#blackbeard x reader

kiss

van augur x gn!reader

summary: Augur tends to get a little… too excited.

Blackbeard Pirates x Reader

Summary: reaction to their crush falling asleep on them

It's not what it looks like!

Caesar Clown x f!reader

Summary: The ship has taken on a few more guests, the overcrowded Straw-Hat vessel now struggling to accommodate the number. Offering your room to the prisoner, Caesar Clown, you returned to find a sight you were ill-prepared to meet. Caesar had found your secret, and had them over his nose and mouth while chasing his high into his gloved fist.

Sick with jealousy

Caesar Clown x gn!Reader

Summary: Caesar is so jealous that swears he gets sick.

Surprise! ... Or Not

Caesar Clown X Reader

Summary: He's just so attached to you for some reason, so it's hard to slip away and make him a gift...

Choke

Caesar Clown x Female Reader

Summary: You knew your taste in men was questionable at best, downright bad most of the time. But Caesar fucking Clown, now that was an all-time low, even for you.

Still, how could you resist the pretty scientist? It was truly an impossible task.

Caesar Clown x female reader headcanons

A Beauty And Her Reptilian: Chapter 1

Crocodile x fem!Reader

Starling

Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader

Summary: You were the darling of the Red Line - The Starling. An untouched omega who endured the terrors of unassisted heats for the entertainment of the Celestial Dragons.

Until it finally breaks you.

Poor shattered bird, taken from your gilded cage. Just what will you find between the teeth of a Crocodile?

Beauty and Beast Effect

Crocodile x FemReader

Imagine Getting Baby Fever with Crocodile

fur & feathers

crocodile x afab!reader x donquixote doflamingo

Summary: You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead. (18+)

private party

donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader

Summary: It's too goddamn hot out, so Doflamingo surrenders his strength to join you in the pool. (18+)

Young Master

Doflamingo x afab!reader

summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much.

Doflamingo having a mommy kink

Soaked Sheets and Open Lines

King x reader

Summary: He answers a den den mushi mid fuck without stopping. You try to be good, quiet, obedient, but when his hand wraps around your throat and you moan involuntarily… the line goes silent.

Tobi Roppo x reader

Summary: Reader who’s got a service kink and is sorta with the crew but also just kinda the glory hole

Four encounters

Arlong x freed!slave Reader

Swimming with Sharks

Arlong x F!Reader

Under your Spell

Sun Pirate!Arlong x human!reader

get you some arlong

Arlong x Reader 18+

Saltwater and soft hands

Arlong x gn!human!Reader

Summary: Arlong, barely alive, is getting treatment of a HUMAN. He hates it. But oh, (g/n) Y/N has quite the soft– No, he can't break. Can he?

Law

Your opponent is quicker than you're used to. As a cat mink, his reflexes are far better than yours. However, he fights unarmed while you use twin short swords, so you're able to keep some distance between you and even the playing field.

You tilt your head left to avoid his swipe, claws barely missing your face. Acting quickly, you return with a jab that pierces his armor and stabs into his shoulder. He hisses in pain and you grin–that's one arm he can't use anymore.

Your moment of confidence makes you slip up. Focused on the movement of his remaining arm, you're taken by surprise when he suddenly kicks one of your swords right out of your hand. He hasn’t used kicks at all until now, likely to catch you off-guard like this. Before you can recover, he follows up by thrusting his claws into your chest, digging in and unleashing electricity into your body.

Law looks over just in time to see you drop like a stone. “Y/n-ya!” he shouts–but you're unresponsive. He turns to Bepo, fighting by his side. “Bepo! Count to two, then kick as hard as you can where I am!”

Bepo, wisened to Law’s tactics, nods. “Aye-aye!”

Law flexes his fingers. “Room!”

The sphere of his power expands wide to cover the battlefield. He swaps places with the cat mink, hearing it yowl a moment later as Bepo’s foot connects with its gut. Grabbing your arm, he creates one more room from where he is and teleports you both to its perimeter, a safe distance from the fight. Aside from some bloody claw marks, he can't see major injuries.

“Scan!” Law calls, voice tinged with panic as his ability checks your vitals. To his horror, the scan of your body shows your heart has stopped entirely, and his own seems to follow suit. He quickly removes your heart from your body, holding it in his hand. Focusing, he runs his own electric current through your heart in a swift, measured jolt.

The muscle twitches once and remains still.

“No, no, come on.” Law tries again. Zap. No response. “Don’t you do this.” He tries again. Zap. And again, no response. “Come back.” Zap. Your heart is still.

This time, he uses both hands and runs a higher voltage, shouting, “Come back right now!” Your heart jumps–then, finally, starts to beat. The relief is almost nauseating.

Clutching your heart to his chest with one hand, Law tilts your jaw open with his other hand and seals his mouth over yours, delivering rescue breaths until he feels you start to breathe on your own.

Slowly, your eyes open, your breaths shallow but even. He's hovering right over your head, looking into your eyes. “Law?”

“Just stay still.” He runs another scan, making sure everything's running normally.

You try to get up, fighting the sluggishness of your body. “The fight–”

“It’s still going. Lie down.” Law pushes your shoulder, forcing you to recline.

“Then you need to go help them.”

“The rest of the crew has it handled. I'm not leaving you.”

You’re not sure what happened–everything went black while you were fighting–but whatever it was, it must have been bad if Law’s saying that. Still, you’re eager to rejoin the battle. “Am I going to die?” you ask stubbornly as you try to sit up again.

“Don't be ridiculous. I'd never let that happen. Lie down, Y/n-ya.”

Law doesn't let you fight. He doesn’t even let you get up, not until he's checked everything–blood pressure, oxygen level, potential blood clots, your ability to follow commands–and even then, he doesn't give you your heart back, stating he needs to keep an eye on it for a while “just in case.” The battle ends in victory, and you walk back to the crew with a square hole in your chest.

You don't know much about electric shock effects, but you suppose it's okay to make sure your heart hasn't been thrown out of rhythm. It is weird to go about your day with the hole in your body. And it’s weird to feel Law’s fingers around your heart. It’s difficult to describe–a sort of warm, sensitive, almost ticklish physical contact that you feel within your chest, despite it being outside your body. Every time Law picks up your heart, you’re aware. You don’t know where he keeps it, but it must be somewhere on his person; you feel it at random throughout the day or as you’re laying in bed at night. You can infer he stays up late, as you often fall asleep to the sensation of him holding it in his hand. 

Throughout all those days, you’ve never felt more secure, never slept more soundly than when you do knowing he’s keeping your very heart safe by his side.

Every day Law does another exam, taking the time to run a scan on your body. It seems a bit excessive to you, but you’re not about to tell him that. You’re just grateful for the attention, truth be told. You and Law have been close for a while now, even exchanging some fond words in the rare moments you’re alone, but neither of you have the courage to risk damaging your friendship. But having him literally hold onto your heart makes you feel linked to him in a way you never have before, and it’s driving you insane.

“All clear?” you ask as Law finishes another scan.

“Yes, you look good,” he says, making your cheeks warm at the phrasing, “though, occasionally your heart rate picks up when you’re at a resting state. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I will.” He holds up your heart in front of his face, scratching his beard with his other hand as he thinks. “Like now.”

That answer is fairly obvious to you, and entirely his fault. Watching him inspect your heart so closely makes you oddly nervous. And he puts his hands on you during these exams, too, feeling lymph nodes on your neck and instructing you to breathe in and out while he listens to your lungs. What are you supposed to do? You can’t help it. It’s involuntary.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

Well, there was a hole where your heart should be that only he could fill. But you don’t say that. You just mumble, “I feel fine.”

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.” Aside from some fatigue in the beginning, you’ve otherwise been back to normal. “What do you think? Can I have it back?”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, one more day, then, just to be safe. Do you mind?”

“No, I don’t,” you say. “It’s weirdly comforting, to be honest.”

“How?” Law looks at you incredulously. “I could crush your heart in my hand right now.”

Of course that would be his perspective. The risk of trusting someone so intimately isn’t lost on him. But after all these years, you would easily trust Law with your life, so you simply shrug. “You wouldn’t break my heart, would you?”

He stiffens. Surely you didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but the way you say it–so earnestly, so innocently, looking at him with those big doe eyes of yours–he can’t help but feel a pang of longing. He desperately wants to protect you, to make right where he failed in the past. Law wants to reassure you, to bring you comfort that he hasn’t figured out how to give.

Instead, he says, “No.”

“Promise?” you ask softly.

“I promise, Y/n-ya.” Your heart beats faster in his hand. Law looks down at it, then at you, and there’s a flash of understanding in his eyes.

“Okay,” you say. If he’s finally figured it out, maybe…maybe this is your chance. “Prove it.”

“How?” He looks a bit shocked, and the way his eyes keep flitting between your heart and your face tells you that he knows exactly how. 

You’re slow in your approach, and even slower when you put your arms around his neck, giving him plenty of time to back away. He’s uncertain, frozen in place, but if he wants you to stop, he isn’t saying so.

You lean in. Law closes his eyes. Your heart beats like crazy in his hand.

You kiss him. Just a brief, soft touch of your lips.

“Law,” you breathe. “Was that okay?”

Law responds by cupping your cheek and pulling you in for another.

Afterwards, he jokes that he doesn’t want to give your heart back. But that’s alright. Truth be told, he’d stolen it a long time ago.

Shanks

You return to consciousness through a cloud of black spots in your eyes, flashing in and out of your vision like raindrops on glass. It's immediately accompanied by the piercing whine of your ears ringing. You can’t hear anything else, nor can you tell where you are. A battle…you were pretty sure there was a battle. 

The spots recede to the edges of your vision, and you can see a cloudy sky, filling with gray smoke. You’re on your back. Faintly, you can hear shouts, filtering in through the shrill whine. A few seconds later, your brain starts putting names to the voices. Yasopp, Benn, Shanks.

