Jareth Abe Bishop Data And Spock Headcanons With An So Who Loves To Make Them Flower Crowns/put Flowers

Chris Evans as Ari Levinson in The Red Sea Diving Resort (2019)

Mirkwood family cuddling in bed time! With Elithien watching over her boys. 

Snug Fit

Din Djarin/the Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: SMUT/18+, minors DNI

Tags/themes: sub/dom dynamic, pussyjob, thighjob, trapped, frotting and grinding

Summary: Technical issues arise when mid-flight aboard the Razorcrest and as you try to solve the issue at hand, Din gets all too close and your bodies become trapped in the small electrical unit, pressed against one another.

A/N: this is my first time posting any fan fiction to tumblr or any platform really,,,,, I’ve written smut before for personal enjoyment though lmao but yeah,,,, I hope you all enjoy, and please give me feedback!! (Also apologies if I missed any grammatical/spelling errors, I did try to proof read tho)✨💫

“Wait, Din, I’m fine in here, just don’t— wait— stop, you’ll get stuck!”

Sometimes you wished you had never boarded the Razorcrest all those months ago. Today was one of those days.

You shifted yourself in front of the Mandalorian who now also invaded the small space of one of the electrical units aboard the ‘Crest, attempting to manoeuvre yourself out of the cramped room. The electrical wiring system for the engine output regulations aboard the Mandalorian’s Razorcrest ship had short-circuited mid-flight as you both headed to the outer-rim planet of Tatooine, and, upon becoming the ship’s mechanic all those weeks ago, you immediately descended from the cockpit of the ship to attempt to resolve the issue. You just didn’t expect it to be so complex. And it didn’t help that your shipmate Din was now invading the already cramped area in a misconstrued attempt to assist you.

“You said you needed help,”

Din’s cold and modulated voice spoke out from under the beskar helmet he wore.

“Yes, help. Not for you to trap me in the room! I just needed a couple of tools, and now— dank farrik— were stuck in here!”

You snapped back harshly, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle towards the exit of the small space to at least reach your toolbox.

Originally, you had managed to solve the issue somewhat alone, however when you needed your pliers from the toolbox, but were hesitant let go of the wrench you held in your other hand, you had called out to the infamous beskar-clad Mandalorian warrior for assistance. However, being the stoic and stubborn man you soon discovered the infamous Mando to be, your request for help with tools became misinterpreted in the bounty hunter’s frustrated state, still feeling inconvenienced by his ship’s shortcomings despite your presence to try and solve the issue. Hence, Din had invaded the space also, the both of you now becoming trapped in the tight space, immovable and pressing snugly against each other. If you were not so distracted, perhaps it would feel intimate. Almost as intimate as other touches the two of you have shared in the low lights of the ship’s cargo bay.

It wasn’t always easy for both of you aboard the ship though, the two of you distrusting of each other for weeks and lacking in conversation. However soon enough the Mandalorian and yourself began to bond, particularly over your shared fascination with weaponry, but also your now shared responsibility and compassion for the imperial target and precious green child, Grogu. Over time, the three of you became an inseparable team, exchanging experiences and moments of care and domestic intimacy and even true names, as you even had the privilege of learning the usually-cold and unassuming warrior’s name; the Mandalorian revealed his name to be Din, only to you.

However, it was times like these, sandwiched between the muddled wall of wires along the electrical unit room and the Mandalorian warrior’s cold beskar and rigid limbs, that you merrily willed yourself to die. After all, whilst you would never admit it, even despite the all-too-intimate and brooding touches you shared with Din in the dark of the night, such as a caress of your hip or a stroke of Din’s bicep, you overall had developed deep-rooted feelings for the Mandalorian, often finding yourself blushing and longing for touches further than those brief moments in passing. Therefore, such emotions made being pushed so close up against Din’s form all the more unbearable, your cheeks beginning to flush and breathing hitching in your throat as you felt his body somewhat enclose around yours as he reached around to attempt to fix the wires you had tended to just moments prior.

