#lucci x reader

Rob Lucci 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

He gave you a brow. Hands in his pocket, wearing a dark suit and watching you with darker eyes.

“Have you no dignity?” His voice is flat, cold but you don’t care.

You keep tiptoeing, lips still pouting and hands fisting his shirt. Pulling him. “Robbie… please, just one kiss.”

His brow line creases. Half-offended. “Don’t… call me that.”

You hum, going back to your feet. Pouting.

He’s not indulging you. Not moving one inch to kiss your lips.

Fine then.

It’s war.

You’ll nag him till he gives in.

“Luuuuci, pleaseee,” you whine out and he sighs through his nose as you keep tiptoeing up.

No answer. Just condescension seeping through his gaze.

You keep tugging, whining and only when you hear Kaku’s voice calling you both from a distance do you stop. Glancing to the source of his echo. And when you let go of Rob’s collar, eyes drifting away to the distance and heels padded fully on the floor—does he place a hand on your jaw, sliding your face to meet his gaze.

And you blink.

long, dark hair trail down your face. Tickling your shoulders, as one smooth motion of his hand slide down your hips to the small of your back, bringing you up to meet his lips.

Rob’s calloused fingers digs into your flesh, forcing a whine to leave your mouth, which he seals with a kiss. muffling you.

And the kiss is not soft but raw—pushing, claiming, forcing you to lean back so to retain footing but his hand on your jaw has made its way to the back of your hair. Forcing you deeper into his kiss.

And when Kaku’s footsteps trudge closer, only then does Rob part from you—lips clicking, strings of saliva between your tongue as he straightens himself, and your cheeks burn at the sight of his face.

Smug, cocky and entirely pleased with himself.

Jerk.

Sir Crocodile 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Sir Crocodile was giving you a look… quite similar from what he gives that tardy clown except there is a hint of amusement in it. But only a hint.

You were pulling on his vest, frowning.

It’s been ten whole minutes and he’s not budging.

Meanie.

“Sir… please.”

He gives you a brow, a corner of his grin going up.

“Please, what?”

Your cheeks burn flushed. “You know what.”

He tilts his head to the side, ash falling off his cigar. “No, I don’t. Indulge me.”

Your knuckles clenches, tugging at the fabric of his shirt.

He’s taunting you! What a rude little….

“You look like you’re about to explode, need a hand with anything?”

“You—…” You bite your tongue, trying to tiptoe even higher, pull his shirt even harder.

You start growing frustrated and embarrassed, but he’s been so handsome the whole day, you can’t imagine yourself leaving without kissing him—but it’s been a whole ten minutes, and still! He’s not budging.

The frustration starts to make you teary, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt so hard you feel like you’re going to tear it off of him and only then—when your eyes start glaze with tears, and your breathing starts growing hot with fury, does he lean in.

Arms unfolding. One last smoke taken before the cigar is dropped to the ground. Hook landing around your waist, tugging you closer as he grabs your ass, ringed fingers digging into the soft of your flesh as he lifts you up by the back.

Meeting his lips.

The kiss is soft, faint—until you press deeper, further, growing desperate enough that his tongue skims over your lips. Your heart starts beating out of your chest, hard and erratic as the kiss grows hotter, heavier, wet sounds escaping you both.

And when he parts? Setting you down by the ground?

It’s all smugness and adoration.

His larger hand making it to the side of your face.

“Be a good girl and fetch a new cigar in my jacket for me.” his voice rasps, thumb rubbing your lower lip.

And that’s all he has to offer for you to pad across the room. Face completely burnt.

Trafalgar D. Water Law 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

“What are you doing.”

“What does it look like, Law!?” You huff out, toes starting to ache as you try and tiptoe further up. And Law looks at you like he should take pity on you or mock you completely.

“Law, please, just—”

“Just what?” He muses, smirk coming into place and your cheeks burn.

“Please. Just, one kiss,” your voice comes out soft, too soft and it makes him want to tease you harder.

“Why should I? Last time I checked, you called me a jerk.”

