon moving to this town; Franky even invites you places and offers to buy you things when you’re short on cash. He does still annoy you, but it’s in more of an older brother way instead of the way a regular old roommate would.
“There’s no room for you to critique me. I haven’t seen you drink a drop of water since we started living together four years ago.” A rather extensive sigh highlights your softened speaking voice, though only Franky picks up the dash of sarcasm found in your words. He always ends up parroting words and promises you utter to yourself, it’s annoying but you guess he’s just gotten to know you excessively well. You don’t really like being told what to do anyways.
“Hey! That’s a completely separate matter! I am my own person. But–...” Tapping his chin, Franky licks salt from the corner of his mouth after he trails off for a moment. The blue light from the T.V screen makes his hair look luminescent in a silly way and that’s all you can focus on.
“I have seniority over you. I showed you the not-so-local scene, hidden gems, and I let you stay with me dirt cheap! I also know that I’m practically your only friend. Maybe listen a little, because sometimes I worry about you like my own family.”
Well, he’s got you there. You have definitely neglected your social life— yourself in general. After turning eighteen you bought a lottery ticket, won a decently sized prize; realized that you didn’t wanna live with your parents forever— and following the scent of freedom you landed yourself in this stupid town with a significantly less amount of money, and barely a plan. Eighteen is still very much teenaged, so you thought you would maybe be able to work things out after only having maybe $400 left and the brand-new car you got with your lottery money… No apartment lined up, not thinking of the fact you would have to buy furniture or get a job, just living off the adrenaline rush that came with a change of scenery. It’ll be four years since you moved here in a month or two, and sometimes your life feels just as messy at times.
Looking over at Franky you feel eternally grateful, he would laugh if you ever told him something like that to his face, so you keep emotional words to yourself. With a permissive nod, Franky settles back onto the couch and stares right at you.
“I know you're technically an adult, but I can't forget the eighteen-year-old girl I saw sulking in the streets. It's fine if you wanna be introverted, but you don't go outside if you aren't shopping or going places with me. Plus, being angry at internet strangers is terrible for your mental health. I’m not super into these corny talks, just try and do something without being mad all the time. Start a blog, take up video gaming, things like that.”
Franky leaves you with his words of rare wisdom, he turns the volume up on TV without looking back in your direction. Taking his advice into consideration, you tune out the noises coming from the television and start reevaluating the choices that have led you to this point.
Pros; you got Franky and a cheap place to stay that isn't a total shit hole.
And the cons… It's best if you ignore them for now, you'll end up on a downward spiral, and not the good Nine Inch Nails album kind of downward spiral.
There's barely any luck when you try to make small talk with the cashier at your local supermarket, and online 90% of the time whenever you voice your opinions it makes somebody angry— the other 10% is when you're upset with someone else's opinion... When you put things like that you start to wonder if you're the problem. Socializing without Franky would be the first step towards becoming a better you! Starting off small is the key to success in your case.
“Okay, now let's just relax and forget all about my blog. Gotta wait for some likes… But I guess here they're called hits.”
Closing your laptop, you sit back in bed. There's an odd rush of adrenaline running through your veins, something's telling you that this is going to be a success. Here you're going to make some cool mutuals, engage in friendly conversation, and hopefully if someone thinks highly enough of you— you’ll get yourself a fan. That's wishful thinking, though. If things go sour you have to abandon this platform forever. The moment you get comfortable and reach for your phone, a soft knock sounds at your door, and you already know it's one of the only people you maintain a relationship with and live with.
“Y/N? Just wanted to make sure I didn't overstep earlier. I know you've never had an issue with it before, but I tend to overthink. You also know that. Tell me you aren't upset so I can post Jinbe on my story with a clear mind.”
Without even seeing him, you can tell by his voice that he's got his face pressed against your door.
“I’m not!” You shout aloud, getting back into a comfortable position.
“Are you sure?”
“...I’m sure.”
“Okay, but are you sure that you're sure?”
“Rest assured I’m not upset with you in any way or manner, Franky.”
