Latest Posts by minecraftislifeminecrftislove - Page 3

Breeding kink boyfriend who puts you in a mating press?… big tummy bulge?

You weren’t going to last more than a few minutes with the hold your boyfriend had you in. It was tout as he pressed your legs back onto your chest, letting his cock head kiss your g-spot. It was chaste kisses as he ground his hips, trying to further his own arousal.

He needed you so bad he was practically on fire. He needed to breed you or he was going to die. Every minute he spent breathing could have been another minute pumping you full of hot spend.

When your boyfriend did cum, you couldn’t bear it. Your hips bucked and spasmed, trying to adjust to the new sensation that followed suit. Your pussy stretched to fit his cum as he fucked it back into you, shuddering with every pleasurable squeeze your walls gave him.

assassin’s creed shadows scenery - part 21

Chapter 306 | The Final Act Begins

Favorite kind of sweets w/ Shanks, Doflamingo, Ace, Koby & Smoker

Content: Gender Neutral reader, no NSFW 

Shanks

What do you mean ‘you’ isn’t an answer?

Really though, Shanks’ favorite kind of sweets would absolutely be alcohol infused chocolate

Those expensive ones with rum in them

He could eat every one of them on his own

It’s the perfect gift for him other than actual alcohol itself

He’ll hide it from the rest of his crew because he does not want to share

If he really likes you though, he might sneak you one

Doflamingo

Doffy is a connoisseur of sweets

He’s tried everything and will continue to, since he gets whatever he wants, whenever

But he’s got a soft spot for some fresh, light, fluffy, strawberry shortcake

Not too much icing, golden cake, it’s his favorite treat

Of course he’s not going to share- that may be an entire cake, but it’s his and even if he likes you, you’re not getting any. You’ll have to make your own

Getting him a surprise slice will turn any sour mood the other way around, so use that to your advantage

Ace

Two words: Cinnamon hearts

Ace loves anything cinnamon. The spice just gets him 

Plus, gifting him little hearts will make his own heart throb

He’ll share with anyone- cinnamon hearts are the type of candy you have to share- at least, he thinks so

They’re also not that popular, so he doesn’t need to worry much about losing much of his candy

If you’ve recently gifted him any, he’ll taste like cinnamon hearts when you kiss him

Koby

Koby is a big fan of all things minty, so peppermint candies would be his favorite

It’s practical, freshens his breath while also giving him a sweet treat

Also, peppermint is a great tool against nausea- so when he’s feeling sickly and anxious at work, he can just pop one and continue on his day

If he’s got the peppermint drops that usually come individually wrapped, he’ll share with anyone who asks for one. Usually Helmeppo, sometimes Garp.

Otherwise he’ll be gathering up candy canes as much as he can and stashing them away in his room just in case he wants a treat so if you gift him some, he’d be over the moon about it

He also tastes like his chosen candy if you kiss him

Smoker

Smoker isn’t one for sweet treats, they’re just too much for him

He likes his coffee and things that are more bitter or savory

If he were to pick something though, he would love some dark chocolate covered almonds

The chocolate isn’t too much since it’s also got the almonds in it, nuts are a good source of protein, and they’re easy to find as he’s travelling on Marine business

He’s not one to share with just anyone. He’ll give some to you with no problem or he’ll give some to Tashigi, and that’s about it.

Gifting him a bag would make him smile, and he would thank you while insisting you really didn’t need to spoil him

Kisses as extra thanks

Shifting Focus

DESCRIPTION: The moment they began to see you differently

WARNINGS: None

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Kid, Smoker | Sanji, Law

WORDS: 2,850

A/N: Another part of this in honour of reaching 500 followers. This was my first time writing for Smoker so here's hoping you all enjoy!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

---------------

SHANKS

Everyone knew Shanks was a flirt, a laidback charmer who always had a smile and a wink at the ready for the next pretty face he came across. No-one was meant to really take it seriously, to see anything that happened to be more than what it was, a fleeting moment of enjoyment for both sides. Serious feelings never truly came into play, it was easier that way given that he was always on the move. To let anyone believe he was the settling down type would have been cruel and he didn’t find any enjoyment in hurting people needlessly, unless they were his enemy of course. Everyone in the crew were more than used to his mannerisms, yourself included. You could understand his worldview on the matter however you never entertained him when he chose to flirt with you. Something that he finally started to notice and when he did, he couldn’t let it go. 

“Do I repulse you?” He asked suddenly one evening causing you to choke on your coffee. Your body tensed and you forced the liquid down your throat, wincing at the painful burn it caused and sharp tightness in your throat. You’d needed it to stay awake for your night shift but after that, you set the mostly untouched mug aside. Looking to your side you saw your captain staring at you intently, a small pout playing at his lips making you believe he was picking his words carefully to seem like he was keeping the conversation light. However underneath the joking you could tell there was a real question there. 

“If you repulsed me Cap, I wouldn’t have joined your crew, now would I?” You answered, looking back down to the sea chart in your hands, needing to keep track of any notable features coming into view. “What is it you really want to ask me?”

“I’ve noticed something about you.” Shanks began, scowling when you looked away from him to continue your work. You were always so task-oriented and levelheaded that even when you were joking with another member of the crew, you were still focused on what was needed to be done. Finally you looked up at Shanks again, eyebrows raised slightly to invite him to keep talking. “You don’t flirt back.” 

For a moment you had to think about what Shanks was getting at but finally you let out a laugh and lightly rolled your eyes. So he was in that kind of mood today. For a moment he almost had you by making you believe he was asking you a semi-serious question. Still smiling in amusement you shook your head and turned to go inside when a wind started to pick up. If you lost the charts in your hand it wouldn’t have been good. What you weren’t expecting was Shanks to follow you, with a sigh you settled down at your desk and sat back to stare at your captain who clearly wasn’t finished with this joke and you weren’t going to get any peace until you indulged him. “Am I being reprimanded for my lack of flirtation towards you, Cap? I’m surprised it’s affected you so much given how you’re never without company.”

“You flirt with the others on board.” Shanks pointed out, not really knowing why it was getting to him so much. Ever since he’d realised you’d joke around and tease the others on board but not him, it just kept gnawing at him. Shanks knew he shouldn’t get so irritated by it all but he just couldn’t help himself. He stepped closer until he was leaning of the edge of your desk, staring down at your calm expression. “So why not me?”

“I flirt with the others because it’s not serious and they know that.” You shrugged lightly, leaning back to regard your captain, a smile slowly pulling at your lips. “You, however are a different story, Cap.” With a breathy sigh you rose from your seat and Shanks’ earlier position meant you were now standing mere inches away from him, not quite touching but close enough for the warmth of your body to radiate into his. “If I gave in and flirted with you…I don’t think I’d be able to stop it as just a joke. I don’t have the same self-control that you do.” You murmured, tilting your head up slightly so your breath could softly dance against his skin. Satisfied that that should be enough for your Captain’s need for the joke to end you took a step back and grinned before sitting down at your desk. 

With your presence no longer engulfing his, Shanks blinked and immediately wanted more. More of that rush, that spark, more of you. However fate had other plans when Lucky Roux called for him and he had to do his duties as the Captain. Sharply letting out a huff of annoyance, Shanks reluctantly left your side to head onto the deck. When he reached the doorway, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder and see your attention already drawn back to your work. Yeah, this was far from over.  

