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turtletaubwrites · 2 months

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A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you.

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket.

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way.

Not that it matters. They’re pirates.

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by.

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky.

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you.

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands.

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming.

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you.

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms.

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy.

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you.

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited.

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt.

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye…

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you.

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile.

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you.

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water.

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes.

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you.

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you.

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction.

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out.

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net.

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain.

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that.

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass.

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide.

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves.

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like.

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question.

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck.

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in.

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine?

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him.

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first.

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it.

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him.

But you were exhausted.

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm.

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out.

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin.

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door.

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin.

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off.

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little.

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick.

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it.

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew.

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes.

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air.

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does.

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment.

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway.

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions.

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it.

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him.

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit.

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire.

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol.

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over.

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork.

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips.

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips.

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin.

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low.

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like.

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough.

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing.

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand.

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice.

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand.

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you.

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away.

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat.

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island.

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters.

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours.

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek.

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

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Part 2

#shanks x reader #red haired shanks #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #one piece x reader #one piece fics #turtletaub fics #follower celebration #fic requests #mine #fluff #one piece fluff #shanks fluff #shanks fics

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ageingfangirl2 · 2 months

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Not Who I Was Looking For! Trafalgar Law x Reader SMUT (One Piece)

You were busy going through ship paperwork, that you didn't realise the rest of the crew had left you on the ship. Until Law walks in looking for Luffy and takes an interest in you instead. The doctor always knows what's best. Law x Reader (Female) SMUT!

You finish going over the last of the ship ledgers and scribing of The Straw Hat Pirates, cursing seeing it was dark outside when it had been light when you started. Sometimes you lost track of time, you just liked to work hard and everything had to be perfect. You should head to the kitchen to see what Sanji is cooking and catch up with the crew.

The ship was awfully quiet when usually it was so loud, where was everyone? The kitchen was dark when you entered which was also odd. Just how long had you been locked in your room? There were two notes on the counter, one from Sanji and the other from Nami.

Beautiful, I have prepared you a plate and left it in the fridge. If you're going to work hard you need a hearty meal...Sanji

We've gone into town if you want to join us. Chopper says it's not healthy to keep yourself locked up and working, so come and have some fun with us...Nami

Nami knew how to break you, use Chopper who you couldn't say no to, 'I'm not a workaholic,' you huff, 'if the crew weren't so crazy I wouldn't have to do as much work.'

You head to the fridge and open it, licking your lips at the sight of the silver lid Sanji put over the meals when you skipped eating with the crew.

'WHAT THE HELL!' you state, upon removing the lid to find an empty plate, 'LUFFY!' you growl and slam the fridge shut.

A man clears his throat behind you, 'I'd suggest keeping snacks in your room, preferably healthy ones. You're not Luffy.'

You jump not recognising the voice, and turn around to see a tall shadow looming in the doorway, 'who are you?' you ask, hoping your voice sounds strong and not scared.

The man turns on the lights and you shield your eyes, 'I heard they recruited someone new. You don't look intimidating but looks can be deceiving.'

Your eyes adjust to the light and you can't help but check out the man in front of you. Luffy had talked about a pirate with a white and black hat and covered in tattoos, 'Trafalgar Law,' you gasp.

He smirks and walks towards you, intense eyes tracking you like prey as you scurry around the counter, 'I'm flattered you know me, I came to see Luffy but you've piqued my interest.'

Before you can run his hand snakes out grabbing your arm roughly, and with little effort he tugs you towards him, pinning your back against the counter. You'd heard stories about Law and his devil fruit, and being alone with him didn't seem smart because you didn't quite know what terms he was on with the crew since you were new. But a small part of you perked up and you mentally curse Nami and Robin for getting you into romance novels.

Law's eyes trail down your body making your cheeks flush, and you shake the dirty thoughts out of your head needing to get away from him, 'I'd love to stay but I'm meeting the others in town and they'll be worried.'

Law tuts, 'I know you're lying. You were going to grab some food and go back to your room. Good girls don't lie, but maybe you're not a good girl,' he sniggers.

'You don't know anything about me Law,' you state, puffing out your chest with pride.

Moving one hand to your hip, the other comes up to your blouse which he quickly unbuttons exposing your chest, and before you can call him a pervet his tattooed hand rests over your heart which was beating erratically, 'I took a quick peak in your room, you should be more aware of your surroundings, anyone could be lurking in the shadows. You're smart, educated, and might have OCD but amongst your many books the ones with the most creased spines were tacky erotic novels.'

You gulp nervously, 'What do my reading habits have to do with this situation?'

Law taps his fingers on your chest in time with your heartbeats, 'everything actually. I'm an intellectual, you should be scared of me because I can hurt you, but your fast heartbeat, dilated pupils and clenching of your thighs indicate arousal. I've never studied the correlation between erotic fantasies of fiction and real-world applications. You fascinate me.'

You bite your lip and squirm under his hungry eyes, 'you're crazy, let me go.'

You freeze when he leans in and you feel his warm breath against your ear, 'A lot of scenes in those books involve exhibitionism, the act of being turned on imagining someone walking in on you having sex. We might be alone but your crew could come back at any minute--' he whispers, then pauses.

You jolt feeling his hand on your hip move down until it was slipping up your skirt, your body betraying you as his fingers graze your underwear, '--imagine their reaction seeing me fucking you on this counter, their good girl screaming my name. Oh, the humiliation for you, but you'd feel great.'

Law pulls his face back just enough to watch the wheels turning behind your eyes, the moan that leaves your lips as his fingers pick up the pace all the consent he needs, 'Chopper is worried about my health,' you hum.

Law's smirk reaches his ears, 'let this doctor take care of your needs. NOW GET ON THE COUNTER!' He growls, his eyes darkening.

When you don't comply, he picks you up like you weigh nothing and slams you down on the counter, ' and slides your underwear down, 'Law...' you hiss at the sudden coldness.

Law pockets your underwear and continues smirking, a nice reminder and potential blackmail material in the future.'

Everything he did had you clenching, ashamed at how turned on you were getting being used by a man you only knew the name and reputation of.

You bite down on your lip as he runs his hands down your thighs, shivering in anticipation, 'Law...' You mumble his name again.

He coos, 'relax. God your skin is so soft and unmarked.'

Your fingers dig into the counter, a whimper leaving you as his fingers slip between your slick folds, and your body instinctively moves to get more of his touch, 'please Law...don't tease me...'

'FUCK!' you yelp, hips buckling at the sound of skin on skin, eyes widening seeing Law slap your thigh.

He tuts, 'Stop moving, you'll take what I give you, God you're so wet for me.'

You pout and ready yourself for another slap, 'that wasn't intentional, you whine.'

Law laughs, 'do you like it when I spank you? imagine what I could do to your pretty ass, you wouldn't be able to sit for days.'

Before you can reply he dips two tattooed fingers inside you while another goes to your clit and starts to rub, 'Mmm...so good...' you moan, throwing your head back.

'LOOK AT ME!' he growls.

You lock eyes with his hungry ones, as his fingers pump in and out of you building a tension in your lower half. This was so much better than anything you'd read.

'LAW!' you scream, as he adds a third finger, your walls clenching around his sinful fingers.

Law sniggers, 'yes, scream my name. Maybe you do want to get caught. They'll never look at you the same way again, no more good girl but a horny slut. What are you?'

You whimper, 'I'm a horny slut...your slut...'

He leans in close to your face again and simply pecks your cheek, 'I want to do so many things to you. My good slut. Now cum for me.'

The kiss sends you over the edge and you release over his fingers and hand and probably the counter, 'YES!' you pant.

Law stands back and admires his piece of art, 'You're such a messy girl, getting off on my fingers. We're going to have a lot of fun together.'

You gasp as he pulls out his fingers coming down from your high, 'what do you mean?'

'Open your mouth, clean my fingers, this is your mess,' he orders sternly and you open your mouth, only to have his cum coated fingers thrust inside making you gag.

You suck and lick them clean, as Law cups your cheek with his other hand and lazily rubs circles on it, a usual loving gesture but he was planning something behind his eyes that wasn't so loving. The thought both scared and turned you on.

He removes his fingers from your mouth with a pop and scoops you up off the counter and into his arms, but your eyes are drawn to your juices still left on the counter, 'err I should clean that up before Sanji sees it.'

Law squeezes your ass and holds you tighter as he carries you out of the kitchen, 'let him find it and lose his mind, our dirty little secret.'

Law wasn't joking when he said he'd been in your room because he found it again without directions, 'you never answered my question Law. What do you mean by having fun together? Isn't this a one-time thing?'

He places you down on the bed and sighs, 'We're going to continue this, like I said I want to do so many things to your body. Luffy and the rest of the crew will be in the dark. You're going to say yes, because when I go you're going to be thinking about my dick inside you. Tell me I'm wrong.'

You shake your head and scrunch the bedsheets beneath your hands, 'you're now wrong Law. That was better than the books.'

He leans down and kisses the top of your head, again you're unsure if the gesture is loving or manipulating, 'Good girl, now go to sleep it's not healthy to work so hard.'

'What about you?' you motion to the bulge in his pants.

He shrugs his shoulders, 'I'll handle it before seeing Luffy. Might even ask that cook to make something in the kitchen. Good night.'

You watch him leave your room and close the door. You'd really gotten yourself into a situation, this wasn't like you, but being at sea for so long made you have needs, and it wasn't like you were going to bump into his crew that often.

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sordidmusings · 2 months

Text

Give (in) and Take (me) - (Beckman x Reader)

Art by shibama_TK9

A/N: *Hasn’t completed a smut in weeks, comes back throwing a niche character at you to spread simpin for him like a virus* plz love him he’s great and while he ain’t my main I’d have nooooooo complaints in partaking 😩 tryin to give @fanaticsnail some morsels cuz the writing for this man is quite devastatingly scant. She also a whole sweetie and wrote me some perfect Buggy when she found out I was doing this. Obviously I am much slower 🥴🥴🥴

Word Count: ~8.7k

Warnings: fem!reader, NSFW, there’s some plot at the front and back, bratty reader, brat-tamer Beckman, he does the Nanami hair grab 👌🏻, semi-public, standing, against the wall, man-handling, clothed sex, p in v, creampie, praise, degredation, lots of teasing on both sides, age gap? (briefly mentioned, ~30 and late 40s), Beckman is a lil mean but don't worry he's Whipped, this some filth filth 🥴 whoops

Now please come enjoy prodding the big gruff man (who just wants to treat you right) until he snaps

(˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

You’ve had enough of the raucous jubilation in the bar, especially now that you noticed your awaited opening unfolding before you. The rest of the Red Hair Pirates were fully distracted in their jovial whirling, hooting, and playing, leaving a certain silver smoke cloud all by his lonesome. You’d been dancing through his whisps all night, enjoying how they’d wrap and curl around you as you went. It was in their nature to do so. Each brush of a hand got a shiver and a sigh and a trailing stare. Each floated conversation was leaned into, breathed in, savored. Each departure was followed with the turn and lean of his chest, pulled to follow from the sure grip on his thumping heart until his doubts rooted him down and resisted the tug.

