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strawhatsoraya · 11 months

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u thot i was finished?? guess again 🥰️ alright, this time i'm requesting luffy (bc i can't believe i never asked u for this before) and the prompts: popsicle & ❛show me how much you missed me❜; just some upcoming summer vibez, yk <3 the luffy agenda must be spread!!!

you incorrigible nasty woman *does her best trump impression* nasty nasty woman the nastiest in the history of nasty woman.

it's ok i love you this way.

it IS summer so this will be my first official summer fic of 2023. woop woop. SUMMER OF SMUT should totes be like a thing, you know? like kinktober? i'm just sayin'. anyway I can't believe I haven't written Luffy smut before so here we go. you asked for popsicle so I feel like a one trick pony rn so please forgive me but that's how things ended up.

(also if that's boricua luffy that you think you see, you see correctly i like to push my own agenda sometimes)

LUFFY X FEM READER / NSFW WC: 3.5k of foolishness CW: luffy likes his lil pet names, also he likes popsicles, food play, messy messy, oral, there's a mouth, and there's a popsicle, and there's a cock, idk you do the math, luffy being a lil shit but we love him SUMMARY: Modern AU / Luffy stays at Sabo's for a week to help him study for his finals (he is a freshman in College/Uni), and when he comes back home Y/N wants to show him just badly she missed him.

Summer was eternal on the island.

The sun, unforgiving and tempestuous, hung high in the azure blue sky. At the moment the clouds were sparse but when you live in a tropical environment, it is only a matter of time before rain clouds make an impromptu appearance.

It doesn’t matter to you; however. Not today.

Whether it stormed, whether the wind blew violently, or not you weren’t moving from your spot.

You hadn’t seen Luffy in a few weeks, and you were dying to hold him in your arms. It wasn’t something you wanted to admit out loud; however. You sit on the hammock you both set up together, in between two palm trees in the backyard of his house. It’s a hot summer day. Sweat already pills on your forehead, and on your nose. You wipe at it with the back of your hand. It was fortunate that the trees shielded you from most of the sun’s rays, otherwise it would be absolutely intolerable to wait for Luffy any longer.

You hear him before you see him. His laughter was bright and melodic. There’s a familiar slapping of sandals that is recognizable. Luffy had a bad habit of stomping as he walked. You turn your torso to look over your shoulder. He makes a grand appearance through the back door, no shirt–all big sunshine smiles and glistening brown skin. The wind picks up and brings over to you the scent of his favorite shampoo, behind it, you also get a very brief whiff of sunblock.

He never wore much on his pretty face, but you had nagged him enough to finally succumb.

“Hi,” you greet him, feeling inexplicably shy as he stomps towards you, his arms spread out wide. When he finally reaches your back on the hammock, he brings his arms around you and squeezes. Luffy giggles as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. You hum content, tilting your head to give him more room.

“You smell so good,” he mumbles against your skin, dropping sloppy wet kisses up and down your neck. He kisses up to your ear, eliciting goosebumps throughout your body. You roll your eyes, determined to chastise him while pretending not to be enjoying his dramatic display of affection. Luffy leaves you no room. “Although a little sticky.” He nips at your earlobe and you cry out in surprise, shoving his face away by placing your hand on his cheek and pushing.

“That’s because it’s HOT,” you enthuse with a raise of your brows. Luffy smooches your cheek with a resounding smack before he lets you go at last. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’m a little sweaty.”

Luffy laughs quietly, and instead of making it around you and the hammock–he decides to climb over it, lifting one leg over the hammock then the other. He uses the hammock for support, so you shake and sway in your seat.

“Oh, come on!” you complain although you’re quick to laugh. Luffy drops on the space next to you, making you slide down the hammock until you’re pressed up right next to him. “Can’t you do things normally for once?”

“Nah,” he replies, curling one arm around your waist. It’s hot, insufferably so, but Luffy was always like this. Always needing you close, always needing you to touch. “What’s normal anyway?”

You glance up at him through your lashes, and not for the first time you can’t help but notice how pretty your boyfriend is. The sunlight is soft through the green leaves, casting dancing shadows over Luffy’s face. Today he’s not wearing his hat on his head, so the wind plays with his messy hair, brushing it off his forehead.

You reach up to trace one thick eyebrow with an index finger. Luffy closes his eyes briefly as you do so, his long thick lashes fluttering gently. It is so tempting to just kiss him on the hammock, to forget everything and give in to your raging hormones but there’s a paper bag on Luffy’s lap and curiosity bests your desire for once.

“What you got there?” you ask him, bringing your hand down to brush your knuckles down one of his exposed biceps. Luffy shivers but doesn’t look away from the bag. You smile secretly. He always liked to pretend you didn’t have an effect on him. He was a strange kind of masochist. He enjoyed holding out for as long as possible as if it was a challenge only he competed in.

“Popsicle,” he answers simply, pulling it out from the bag. He quickly tears the wrapper open and pops it into his mouth. Luffy holds it there, no hands, so he can crumple the bag and wrapper.

“I don’t get any?” you ask him playfully, knowing full well why he didn’t get you one.

“You don’t even like popsicles,” he answers unamused, rolling his eyes as he leans back on the hammock. You yelp when your weight shifts. Luffy uses one of his arms to spread out the hammock, so you can lay on your back with him. The other held on to the popsicle. “Come here, and stop complaining. I haven’t seen you in a week.”

You wiggle on the hammock until your head is resting on his arm. The sky above is peaceful, with the wind making the tree branches sway slightly. If it was cooler, you’d fall asleep quickly, there in Luffy’s warmth.