KID

There was never a dull moment on the Victoria Punk. Even on the calm days at sea, the heavy steps of the Captain and the usual tone of conversation was carried at a volume louder than some other ships were used to. But that was what you liked about it. It was only when the ship was deathly quiet outside of sleeping hours that any of you felt the need to worry. The seas were calm and laughter surrounded you all as you sat in the living quarters with plenty of drink to see you all through to morning if you wanted. 

Currently you were all playing a game with the bounty posters you’d all seemed to collect. It was a simple enough form of ‘Kiss, Marry, Kill’ by selecting three posters from the pile however each person that had to answer ended up getting drawn into a fierce debate about their answers. If you didn’t want to answer on your turn however, you had to drink. It was an empty punishment since all of you were drinking happily regardless. 

“Look I stand by my answer okay?!” Wire shouted, unable to keep the grin from his face knowing the argument was in good spirits. “I had the worst draw out of them all so far, you guys have been getting it easy.”

“Just hurry up and pick my three okay?” You grinned, sitting up from your lounged position to get a better look for your turn. Wire reached over to the pile of posters lying face down on the table and picked three at random, slowly flipping them over to reveal Blackbeard, Franky, and Bartolomelo. Grinning you sat back down into your previous position. “Kiss Bartolomelo, Marry Franky, Kill Blackbeard. Easy.”

“Not that I’d argue with the decisions, you just made up your mind so quickly…” Killer noted, a grin in his voice as his face remained hidden by his mask. You rolled your eyes and grinned. 

“Nothing to think about, Blackbeard is…ugh” you suppressed a shudder at the mere thought of the Emperor. “Franky is dependable and skilled, and fun from what we saw when we allied with them so marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“You didn’t think about Bartolomelo as marriage material?” Kid asked with a grin and you laughed up at your Captain who you’d been leaning against for a majority of the night. 

“No way, he’s a major Strawhat fanboy. I’d be competing against that entire crew for his attention, sadly we just weren’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, you’re real heartbroken about it I see.” Kid laughed along with you and the others. The game continued for another while, some of the crew stopping from being too drunk to stay awake while others began to head for their quarters. Those remaining all agreed this would be the last round and it meant you were to deal out three posters for Kid. 

You were still far too comfortable lounging against your Captain so you quickly reached over, fumbling you flipped over the first three you could get your hands on and flopped back before even seeing who he had to choose from. From the sound of the stifled laughter you could tell his options were going to be good. With an anticipated grin you turned on your side and pushed yourself up with your elbow only to become surprised to see your bounty on the table along with Buggy the Clown and Nico Robin. You couldn’t help but become curious about what your Captain would pick about you although you supposed as long as he didn’t pick you to kill it was all fine, it was just a game after all. 

Kid suddenly felt tense and couldn’t help but look away from your printed face to the physical version of you. The you he suddenly became all too aware of. You’d been part of the crew forever and he’d never needed to see you as anything other than a valued member like the others. What if he said something that made you uncomfortable. But if he didn’t play then you could misread that too and make things worse. Fuck, why was he overthinking this? He had to finish the game and hope nothing more was said about it. “Kill the clown and kiss Robin.” He muttered quickly before looking away and draining the last of the alcohol in his mug. 

“Aww you wanna marry me?” You cooed, the smile growing wider on your face. With everyone satisfied with a good ending to the game, the crew began to clear up their drinks and the bounty posters and move to turn in for the night. You got up with a groan and stretched out your arms, finally feeling the need to rest too. With a yawn you turned to Kid who was still sitting and smiled softly. “Not heading to bed, Kid?”

“Yeah, heading soon.” He grumbled lost in his own thoughts that were now occurring to him and you tilted your head, a frown falling on your lips. Quickly Kid realised you were going to worry and he recovered enough to smirk at you. “We need our rest, right? We’ve got a wedding to plan huh?” He forced the joke out, relieved to see you laugh and leave while wishing the rest in the room goodnight. When you were gone, Kid glared at Killer who was sitting far too relaxed for his liking. “When did you add their bounty to the pile, Kil?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and you have no way of proving it.” 

SMOKER

“Vice Admiral?” You paused in the middle of the G-5 Base corridor when you spotted the base commander leaning against the wall with his office just a few feet away. At the sound of your call he made no sign that he’d heard you. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for someone of his rank to get lost in thought especially if there were certain higher ups breathing down their neck or certain pirates occupying their minds. Adjusting the documents in your hands you approached the base commander. “Vice Admiral Smoker?” You asked again and moved to lightly touch his arm to get his attention. 

At the same time, Smoker turned sharply and knocked into your hand causing you to drop your files in surprise. As the papers fluttered to the floor you kept your gaze on Smoker, concern growing in your eyes. His usual steely gaze seemed to have dimmed and you noticed the small tremor in his otherwise imposing frame. As one of the base’s medical staff your critical, scrutinising stare was pinpointing all that stood out to you. Since you were dealing with the commander himself, you felt you had to be somewhat nicer and couldn’t just order him to rest. “Are you sick?” You asked and immediately his stare sharpened at the implication. 

“I’m fine.” Smoker’s answer was gruff as to be expected but you could hear the slight shake that could have been missed had you not been listening out for it. When he saw you weren’t fooled he finally took a proper look at you and through his mind that was getting foggier by the second he managed to recognise who you were and what department you worked for on the base. Inwardly he cursed his bad luck. He’d been trying to get to the safety of his office but a dizzy spell hit him hard and he had to stop to catch his breath just mere seconds before you’d approached him. Smoker didn’t want to be babied, getting sick was a rarity for him. He just wanted to get to his room and sit there in peace until he felt a little better. No one else had noticed his state all day, why did he get cursed with bad luck like this at the final moment? He just needed to get rid of you before you tried to take a closer look at him. “Aren’t you going to pick up your documents?”

“Well since you're not sick and are partly responsible for me dropping them. You can surely help me lift them, right Vice Admiral?” Your question was so sweet and innocent but still Smoker glared at the challenge in your eyes. In any of his previous interactions with you, you’d seemed so reserved and quiet but now he could see another side to you. With a grunt, Smoker lowered himself to the floor, trying to fight the wave of dizziness and aches rolling down his body. Mentally he cursed you as you smoothly crouched down and started collecting sheets at a pace far faster than he was able to. When Smoker was focused on the task you’d given him, you struck. Your hand touched his forehead before he could react and you scowled at the man in disapproval. “You’re burning up with a fever. You’re going to your room and resting.” 

Your order left no room for disagreement and before Smoker’s mind could truly catch up, he found himself walking into his room with you. When he was lying on his bed you set about gathering what was needed to help his fever and aches before making yourself comfortable at his desk to fix the scattered documents into their right files again. From the small layer of dust gathering on the surface you could tell Smoker didn’t use it much, being a man of action over paperwork. “You don’t need to stay, I’m fine.” Smoker grumbled. 

“The second I leave, you’ll rest for an hour at most and call yourself cured. I’m not leaving until I’m happy you’re actually fine.”

“An hour is all I need.”