You were plagued by your own doubts, mostly of what the “after” would look like, but you were certain of one thing: he was attracted. Along with his need to entwine with your presence, you’d noticed the tell-tale sign of his gaze drawn to lips, neck, breasts, hips, and thighs. You’d noticed the hunger growing his pupils so they could better suck in your image on each glance. You’d noticed how he had to keep flicking his tongue out to wet his lips, mouth dry from restrained need. Most importantly, you’d noticed the way he had to shift and shuffle while he watched you dance, fighting the need to pull you away for himself to join and trying to flush the heat from his body. Whatever it was that was holding him in his seat and keeping his hands and lips and tongue off of you, you were going to drag him right through it until he was fully in your grasp.

First thing’s first, you retook your spot on the stool next to him at the bar. Immediately the smoke tendrils embraced you; your drink was scooted back in front of you, his thigh slid sideways to seek the brush of yours, a lethargic smile took residence on his face to greet you. You responded with a coy smile of your own and then a hearty gulp of your drink. The steady burn and potent taste of liquorice cutting through the muddled mint and lemon centered you and heartened you for your plan of attack.

“Thanks, Becks, glad to have you as my cocktail guard dog,” you said with teasing humor. You gave his thigh a friendly pat that crossed the amicable boundary with a lingering hold and gentle squeeze, before you brought the hand back up to give you another sip of your drink. The taste of touch on his thick muscle had it twitch in delight. Your mouth watered at the feel, not quite sated with alcohol on your tongue when there should be skin.

“Any time, darlin’,” Beckman responded easily and honestly. “Though I don’t think there’s any here who would do much to it. Much more likely one of the fools will steal it to drink for themselves.”

You laughed at the statement, knowing how true it was. When the crew was drunk they got sticky fingers, and when it came to drinks they were the worst - none quite remembering whose was whose and caring even less to get it right. Knowing where you wanted to try and get this night to go, you’d kept yourself far behind them in intoxication. You kept yourself right in the sweet spot of inebriated enough for that coveted liquid courage but not so much that you were out of control of yourself. Besides, if you got your way you didn’t want any of the details to be foggy.

“Even so, it’s appreciated,” you reasserted, giving him a winning smile and stalling his heart. “Now can I ask another favor of you?”

“‘Course you can, darlin’,” he replied instantly. Another cheer rang out in the background, followed by the beginnings of a long and loud drinking song. Beckman used this as an excuse to lean into your space to better hear and see you. “What can I do for you?”

You centered yourself more forward towards the bar, just to force him to lean in even closer to chase you, and peeked at him from the corner of your eye. The look mixed with your mischievous smile had him ready and eager to agree to whatever you had in mind. Not that he’d let you see how easy it was for you to sway him.

“Well…” you trailed off, just to make him squirm, “I can think of lots of things you could do for me. I’m having trouble picking my favorite.”

Beckman’s brows rose at the blatant flirting. Sure, you’d both thrown some flirtatious comments at each other throughout your relationship, but they didn’t feel anything like this. They felt easy, friendly - like something to build rapport and have fun. This felt so much heavier - a gift offered to him that was pulling the possibility of closeness from cloudy dreams down to the ground with the weight of the warm cast of the bar lights, the dark desire in your eyes, and the sultry tone of your voice. He began to recount how many drinks he’d had to check if he was imagining the advances he’d long wished for. Maybe he should check for you too.

“Darlin’, how many drinks you got in you?” There was genuine concern in the question, mixing with a touch of incredulity. You scoffed at it all.

“Not enough to lose my sense, thank you very much,” you answered. To snub his misplaced worries, you downed the rest of your drink. “That was only the fifth of the night, we’ve been here hours, and you know it takes much more than that to take me down.”

“That it does,” Beckmann conceded. The bare affection in his voice and eyes while he said it had you flushing, finding care much more difficult to process than lust. “Now my task?”

Yet again, you took to keeping him in suspense. Instead of answering, you slowly drew your gaze over him, assessing him. He fought against the small shiver it put through him; he felt like you were staring straight through his clothes. He felt like he was getting the most important appraisal of his life and all he had to go on was the burning in your eyes and your cryptic smile. You were doing a better job of reading him; while his expression remained perfectly schooled, you were observant enough to see his tells. Just as when he watched you dance, he shifted in his seat, working through the flush of arousal poured on him from his nervousness and having your eyes glued to him. Between the curtains of his wavy silver hair, you saw his Adam's apple bob with a strong swallow. He started lightly drumming on the bartop with his fingers on the hand closest to you.

Using that to your advantage, you made your next move. Doing it slowly so he could layer each second with his anticipation, you trailed your fingertips across the knuckles of his fidgeting hand, halting the motion. You flicked your gaze up to check in on his eyes. They mostly held confusion, but so so much interest was also packed into his silver irises. Happy with the reaction, you proceeded to move your teasing touch further, traveling over the back of his hand and his wrist to play with the soft hair on his forearm in deliberate circles. Though he was nearly bursting with questions, Beckman kept his mouth shut and resolved to let you lead this at your own pace until you finally decided it was time to reveal your hand to him.

“I’ve decided,” you started, finally breaking the silence with an alluring whisper, “that I want more than one favor.” You stopped watching your fingers touch him to look at him through your lashes. “And I know where you can start.”

Beckman blew out a long breath, hoping to settle down his heart, which was still jumping and kicking. You’re not drunk, but this has to be the alcohol. You couldn’t be propositioning him. Him. Maybe he’s just a curiosity? Perhaps you were interested in trying out an experience with an older lover who’s had more years to learn his way around a woman? Maybe, even though you could have your choice of any of the patrons, you found him to be the easy target.

“And where is that?” he asked, making sure to keep his tone steady.

“You can take me home.” You noticed the real shock in his gaze, and for the first time in the encounter a bit of panic seeped into you. Thinking quickly to soften the blow, you explained, “Don’t wanna walk home alone with even a little alcohol in me, and I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Aye, darlin’, that I will.” The honesty in his words stoked your courage back into a steady burn even better than the one brought on by the hard drinks.

Using the hand that had been trailing over his forearm, you loosely held his wrist, slid smoothly from your seat, and began leading him out of the bar. Beckman followed you easily. You didn’t have to put any pressure behind your hold on him; he wouldn’t let you get more than a step ahead of him. Even with his close hover, you both ducked and weaved with practiced grace through the chaos of your crew and the rowdy celebration they’d whipped up with all the other patrons. By the time you’d reached the entrance, you’d ducked three swinging fists, five drunken “dances”, two frisbeed hats, one flung fork, and a pair of tossed shirts.

The door shutting behind you sealed away the cacophony of the crowd, melding it with the comforting ambience of late night bugsong and strangers distantly living their lives. The outside world felt pleasantly chill and calm, especially in contrast to the atmosphere of the bar. The slight bite to the air only made the small contact between the two of you feel that much sweeter in its skin-to-skin warmth. Both you and Beckman sucked in a deep breath of crisp evening air to savor the moment.

Throwing a cheeky (and, to his worry, slightly plotting) smile his way, you began to head in the direction of the docks. You only made it about eight steps. The moment the alley between buildings opened on your right, you yanked Beckman into the shadows with you. He stumbled after you with barely a fight, continuing his emotional flavors of the night: confused, intrigued, and happy to be here. Once you fell past the full streams of light from the street lamps, you spun around to him and pounced.

You began by rooting him in place, fisting your hands tight into his shirt by his waist and stepping so close that your chests and stomachs and hips and thighs touched. You leaned up to place a kiss right above the point in his v-neck, relishing the heat of his skin against your lips. You shivered at the feeling of a twitch of interest against your lower stomach. His hands quickly found your waist and gripped. He worried the flesh under his fingers, earning his first quiet moan from you. It only made his grip stiffen, warring with himself between his disbelief at your advances and the rabid need to pull you closer and make sure you never stopped.

Beckman began to use his hold on you to ease you back from him. You responded with a frustrated whine and greedy hands. Those hands massaged their way across the packed muscles of his sides and chest before twisting in the fabric over his large pecs and tugging him down to your height. Taking advantage of the untouched skin now within reach, you kissed and sucked your way over his collarbone and up his neck.

His plan of retreat crumbled under your advance, leaving him to paw his grip down to the meat of your hips and try not to succumb to the fierce instinct to grind his aching cock against you. Your head spun with your rushing blood and skipping breaths. The whirl was spurred on by finally getting to know the taste of his skin, the feeling of his coveting hands keeping you close, the sound of his stuttering breaths morphing into panting. Now you just needed to spur him from receiving into action.

“Beck, touch me,” you whispered against his ear. He shivered fully from your lips and breath ghosting over him and filling his skin with addictive tingles. Losing his concentration, Beckman guided your hips in one long, sturdy grind against his straining hardness. You nipped his earlobe in appreciation. “I want you to touch me.”

“You’re drunk,” he weakly protested.

“We both know I’m not,” you shot back. Switching your methods, you crawled your hands up his shoulders, his neck, and into his hair. You led him with sweet and teasing kisses against his cheek and jaw, playing with the way his head always tilted to follow your affections in a wanting daze.

“You should look for another man to share your body,” he tried again, this time managing to sound assertive through the breathiness of his voice.

“Do you really want another man touching me?” you bit back at him.

“No,” he instantly growled. The mere idea had always put a pang in his heart but feeling your touch and hearing the words from you made it more real, and he was no match for the spike of angry possessiveness that overtook him.

“Good,” you cooed coyly, lips back against his ear, “because I don’t want that either.” You took a long moment to tease your nails against his scalp and nip the skin next to his pulse. He succumbed to another torturous grind against you. Each press of him gave you a better idea of what he was hiding and had your mind running rampant trying to figure out how it would feel splitting you open.

“I want you,” you moaned, pushing all the genuine need into your voice that you could.

“Come on, pretty thing, you don’t mean that,” Beckman stubbornly argued. He’d sound much more convincing if he wasn’t moaning the words out with his strained rumble, turning the statement into a plea.

“I do though,” you whined back to him, right below his ear where you were working hard to leave another pretty mark. For all his propriety fueled hesitation, Beckman was still leaning down so you could reach his neck and tilting his stubbled jaw away, pleading for more of your attention. “I do mean it.”

Your own desperation and his unspoken pleas for your touch fueled your boldness. One of your hands left his tresses to wedge between your pressed hips and grab a hold of him. A groan shook through his ribs, only encouraging your hand to press and feel more. His cock twitched and jumped under your slow strokes and palming, begging for your touch when he wouldn’t. His cheek fell to your shoulder and his humid panting caressed your neck.

“Pretty girl, if you keep touching me like that,” his speech was interrupted by a poorly restrained moan, “I’m not gonna be able to keep my head.”

“Then don’t,” you encouraged, voice rushed and ravenous and pulling him to the depths of his urges in his new favorite siren song.

Having felt him in your palm, you became set on getting to feel him skin to skin. You wanted to feel the power of the radiant heat that poured from him so strongly you both felt like you were burning through your clothes. You wanted to see what’s been hidden from you, become privy to secrets that will let your fantasies forever hold more reality. You wanted to know he let you have this piece of him, let you take his body and take control of his pleasure. On top of all of that, you wanted to feel, see, and know the thick hardness that was going to stretch you wide open.

In your rush, you only gave yourself time to trail a few kisses down his chest on your way to your knees. Beckman leaned himself back on the wall of the bar, opening himself up to as much of your touch as you would give. He still attempted to keep his defense under the siege of temptation, taking to opening and closing his hands at his sides to keep them from manhandling you. He wasn’t strong enough, however, to push you away. Each touch of yours was teasing him with the heaven he’d been dreaming of finding under your hands and in your body. Now having had a taste of your touch, It’d take nothing short of a gun to the head for him to break from anything you were willing to give. Doesn’t mean he won’t try to steer it so you’re taken care of the way he wants you to be.

