I write fanfic ❦ 23 she/her @bluebnny - Tumblr Blog

Jul 15

Chapter 1

trafalgar law x fem!reader

contents: this is supposed to be a slow burn thing spanning multiple chapters but i've never written anything that long before so we'll see what happens. i plan to make this quite angsty and toxic but it's mostly fluff in this chapter (other than the dubcon ofc)

warnings: smut, MDNI, mutual dubcon/noncon (yes both of them), intoxication (marijuana and alcohol), virginity loss, some elements of coercion, unprotected sex

a/n: tried to do a new thing where I switch povs but i don’t like it, so i’ll probably do it less in the next chapters lol. anyway i had a really good time working on this, so i hope it's just as fun to read as it was to write! i really hope you like it!! enjoy <3

word count: 7.023

y/n’s pov

Τhe door clicks shut behind you, swallowing up the golden rectangle of light on the ground and muffling the sounds from the bar, leaving you in darkness. Your eyes adjust to the glow of the moon, shining magnificently among the innumerable stars that litter the inky night.

The flick of a lighter catches you off guard, and you flinch when you notice the man leaning against the alley wall opposite you.

You recognize him instantly. How could you not, with his face plastered on practically every street corner on the grand line?

Trafalgar Law is prettier in real life, you think, although the posters do him justice. But there’s a sharpness to his gaze that the photos don’t catch, and an unpleasant chill runs up your spine when you remember all the rumours about him; about how deranged he is.

His eyes narrow when he catches you staring, and the evening air does nothing to cool your burning face. Shit.

Being alone with him out here probably isn’t the best idea; the last thing you need is for him to think you’re looking for a fight. You say the first thing that comes to mind, hoping it makes you seem as inoffensive as possible.

“My bad, you look like someone I know.” The lie is entirely unconvincing, but you try at least to appear more sober than you really are.

He only responds with a scoff. If there’s humour behind it, it doesn’t show on his face.

You’re still unsure of how to act but decide that the best course of action is to ignore him for now. You came out here to clear your head, and that’s what you’ll do. Plus, it’s not like he’s ever heard of you, meaning there’s no reason for either of you to initiate a confrontation.

You lean against the wall facing Law, doing your best to pretend he isn’t there. He’s not granting you the same courtesy, however, still staring at you in a way that makes you skin crawl.

You’d love to glare back; mostly to emphasize how rude he’s being, partly because he does intrigue you, as much as you hate to admit it. But the risk of angering him is too great. It’s safer not to engage at all.

Your head rests against the solid brick as you try to will the dizziness away, mentally berating yourself for accepting all those drinks your crewmates had pushed into your hand. But it’s hard to stay angry at them when your mind wanders again to the reason for your celebration.

Law’s pov

Law knows you. More precisely, he knows your face. But even so, he’s struggling to place you.

He takes a drag from his joint, trying to remember why your picture had been in last month’s paper. It’d been a short, uninteresting article somewhere in the back; that much he’s sure of. But why had it stuck out to him?

After about a minute of silence, your face hardens, the expression reminding him of the photo in the news. “Look, can I help you? I don’t want trouble, but you’re sort of staring.”

You seem to be pretending not to know him, which Law doesn’t find believable in the slightest, but your intention to avoid a fight is a welcome one, and he can’t see a reason to confront you about it. His head is still pounding from the alcohol and noise. He’ll gladly play along if it means preventing a headache.

“Trying to smoke in peace.” Law tries his best to sound dismissive, hoping you’ll catch the hint, but you seem relieved by his response.

“Don’t mind me, then. Just getting some fresh air.”

He closes his eyes in annoyance as you search for something in your pockets, placing the filter to his lips and letting smoke fill his lungs, wishing he was alone, but able to tolerate your presence for now. His mind finds its way back to his earlier train of thoughts.

Your offence had been trivial; a bank job in a small village. And he remembers now that it wasn’t the paragraph about you that had made him pause, but the name of that same village appearing in an equally short and boring article only two days later, this time about a theft from the local library.

The writer hadn’t given the case much attention. Mostly focusing on the many inconsistencies in the town’s own report, they had been quick to dismiss the whole thing as insurance fraud.