“Didn’t know you had a medical degree.” You noted dryly. “Do I call you Doctor Vice Admiral Smoker or Vice Admiral Doctor Smoker?” It surprised you when Smoker’s deep laugh rumbled through the air and a small smile graced your lips at the sound. Perhaps he should laugh more, it was a nice sound and it would help make him more approachable to some people. 

“You can call me whatever you want.” Smoker mumbled, it wasn’t often people stood up to him like this and he had to admit it was refreshing to see. Unable to fight it, Smoker yawned as his body was beginning to give in to its need for rest. When you heard the telltale signs of him falling asleep you let out a sigh of relief that the medicine you’d given him was started to take effect. 

In the early hours of the morning, Smoker stirred at the soft feeling of fingers lightly running through his hair. It was a comforting feeling and still under the haze of sleep that hadn’t fully left him, his mind hadn’t properly caught up so he let himself relax into the feeling. Reaching up he curled his fingers around your wrist holding your hand in place as his eyes slowly opened and met your face. 

“Your fever’s finally regulated.” You informed him gently, keeping mindful of the time and not wanting to speak too loudly. “If you promise to drink more fluids and stay in bed until at least late morning I can leave.”

“I promise, thanks Doc.” Smoker mumbled with a half-smile, stifling a small yawn and letting his eyes fall closed again but when he didn’t hear you leave he opened his eyes again to see you still standing there. “Problem?”

“Um, kinda need my hand back…or did you want me to stay?” you laughed softly, trying to hold back the grin when Smoker tensed and quickly let go of your wrist, allowing you to leave. “Remember your promise.” You reminded him as you left, smiling to yourself as you left to your room with the memory of Smoker’s blushing, embarrassed expression fresh in your mind. You had to admit it was pretty cute to see. 

Big, “scary”, “mean” men from One Piece blushing>>>>>>

Stay the Night (Smoker x Reader)

Synopsis: Smoker is surprisingly, bafflingly competent at taking care of you while you're drunk.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tags/Warnings: Alcohol, Intoxication, Alcohol Sickness, Vomiting, Fluff, No Reader Pronouns Explicitly Mentioned (Reader Wears Heels, Makeup, and a Wig), Language, Mildly Suggestive, Two Longtime Friends and Peers who are Clearly in Love with Each Other

Notes: I felt like Smoker was the kind of guy to reluctantly hold your hair back while you're throwing up.

Unlike the rest of his present company, Smoker usually avoided overindulging in elaborately planned social events, especially those with an open bar. It was best to stay out of the way. 

The Marines rarely allocated funds to such frivolous occasions, and so most officers and honored guests took it upon themselves to find the bottom of the generously offered bottomless champagne. While the hangovers were never worth it, that didn’t stop even the highest leadership from stumbling out of the ballroom doors with hair tousled and neckties hanging across their shoulders. 

Smoker preferred to sit at a table out of the way: a sanctuary among the chaos, away from the main path of foot traffic, with a clear view of the door. That’s where he nursed his single glass of whisky. If he were feeling especially celebratory, he would have two. 

You, on the other hand… were already standing on top of a table. Your stilettos were positioned on either side of the floral centerpiece in the middle, and the tiny point of your heels barely allowed you to balance as the bottle in your hands exploded in a loud, crisp pop. 

Smoker watched how the sea of Marines that gathered around you in disheveled formalwear cheered, and your hypnotized face admired the bubbles pouring from the bottle's neck. 

A group of newly trained officers jumped up and down together in time with the music on the opposite side of the circular table in celebration, knocking some tall glasses over onto the white cloth below. Smoker nearly leaped out of his chair as your knees began to buckle. But even despite your tiny shoes and even tinier dress, you managed to catch yourself. Your laughter resounded loudly among the voices around you.

Smoker heaved a deep sigh, sitting back down, swirling his drink with a flick of his wrist. 

He didn’t even need to see that stunt to predict what would come later that night. 

The streets were utterly empty. Aside from the glow of the street lamps, the only light that shone was from the venue as the staff hurried their clean up. Smoker strolled out of the double doors, tie loosened around his neck and suit jacket draped neatly over his arm.

He barely had to make it outside before he saw you. Hell, he’d be able to spot that glittery ass anywhere, even without your blinding choice of attire. 

You were bent over on your weak knees as you hurled your guts out into a bush. Smoker let out a low, resigned grumble, swiping a hand over his fatigued face as he approached you. You barely registered the large shadow that overtook you, let alone the hands that gingerly and neatly gathered your hair away from your face. 

You sputtered, coughing as a few tears streamed from your eyes. The insides of your cheeks were wet and bitter, and your throat burned. You spat onto the ground to get more foul-tasting mucus out of your mouth. 

You were a Marine, dammit, and a few too many took you out quicker than any pirate ever did. 

“Koby?” you whined. Tears continued to stream from your eyes at the pressure in your sinuses. You spat again. God, something was in your nose.

“Sorry to disappoint, Lieutenant Commander,” Smoker gruffed from where he squatted next to you. 

“Don’t call me that,” you whimpered, not wanting to be reminded of your rank during such a state of weakness. Your stomach convulsed, causing your sickness to start again. Smoker’s gaze drifted to the still street like another weekday night. “I’m never gonna drink again.”

“Mh-hmm” was about the only noise you got out of Smoker. He sat patiently and wordless, not one to croon words of assurance at you as you paid for your night of over-indulgence. But for his silence, he continued to pull your hair back, meticulously smoothing the bundle back as best as he could so as not to knot or tug at your stands. 

In a moment of relief, you finally turned over to sit on the curb. Despite the extra alcohol emptied from your stomach, you were far from sober. Smoker knelt on one knee in front of you. You could hardly get his face to focus, let alone register the warm jacket he hung across your shoulders. 

He took the pocket square from the left breast pocket and unfurled it with a snap of his wrist. Smoker swiped the fabric over your mouth, clearing away saliva and slime. The backs of your fingers knocked against his wrist belatedly as you shook your head.

“‘M gonna fuck up your hankie, Smokey,” you sighed, even though he had already wiped your mouth. He shoved the square roughly into his pocket, paying no mind to you as he heaved you onto your feet. “‘M alright. I can make it home.”

“Like hell, you can.” You stumbled as you tried to step forward, but Smoker caught you around the waist. “These, too. You know the whole street’s cobblestone, right?.” His movements felt incredibly fast to you as he bent down again to slide your shoes off, and with two large fingers hooked around the pinch of your stilettos, Smoker moved to throw you over his shoulder. 

“Whoa, whoa, wait…” Your hand flew over your mouth, and the other splayed across Smoker’s right shoulder. He held you at length, studying your face and movements carefully. 

“What’s goin’ on?”

You shook your head in small but rapid swivels.

“Can’t do that.” You heaved a deep breath, slowly removing your hand from your mouth. 

Smoker grumbled a hum of acknowledgment, pulling his jacket closed over your chest before shepherding you down the street toward your apartment. 

You barely remembered the walk, although you were sure your drunken meandering was more than a test of Smoker’s patience. Even so, he hardly said a word, only breaking his silence to ask you where your keys were when you reached your doorstep. 

They were in your clutch, which Smoker was holding with your shoes, of course. 