“...Alright, but are you confident?”
He's doing the thing again. Angrily, you walk towards your door and fling it open— but Franky is already scurrying to his room, giggling along the way. His joy is infectious, and you forget about your worries and previous annoyances. Today was productive enough in your book; Franky made some burgers on the grill earlier and invited a few of his more sociable and interesting friends, mentioning how bummed he was that some girl… Whatever her name was, couldn't come over. Even if they weren't there for you it was still nice to have a few laughs with new faces. Then you got in some sun and just let your thoughts drift away; until the creation of your blog, which is still in the densely populated space of your brain.
You forgot all about it until you were dressed up the next morning, scurrying to open your laptop in a daze. More anxious than ever, the color blue highlighting the numbers over your notification's inbox reading “99+” damn near killed you. You move your mouse over to your profile picture in the corner, and check out your post, a simple photo of your outfit with less accessories than usual.
800 hits total. 12 comments. 46 reposts. And your post was added to a few collections, you'd say maybe 20 people did so. That leaves 722 likes.
Something tells you to check the comments, and after skimming through them, you're comforted when you see nothing negative. You felt comfortable saying this since he hopefully wasn't omniscient, but you're glad you didn't see that FireFist dude in your notifications. Honestly you can't even explain to yourself why he came up just now, but he did. He pissed you off a great deal, so it's valid you're still thinking of him. The positive comments distract you more than that asshole does, though. Starting from the top you begin to read.
NamiLuvsMoney: “def not my style but super cute <3”
When you checked her profile, you saw that she seemed to have amassed a large fan base doing the same as you. That wasn't even mentioning how beautiful she was in her profile picture, so much so that you followed her immediately after verifying it was really her of course. Your eyes move on to the next comment.
SuuperCyborg: “i need my belt back”
It's Franky, you nearly forgot you gave him your blog handle. He doesn't post much but he has an introduction on his page, you follow him after giggling at the familiar profile picture which was the same on each social media page of his. It was the one a show photographer took of him spraying cola everywhere with his hair in a huge Mohawk, there's a few of his friends whom you barely remember holding him up and laughing. It makes you want to go to a punk show with him.
The next comment is just a thumbs up emoji, and the person who commented has no profile picture set. Checking their profile, they only seem to repost historical things. You block them under the assumption bot interactions will mess with your blog's engagement, you did so well on this first post, and you don't wanna ruin that. Goodbye to the blog titled “Bookmark”, it's a stupid name for a blog but FireFist is worse.
SaDbo: “this outfit reminds me of my little brothers friend. he's pretty kickass and I kinda want his closet, but his eyes are intimidating sometimes. i think you wear it better 👀”
Oh, you've made it. After scanning his profile obsessively, your ego experiences a massive increase. This hottie complimented your outfit. This gorgeous blonde man? Stay calm, racing heart. When you dig a little more you see that he reposts a bit of everything, and you find yourself a little curious about him. Any sane person would follow him. Anybody. Franky would give you a round of applause right about now.
The page suddenly refreshes on its own, and there you see it now placed at the top of the column of comments.
FireFist: “i see you!"
FireFist: “did ya miss me?”
His comments were immediately deleted, but apparently this website didn't allow you to block people on new accounts, so you decided to send this guy a DM in hopes of maybe getting him to fuck off. Preparing an angry DM you try not to sound too aggressive to risk your following of 78 people, which is still pretty impressive if you do say so yourself. Enough about you, more about your aggressor.
“this is really creepy of you to do”
On the other side of the screen, you like to think this guy is old and greasy, maybe even divorced or something. Again, his profile is bare. Nothing at all, just a black profile picture.
“you're the one playing hard to get babe”
His response came quickly, like he was waiting for you to message him. When you read his message and see he called you “babe” that makes you think it would be for the best if he wasn't an old man. This wasn't your first time being harassed online, but this was the first time someone found an account with an entirely different email address linked to it, not to mention there was no indication that it was you. Every other profile is bare, besides your close friends' stories.