“W-wait, I can fix it Din. I just need to hold the yellow wire still w-whilst I place the fuse wire back in the correct output port,”

You somewhat stutter out, moving your arms slightly to hinder the movements of the Mandalorian behind you but losing your previous assertive aggression the more your mind took note of how Din’s beskar moulded to your back and thighs as you both winded up pressed flush against each other. You could feel the way Din’s helmet began to lay heavy on your shoulder he leaned over you to observe the problem at hand once more, your now somewhat shaky hands grasping at the wires, attempting to place them in the correct output ports.

“Let me help, I can hold the red one out of the way while you plug the yellow back in,”

Din’s cool, modulated voice rang out softly behind you, causing your face to blush somewhat as he shifted around you once more to try and hold the wires in front of your chest.

Despite his innocent and earnest efforts, your body held pressed against his own further as you once more hindered such endeavours, seeking to solve the problem alone and also therefore in the process hinder any further touches.

“S-stop shifting so much, Y/N. Let me help you,”

The Mandalorian’s voice spoke out once more, irritation and an octave of another emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint in your blushing state laced throughout his usual calm baritone.

“W-wait, j-just let me do it. I nearly had it until you moved,”

You responded harshly, yet stuttering slightly as you felt his body attempting to manoeuvre itself once more but only succeeding in inadvertently pushing harder against your hips and back.

You began to shift yourself somewhat, body subconsciously tensing and shuddering with desire and heat as you felt Din’s armour and muscular form push against your body roughly as he tried some more to hinder your own movements now, you assumed to still your hinderances to his efforts to help. Defiantly, somewhat frustrated that Din seemingly didn’t trust you to fix the issue at hand and equally beginning to inwardly enjoy the friction and heat between your two bodies, you wriggled against Din, attempting to manoeuvre yourself into a position where you could better grasp the wires on the wall given the cramped conditions.

Then you heard it.

At first you thought you were caught up in some twisted sexual delusion spawned by your dirty mind and secret thoughts, as your ears pricked up at the sound of a strangled yet quiet groan by your right ear emerging from the helmet which sat upon your neighbouring shoulder. However your body’s wriggling motions were stilled suddenly as Din’s firm, gloved hands grasped desperately at your hips, halting you completely as he sighed with what sounded like aching relief.

“I said... don’t move so much, Y/N,”

Din managed out, his voice now sounding much more on edge than previously, once again the familiar sound of a slightly groan (of which was so quiet you would’ve missed had there been more space between you both) sounding out by your ear as his body absent-mindedly pushed further against your own.

“Maker, I just wanted to help...”

Mando again began but let his words trail of with a sigh as his hands gripped your hips further, drawing a gasp of embarrassed but desperate pleasure and shock from you.

And then you felt it.

Suddenly, at your sigh of unexpected heat and lust, you felt something hard and girthy twitch between your slightly parted legs as the beskar-clad warrior’s fingertips twitched at your hips. Since when did Mando wear a codpiece?

Oh.

Your entire face bloomed a shade of crimson one would have never thought possible as you sighed out unsteadily and somewhat helplessly under your breath as the reality of the situation dawned on you and heat began to crash over you in delicious waves of sinful, unadulterated desire. Din was hard. Din was hard because of you. Because you had writhed so much against him in this god forsaken electrical unit. He was throbbing. Aching.

Experimentally yet ashamedly, your body somewhat moved on its own accord, pushing further backwards into Din’s own, your plump ass, of which was only covered by the thin fabric of your tunic and panties, somewhat grinding backwards into Din’s aching and throbbing erection. The warrior behind you appeared to somewhat growl lowly as he stilled you once more with a harsh grip tugging at your hips.

“D-Din, I— are you—?”