As soon as the door opened, you nearly collapsed into your apartment. With Smoker's help, you fell neatly onto the couch by the entrance. He slipped off his boots— no matter how formal the event, Smoker was wearing his combat boots— and disappeared somewhere into your apartment. 

You didn’t even care. Your head was so heavy that all you wanted to do was sleep as you slowly sank into your couch cushions. 

“Sit back up.” You heard Smoker call sternly from the other room. You didn’t think you could obey him if you wanted to. 

In a second, you were being repositioned. The light from the lamp in the corner of the room was sobering and borderline upsetting, but it allowed you to see the small trashcan Smoker brought for you on the floor to your right and the bottle of make-up remover on the coffee table in front of you. Smoker sat beside you, tilting your chin to delicately rub your make-up away with a prepped, textured cotton pad. 

It caught you off guard, to say the least. Even in your drunken haze, Smoker still didn’t seem like the type to have patience for tender acts of service. Hell, you didn’t even know he knew what make-up remover looked like. 

But despite your judgments, Smoker sat on the couch next to you, one elbow resting against the back cushion as he held your chin while his other hand swiped away your perfect contour. 

“Who taught you this?” you giggled. Smoker, make sure to get the creases around your nose. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Where do you want your lashes?”

“What?—” 

Smoker had already pulled your left eyelash off, the entire strip. 

“I’ll put ‘em back in the book I saw.” Before you could protest, Smoker had already pulled off your right lash. He stood quickly, stuffing the solution-soaked pad into your hand as he pivoted to carry your lashes to the other room. “Work on the rest of the glue.”

He turned back to you slightly, leaning over you just a bit to grasp your wrist and manipulate your hand to move in a circular motion on your face before you slapped him away. Smoker disappeared once again into your apartment. 

You finally noticed the plastic cup of water on your coffee table and mustered up the energy to take it. The outside was wet with condensation. It was cold. You couldn’t remember the last time you drank water. 

“What do you wanna do with your unit?” Smoker appeared from around the corner again; some linens balled in a wad under his arm. He held a pillow in his opposite grip as if he were holding a stray dog by the scruff. 

His white collared shirt had been pulled from the waistband of his dress pants sometime during the night. The black tie that was already draped over his shoulders drooped to one side, making one side longer than the other. The first three buttons of his shirt sat on his chest untethered. A dampened towel rested over his shoulder.

You blinked at him between sips of water. Your stomach was handling rehydration so far, but you were about to push it.

“You’re not touching my hair, Smokey.”

“Though I’d offer.” He set the pillow down to take the towel off his shoulder. Smoker wadded it in a ball before throwing it your way. You somehow still had the dexterity to catch it out of the air. A generous amount of adhesive remover had already been applied to it. 

Smoker pulled the coffee table out of the way, and as you stared at the towel he threw to you, Smoker began arranging blankets and pillows around you. You supposed he was trying to get you to sleep somewhere you could sit up. He draped a fuzzy throw blanket on your lap and moved two large decorative pillows to your right and left.

As your eyes moved from the remover-soaked towel to Smoker and back, you couldn’t help but laugh. The sensation moved through you before tearing out of your chest. Unrestrained by the liquor, it probably came out louder and more shrill than it would have usually, but if Smoker had any comments, he kept them to himself. 

He knelt before you, both his wrists resting on his bent knee. He shook his head as if regretting the question he was about to ask in advance.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

You swayed forward, racked with trembles, as you continued to laugh. The back of your heels knocked against the bottom of the couch. Smoker didn’t move, even as your face inched gradually towards his. Your cheek settled into your palm, allowing you to sit folded over to meet his eye. He waited as your laughter gradually subsided.

“What are you doing here, Smoker?” 

He stared directly into your irises, and you didn’t know if his expressionlessness or the intensity of his gaze made your smug smile waver. Intending to tease him, Smoker didn’t humor you with an expression. Nothing you had done that night—nor anything you would do—could sober you up faster than the sharp and sudden twinge in your chest that came with simply meeting Smoker’s dark brown eyes. 

What the hell?

“Your girlfriend’ll be pissed.” You sharply recoiled, kicking your legs over Smoker’s bent knee to swiftly stand. You made a beeline deeper into the apartment. 

Smoker only wavered a moment, his eyebrows creasing for a second in confusion before he stood and followed you.

“What girlfriend?” he shouted. He nearly ran into you as you closed a small cabinet by the bathroom. The side of your lip drooped downward in an acute pout. Smoker, never one to enjoy feeling left out of the loop, hovered over you expectantly. You entered the bathroom without a second thought. Smoker found himself in the doorway.

“Weren’t you with that…” You snapped your fingers as you tried to recall her name. You didn’t have to wait.

“Six months ago… and we only went on a few dates,” Smoker defended, although he wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need to defend himself to you in the first place. The two of you had known each other for longer than he recalled knowing anyone else, and more prominently, the two of you were peers. Why should it matter if he took some petty officer out for a few drinks a few months back? His eyes narrowed at the back of your head. “Why?”

You shrugged. You seemed far less worried about the whole thing; your face practically pressed against the mirror to remove the remaining patches of product Smoker missed. He did a more than adequate job. He hardly missed anything regarding your makeup, but the pointed glance you stole in the mirror escaped him. 

“Now I know I’m pretty wasted—” You met his gaze through the mirror. You cocked your head, and your hands gripped the side of the sink in pure bafflement. “But you said ‘lash book’—?”

“Got it. Got it.” Smoker crossed his arms as he tore his attention away. Steam filled the air. He hardly noticed the shower running, and he most definitely didn’t realize that you were standing in front of him, presenting your back, until you started speaking again.

“So, you’re just kind of a—" You glanced over your shoulder at him, and for as off as your judgment was, you knew you probably shouldn’t finish your sentence—even if his reaction would have been hilarious. You turned back around. “Get my dress for me?”  

You could have noticed Smoker’s single beat of hesitation if you were any less intoxicated. But for yet another instance that night, Smoker went quiet as he slowly tugged down the back zipper of your dress. The invisible zipper was thin and difficult to grip, but it slid down your spine like butter regardless, revealing the soft skin underneath.

“I have a pair of your shorts in the bottom left drawer of my dresser. The couch is yours.” You pivoted again on your heel, one hand holding your dress up on your chest and the other pushing Smoker back through the doorway. “Now get out.” 

You shut the door. Smoker sighed and resigned himself to rifle through your dresser, wondering why he had clothes at your place at all. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Based off my personal headcanon that Smoker has a surprisingly extensive dating history and an equally surprising library of knowledge about girly stuff because he's an extremely involved boyfriend. I'd say most of his previous relationships had amicable break ups. Reader was also going to say "so you're kind of a whore" but decided against it.

i wanna talk about my grumpy husband :( warnings: dry humping, a crumb or two of exhibitionism

vice admiral smoker who groans and grumbles when you waltz into his office in the middle of the work day and plop yourself in his lap, who complains about how much paperwork he has to do all while keeping an eye on the unlocked door you left behind you, who can’t stop picturing the look on some stuffy higher up’s face if they could see him now with a pretty thing like you straddling him, short skirt and all.

vice admiral smoker who acts like he’s helpless to stop you when you inevitably start grinding down on his fat bulge, like he isn’t one of the highest ranking marines in the new world and could put stop to it all if he really wanted to. smoker who starts thinking with his cock the moment he feels the pulse between your legs and loses all his pride and reason to start bucking against you, eyes fixed over your shoulder, pretending the hitch in his breath has nothing to do with how he thought he saw the doorknob jiggle for a second.

vice admiral smoker who flushes damn near purple when you hop up on his desk after you’ve gotten your fill of him and pull your drenched panties off to hand it to him, who can’t wait for to walk around with it in his pocket around the base like the secret perv he is, who’s more concerned about hiding the secret treasure in his pocket then the ring of dark marks you made sure to leave behind on his neck before you skipped out of his office.

fluffy little blurb of kissing zoro’s scarred eye . established relationship (?) WC : 622 . dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

“do you trust me?” your words jumbled out in one shaky breath of air as you make your approach towards zoro — the man who had been taking his mid-afternoon nap on the sunny’s deck for the past half hour.