“Yeah, a whole week. How could you leave me like that? You’re heartless,” you declare dramatically, elbowing his side slightly. Luffy chuckles, next to you, the popsicle melting quicker than he can eat it.

“I was studying with Sabo, you know this!” he groans, his thick brows drawing together. “You’re the one who told me if I didn’t pass my finals you were gonna break up with me. I almost died. My head was going to explode.”

“That was an empty threat and you know it,” you mumble, turning your face to look at him.

Now that he was laying on his back, the length of his lashes were even more noticeable. His lips, dark pink and pouty tempt you again. You swallow the lump in your throat, and ignore the desire gnawing at the pit of your stomach a little bit longer. Still, your hand reaches out, and you drag your finger softly against his cold bottom lip.

Luffy nips at your finger, trapping it between his teeth lightly. You wiggle it trying to release it. Luffy does so quickly when you squeal, tapping it gently with his popsicle.

“Stop that, unless you’re trying to make me kiss you.”

You choose silence. Luffy turns to look at you, popping his popsicle back in his mouth. He leaves it there as he watches you. He always had a hard time reading you. Luffy didn’t like to think. He liked simplicity, and spontaneity. He always had fun with you, but when you grew quiet it always scared him. It made him think he had done something wrong. This time; however, there’s a certain familiar look in your eyes. Luffy reaches out and pinches your cheek lightly, his popsicle melting slightly down his chin.

You grab his hand before he can pull it away, and hold it against your cheek. Luffy feels his heart seize when you close your eyes, when you tenderly press your face against the palm of his clammy hand and nuzzle it. There’s a tug at the pit of his belly, the one that tells him to devour you, to fill you with kisses, to touch every inch of your skin until you’re delirious in his hold.

“I missed you,” you whisper to him, and kiss his fingers one by one.

Fire was deadly in summer, especially when there was no rainy season; when there’s only been drought. It had been a week since he last kissed you, held you, he was parched–and you were just stoking the fire.

“Did you now?” he quips around his popsicle. You look up at him through your lashes, your own dark brows drawing together. Luffy tries not to laugh, truly, but you’re so cute when you’re mad he can’t help it. “You’re not acting like someone who missed me.”

You drop his hand unceremoniously, embarrassed that you even let yourself be this vulnerable with the pigheaded young man you called boyfriend.

“How exactly am I supposed to act then?” you spit, scrunching up your nose in irritation. Luffy chortles, shoulders shaking in unison. It only serves to make you further annoyed. “Just forget it!”

You sit up, trying to put some distance between each other. You were embarrassed at having been the first one to say it, and now Luffy was behaving like a smug idiot. Your face feels hot as if it was on fire, and you slap your cheeks with both hands hoping to wake yourself up enough to have some kind of clever retort.

Luffy, once again, doesn’t give you a chance. He sits up too, and whines like a child as he places his chin on your shoulder.

“What are you getting mad for?” he mumbles playfully, looking up at you through his lashes. You glance down at your shoulder through your nose, trying your best haughty look on him but you are disarmed by the warmth of his big brown eyes. “I missed you too.”

His words relax your shoulders, and you breathe out noisily through your nose. It does nothing; however, to make you feel less embarrassed and it does nothing for your increasing sexual desire.

Luffy is holding the popsicle on his hand, and you watch the trail of blue trickle down his wrist and forearm. It drips slightly on his shorts, not that Luffy seems to mind.

“Hey,” he says, his voice taking in a deep hoarseness that turns your skin hot. “I want you to show me.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. Luffy leans back on the hammock, and holds the popsicle over his chest. It drips on his skin slowly, blue on brown.

“Why don’t you show me how much you missed me?”

You’d be a liar if you said you loathed Luffy’s games. There was always something he was up to, there was always a gamble, and an ambiguous prize to win. It made it all the more satisfying when you did.

“Okay,” you tell him, slithering yourself over him. You watch Luffy adjust his hips, and a sly smirk tugs at the corner of your plush lips. You know he’s already probably at half mast just at the idea of you over him, of what’s to come.

“Hurry,” he whispers to you urgently, so quietly, the blowing wind almost steals his voice away. “It’s melting.”

You open your mouth to taste the melted popsicle on his skin. You suck loudly on the spots they lay on, making sure to flatten your tongue as you do so. You can taste the saltiness of his skin, smell the vague scent of sweat. You take in a deep noise breath through your nose as you slide your tongue around his muscular chest, lapping up the dripping popsicle that slides over the curves of his muscles.

“That’s it, chula,” he tells you, his voice husky and sultry. Luffy lowers the popsicle, leaving a blue trail of cold liquid down his abs. You watch him shiver at the sensation, his eyes fluttering close, head snapping back. You smile, watching him tease himself, edge himself beyond reason. “Keep going.”

You lower yourself off the hammock and onto the ground. You’re wearing shorts, which had you known what would happen you would have worn something different instead; more accessible. The pebbles on the dirt bite into the skin of your knees but you pay it no mind. Instead you focus on cleaning up the sticky mess Luffy has made of himself. You slide your hands up the sides of his torso, enjoying the slippery warm sensation of his skin slick with sweat.

Luffy shudders underneath you, a soft grunt floating past his lips.

Your hunger grows at the sound of him. Your kisses become messy, desperate. You dig your teeth into his side, biting down. Luffy barely holds back a moan, but by the way his core tightens you know he’s loving it as much as you do. As you nip at the space under his belly button, his happy trail tickling your nose, his erection becomes all the more evident. It pokes out from under his shorts, pushing against your throat.