But it had seemed fishy to Law. After all, how often does a remote farming village with about fifty inhabitants show up in the news? Twice in one week, no less?

He sighs when you curse under your breath, reluctantly cracking open an eye to see what’s disturbing his rare moment of peace this time.

He finds you looking at him sheepishly, mumbling out “I hate to ask, but you got a light?” and awkwardly holding up a joint of your own, as if to show him you’re not lying.

He raises his eyebrows but manages to suppress another scoff at what you call ‘fresh air’.

Maybe he’s reading too much into this. If you’re some sort of mastermind with an elaborate plan, you sure are good at hiding it.

When he still doesn’t answer, you grumble, “Whatever, I think I saw some matches at the inn. Thanks for nothing,” and turn to leave, clearly annoyed.

But Law is now too intrigued by the weird news and too bored with everything else to let you go just yet. There’s something about it that won’t leave him alone, and he'll be damned if he doesn't find out what.

The words are out before his befuddled mind can catch them, “I’ll help. But I want to know something in return.”

You stop abruptly; eyebrows tensed in suspicion, and Law pulls out his lighter, flicking it on as if it would somehow help convince you. He can always use more drastic measures in case you don’t comply, but he thinks it wise to avoid causing a commotion for now.

“Like… what?” You sound hesitant, but a quick glance down at the flame shows you’re considering it.

Law ponders your question, deciding that honesty is the best strategy at the moment. “Like where I’ve seen you before.”

It’s your turn to scoff, but Law waits out your exasperation, watching it slowly turn back into wary distrust. You cross your arms. “You haven't. I'm sorry but you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

You try to leave again, and Law feels his hand twitch involuntary, but he doesn’t create a room. Not yet.

He tries to collect his thoughts, wondering why he suddenly cares so much.

You’re just some dumb pirate like any other, deciding to go for an easy bank with a small payoff because of the low risk. Maybe the whole library thing really was insurance fraud. After all, it would be the best time for it; easy to pin on the first pirates to stop by in years.

Law takes another puff of smoke, allowing it to relax his mind. Maybe there is some truth to what Bepo keeps saying; that he tends to overwork himself. Yes. This isn’t worth it, not when he has bigger issues to worry about.

But for the second time that night, Law speaks before he knows it. “Why hit a place like Shrimp Island? It was the bank, right?”

That does it. Your stop dead in your tracks, and he doesn’t miss the instinctual way your hand jolts at your side, just like his own had.

“Like I said, you must have me confused with someone else.” The forced calmness in your voice gives you away more than anything else, and there’s now an unmistakeable tension in it.

“Stop pretending. It’s irritating.” He sounds harsh now, but being polite was never Law’s thing anyway. Not when being direct is so much more effective.

A pause. He can tell you’re thinking hard, trying to gauge the situation. You hesitate for a moment longer, then, “Wasn’t even a real bank. Just a town hall with a safe or two in the back. You know, small towns.”

“Nothing much to rob, then.”

The accusation is clear in his voice, and you look at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Not on the way to anything, either,” Law continues, letting the insinuation hang in the air, eyes locked on your face to catch every change in expression. He notes how you start fiddling with a red ribbon tied around the collar of your shirt.

There’s another silence, longer this time, but Law makes no effort to break it. Eventually, you do, switching up your strategy at lightning speed.

“Look, is that all you wanted?” you sigh. “I’m new to this stuff, and that robbery seemed like a sure thing, so I went for it.”

“And the library?”

“You actually believed that? Come on, that was clearly fraud.” The confidence in your voice sounds convincing, but you’re avoiding his gaze.

y/n's pov

Law freaks you out more than you thought he would. In hindsight, it was stupid not to leave the second you recognized him.

Your mind is running at full speed, trying to make sense of the situation you’ve gotten yourself into by sticking to the facts.

He obviously knows something, which isn’t surprising, as he’s infinitely more established as a pirate than you are. You can only imagine the kind of doors his position must open. But is digging deeper worth the risk? Law’s clearly a dangerous guy, even if the tamest of rumours about him are exaggerated. And you’re not exactly eager to find out.