You cautiously began to sigh out as your body’s heat and desire rippled through your abdomen and core like a scorching flame, beginning to question if Din really was hard, and more importantly if he was really going to do this with you right here. Perhaps all those brief touches and longing glances aboard the ship had gotten to him just as much as they had you. However ultimately you were interrupted when Din’s voice cut you off, rasping and low, responding to your unanswered questions as though he could read your mind, stating,

“I’m fixing the problem here.”

The ambiguous answer and low tone of his voice had your head spinning with further questions and heady desire as Din’s hands wandered upwards, snaking up and around your waist in front of your chest, wavering in between your breasts and the wiring wall. Just as you opened your mouth to attempt to confirm whether or not Din was primarily seeking to first resolve the wiring issue, a shocked whimper and gasp escaped your swollen lips as Din’s gloved hands pawed hungrily at your still-clothed chest.

“Cyare... so soft,”

Din groaned out from over your shoulder as his hips began to grind into your own, his clothed but rock hard cock rubbing deliciously in between your thighs as the fabric of your tunic shifted naturally out of the way of his hips’ path.

All you could do was but moan out his name in desperation and shock as your body quivered under his desperate groping and touches.

Somewhat hastily, completely lost to the his desires and his conscience suitably blurred, Din began to shift his hands to free his leaking and desperate cock from its confines behind you and shift your tunic and panties out of his way as best he could given the cramped conditions. You gasped as the cool air hit your dripping wet core.

Din appeared to chuckle darkly, the first time you’d heard him laugh in a few days, as he spoke to your right ear lowly,

“If you hadn’t have moved so much, we wouldn’t be stuck like this now Meshla.”

You whimpered weakly at the Mandalorian’s words as you felt his long hard dick position itself between your thighs teasingly, gliding along your wet pussy lips and soft, trembling thighs as Din’s hips’ movements resumed and his grasp at your hips retook it’s place, his grinding resuming. You gasped and quivered and moaned helplessly below Din as his cock glided teasingly yet deliciously against your achingly desperate core, the head of his cock violating your swollen clit with sinful ease. Your mind was blurring and blanking as you gripped the wall in front of you to steady yourself against Din’s harsh snapping of his hips, your entire body quivering and melting beneath the beskar-clad bounty hunter’s ministrations. Oh, how you could’ve only dreamed of such outlandish and sinful situations just hours ago. Although despite such heat and desperate pleasure completely taking over all sense of your mind and power of your body, admittedly Din was feeling just as desperately pleasurable and euphoric as he savoured the feeling of your dripping wet pussy lubricating his cock and your thighs as he used your body to milk his cock to approach his climax.

“N-ner meshla— Maker— you feel so good like this,”

Din began, completely lost to his euphoria and pleasure as his cock throbbed between your pussy and thighs and his voice drabbled and groaned out strings of Mando’a and curses.

Equally, your own mind and body completely melted and unravelled beneath Din as his cock stimulated your dripping wet pussy with such calculated and delicious sensations, the sliding and friction and rubbing of your aching bud causing you to whine out his name like a mantra as your walls clenched around nothing. Both your bodies were pushing against each other in an animalistic drive towards your mutual climax.

“Cyarika, do you like this? You’re— Ka’ra— you’re so loud... I-I was going to fuck you, but I might just finish with you like this,”

Din groaned and breathed out possessively as his hips picked up speed further and stuttered as you moaned and arched into him.

Despite the lack of penetration, the combined experience of being so close to the shipmate you had daydreamed of, his outlandish words of his mother tongue that dripped with sexual desire, and the perfectly aligned movements of the Mandalorian’s hips and cock against your body made you writhe in sheer pleasure desperately against him even in such an already tight area as you begged and moaned out unashamedly for Din now, groaning,

“D-Din! Aah, Maker it feels a good! Please, more!”

The sound of your begging and desperate whimpers as you raced ever closer to your climax caused Din’s hips to stutter and snap even rougher towards you, the feeling of your thighs and pussy sandwiching his cock so divinely causing him to groan and grip at your hips even more desperately, approaching his own end equally as rapidly.