Your captain’s face fills your vision a moment later. Instantly, you know something is very, very wrong, because you’ve never seen Shanks look panicked before. It’s just not an emotion in his repertoire. Always cool, always collected, always joyful, until now. He’s shouting something–your name.

“–you hear me? Just hang on. Hongo’s on his way. Fuck, fuck!”

“...Shanks…” you rasp, dimly becoming aware of your body. “What happened…?”

“It’s my fault, I didn’t stop them in time, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

It’s distant, but pain starts trickling through your body. Dull, throbbing pain, everywhere. Well, almost everywhere.

“It’s okay,” you say, trying to raise your head to assess yourself.

“Don’t!” Shanks stops you with a hand on your forehead. “Don’t move.”

Gradually, you start remembering the battle. The chaos, the noise. Now, there’s no more sound except the ringing in your ears, so it must be over. You were fighting someone who specialized in explosives, that was it. That explained the hurt, and the confusion.

“I was hit,” you say slowly.

Shanks just nods, looking grim.

Benn appears on your other side, crouching next to you and frowning. You search his face for an idea of the damage, but he keeps it carefully still as he looks you up and down. Then his eyes meet Shanks’, and they exchange a look that gives you a bad feeling.

As the ringing dies down just a little and your vision clears, the pain grows. It’s distracting, more so than you’re used to, but what’s even more distracting is the particular lack of it where it should be.

“...Shanks?” you say. “I can’t feel my leg.”

His lower lip wobbles, and then his lips press together in a tight, thin line, and that’s when you know. You lift your head to try and see, but he stops you again. “Don’t look. It’s better if you don’t look.”

It’s funny–he looks like the one on the verge of falling apart. You hate to see him so distraught, so unlike himself, all his cheerful confidence vanished.

“It’s my left leg…” you say.

“Yeah...”

“That means we match.”

He smiles ruefully, tears breaking from his lash line and running free. “Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” you say, reaching for his hand.

He takes it gently. “That’s my line.”

Coping is a funny thing. You spend most of your energy post-surgery comforting Shanks. Not because he can’t handle it by himself, and not because he asks you too. It’s just easier to externalize the situation, to make it about his self-blame rather than address the gaping loss of your body.

Shanks tries to hide it from you, to not burden you, but you know him too well. Eventually, you get tired of how he drinks himself into a stupor most nights. You get tired of how your crutches irritate your armpits, tired of how you keep losing balance, tired of the phantom pains that shoot through nerves that aren’t there anymore. You snap at him. You shout. You cry that blaming himself won’t regrow your leg, so can’t he please just be there for you? You need him–you’ve always needed him–now more than ever before.

It’s an ugly, broken confession, but it finally reaches him.

Shanks pulls you in close and apologizes. His eyes are moist even though he’s not usually a crier, overwhelmed by what he’s put you through, overwhelmed that you’re finally admitting your feelings under such nightmarish conditions.

“I love you,” he whispers, over and over. “I love you.”

Healing is both easier after that, and yet harder. Now, with no distraction from your loss, you have to face it head on. It’s easier because he’s there. That he’s been through this before makes you cling to him more than you would have, surrounding yourself in the grim comforts of someone who understands. Shanks holds you tight on those nights when you scream “it’s gone,” over and over, lets you squeeze his hand when you have phantom pain, helps you shower when you can’t manage it by yourself, supports you on your first shaky steps using the prosthetic. The recovery journey is an arduous one, but you make it out the other side closer than ever before.

Years later, it’s something you can joke about without feeling that twinge of loss, especially when your crewmates call you and Shanks a complementary set. Now that you’re finally official with him and back to your full battle capacity, you can appreciate what happened to you for what it proved: that together, you and Shanks are complete.

Mihawk

You and Mihawk were opposite sides of the same coin. As different as you could be from each other, but still inexplicably connected as longtime rivals. Being warlords was the only thing you really had in common: He was a swordsman, you used guns; he sailed alone, you commanded a large crew; his colors of arms was better, your colors of observation was better. He preferred not to talk much, while you loved to egg him into trading banter. Many clashes with each other throughout the years solidified your strange, thrilling rivalry until you looked forward to the rare times you ran into each other.

Nowadays, you only really see each other during warlord meetings. So, when you were ambushed by your own crew, Mihawk was the last person you expected to save you.

He took out the four men holding you down, tossed you your pistols, and fought by your side. Your crew wasn’t weak by any means– you hand-picked them to sail with you–and had you been alone, you wouldn't have survived. With your combined strength, however, the battle was over quickly.

It surprised Mihawk, then, that you didn't stick around to bother him like you usually did. You fired a smoke round and disappeared. He figured that you were demoralized from the mutiny and didn't have it in you, but when the smoke cleared, he saw tell-tale drops of blood where you were. 

Mihawk finds you in an abandoned shed not far from the battle. You're panting, hunched down against the wall and facing away from him, a first aid kit at your feet. He's as quiet as a cat when he approaches, but naturally you sense him anyway.

“How did you find me?” you ask without looking up.

“I followed the blood trail,” he says flatly. “You should have stemmed the flow before running off.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Did you tie a tourniquet first?” he asks, and even from there he can see you roll your eyes.

“Can’t. It’s not in the right place.” You raise shaky arms to your head, fiddling with something–stitches, most likely.

“Let me see.”

You glare at him for a moment, eyes uncharacteristically hard and angry. Then you quietly relent by turning, letting him see your other side. There’s a long, deep gash going from your temple down to your neck. Still oozing blood, he can't see for sure, but estimates it's gone down to the bone. You’ve got a few crude, clumsy stitches started in the top, the needle hanging from the wire, but without being able to see what you’re doing, it’s a piss poor job.

Mihawk wordlessly approaches you and crouches down, sharp gold eyes fixed on your wound. “It needs to be redone,” he says, unsheathing Kogatana and cutting through your stitches. You don’t so much as flinch when he pulls the wires out–you wouldn’t dare in front of him, he supposes. He’d likely do the same. Maybe you were more alike than he thought. 

He takes the first aid kid from the ground and re-threads the needle, then starts to stitch your wound, pressing gauze to soak up the blood as he goes. “It's deep,” he says.

”That explains why it stings so bad,” you mumble. While you successfully resist the urge to wince, you can’t stop yourself from tearing up. “Man…”

“It could be worse. It went down to your skull, but the bone itself wasn't damaged.”

“What, are you trying to cheer me up?” You turn to look at him, but he tilts your chin back to the side and chides you to hold still.

You exhale harshly through your nose at the unpleasant sensation. “I hate needles,” you say suddenly. “I hate sharp things in general. The thought of a blade going through skin gives me the creeps.” He doesn’t respond, and you feel awkward, but you continue anyway, feeling the words tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “I’ve teased you about using swords, but the truth is, I could never.”

Mihawk doesn’t pause in his stitching, only hums. “If it’s worth anything, I’m a terrible shot.”

The corner of your lip twitches up. It does make you feel a little better, to be honest. 

You glance at the swordsman as he works. His eyes are always so much more intense up close. You used to find it unsettling, but right now, focused as they are on your wound, it just seems oddly endearing. You glance away, blinking quickly, and a tear breaks from your lash line.

When Mihawk pauses to wipe it away, it’s so fluid and unhesitating that you debate if it really happened at all. Warmth creeps into your cheeks, and you avoid looking at him.

“Hey, ‘Hawk,” you say.

“What?”

You stare at the ground carefully. “Why did you help me?”

He’s quiet for a while, perhaps thinking about his answer, perhaps just keeping up his mysterious image.

“You’re the only one who’s ever successfully shot me,” he finally says. “To think someone of your caliber would be taken out by such cowardly tactics doesn’t sit right with me.”

You let that sink in while he finishes his work, tying off the stitches and applying the bandages. It’s weird–all the times you’ve bickered, all the times you’ve fought with lethal intent, and yet you trust with all your heart that Mihawk won’t harm you right now.

You’ve let your guard down too much, you think to yourself. That’s how you missed the warning signs of your crew’s mutiny, that’s how you got injured in battle, that’s how you’ve let Mihawk get this close.

Even then, you find yourself leaning your head into his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just brushes his thumb over your cheek.

The reality of what you’re doing hits you a moment later, and you quickly stand up, only for the world to spin and your knees to buckle.

Mihawk catches you easily. “You've lost a lot of blood.”

“It'll refill,” you mumble.

“In time. You need to rest.”

“Alright, alright,” you say. His hold is so secure, you kind of never want him to let go. Damn, you have lost a lot of blood. “I owe you for this, Mihawk. Somehow I'll pay you back.”

“How about dinner?” he asks, and you’re so caught off-guard that you stare owlishly.

“H-Hey, come on, now,” you say, but Mihawk has never really been one to joke. There's a crack in your confident demeanor. “Serious?”

“Serious.” He takes your hand, raising it to his lips, and kisses your knuckles.

Rosinante

“It’s not a fucking show,” you snap at the crew, crowded around where you are in the med bay of the Numenca Flamingo. Doflamingo is bent over the wound in your side, a string attaching his finger to the bullet still inside. Corazon holds your body down.

“You gonna scream?” Diamante teases cruelly, but you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that, huh, you sick–FUCK!” you shriek at the end as Doflamingo yanks out the bullet, body jerking against Corazon's iron grip. Diamante and Trebol both chuckle like the bastards they are, but Doflamingo waves them and the rest away as he moves in to disinfect the area.

You shiver, fighting not to tear up in front of the two of them. It is of the utmost importance not to show weakness around Doflamingo. After years of dedication and rigorous work, you’ve clawed your way into a promotion from a top Donquixote Pirate to one of the people in his Family.

It’s imperative, as an undercover Marine, that you don’t lose this chance. Your job is to support Corazon. You’d rather not cry in front of him, either, but that’s more about pride than anything else.