Law’s gaze seems to pierce through you while you think, but he doesn’t interrupt, probably sizing you up as well. If he has even an inkling of what you’re up to, it would be in his interest to capture you for information. But somehow, you don’t think he does. Not more than what was in that one stupid article, it seems.

Curiosity wins in the end, despite your better judgement.

“We can talk.” You try to look confident, “But I’m going to need some information in return, or this simply isn’t worth it for me.” You think for a moment, then add, “I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Law takes a minute to consider your request, and you force yourself to meet his gaze, hoping he doesn’t notice the shiver running up your spine. The silence stretches out between you again, letting renewed doubts creep back in your mind.

He’s about to respond when the door flies open, and a man in a white boiler suit and funny hat stumbles out. His face lights up at the sight of Law.

“Captain! Come look, Shachi is so drunk he’s doing karaoke with random people!” He’s laughing hard and slurring his words, and you manage a glimpse over his shoulder at the scene inside, eyes landing on a man in an identical suit singing into a microphone, his arm slung tightly around- no. It can’t be.

You try not to let any emotion show on your face as you watch your own second in command drunkenly sharing a microphone with Shachi. You’ll need to have a word with her about not letting her guard down like this around pirates.

“Go back inside. I’ll join you later,” Law’s tone is curt, and his dark eyes don’t leave you as you both wait for his disappointed crewmate to leave.

The door shuts, plunging the alley into darkness once again. The muffled music is no longer enough to cover your rapid breathing, and you do your best to slow it down.

“We should talk somewhere else,” a tense smile makes its way across Law’s face, and you’re not sure you prefer it to his prior expression. He’s creepy, and the last thing you want is to be alone with him. Despite all this, you nod.

“Your ship?” he asks, still with that disturbing smirk on his face, and you suppress a groan at the mind games.

“I have a room in town. It’s a few minutes’ walk from here,” you reply, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. You don’t want to be alone with this freak. But there’s no backing out now. Hopefully he lets something important slip by accident, because he’s almost certainly using you.

Law holds up the lighter again, indicating that he accepts your terms, and a little flame sparks to life between you. You waste no time in lighting your joint, wanting to get this over with quickly.

“So, no ship?” he questions, and you feel yourself tensing up. This was a bad idea.

“What’s it to you?” you snap, but his expression is unreadable now, and you add, “I have one. Just don’t want anyone near it.”

“Hm.”

He falls silent. You try to stay patient, which is proving to be quite difficult, as you’re already stewing just over his indifferent tone. You take a drag of smoke in the hope that it’ll calm your nerves.

A few minutes go by quietly as you walk side by side, Law suddenly acting like he has all the time in the world. God, he’s irritating.

“So, are you going to actually ask me something, or what?” you snap, and you could roll your eyes when he scoffs again.

“Impatient to spill all your secrets, pirate?” His tone is aggravating, but you can’t deny that it works in making you feel like he has the upper hand.

“Not spilling any secrets, and not a pirate,” you retort, refusing to elaborate further.

That seems to get Laws’ attention. He turns his head to you before answering, his bored look only broken up by his raised eyebrows. You’re starting to think mild interest is the only facial expression he’s capable of aside from that creepy smile.

“Only types of weirdos willingly sailing the grand line are pirates and marines.”

“Well, I’m not a weirdo, so I hope that fixes the issue for you.” You ignore the accusation in his statement, not at all in the mood to justify yourself to him, and instead fill your lungs with smoke again.

Law lets out a short sound, and you’re forced to conclude that it’s laughter, although a part of you still doubts that he’s even capable of such a thing.

But despite your surprise, you look away. Law is quite pretty when his smile isn’t forced, and that thought sends a strange wave of shame through you that you simply don’t have the energy to unpack in a moment like this.

“Well, you’d be the first. Most people have their, ah… quirks.” He says smoothly. You wonder what he’s referring to specifically, unpleasantly reminded of a story you’ve heard on multiple occasions about Law cutting out people’s hearts and keeping them somewhere on his ship.

But there’s no time to rethink your situation, because the inn is coming into view.