He looked down at you, hypnotized by the radiant image of you and your styled hair and your decorated lashes and your smudged lipstick actually kissing him, treating him with the desire he thought impossible. His eyes had long adjusted to the darkness of the alley, blessedly letting him take in this image to hoard forever.

As your knees hit the dirt path, it hit him - alley. You were getting yourself dirty to touch him, basically in public in your rush, stuck in a location with only hard ground and stone walls for comfort. The realization had his cock throb hard, getting an eager moan from you where you were kissing along his length while your fingers made their way under his sash to find the waistline of his trousers. Fuck, this was a dream. It was a dream, but not the one he wanted for you where he takes his time worshiping every inch of skin, treating you like royalty, going slow so when he makes you cum it shakes you from toes to fingertips to the crown of your head-

“Darlin’, you deserve better than some back alley fu-”

“What I deserve is you; now let me have you,” you grumbled back to him, nosing his sash up so you could leave kisses and nips right above the hem of his pants. You inched them lower and lower, following their descent with your hungry mouth and savoring every new speck of skin you could. You got past the ridge of his adonis belt when you realized he had nothing on underneath them, making your mouth water with ever more anticipation. You could tell from the tenseness in his muscles, the tremors in his thighs under your clawing grip, that he was at the end of his rope. Centering a kiss on his happy trail, you looked straight up into his eyes and ordered, “Now fuck me.”

You were just about to get his pants low enough to let his painfully hard cock out to greet with a kiss when an angry hand took hold of the hair at the back of your head. It clamped in a fist and turned, taking absolute control of you. White hot adrenaline poured through your body, bursting fresh with each hard pound of your heart and stuttering your every breath. That iron grip jerked back, forcing you to crane your head back with it and look up at the imposing bulk of Beckman looming over at you.

“You want me to fuck you?” he growled dangerously, leering down at you with a growing scowl. Steadily he curled himself down until his nose bumped yours and you were sure you could see how the lighting and lust had turned his eyes from shining silver to dark stone. The light pulsing in your scalp was no match for the shadowed face and piercing eyes of Beckman taking over your every thought and dragging your heartbeat low to drum between your legs. “Fine. I’ll fuck you like the slut you’re set on being.”

“I’ll happily be a slut if it's for you,” you breathed out before you could think, sounding nearly in a trance from his sudden dominant behavior.

The declaration had his cock jumping and his knees weak.

“Darlin’,” he moaned, voice stretched thin by his taut, straining need. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He surged down, stealing your lips in a bruising kiss, using his hold on your hair to control every tilt and press. Right away, you opened to each other, exploring the flavor of each other’s tongues and indulging in the tingles brought on by sliding the slick muscles over each other. You shivered and moaned when he flicked the point of his tongue on the roof of your mouth and he swallowed the sound down greedily. Never breaking his claim on your lips, Beckman hauled you up to your feet. The action set a pleasant burn on your scalp as you chase the pull of his grip. Your hands went back to work on getting his cock free, but he snatched them up.

“No,” he rumbled against your lips. “You’re just going to take what I give you.”

“Beckman,” you whined back to him between your continued fervent kisses, “let me touch you.”

“Sluts don’t make demands,” he snapped in a bitter taunt. Using his height to his advantage, he pulled out of the reach of your lips. He was still able to lean down over you and keep distance, forcing you to keep your head craned back with his fist in your hair and his gaze holding you hostage. “I thought this was what you wanted.”

“I want you,” you moaned in complaint. Though your voice was warbly with want, your tone was way too petulant to be considered begging. Even so, it was testing his resolve.

“You’ll have me,” he answered gruffly.

Before you could realize what was happening, you were flipped around and swapped, now facing the rough wall of the bar with Beckman right behind you. He had released your hair so he could trap each of your wrists to your sides. He kicked your feet to spread with heavy boots and settled eagerly against your ass. He anchored you against him by pulling on your wrists, keeping you trapped against his grinding hips. The height difference had him centered at the level of your tailbone. The feeling of having you against his cock was overwhelming, especially with the plush of your ass massaging at his sensitive balls. Quiet grunts accompanied each circle of his hips, always carried with the erotic sound of his heavy breaths.

You tilted forward and arched your hips up, seeking attention against your weeping entrance and swollen clit. The change had his dick nestle between your cheeks, the base of his cock and his tense balls giving you a small piece of the pleasure you were seeking. He stood just barely too tall for them to give any attention to your clit, causing you to shift and shimmy back into him in search of more. Despite the lack of direct stimulation, your body was still in a pleasant buzz; he felt large and heavy and hot against you and your mind was swimming in joy at how hard you made him. The open-mouthed groan you earned from him with your squirming shot enough pleasure through you to have your clit pulsing.

“On your toes, slut,” he ordered.

You listened without thinking about it and were rewarded with the new height lining him up much better to grind against everywhere you wanted him. Well - almost everywhere. Most of all you ached for him to massage you inside out, rub and dig into every slick plush space you could offer. Despite the burn already entering your calves, you tilted your ass up even higher to feel any extra speck of friction you could get from him.

Beckman’s grip on your hips was commanding, he owned your every sway and grind of your clothed cunt and ass against him. The skirt you were wearing was beginning to ride up with each thrust, exposing inch after inch of fresh skin to his hungry eyes. Both of you thanked your choice of garment as he used one hand to shove it up and over your perked ass to hang limply around your waist. It swayed and brushed your legs with each continued motion, hypnotizing Beckman for a moment.

That moment was broken when he instead looked at your ass, smooshed high and round with each grind, your underwear cutting sinful lines across the muscle, making your skin pop around the tension in the most mouth-watering way. It had Beckman moaning from deep in his chest again and thanking whatever lucky stars he had that let him have you in front of him like this. The sight mixed with the new heat from being just that much closer to getting to your bare cunt had a flurry of possessiveness and need overcome him. He nearly bowed forward to the strength of it, but fought the call so he could keep watching your body writhe against him.

You had no doubt you were sopping wet, more than enough to make his slide in slick. Each grind of him against you had your soaked panties dragging with him, causing sharp friction that was just on the right side of too much. You wondered faintly if you were getting his pants wet too, wishing you could easily turn and see to find out. You wouldn’t have been disappointed; a steady dark spot had built on his crotch from a mix of your leaking pussy and his weeping cock. You had gotten him dripping pre-cum the moment you began kissing down his chest. It had only gotten worse with each touch, his body desperate and ready to be inside you.

Suddenly, one of his hands and his hips disappeared from you, leaving you feeling lost. Before you could stop yourself, you let out a whining moan at the loss, sounding fucked out and pathetic without either of you truly being touched yet. The small coherent part of yourself marveled at the number he had done on you.

“Don’t you worry, pretty thing,” Beckman grumbled, half placating and half condescending. The sound of shuffling fabric clued you in to his missing hand’s task. “I’ll give you just what you need.”

His large fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, guiding them over your ass until they fell down. Your slightly spread legs had them catch on your thighs and Beckman huffed at the inconvenience.

“Stay right there,” he rumbled in warning as he crouched down. He dragged the soaked cloth the rest of the way off, guiding you with gentle cues. The slide of his fingertips down your legs sent tingles across your skin, but the delicate hold he put on each ankle to ease them out of the garment had your heart thumping. In this process his touch switched from tyrannical to reverent, making your mind sing with hope. That song only hit a great crescendo when he peppered the backs of your thighs with sweet and slow kisses.

As he rose back up and shoved the ruined cloth in his pocket, Beckman broke you both out of his worshiping trance by giving a playful and slightly mean nip to your left hip. You let out a little yelp despite yourself and he chuckled at the reaction, finding it absurdly cute. You shivered again at the throaty sound, nerves too easily tweaked from your potent anticipation. It only got worse when his hips found yours again.

Both of you moaned at the feeling of finally meeting skin to skin, immediately addicted to the wet heat and heady throb of each other. You sent your hips high with renewed vigor, spurred on by the need to chase more of the feeling of his thick cock against you. You were right about him being thick and long; his grinds spread your folds wide, exposing your entrance and clit to the sweet friction, and he laid across the length of your pelvis. It let him see the leaking red head of his cock peeking out from between your cheeks, the filthy image making his eyes roll back and an involuntary moan of “fuck, darlin’” growl out of him.

Beckman hooked his right arm around your front, nestling it as close to the tops of your thighs as he could get. It let him use your hip bones for stability in his hold, saving you from your weight crushing the limb into your stomach. The anticipation of feeling your legs bounce against his arm while he fucks you had him salivating.

He curled his arm, pulling your lower back flush to his abs. It made him take your weight, the toes of your shoes just barely scuffing the ground when you pointed them. You’d seen his insane strength before, but feeling it used on you had your body lighting on fire along with your cheering mind. Beckman’s other hand slid from your hip down and in on your thigh, spreading and lifting your leg until he was holding the inside of your knee out to the side. It left your cunt exposed to him, each grind of his further mixing your arousal with the pre-cum spreading down his cock.

“Hold that wall and keep your voice down,” Beckman instructed, “Unless you’re such a whore you need an audience.”

You let out a complaining moan at the harsh words but still writhed eagerly against him, unable to deny how they had you fluttering in anticipation. Your hands found purchase on the stone wall in front of you, giving you a sense of balance and security in your barely supported upper body. You were close to it so your arms were bent, allowing you strength and leverage. The force behind his grinds had you sure you’d need it.

Slowly and deliberately, Beckman slid his cock from root to tip between your slick folds, threatening you with his impressive length while he made sure he was properly coated. He only stalled the movement when his thick tip found its way down to your entrance. Unable to help himself, he ground a tight circle around it, groaning out a deep “fuck” at the feeling of your cunt trying its best to suck him in. You let out another keening moan, sounding vaguely like “please”, at the realization that his head was the perfect width to stretch you out right to the edge of your limits.

Angling his hips just right, Beckman followed the catch of your entrance to start forcing his way into you. You were right about the size of him; only his mushroomed tip was in and you already felt like your hips were being pressed wider. His achingly slow sink into you let you both feel every overwhelming bit of contact, every delicious rub of soaked skin on skin. Your mouth hung open, letting out appreciative moans, even though your attempts to hold them back left them clipped and jumbled.

Beckman had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the sensations flooding him. You felt so goddamn perfect wrapped around him. He felt somewhere in his being that you were made to be here with each other and force bliss from your pounding hearts and bodies. He finally fell to the call to curl as close to you as possible, his temple rested on yours, his stubble teasing your cheek, and stray gray hairs sweeping down to tickle your skin.

“So, so good, darlin’,” he praised breathlessly. He made it another inch into you, offering your cunt more firm flesh to clamp down on. “You feel better than a dream -nnngh- got the perfect pussy for me.”

An unrestrained moan tumbled past your lips at his praise, brain too empty and body too happy to care about anything anymore other than him and the feelings he brought out in you. The cheering and music from the bar was loud enough to lightly leak through the walls, so you wouldn’t have worried too much about attracting attention anyway.