“Ner Meshla, I’m gonna cum all over you— so good,”

Din’s lips allowed him to spill and growl out such words out with a particularly rough thrust that had you seeing stars as his cock shifted divinely against your wet and swollen clit.

You were so close to you climax that if you weren’t so caught up in all of the sensations that overwhelmed your quivering body perhaps you would be embarrassed. However, you could practically feel the way Din’s chest heaved beneath his armour and the way his breath hitched and became caught up in moans and grunts as his cock throbbed between your thighs and it became increasingly evident you were both approaching the heavenly peak of your pleasure.

Your whole body practically shuddered and your eyes rolled back heavenly when you felt gloved fingertips reach up to twist your pebbles nipples beneath your thin tunic, and suddenly you felt your entire body crashing over the edge from the overwhelming stimulation, Din’s ever-grinding cock beckoning your body to release onto him.

“Cyare, release for me,”

The Mandalorian’s vocoded but groaning voice demanded in your ear as his hips uncontrollably pistoned between your own and stuttered uncontrollably as he felt himself equally unravelling and tensing at his own peak.

That’s what did it for you as your whole body convulsed, arched and moaned against the beskar-clad warrior’s own, your release stronger than any you had granted yourself recently as you felt your lower region grow embarrassingly wet but your mind blank and blur with white-hot heat and pure ecstasy.

Din soon followed suit, his hands returning to your hips as he thrust forth against the soft, warm and wet skin of your thighs and pussy as he released his seed against your skin and partially onto the wall, groaning out possessive names in Mando’a in a such a desperately strangled octave that likened itself to a heavenly melody to you. Breathing stuttering and panting between you both, you both supported each other’s weight in your post-release afterglow, processing the euphoric but equally shockingly spontaneous sexual encounter in your minds.

Suddenly, the ship’s cargo bay lit up somewhat brighter with re-ignited power as the electrical unit’s interface before your face in the now heated, cramped room now unexpectedly read:

‘All output systems regulated. Maintenance issue resolved’

Your face twisted in confusion as you wondered how you could’ve possibly fixed the ships wiring issue during all of the prior moments yourself and Din just shared. Then it hit you like a brick wall, as you began to realise in all your shuddering movements and heavenly driving towards pleasure, the two of you must’ve knocked the misplaced wires back into the correct areas and output ports. Smirking somewhat, you panted out to the Mandalorian whose body still pressed closely against yours,

“Look, I fixed the problem after all.”

However, chuckling into your right ear as his helmet still remained perched atop your shoulder, Din slyly responded,

“I fixed the other growing problem we were having- it’s called teamwork.”

You blushed somewhat, remembering how you caused the Mandalorian’s and your own arousal in such a sticky situation, of which ironically was now even stickier as the warrior’s cum still inched down your thighs.

“W-wait, Din... how are we actually going to get out of here now?”

You suddenly questioned, all too aware of the awkward positioning you know both found yourselves stuck in, snugly yet all-too-intimately slotted against each other’s like a bizarre jigsaw puzzle.

All you were met with was silence.

This was going to be interesting.

A happy birthday indeed~

roronoa zoro; 21,051 words (not including epilogue), fluff and angst, ENEMIES!!! to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, canon-normal violence, on-page description of injury, excessive use of flashbacks, some banter, healing from trauma, baroque works!reader to strawhat!reader, no "y/n", emotionally constipated!zoro, hurt and comfort, angst with a happy ending; (epilogue tags will be posted separately)

summary: in which neither you nor zoro are the children you remember each other to be.

update: new chapters will be posted on @shouyuus!!!

a/n: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!! i honestly cannot believe i actually finished writing this lmfao. but anyway, this post will act as a table of contents/masterlist of sorts, and i will update links to the separate chapters as they go up. chapters will be posted every few days (but they are all done! except for the epilogue LOL). i've tagged everyone who has req-ed to be tagged in this series so far on this prologue post, but if you wish to be tagged for the upcoming chapters and you're not already on this fics specific taglist, please comment below to be added! and without further ado -- here we go!