“huh?” zoro cracked his eye open, watching you kneel before him. the golden sky illuminated behind you, wrapping around you in a soft hue of innocence, a stark contrast to your usual demeanor. something was definitely on your mind, so he raised his head up off of the wooden banister he was using as a pillow.

“i said do you trust me?” you repeat, your hand gently resting on his forearm. the vulnerable look in your eye told him that you weren’t pulling any tricks, not a drop of mischief in your irises that held the hope of a thousand stars.

of course he trusted you, you were one of the people he trusted most in this world. always beside him while fighting through whatever challenges you all faced, sitting next to him during meals times, keeping him company while he works out. you’re privy to everything in his life. the question was almost laughable.

“yes.” zoro answered simply. he was curious as to what brought on this sudden question though. did he do something that made you think he didn’t trust you?

“good. close your eye.” you whispered, leaning into his personal space now. if he had to guess, he figured you were about to crawl into his lap like you sometimes do when you nap with him, curling into his body before the two of you doze off under the warm sun.

so he doesn’t argue with you, lets you do whatever you please and shuts his eye.

but you didn’t move.

he wanted to open his eye back up to see what you were up to but as if you read his mind — your voice hums, reminding him to be patient.

zoro feels your presence getting closer, your face moving towards his. were you going to kiss him? he squirmed a little under the uncertainty.

but you surprise him, you always do. gently, you press your lips against his scarred eye, a feathers touch that if he wasn’t so keen with his observation; he might’ve missed it. the kiss itself didn’t linger, but your presence did, the reassurance flooding through his veins and drowning him in the light of your love.

the closeness begins to mend a fracture in his heart that he never knew about, carefully stitching it back together with a thread of affection he hopes never goes away — stubbornly imprinting itself on the ever beating muscle that sings to the rhythm of your name.

zoro accepted the state of his eye long ago. positively convinced that it will make him stronger, that when he finally reaches his goal, it will become that much greater because of all the challenges he’s had to overcome — everything he’s had to endure come to fruition.

he never thought it would bring this tenderness in his life, that your sweet nature would rub off on him by the ghost of your lips pressing against the scarred skin.

but it’s all over far too soon, zoro’s head falling toward your lips to chase the sensation that graced his skin like molten sunshine. but he straightens up, opens his eye and peers down at you curiously.

“was that okay?” you ask, nervous from his reaction. his body melts back into something mushier than the state he left it in. a new feeling blooming in his chest as he pulls you into his lap, brushing his nose against yours before meeting your anxious gaze.

“yeah.” he smiles a little, enjoying how your nerves flow away into the wind as he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you in place before settling back into his napping position. “that was more than okay.”

thank you so much for reading ᰔ

computer crashed so have this platter of old toshinori cringe

HUNKING HERO collab with @honeyandberryjuice

summary: you & toshinori get freaky in your office! relationships: yagi toshinori x female!reader warnings: 18+ content under the cut, !! MINORS DNI !! note: me & @honeyandberryjuice decided to work on our own custom kinktober list for this year, so here's a written collab between the two of us! enjoy it you filthy animals <33 tags: blow jobs, (light) praise kink, size kink, office sex, semi-public sex, dick transformation (just gets bigger cuz. u know. all might ), all might AND small might, two for the price of one!, porn w/ out plot, implied aftercare 🌺 prefer to read on ao3? check out the series! 🌺

“Oh my goodness,” Toshinori panted, his large hands gripping into the leather seat beneath him. The blonde man’s neck was perspired with sweat, his breath and skin hot. The groan that came from his throat was visceral, almost like he was in pain, though he couldn’t be further from it. “You’re… taking all of me so well.” The man managed to gasp out, muscles visibly straining in his arms. The sight drives you absolutely crazy.

 All you can reply with is a deep and satisfied hum, what with your mouth being otherwise busy. Toshinori’s cock was enveloped deeply in your throat, the warmth of it fulfilling your need for the man. The hum you’d given in response seems to send ripples through him, as you feel him jerk in your mouth. You can’t help but feel smug about it.

 You have one hand gripped around his sinewy thigh, and the other one reaches towards his groin to cup his balls. As you begin to massage them gently, a strangled cry erupts from Toshinori and a clammy hand slaps down onto where yours was on his thigh and squeezes. His words are a garbled mess, but you manage to make out, “Jeez, I’m gonna cum. Let’s…” The man pauses to take another gulp of air before continuing, “I wanna try something.”

 Curiousity positively piqued, you remove him from your mouth. Your jaw had begun to ache from taking the size of him anyway, and you’d never been able to say no to him. You quietly hum again as you move, slowly pushing yourself up and off of your knees, resting your hands on the top of the blonde’s thighs. Toshinori’s breath hitched at the contact, and the man finds it increasingly difficult to regain his composure. 

 His dilemma only worsens when you lean your head closer to his, a sweet smile on the same lips that were just wrapped around his aching dick. The man could just about faint when your lips brush against his cheek, warm and soft as they press onto his skin before you speak to him so warmly. “What do you have in mind, Toshi?” 

 Toshinori fights a groan, hands shifting back to the leather seat underneath him. With a squeeze, he furrowed his eyebrows before letting his palms rest on your hips. A surprised noise escapes his you as he lifts you with ease, gently maneuvering you so your sitting on the desk in front of the two of you now. Your hands move to rest on the tops of his own, causing Toshinori to dig his teeth into his lip as he peers up at you. 

 In his eyes, you’re beautiful— a true marvel of the world. Your hair falls around your face and shoulders in a perfect curve, and there’s the sweetest, most trusting smile on your face as you gaze down at him so lovingly. The blonde doesn’t understand how he got so lucky, but he’s grateful for it anyways as he moves to slot himself between your legs. 

 “What do… You think about trying something different?” Toshinori rumbles, ducking his head down to leave loving kisses across your susceptible skin. His teeth grazes your neck, making you sigh and lean into the man with an approving hum. 

 “Depends on your definition of different.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs soothingly against his skin. You’re already fucking the man in an office, so you’re certain that nothing he can propose will be too bold for you to try. 

 The kisses he had been peppering on your complexion began to travel down your body, and you let out a small giggle as his lips tickled your sensitive skin. Your hands instinctively reached up to grab at his dishevelled blonde hair, pulling gently, which caused a low groan to escape the man. You bite her lip at the sound, positively enthralled that you could cause such deliciousness to come from him without even doing much. It seemed to take everything in him to find the focus to reply, “It’ll be better if I just show you. Let me know if, at any point, you don’t like it, ‘kay?”