Doflamingo traces your hip as he finishes sewing you up with his string. “Buffalo said you took the bullet for Baby 5.” 

You stiffen at his touch, an oddly soft contrast to the string that nonetheless makes you ill at ease. “Yes, Young Master.” Are you in trouble? You don’t want to act soft, but you couldn’t stand by and let a child get shot, either.

“I see,” he says, and you hold your breath. “I’d expect no less from someone I hand-picked.”

He pats your head once, then leaves the room, and relief courses through your veins alongside the adrenaline.

Corazon gives you a look you can’t decipher. He doesn’t speak to you, of course–too risky. His voice is a distant memory at this point, all the way from back when you were in training together.

A few uneventful days pass as the crew sails back to base with their spoils. The pain in your side seems to spread to right below your gut, intensifying as it goes. The wound area isn’t red or swollen, so you realize you must have gotten your period on top of everything. Great.

You’re the unlucky type that suffers from hellish, unpredictable menstruation, the pain often debilitating enough to put you out of commission until it abates. It was easier to cover up back in the Marines, feigning illness, but you wouldn’t be granted such liberties in the pirate world. You've had to fight through the agony to keep up your appearance as a tough-as-nails pirate commander. It seemed you were being tested again, as now you had to resist while under watch of the Family.

The cramps continue to get worse by the day until you’re nauseated from the pain. You end up vomiting over the side of the ship more than once, which you claim is from eating bad food. You try everything to take your focus off the pain. Meditation, breathing exercises. But for some reason, it just keeps getting worse. There’s one day where it seems to slightly abate, and you go to bed believing you’re past the worst of it, only to wake up the next day in complete, room-spinning agony. Moving makes it worse, every time you go to the bathroom or help with the ship tasks it feels like you might pass out. You can’t get comfortable no matter which position you lay in, and you sweat like crazy even though it’s cold.

You’re shaky while you help haul in ropes, thoughts so consumed by how terrible you feel that you jump when Corazon taps your shoulder. He scribbles something on his notepad, then shows it to you. 

‘You look like shit.’

“That obvious?” you ask, even as your guts and head both swim in a thick fog of pain. Corazon scribbles some more.

‘Your pain tolerance is high. This is unusual for you.’

“It’ll pass,” you respond, turning away from him. He starts writing letters on your back, something he does to make absolutely sure no one can read your conversation later through his notepad.

‘Worried.’

The guilt eats at you before he can even finish writing it. As Doflamingo’s right hand, Corazon has himself to worry about. You’re supposed to make his job easier, not be dead weight. So even though this is the worst it’s ever been, even though you just want to cry at how much it hurts, you steel yourself. You can’t crumble now. “I’ll be okay, Cora,” you dismiss.

Law stands at the foot of your hammock that night as you writhe, a curious Baby 5 next to him.

“What do you want, Law,” you grit out.

“List your primary symptoms,” Law says. You glance at him to see he’s holding a notepad and pencil. “Also, you should let me look at how your wound’s healing.”

“I don’t need the opinion of an eight year old,” you spit, the pain making you lash out. You’ve already looked at your wound, you’ve dealt with many in the past, and the area around your incision looks fine.

Law clenches his fists, irritated. “You’re being a real bitch.”

Baby 5 gasps. Law shoots her a glare that makes her whimper and hide behind your hammock. He mutters to himself as he storms out.

“Why don’t you tell someone if you’re feeling bad?” Baby 5 asks timidly once Law’s gone.

“Because,” you say, taking a deep breath to try to focus on getting the words out. “I don’t have a devil fruit. My haki abilities are rudimentary. I can’t fall behind, Baby 5. I want to be useful to the Young Master.”

“I don’t understand.”

“One day you’ll get cramps, and hopefully they won’t be this bad. But when it happens, you have to be tough and not let anyone know. It’s looked down upon by those who don’t get them. You’ll be left behind…”

“That’s gonna happen to me?” Baby 5 looks worried.

You try to reassure her that since she’s handled everything the adults have thrown at her thus far, she’ll be fine. Baby 5 doesn’t look convinced, but you don’t have it in you to care right then.

By the next day the pain is so searingly, blindingly intense that no amount of willpower can overcome it. You’re woken up by it, and this time it’s unmatched by all the previous days combined. It feels like someone’s poured molten lava into your guts. It feels like your organs are being ripped out of your body. Pressing a pillow into your gut gives you a fraction of relief, but even the slightest relief is like heaven when the pain is that bad–until you’re ripped back down, not to earth, but to hell, and it’s agony all over again.

Somehow, you manage to get out of your hammock, only to end up on your knees on the floor, holding your stomach and making pitiful noises.

Distantly, you get the sensation that Corazon is writing words on your back, but you’re so out of it that you can’t parse them.

“Need help,” you whimper, voice breaking.

Corazon sends someone to get Doflamingo, who has Law assess you. After taking your vitals and pressing on your abdomen (you’ve never considered killing a child before, but it hurts so bad that you scream) Law declares you need to be hospitalized immediately, and also says he told you so just to rub salt in the wound.

It’s a miracle that there’s an island within a few hour’s sail. You don’t remember those hours very well. It’s in and out, coming and going with the waves of pain. All you remember is Corazon, staying by your side the entire time. He keeps the crueler Family members away from you, lets you squeeze his hand for comfort, holds your hair back when you throw up. When you make it to the island, he’s the one to carry you to the hospital.

You get palpated again by the hospital doctors (your own special hell) while Corazon holds your hand, get scanned by a machine, and finally diagnosed with a severe infection that’s gone septic. Post-surgery finally has you in relief, doped up on painkillers, but very, very weak.

Recovery is its own trial. Combined with the strength of the painkillers, plus your body fighting off the infection, you see things when you close your eyes. You’re not sure if members of the Family come to visit you, or if you’re imagining they were there. The only constant is Corazon.

You wake up one night to see him hunched over in a too-small chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even half-awake, you get the sudden sense that he’s trying not to cry. He probably wouldn’t want to see you like that, and you’re so, so tired still, so you go back to sleep.

You dream that he speaks to you. Perhaps it’s a memory, but when you wake up, you see his silhouette in the door.

“Cora?” You smile, lifting your head, but your smile dies when you see Doflamingo stepping inside. 

“Young Master,” you say weakly. Why is he visiting you alone? What could he possibly want, aside from telling you that you were demoted?

“Baby 5 was inconsolable,” he starts, sauntering up to your bed. “Someone told her she’d suffer the same condition that you did. Then she said something strange...” He trails a hand on the railing of your bed as he walks up to your side, looming over you. “She begged us not to abandon her.” You feel your blood run cold as Doflamingo grins. “What a silly notion.”

You open your mouth to speak, but can’t find the words. He reaches out a hand to brush back your hair and cup your cheek. It takes everything in you not to flinch away.

“Could it be, perhaps, you thought I’d abandon you, Y/n?” he asks, your daunted face reflected crimson in his sunglasses.

Swallowing, you nod, and he grips your chin harshly.

“In your concern, you almost got yourself killed,” he says. “I selected you to join me for a reason. You're no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

You nod quickly, and after another terrifying moment where he stares into your eyes–maybe your soul–he finally leaves.

Corazon writes furiously later, berating you for being so dismissive of your own condition. 

‘You were on death’s door! Your CRP was over 200!’ 

“How much is it supposed to be?”

‘Zero! Fool!!’

You apologize endlessly, and more so as he helps you recover, until he gets sick of your apologies, too–but when he takes your hand, his gaze is soft.

From here on out, no more suffering alone, he writes into your palm, we fight together.

He holds your hand in both of his larger ones and, doing a quick check to make sure you’re still alone, brushes his lips against the tips of your fingers.

Suddenly you understand just how much he’s longed not to fight alone in his mission, and how important it is for you to be there. You bow your head, pull his hands so they’re at your chest, and kiss the back of one. “I understand.”

Blackbeard

Comparatively, you are the better in sheer physical strength to your opponent, but the other pirate outspeeds you. You fail to dodge back far enough from the downward stab of his dagger, and it sinks into the meat of your thigh.

You snarl in pain while he roars in triumph. His roar gets cut off as you suddenly grab his throat.

“Insect!” you snarl as you squeeze hard, grinding his windpipe to his spine. He flails, making horrid choking noises and digging his nails into your hand. There’s a brief struggle where he tries to reach the dagger in your thigh, but you grab his wrist before he can and, with a surge of armament haki, snap it in your grip. He can’t even cry out like this, just writhes around like mad, and you wait a few more seconds before the blood flow is cut off to his brain for too long, and he goes limp.

The rest of the crew watches from the seats of the bar as you snap his neck sharply before letting him drop. The other patrons of the seedy bar cheer, and cash is begrudgingly exchanged while you hobble back to the Blackbeard Pirates. Doc Q starts to look over your leg as you lean against the bar.

“Thirty seconds,” Lafitte says, looking at his pocket watch, “you said it would take you ten.”

“Shut the fuck up, Lafitte,” you warn. The pain wracking through your leg gives you no patience for his snide commentary. “Or I’ll choke you out next.”

“Promise?”

In an instant, you yank the knife out of your thigh and stab it into Lafitte’s so deep it’s almost at the hilt. He screams while Doc Q yells at you, “Don’t pull out the knife–!”

“They fucking stabbed me!” Lafitte shrieks as Blackbeard, Burgess and Auger burst out into laughter. 

“I missed your femoral on purpose,” you grumble. “Next time I won’t.”

Doc Q rushes to stem the bleeding from your thigh, and you cross your arms, trying to quell your temper. Because the Doc has to sew you up first, Lafitte will have to wait a while with that dagger sunken into his leg. It’s a fitting punishment, but you still kind of want to kill him.

Blackbeard, wearing his shitty grin, drapes his arm around your shoulders. You throw him a warning look that he ignores, as usual. Most times he does this, you push his arm away and otherwise reject him to his face. This is one of the rare times you don't. You’re still in a lot of pain, and there’s pretty much nowhere else–no one else–on this planet that you could get a comforting touch from. You let him hold you to his side, if only to abate the burning of your injury, and ever so slightly, you feel your rage boil down to a simmer.