“That was two days ago!”

“And still no apology.”

You clutch onto his collar with both of your hands, trying to tug him down but he’s not budging, and the smug grin of his isn’t either.

“please Law…”

“go on, please what?”

Your brows pull, face turning into fire, “Please, I'm sorry… Can you kiss me?”

Law tilts his head, the expression he wears on his face is untelling—the grin hasn’t dropped, the cockiness as prevalent as ever and your heart beats into a storm at the sight of it. Knuckles clenching, cheeks sizzling and brows pulled hard enough to form a vein. And just when you think he’ll mock you once more, do you feel his hands land on your shoulders, sliding down your ribs, slow and streaming—landing under your butt, lifting you off your feet.

the gap closes and the friction of clothes grinding between one another makes you arch, as he lands his mouth on yours.

Pushing, claiming, and you feel his tongue skimming over yours—and on instinct—you suck.

The kiss grows hot, wet; saliva and groans exchanging between you two, parting only to breathe.

For a moment, Law only looks at you.

Taking in your features.

Breath hot on your face, and something soft settles in his gaze.

His voice low, almost a mumble under his breath and you barely catch it.

“Pretty.”

You blink. “What—?”

He kisses you again. Pushing your ass even further up, and you whine into it.

Yeah.

You two are going to be kissing for a good while.

Donquixote Doflamingo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

He was being a mean, rude, cocky, snobby and a barbarous little shitbird about your situation.

And it makes you seethe, hands tugging onto the pink feather of his coat.

Pulling, yanking, face fuming with frustration as you stare up his stupid handsome face.

“Doffy… please, just lean down.”

He has the audacity to snort out loud and you scoff, offended.

Your cheeks burn into fire, swallowing your pride—you’re not giving up, not yet.

“You’re mean.” You huff and he takes a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it.

“Yeah? If I’m so mean, the why are you beggin’ for a kiss, hmm?”

You pull out the trump card. “Because I love you.”

And he freezes.

You decide to go in for the kill — you give him that doe eyed look, the coquettish, begging one. “Please Doffy.” Your voice is soft, pleading, “Just one, it’s all I want.”

Doflamingo flicks your hair from his fingers, hand grabbing your jaw, as he leans down—slamming his mouth into yours.

And the taste of wine, cocktails, pineapple juice and corruption seeps all into you; his tongue sloshes over yours. Wet, hot and messy as he forces you deeper into it, possessive hands travelling down your waist and latching onto your hips. Hoisting you up.

The kiss starts growing sloppy; clicking sounds and moans slipping every time you tilt into a new angle.

And when you part, its only to breathe, huff and ground yourself. Head dizzy. Doflamingo’s forehead nudging yours.

“You love me, huh? Then you have no one to blame but yourself.” He grins, and it’s not sweet or adoring, no—it’s got wickedness written all over it; but you know what’s worse?

He is right. This is no one’s fault, but your own.

Roronoa Zoro 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

You were practically doing mini jumps to get to this man.

Tiptoeing. Neck arching. Hands tugging his collar as he gives you a long, long stare.

Arms crossed.

“Zoro.”

“No.”

You tug his shirt. “Zoro!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“Still; no.”

This is how it has been between you two for ten minutes.

You’ve been trying to steal a kiss, he’s been watching your failed attempts with the most aloof, most unbothered, most ‘this-gotta-be-a-joke-but-I-also-dont-want-it-to-end-just-yet’ face ever.

You were leaning forward, he was leaning back.

“You’re not giving me a chance!”

“So?” He gives you a brow and your face pulls into a frown. Cheeks starting to burn.

“Lean down. Please.”

Zoro blinks, slowly, before eventually tilting his head to the side, a cocky smirk coming into place.

“Sure.”

You regain some hope, tiptoeing further up, straining yourself even.

“Really!?”

“Yeah. if you beg.”

At that, your face sullen once more.

“I’ve been begging.”

“Yeah? Well, I guess you don’t want to kiss me that badly then—” He unfolds his arms, moving away and you panic. Latching harder onto him.