 The small nod from you was all he needed as he sits back down into the office chair while pulling you down with him. Your soft, warm, naked skin on his caused tingles to travel up his spine, his hands reaching around you to support your back as you settled comfortably on his lap. With ease, he lifts your body up to line himself up with you and slowly enter you, a rumbling groan and a breathy gasp escaping each of you respectfully. 

 He takes a moment to let you adjust, and you dig your nails into his shoulders, making him grit his teeth. Toshinori would describe himself as a gentle lover, but the things you did to him made him want to break furniture and throw you around like a ragdoll, but he was a gentleman and would control himself— Even if every passing second with you only made that challenge all the more difficult. “You okay?” He asked, voice soft.

 “Always,” You respond, though your voice sounds strained. You look at him through your eyelashes, already knowing where his thoughts were venturing. “Please don’t stop. I just forget how much of you there is every time.” There’s amusement in your tone, and your face is wonderfully flush with arousal.

 If Toshinori was a different man, he would’ve been completely self-satisfied about the reactions he got out of you. It was hard not to be, when you have your fingers dug into his shoulders as he slowly rocks his hips forward. A pleased sound leaves you as you tild your head forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder with a shaky exhale. Desperately, you want to be close to him. Desperately, you want more of him, all of him. 

 Instead of taking further pride in himself for having such an independent woman damn near weak in the knees for him, Toshinori rests his lips gently against the top of your head. The smell of your shampoo invades his senses as he pushes forward. He’s slow and careful for you, attentive as always as he allows you to adjust to his length. 

 Another pleased sound erupts from you, this time in the form of a breathy sigh as his hips become flush against your own. A soft pant leaves you, and you left your head up to capture Toshinori’s lips in a kiss. His fingers press gently against your hips as he begins to move against you. The pleased, muffled sounds that leave his lover as he moves make him groan quietly, his own need increasingly growing. 

 The hands on your hips grips you harder, and he lifted you again to slide you up the length of him before pulling you roughly back down to take him fully. A surprised moan burst from you, telling him that you enjoyed the act very much, so he did it again. And again. Over and over, he lifted you up and down, before hitching his hands under your thighs to keep you in place and pounding up into you until your eyes began to roll back in your head. 

 You were lucky nobody was in the building anymore, or it would’ve been very obvious what you were doing, closed blinds or not. 

 A strained groan came from him as he felt the familiar sensation of release building up in him, and he knew now would be the time to enact what he slyly hinted at earlier. As your cries turned ecstatic, and your pulling of his hair felt like you were going to rip it from his scalp in a heavenly wave of pain and pleasure, he allowed another well-known electricity to assemble within him. The remnants of One For All pumped through his veins, filling his muscles and bulking his frame like it had again and again over the years.

 He didn’t think he would ever get sick of the feeling, and it didn’t matter that it only lasted for a few seconds now. Toshinori always felt so powerful when the quirk gave him new form.

 As his body doubled, tripled in size, your already smaller frame seemed to shrink on top of him. His large arms and legs seemed impossibly big next to you, and it was with your very sudden, sharp intake of breath that he knew you felt him bulk elsewhere too. “Oh my G— Fuck!”  Your voice squeaked as his cock stretched you out, and you felt more of him than you ever had before.

 He’s about to ask you if you’re okay again, to know if this was way too much or painful at all, but he’s silenced by you clamping your hand harshly over his mouth as you begin to bounce on top of him. Your moans are so tinged with desperation now that he can’t concentrate on anything else, and his even larger hands cup you tightly on the ass as he watches you taking every wide inch of him.

 “Toshi— Fuck, All Might!” His hero name being called from your pretty mouth undoes him. He didn’t think he was vain enough that something like that would turn him on so much, but the surprise doesn’t affect much as he realises his climax is imminent.

 He throws his head back and moans loudly as he empties himself inside of you, the cum overfilling you and dripping down the inside of your legs onto the top of his thighs. The man pants as he takes a moment to recover, his hands falling limp against you, who in turn practically drops onto him. Toshinori can feel your chest pressed against his own, your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

 The blonde can feel his body returning to his regular form, but he doesn’t pay it much mind as he lifts a shaky hand that he runs through your hair soothingly. He’s quiet for a moment before tilting his head back to you, lips pressing against the top of your head like they had earlier before. He can hear a breathy chuckle come from your mouth, and you peer up at him with affection written all over your features. 

 “Are… You alright? Was that…” He’s not able to finish his sentence as you lift a hand and gently nudge his shoulder, your eyes narrowed playfully on his face. He can feel his features warm as you hum. 

 “That was perfect, Toshi,” You murmur, nuzzling your head into the man’s chest with a contented little smile on your face. Toshinori can’t help but smile too, moving his hands to rest them on your arms, rubbing soothing patterns into the exposed skin. “...Should clean up, though. My office is going to smell terrible.” 

 “Mmm,” The blonde grunts in agreement, nodding a little. “Just let me hold you a little longer.”

Younger!Toshinori who has stamina for days and the highest fucking sex drive.

Younger!Toshinori who feels bad whenever you say you're so sore and tired, but he just needs to keep humping and fucking and his cock is so hard

Younger!Toshinori who can't help himself. Whenever he sees you in such a cute outfit, he's got to have his hands on you. He loves to squeeze your ass, touch your tits. He's a pervert, but he keeps it hidden from the public eye.

Younger!Toshinori who is always so desperate to cum inside you. Sure, he likes the look of his cum all over your body, but he pleads with you that 'inside just feels so good, please please please'.

Younger!Toshinori who stains his underwear with precum all the time. He's always hard whenever he sees you. He's never ever felt this way before. You make him feel like he's going insane with lust.

Older!Toshinori who doesn't have the same stamina, but that sex drive never went away.

Older!Toshinori who surprises you with morning head and makes you cum at least twice before he even lets you out of bed most mornings.

Older!Toshinori who you've caught stealing your underwear, though he swears he was just trying to do your laundry for you.

Older!Toshinori who is always still so horny. His underwear is still stained with precum. He often has to jerk off or find you to have sex because he swears he's going insane with lust still.

Older!Toshinori who still loves groping your tits and your ass, and he actually does it a lot more now because he's out of the public eye more than ever now.

Body

And once again: the Symbol of Peace, Japan's #1 Hero.

This is the companion piece to this drawing!

PATIENCE | Roronoa Zoro

synopsis: zoro's is pretty patient, isn't he?

content: smut

It was a contradiction only Zoro could embody so effortlessly—being patient and impatient all at once.

He hovered over you like a storm cloud, muscles drawn tight with restraint, as though every fiber of his body screamed to lose control. His jaw was clenched, his breath coming in warm, ragged bursts against your ear, and yet… he moved slow. So deliberate.

His grip on your thighs was possessive—firm, grounding—thumbs digging into your soft flesh to keep you spread wide for him as he pressed his chest to yours, caging you beneath him. The heat between your bodies was stifling, sweat beginning to bead along his neck and your sternum, slick and hot where skin met skin.

Then he pushed in—deep.