“We’re here. The owners should be asleep, but I don’t want to risk taking these with us.” You nod in the direction of the blunt in Law’s hand.

He rolls his eyes but takes a last drag while you reach for the door handle and grinds the rest under his boot. You peer inside the reception area. It’s empty. A quick gesture tells Law to follow you through the entrance and up the stairs.

“So, why this sudden interest in my life?” you mutter, feeling like you have to stall for time now. “One moment you act like I’m ruining your evening simply by existing, and the next you won’t let me leave?”

“You did ruin my evening, but I don’t care about that anymore,” Law answers calmly. It’s hard to tell if he’s joking.

“How considerate,” you deadpan.

Another short laugh, but rougher this time, and a lot less likeable. “Yeah. I’m known for that.”

The knowing look Law flashes you at his words makes your spine tingle with anxiety, but you force yourself to focus on the conversation at hand, fishing he keys to your room out of your pockets.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you grit out, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

Law seems to consider his next words; head tilted slightly to the side while looking at you. Does he always have to stare like some creep?

“I’ve heard stuff about Shrimp Island. Nothing reliable of course; mostly rumours,” he explains.

“Like what?” Could he have come across the same records as you, or is he referring to another source entirely? The thought excites you, and you close the door quickly.

“You tell me.” The look he gives you is one of confidence, but you have no patience for it this time. Not when you were finally about to get somewhere.

“Oh, that’s funny,” you let out an amused huff for the first time, “I bust my ass for months researching and planning, put my crew at risk, and you think I’m just going to give it all up because you act like you know more than me?”

Law has that tense grin on his face again, jaw clenched tight. It’s more like a grimace than anything, and you wonder whether it’s his way of expressing unease.

It doesn’t do much to make him seem more sane, but that’s a problem for later. There’s something oddly reassuring in knowing that you can push his buttons. Maybe you’re not as helpless in this situation as you thought.

“Let me get this right,” he grits out, the underlying danger in his tone bringing back an uncomfortable amount of childhood memories. “First you lie about not knowing me, then you refuse to give me a good reason to trust you when you’re obviously hiding something, and now you expect me to tell you anything you want to know out of the goodness of my heart?”

It’s impossible to maintain eye contact when he talks to you as though reprimanding a child. But as much as his words make you feel stupid, they piss you off even more.

“Well, I don’t know if I can trust you either! All I know about you are rumours, and they don’t exactly make you seem like the most approachable guy, in case you weren’t aware,” you shoot back sarcastically.

A slight pause. When you look up at Law again, his annoyed expression has changed to one of mild amusement. It makes you feel brave enough to add on.

“You’re the one who started asking a bunch of questions, so it’s up to you to give me an incentive to answer them.” It’s hard to mirror his playful air when he’s almost a head taller than you and quite unpredictable, but you’re also eager for him to stop being angry.

Law leans down, his face closer to yours than ever, and roughly grabs the ribbon around your neck to prevent you from stepping back. “And what sort of incentive did you have in mind?”

You swallow at the closeness, hoping he doesn’t notice your face grow hot again. “You can start by telling me everything you know about me.” You know he intends to tease more than threaten, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating.

Law’s gaze intensifies for a brief moment before he releases you and stands upright. “All I know is your face, your name, and the fact that you and your little crew were on Shrimp Island right around the time they claim to have lost an important historical document,” he says, all too casually.

“So, what-”

“No,” he interrupts, “I answered a question, I get to ask one. And don’t lie.”

He seems to wait for you to argue, but you don’t, so he continues. “What did you steal from the library?”

You frown at the question, and Law looks at you expectantly. “It was more like an archive, I guess. We stole some old articles. A book, too.”

“Articles?”

“My turn. Why do you care so much what I’m doing?”

His eyes narrow at the charged question, and you can tell he’s thinking of an answer.

You decide to give him some time, untying the band from around your neck. Best not to give him too much to grab on to, with his erratic temper. Law’s gaze follows you, as you search for your bag in the dim room, and you try to hide its additional contents from view while looking for the other joint you rolled earlier. It’s best to let him believe that everything of value is currently on your ship.