“Better, trinket?” Blackbeard asks you, smirking.

You felt stuck in place, not thinking for a second that Ace had a chance of losing. Until he did and the fight was over so fast that part of your brain was still pumping adrenaline like the fight wasn’t over.

Millions of thoughts raced through your head as the traitor’s new crew surrounded your commander. You weren’t really a fighter, at least not one that could match against a commander, you had been assigned and promoted within the second division for your excellent navigational skills; your prowess in combat was mediocre. But there had to be something you could do for Ace, to get him out of the situation that Blackbeard was describing, a cold and lonely trip down to hell, with a stop over in Impel Down first.

Your mind stopped at a thought and then stubbornly refused to budge from its idea, even as a sinking dread filled your stomach at the realization that Blackbeard was sexually attracted. He had made no show at hiding it, often making lewd comments within your earshot, if not directly to your face, about having you in his bed instead of working in the second division.

You had brushed most of those comments off at the time, letting your commander handle the worst instances, but now the memories were coming back at full force, a horrible semblance of a plan forming in your head.

Even as you stood up from behind the bush, making your way towards the assembled crew crowding around a tied up Ace on unsteady feet, the rational part of your brain screamed at you that this plan would never work, why would Teach ever take you over a bargaining chip for the marines. But Blackbeard was never a rational man, even at his best, and this was the only plan you had, so you forced yourself to continue walking.

Blackbeard was the first to notice your approach, a big toothy grin splitting across his face at the sight of you. Your stomach churned in revulsion at why that might be.

“And why might you be here, little lady?” Blackbeard’s voice is relaxed and chipper, as if she had just walked into the galley for lunch and not interrupted the chaining up of your (and his former) commander. Ugh you had hated that nickname even when it was said endearingly by your division members and it was even worse coming from his mouth at that moment.

You ignored Ace’s groans from behind the seastone gag, terrified eyes staring at you as if he was telling you to run. You had to look up and focus on Blackbeard instead, guilt from not helping sooner, though there was nothing really for you to do before now, burning in your chest.

“Let,” You took a deep breath to steady your voice, ”Let Ace go.” The surrounding crew burst into laughter but you paid them no mind, shaking hands balled into fists as you stared directly at the traitorous Teach. Though he was laughing like the rest of his crew, unlike them, Blackbeard seemed to be considering something, staring at you with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t decipher.

Once the laughter died down, Ace still struggling against his bonds and trying to speak through the gag in his mouth, Blackbeard spoke, “And what would I get in return for letting him go?”

“Me. In your bed. Willingly, permanently.” Your words came out clearer and steadier than you thought it would as you threw away the rest of your free life for a deal that might not even work. Blackbeard could just decide to say no and kidnap you anyway, taking you into his bed unwillingly.

The silence from Blackbeard’s crew as he thought about your words was bone chilling, like each of them was looking at you in a different light, sizing you up like a slab of meat to be divvied up between a pack of hungry hyenas.

“I’ll take that deal,” Blackbeard’s grin was blinding even with the missing gaps where his teeth had fallen out and a rush of relief flooded through your body before getting replaced by an empty horror at what you had gotten yourself into, “On one condition.”

Blackbeard held up a finger, smiling and looking entirely pleased with himself as he paused and cleared his throat, for dramatic effect most likely, before continuing.

“Our dear commander Ace joins us for a night. Would be rude not to share with our division leader, right?” His voice was smug, like he had all of the power in this conversation and he did. You had to accept, there was no other solution, no other option to save your commander.

“And then you’ll let him go after?” The horror, now a yawning chasm, spread from your chest to your stomach. You had had feelings for your commander for a while, and eventually you were hoping to work up the courage to confess them, but this was not the time or the place. You didn’t want to force Ace into anything, but you had no choice.

“Of course. Pirate’s word.” Blackbeard placed a solemn hand on his chest before a leer overtook his features. He stepped forward, dwarfing you in his shadow and looming closer. You almost reflexively took a step back before remembering your wording of the deal. You had to be a willing participant with Blackbeard, or at least act like you were willing to sleep with him, so you forced yourself to stay put.

“Boys, bring our guest to my cabin. I’m going to escort the lady back to the ship.” Blackbeard emphasized the word lady with a leer down at you and a hand clamped down on your shoulder. You heard the sounds of chains shifting and rattling alongside Ace’s muffled yells as Blackbeard forcibly turned you around and began leading you back to his ship, steering you with the hand still tightly holding onto your shoulder.

You forced yourself to ignore the sounds behind you and focused on keeping pace with Blackbeard, though with how strong his grip was on your shoulder it's not like you had a choice, all you could do was steel yourself in preparation for the night ahead of you.

The walk to Blackbeard’s ship and the harbor felt shorter than when you had snuck in behind Striker, but that could also be the pace Blackbeard was setting, your legs were much shorter than his and you nearly had to run to keep up.

His ship loomed large as you got closer, smaller than the Moby Dick but much more frightening and without any of the warmth you were used to. He had obviously stolen it from some other poor pirate crew as the former markings were hastily scribbled over to make room for Blackbeard’s new jolly roger plastered all over the ship. He very obviously wanted to make a name for himself, outside of Pop’s crew, your family.

The very sight of the ship revulsed you, a stark reminder of who Blackbeard truly was and what he had done in the search for power. But you forced the nausea down, all of this was to save Ace. Ace who was much stronger than you and could make it back to the crew alive to fight another day, this was the only way you could repay his protection as your commander so you weren’t going to do anything to jeopardize his safety. Even if that meant politely nodding along as Blackbeard gave you an quick tour of the ship as he guided you down to the Captain’s Quarters.

“This is where you will be staying.” Blackbeard all but purred, opening the door to a large messy room just covered in treasure. The layout was similar to the bits of the commander’s rooms you had seen on the Moby, just larger and more decadent. Blackbeard seemed to really enjoy looking at his treasure and wealth. And with a horrified thump of your heart, you realized you were now one of those treasures.

Blackbeard sat down hard on the bed, sweeping away pieces of gold and jewelry to make room before he pulled you onto his lap. You felt frozen, fear finally settling into your stomach at what you had gotten yourself into, but you fought to keep anything other than a polite smile off of your face.

“My apologies for the messy room. I wasn’t expecting to host such a lovely lady like yourself.” He chuckled to himself as his big clammy hands began to run up and down your sides, pinching and prodding like you were an object that belonged to him.

You choked down your hate and fear to smile placidly at him. You just needed to get through tonight, until Ace got released, and then you could recalibrate and figure out what to do. But right now your focus was Ace’s safety.

“It’s not that messy. The room looks nice like this.” You lied out of your teeth, trying to keep your composure even as Blackbeard’s wandering hands slipped under your clothes, grabbing at your sides greedily.

“A woman after my own heart. I knew you’d eventually come around to warming my bed, it just took some time.” You tried to look away from the smug smile adorning Blackbeard’s face but just as you did, one of his hands shot out of your shirt to grip your chin, tilting your face up until you were forced to look at him.

After a moment of studying you, Blackbeard crashed his lips greedily into yours, his free hand groping at your breasts through the fabric of your bra. You let your eyes flutter shut and did your best to relax into the kiss, let Blackbeard plunder your mouth with his tongue without complaint, but it was hard.

Every time that you tricked yourself into thinking that literally anybody else was kissing you, his disgusting scent and the taste of strong alcohol coating his tongue reminded you of reality. Unbidden, tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, both from being out of breath and from your current situation. You desperately willed the tears to go away, you didn’t know if Blackbeard wanted you to cry or not and you really couldn’t risk angering him right now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying not to gag on Blackbeard’s tongue, he broke the kiss, just as black spots began to dance in your vision from lack of air. You gasped greedily for breath, unable to do much of anything else as Blackbeard began manhandling you off of his lap and onto the bed.

The pit in your stomach grew colder and tighter as Blackbeard loomed over your prone body, leering down at you in such a way you felt naked, even with all of your clothes still on. It was all you could do to keep that fear off of your face as much as you could.

Though your clothes weren’t intact on your body for long, Blackbeard groaning to himself as he ripped your shirt and pants off of your body, discarding the scraps of fabric off to the side. Your thighs clenched together as much as they could and your hands twitched in an attempt to cover your chest. You felt overly vulnerable under Blackbeard’s gaze, clad in only your bra and panties.

But Blackbeard didn’t let you cover yourself for long, hands shoving your thighs apart as far as they could go, twinging painfully, so he could attempt to fit himself in between your legs. You could feel the large bulge tenting his pants and a shiver of fear ran through you. Dark tendrils of shadow, Blackbeard’s devil fruit, wrapped around your wrists, tugging them up and above your head to display your chest, still covered by your bra, to Blackbeard.

He whistled in appreciation as he tore off your bra, the broken clasps scraping against your back. Nearly subconsciously your hands tugged down, in an attempt to cover yourself, but you were stopped by the tendrils wrapping around your wrists even tighter, squeezing as if to tell you to stop moving. You took the hint.

“What’s this?” Blackbeard laughed as one of his thick fingers ran across your panties. Fuck, there was a wet spot on the front. You didn’t think you were aroused, too caught up with the fear you were feeling, but now that you took a moment to actually think about it you felt the heat simmering low in your stomach.

A rush of fear and shame rushed through you at the realization but that didn’t quell the arousal, in fact you felt a small rush of slick soaking your panties even further. You whined in embarrassment, face immediately flushing at the sound you made. You looked away from Blackbeard in an effort to keep your rapidly disintegrating composure, being worn down from guilt and anxiety.

Nothing happened for a moment, but the instant your body dared to relax, Blackbeard hooked his meaty fingers into the sides of your panties and ripped them apart like the rest of your clothes, causing you to gasp and jerk your head back towards him in surprise.