“youre harassing me???? on the internet? do you have any hobbies? no sane person has this much free time”
“how did you even find me, my user is completely different” This bizarre situation is gonna leave you with long lasting paranoia regarding social media. Three dots pop up and fade in and out in the bottom corner of your chat, showing that FireFist is now typing.
“yah i knew you would have a fuckass handle like this bcz wtf does this even mean”
Is your handle really that cringe? The essence of social media is that you can do things with less cares than usual, so you begin to think letting your imagination run wild and ironically choosing your username was a mistake. Does everyone know its satirical?
“youre one to talk, FireFist”
Another message of yours trails behind. The typing begins, but then it stops. And it doesn't pick back up after that. You refresh the page over and over whilst not even blinking, itching for a response so you can say something else without seeming obsessed— but it never comes. Guess that's the end of it.
At least that's what you thought at the time. Fifteen minutes later is when it happened.
“Y/N! Who the hell is FireFist?!” Franky’s yelling is close, and then your door swings open with such force, the brass doorknob comes crashing into your drywall at record speeds. When the door lightly swings back and forth and lets out of the wall, there's a circular hole from where the doorknob made contact.Damn this shitty house and its fragile walls. To make matters worse; when you look up at Franky he seems angry.
“Shit. Did he do something?” Your anxiety is killing you to the point you barely manage to speak to Franky. Is it wrong to think that this is kind of scary? It's just some dude online, but he's everywhere now. That means the chances of seeing him in real life are slim… You think.
“Something? Did he do something?” Franky hangs his head, his hand gripping the side of the door while he seethes in his anger.
“He trashed my base in Cyborg Utopia! Uh, why are you so nervous anyways?” Then comes Franky’s dramatic outburst, and suddenly the tension in the air dissipates a bit. But you can't shake the feeling that this isn't the last instance of him popping up places.
“Huh? Oh, well— er…”
Maybe you shouldn't worry Franky. He would probably end up embarrassing you by making a few thousand angry posts about him if you told him you had a new internet… Stalker? FireFist falls into that category you suppose. You choose to keep quiet about it all. Franky looks at you expectantly, but you just shake your head. Don't worry about it. His eyes betray him and showcase his momentary worry as he walks away, shutting your door softly.
Wait a second.
“Hey! My wall, asshole!” You scream and stand up, shouting closer to the door so Franky could hear you a little louder.
“Not my problem!” Franky yells back even louder than you. The slamming of the front door is heard all the way from your room, followed by the sound of your roommates' noisy, beat up motorcycle speeding off. It's almost twelve in the morning, and he's off again.
Fuck, the week isn't even over. A stalker, a hole in your wall, and an odd sense of loneliness. You do still need friends, after all.
Pairing... Portgas D. Ace x Alternative! F! Reader.
Posted... February 26th, 2025.
Summary... One day, you meet someone who goes by "FireFist" online, at first you were arguing over something stupid in someone's comment section while thinking nothing of it— you wouldn't meet this mystery user again, right? All is forgotten for a few months, all the way up until you start a fashion blog, and here comes FireFist. After your first meeting, your roommate Franky basically gives you an ultimatum: confront your anxiety, stop being so chronically online, and make some friends! But with FireFist around, a seemingly straightforward journey spirals into semi-chaos.
Contains... Slowburn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, sexual imagery, descriptions of violence, mentions of fictional gore, and suggestive dialogue. Mentions of stalking, drugs and alcohol upon various other substances, and participation in addictive substances. Offensive jokes regarding self-harm and suicidal thoughts, including mentions of them in some chapters. There will be sexual content, please be advised when you read later chapters!
Chapters...
(1) ,, Who the hell is FireFist?! ''
Unable to resist the temptation of an internet argument, you accidentally end up dooming yourself by responding to "FireFist."
(2) ,, True Romance. ''
"FireFist" has become but a whisper in the wind, your life continues as normal... You'd think. One thing leads to another, you meet an Internet friend by chance at a party Franky forced you to go to, and more new people.
(3) ,, Suck It Up. ''
info...