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: someone, somewhere

chapter one: a shadow of the past

chapter two: tell no tales

chapter three: sleep of the living, dreams of the dead

chapter four: another life

chapter five: true love's kiss

epilogue: la petite mort (nsfw)

prologue: someone, somewhere

He remembers you most as a child, in halcyon images and gold-limned flashes of his own childhood memories, the edges blurring watercolor soft, but the center (always you) carved in knife-sharp relief.

You were one of the few children that lived in Shimotsuki Village who hadn’t come from the doujou — one of the few children he knew that (at least to the best of his knowledge) had a thing called family. A mother to braid your hair, a father to chase the darkness away, a warm bed and a kitchen that always smelled of freshly made rice. And perhaps it was jealousy, or some other more complicated emotion that had been then too big to name with one single word, but he’d never gone out of his way to befriend you like the other kids from the doujou did — fascinated as they were by your soft hands and round cheeks and the bright, glittering array of homemade sweets you’d bring with you once every couple of weeks.

He’d learn later on that it was because Shimotsuki-sensei had saved your father’s life at some point in time; the story now lost to the annals of legend and withering memory, but back then, he’d only assumed it was the natural way of things. Of waking up for kata practice and then settling in for lunch, and then maybe, if it was to be a good day, you, with your basket of sweets and your blue-bell laughter.

And perhaps this is why, years later, when he meets you again in a dark, nameless village tavern, he doesn’t recognize you — not at first. Because you’d looked so different. Gone was the roundness in your cheeks, or the natural star-bright light in your eyes. Gone, too, were the bright braids that your hair had always been set in — he remembers so clearly, watching the other boys from the doujou jab their fingers into the rings of your pinned up braids, pulling down just to hear you squeak. He hadn’t said anything then, stupidly thinking him above it all, watching as you tried to jerk away, but laughing when the boys finally relented with half-hearted apologies.

You always threatened to take their sweets away; you never did, in the end.

But there, then, in that tiny tavern, you’d been thin, your hair dark as an oil spill, loose and inky as it cascades over your shoulders, your eyes lightless as the windows to an abandoned house — the hollowness made all the more visceral by the light he knew once inhabited them. The way loneliness is always more potent when coming back to it, the second time around.

He wanders up to the bar, slates you a glance before rapping his knuckles on the worn wood to catch the bartender’s attention.

“I’ll have beer and a refill of whatever the lady’s having.”

You shift slightly, shoulders hunching towards your ears.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you say, shifting to shield your face from his gaze.

Zoro cocks his head, tossing a few Berry towards the bartender as they set down a stein of beer and a champagne flute to replace the one in front of you.

“Can’t a guy buy a girl a drink?” Zoro asks, rolling his shoulders as he reaches out for his beer. You eye him warily.

“Not for a guy that’s been tracking me for three weeks straight.”

Zoro hums, thumb poised on the hilt of his swords.

“We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

You reach out to run a forefinger along the rim of the thin champagne flute before swirling it once by the base. You watch the bubbles fizzle before leaning in to take a dainty sip.

“And they say chivalry is dead…” you murmur, almost too softly for him to hear. Zoro scoffs, allowing himself a twinge of a smirk before his mouth falls flat.

“You let me track you for three whole weeks.”

There’s no question in his words, only a harsh, accusatory certainty.

You lick your lips, leaning back in your stool, tugging your glass of champagne with you.

“Maybe I wanted the company.”

“Or maybe… you wanted me to follow you here.”

Every muscle in his body is tense, drawn taut as a tightrope, coiled tight as a spring.

You sigh, twisting a single lock of your hair around a finger, examining the ends as if looking for split hairs.