You were beginning to fear that you wouldn’t be wearing clothes while you were trapped on his ship. Your lower stomach twisted in knots, but you didn’t have too much time to ruminate as Blackbeard stuck two big fingers into your cunt unceremoniously.

You yelped in shock, eyes wide and body arching against your bonds at the sudden stretch and discomfort. You were, unwillingly, wet yes but his hands were much larger than yours and so the stretch burned.

“Wait!” You fought against the hands holding you down for a second, pleading for a moment of respite before he had even done much of anything, but Blackbeard paid you no heed.

Almost as quickly as he had inserted his fingers into you they were pulled out. You winced at the sudden movements as Blackbeard grinned toothily down at you and you could feel his excitement twitching against your thigh, pre cum beginning to seep through the fabric of his trousers.

“I knew you always wanted me deep down. Look how excited you are for me,” Blackbeard smirked, “Here, have a taste.” Blackbeard shoved his fingers into your mouth roughly, scraping against your teeth and making you gag from the force. You choked around his fingers as he fucked his fingers into your mouth, drool spilling out around the intrusions.

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he wiped his spit-covered fingers in your hair, a shudder of revulsion rolling through you. That was gross, even if it was your own spit on his fingers. You wished you could wipe the rest of the drool off of your face but your wrists were still wrapped in shadows.

You used a brief moment of peace to catch your breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you heard the sounds of a belt unbuckling and fabric rustling. Your chest squeezed as you heard Blackbeard groan appreciatively and the sound of wet skin slapping against skin. The urge to vomit rose low in your throat, you had mostly known what you were getting yourself into when you offered yourself up in lieu of Ace but that didn’t prevent the fear and bile that threatened to spill out of your mouth at the thought of Blackbeard fucking you.

“Look at me.” Blackbeard demanded, as one of his hands wrapped around your hip, tight enough to bruise, while the other pawed greedily at your breasts. Your eyes snapped open at his words, pleasing him was your best bet here, you didn’t want to see if he would still honor your deal if you misbehaved.

Once Blackbeard was satisfied with your attention on him, he released your breast from his hand and guided the tip of his cock to your folds. The tip briefly pressed hot and heavy and hard against your hole, and you were struck with the realization that his cock was much bigger than anything you had ever taken before.

Your stomach clenched and your thighs tightened around Blackbeard, trying to close and shove him away from your twitching core. But you were unsuccessful, Blackbeard pushing your legs even farther apart and burying himself deep in your hole in one thrust.

It burned, your walls stretching around the thick intrusion as best as they could without foreplay or sufficient lubrication. Part of your brain panicked, worried about tearing as Blackbeard forced his way into you but there was nothing you could do about it so you just braced yourself as best as you could.

The first couple of thrusts were dry and painful as your body struggled to adjust under the pressure of Blackbeard's fast and intense pace, but much to your horror, slick began gushing out of your body, the slide of Blackbeard’s cock inside your body becoming smoother.

Tears prickled at the edge of your eyes as pleasure mounted in your lower stomach. Why did your body like this kind of rough treatment and why was this the time your body chose to tell you? You didn’t want this, only wanted to protect your commander, and yet your body was betraying you, arousal coiling tighter at each thrust.

Blackbeard’s groans and grunts of pleasure echoed around the room as he continued his brutal pace, each thrust rubbing up against the sensitive spots in your walls, even as you desperately tried to stave off the pleasure, nails digging into your palms in hopes that the pain would distract your body from your mounting arousal.

Small whimpers and whines of both pleasure and shame fell from your lips as your orgasm slowly approached, your clit aching with the need to be touched. But Blackbeard ignored you, closing his eyes and pounding into you like you were nothing but a sex toy for him, just a convenient wet warm hole for him to fuck into.

You tried to regulate your breathing, anything to prevent yourself from cumming on the traitors cock. But as the pleasure kept building, as Blackbeard’s cock rubbed insistently against your g-spot as he ground into your pussy, fat tears started to roll down your face. Even though your cunt had gotten used to his size, well as much as it could with barely any stretching prior, the stretch still ached in unfortunately pleasurable ways.

But just as you were about to tumble over the cliff of your orgasm, Blackbeard suddenly pulled out, jerking himself onto your stomach and leaving you completely empty . Your stomach clenched and shivered as fat ropes of cum decorated your torso, your orgasm now far out of reach, one small mercy in the situation.

Just as suddenly, the shadows wrapping around your wrists let go, freeing your hands but you didn’t think of shoving Blackbeard off of you or trying to cover yourself, what would be the point? Instead you just rubbed at your eyes, sniffling as you tried to stop the tears streaming down your face.

Even as you felt Blackbeard get up, walking away from the bed, you didn’t move. You didn’t think you could move, for one, as your hips and thighs ached in pain and you needed the respite after the intense pounding your body had just endured.

As you heard Blackbeard open the door, the sounds of chains rattling together and muffled cursing became apparent to you. You had nearly forgotten that one of the conditions Blackbeard had imposed on your deal was having Ace join you for the night, Blackbeard’s brutal fucking turning your brain into mush.

You struggled to sit up, the ache in your hips and thighs from already forming bruises making it hard to move even your arms in case you shifted wrong and put pressure against the sensitive skin, you needed to see Ace and make sure he was relatively okay.

But as soon as you sat up and made to turn towards the door, the conversation trailed off abruptly and the now familiar shadowy tendrils wrapped around your upper body and yanked you back into the bedding roughly, yet they somehow still cushioned your head from banging into the wooden backboard.

You wiggled around in your new bonds experimentally, but the tight wrap of the tendrils around your chest and arms remained firm but not overly constricting. You guessed Blackbeard really didn’t want you moving around or seeing much of what was going on with Ace if the now less muffled curses and threats coming from the other side of the room were any indication.

You licked your now dry lips nervously, unsure of what was in store for you and your commander and you blinked back tears, refusing to cry again, this time in front of Ace.

Now that you weren’t distracted by the embarrassing pleasure of Blackbeard fucking you, an empty feeling was snaking behind your ribs to settle into your chest. You felt like you had fucked up. What if Ace had had a plan and you fucked it up? Maybe you should have left the rescue up to someone more capable.

Your self-deprecating train of thought came to an abrupt close as the door swung shut and Blackbeard’s voice seemed to get louder in the small space, Ace’s voice cutting out to the sounds of grunts once again. More shadows sprouted from the ones holding you to the bed, wrapping around your thighs and spreading them, rest time was over now.

“Come on Commander, don’t be such a bore, we all know you’ve wanted a taste since you made her your second. Why not take this opportunity to get what you’ve always wanted?”

As Blackbeard spoke, you finally saw Ace for the first time since entering Blackbeard’s room, he was tied up with tendrils similar to the ones wrapping around you except his were shaped more like puppeteer’s strings, forcing him to move wherever Blackbeard pleased. His mouth was not gagged like it had been before, instead smaller shadows had wrenched his mouth open; one of the smaller tendrils was pressing down on his tongue, preventing him from talking.

Your commander looked furious, struggling against the shadows even as they jerked him onto the bed and between your spread thighs. Your chest heaved in sudden all encompassing anguish at the sight, you had long imagined Ace in this position but you didn’t want it like this.

But before you could find the courage to open your mouth, to apologize for getting the two of you into this situation, Blackbeard, still completely naked, stepped into your view at your side next to the bed.

“Oh, oops,” Blackbeard laughed, not actually apologetic in the slightest, “Our poor girl is all messy,” his voice turned cruel and mocking in an instant, “Better clean her up before she makes a mess of the sheets.”

With that, Blackbeard fisted his hand into Ace’s hair, shoving him into the mess of cum on your stomach. Your arousal, which had dampened after being brought to the edge, heated up between your legs at the feeling of Ace’s mouth against your stomach. You hated yourself for it.

The shadows controlling his mouth must have let go, as Ace attempted to raise his head from your skin, presumably to say another insult or threat towards Blackbeard, but he had barely even lifted his mouth before Blackbeard was pushing him back down, grinding his face into your stomach almost painfully.

“Go on, Commander. Clean up your mess. We’re only here because of you after all.” Blackbeard continued to mock Ace as you fought to keep tears from rolling down your face, staring up at the ceiling so you didn’t have to see the state that Ace was in or Blackbeard’s smug fucking face.

Slowly, Ace opened his mouth, tongue flicking out to lap gently at your skin, and Blackbeard’s cum covering it. You felt him shudder against you at the taste, but he didn’t stop, continuing to lick at your skin until he had lapped up all of the cum he could reach.

The soft tickle of Ace’s tongue against your stomach swept through your body until it found a home as heat in between your legs. You didn’t want to enjoy any of this, but Ace was good with his tongue and you couldn’t help the reactions your body was having to his ministrations.

So instead, you focused on breathing, on staring at the ceiling, and on not crying at the shame you felt as Ace was slowly maneuvered around your torso by Blackbeard’s hand in his hair, cleaning up all of the cum that Blackbeard had desecrated your body with.

You almost sobbed in relief when Ace was done and Blackbeard pulled his head off of your body, the arousal in your lower stomach becoming almost too much to bear. You didn’t have control over much at the moment, but you were going to stave off your orgasm as much as you could, not wanting to give Blackbeard the satisfaction.

“Well look at what we have here! You must have been really pent up Commander, to get so excited so soon.”

“Fuck off.” Ace spat at Blackbeard, head craned at an uncomfortable angle from the fist still gripping his hair. His face was red and he wasn’t denying Blackbeard’s words so you strained your neck to look down, swallowing heavily when you saw what they were talking about.

Ace was hard, cock bobbing against his stomach as pre dripped steadily out of the tip. It was smaller than Blackbeard’s, though you doubted many could measure up to his size, but it wasn’t small either.The heat between your legs became unbearable, you needed his cock in you. It was everything that you had imagined and more because it was real.