He hadn’t prepped you any, but the abundant arousal sitting in your body so long loosened you up and made sure there was more than enough lubrication for him, especially with the addition of his own. His torturously slow press into you helped your body make room for him too. In fact, your pussy was so eager to open for him he felt like your walls were trying to suck him in quicker as they quaked and trembled around him. It made it near impossible to resist the urge to shove as deep into you as he could go, needing the hot grip of you around his aching cock and the pleasure of your plush ass and thighs pressed tight against his hips.

When he finally got there, you were both shaking and gasping. Your head felt light with the amount of bliss swimming through you at finally having him like this, held tightly in you while you shared your bodies. It also helped that he had you feeling so deliciously full; the press of him was potent enough to spread through your sides and up through your chest. It was the biggest stretch you’d taken but his size was just perfect, like he was built just to fit you and you him. The weight of his thick cock rested down towards your stomach, primed to massage your every favorite nerve.

“Just like that, darlin’,” Beckman groaned, starting his first pull back out of you. He continued with his slow speed to make you feel every ridge and vein in detail. Your favorite was the rim of his head dragging across your swollen walls. He sat that head just within your entrance and paused. “Bein’ such a good little slut.”

Right at the end of his praise, he shoved forward to fully sheathe himself back in you. The force of the thrust pressed the air from your lungs, creating a breathy moan, and gave you a taste of pleasure that had you certain that no matter how long he fucked you, you’d always want more of this potent bliss. You could live like this, fucked the rest of your life, just so long as he never stopped taking and touching you. He continued the strong and steady pace, needing to savor every second in your cunt, memorize every twitch and flutter. It had you whining, mind fraying under the threat of how much more he could give you.

“Beckman,” you moaned in frustration. “Give me more, I -ahhh- I need it.”

A punishing thrust had you feel him in your throat and your eyes rolled back in time with your high pitched moan. That moan turned into a rough whine when he stayed sat fully inside you instead of continuing. To tease you further, he began tight circles against you, making his pulsing cock play with every inch of your cunt, earning him a tight clench from you. This tantalizing rub continued as he moved to nip at your ear lobe.

“What did I say about making demands,” he warned, rumbling the words right against your ear. The puffs of his breaths shot goose bumps up your neck. He tilted his head down to tease his teeth over the flesh and continued his maddening little circles against you. With one leg trapped in his grip and the other barely reaching the ground, you had almost no leverage to work yourself back against him. Your abs burned with the effort as you tried to use your grip on the wall to stabilize yourself and grind back, but his iron grip was much stronger than any of your attempts.

You sobbed out a few needy moans at his continued meticulous playing with your body. Though you wanted so much more right away, that steady press of him waking up every inch of your insides was starting to build a pit deeper in your stomach than the one you were used to. Your mouth watered at the thought of what a full body high it could bring you but it felt so far away and you wanted to be smothered in pleasure now.

“Beckman,” you whined out, catching the way it made his breath hitch over your skin. “More, harder.”

Nothing changed and you were stuck spread open and suspended and at the mercy of his whims. It was the most deliciously frustrating thing you’d ever experienced, being forced to take the slow treatment. It made your body and mind agonize over every little sensation, every pulse and throb, every inch of you he reached that you’d never felt before. It made your ears take in the obscene sound of the little motions of his cock pushing drop after drop of your arousal out of your entrance to drip down his balls and your thigh. You flushed at how graphic it sounded, ears, face, and neck burning, especially with your combined heavy breaths and mixed moans and groans.

“You’re gonna have to try much harder than that, pretty little thing,” he goaded. You could hear the taunting condescension in his voice and you cursed the fact that it made your pussy spasm around him. The twitch of his cock that it earned inside you swelled your desperation to feel more from him until it swallowed your pride whole.

“Please,” you gasped, near truly sobbing in need. “Pleeeeease, fuck me harder, Beck, fuck me faster, please, just -hhhah- just need more.”

Beckman sucked harshly on your neck and set about answering your pleas. He changed right to fucking you fast and hard, making you yelp at the immediate flood of sensation. Your thigh and hips jumped in his grasp as you tried to take the onslaught. Every nerve in your pussy burned in the most beautiful way, emptying your head of any thoughts other than Beckman working your body into a quick frenzy. His teeth, lips, and tongue were decorating the sensitive skin of your neck; his hands and arm were clamped, making you feel blessedly trapped; his torso hovered on the back of yours, giving you brushes of his hard working muscles in motion; and his cock - his perfect cock - was bullying you open over and over and lighting every quaking inch of you ablaze.

Through your panting breaths and scattered moans, you could hear the wet slap of his hips against you, each impact making a little more arousal gush out of you. Being spread as you were also let his heavy balls tap against your clit with each hard thrust, ensuring every wired part of your pussy was seen to. You could barely form words but you were sure he caught the slurred praises you sent his way from how he echoed them back and kept adding more and more heat, pressure, grind, suck, and drag on you at your breathless moaning.

Stuck on the start of the encounter, he kept repeating a favored phrase to you - “So good, darlin’, such a good fucking slut”.

“Your slut,” you panted, “only -hnngh- yours.”

The pledge of ownership had his eyes rolling back and his mouth more ravenous against your skin. He needed to keep you locked to him forever, be on your skin forever, brand you as his, and have you mark him as yours.

“That’s right, darlin’,” he rasped, “only mine.”

He dropped your suspended thigh in favor of sinking a bruising grip into your hip. Your thighs clapped together with a wet smack, forcing a yelp from you as it jolted your clit. He placed an apologetic kiss on your shoulder and got right back to his tempo. The deep pressure he’d built with his deliberate grinding was now added to by every thrust, creating a shaking warning of the orgasm to come that sat from hip to hip and up to your ribs. It felt like he was fucking you just as deep, each drive of his cock seeming to replace the beating of your heart in your chest.

The new dancing on your toes had your calves, thighs, and abs working in sporadic clenches and twitches, the jerks and shifts causing pulses around your clit and into your trembling cunt. The new position made him feel all the wider as it let your labia relax around him and light up with delicious friction on each thrust in and pull out. The squeeze of your legs and muscles also put constant pressure on your clit, which Beckman would jostle with each forceful fuck into you.

All of it was getting to be too much and you were happily drowning under the rising tide of that threatening orgasm. It was swimming through your body so thoroughly you were sure you could feel each strong thrust pull pleasure from your very bones. Every piece of you that lived between your hips felt blinding white hot and pulsing and alive and so so very good.

The cherry on top of your euphoria were the pieces of the feeling you could hear echoed in Beckman. His voice was deep and groaning but also strained and fucked out as it whispered dark praises against your neck and shoulder. His breath was ragged and just as desperate as his touch, which was trying its best to permanently attach to your skin. His aching cock was just as responsive as your trembling pussy, dripping and twitching and jumping with each move and touch of your body.

Responding to the telling grip of your cunt clamping down constantly around him, Beckman slowed his pace slightly, focusing instead on the strength of each thrust and keeping his angle just right to drag you to your end. It accented the sound of each strong clap of his hips into yours and brought back clarity to the feeling of his thick cock spearing you. Your mouth hung open, panting and watering from the change of pace and unending pound and pull of him fucking your cunt into the shape of him.

“Beckman, Beckman, Beckman -ahh!- so cloooose,” you cried, voice thin and desperate. He cursed and moaned in response, the sound of you nearly making him lose himself and cum before you. He kept his pace pounding into you, each firm fuck lighting up your tightening walls and bouncing through your swollen folds and thighs to drum on your clit. Your head was swimming; despite your fast and canting breaths, you felt like you couldn't breathe, the air escaping you with each thrust beating a needy moan from your open mouth. The burn for oxygen only added to the tightly wound pleasure gripping you from throat to cunt, clawing tightest from your hips in, held steady between his sturdy hands.

Your toes and fingers tingled numbly in anticipation and shook just like the rest of you. Instinct tilted your hips just a degree higher, letting the tip of his dick tap just so against your cervix, ramping the overwhelming build even higher than you thought possible. Your moans yelped out sharper and higher amid sobs of “don’t stop, don’t stop, pleeeeease”, making Beckman groan and curse in his own mind-numbing arousal and frantic fight not to cum first.

A few more thrusts blazing across your cunt and shaking deep in your gut had the tension finally burst. You felt it first in the shot of electricity from your clit down to your toes and up to your buzzing head, before the tight pulse of your muscles took over everything. You writhed and shook against Beckman as he held you like a lifeline, trying desperately to fuck you through every second of heaven you could feel instead of following you over the edge. Each jerk and clench of your body gave you more and more bliss, the squeeze of you so tight and sure that it felt like there was only room for Beckman’s large cock in your body.

He couldn’t manage to pull even an inch out of your cunt, too weak to deny himself the bliss of feeling you cum, so he guided you through with shallow but heavy thrusts. Each tap on your cervix swelled you more and more until you weren’t sure if you had already cum or there was something else building on the other side of this endless screaming song in your nerves. Your answer came with the feeling of a snap that switched your cunt from long pulses into frantic milking down on Beckman’s jolting cock. Each squeeze was powerful enough to cause a full jerk and shudder of your hips, having you slip and grind in Beckman’s clawing hold on your hips.

“Fuck, darlin’, sweetheart, fu-uuuck, you’re too good, too much -ngah!- so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his forehead into the side of your neck, your only anchor in the torrent of sensation ripping through your body. After an eternity, your muscles and nerves began to relax, leaving your body feeling limp and heavy in the wake of your pleasure. You were positive nothing worked anymore except for your clit and cunt, both still drooling and twitching over Beckman’s shallow thrusts. You were thankful your closed legs kept the attention from overstimulating you fully. Beckam felt your body relax, getting an addicting sense of pride from fucking you into a limp puddle, and finally took to chasing his own pleasure.

“Need to see you,” he gasped, flipping you around and desperately pressing his twitching cock back into you. He shuddered at the relief, feeling ravenous and untethered every second he couldn’t be inside you. All his sanity was now held in the taste of your skin, the pleasure in your voice, and the sweet clench of your plush cunt. Pressing your foreheads together, he made it impossible to look anywhere but at each other. Even in the low light that managed to sneak between the buildings with you, Beckman’s silver eyes glowed while taking you in. The color looked sharper pressed thin by his lust-blown pupils and you were hypnotized as his gaze swallowed you whole.

Seeing the needy scrunch of his brows and the way he switched back and forth between clenching his jaw and hanging his mouth open to moan freely sent fresh sparks straight down to your clit. Having your legs spread around him had his racing thrusts teetering you on the edge of overstimulation, but it was well worth the sight and feeling of him rabidly chasing down his pleasure in your cunt. He was mindless and rutting in his need, enjoying your sopping heat contrasting with your nails scrabbling for purchase on his broad shoulders. The hug of your thighs around his waist kept him close and added to the wondrously tight clench of you that seemed to spread over his whole body. He was so, so close he just needed one little nudge.

“Beckman, please, need you -hahhn- need you to cum in me,” you begged, tone broken from all your moaning.

He was kicked right over the edge, barking out a deep “fuck” at the power of the orgasm shredding through him. He jerked his lips down to yours, holding you in an open mouthed kiss full of tongue and teeth and groans. He shoved himself as close as he could get to you, trapping you near painfully tight against the stone wall with his pressing bulk, demanding lips, and throbbing cock. His dick jumped hard with each pump of hot sticky cum deep in your cunt. It warmed you inside out and mixed with the heady knowledge that you’d completely unraveled this imposing man to unexpectedly drag you into a milder orgasm of your own. Each heavy jerk of him helped guide you through your own bliss, bodies working in perfect synch to have every pump answered with a coaxing squeeze. It kept you both suspended in your mindless heaven until you’d wrung every bit of pleasure from each other that your bodies could possibly give.