Then, quick as a flash, you’re at each other’s throats — him with a sword poised at your jugular, you with a knife pressed against his stomach.

“One move —” you warn, digging the knife slightly further into his skin. Distinctly, Zoro feels the pressure slice through his thick linen shirt, the cool kiss of the blade against his abdomen. And he’s killed enough by now to know that you’ve picked a major artery — one that would hurt, and take minutes for him bleed out. Just long enough for him to suffer, but not enough to get help.

The edge of his mouth ticks upward — not bad.

It’s then, in the infinitesimal flicker of your eyes meeting his, that he realizes who you are.

He nearly topples back, jerking away slightly with the revelation. Your eyes go wide, jolted by his sudden movement. But he’s quick enough to evade the sharp jab of your knife and a second later, you’re on either ends of the tavern, drawn blades and bared teeth.

“Y-you!” the word rips from Zoro like an unripe scab, thick and hard and still bloody underneath.

You lick your lips, eyes narrowing to slits beneath your long, lanky hair.

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

“The hell you don’t.”

“Oi! No fighting in the bar!” the barkeep’s voice is gruff and loud, and for a second, Zoro wonders if you’ll listen. The next, the sharp clang of metal on metal stuns him backwards a few steps as you wrest your knives from between two of his katanas, snarling.

“If you’re so much of a gentleman — let’s take this outside.”

“Ladies first,” Zoro spits out as he whips both swords through the air before sheathing them. He makes a show of holding the tavern door for you as you stalk out in front of him, your hackles raised, your knives jutting out from your belt like so many pairs of sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” you ask, as soon as you’re both out of the bar and standing in the moonlit street outside, the wharf to your left, the strip of small, rundown taverns to your right.

The air twangs with the metallic smell of fish and the thick, oppressive sweetness of rotting wood.

“An explanation,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and planting his feet.

“I don’t owe you anything.”

Zoro nods, “Sure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know.”

You lick your lips, glaring at him for a second longer before turning and marching down the rickety boardwalk. A moment later, Zoro levels himself with you as you round a corner onto a small stretch of beach, pillowed against a backdrop of sharp, unrelenting rocks, the tips bleached white by the round, silver moon.

“There was a beach just like this,” you say, stepping onto the tide-soaked sand, leaning down to pick up a fragment of a broken seashell, washed ashore by an errant wave.

It takes Zoro a second to realize you’re talking about Shimotsuki village, and the tiny little beach on the other side of the dense, cedar wood.

“Yeah. A bunch of us used to play there — see who can throw rocks out the furthest.”

“You were always the best at that,” you say, your voice softer than he’d heard all night.

“Yeah, well…” Zoro shrugs, leaning down to pick up a piece of rock, weighing it in his palm a few times before whipping his arm back to snap it into the gentle, shushing waves. You both watch as the rock skids out over the water before plunking into the sea, “Guess I’ve always been kind of a show-off.”

The sound of your laughter sends summertime sparklers racing up his spine.

The quiet pools between you like spilt blood, rank and dripping.

“So. You go by Ms. Double Nines now, I heard,” Zoro says, in a flagging attempt to be casual as he turns to glance at you, both his hands resting on the hilt of his swords.

You stand next to him, your eyes focused on a point far out on the horizon, still as statue.

“What’s it to you?”

Zoro sighs, looking down. In the pale, cool moonlight, his earrings glint like baring teeth.

“What happened?”

You suck in a breath.

"Life happened,” you say, turning back towards him with a steely glint in your eyes. Zoro stiffens, his grip tightening on his swords as he sizes you up. He does the mental calculations — you’re just far enough for him to defend against an attack, but close enough where if things were to go south entirely, he’d have a hard time getting back to safety.

You grin, seemingly noticing his rough internal calculations.

“Do yourself a favor, Roronoa — and don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answers to,” you say, flicking out one of your blades and tossing it up into the air, only to catch it around your finger, swinging it round and round, the sharp edge of the blade nicking the air just shy of your cheekbone.