Law is still eyeing you as you make your way back to him, an amused frown playing around his features when you hold out one end of the rolled-up paper for him to light.

“What happened to ‘not risking it’?” he asks, once again pulling out his lighter and flicking it on for you.

“Locking myself into a room with a crazy pirate sort of put that into perspective.” You breathe out smoke from your lungs and offer him the joint after taking a second hit.

Law accepts it silently, and you watch the embers glow brighter when he inhales through the filter.

You sit on the bed, leaning against the wall with your legs crossed, head feeling pleasantly heavy, but still listening intently as Law finally formulates an answer.

“I have… certain areas of interest,” he starts, the careful choice of words sticking out to you. “It’s no secret that I’m after the One Piece, but that isn’t all.”

There’s another pause as he takes a second drag, then a third.

“There are mysteries I’m trying to find the answer to, but there’s very little information on them.” He looks at you while speaking, and you try to keep your expression neutral. “I’ve heard talk about that town. Some say it’s over 800 years old.”

“It is,” you say, and Law’s eyes snap to yours. His gaze is sharp, even now, and it makes something in your stomach tighten.

“What sort of articles? You should be able to find most published ones in any library.” The abrupt change in subject takes you by surprise, but you catch up quickly.

“Medical ones, mostly,” you answer, “And that’s the thing, these ones were never published.”

This seems to pique Law’s interest, his stare somehow intensifying.

“About what exactly?” He takes a step closer when you hold out your hand, passing the joint back to you, and watching you inhale more smoke.

“You can’t give me vague answers and expect specific ones in return,” you smirk.

Law lets you take another slow drag before gently prying the joint from you again. He doesn’t seem annoyed, just pensive.

“I’m a doctor. Why wouldn’t I be curious?” he shrugs out between puffs of smoke, then adds, “Isn’t it more strange for you to be stealing medical papers?” He has a point.

“How do you know I’m not a doctor, too?” you argue, somehow a little offended at the assumption, but Law just looks amused.

He considers you for a moment. “You have the face of someone who can’t name a single bone.”

“Cranium. Easy.”

He raises his eyebrows. “That’s eight.”

“Yeah, so more than one.”

Law gives you another smile, a genuine one that seems to somehow have slipped through the cracks of his icy exterior. And there it is again, the feeling that you’ve intruded upon some private moment never meant for your eyes.

You take the blunt out of his hand and place it at your lips, wondering how much to tell him. But you don’t see any harm in it. “I’m a linguist. A historical linguist, to be precise.”

Law sits at the edge of the bed; feet planted firmly on the ground. You watch his side profile. The way it stands out against the blank walls of the inn. There’s a sudden flash of recognition, and you get the distinct feeling of knowing him from somewhere. But you don’t have time to dwell on it.

He leans closer again, probably to intimidate you into giving him a proper answer like before. But you meet him halfway.

His lips are warm on yours, and his face heats up quickly under your palm.

But the kiss only lasts a moment.

You pull back as soon as your mind catches up to your actions, a chill shooting up your spine at the realization of what you’ve just done.

Law doesn’t react when you break apart. But the hand he placed on your arm during the kiss is still there.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking! I shouldn’t have…” your words trail off as you take in his expression.

Oddly enough, Law doesn’t seem angry like you had expected. He appears taken aback more than anything.

His eyes flick down to your lips. Like he wants to ask for more but fears you might have changed your mind about kissing him.

You haven’t.

Law’s pov

This must be what having a stroke feels like. Law’s brain is running faster than he can keep up with. Did you just kiss him?

He notices you looking panicked. Maybe you’re regretting it? He should let you go. His arm is pulling you closer.

“Law.”

That’s the first time you’ve said his name. He likes the way you say it.

Law doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how.

You tentatively lean closer again. Your eyes are so pretty as they search his face in the darkness.

He wants to leave, but he’s frozen in place. And a reluctant part of him craves the warmth of your face on his.

He doesn’t move away, and you close the distance.

Law lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Strangely, he’s having the opposite reaction this time around; his body is alive with feeling, a weird buzzing sensation spreading through his limbs.