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(Credits to "saradika-graphics" for the cute dividers! Please consider checking out her blog, she also writes!)
A/N: i aim to please myself mainly with this, if it's not your style then thats perfectly fine! I will be uploading chapters at my own pace. (some stuff revised 04/04.)
Pairing: Platonic(?)Benn Beckman x F! Reader, Platonic! Shanks x F! Reader.
Synopsis... Driving home a drunk and heartbroken Shanks.
Contains... Modern AU! Shanks x Buggy breakup (again), non-canon behaviors, not proofread!
A/N: this idea has been in my head for a while, and i wrote this some time ago, but didn't share it until now! its short, and i hope it was at least a little sweet!
For a moment, there's nothing but the soft humming of the car's engine, the jingling of keys, and the sound of shoes scuffing against the concrete and curb, tripping over themselves and anything else. A loud grunt resounds in the empty parking lot, and then your laugh follows afterwards.
“Do we really have to pick your grown ass up every damn time you get too drunk? Doesn't that clown…” Beckman’s grumbling becomes an audible sentence, before he catches himself saying something that would definitely worsen the situation. But, he caught himself a bit too late, and he can only whisper a quiet “damn it” before Shanks speaks of that clown in question.
“BUGGY! God, why?!”
Eyes locking in a stare with Beckman’s, flashing a knowing look, your eyes squint as you sigh and open the door leading into the backseat of the silver SUV, promptly shoving Shanks into the car and slamming the door afterwards.
“Come on, Beck. You know Buggy dumped him. Why do you think he's drunk off his ass again?”
Shanks sobs louder, curling into a ball as his tears fall onto Beckman’s leather seats he's so proud of. Beckman sighs and opens the driver's side door, staring down at the steering wheel before he looks back to meet your gaze.
“Jus’ saying! They break up every other month. You know this. I had more stable relationships in middle school.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a loose cigarette he was forced to put away about ten minutes earlier— around when he needed to stop Shanks from stumbling into oncoming traffic during your walk to the car, which of course required two hands.
“Shanks loves him. They love each other, just be patient! They’ll be married in no time, watch.” You can't help but feel like the road to their marriage might be a little bumpier, when you see Shanks clutching a photo from his senior year’s prom— to which Buggy was his date.
“Why won't he come back?!” Shanks screeches, curling into himself once more, thrashing in the seats.
“Yeah, I'm not looking forward to him scratching at the door like a stray begging to sleep on the couch because he and Buggy got into an argument.” Beckman exhales, smoke escaping his lips. He turns back to the inside of the car, before pulling himself inside just about as slow as he could, savoring the time spent outside. You head to the passengers side, sighing as you mentally prepare yourself for the ride home.
The drive is almost as loud as a concert, with Shanks’ non-stop crying and Beckman's yelling, then you yelling at Beckman to go easier on Shanks, plus the radio station which was, of course, the newest Soul King. Beckman couldn't even enjoy that.
Shanks quiets down to just sniffles, before he wipes his teary eyes and stares straight at the back of Beckman's head.
“Can we go get food? I’m hungry—” Shanks pouted, pleading with Beckman.
Shanks then proceeded to projectile vomit everywhere, including all over the back of Beckman’s neck, and some managed to splash on your hands. The leather seats were ruined. And even worse, you all ran into Buggy at the gas station while you desperately tried to find anything Shanks could eat, and let's just say that wasn't pretty.
Beckman hates giving Shanks rides, and he never forgets why. But you, despite Beckman reminding you of all the times Shanks made a mess of your couch or his car, always insisted you give poor Shanks a ride.
100 followers! Thank you for everybody who has supported me so far, it means a lot, especially my mutuals!
Sorry for yapping but THESE THREE have made me feel like I can continue writing, I breathe a sigh of relief whenever they like my posts/interact with them, @eand47 , @guillotine-enjoyer , and @beansluvsmilo (sorry if I left anyone out, it's VERY late here and I'm tired 😢)
Lots of love to those who might be reading this !! 💕