“Nnhg,” he grunts, his hips moving slightly as he starts to hump up at nothing. “Mm, you missed me that much?” You smile against his skin, your teeth catching on his side again. Luffy reaches out, and grabs a fitsful of your curls. “You’re so cute. I want to eat you up so bad.”

You giggle, wishing he would do that already if that’s what he wanted but it seemed Luffy had other things in mind. Just as you were reaching for the button of his shorts, Luffy sits up, half melted popsicle still in his hand.

“Wait,” he says breathless, pretty shiny eyes unfocused. You smile up at him, although your expression is quizzical. His dark berry lips are blue tinted, and his brown skin is adorned with faint blue freckles and spots. “Open your mouth first.”

You blink, unsure of what he was planning now, but you were in too deep to question him although part of you knows you should. You tilt your head and try to gather your curls away from your face. Luffy helps you with his free hand, and when you open your mouth he slides the popsicle in.

You frown down at it, and at him, but when he makes no move to remove it, you gently close your lips around it. Luffy chuckles softly–a perverse satisfaction that makes his nether regions stiffen even more. He knows you hate the 'blue flavor’ he insists on but he can’t help it. You look so pretty when you have something in your mouth. He couldn’t bring himself to stop. Luffy slowly pushes the popsicle in and out of your mouth.

“Come on, bebé,” he pouts. Luffy even throws in a petulant frown. “Play with me. Pretend it’s me.”

You cough as he pushes it all the way in, gagging slightly on the blue popsicle. In order to persuade him to stop, you grab his wrist, and curl your tongue around the popsicle. If it melted quickly, Luffy would end this silly game and give you what you really wanted. Luffy smiles at your eagerness, at the way you lap and suck on the popsicle. He watches with furious admiration the way the blue liquid oozes down your chin and neck. His tongue dips out to lick his chapped lips. He feels parched, thirsty, even though he had been sucking on that same popsicle just moments ago.

He lets go of your hair to wipe at your chin with his thumb. He keeps pushing the popsicle in and out of your mouth while you continue to suck on it noisily. Luffy watches you, lids heavy and eyes full of lust as he pops his thumb in his mouth.

“You’re all sticky,” he says, fidgeting in his seat on the hammock. You give him a seductive look over the popsicle, one that makes him want to tear your clothes off. You knew exactly what to do to make him crazy. Luffy, not one to give up so easily, uses the remainder of the popsicle to push against the inside of your cheek, stretching your mouth open.

You blink repeatedly, and frown, watching him fumble quickly and clumsily with his free hand. He unbuttons the top of his shorts, and you hear the zipper come down.

“What are you doing?” you ask, with your mouth stretched, your cheek turning icy cold as he keeps the popsicle there.

“I’m making room for me, mami,” he says as you watch him whip out his cock. “What else?”

Luffy squeezes the tip of his cock, and watches your mouth intently. His lips part as he watches the blue drip down the other side of your chin. Luffy shifts to the edge of the hammock, and aims the head of his cock towards your mouth. The moment he shoves the tip in alongside the popsicle in your mouth your eyes grow wide.

Luffy knows he shouldn’t laugh at you. That you never enjoyed it especially when you were both having sex, but you look so cute and funny there was no way he could hold back. You bring out your hands to slap his knees, but Luffy has a hold on the back of your head now. He lifts his hips from the hammock at a steady pace, fucking up into your mouth.

You hold on to his knees for dear life, feeling conflicted at the feel of his warm cock filling up your mouth. You do your best to suck him up, to slurp and curl around his erection. The popsicle starts melting faster, it’s sticky sweetness coating everything in your mouth. You cough, and your eyes tear up as you choke both on Luffy’s cock and the popsicle juice.

Luffy grunts as he watches you. He bites on his lower lip when your eyes fill with tears. He had never tried this before, but the sensation was far from unpleasant. There was something about the coldness of the popsicle, the way part of your mouth had turned frigid and how now slowly everything was starting to warm up–to heat up.

Suddenly, Luffy pulls you off of him and takes out the mostly melted popsicle. He pops it in his mouth.

“Don’t stop now, mi amor,” popsicle still in his mouth, he tells you breathlessly, eagerly, as he grabs your head again. Luffy brings your head down suddenly over his cock before you can even form a sentence. “You have to finish before anyone sees.”

You’re reminded now how you’re the open, as he slams the head of his cock against your throat. You grip his knees tightly, as yours dig deeper into the ground of Luffy’s backyard. Yes, you were at his house, but it was still outdoors. Yes, there were sparse trees all around you, a chain fence and some shrubbery, but just behind those was one of the main roads of your little neighborhood.

If anyone was paying a modest amount of attention, they could see the entire show you were putting on for the birds, and the blade of grass in Luffy’s backyard.

It was better not to think about it. Instead you focused on the slickness seeping into your underwear. How sensitive you were now to the lining of the inside of your denim shorts. You wiggle as Luffy continues to fuck your mouth, trying to get some friction between your legs, anything to give you some relief. You hum and moan around him, your grip on his knees softening, as you slide your hands over his thighs. Luffy pants softly, his breathing becoming erratic.

“Y-y-your hands are soft, baby,” he murmurs in a daze, his face looking up at the sky.

The sun peeks through the green leaves of the branches, and he closes his eyes to the view, wanting to only focus on the sensation of your mouth; the pleasure it was bringing him. You grip his thighs, and let your fingers slide towards the inside of his legs, under the legs of his shorts. You drag your nails down against the sensitive skin of his thighs, as you flatten your tongue against his shaft and give a particularly powerful suck.