Did you drug him? There’s an embarrassing tug in his abdomen at the thought, and he hopes you don’t notice the front of his pants tightening.

“Does your devil fruit electrocute people?”

That probably wasn’t the right thing to say, at least if your expression is anything to go by. You look somewhere between worried and shocked.

“I- no. How did you… What?” you look at your hand, uncertainly eyeing what’s left of the joint, then back at him. “Are you feeling ok?”

“No. Yes.” Law swallows, unable to tear his eyes away from your lips.

“Alright… I’m sorry, I made it weird.”

“Yeah. I mean, no.” He could hit himself.

You laugh softly. It pulls at something ugly in his chest. There’s a strange sort of bitterness there he can’t explain.

“Law?”

He perks up at the sound. Your face is so close, and he leans in the tiniest bit.

The rest happens so quickly; one moment, you’re biting his lip through the kiss, the next, he’s under you, feeling your hands wander up and down his exposed torso.

Law’s mind is swirling in a haze of smoke and arousal, and a part of him knows he would never have agreed to any of this sober. But how can he bring himself to care when you’re moaning into his mouth just from grinding into him?

You had made quick work of his shirt buttons, eagerly taking in his chest without even bothering to undress him properly.

You seem to like his tattoos. Women often do. The only difference is that Law doesn’t usually care.

But he’s greedy. His sharp focus is broken up with every nip at his neck, every kiss on his pulse. His hands move further up from their spot on your hips, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. He groans when his hands make contact with warm skin, and grips you tighter.

There’s a glint in your eye at this, and you lean back with a smirk, daring him to undress you as well.

Law grins back. He knows exactly what you’re doing.

He’s read about all kinds of devil fruits with different charming properties. There are those that can make the victim fall hopelessly in love, others yet that create an arousal so deep in a person that it can only be sated by sex.

Yes, that must be it.

If only Law could focus properly on coming up with a plan. But it’s impossible with the lust clouding his senses, his own body betraying him all too willingly.

Your skin is hot when he slips your shirt off, and the sight of your bare chest makes him groan. Law lets his hands run up your sides, your plump breasts rising with every breath, goosebumps just visible in the faint glow of the moon. His thumbs brush over your nipples, feeling them pebble up under his touch.

He weighs his options, trying to decide on the wisest course of action. You’re obviously a powerful and competent user, but far too careless. The mischievous smiles you keep throwing him give you away, too eager to be believable. Your previous victims must not have seen through you this quickly.

He decides it safest to play along for now. Powers like yours are not to be underestimated, though they often are. As mind-controlling fruits, they’re easily among the most dangerous when in the hands of a skilled user. Law knows he has to play this smart.

“Hey, everything alright?” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “You seem tense. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

Something about the sincerity on your face angers him. Do you really think he’s falling for it like some idiot?

He gives your nipple a light pinch as a response. You squeak in surprise, a nervous giggle escaping you.

“Ah! Stop, you idiot. That hurts.”

He does it again for good measure, revelling in the way your eyebrows scrunch up nervously. As if you don’t have the upper hand.

But he tries to play along for now, pretending to feel bad for you. “Fine, I’ll stop. I’m considerate, remember?”

His hand brushes your cheek, and his stupid heart leaps when you lean into the touch. But you seem reassured now, hands trailing down his abdomen to the top button of his pants.

Law tries not to grit his teeth when you undo his zipper, nor when you pull the fabric down his legs and palm his erection through his boxers.

But again, your voice yanks him out of his lust for a few moments.

“Can I ask, have you done this before? I don’t mind! I just mean we can go slow, if you prefer that.”

He almost wishes you wouldn’t do this; torment him with a few seconds of clear-headedness before pulling him under again.

“Don’t worry about me,” he pants, too transfixed by how soft your stomach looks as you sit on his legs. He wonders how far inside he’ll reach, trying not to think too much about the numerous hentai stuffed under his mattress, most of which feature some anatomically… creative imagery.

You smile, and he feels the heat rising in his chest again. Do you really expect him not to realize what you’re doing when it’s this obvious? Maybe you know it doesn’t matter; he’s trapped anyway.