Beckman was certain that you’d sucked his very soul from him if the numb and clumsy feeling of his body was anything to go by. It wasn’t ready to listen to him, acting like it belonged to someone else and he supposed that was true; it was yours now. You’d held his heart a long time and his mind even longer, so it was only fitting that you owned his body too.

You didn’t seem to be doing much better with being in charge of your body, eyes half-lidded and lashes fluttering against the need to close. You were a vision - your foggy and affectionate gaze glued to him from under dark lashes, the flush tinting your sweat-damp skin, your lips parted and kiss-swollen, hair a wild crown around your head, decorating your face with stray strands. He studied and admired the image of you fucked-out and languid with eagerness and reverence. You were doing much the same, enjoying his mussed silver waves of soft locks, his gently shining eyes, the hints of red on the apples of his cheeks and his chest, the heavy rise and fall of his sculpted shoulders as he tried to catch his breath.

The sound of a drinking song spiking high in volume snuck through the wall and shattered your illusion of privacy. You were both suddenly back against the side of the bar instead of whatever pocket world you had carved out for just yourselves. Beckman continued to hold you steady as he slowly let your tired legs down, your skirt following after to hang back in place. Your legs shook under you like it was your first time standing and you laughed at their clumsiness. Beckman cracked a loving smile at you, stealing your breath and halting your chuckles. Again the melody within the bar seeped out to you clearly and you laughed even louder this time when you recognized one of Shanks’ favorite tunes. While he tucked himself away, Beckman raised a brow at your cackling until he recognized the song too and added his own gentle laughter to yours.

Looking him straight in the eyes, you fought to sing along properly through your bubbling giggles.

“I took that lass and smacked her ass

Said darlin you’re comin’ with me”

He took your hips and pulled you to him, guiding you in the closest to a swaying dance that your uncooperative legs would allow. He quietly joined you on the next lines, treating you to the deep and raspy parts of his voice that lived in his chest.

“Ain’t got a hall but we’ll use the wall

Just give me an hour or three”

“What do you say, darlin’?” Beckman asked with humor dancing in the light reflections in his eyes. There was a seriousness underlying his tone in his next question, however. “Willing to give me a few more hours?”

You gave him a sweet smile but turned it coy, your attitude sneaking back as your mind stabilized. “You’ve got one to convince me to keep you.”

Beckman huffed out a laugh at your bite coming back and leaned down to kiss your forehead affectionately. He took a moment to rest his cheek atop your head, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, delicately tinged with a touch of sweat and sex. It had him shiver and start to twitch back to life. Slowly, he trailed kisses from the top of your head to the tip of your ear. His warm breath made you shiver and begin to heat again as well.

“Sweet darlin’,” Beckman mumbled, lips tickling the rim of your ear, “I’ll have you back to begging for me in half the time. Gotta show you that I don’t just know how to fuck; I can worship.”

#beckman x reader #benn beckman #one piece #thirst hours #benn beckman x reader #beckman x you #beckman x y/n #x reader #fem reader #one piece smut #benn beckman smut #x reader smut #my writing

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cebwrites · 3 months

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Hello !! Love the way you write the heart pirates 🫶 if it’s okay to request, would you be able to do head-cannons on the silly hearts with a reader who tends to fall asleep anywhere and everywhere around the polar tang?

They don’t do it on purpose- honest! But they don’t realize how tired they are and fall asleep on instant contact with anything comfy :’) ((inspired by my own tendencies to crash on the couch or floor with a simple pillow or soft blanket, the occasional chair if the sitting position complies))

No need to write if it’s a little silly!! You can take it any direction you want, have the bestest of days and keep on writing your awesome work, take care!!

a/n: eepy gang rise up!! i have a habit of getting very sleepy after eating too of course it's okay, this is just about what i need rn actually _〆(´Д｀ )

for anyone new here, here's the hearts name guide <- i use for them!

Heart Pirates with tired Reader

masc reader, they/them law word count: 1.4k

At first, it's just after a hearty dinner that your peers catch you on the verge of falling asleep—Bas, Laeno, and Dorie pride themselves on making such good knock-out food—but slowly they notice how you're seemingly able to pass out anywhere and everywhere you can find a comfortable enough position to curl into

Provided it's not during an important briefing or otherwise Heart-related meeting, since nodding off during those tends to make your captain quite upset and you've crossed them on the singular instance of doing exactly that before, the crew knows to leave you well enough alone

You pride yourself on never falling asleep on duty, at least

On occasion, someone will wake you for additional work at Law's behest if you've already finished or call you down for supper or Penguin and Shachi have the mischievous inkling to do something prank-related; either they're dragged away by someone more responsible or get chewed out by Law for putting you in ridiculous poses to take pics of while you were asleep, upset about something along the lines of potential injuries

The more you get to know your crew and the stronger your bonds become over the years, the more you start to lean on other Heart pirates for your impromptu naps instead of just cozy inanimate objects; none of them have ever beaten the sheer comfitude of the weighted blanket in your quarters, though

Bepo is the easiest suspect being as big and soft as he is, and the friendliest too, Ikkaku is more than happy to lend a shoulder as the resident "big sister" (although she's younger than half the other members), and hell even Pen and Shach were comfy enough pillows once you got them to swear not to pull any funny business while you slept - lest you made balloon animals out of them

The others all warm up to you on their own time, depending on whether you've been there from more or less the start or you're a relatively new member to the crew

Ani is reluctant for physical contact, it takes you getting to know them a little more before she's willing to shake you awake or spend a while sitting next to you taking a nap in comfortable silence, gay uncles Bas and Laeno with the addition of Fang have dubbed themselves the unofficial official "carries you to bed" squad

The other gay uncles (Marl and Gul) are content to leave you where you are whenever you drift off but always bring a blanket when it looks like you're getting cold or you don't seem like waking up any time soon - Dorie and Hoki try taking you to bed but Dorie's always too loud and ends up waking you before then and Hoki, well, Hoki can't quite seem to pick you up as a taller, heavier man

By god he's trying his best, though that also has the unfortunate consequence of waking you up; you once overhead Hoki training with Fang with the express purpose of getting strong enough to carry you to bed like "everyone else" and you genuinely didn't know whether to be flattered or mortified

Uni's content enough to let you lay your head on their shoulder (arm, because frankly he's huge) for a short while, though eventually he gets antsy and needs to move but since you're there he can't, but also Uni needs to move while not waking you up, like a cat asleep on its owner's lap trapping them for all eternity; other crew members have found him in this predicament every so often and find it hilarious/a perfect photo-op while he can't avoid the camera's embarrassing lens

Some of these pictures have both of you napping together (he accepted his fate and fell asleep sitting up, their back makes them regret it later)

You're awkward around Jean Bart at first, as you were with everyone else in the beginning, though you did puff out your chest a little at the thought of being someone's senior much like Bepo, and slowly as you took the initiative to spend more time around him, you'd find yourself falling asleep with his knee as you pillow every now and again, sometimes even with his very large hand over your back as a blanket; Jean Bart too would fall victim to the pictures taken while he was at the mercy of your slumbering form, unable to flee

Clione and Hake, as much as you adore them as friends, have the unintended affect of activating your sleepiness once they go on another one of their longwinded rambles about a topic of special interest; you've apologized time again that it's not because they're boring you, not at all! Their voices are just so easy to listen to, hearing them talk at length about things important to them, it's a comfortable backdrop to doze off to

Hake laughs this off with light teasing, flattered that their voice is as soothing as you claim it to be, Clione has to be coaxed with a bit more than that, but usually gives in after you agree to buying him a treat of his choosing at the next island they drop anchor at

The captain themself—you aren't quite sure how to act around them, you were sure that they'd been upset by the first and only time you fell asleep during that crew meeting, making it a point to never do that again in the hopes of avoiding Law's ire, and although it didn't seem like they'd been that upset with you again, being around them still set the hairs on the back of your neck on edge; like you were being watched

To your defense, you were, but not necessarily in the way in the way that you would've assumed

It took nearly a year of being in proximity with and hardship with each other for Law to finally ease up being around you and another year for them to fully let you in - you realize in that time that the staring is just something Law does with everyone, their crew, strangers on the street, marines they're supposed to be on watch for, it was just something your captain tended to do

Plus, observation wasn't the only reason for their keen eye on you, at some point, Law had developed these—day they say, absurd—feelings, for you, and were at a loss for what to do; so, without consulting anyone else like the massive dweeb they were, decided that intense soul-burning eye contact was the way to go instead of just talking to you and getting a boyfriend that way

Some days it was an attempt to get you to make a move before they did, other days it was trying to blow you up with their mind for daring to make them feel this way, and on the days you felt like you were ignored by your captain even more than before? Those were the one where Law doubted their feelings the most, wishing to hide them away and feeling if you looked too closely, you'd catch onto their "true" intentions and they would simply dissolve under your gaze

A bit unfair, but when has Law ever been anything but?

Now, comfortable with the relationship you've built with one another, Law calls you into their office often to sleep on the couch there, or take a nap on their bed while they worked tirelessly still at the desk in their room; whenever they needed a break or you'd call them over, they could simply recharge in the comfort of your arms and you'd get a warm body to slumber against

It does seem, however, that once the both of you got together Law started being a bit more scrutinous about your random cuddles with other crew members whenever you fell asleep per usual, almost pouting when you gave your attention, albeit unconscious but still physical, away to other people

You tease them about it once other Hearts inform you about this very interesting behavior and turn scowls into kisses with light laughter

The only person seemingly exempt from this "cuddle = angy Law" rule is Bepo, but that's only because he's the baby and Law is unwilling to give up their cuddles on their precious bear either, so the both of you will sometimes just nap on him together, sometimes to Bepo's chagrin when he needs to move just like Uni

Bepo obviously clears, but at least now it looks like there's finally someone to challenge your weighted blanket <3

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jatsaro · 9 months

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Pirates of Etheria Masterpost 🏴‍☠️✨

(aka the AU where i venture to ask the brave question of “what if i shoved SPoP and PotC into a blender and made it my whole entire personality and never shut up about it?”)

probably gonna use this post as a place to link comic updates and other silly little thoughts about it but if you’ve seen me be insufferable abt my Blorbos on Twitter you are more than welcome to see me struggle with uploading it all over again, and if you’re new you’re welcome to stick around for the Pirate Agenda wooo >:3c

FAQ i just made up on the spot:

What is PoE/What’s it about? —It stands for Pirates of Etheria, which is a play on the Pirates of the Caribbean title,,, i am not very good at titles but i was too lazy to change it so that’s what we’re sticking with atm, but basically i like SPoP and i like PotC and my brain said teehee and combined them and i have never recovered from that high, it’s self-explanatory this is just what if lesbian pirates,,, i am a clown of simple taste

Where can I read it?—it’s in comic format bc i woke up one day and chose to torture myself! so it’s still very much a work in progress but the first chapter is gonna be uploaded and linked and so is the second, which is halfway up on my twitter and will be here as well as soon as it’s finished :]

Is there an age rating/any content warnings I should know about?—My plans for PoE is for it to mostly stick along both the plotlines and the maturity rating for PotC, which is generally inclusive of some PG-13 content (not recommended for children due to suggestive scenes, violence, you get the gist). Each chapter will include a content warning for any sensitive content, though generally speaking i’d wager it will be a relatively SFW read :^]

When will you finish it?—bro i am just doing this for The Vibes idk i’m rly slow

So is it a crossover or just a pirate AU, or…?— ……yes (longer answer: it's not really a crossover AU in that you won't be seeing PotC characters gallivanting around and interacting with the SPoP crew, but there are elements from both sides of the source material that form the plotline for this one, as well as references/maybe the occasional Easter Egg,,, but yeah it's kinda just a mix!)