Luffy cries out, almost dropping the popsicle stick from his mouth, and lifting his hips entirely. You shut your eyes tightly, as he slams against the back of your throat, taking away your air. Luffy holds the position there, biting down on the wooden popsicle stick to keep from moaning. Your mouth fills up with hot cum, and you swallow it quickly, not wanting it to linger on your tongue. It takes a moment for Luffy to let up, it isn’t until you slap his knees repeatedly, that he pulls out.

A breezy laugh taking up the heated space between you.

“Wow, mi bebé,” he says happily, pulling you up onto his lap. You let him cuddle you, allow him to dust the dirt and pebbles off your scratched up knees. “That was so good, maybe I should go away more often.”

You grab one of his ears and pull it. “No seas pendejo.”

Luffy laughs and bends at the waist. He drops kisses on your injured knees.

“Okay, okay, I won’t go anywhere,” he mumbles against your knee, looking up at you through his lashes. You fold immediately, unable to deny him anything when he looks at you with those doe brown eyes of his; soulful and bottomless. “Sorry about your knees.”

You shake your head lighty, and card your fingers through his dark hair.

“It’s fine. It was worth it.” Luffy chortles, his shoulders shaking as he licks one of your knees playfully.

“I thought so too!”

#luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece smut #luffy smut #fic request #for the cummunity!#it's summer of smut over here

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strawhatsoraya · 1 year

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LAW X FEM READER / NSFW (minors dni, don't make me say it twice) word count: 5.7k (this quickly got out of hand) content warning: toxic relationship, situationship, law is kind of an ass in this but what's new, lot's of suggestive talk, vaginal penetration, oral (female receiving and male receiving), reader is obsessed with law and I do mean obsessed so read at your own risk, choking, several mentions of ejaculation (and what comes after so you know what I mean), biting, jealousy, knife play, drug use. this is my piece for @510hz collab event! it's taken inspiration from "starring role" by marina and the diamonds. I have been working on this forever, and it is finally done! thank you for letting me participate in your collab/event. it's been a wild ride! i love marina and this album was on repeat for a long time when it first came out.

all you give me is a heart beat

Law feels your eyes on him not for the first time that day, and makes a pointed effort not to look at you. Surrounded by the rest of his crew, the last thing he wants to do is to cause misunderstandings. He knew later he’d find you in some corner of the submarine, marking check boxes on some form he had deemed necessary; anything to keep you busy enough from demanding answers from him.

It is true that perhaps he had made a mistake when he first kissed you in his office. You had melted under his attention, become pliable under his expert hands as he brought you to ecstasy right there on his work desk. Law hadn’t predicted your eyes to be shiny with expectation the following morning at the mess hall. It should have made him reconsider, instead, he asks you into his office again. And again. He continues to do this until there’s not a corner you’re unfamiliar with, until every book and wall knows the way you sound at orgasm, the faces you make when he buries his cock inside you.

Where he is difficult to hold, you are easy. You make no demands. You’re earnest as you wrap your warmth around him, when you breathe his name in a raspy tone against his ear. Goosebumps skitter down his back and away from him. It’s cowardice, he knows, that he continues to allow this but he is selfish, and your pussy is just way too good for him to give up.

There’s also a strange ‘something’ about you.

He catches glimpses of it at a certain slant of light. He sees it in the thin line your plush mouth draws when Ikkaku settles close to him; the way you purse your lips and force a smile, a dimple hanging perilously from one cheek. It entices him, spurs him on to place a large hand on Ikkaku’s shoulder. Law leans forward. He smells Ikkaku’s shampoo as he whispers into her ear. His golden eyes are honed in on your face, on your hand that picks up the silver steak knife. The glint of the blade as you bring it down on the table sparks a fire inside him.

That night he laughs at your fury as you ride him on his desk, your frigid fingers wrapped around his throat. His own inked fingers curl around your wrists and he squeezes until you flinch and let go. There’s laughter in his voice as he murmurs your name. You huff, hips moving, desperate for release while his thick cocks twitches inside your gummy walls.

“That’s no way to treat your captain,” he says as he pries your hands away from his neck. His thumbs rub circles on the inside of your wrists. Your blood pulses underneath his touch, heartbeat tethered to the pads of his thumbs. He tries to control the smirk that stretches his bruised lips but it’s futile; a wasted effort. He kisses your fingertips, the center of your palms. He relishes in how this is all it takes to make your shoulders relax, how it was enough to bring your guard down.

He flips you over, your hot back hitting the wooden desk, and finds you immediately submissive. You spread your legs for him, inviting him to your dripping pussy. It is an offer he could never refuse; and how could he when you were practically begging him? It would be a disservice to your kindness. The least he could do was get on his knees. His hands are warm as he pushes your legs apart, shouldering his way towards your heated core. His breath is hot against your swollen nub as he leans closer. He takes in your scent as he opens his mouth to drag his large tongue over your slit. His licks are careful, measured; an inappropriate form of an apology. The way your fingers grasp his hair is reminiscent of the way he sees you grasp at straws, at the invisible seams that hold whatever this is together. As he hears you moan even through the loud slurping noises he forgets all apprehensions.

Later, in his bed when one round simply would not suffice, he feels you shift on the mattress. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, thinking perhaps you needed him to hold you. You were so needy for him, after all. He’s not sure who falls asleep first, but the last thing he remembers is the smell of your shampoo dragging him into dreams.

you’re hard to hug, tough to talk to

There was a sickness inside you, of this you were sure.