You gasped. The stretch of him was devastating. Your pussy opened around him with sinful ease, clenching down with desperate greed as inch after inch filled you. He was thick, pulsing, and impossibly hard, and it felt like your body could barely take him—yet refused to let him go. Your walls fluttered around his cock, suckling him deeper, wetness gushing so freely it slicked down to your ass, pooling beneath you in a hot mess of arousal.

And Zoro groaned.

A low, gravelly sound that vibrated from his chest to yours as he buried himself to the hilt. He stilled, forehead dropping to yours, eyes clenched shut, and you could feel him trembled against you . His entire body stuttered—shoulders tense, thighs flexing, his cock twitching deep inside your slick, pulsing pussy.

“Fuck…” he hissed, voice strained, ruined. “You’re so fuckin’ tight—so wet…”

You moaned, breath hitching as you tried to move, to roll your hips, to take him even deeper, but his grip on you tightened. “Zoro,” you gasped, nails biting into the muscle of his arms, “I can’t… I need more.”

His green eyes snapped open, pupil's blown dark with lust and unreadable. Without a word, he leaned back just enough for his hand to slide between your bodies, fingers trailing over your swollen, slick folds until they found your clit—engorged and aching. He rubbed slow, lazy circles at first, watching your face twist with pleasure as his thick cock throbbed deep inside you.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice ragged, half-gone. “Creaming all over me… fuckin’ soaking my cock.”

You were. The mess was obscene.

Your pussy gushed around him with every tiny shift of his hips. Slick, creamy arousal coated his shaft and his thighs, spilling down to the sheets beneath you. Every inch of him came out shiny with it, only to be swallowed whole again the moment he thrust back in. You could hear it—smack, squelch, drip—the lewd music of your bodies meeting, of your cunt milking him like it never wanted to let go.

“Zoro—!” you gasped, body jolting as he pressed down harder on your clit, rougher now, rubbing tight, fast circles with his calloused thumb while his cock slowly dragged out… then slammed back in.

A breathy moan escapes your swollen lips, your back arching off the bed, thighs twitching in his grasp. Your pussy clamped down around him with brutal force, fluttering and squeezing, flooding him with even more slick. The sensation made him groan—deep and guttural—like the feel of your cunt spasming around him nearly undid him.

“You’re drivin’ me crazy…” he groaned, grinding into you, his hips grinding in slow, punishing circles that made you see stars. “You feel that? You’re fuckin’ dripping—you’re makin’ a mess of me.”

You were soaking him. His cock slid in with barely any resistance now, gliding effortlessly through your creamy slick, the wet sounds loud and unrelenting. Your arousal smeared across your inner thighs and his lower abdomen, sticky and hot, coating his fingers as he continued playing with your clit—rubbing, flicking, pressing—all while never stopping the slow, maddening thrusts of his hips causing your eyes to roll back.

And Zoro? Zoro was wrecked.

His forehead pressed to yours again, breath shaking against your lips as he tried to keep his pace steady. But the way you pulsed around him, the obscene slickness soaking his cock, the way your body bucked beneath his—he was barely hanging on.

“You feel that?” he growled against your mouth, voice dark and wrecked. “How wet you are for me?”

You whimpered, nodding, mouth falling open in a broken moan.

“Good,” he breathed. “Then take it.”

And then—he snapped. His hips slammed forward, hard and unforgiving. The rhythm turned savage, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room alongside your cries. His thumb never left your clit, rubbing fast, desperate circles as he fucked you into the mattress, each thrust drawing more slick, more moans, more of everything you didn’t know you were starving for.

You could barely think, barely breathe—your body consumed by him, your mind spiraling as the pleasure surged higher, hotter, wilder. Your thighs mindlessly hooked around him with a small stutter. And zoro fucked you like he had something to prove, like he needed to carve himself into your body so deeply you’d never forget the feel of him. His voice was low, broken, murmuring curses and half-spoken praise against your lips as he chased both of your ends.

And somewhere, tangled in the sheets, in the heat, in the mess of it all—your orgasm crested, overwhelming, blinding.

You shattered around him, body convulsing, thighs clamping around his waist, the loudest moan spilling from your lips as your pussy gushed around him in thick waves of cream. Zoro groaned—loud and feral—and buried himself to the base, his own release slamming into him like a freight train.

Your body trembled beneath him, flushed and limp, every nerve still singing in the aftermath of your release. Your chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths as Zoro hovered above you, his own form tight with the last tremors of orgasm.

He was still inside you—buried to the hilt, thick and pulsing—his breath ghosting over your mouth as he groaned through the final waves, hips twitching with each aftershock. His release was hot, thick, and so much. You could feel it flooding you, coating your insides in molten spurts until there was no space left to hold him.

When he finally stilled, he didn’t move right away. Just laid there, forehead resting against yours, arms trembling with the effort of not collapsing onto you completely.

“Shit…” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You feel that?”

You did.

The warmth of him spilling out of you, slow and heavy, slicking the inside of your thighs. His cock twitched one final time before he slowly, reluctantly, pulled out. The stretch of him leaving you was almost as intense as the stretch of him entering—your swollen pussy fluttering weakly around the absence, still clenching like it didn’t want to let him go.

The moment he slipped free, his cum followed in a slow, obscene rush—spilling out of your gaping pussy in thick, creamy streams. It clung to your folds, your inner thighs, sticky and warm and utterly messy. Your body twitched at the sensation, too sensitive, too overwhelmed, and yet it made your breath hitch in your throat.

Zoro watched it happen, eyes dark and half-lidded, expression wrecked and possessive.

“Fuck…” he muttered again, almost reverently. “Look at this mess.”

He dragged his hand down your thigh, slow and firm, before bringing it between your legs. Two fingers dipped into the mess—slick with both your arousal and his release—then he swiped them upward, catching the thick, white drip that threatened to spill further. His fingers were rough, hot, confident. You gasped softly when he pushed them back in—slow and deliberate—pressing his cum back into your sensitive, swollen pussy like he couldn’t stand to waste a drop.

“You’re not losing a fuckin’ thing,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the way you twitched around his fingers. “Gotta keep it all in.”

You whimpered, a weak protest caught in your throat, but your body betrayed you—hips giving the tiniest, involuntary roll against his hand. He chuckled low under his breath, the sound raspy and smug.

“You like that, huh?” he teased, fingertips pushing a little deeper, curling slightly just to feel the way your walls pulsed weakly around them. “Still so greedy… even after I’ve filled you up.”

You hid your face against his chest with a soft groan, and he smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead—gentle, grounding, the smallest hint of tenderness after such ferocity.

His fingers lingered a moment longer, pushing, curling, letting you feel the weight of his release inside you again before he finally pulled them free—slow and careful. He looked at the mess on them, slick and glistening, then brought them to your lips.

“Taste it,” he said softly, already brushing them against your mouth. “Taste what we made.”