Why is [insert page(s)] in [language other than English]?—1) bc i'm super cool and bilingual and Latine, therefore a Latine Catra (and a couple of other characters) Truther >:^} and 2) bc it's my AU and i'm being entirely self-indulgent mostly

#PoE AU #sigh #here we go again #but anyway i will unfortunately take any excuse i can to talk about my beloveds #spop au #potc #drink up me hearties yo ho #did you know i have a pirate au btw #in case i haven’t mentioned it before #teehee #my art #spop #catradora #she ra #atp it’s just me posting away in denial of ai ruining everything everywhere so

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captainkurosolaire · 2 years

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Against th' Tides I make my Rise.

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aquilapolariz · 6 months

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the ocean's mercy (portgas d. ace x reader)

Summary: Ace encounters an ocean of memories and thoughts that seem to drown him. Someone needs to pull him out of the sea and help him navigate it.

Notes/Warnings: Minor spoilers for Ace's background and minor spoilers for Wano (all of them are literally just name drops), angst with comfort! Requested by anon

Word Count: 2.2k | Read below the cut or on Ao3 here!

The Moby Dick was filled with cheers and liquor as the crew watched Ace single-handedly take down a pirate crew. Pride swelled within you, joining in the shouts and claps of your pirate brothers and sisters.

Ace landed back on the ship with a dramatic thud, hopping onto the railing, and then jumping onto the deck.

Ace was reliable but reckless, fiery and confident. His tattooed back was facing you, Whitebeard’s Jolly Roger on display to Ace’s friends, enemies, and everyone in between. But really, when it came to Ace, there really was no in-between. He loved like there was no tomorrow and saved pure hatred only for those he believed deserved it: those who hurt the people he cared about.

His shoulders, strong and sure, slouching only when he squatted on the edge of the ship, were laid back in satisfaction. His chest was puffed out with no signs of exhaustion on his face. He shined bright like the sun, his radiant smile reinvigorating the crew, which prompted them to grow louder and drink even more rum. It seemed like nothing could ever shake Ace or his unwavering resolve. The air around him was full of certitude, as if only the strongest of earthquakes and tsunamis could weaken his unfaltering spirit.

And disasters that were big enough to shake up Ace were few and far between.

A disaster of that magnitude ended up being Marco offering Ace the position of Second Division Commander. You raised your eyebrows at Ace’s hesitation. For a full week, he didn’t give Whitebeard or Marco a proper answer.

The great Fire Fist Ace is never uncertain, or so you thought.

+++

Ace made everything look effortless. From making his crewmates laugh to punching enemy pirates or falling asleep in any situation, Ace made living life look easy. But he was only human. And just like every human, Ace contained multitudes that were hidden beneath his facade.

“Looks like we’re spending more time together, huh?”

“Guess so,” you said inattentively. “Though you are a big shot now, Mr. Second Division Commander. Who says you’ll have the time to spend on me?”

“As my own boss, I say so. I gotta get to know the Second Division better than anyone else.”

“Well, cheers to that,” you responded, your glass clinking against his as the party celebrating Ace’s promotion commenced.

You didn’t tell Ace — or anyone else for that matter — that you saw him pacing outside of Pop’s door for an hour the night before.

+++

Even from the ship, you could see that his feet were in the sand, but his mind was somewhere far away.

“Hey, Ace,” you uttered, quietly approaching him.

“Hey,” he replied, his eyes regaining their vibrant glow as he turned to you with a captivating smile. “Not enjoying the feast?”

“Hard to enjoy it without you,” you shot back.

“Codependency at its worst,” Ace laughed.

You sat down next to him, the sunkissed sand filling in the spaces between your toes and enveloping your feet like a warm embrace. “Why aren’t you on the ship with everyone?” you lightly chided, “it’s a commander’s duty to spend time with their crew, no?”

“Wasn’t really feeling it today, I guess.”

“Was it something Teech said? I swear that guy doesn’t know how to shut up.”

“If I was bothered by Teech I would’ve left this ship long ago,” he chuckled as he looked away from you. Ace’s hearty laughter was like a wave that regularly washed away your worries. But this time, it didn’t.

You took in the view he was facing: a shoreline that never seemed to end. Before you joined him on the beach, Ace had been staring at the sand for what felt like years. Within the minuscule grains, Ace could see the faces of a young Sabo and the legendary Gold Roger. He blinked and those faces morphed into the purple-haired Otama and the crying face of Yamato.

These sands of doubt and time did nothing to ease the tension in Ace’s body.

“Despite how close you are to everyone, it still feels like you keep people at arm’s length. You said you needed to get to know your division more, but how about letting the division know you?”

“There’s nothing to know.” Ace feigned offense at your skeptical expression, “What can I say? I’m a simple guy.”

“A simple guy who Whitebeard allowed to take a division commander spot?” you questioned.

“Exactly! What you see is what you get.”

You snorted. “What I see is a devil-fruit user, who has a misspelled tattoo of his name and doesn’t know how to wear a shirt.”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Contrary to popular belief, I know how to spell my name.”

“That’s odd. I’m not getting that from what I’m seeing.”

“Then what do you get from what you see of me?”

“I see my second division commander. Reliable. Cares about his friends and his family to a fault.” You paused, but Ace kept nodding, urging you to go on. “You’re just eating all these compliments up, huh?”

“Whattttttttt? Nooooo!”

“I see a stubborn idiot”— you mentally celebrated a small victory when Ace’s lips instantly turned to a pout — “who’s too kind.” He squinted at you. His expressive face never seemed to get old. “Too kind to the point where you never want to be vulnerable.”

The tension in his face all but vanished, and he suddenly turned away.

Despite always seeming larger than life, this was the smallest you’ve ever seen Ace. With every wave, the sea crept closer and closer to where the two of you were sitting until the salty water washed over the tips of your toes. Ace recoiled and scrunched his face at the sudden weakness he felt, even if it was only for a moment. Ace seemed like he would be pulled in by the rising tide and sink down into the sea if you left him alone—not because of his weakness as a devil fruit user, but because of his oft-hidden weakness as a human. Even Ace was not immune to the endless pools of self-doubt.

So you put your hand on his shoulder, scooting closer to Ace to close the gap between the two of you, trying to ground him and prevent him from falling into the siren’s song of sadness. He thought about your words. Too kind to the point where you never want to be vulnerable. You keep people at arm’s length. Arm’s length is still pretty close, he always told himself. He turned to you and your face was mere inches away from his, brought closer by the hand that clung to his shoulder now. You were much closer than arm’s length. But for some reason, this time, it didn’t feel close enough.

“I know no one ever asks you this but, what’s wrong, Ace?”

He stared at his wet feet. “The sea takes my strength, y’know?” Of course you knew that. And of course he knew that that wasn’t what you were referring to.

“It’s always a surprise when the tide comes in, isn’t it?” He asked cryptically.

You frowned. Ace never spoke in riddles.

“Is it, though? We’re pirates, we know how the ocean works,” you reminded him.

“We know the tide will always rise and fall, but in the New World it’s a little more difficult to know exactly when.”

You hummed realizing that Ace was right. “It's constant, true, but it’s also constant change.” You stared at the ebb and flow of the water, falling into its visual rhythm.

“And as pirates, we’re always at the ocean’s mercy,” he added. It always surprised Ace when memories of the past washed over him, seemingly at the most unexpected and unwanted times.

You shook your head with a smile. “With the help of the wind, a trusty ship, and an able crew, we can defy even the roughest of waves.” This time, the seafoam seemed to form the faces of Luffy, of Whitebeard, of Marco, of you. “Without the ocean, how would we sail to all these islands and live the life we do? The ocean isn’t our enemy.”

Ace mentally cursed at himself for getting caught up in his thoughts and, dare he say it, regrets. Memories of the past, just like the tide, aren’t always out to get him, it seemed. The waves fell back into the ocean, suddenly much less threatening.

Ace let out a sigh of relief. He mentally thanked you for pulling him away from an ocean of spiraling thoughts. He should’ve known that you would leave the feast to look for him once as soon as you noticed he was gone. As much as he tried, there was no escaping you. Was there any point in still trying to? “It’s nice to have such a reliable crew,” Ace said coolly.

“It’s nice to have such a reliable commander,” you replied without missing a beat.

Maybe he would let himself be selfish, be vulnerable. Maybe he would share the weight of his past with you, little by little. He reached across his chest to place his hand over yours, your touch lingering on his shoulder. He was a fool for thinking he could keep you at arm’s length for forever. He drew in a deep breath, his brows furrowed, as if debating whether to speak. You squeezed his shoulder, reassuring him of your presence.

“Sabo,” he blurted out. “I had a brother named Sabo.” You raised your eyebrows, trying to process his sudden words. “The extra “S” in my tattoo is for him.”

“Had?” You asked. His dark eyes bore holes into yours. Full of life and depth, you couldn’t look away. You felt like you were at the ocean’s mercy. The bottomless urge to know and explore every part of it was pulling you in, more than ever before.

“He died when we were young. That’s why it’s crossed out.”

You gasped, recoiling away from him, pulling your hand away, his eyes narrowing almost immediately. “I’m so sorry for always teasing you about it. I shouldn’t-”

He tousled your hair and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Just like how the tide is bound to the shore, there was always an unseen pull between the two of you. With Ace’s words lingering in the salty air, that pull became more discernible. “No need to apologize. It always made me smile. I know for a fact that Sabo would’ve joined in on your jokes. He’d probably ask me why I bothered putting an ‘S’ in my name instead of getting an entirely separate tattoo,” he laughed.

You let out a sigh of relief. There it was. Your ears were filled with his rich laughter that washed away your worries— your worries about him and about accidentally hurting him. “Hmm…that would be a good question. You’re really not making a good case for yourself, Ace. You sure you didn’t come up with this excuse after you messed up your tattoo?” you playfully quipped.

“No! You don’t believe me?!”

You shook your head with a smile. “I believe in you. Always have, always will.” Ace watched you as you began to stand up, trying your best to dust off the sand on your legs.

“How can you say that?” Ace asked curiously, hugging his knees to his chest. He was thankful that you were no longer facing him, that you wouldn’t see him with his shoulders slouched, looking so small. Your eyes were fixed on the horizon across the vast surface of the ocean.

“Say what, exactly?”

“That you’ll always believe in me?”

You walked closer to the water, willingly letting the waves wash over your feet. “There’s nothing that you can do that will make me not believe in you,” you stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He stared at your back. He took in the way you so easily walked into the ocean that he thought was so dangerous before. “What if”, he paused, taking a deep breath, “what if it’s not what I do, but who I am?”

There it was again, you noticed, Ace speaking in riddles. “You’re you. That’s more than enough.”

“You’re saying all I gotta do is exist? And that’s…enough?”