It was the only thing that could explain your senseless attachment to the one man who refused to be kept. At worst he was cold, a chill in the night, the kind that would make your limbs go numb and keep you up, sleepless and deranged. At best he held onto you with detached interest, a contradiction you tried to ignore by seeking his tongue past his treacherous lips.

There was a sickness inside of you, sure, but if that was true then perhaps there was one within him too.

When it was just the two of you alone, the world melted away. He’d let you find refuge in his lap as he sat at his desk, reading up on recent medical literature. You’d curl into him, bury your face in his neck seeking the slippery scent of intimacy. No matter how quick, or how deep your breath was, the taste never lingered on your tongue.

You tried to find it woven in the threads of Law's bed sheets. You’d plaster your nose against his pillow, mouth open in desperation. You'd spread your fingers against the fabric of the pillowcase, feeling for any of his secrets you could keep.

He falls asleep with his arms around you, and you break free gently to watch the stillness of his face. You take in his brown skin, and run your fingertips over his exposed arms. Electricity seeps into your fingers, lighting up your being.

Law seemed so vulnerable there, laying on his side, inky hair partially covering his tired face. He was completely unguarded, defenseless, absolutely at your mercy.

You could kill him if you wanted to. If you really wanted to.

You swoop in towards his bicep, run the tip of your nose from one forearm to his shoulder. The breath you take in is ragged, rattling in your chest as your mouth floods with saliva. Sea salt and ink takes over your senses. You feel him stir inside you, his essence burying itself within your cells.

A need possesses you. You gently push against his shoulder to force him on his back. Stealthily you slither over his body to press your hands over his abdomen. You feel his hardened muscles under your palms as you slide them up and over his chest. His heart thumps underneath your hands. It beckons you closer. You press your ear to his chest, eyes fluttering close.

At the sound of his heart beating you picture the blood that gives it life. You can see its journey red hued and electric in perfect detail in your mind. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and your toes curl, picturing the blood in Law's veins, how it makes his body warm.

You feel it now, that warmth of his body that lulled you into a false sense of security. How could someone so beautiful be the source of both your anguish and content delirium? How could he sleep next to you, as innocent as a child, and tear your heart in two the next morning when he'd refuse to meet your gaze in front of others?

Heartless. He was heartless; he could be.

You see yourself sinking your hands into the cavity of his flesh, parting sinew and bone with ease. You hear the crackling of ribs prickle your ears. You can almost taste iron in the air as you pluck it out, bring it up to Law's horror. His mouth drops open and he screams and screams, unable to move, unable to do anything.

His heart beats in your bloodied hands, his hot blood oozes down your forearms, souvenirs of the fight you claimed from him; of the things he stole from you a long time ago.

You blink to bring yourself to the present, to still see him slumbering beside you, unaware of the storm birthing inside of you.

It takes a moment to quiet your breathing, to match it to his. You drape his arms over you once more, cocoon yourself into the shape of him with one hand over his chest.

You drift to sleep with the feel of his heartbeat underneath your fingertips, and the taste of iron between your teeth.

when we get undressed

He slots his lips against yours, hating his own timidness. It wasn’t inexperience that made his fingers tremble; the ones he buries in your hair in hopes of keeping this one secret from you. It was his own vulnerability that he fought against–the sudden and desperate need to kiss you past your breath. There’s a warmth that blooms treacherously in his chest; an invasive species of the trailing vine kind. He tears at it with his fingers, dirt burying itself under his nails in the form of your whimpering.

He silences you with kisses, forceful and clumsy. You gasp against his sudden hunger, and he consumes even that from you, leaving nothing to waste.

His tongue is slippery as he strokes your own, his hips rutting against your heated core at a slow pace. It’s torturous, the way he feels your wetness against his erection. Law has half a mind casting gentleness aside to slip inside you in one stroke but he perseveres, and captures your tongue for a slow and noisy suck. He waits for you to bury your fingers in his hair, to scrape his scalp with your long acrylics. He even waits for your plush thighs to wrap around his bony hips, to hear you mewl and beg for him before he succumbs.

It’s so easy to bury himself inside you. You’re soaking, slippery and hot, more than eager to receive him. The tightness of your pussy still surprises him no matter how many times he thrusts inside it. It’s a heaven on earth he feels almost undeserving of. Almost.

There’s a small smile that tugs on a corner of his lips, one that is languid and full of secrets. He slithers one hand up between your jiggling breasts, still slapping his hips against yours. His balls are loud against the wetness of your skin, the sound making you blush all over. Law continues to move his hand upwards at a slow pace, until his fingers stroke up your neck. He lifts it slightly, brushes the back of his knuckles against it before he sighs.

In a swift move, he squeezes your delicate neck between his fingers. You gasp and moan as he applies pressures to the sides of your neck. Your cunt twitches around his cock as he continues to thrust in and out of you. Your brown eyes, blown wide and unfocused, roll to the back of your head when he picks up the pace. Law can’t help but laugh, even as he represses a moan of his own.

“I’m close,” he tells you breathlessly, mouth hanging open. There’s a flush on his cheeks he ignores. He blames the horrible ventilation system on the submarine. Law makes a note to have someone fix that immediately. “I’m so close, doll,” he says, not letting go of your neck. “Tell me,” he commands. You hum, and he frowns down at you, unsure if you heard him. He squeezes your neck tighter for good measure. When you gasp and choke, gagging on a moan when he viciously slaps his hips against yours, he grits his teeth. “Where do you want me to cum on you?”