“This night is about enjoying yourself, so why don’t you go ahead?” Blackbeard let go of Ace’s head to stroke himself, his cock now hard again, letting his shadows weave more around Ace’s limbs.

“I-” Ace began to, presumably, protest, but before he could growl out another expletive, the shadow tendrils moved him forward, enveloping his cock in your heat, his voice dropping off into a groan of pleasure. You couldn’t help but whine with him, the tip of his cock nestling comfortably against your g-spot.

He fit nice and snug in your walls which were still sore from Blackbeard’s stretch before. Ace’s cock didn’t hurt, the slide was aided by the new slick your body was producing. ”S-stop,” Ace gasped out, anger stolen from his breath as the shadows began to move him back and forth, mimicking Blackbeard’s thrusts from earlier, “Shit.”

His head dropped, thunking against his chest as the shadows puppeteered his cock in and out of your body against his will. Your thighs clenched and squeezed around his hips as your body made an unconscious effort to get pressure against your clit.

If you closed your eyes and ignored the odd eerily cold sensation of the shadows wrapped around your upper body and thighs, you could almost pretend that Blackbeard wasn’t there, that you and Ace were simply having sex in his private room on the Moby Dick.

It was that fantasy, of being home and safe while your commander pressed into you, that coiled your arousal tighter between your legs, until you were nearly trembling off of the precipice into your orgasm without a single touch to your aching clit.

Faintly you could hear Blackbeard gloat above you, but the pleasure mounting within you and the sounds of Ace’s cock being pressed deeply into your wet hole drowned him out.

You felt Ace’s hips jerk unsteadily, bucking out of the fast consistent pace that the tendrils were controlling him to keep into something unique to him. If the louder groans and whimpers were of any indication he was probably close. And you were too, just needing a tiny nudge to finally fall into an orgasm.

The nudge came in the form of the tendrils burying Ace’s cock as deep as it could go, grinding his pelvis against yours as Ace came, loudly. His cock twitched inside of you as ropes of his cum painted your walls.

That twitch pushed you over the edge and your eyes snapped open only to roll back into your head as your mouth gaped in pleasure. The pleasure was so intense, rushing through your body in fast waves, your pussy clenching around and milking Ace’s cock as he continued to cum in you.

You shuddered through your orgasm as the shadows kept you in place, preventing both you and Ace from moving around too much. It drew your orgasm out until, when waves of pleasure finally stopped coursing through your body, you sunk even deeper into the bed, your energy completely drained from your orgasm.

“Had a fun time?” Blackbeard laughed harshly, staring at Ace like you weren’t even there. Ace mustered the energy to glare up at Blackbeard while he responded,

“You are a sick man.” He hissed, before getting cut off by Blackbeard interrupting him,

“You’re the one who came in your second-in-command, Commander. Even I wasn’t sick enough to do that. So what does that make you?” At his words, Ace finally looked at you, guilt shining in his eyes.

And you wanted to apologize, to tell him that this was your fault, that you should have never made the deal in the first place, to finally speak up against Blackbeard when you have been mostly pliant and docile at the same time. But you didn’t get the chance to before Blackbeard started talking again. It was like he adored the sound of his own voice.

“Now you’ve got me all excited again. But it’s not like we can share. I don’t want to break my new toy, you understand right?” Blackbeard prattled along to Ace, as the shadow tendrils once again wrapped around Ace’s mouth, muffling his sounds.

You felt Ace began to reharden inside of you, the shadows having not let him pull out before. They started to rock him back and forth in your sensitive cunt, the slick and cum lubricating his glide. You were grateful they were building up to their pace from before, you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anything more intense at the moment.

Blackbeard chuckled, patting his head condescendingly before turning back to you, one hand still wrapped around the base of his hard cock. Your mouth suddenly felt dry as the tip of his dick poked your cheek, smearing pre cum on your face.

“Open up.” Blackbeard demanded, tapping the tip on your lips until you opened your mouth enough to bury himself in your mouth in one fast and harsh thrust. You gagged around his cock, the tip bumping against the back of your throat as it struggled to convulse around it.

He didn’t stop though, pulling out a little to push it in faster on the next thrust, his hands gripping the back of your head so you couldn’t pull away. At that moment, the shadows choose to speed Ace’s thrusts up, now that he was once again fully hard within your cunt.

With each wet thrust into your mouth, you unconsciously struggled against your bonds, trying to get free to get a breath of air, no matter how tiny. But Blackbeard didn’t let up and neither did the shadows wrapped around you, caging your movements.

The lack of air began to constrict your chest, little black spots appearing in your vision as you choked and writhed in hopes for air. Blackbeard wasn’t a merciful captor however, and kept fucking your mouth until your eyes began to roll back into your head.

Right before you passed out, you felt Blackbeard pull out of your mouth, ropes of cum spurting across your face and hair. The feeling of cum landing hot on your skin and rapidly beginning to cool was the last sensation you felt before you succumbed to a brief unconsciousness.

The rest of the night passed in a haze, Blackbeard and Ace, as an unwilling participant, using your body until everything was sore and ached when you even so much as twitched.

***********

When you finally got to fall asleep, you fell asleep hard and fast. You were unsure of how much time you had spent asleep as when you woke up, you were encased in a dark void. Later you would find out that the space was a part of Blackbeard’s devil fruit, and where you were going to be put during the times he wasn’t calling on you to warm his bed.

By the time that you were pulled back out of the void space for Blackbeard’s pleasure, Ace was gone. Blackbeard had upheld his side of the deal, you could relax. Well as much as you could relax since offering yourself up as a 24/7 sex toy to the traitor from your crew.

At first, Blackbeard seemed to refuse to fuck your pussy, preferring to fill your mouth or ass with his cum. It was odd to you as he had been quite happy to stretch your cunt wide open with his cock on the night he had shared you with Ace.

But the reason for this abstinence became horrifyingly clear in the second or third month, time was difficult to track in the void space that you had spent on Blackbeard’s ship when your stomach began to swell even though they were barely feeding you.

You were pregnant. Most likely with Ace’s babies considering Blackbeard’s refusal to fuck you.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to throw up, and as your pregnancy progressed you did usually end up throwing up. The only thing that was keeping you sane throughout this mental and physical torture was the thought that at least Ace was safe.

Ace was safe and probably returning to the Moby right then. That was all you could cling on. Ace was going back to the crew and they were going to come save you from this hell.

And so even as your stomach grew and rounded out and Blackbeard continued to use you whenever the mood struck him, you stayed optimistic. Everything was going to work out.

The crumbling of your current reality began as most days did: in the void space. Blackbeard had been pulling you out less and less recently, something that you weren’t going to complain about as being around seven or eight months along certainly made it hard to please him. So you were using your void space time as a time to rest and recuperate for the inevitable next time that he called upon you.

Your hand rubbed at your swollen stomach, thinking about Pops and Ace and the rest of the crew coming to get you. They would, you were sure of it, Pops would never leave a family member behind. You just needed to wait.

Suddenly, the familiar sensation of Blackbeard pulling you back into reality wrapped around your body and you braced yourself to land in his bed like usual, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn’t vomit all over his room and get punished, again.

But instead of the eerie silence of Blackbeard’s Captain’s Quarters, there were the sounds of battle, of people in conflict. The ground beneath your bare feet wasn’t polished wood but gravel and hard stone.

Your eyes flew open and you took in what was unfolding in front of you, hands clenching at the sides of your nightgown that only barely covered your body and bump, feeling disoriented and confused.

The scene in front of you chilled you to the core. Ace was on an execution stand, Marines surrounding him and blocking him off from your crew, your family. The whole crew was there, clashing with Marines, trying to reach Ace.

But he was frozen on the stand, staring at you in shock and horror as you stared back, with a similar expression mirrored on your face.

Blackbeard had lied.

Your heart squeezed at the realization. He had broken his end of the deal. You doubted he ever considered actually following through, he had just lied and manipulated you into being his sex toy.

A sob tore through your chest as you stumbled forward towards Ace, before shadow tendrils yanking you back into Blackbeard’s chest. You screamed his name, voice carrying over the battlefield and you knew when your family recognized your voice as many of them froze, Pops himself turned to look at you.

Their faces mimicked Ace, shock at first which then melted into a horrified anger once they looked at your stomach. Sobs ripped from your chest as you began to cry, Blackbeard’s shadows being the only things keeping you upright.

You just wanted to go home. You were tired. It had been so long since you had seen your family, looked at the Moby in her glory. It was just all too much for you to handle.

As the shadows wrapped around your legs and started to drag you back into the void space, you watched a couple of your crew mates running toward you, Pops voice booming your name across the battlefield. For the first time in nearly seven months, you tried to fight off the shadows, twisting to get free and run.

Blackbeard:

You didn't know how you ended up in this messed up situation, everything that had happened was indirectly your own fault. You should never have joined his crew, but you couldn't just say no to a Yonko. Not if he threatens to eliminate your entire crew, well, not that he would have kept his promise anyways.

The loud, pain filled screams of your crew members rob your sleep, every time you close your (e/c) coloured eyes, you see them in front of you. Their faces are filled with fear and terror. The only thing that makes this even more barbarous is the Emperor's loud, evil laughter. His wide, sadistic grin never leaves his lips, his eyes, those damn hellish eyes signal to you that you are nothing more than a plaything to him. A beautiful souvenir at his side. And only his side.

You tried to escape him, you really tried. You couldn't bear to look at him, you despised him so much. Even a sharp blade was gentler than the pure hatred you felt for him. Whenever you were forced to look at him, you were overcome with disgust. Why you? What had you done wrong? You were just a simple pirate who wanted to explore the world and in an instant everything was taken away from you.