“Who said I didn’t want to know?” Zoro presses, bracing himself for a fight.

You chuckle, the sound harsh and mirthless.

“If you’d wanted to fight me properly, you wouldn’t have waited till I got you onto this stretch of deserted beach.”

“Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to kill you.”

“Or maybe…” your voice is so low Zoro almost doesn’t catch the stomach-wrenching longing in your words, “I just wanted a quiet place to die.”

The sharp shink of blades being drawn is heart-rendingly familiar, but the bone-rattling clash of metal on metal still shakes him to the roots of his teeth. Zoro grunts as he parries a blow from either side, before crossing his swords to catch your assault down the center.

You’re fast, he’ll give you that, your body smaller and quicker. You slip through the shadows with the comfort of a person who knows nothing but and he can’t help wondering at the life you’ve led that had pushed you to this point.

To having a mark on your back, a bounty on your head.

You’re a good fighter — this much, he acknowledges. But good isn’t usually good enough to best him. This much, he also knows. Yet somehow, you’re keeping up, somehow, you’re pushing him back, forcing him to retreat one step and then another. It’s not until you duck beneath one of his pin-wheeling blades and force yourself into a knife’s-breath of his space that he realizes — it isn’t that you’re good, it’s that you’re reckless.

Reckless with your own body in a way that makes him stumble back at the realization. Reckless, in the way you charge forward and thrust your body into spaces where he’d easily be able to slip a blade between your ribs — and later, when he’s wiping his swords clean of your oxidizing blood, he’d wonder why he didn’t.

Still, there’s something terrifying in the way you barely flinch when he knicks your arm, drawing a dark line of blood through your clothes, or how you jerk yourself forward when the tip of his sword catches your stomach, almost as if daring him to impale you in one fell swoop.

“You — you used to be… someone else,” he says, panting as he steadies himself against a sharp jut of moonlit rocks. Behind you, the ocean churns, dark and foaming as it throws itself onto the jagged reefs.

You lick your lips, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek. Your chest heaves with the exertion, but there’s a pale, flickering ache behind your eyes that sets Zoro’s whole body on edge.

He shivers as you grin, savage and unrecognizable as the tiny girl with mochi-round cheeks who had once upon a time offered him sweets in a hand-woven basket.

“Yeah? Well — so did you.”

TAGLIST: @brairslair @msheds0519 @yunabelless @lynndt-chocolate @lostonthrillerbark @stunies @tsumu-senpai @phroggii @ssailormoonnn @breathinginyoursmoke @guridoodles @kyllium @naomihatake @itoshiexx @mythicallystupid @mars-mizuko @astroniii @crispynutella @enhastolemyheart @fanficwriter101 @jamesbparker @dira333 @weirdowithaphone @ink-perfect

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/720364902873179886/

Remembered my password just to post Him

Lean, beautiful pre time-skip Roronoa my beloved, my husband, I would die for him

(Actually I would do the same for post time-skip Zoro too)

ONE PIECE LIVE ACTION MEN + DICK HEADCANONS & SIZES

a/n. i wrote this last night at 5am while sleep deprived so the further it gets the more wack it gets LOL

cw/tw. f!reader, rough sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, body hair, skinny penis, unprotected sex, for 18+ readers

MONKEY D. LUFFY

— 6.5” but thinks he’s average, so he doesn’t stretch it out with his abilities. not too girthy, but he makes up for it with his unrelenting stamina. it curves up against his stomach and leans left slightly. a little bit messy because he tried to shave it once and nicked himself, so he just settled with the hair. honey-toned towards the base and a deep red at the tip, especially when he’s raring to go.