You don’t answer him. Law thinks perhaps you’re just not able to. His chuckles are dark, and gritty, sandpaper against your sensitive skin. He continues his vicious thrusts, touching the deepest part of you with the tip of his cock. He feels you tightening around him, and he knows before you cry out that you’re at the precipice. Your orgasm pulls out his own from within him, and he quickly slips out of you.

His hand grasps his slippery cock, to pump furiously. White cum spurts out of his tip, and lands on the heated skin of your belly.

Law sees your chest rise and fall, sees your swollen lips parted as you try to catch your breath. Your neck and breasts are littered with blooming bruises in the shape of his teeth. He tuts, almost ashamed. There’s a strange pull in his chest that he wishes to bury. He moves away from you slowly.

“Stay there,” he tells you, voice clipped. You blink up at the ceiling, arms spread wide on his bed as you lay on his back. The sight of your tits is too tempting, and while he is spent, he still leans forward to drop a few more kisses over the slope of each one. “Don’t move,” he mumbles against your skin, and nips at the skin before retreating into the bathroom.

When he returns, there’s a wet wash rag in his hand. His golden eyes take in the mess he made himself on your soft belly. There is precision in his work, he manages to clean you up quickly and efficiently, before he discards the wash rag in the waste bin. He’d take care of it later, for now, he wants to forget everything and hold you. He slides behind you as you curl on your side, and kisses your shoulders.

“Law,” you start, trying to look at him over your shoulder. Law tightens his arms around your waist. “I want to ask you–”

He shushes you quickly, and kisses the spot behind one ear. “Let’s talk in the morning. You should sleep now.” He ignores the way your body tenses at his tone. He ignores the way he feels your fingers tap nervously over his hands, fingers locked over your belly. He ignores the way your nails dig into his forearm when he doesn’t give you more attention.

He ignores this conversation you have tried to start several times before. Law continues to ignore you, and everything else, until he falls asleep.

That morning, Ikkaku is in the mess hall, chastising Penguin over the massive plate of stacked pancakes he was carrying. Law smiles at her expression, unable to ignore the scene. He walks over, long legs making breaching the distance a very easy task.

“What’s the problem?” Law asks, reaching over Ikkaku’s shoulder for a plate. He watches with barely restrained humor, as she shrinks under his body. Her cheeks color. Law’s eyes light up at their brightness. “There should be enough pancakes for everyone.”

“Those are all the pancakes I made!” she argues back, as she tries to take a step backwards. Law immediately steps forward, reaching around her for prepackaged units of grape jam. “I’m not making more. It’s not like Penguin was on kitchen duty. He should show some consideration.”

“No more fighting,” he says offhandedly. While Law’s tone is flat, his eyes sparkle with hidden mirth. He glances sidelong at Ikkaku who hovers to the left of his elbow. Law grabs a piece of toast for his plate, and steals two pancakes from Penguin’s. He places them on Ikkaku’s plate and leans forward to whisper: “I stole these for you. Now smile. Smiling uses less muscles. Don’t you know?”

He reaches up as he pulls away, to flick Ikkaku’s forehead with nimble fingers. As Ikkaku rubs her forehead, cheeks turning a bright shade of pink, Law feels a pair of eyes on him. He knows, without even turning around, that it's your presence he feels; suffocating, and interrogative.

He raises a brow in your direction, and smiles politely. You don’t return his gesture, instead you drop your breakfast, plate and cutlery and all into the wastebasket. Law watches you quietly as you leave without a word, a cold thrill shooting up his spine. He knows he should do better. He knows that he is far too old for games but he can’t help it. You bring the worst out of him. It was a poor excuse, but he clung to it as he seeks you out at random throughout the day.

You don’t play along this time. Your look is impassive at best. Your responses are clipped, and you’re very good at making excuses–anything to keep yourself away from him.

His ego tells him it’s jealousy. His ego, and his arrogance tell him that you’re doing it to yourself. It tells him he has done nothing wrong, that there is no need for him to seek you out as if he was apologizing, as if he was one to beg for scraps of your attention. Whatever power you think you are clutching in your little hands, he ignores. He tries to snatch it back by pretending there is nothing bothering him; that he doesn’t care when you refuse to touch him back when he slides his hand over the small of your back.

Law thinks he has you beat in the lab, when he leans down to brush his lips against yours, but you turn away from him. You tell him he’s interrupting your work, and that it is very dangerous to distract a woman who was working with volatile chemicals.

He leaves the lab irate, the hairs on the back of his neck on end.

you don’t love me, big fucking deal

There’s only so much a girl can take. After all, even girls are still made of flesh and blood.

You’re not ignorant to his attempts at dark seduction. His words are honeyed and practiced. You’re slow to respond but you muddle through it, dragging your legs through the heaviness of it, clinging desperately to your convictions.

There was no turning back now.

There was no point in regretting it.

You tell yourself this as you work quietly in the operating room, placing pairs of mosquito forceps, and tweezers into sterilization bags. You’re in the midst of labeling, when you hear feet dragging in your direction. It sickens you the way you identify the owner almost immediately. The bags are sealed, and you run your fingers over the edges of them repeatedly, anything to keep you busy. Your frown deepens when you feel Law move right behind you. His hands find the curves of your hips too easily. They rest there, as if they belonged nowhere else. There’s a tug at the pit of your stomach, one that shames you and makes you hot all at once.

You’re sick of the way you are weak against him. It’s almost painful the way you crave him–need him, desperately. It has only been a day but you feel yourself falling apart without him, his touch, his kisses, the feel of his cock moving inside you. When his breath tickles your ear, you shut your eyes briefly, seizing an unsanitized scalpel in one hand.