Law watches while you slide down your own pants, and his dick twitches when you join him on the bed again. You reach for his boxers, eyes darting up to his as if asking for permission, and let out a small breath when he springs free from the fabric.

Despite everything, Law can’t hold back a smirk. He knows he’s above average in size, and although he’s not unreasonably large, there’s a slight hesitation to your movements.

“We can go slow if you prefer,” he teases.

Your expression is playful, and Law would like to say that he hates it when you brace against his chest to lean in for another kiss, all while your other hand wraps around the base of his shaft. But it seems his mind is weaker to this sort of power than he could have ever anticipated.

You stroke him for a few agonizing seconds, turning your palm around his length with each movement, caressing your thumb over his tip and dragging it along the underside of his shaft. There’s really no point; he’s fully hard. But the sweetness of it is paralyzing, and Law finds himself once again unable to voice his inner protest for this to stop.

Before he knows it, you’re positioning yourself over him, and start to sink down. And despite not wanting any of this, Law is already dreading the end.

He can’t tear his eyes away from you while you work your way down his length, drinking in your satisfied gasp when your hips rest fully against his, and barely repressing one of his own. It’s impossible to collect himself with his cock completely inside you, the heat and slick making him twitch with need. And it’s even more hopeless once you start moving again.

It’s ecstasy and torture and everything in between. He wants to hurt you, to make you hurt him in return, to force you to fight back, to hear you moan and cry and pant in distress and to feel nothing while it happens. He wants to make you regret what you’re doing to him. But he also wants your tongue in his mouth, your fingers in his hair, his name on your lips. He wants you to want him. Craves it so desperately that it’s making him irrational.

And so, he lets it happen, listening to all your requests, following your every whim to the letter, partly mortified over how easily you’re able to use him as a toy for your pleasure, and at the same time immensely aroused by the thought.

Law knows it’s not his fault, that all this is simply due to your devil fruit. But knowing doesn’t make it any less confusing, or you any less in control of his desires.

One moment, you’re on top of him, the next, he’s wrestling you to your back, pinning your hands above your head. Smart move, although he will admit it was unexpected, even to him. But it does give him the chance he’s been waiting for. All he has to do is create a room, and he can kill you right now with a simple flick of his wrist!

But to his horror, his body acts on its own, sinking back into you without a trace of hesitation, thrusting at a pace he didn’t think he had in him.

Your face twists in discomfort, and you gasp out a soft, “Wait…”

He doesn’t. Law feels barely conscious, just floating in the irresistible cloud of desire you’ve lured him into, letting you wind it tighter and tighter around him with each passing breath.

“Ngh, Law!” You attempt to twist your wrists free from his grasp, and the struggle finally succeeds in making him pause for a moment. You look angry and a little scared, and Law wonders how you always seem to know exactly what face to put on to best to sway him. Because despite wanting to make you wail in fear for what you’re doing to him, he does feel his stupid heart soften.

“That hurts!” you reproach, “Be more careful.”

All Law can focus on is the way your chest heaves with every laboured breath, but he nods along to your request before pulling you into another kiss. If he were in his right mind, he would have kept going until you passed out, but then again, he was always too soft for this type of treatment, even towards an enemy.

He rocks back into you, slower this time, trying to find the limit based on your expressions. You don’t let him hold down your hands anymore, placing them on his shoulders instead as if to control his pace.

You still look tense but relax a bit with each thrust. It’s almost funny how you keep acting like you’re the victim in all this. Like he’s doing it of his own free will. It makes him consider for the first time the downsides to having a person violently lust for you in this way, because it seems you aren’t any more in control of him than he is. It’s a small reassurance that even your powers seem to have their limits.

But it’s not of much help to Law now. He groans at the give of your walls every time he pushes inside, at how the wetness allows him to slip past your tight entrance. You relax after a few moments, one of your hands gliding up to his nape, one traveling down your stomach. Neither of you speaks, letting the slick sounds of sex hang in the air.

Law watches the way you rub your clit, and his head falls back when you tighten around him again. Of course, a part of his mind is still fighting you, struggling against whatever spell you’ve ensnared him in. But there’s simply no winning against the combined forces of your powers and his own brain working against him, and all he can do is moan and grit his teeth when the pleasure flows over.