You spoke to the merciless ocean: “You exist and I see you. All of you.” You turned around. Ace looked up at you, the sounds of the waves lapping seemed to be an echo of your words, as if the whole universe was trying to get through to him. You reached your hand out to his. Taking it, you pulled him up to his feet and dragged him closer to the water. Both of your ankles were completely submerged, but neither of you minded. Feeling some energy flee from his body, Ace felt weak, but was that such a bad thing? He squeezed your hand, the warmth of it standing in stark contrast to the shocking cold water around his feet. No, he concluded. Being vulnerable wasn’t so bad, especially when it was with you. Because you really did see all of him: the weak parts, the strong ones, and everywhere in between. “To see you is to always believe in you,” you whispered.

You brought your gaze back to the horizon and Ace followed suit. With your hand in his and the waves now lapping against his knees, he couldn’t help but feel gratitude. The merciful ocean had brought you to him, washing up on the shores when he needed you the most.

#one piece #one piece fan fiction #gn!reader #ace one piece #reader insert #one piece fanfiction #gender neutral reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader #ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #iz writes

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paperultra · 7 months

Text

prometheus.

Pairing: OPLA!Nami x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,717 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

mesmeric (adjective): appealing; drawing attention limerence (noun): the state of being infatuated with another person

The first time you see her, you think that perhaps you’ve had way too much to drink.

The tavern is crowded, loud, filthy, the countertops tacky with spilled booze, the music too sharp and the air too humid. Sweat covers your forehead the way condensation coats the outside of your glass; the drink inside sloshes over the top as your crewmates push and shove you around in your seat, their clamoring for more beer drowning out any semblance of a thought in your head.

Noise. Drunkenness. Celebration. It's everything a pirate could want after a successful raid.

You just want to go to sleep.

“Mind if I sit here?” The voice of your ship’s first mate cuts through the fog.

“Sure,” you mumble. Truth be told, you wouldn’t mind if a rabid grizzly took the neighboring stool right now. “You can have the rest of my drink, too.”

She laughs. You’ve never known the first mate to laugh, so you use what little of your strength is left to turn your head and look over at her.

Everything else in the crowded, loud, filthy tavern ceases to exist.

Sitting in the seat right next to you is the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She smiles at you, and it’s the kind of smile that follows hearty laughter, the kind that makes a person’s face glow and crinkles the corners of their eyes. Roughly chopped hair frames her face like untamed fire and her gaze feels like the ocean on a sunny day. She has freckles.

Your grip tightens on your glass. Mouth dry, you open it to speak, to apologize and ask if you could buy her a drink or several, but nothing comes out.

“Are you guys celebrating something?” the girl asks. “You sure filled up the place pretty quick.”

When she speaks, the chaos around the two of you rushes back into your ears. Blinking, you look around and pause at the sight of your captain and the shipwright sparring on top of one of the tables. Embarrassment flashes hotly through you as you glance back at the girl. (She’s still there.)

“Yeah,” you answer. “Treasure.”

Her eyebrows raise. “Oh? That’s definitely worth celebrating.” She slides her bottle over to clink it against your glass, then brings it to her lips; your heart thuds as she meets your eye from the corner of hers. “Tell me about it.”

You finish the rest of your cocktail and tell her.

When dawn broke this morning, the first mate had recognized another pirate ship sailing in the same direction as your own. She alerted the captain, who, itching to settle a personal score of which you had no details, ordered the crew to tail it. The rest of the morning and the entire afternoon was spent in a bloody chase-and-attack. Ultimately, your crew prevailed, and upon pillaging the other ship laid claim to a large pile of gold and silver.

You, being only one position removed from a lowly cabin girl, spent most of the time serving as cannon fodder. You don’t tell her that. The details are a bit foggy, anyway.

“That’s amazing. I’ve heard of you guys before, but I never thought I’d ever run into the whole crew,” the girl exclaims once you’re done recalling. “What’s your Jolly Roger look like again?”

“It’s …” All of a sudden, you draw a blank. Shit. “Um … oh, it has violet crossbones and a crack straight down the skull. I … I think …” You frown. “I should check.”

The girl grabs your shoulder and chuckles as you attempt to teeter off the stool, keeping you in place. Her firm grasp burns against your skin.

“I think you’re a little too drunk to wander off right now,” she chides while you steady yourself against the counter, your head going fuzzy for more than one reason. “You’re definitely right, anyway. I remember what it looks like now.”

“Okay.” The next thing you know, she’s standing up, letting go of your shoulder. You frown. “Where … where’re you going?”

“Just going to the bathroom. Watch my drink for me?”

She winks. You assure her that you will, but you break your promise the moment you make it, eyes fixed instead on the back of the girl’s head until the bright fire of her hair is finally lost in the crowd.

She never comes back.

(It’s almost dawn when your crew stumbles back to the ship, loose-limbed and completely exhausted. And as you drag yourself into your hammock, only partially sobered up, you think you hear somebody shriek that half the raid’s treasure is gone.)

(You just turn over and go to sleep.)

—

The second time you see her, it’s by accident.

You’re in town to buy candles and rope with the cabin girl, having been relegated to babysitting duty once again, but she somehow managed to slip away while you were walking through the market. You’ve been going in circles for the past half-hour trying to locate the damn kid.

“Genie!” You narrowly avoid a stack of cages with chickens in them – the cook will probably get some, you figure – and cup your hands around your mouth, pushing against the flow of foot traffic. “Genie, you little brat –”

Someone bumps your shoulder as they pass by. You feel a weight leave the belt loop of your pants.

The money.

Fuck.

Whipping around, you spot a flash of navy-blue polka dots just as they disappear into the throng of people. Genie gets shoved to the back of your mind as you immediately set off in pursuit.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Nobody else seems to care as you squeeze in between bodies and boxes, jumping over stray dogs and shouting after the thief. It’s your fault, after all. You were thoughtless with how you carried the money.

(Or maybe they can tell you’re a small-time pirate, greedy and violent, and have concluded that you got what you deserved. You are not a person to be feared and certainly not one to step aside for.)

After what seems to be an eternity, you manage to break out of the crowd, promptly stumbling over a broken brick in the road. Sweat drips down your back and sticks to your blouse as you catch a glimpse of polka dots vanishing into a nearby alleyway.

You’re screwed if the captain finds out you got robbed.

Sprinting into the alley, you leap at the thief, grabbing them by the collar of their shirt just as they begin to scale the wall.

“Oi,” you snarl, spinning them around, “who the hell do you think you –"

A face that you thought you’d never see again stares back at you, and the rest of your sentence breaks off in your throat.

The girl from the tavern takes the opportunity to knee you in the stomach and twist away. But you’re stronger, and you’ve felt worse; instinctively, you move behind her and wrap an arm around her neck, holding tight while your other hand slips behind to prevent her from headbutting you. Her hands shoot up and her nails dig painfully into your skin.

“Let go of me!” she orders through gritted teeth, kicking at you.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, thoughts running a thousand miles a minute. “Just give me back my money.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know you.”

You grit your teeth. There’s no doubt in your mind, and you know that there’s no doubt in hers. “You ran away after taking my bag.”

“I didn’t take anything. You started yelling and chasing after me out of nowhere.”

“Why would you run if you didn’t take it?”

“You’re a pirate,” she hisses. “Of course I would run.”

“How do you know I’m a pirate?” you ask.

The girl stills for a mere second. It’s enough to feel her inhale against your chest, your nose nearly pressed against the cap that she’d tucked her orange hair underneath.

“I can just tell,” she mutters. Her tone is so bitter, so hateful that you can taste it. “All pirates are the same.”

Your arms begin to bleed.

You open your mouth to protest. You want to argue that she’s wrong – you aren’t the same, you’re not bloodthirsty or greedy like your captain, your first instinct isn’t to hurt people to get what you want.

But to say that now, with your arm around her throat, unwilling to let go under the pretense of demanding money that isn’t even yours to begin with? Even you recognize the hypocrisy. That bitterness and hatred is directed at you too.

You let go of her, jaw clenched.

“Sorry,” you mutter. You release her and step away. She steps back as well, eyeing you warily, and the muffled sound of coins clinking together reaches your ears. You don’t so much as direct your gaze towards the source. “I must’ve mixed you up with the thief somehow.”

She scoffs. “Yeah.”

(So she’s committing to the bit until the very end.)

You take one last look at her. Her stony expression, so different from the smiling, pleasant one you can only recall through a haze from three months ago, sinks into your memory and settles there with purpose.

“Have a nice day,” you say.

You turn on your heel, fingers brushing over the trail of bloody crescents she had left on your arm, and leave the alleyway for good.

—

The third time you see her, you know it’s fate.

You’re at a different tavern, on a different island, for a different reason. The patrons are elderly and sparse in number, and they like to brag about how they can still drink you under the table. There’s no music and the countertops are kept clean.

When they walk in, it’s almost the end of your shift – you’re sweeping underneath the corner table for the second time and hear them before you turn around.

“Ah, great! I’m starving.”

“You ate just before we disembarked.”

“And I’ll eat afterwards too!”

You suppress a snort, dragging your broom around the table’s base. Grey will be happy with these customers, for sure. More dishes bring more work, but they also bring more beri.

A girl speaks next. “If you have the money for twenty servings of meat, go right ahead, Luffy.”

Your grip tightens around the broom handle until your knuckles crack.

The crumbs on the floor completely forgotten, you turn around, slowly, carefully, and fire fills your vision once again.

It stares back at you, eyes wide, lips parted. Her fingers twitch at her sides.

Fate, surely.

“Hello!” says the boy on her right, the one in an odd straw hat. “We’re here to eat.”

You take in a breath.

“Hi,” you rasp, heart squeezing in your chest, making itself known for the first time in a year. “You can take a seat anywhere.”

The girl nods, the movement deliberate and cautious. Three of the people with her furrow their brows at you, but the straw hat simply jaunts to a table in the center and sits down, prompting them to break their gazes and follow behind him.

You finish sweeping to collect yourself, then head over with a notepad and a pen.

“What can I get for you guys?”

They each give you their drink of choice. The straw hat then rattles off a number of dishes, seeming to have completely forgotten the girl’s earlier warning, and you note them down the best you can.

“Okay.” You repeat the order, receiving satisfied grunts upon reciting it correctly. “Anything else?”

The blond-haired man shoots you a crooked smirk. “Just your wonderful presence, miss,” he tells you with a wink.

You stand awkwardly.

“… Thank you,” you reply after some time, not sure how else to respond. “My shift ends soon, though.”

The green-haired man and the guy in the bandana do little to hide their snorts. The blond-haired man clears his throat, murmuring a soft ‘oh, how unfortunate’ with a disappointed smile, and says that they’ll make do with the wonderful drinks and meals that are sure to come.

Well, that’s that.

You begin to head to the kitchen when the girl’s voice rings out behind you, halting you in your steps.

“When’s the end of your shift?”

You don’t dare to look over your shoulder. “In thirty minutes.”

“Do you mind waiting around for a little while afterward?” she asks, and it’s a question, not an order.

“I don’t mind,” you say. It’s the answer you would’ve given either way.

—

The girl’s name is Nami. Wave. You wonder if she knows the violence with which she’d crashed into the tiny island of your life.

She sits across from you at the table in the corner, just far enough away from her comrades to not be eavesdropped on, though you suspect they’ll try their best. She cocks her head to the side and her eyes narrow at you.

“The eyepatch is new,” she finally says.

“It came with my resignation.”

“You left your crew?”

“Yeah.”

You avert your gaze. A frown graces Nami’s face.