Your body leans back, finding his hardened body comforting. You’d do anything to make him yours. Anything at all. You’d do anything to keep him there, tethered to your skin, almost as if one single body.

“What are you doing?” he asks against your ear. Law’s large hands travel the length of your arms, down your forearms. He grasps your wrists, but you don’t let go of the scalpel. Your hand shakes, as your knuckles whiten. “That can wait, can’t it?”

You blink, trying to sort your thoughts. Before you can help yourself, you wiggle your hips, rubbing your round ass against his crotch. Law doesn’t move away from you. In fact, he folds over you even closer, trapping you within his tall and lanky frame.

“Now, now,” he whispers before nipping at the top of one ear. You shudder against him, eyes fluttering close. He lets go of one wrist to bring it up to your neck. He squeezes gently, before slipping his hand further up to grasp your chin. Law tilts your face up to look at him. At the sudden press of his hips against your backside, your eyes fly open. You watch the image of him, upside down–his moistened lips, the dark lidded gaze to his eyes. “You shouldn’t be moving like that with a knife in your hand. It’s dangerous. This is an operating room. You’re supposed to be a professional.”

You laugh, thrilled at the prospect of charming him. It was always like this–a push and pull of dark tides, a barely moonlit ocean where the perils of the depth were too obscure and distant to predict. Still, you rise up among the waves, challenge him by spinning in his arms. His head jerks immediately at the glint of the light on the blade. Law’s breathing is erratic. There is a pink tint to his cheeks, as you bring the scalpel closer to his neck.

“I am always a professional, Captain” you tell him with pursed lips. Law’s adam’s apple bobbles as he swallows. His gaze is trained on your face. His dark lashes fan over his cheekbones, full of promises if only you could get him to commit. “Now, why don’t you be a good patient and get on that table for me, hmm?”

Law hesitates. His eyes are cast down over his long nose, as if he was weighing his options. You press your lips together, and the scalpel against his skin. A tiny bead of red blooms over the skin of his neck. You almost miss the wrinkle of his nose–the tiny tell-tale sign of his discomfort, but as you press your body against his, you feel his erection against your belly. The hardness of it pressed against the soft rolls of your belly is enough incentive to throw away all doubts.

“Are you going to get on the table, or do I have to strap you down to it? What’s it gonna take?”

Your full lips pull into a crooked grin. Law swallows saliva. His mouth waters at the sight of you, your brown skin glowing under the fluorescent lights, the way the halo of the light bulbs lingers on your dark irises. They’re sirens pulling him towards the sea. He feels his body react to you. Desires touch their fiery fingers to every nerve, singing away his common sense. Finally, he obeys, as he walks backwards away from you and towards the table.

You follow him, his eyes never leaving you, as he slowly undoes the remaining buttons of his shirt. You chuckle softly, and tilt your head, scalpel still in one hand as you continue to approach him. Law stops when his ass collides with the edge of the operating table. You advance towards him without giving him room to think or breathe. Your free hand slides over his exposed belly, long acrylics scratching his skin lightly as you drag your nails up to his chest. Law hisses, goosebumps scattering across his skin.

Law knows it's a dangerous gamble–to push you the way he wants to while you hold a blade, but he finds his hand reaching out for you. He buries his fingers in your curls, and pulls you forward towards his mouth. His lips collide with yours roughly, a bit too much teeth and spit, but you swallow it up, drink it all as if starving. His facial hair is ticklish against your jaw as he kisses up to your ear. His teeth tug at your earlobe, and you almost drop the scalpel. His free hand–the one not keeping you close to him by your hair–roughly grabs a breast.

A part of you threatens to fall apart. You want to slice at your own clothes, to perforate your own skin, and make room for him to slip inside–to stay there forever, as a part of you. You moan against his mouth, his tongue stroking the roof of your mouth before it swirls around your tongue. As you break away from the kiss, you gasp, your free hand pushing his chest so he can lay down on the table. You straddle him quickly, blade still in one hand. Carefully, you drag the blade over his skin, lightly so as not to cut him.

Law breathes harshly, and shudders as the cold metal runs its course down the middle of his chest. You stop the point at the edge of his jeans, carefully stroking the dark hairs of his happy trail with the point of the scalpel.

“What are you planning on?” he asks you, as you lose interest in the thick dark hairs. You hum contemplatively, and drag the scalpel further down. You follow the path of the zipper of his jeans, and trace the shape of the imprint of his hardened cock as you straddle his thighs. Law swallows, enjoying the weight of you over his legs, trapping him underneath you. He is ashamed at how the danger of the blade over his denim covered erection makes him feel as his cock is twitching for more.

“I’m not planning anything,” you say quietly, giving in to the way your mouth waters. You undo the button expertly with one hand, and pull down the zipper, slowly pulling out his cock through the hole of his boxer briefs. “As long as you behave.”

Law laughs, even as you grip the tip of his cock with one hand. You stroke the glistening drop of precum on his tip, and smear it down with one thumb. Law swallows a moan, as his back arches slightly off the table.

“You make it sound like you’re in charge. Aren’t you getting the wrong idea?” he asks you, reaching for one of your breasts. There is a look that you toss his way that he isn’t sure if he imagined; equal parts impassive and murderous. Law ignores it, as he tends to do, and slips a hand under your shirt, seeking the softness of your skin. His calloused thumb against your erect nipple, makes the coil under your belly tighten. You move your hips slowly, feeling your panties moisten with your arousal.

“I think I have the right idea,” you tell him, before biting your lip. When he pinches your nipple between index finger and thumb, you try to swallow the moan that follows. “I have the perfect idea, really.”