Your legs carried you as fast as they could, you had to escape from this godforsaken island where he imprisoned you. No matter the cost, you just had to run. Your (e/c) coloured eyes are fixed on a small boat, probably from one of the many pirates who came to this island to party. You shake the thought out of your head as you keep running. You had no other choice, you need to stay focus! You had no chance against him, let alone his entire crew. Still, you couldn't give up your last hope, you didn't want to be locked up like a dog in a cell again. Just for him to laugh and pity you.

A triumphant smile graces your lips, perhaps you were lucky after all. Your legs carefully step onto the boat, the fresh smell of the sea air triggers an unfamiliar, joyful feeling in you. You really had missed sailing on the sea. The wind blows gently through your (h/c) coloured hair, the sun's rays shine on the blue, almost unapproachable sea. The sight alone is enough to make you forget for a small moment of time what had happened to you.

A black, huge smoke forms under your feet, the wooden boat that was brown before, disappears. Everything around you darkens, your vision starts slowly to cloud, as an uneasy feeling rises in your chest. Suddenly you feel your whole (b/s) shaped body being pulled towards something - no, someone. You try your best to fight it with all your last strength, but it's no use. You now look more like a mouse that has been pushed into a corner. Any last hope you had before has been destroyed in a god damn second.

“Let me go!” You try to sound as strong as possible, but inside you, you know that you would prefer to sink into the ground and never show up again. You don't want to be in this cell anymore, you don't want to be with him, you just want your freedom back. You want your fucking life back. A strong grip on your body, the smell of alcohol and, above all, his laughter pull you out of your thoughts and bring you back to the cruel reality in which you find yourself.

"Zehahaha....Did you really think you could escape me (Y/N)? Do I have to remind you what happened the last time you disobeyed me? Maybe I should keep you on a leash, since you don't seem to understand who you belong to. You are my property, my treasure and no one else is allowed to even look at you. Do you understand (Y/N)?”

Van Augur:

You can't remember how long you've been stuck here. The chains wrapped around your trembling (b/s) shaped body were far too tight, darkness covers the lifeless room in which you are trapped. From time to time you could hear loud, noisy gunshot sounds, something that made your body even more frightened. The sniper was probably busy shooting some poor birds down, even if you felt sorry for the poor animals, who probably never done something to harm him, a small feeling of security comes over you. You were safe from him for a short moment, safe from his cold, yet sadistic stare.

You wish that you could go back to your beloved parents, that you could see them with your own eyes and hug them for the one last time. But the memory of the tragedy makes you even sadder. The smell of blood oozing from their heads, the red liquid dripping onto the floor and their dead, cold eyes looking at you, almost as would they stare in your poor soul. You should have done something, you should have helped them, somehow at least, but in the end you just stood there like a frightened cat. Help us. Their words are still ringing through your head, it was like an echo. An echo what never stopped to reverberate.

If only you had been stronger, you could have stopped him, you could have defeated him, you could have made him pay for that what he did. But instead you let him kidnap you, your feelings of guilt were too immense to fight against him any longer. Your will was broken, your hope shattered and all you had left was him. The man who had killed your parents just because he liked you in his own cruel way. Was that really the way pirates confess their love for someone? Inside, you doubt that this man was capable of love, as if a monster like him could ever love someone. He clearly didn't see you as anything more than a pet, a small cute pet to play with.

Nevertheless, you had to disappear from him, you couldn't spend another second with him in the room. You had developed a plan, maybe a stupid one but at least something. Even if it took a long, long time, which was bad enough for you, but you had no choice but to wait.

The sounds of gunfire disappeared, the footsteps slowly fading into the distance, he is probably being called to his Yonko. Luckily you he doesn't pay you a visit, usually Van Augur always comes to see you every day, but today he didn´t. Did the sniper suspect anything? No, this couldn´t be- you made sure that he couldn´t suspect anything, or at least you hoped.

Today is the day of days, your only chance to escape this nightmare. Somewhat helplessly you try to reach for a hair clip from your boots, it was harder than you had expected, but after a little while you manage to hold the clip in your hand. Fortunately, the lock was close to reach and so you could carefully and as calmly as possible try to open it.

After a little while, you hear the chains bounce too loudly for your liking as they fall roughly to the ground. With a small, relieved sigh, you rise slowly to your feet. It feels good to be able to stand properly again and not just sit on the floor or sit on his lap. Focused, you open the old, large door, which is strangely open. You shake your head again as the fresh wind blows in your face.

With a small smile you start to run, you don't know where to run to, but anything is better than this place. Just as you're about to disappear down in a dark alley, you hear an all-too-familiar loud noise. It all goes by so damn fast that you couldn't react or interact. A sharp pain spreads through your calf, as a warm liquid flows from your wound. You fall roughly to the dirty ground, a small, agonized scream bursts from your lips, as a tear runs down your cheek. N-no this couldn´t be! This is a nightmare! The gentle stamping of the tall, lanky man's feet echoes through the alley. A small sadistic smile forms his face, as his predatory eyes do not take their eyes off you.

"Too bad, I thought you would give me a better chase (Y/n). Did you really think I couldn´t see through your sweet little escape plan? You are mine, all mine. It´s fate that we have met and it´s fate that we belong to each other. But apparently I have to rip out your wings, so that you finally understandwho you belong to. Doesn´t it sound lovely (Y/n)?"

Laffitte:

Why? Why couldn't you defend yourself against Laffitte?! It was as if you had been hypnotized, it felt as if all your countless tormented thoughts were only about him. No matter how many times you tried to fight it, your body and your thoughts didn't obey you any longer. Even if you were supposed to hate him, more than any other person on this god damned planet, you just couldn't. You feel attracted to him in a very strange, almost loving way.

You knew it was wrong, wrong towards you and wrong towards your friends whose lives you had taken. Because of him you had lost your friends, he was the reason why you had murdered your fellow human beings without any questioning. His pale face looking up at you on that tragic day, almost like a teacher who was happy to see his student grow. His high-pitched voice telling you to kill them because you didn't need anyone else but him anyway. “(Y/n)…do me a favor and get rid of them, they're in our way.~”

God you hated yourself for it, the loud begging cries of your friends, who couldn´t believe what was happening, their tears that just won't stop to run down their cheeks and worst of all their blood, their fucking blood that's on your own hands. You are a murderer just like the horrible pirates on this island, but unlike them you are worse than that, someone who murders his own friends without any hesitation was nothing more but pure scum.

You knew you had to leave, you couldn't stand it any longer. The constant little piping voice in your head, that was telling you that you'd done everything right, that you only belonged to him, that you were his, made you slowly but surley lose your mind. It was a fucking circus show, a show you couldn't resist. This man was clearly having fun playing with your mind, probably a sadist. You needed to get away from here, as fast as possible.

On a sunny afternoon, seagulls circling around the sun and a gentle breeze blowing through the crowded alleyways, you decide to finally take action. Laffitte gave you enough space, he didn't see the need to lock you up, why would he? Your (b/s) shaped body belonged to him, your thoughts only revolved around him, his hypnosis was strong, all previous attempts to resist him never ended well for you, but you had finally found a way to free yourself from him. It wasn't a subtle way, but you didn't have the strength, let alone the power, to do more against him. You had to inflict pain on yourself to escape this nightmare, but anything was better than that. You would rather burn in hell than spend any longer with the demon.

The stinging pain of the cold blade slicing through your skin, the red liquid making its way out of your wound and dripping onto the ground, slowly you regain your wits. You tear off a piece of your (f/c) clothes as you wrap it around your wound. You had to hurry, you didn't have time to think about what you had done in the past.

You run off quickly, your eyes fixed on your goal, the goal to escape from the Demon. Escape, from this hellish nightmare you constantly put trough. Your legs carry you as fast as you can, a few drunken pirates bump into you, but you ignore them. Their raspy voices shouting at you, but you only shake your head, they probably wouldn't be alive much longer, poor souls. A small hope swells in you as you notice an empty house, even if it doesn't look very nice, the marble is worn down and the windows broken, it is a better retreat than the stuffy room you lived in.

Before you can step inside, you feel an almost gentle grip on your shoulder. A could, almost dangerous breath rushes against your neck as you feel goose bumps run down your (b/s) shaped body. You don't dare look behind you, you knew exactly who it was. How could he have found you so quickly? You wanted to say something, anything to explain the situation, but you couldn't. You are overcome with fear as your body starts to twitch.

“I really thought you were smarter than that (Y/n). After all you have done, you still want to run away from me?! Maybe I should remind you who you belong to, some small lessons will help you or do you prefer torture? It´s your choice (Y/n).”

Catarina:

It's a miracle that your head is still on your body and not hanging down from the ceiling as one of their many trophies she keeps. But maybe that would be a better fate for you than being a prisoner of the worst female pirate. The smell of expensive perfume and lilac is in the air, even if the woman would rarely admit it, she takes great care of her appearance. After all, you had to tell her every day that she was beautiful, more beautiful than any other woman could be, more beautiful than Boa Hancock.

You once made the simple mistake of telling her the truth, that she is not the most beautiful woman in the entire world, and she almost decapitated your head for it. Now you think that maybe it would have been better if it had come to that, the woman was fucking creepy, she treated you like a small, petite doll that she could dress up and do whatever she wanted. The clothes you wore were expensive, cute and full of frills. Something you would never have worn otherwise, but you knew what would happen if you even dared to tell her the truth again.

But sometimes you wonder what would happen if you managed to escape from her? You didn't know where to go, but it didn't matter anyways, any island away from the Hunter was better than this stuffy perfumed pink room. You're not a god damned toy she can toss around! You're an independent woman and yet you doubt that everyday more and more.

You remember how you once talked to a cute girl. She had two blonde braided pigtails, her navy blue dress was decorated with bows and small hearts and her nice smile made you melt in a second. She was the only one on this island who was nice and polite to you, who saw you as a woman and a person and not as an object of desire. You often went shopping and had dinner together, you two became good friends, but of course that didn't last too long. When Catarina found out about it, she gave you her head on a silver platter the next day. "Murunfuffuffu, I´ve got a little surprise for you (Y/n). Do you like it?"