— he wants to do it in every position, on every surface. he has you bent over the dinner table, one leg up and slamming into you mercilessly. he has you spread eagle in the bathtub, legs locked behind his back as he stuffs you full. it’s almost as if his dick is made for you, the curve perfectly abuses your g-spot as every orgasm overwhelms you, and you’re left a sobbing, babbling mess. he wants to know if he’s doing well, and he gets his answer when you chant “s— so, ah! good, fuck, d— don’t stop!” like a prayer.

RORONOA ZORO

— long, fat and heavy. he’s blessed with a stunning 7.3” length, though if anyone asks, he rounds down to make them feel more at ease. veiny. the mushroom tip is flushed purple, and it’s rests nicely on your tongue!! probably messy down there, he doesn’t see the point in shaving or trimming, but if you ask nicely, he’ll grunt, roll his eyes, and do it for you.

— you insisted that you didn’t need any prep, but as you straddled him, lining up your cunt with his cock, you soon realised your mistake. you have to spread yourself open, face scrunching up, and slowly sink down. he loves the feeling of your pussy walls fluttering as you start riding him. when your eyes flutter shut and your hips stutter, he takes control—holding you tight by the waist and fucking into you until you’re screaming.

SANJI VINSMOKE

— 6.4” and so so pretty. slender, with a pale shaft that leads into a rosy pink at the tip. it curves up and to the right. the carpet matches the drapes. he keeps it neat, though he probably doesn’t grow much hair anyway. he trims it once every few days, but he’ll never admit to it. smells the best AKA smells really clean, like soap.

— he goes crazy when you maintain eye contact and drop to your knees. you take his cock in hand, lifting it to run your tongue on the underside, tracing a prominent vein. you swirl your tongue around his sensitive head and his whole body is shaking, knees buckling as he chases that familiar high.

USUPP

— coming in at 5.8”, he makes up for it in his thick girth. when he jerks himself off, he can barely wrap his hand around it. he’s soooo sensitive that the wind can blow and he’s be hard. fat fat fat mushroom head that’s olive, golden-hued, and always oozing precum. heavy heavy balls. he might be clumsy and inexperienced, but his size alone is enough to make you drool. trims sometimes but only when he thinks he might get lucky.

— his hand grips your hair as you worship his cock, working magic with your mouth. as you jerk him off, you give small kitten licks to his leaking tip, tasting his salty precum. you whisper, “i want you” and before you know it, he has you pinned under him, rutting his thick cock into you desperately. his eyes are fixated on the way your cunt swallows him, and only strangled groans escape his lips.

BUGGY

— sorry buggy simps but he’s definitely a shower not a grower, though he still does comes in at a nice 6”! also, it’s ya boy, skinny penis. built like a tree branch but at least it’s really veiny, AND he knows how to talk you through it. so really, it might not be the most impressive but with his confidence when he’s fucking you? he’ll fuck you out and make you believe he’s 8” and 5”.

— he loves admiring your sopping cunt as it swallow him whole, your princess parts stretching to to accommodate his cock. he likes to fucks you. he presses you up against a window and fucks you from the back, choking you with his forearm and practically purrs, “taking me so well, ya dirty slut, fuckin’ cunt was made for my cock.”

SHANKS

— he doesn’t act like it buuuuuuut monster cock. it’s 7.8”, thick, and curved so much it slaps against his happy trail. let me tell you that when he sun tans, he does it naked. he lathers that horse cock up with sunblock and spreads eagle on the sand, hands behind his head, so he’s bronzed and beautiful. trims when he feels like it or if you ask, he doesn’t really think much about it.

— he doesn’t look like he’s putting in much effort when he fucks, barely breaking a sweat, but he has you writhing, hands gripping the sheets, eyes hazy and choking on your own spit. he knows what he’s doing to you. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing in delicate circles making you cum over and over again until you’re absolutely wrecked. when he’s close, he picks up the pace, grunting heavily, hips stuttering as he spills his seed inside of you. when he pulls out, he takes the time to finger fuck his cum back into you, your body shaking as you work through the aftershock.