You parted your lips without thinking, tongue flicking out to meet his fingers. The taste was heady, salty and sweet, and the moment your mouth closed around them, Zoro’s breath caught in his throat.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked again. “You’re gonna kill me.”

tolerate it

pairing: zoro x reader

summary: after a battle [post thriller bark etc] where zoro is severely injured and was on the brink of death. he doesnt want you to ever have to worry about him when he cant protect you, so he decides to let you go.

part 2 here

[this is my first ever posting i had this in mind all day i just had to write it]

———

after zoro was bed ridden for a month, you saw the change in him. even though he didn’t die, it felt like a piece of him did. he doesn’t look at you the same, hell he barely even acknowledges you. his head is always hanging low or he’s just sitting with his eyes closed.

the change started off small. you tried to start conversations with him but were always met with silence. then, he stopped eating. he wouldn’t eat when you took him the meals sanji had specially prepared for his recovery. though, when his captain took him the meals, he began to eat. you thought it was just in your head, that he just needed more time to recover. still, you check in on him everyday. waiting by the door in case he needed something.

this was new. sure he’s never been the affectionate type, but he always made sure to not let you out of his eye sight during a battle. if you were hurt, he wouldn’t leave your side until you were fully healed. zoro would rather take any hit than see you bedridden. he’d give you his jacket discreetly so you wouldn’t be cold. say he was full when sanji prepared your favorite meal so you could have more to eat.

he know’s you can fight your own battles, but that day he couldn’t protect you. he could barely protect himself let alone his crew. what if he hadn’t survived? he couldn’t bare to leave you with that sorrow. the thought of you almost having to bury him haunted him. it would be easier if he just let you go just in case one day he doesn’t make it. he would give his life to save his captain and crew with no doubt. with those thoughts eating him up, a decision was made, and it wasn’t easy.

zoro wants nothing more than to hold you and have you near as he recovers. he can see your shadow when you wait outside the door, so he faces the wall. he decides it’s easier to avoid any eye contact or to pretend he’s asleep. but zoro knows better, he knows that you’re aware. that you know he isn’t asleep. that he’s leaving it all in ruins. you tried to talk to him once he was nearly recovered. he had enough space and you needed answers for his behavior.

“look, we can’t continue this thing we had. we have to be stronger for our crew and for ourselves. and we can’t do that if we’re distracted with something that’s not worthwhile.”

and just like that he walked away. head high, but his heart in pieces. you wanted to keep believing that it was all in your head, but he had finally said it out loud. sure it was hard to train afterwards, but you just had to push those feelings aside. he was right, you had to be stronger. the straw hats couldn’t lose again.

so now you just sit and watch him from afar.

——-

whoever finds this i hope u like it :)

here is part 2!

Been thinking abt how shanks will lean up and pull you so flush to him and wrap his whole arm around your waist to bounce you on his cock…….. shoves his face into your neck and pants against your sweat-slick skin and you can’t do anything but fall limp against him like a ragdoll and let him do whatever he wants

I think shanks doesn’t get cute aggression very often BUT whenever I take a sip of his booze and make a face bc I inevitably do not like the taste he does always reach out to grab my face and squish my cheeks w a Bit more force than he typically uses thank u

What if I wrote abt licking shanks’ eye scar would yall still support me

the first time you give in and let shanks into your bed—after months and months of very persistent dashing grins and cloying sweet-talk—you don’t realize until he has you pressed against your bedroom door, with his singular hand tucked beneath your skirts to grasp the back of your knee and hook your leg around him, that the vest you’ve chosen today is held together by a row of small buttons at the front.

it’s an issue it seems he’s only just realized too, as he pulls away from your lips and stares down at your bust.

“buttons,” he says with a pout, thumb tapping pensively against the side of your knee. “is this a test?”

“an accident,” you laugh. “i’ll help—“

“no.” shanks nips at your finger playfully before you can touch your neckline. “not proper to make a lady undress herself.”

it shouldn’t be a surprise, you suppose, but he’s more skilled than you anticipate. with teeth and tongue he manages to undo three before the steady unveiling of your cleavage distracts him. letting go of your leg, he reaches up to work at the fourth even as his tongue runs hot over the newly exposed skin of your chest.

then you feel him pause. he blinks; his eyes are dark and stormy, so deep red they might as well be black. though you often find it difficult to parse out what he’s thinking, it hardly takes a genius to gauge the way that big hand catches hold of the side of your vest, teeth grazing the other; preparing to forego any more delay and simply tear the damn thing apart.

“pop them,” you sigh out, somehow unwilling to speak more than a murmur, “rip it off. i won’t stop you. but—“

you pause just as shanks does the same, eyes darting up to meet yours over the heaving swell of your chest and fingers freezing where he’s gripped the fabric of your bodice.

“you won’t do much more than touching tonight,” you finish.

those eyes sharpen. a thrill goes through you, as his fingers flex for half a moment—and then he’s surging up to kiss you again, hard and heavy and biting, drawing a heady giggle from your tongue. his arm slips around your thighs, tightening to lift you from the solid wood you’ve been pressed against before he turns to take a scant few strides and deposit you onto your bed, not once parting from your lips.

only when you’ve settled does he pull back, just slightly, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves his arm to brace himself on his elbow and then giving a surprisingly chaste peck to the tip of your nose as he begins a descent.

he lingers at the edge of your neckline, sucks at your skin, then kisses down your stomach over the fabric that still covers you; his hand is eager but gentle as it slides beneath the hem of your dress again, rough calluses brushing against your foot and ankle and calf until he’s palming your knee and pushing the fabric up over your thighs.

“well.” that look in his eye is more of a glint now, accompanied by a grin and a wink that has you rolling your eyes as shanks disappears from sight. “suppose i’ll find something we can do without taking that damn thing off, eh?”

he can't just be undoing buttons with his mouth. with his tongue and teeth. he can't communicate his thoughts into your head directly he. Pluvi I'm already in love with him what do you WAAANT

This clip haunts me… I think abt this and abt him uncorking bottles w his teeth and being so good at the cherry knot trick his crew always says he has an unfair advantage and how he has such an affinity for shirts/dresses w necklines that tie in a bow at the front bc he can just lean in and pull them open w his mouth………. But more importantly he plays up how much he hates buttons bc shanks is nothing if not a patient man who loves a challenge u give him a row of buttons and a promise of something nice at the end he’s diving headfirst into that mission w Vigor thank u very much

Shanks rlly will play up the gentleman thing it’s so insane. Hes kissing your knuckles and holding your hand to help u off the ship and telling his crew to “mind their manners around the lady” as if he’s not abt to have you sitting on his face grasping at the knots of his hammock for dear life in less than an hour

No bc I’ve been so haunted lately by shanks and prone bone…….. he’s so huge and all-encompassing pressed against your back, breath hot at your ear, scruffy chin rough against the softness of your jaw. He shoves his face into your nape and licks, heavy and wet, desperate for the salty taste of your sweat beading there. His arm is a vise around your waist that only grows tighter when he drags another release from you and it all becomes too much and you try to squirm away on instinct, drawing a breathy yelp from you and an unintelligible growling protest from him in return each time.

But when you finally pry your arm free enough to fling it backwards and grip his hair, he falters just barely. Your hand tightens, nails digging into his scalp as you yank, and he melts against you with a sound entirely unbecoming for a man of his stature—his hips stutter, then press against you and grind, sending white-hot sparks of warm, seeping pleasure through your core as he finally cums.

zoro = my one piece -> shanks = my yummy side piece -> film-red-shanks is like, too red -> dark merlot red

“I made a bet on a new age.“ (sketch version)