From that day on, you decided to spend the time alone in this room. Even though your desire for freedom grew stronger day by day, you knew that it would be better if you just did what she told you to do. However, the feeling of escape tugged at you so much that you could no longer ignore it. What could possibly go wrong? Everything had already been taken from you, so it couldn't get any worse, or? At least you thought so.

On a clear starry night, the moonlight is the only thing shining down on the now quiet island, you finally decide to flee. You run along the dark streets, a few drunken men lying on the ground, snoring so loudly that you could hear it even from far away. You have trouble adjusting your (e/c) coloured eyes to the light, even though you do your best to recognize the paths, it is almost impossible to see everything.

Only now you notice a cute laugh that comes from a small alley. The laughter reminds you of a certain girl, a girl you used to have as a friend back then, but how could that be? Her soft footsteps slowly approaching you, her perfect blonde hair and sweet smile never leaving her lips. “What are you doing (y/n)? Catarina won't be happy that you're trying to run away. I thought you loved her.” Shocked at who you're looking at, you clench your hands into fists, this couldn't be true, this just couldn't be! “Wh-what are you doing here? Y-you should be dead.” you stutter as your heartbeat gets faster and faster every second. You try to take a few steps back, but you are stopped by a cold wall.

The girl comes closer and closer, as her smile becomes distorted, frightened you try to look for a way out, but before you can even watch around you are held by two strong feminine arms. The blonde girl gets closer and closer to you, as her face and entire body transforms back into the crescent moon hunter.

“Murunfuffuffu...Poor little thing, what am I going to do with you now? Maybe I should take both of your legs so you can't run away anymore? Maybe that will show you who you belong to. You are mine, my cute little doll and I won't let you run away from me.”

Kuzan:

You missed the old, beautiful days in the marine, the thought that you are now on this awful pirate island drives you almost crazy. You and your former colleagues often spent time joking around, having the best time of your lives, you were a great team that had each other's backs. Whether you were chasing pirates or carrying papers back and forth, you had a lot of fun with it. But now all those wonderful times were over, the only thing that remained was Kuzan, your former superior and now husband.

The room you were stuck was freezing cold, just as cold as he was. You couldn't even imagine why you had ended up here. Kuzan had always been your favorite admiral, unlike the others, he never took things too seriously, he was just the calm, chill man. You had looked up to him, he was like a damn hero to you, a hero who now became a villain. But if you thought about it more and more carefully, you could have pointed out the early signs of the former admiral. His eyes that were always on you, almost as if he was guarding a sheep, the factor that you were always saved by him, no matter how dicey the situation was, was just as strange. But in hindsight it all made sense now, he was obsessed with you, something you would never have guessed in your life.

Many would feel honored to have someone like Kuzan as husband, but if they only knew that he had simply taken you without your permission, torn you away from your friends and comrades just to have you by his side, they might think differently. You despise this place, this new life you've been forced into. These pirates disgusted you, they were all criminals who didn't deserve to walk free, they where a threat for the normal people and now you are a part of them.

The former admiral often spent time with you, but most of the time he slept, holding your (b/s) shaped body close to his cool skin. But you could never turn a blind eye, this situation you found yourself in was anything but chill. Why should you pretend that nothing had happened and just sleep peacefully by his side?! Your old life was taken away from you and now you should stay calm about it?! You will never get the chance to see your beloved friends again! Now you are on the side of the enemy and you had the feeling that this would not change.

You had no strength, let alone motivation, to put up with this bullshit any longer, even if you weren't anywhere near Kuzan's strenght level, you had your pride too. After all, there were enough reasons why you joined the marine, you wanted to help the world, you wanted to give people security and now you're doing the exact opposite. You are scaring and frightening innocent beings. Anger is slowly building up inside you, you had to leave! You had to go back to your friends and superiors to report everything you know!

On a quiet day you finally decide to put your plan into action, after all, you don't often get the chance to spend time alone in this boring room! You carefully make your way out of the door as you slowly look around. The place is bigger than you expected, diffrent colours jump into your (e/c) coloured eyes, the smell of food and alcohol flies through the streets and loud singing noises could be heard. The former admiral had forbidden you to roam through the island alone, as it was too dangerous for you. But that doesn't interest you any longer, you just want to get back to your comrades, besides, you're not that helpless like he always think you are, you had to go through tough marine training too, to be accepted there in the first place!

Your feet takes you to a huge alley with lots of diffrent stores and taverns. Many pirates have been partying all days and nights, alcohol is flowing in streams, the loud roaring of the singing mens drowns out the music in the back. Something inside you wants to get away from this crowded street as quickly as possible. You needed a boat, that's for sure, but where was the harbor? With a small sigh, you walk along various diffrent alleys, as you suddenly feel a strong grip on your arm. A visibly drunk man gives you a wide, smarmy grin, his eyes scanning your (b/s) shaped body as he begins to speak up. “What kind of cute thing got lost here-” but before the man can talk any further, he suddenly freezes into a lump of ice. A large shadow looms over him as your body start to shiver from the abrupt coldness.

Van Augur leaned against the mast, eyes half-closed, his rifle balanced like a cane. “Crude. You storm in. Smash, grab, roar. But she was already in your line of sight. My match was… not so linear.” His lips twitched, the closest thing he ever came to a smile. “Horizon to horizon. Every time she moved, I was already looking where she’d be. When she finally stumbled, I was there.” His voice dropped, almost reverent. “Perfect shot.”

“Creepy bastard,” Burgess muttered, but there was no heat to it.

A blade hissed as Shiryu ran a whetstone down its edge. He didn’t look up when he spoke. 

“All of you wasted effort. Panic does the work for you. Let ‘em run. Let ‘em cry. The moment they feel unseen, that’s when you stand in the dark waiting. She made it hard, I’ll admit, clever little bunny. Slipped me more than once. But prey can’t outrun a seasoned hunter forever.” His smirk gleamed sharper than the steel in his lap. “I took my time… then took what was mine.”

Laffitte tipped his hat, chuckling softly. “How droll of you all. I didn’t chase. I invited. Doors opened. Guards stepped aside. She danced straight into my arms, though she swore she’d never be led by anyone. And now? Every step is to my tune.” He traced a finger in the air like he was sketching out invisible bars of music. “Difficulty, my friends, is only the story you tell afterward.”

The deck shifted under Sanjuan Wolf’s weighty breath, though he stayed silent, eyes closed as though dreaming of some distant shoreline. It was Doc Q who croaked a laugh, his voice like gravel dragged through mud.

“Mine’s the hardest, still. Not because she runs. Because she won’t stop dying. Can’t catch someone proper if their soul keeps slipping toward the grave. But I reckon that’s what binds us. Every time death reaches, I pull her back. And she hates me for it.” He coughed, hacking up something dark, and took another swig of rum.

The laughter rang again, cruel and careless, before settling into expectant silence. All eyes slid to their captain.

Teach sat back, wide grin splitting his face, teeth flashing in the firelight. He hadn’t spoken once, only drank, only listened. At last, he leaned forward, elbows on knees, and the mood shifted as easily as the tide.

“You boys think catchin’ is the prize,” he rumbled, voice rolling like thunderclouds. “But that’s just the start. Any fool can run down a girl. Any fool can grab her when she stumbles.” He paused, grin tightening. “But keepin’ her? Holdin’ her when she knows who we are? That’s the true fight.”

A few chuckles followed, nervous, unsure.

Burgess finally asked, “And you, Captain? Where’s yours? You ain’t told us that story. Your girl hidden away safe?”

The fire popped. 

Teach’s grin widened, but his eyes darkened. “Haven’t caught her yet.”

The words landed heavier than cannon shot.

“She’s out there,” he continued, gaze fixed somewhere past the dark sea. “Laughs at me without knowin’. Makes the world feel like nothin’ but a stage for our meetin’. And when I find her, boys—” his laugh boomed, echoing off the sails, startling the gulls roosting on the rigging—“the sea itself’ll know it. The sky’ll split for it. My soulmate’ll be mine, and she’ll stay mine till the world burns.”

The crew whooped, but unease lingered beneath the roar. Because if Blackbeard was the only one who hadn’t caught his yet… the day he did would be a storm none of them were ready for.

The fire guttered low, shadows stretching thin across the deck. For a moment, the only sound was the sea lapping against the hull.

Burgess broke first, his grin faltering. “Captain… what d’you mean, you haven’t caught her yet? A man like you—”

Teach leaned forward, rum dripping off his beard, and the deck seemed to shrink beneath his presence. His voice dropped low, but the crew leaned in anyway, hooked like fish on a line.

“She’s the opposite of me,” he said. “That’s the curse. The joke the world played.”

They stared.

“A kind soul,” he went on, teeth flashing. “A little light in the dark. She saves the sick. Holds hands with the dying. Smiles softly, like she don’t even know devils like me exist.” His laugh boomed, loud enough to make the brazier sputter. “Bahaha! Imagine that! The Devil’s own soulmate, and she’s too busy patchin’ wounds to hear me callin’.”

Laffitte’s eyes glimmered. “How deliciously ironic.”

Doc Q wheezed with laughter until it turned into a rattle. “A woman who fears disease bound to the man who is a disease.”

Shiryu snorted, flicking his blade clean. “Sounds more like a punishment than a match.”

But Teach only grinned wider, gaze fixed on the horizon as though he could already see her shape in the dark. “That’s what makes her mine. She’ll hate me for it, fight me for it, but fate tied her straight to me. And when I put my hands on her, she’ll realize there ain’t no savin’ me… there’s only joinin’ me.”

The crew laughed, jeered, and muttered to one another, but beneath the noise lay unease. Because it wasn’t just that Teach’s soulmate was a hidden woman, or that she represented the exact innocence he’d long since carved out of himself.

It was that she hadn’t been caught yet.