In an effort to gain control, you lean down, and swirl your fleshy tongue around the mushroom head of his cock. Law groans, and throws his head back on the operating table with a thud. You hollow your cheeks, and take him into your mouth, allowing the thickness of him to take up space inside. You bob your head up and down, eyes closing at the salty taste of his skin, at the slight musky scent of his pubic hair.

You slurp around his length noisily, your own drool sliding slowly down your chin. Law’s fingers find your curls again, and he tugs at them roughly. It doesn’t take long before he’s snapping his hips, fucking up into your mouth. Your eyes water when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You fight your own gag reflex by digging your nails into one of his bony hips. When he ignores your warning, and grips your hair harder, you nip at his other hip with the tip of the blade.

You hear him cuss under his breath as you pull away from his cock, gasping for air. The image of him sprawled under you is blurry as tears spill out of your eyes. You wipe at them haphazardly, trying to clear your vision. There’s a small drop of blood that loses its way down the sharp angles of his hip.

“You could have just used your words,” he reprimands you breathlessly. You laugh sardonically, grabbing his still erect penis with your free hand. You grip the base and slowly squeeze your way up, taking in the way his jaw tenses, how his mouth drops open a second after you squeeze the tip.

“Kinda hard to do when you’re trying to shove your dick down my throat,” you respond. He laughs and watches you adjust yourself above him, how you lean on your knees on the table, to move your lab coat aside. Your hand snakes into your skirt, and you push your panties aside. Law grits his teeth as you grip his cock to guide him to your entrance. “You should try putting it in here instead,” you murmur, as you lower yourself on his cock. It takes a brief moment to adjust to his girth. You move your hips slowly at first, testing the waters, absorbing every expression on Law’s face.

You slide one hand over his belly and stop in the middle of his chest. You use it to keep balance, and to steady yourself as you increase your pace. The pressure builds inside you with every snap of your hips, you follow it towards the edge as your mouth drops open, small moans echoing in the stillness of the operating room. Your slick coats his lower pelvis, making it a slippery effort to stay on rhythm. You drop the scalpel. Law flinches as he hears it clatter on the ground. Your hands go to his chest for support, as you bring yourself up to your haunches and bounce on his dick.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think you should be ashamed at the sounds you are making. Your cries sound impossibly loud to your own ears. You had spent days ignoring him, trying to act like you didn’t need him, and here you were, willing to ride him until your knees gave out. Law moans softly as he palms your ass. He grabs fistfuls as he plants his feet on the operating table. Law grunts as he lifts his hips, toppling your forward over him. You cry out, feeling him push deeper in your throbbing pussy.

“What?” he laughs against your cheek. He brushes his lips against the burning flush on them. “Not there? You told me to put it in,” as he finishes his words, he thrusts his hips upwards, repeatedly fucking up into you. His balls slap against your dimpled ass, slightly coated by your own arousal. The wet smacking sounds somehow makes your arousal all the more intense. He fucks you without an ounce of affection, as if he didn’t care if you broke. You cry out as your orgasm nears, and wrap both your hands around his neck.

His hand is in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, as pleasure ripples throughout your body. The fluorescent lights blind you, filling your vision with white as you cum. Law loses his hold to wrap his long arms around your waist. He pulls you close as he mumbles confessions against the column of your neck. You’re squeezing around his cock so tight he thinks he might die. He tries to tell you this–how close he is to his own undoing when he feels a pinch on his neck.

Panic seizes him, he tries to push you off of him as his vision blurs. He clamps a hand over his neck, cursing under his breath.

“What–have you…done?” he slurs, as he watches you sit above him, a blurred image of some kind of syringe in your hand. His vision doubles–triples, and he grows nauseous at the sight of multiple of you.

“Calm down,” he hears you say in an impatient tone. “It’s not like I hurt you or anything.”

Anger threatens to choke him. He feels it bubble up, feels its origins start at the base of his stomach. Law tries to cry out, to curse your name once, ten times, thousands of times, but the weight of his body is too big for him to fight against.

Darkness comes, as it does for everyone.

And in the darkness, he wakes up again. Law feels his eyes open, he senses his hearing returning. He can smell the seawater, and hear it dripping gently on metal. He blinks in hopes of shaking off the film over his eyes–but he still can’t see anything. He tries to move and hears the clanking of chains, he doesn’t get far as it drags him back to the wall it is attached to. He fumbles in the dark, seizing whatever is wrapped around his neck, the cold metal around his fingers tells him there’s nowhere to go; made of sea stone he is held prisoner. There are cuffs around his ankles and wrists; one around his neck.

A chill touches his exposed skin, as his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness, Law realizes he is in nothing but his underwear. Shame and anger makes his mouth water. He screams out, but it sounds garbled to his ears. As he tries again, his body sore and sluggish, he hears your footsteps.

“Y/N!” he groans, trying to lunge for you. The chains pull him back to the wall, and the metal cuff around his neck gags him.

You squat in front of him, a knife in your hand. His vision blurs, even as he fights the drugs.

“Stop this,” he whines, unable to feel embarrassment at the weakness in his voice. “Just let me go.”

“Let you go?” you ask him, eyes wide. Your brows arch high over your forehead. Your lips, the ones that had always tempted him to kiss you, are like knives he’s cut himself open on by mistake. They stretch into a smile so sinister Law swears his insides have been torn apart. “Never!” you hiss quietly, as you swoop towards his face. Law flinches as you grasp his face with one hand. You bring up the knife, and trace the sharp line of his jaw with the tip of it. “I’ll never set you free. You’re mine now, always, until forever, and then after.”

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