You must be cumming too, if your high-pitched whines are anything to go by. But he can hardly hear it over the feeling of your pulsating walls practically milking his orgasm out of him with their rhythmic clenching. And he can’t help pinning your hips to the bed when you start writhing away, determined to ride out this new feeling to the very end. Your hands are on his shoulders again, maybe out of reflex more than anything, because you aren’t telling him to stop yet.

When thrusting into you brings him more pain than pleasure, Law stills. Your face scrunches up again when he pulls out, as if your body wasn’t ready to let him go, despite your twitching legs.

Silence hangs in the air again, broken only by heavy breathing.

You watch each other for a few moments, Law waiting for the feeling of lust to finally dissipate, faintly wondering why you look so apprehensive.

His eyes wander down, and his brain short circuits when he sees the way his cum drips out of you.

Instinct makes him reach out for it just as it makes you flinch away. He glances up in surprise, but you still don’t say anything.

You look utterly spent, but it makes Law see for the first time that he does have a significant advantage over you.

He might not be able to defeat you using his devil fruit, but he can at least drive you to exhaustion by not using it; force you to burn through your energy while conserving his own. If he’d only thought of it earlier, he would have been able to pace himself better, but what’s done is done, and the fight isn’t lost just yet.

“Don’t tell me you’re tired already?” he teases, feeling immensely smug when your eyes widen in surprise.

“Aren’t you?” you ask, a little hesitant now.

Law doesn’t answer immediately. He glides a thumb up through your dripping folds until he reaches your clitoris, smearing his cum all over it, ignoring your twitch of sensitivity. The sight of your pussy drenched in him has something shameful and perverted bubbling up in his chest again, although he knows it’s likely a trick from you to make him push himself past his limits.

“I can keep going,” he finally responds. It isn’t technically a lie. Although he is tired, he’s built up his stamina over the years to compensate for the amount energy his devil fruit eats up.

“Really?” you eye him in disbelief. You must be a relatively new user, if you’re this tired already.

“Why? You giving up?” he teases.

You look away in embarrassment, mumbling under your breath, “’S not a competition…”

But Law has had enough of your persistent cuteness. He’s been patient so far, indulging in whatever sick game you’ve subjected him to for the sake of his plan, but his endurance is stretched impossibly thin, and it won’t hold much longer now that he knows he’s close to his goal.

He keeps rubbing your clit, not letting up even when you place a hand on his arm. You’re about to complain, but he interrupts you.

“You sure you’re cut out for this?”

“Huh?”

“Sailing the grand line. You may not call yourself a pirate, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t one,” he says. “And it doesn’t mean other pirates will suddenly take pity on you when you try to back out of what you started.”

“Back out? This wasn’t-”

“Don’t play stupid with me,” he snaps. “I don’t know why you lured me here, but I’m leaving as soon as whatever you did to me wears off.”

You sit up to argue, something about how you don’t know what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t let you finish that sentence either, hungrily pulling you in for another kiss. You are a good actress; he’ll give you that.

You kiss him back but push against his chest in protest when he guides you to lie down.

Law grumbles but lets you climb into his lap, quickly becoming distracted by the feeling of your body pressed against his.

The kiss deepens, and Law eases himself into you for a second time, despite your mutual wince of overstimulation. Your breasts are warm, their fat smoothing against his chest with every movement of your hips.

Here you are; sitting upright in the mess of blankets, both too stubborn to cede the advantage of being on top, yet equally unwilling to stop the push and pull of your clashing bodies that paints the air with crude smacks and hushed breaths.

Your struggle goes on well into the night, until you’re both sweat-soaked and thirsty, and entirely too fatigued to keep your guard up in front of the other.

Thanks sm for reading!!! <33 I spent WAY too long on this so I don't even know if it even makes sense anymore from how much i've edited it. Also i came up wkth the name shrimp island mostly as a place holder and ended up finding it really cute so it stayed. Anyway thank you all for being so amazing and patient with my slow updates. I love you <3

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