“What brought you here?” The suspicion in her tone is almost imperceptible, but it’s there.

“This is my hometown. I came back about two months ago to save up for the time being.”

“Save up for what?”

“I don’t know. Another adventure, I guess.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Why did you talk to me at the bar?”

“Because you seemed like a soft touch,” Nami replies.

Ouch. That stings your pride a bit. The fact that she had known that from the very beginning makes you wonder what else she knows.

“Why did you steal from me in Wolftown?”

“Because I knew you were a pirate.” She leans forward in her chair, arms crossed over the table. “Why did you let me go?”

You swallow.

“I … wanted to prove you wrong,” you tell her. Tracing a long scratch on the table, you don’t tell her that you’ve thought about her words every morning while at sea, the disgust that fell so easily from her tongue, or that they fell from your own as you clutched your eye socket and spat at your captain’s feet. “But you ended up being right in the end.”

“… Oh,” Nami says.

She shifts in her seat. Her attention turns briefly to the group of men still sitting at their table – they are watching, not even trying to be subtle – and she worries her lower lip, contemplative, before turning back to you.

“Not all pirates … are the same,” she admits softly. “I was wrong.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. You sit quietly while she speaks with a strange conviction.

“There are good ones. Not a lot, but some. Maybe you were one of them.”

You glance at her friends. Understanding dawns upon you, and it’s envy and gladness all at the same time.

“I don’t think I was,” you finally say. “But I’m happy you found some.”

She huffs out a laugh. It’s clear and present and genuine. “They found me. I didn’t have a choice.”

You grin, cheeks warming under the sun of her smile and hands folded on the edge of the table as the two of you chuckle together.

“Nami.” Her name burns your lips and washes over them once the amusement dies down. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Surprise flickers across Nami’s face.

She blinks once, not speaking for a moment, and you realize that you’ve made a mistake for the umpteenth time. However, just when you’re about to backtrack and leave the tavern never to return, the girl reaches out across the table towards you.

(Three years from now, you will stand on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, and Nami will tell you that she thought about you everyday after the incident in the alleyway. And you will laugh, and kiss her, and say that you’ve thought about her every day since the night she robbed your old pirate ship. The pains of the past will only be a faint scar.)

(But for now, you sit across from each other and smile.)

“Sure,” she murmurs. “I’d like that.”

#aesthetic words prompt list #opla #one piece #nami x reader #opla nami #nami #one piece live action #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #fem!reader #nami: give me your money #reader: cash or credit #man she's kinda hard to write for !! worth it though. love me some all-consuming pining

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soulofapatrick · 5 months

Text

Scarlet Temptations - Shanks x Reader

Summary: You find your way onto the Red Force to find Shanks' crew mid party which leads to some confessions from Shanks

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: None

Y/N’s POV

As I set foot on the deck of the legendary Red Force, the scene unfolds before me like a vivid painting brought to life. The air thrums with the harmonious medley of lively music and carefree laughter. Lanterns, adorned with intricate patterns, sway gently in the breeze, casting a warm, ethereal glow that dances across the deck. The vibrant attire of the pirates is a sight to behold—each outfit a kaleidoscope of colours that whirl and twirl with every movement. They move with a contagious energy, embracing the night with a fervour that seems to defy the boundaries of the open sea.

And there he is, amidst the jubilant chaos, Shanks stands tall and commanding, yet there’s a different air about him tonight. His usually serious countenance is softened by a smile, his laughter blending seamlessly with he joyful tunes echoing through the air. As I stand there, enraptured by the spectacle of Shanks and his crew revealing in the festivities, I can’t help but admire the way he seamlessly merges with the joyous atmosphere. He moves with a grace that belies his stature, effortlessly engaging in the lively dance that envelops the deck.

His laughter, infectious and genuine, resonates across the ship, drawing others into the whirl of merriment. I watch as he twirls a crewmate around, sharing a joke that elicits hearty laughs from those around them. There’s an undeniable warmth in the way he interacts with everyone, a genuine camaraderie that speaks volumes about the respect he commands.

Caught in the rhythm of movement, shanks suddenly stumbles mid-step, his gaze shifting through the crowd until his eyes lock onto mine. A glint of recognition sparks within those deep, espresso eyes, and without hesitation, he gracefully navigates his way through the dances until he stands before me.

“Ah, there you are!” His voice, carrying a blend of amusement and genuine delights, cuts through the music. With a playful grin, he extends a hand, inviting me to join in the dance, “Care to join me for a dance?”

Caught off guard by Shanks’ unexpected invitation, I feel a surge of both excitement and hesitation. His hand extended, the music pulsating around us, I can’t help but hesitate, a shy smile tugging at my lips.

“Ahh, I don’t know Shanks,” I stammer, glancing around at the lively dancers, feeling a mixture of nerves and exhilaration

But Shanks, ever persistent and full of infectious enthusiasm, doesn’t take no for an answer. With a gentle yet firm tug, he insists, “Come onnn, it’s all in good fun! Trust me, you’ll enjoy it!”

Before I can protest further, he pulls me gently but decisively into the heart of the dance floor, his infectious laughter mingling with the music. At first, I feel self-conscious, my movements hesitant and unsure amidst the whirl of experienced dancers. Yet, Shanks’ encouraging grin and the vibrant atmosphere begin to work their magic. His easy confidence is contagious, and soon, I find myself swaying to the rhythm, the initial hesitation giving way to a growing sense of enjoyment.

As we move, Shanks’ guiding hand offers reassurance, guiding me through the steps with a patience that surprises me. His presence is both reassuring and exhilarating, a mix of warmth and strength that envelopes me in a cocoon of comfort. With every twist and step, the music seems to weave a connection between us, breaking down barriers in its infectious melody. And as the dance reaches its peak, any lingering reservations melt away, replaced by a sense of pure exhilaration and joy.

The dance crescendos and the music wraps around us like a vibrant embrace. Shanks’ movements become fluid, guiding me effortlessly through the steps as if we’re engaged in an intricate duet. His touch, gentle yet firm, sends a shiver down my spine, awakening a sensation I hadn’t expected.

In a graceful swirl, he draws me closer, our bodies aligning in perfect rhythm. His chest presses against mine, his warmth seeping through the thin barrier of our clothes. The closeness makes my heart quicken, a nervous fluter rising within me.

Shanks, ever the playful charmer, leans in, his breath teasingly close to my ear, “You’re a natural on the dance floor,” he murmurs, his voice a husky whisper that sends a jolt of heat through me. His lips graze against the shell of my ear, sending a thrill down my spine, “Or maybe it’s just the company.”

A blush blooms across my cheeks as his playful flirtation catches me off guard. His proximity is electrifying, and I find myself pressing my hands flat against his firm chest, a futile attempt to steady myself amidst the whirlwind of sensations. His laughter rumbles against me, the sound infectious and carefree, “You’re blushing.” He observes with a hint of amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans back slightly, his gaze locking with mine.

Caught in his gaze, I can’t help but feel both flustered and captivated. There’s a magnetic pull in the air, a tension that crackles between us, undeniable and exhilarating. The lively music fading into a softer melody, Shanks drawing me closer again, a playful glint in his eyes, “Another dance, perhaps?”

Unable to resist the pull of his charisma, I nod in agreement, allowing him to draw me into the gentle sway of the slower rhythm,. The atmosphere changes, the energy now replaced with a more intimate ambiance that envelops us like a warm embrace. Our movements synchronise effortlessly, a silent understanding guiding us through the graceful steps. As the dance progresses, a newfound ease settles between us, the tension from earlier transforming into a subtle connection that seems to deepen with every passing moment.

Caught in the intimacy of the dance, I find myself drawn to the enigmatic scars that adorn Shanks' left eye. With a hesitant yet curious touch, my fingers trace the three distinct marks, the texture rough against my fingertips. It's a silent acknowledgment of the battles fought and the stories untold, a gesture of both reverence and curiosity. Shanks' gaze lingers on me, a mixture of surprise and a subtle vulnerability flickering in his eyes at the unexpected touch. Yet, he doesn't pull away, allowing the moment to unfold between us.

In that tender exchange, our closeness feels like a delicate dance of understanding and unspoken words. His surprise at my touch gives way to a soft vulnerability, a fleeting glimpse behind the veil of the enigmatic pirate captain. As my fingertips trace the rugged path of his scars, the world around us seems to fade into a hushed sanctuary, leaving just the quiet rhythm of our breathing. Shanks' gaze, intense and searching, holds mine captive, as if inviting me to explore the depths of his untold tales.

Unexpectedly, Shanks leans in closer, our noses brushing lightly, causing a rush of laughter to escape both us the shared moment washing away any hint of unease. It’s a lighthearted exchange, a dance of proximity that sparks a carefree joy between us.

Amidst the laughter, Shanks’ voice, a gentle murmur, breaks the fleeting silence, “You’re… you’re ethereal,” he breathes out, the sincerity in his tone wrapping around us like a gentle breeze. His words carry a weight of admiration, tinged with a hint of wonder, leaving me speechless.

Before I can even gather my thoughts, Shanks closes the remaining distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a tender and fleeting kiss. It’s a moment suspended in time, the touch of is lips against mine, a blend of warmth and promise. There’s a raw authenticity to the connection, an unspoken understanding that transcends words, leaving only the soft brush of our lips and the shared heartbeat between us. It's a brief yet poignant exchange, carrying with it the unspoken promise of a story yet to unfold.

In that suspended moment, the air crackles with an electric charge, and as our lips part, a gentle smile plays on Shanks' features, his eyes reflecting a myriad of unspoken emotions. His vulnerability echoes through the faintest quiver of his lips, resonating with an unspoken invitation. Drawn inexplicably closer, my fingers instinctively thread through the soft strands of his crimson hair. With a gentle yet firm tug, I guide Shanks' face back towards mine, the unexpected pull drawing a deep, guttural sound from him—a mixture of surprise and a raw, primal response to the sensation of his hair being tugged.

The kiss that follows is fervent and impassioned, a collision of longing and restraint that sets my heart ablaze. His lips are soft yet possess an underlying intensity that ignites a fire within me. There's a dance of fervour and tenderness in the way his lips mold against mine, each kiss a whispered promise of uncharted territories.

As our embrace deepens, I feel the gentle touch of his hand on the small of my back, his touch warm and reassuring. His right hand, the only one he has, finds a natural resting place, cradling the curve of my waist with a tender yet possessive hold. The sensation of his kisses is an intoxicating blend—a symphony of desire and reverence. Each touch of his lips against mine sends a cascade of sensations through me, evoking a sense of longing and connection that feels both exhilarating and comforting.

Amidst the fervent exchange, a wave of emotions surges through me, a whirlwind of desire and an unspoken understanding. Shanks' kisses feel like an exploration of uncharted territory, each touch leaving an indelible mark on my soul, a testament to the depth of our connection.

In that stolen moment, with the world fading away and the only reality being the touch of our lips and the intertwining of our souls, I find myself lost in the enchanting dance of passion and intimacy, completely ensnared by the enigmatic allure of the man known as Shanks.

“Come on,” His voice is husky as he parts enough to whisper, “I want you in my cabin now.”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

One Piece Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

#shanks #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #shanks smut #shanks fluff #shanks x y/n #shanks angst #shanks one piece #one piece fluff #one piece smut #one piece #one piece shanks #one piece x reader #peter gadiot #opla!shanks x reader #opla!shanks

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