“Please!” You tug him towards you, ignoring the widening grin on his face.

“Please, please kiss me, please it’s all I want. Just one.”

“You want it that bad huh?”

You swallow your pride, and nod.

And at that, he scoffs. Hands going to your ass, groping, squeezing as he lifts you off the ground, his crotch grind against yours, fabric causing friction between one another as he hoists you further up—meeting his lips.

Soft. Sweet.

Lips clicking when he parts.

And he gives you a smaller smile, “Happy?”

“As if.” You lock your arms over his shoulders, bringing you two into a kiss once more.

And this time, it’s deeper, longer and messier. you have decided to reap your reward to the fullest.

Mihawk

He does what he wants, when he wants. Period. If he wants you when you’re in a pub, you’re not getting away until he gets what he wants. Sitting in the booth across from him, he’s been known to put his boot between your legs on the bench, making you rut against him and rubbing it against you until you cum, quietly talking you through it in his sternest voice. Other times he’ll take out his dagger, holding it to your throat or sensitive places as you fuck. He’ll draw thin lines, not breaking the skin, but testing your trust as he makes you be still for him. Once, after a particularly aggravating meeting, he made you sit on the floor at his feet. While he cleaned Yoru, he demanded that you grind on his boot and get yourself off. But no matter what he asks of you, he always rewards you for obedience.

Sir Crocodile

For being such a twisted person, he’s not as kinky in bed as you’d expected. Sure he loves marking you up, pushing your limits, demanding submission and obedience, but there’s half a romantic in him (though only with you.) Even so, sex is rarely easy with him. And usually, the hook stays on. So of course he’ll use it just as he would use his hand otherwise. He’ll rub the cool metal against your skin until it warms, until it’s slick from your mouth - or elsewhere. He’ll tease you with the tip, making you be still so it doesn’t pierce you, playing a dangerous game of stimulation with the sharp tip around your nipples. He loves making you cum with it, sometimes denying you touch from his hand until you do. After making you lick it clean - or making a show of licking it himself - he’ll take you until you’re begging for mercy, as always.

Buggy

You already know what this man is up to. Every part of him is detachable. He can send you off to have your day with his left hand in your clothes, using your chest and ass as a stress ball. He’ll finger you over and over, holding your soft bits for comfort - definitely not your comfort, but he doesn’t give a shit. Good luck to both of you getting a damn thing done on those days. He loves leaving you with his cock buried inside you like a toy, getting hard inside you over and over and over throughout the day, his cum plugged up and acting as lube. When you finally return? He drags you off and reassembles himself, fucking you senseless - properly. Has he sent you with his nose in your underwear before? Do you want to have this conversation?

Katakuri

He is deeply repressed, your husband, in just about every way. But sexually? He has a lifetime of horny to make up for, and he’s terrified to hurt you or wear you out with his enthusiasm. First of all, you’re just so small. (Even in a world where he’s not actually giant sized, everything about him is so much bigger than you.) And he loves it. Too much. It’s far too arousing to watch you struggle to take him, to fondle and pleasure your body in his lap with his big hands. And sure, you may not be afraid of him, but he’s still worried about frightening you with his sounds and expressions as you take his cock inside your crushing tightness. But if you tell him you’re into it? If you begged him to use you? He’d fold instantly despite his reservations, but he’d use his observation haki - like he secretly always does - to ensure it’s never too much. The problem with using it? The risk of coming too soon when he watches you come undone.

King

He’s still annoyed with himself for falling in love with you. And sometimes he likes bringing that into bed. You’re so small, his little human lover. It takes a hell of a lot for you to be able to take him as it is, and he’s not about to waste all that effort with just one round. Once you’re exhausted enough to not be able to resist anymore, he’ll pick you up in his hands and plunge you down on his cock like a fuck doll. You’re just so little, it’s a wonder you can take him at all, and it gives him endless satisfaction watching the bulge in your belly as he sinks down to the hilt inside you. He loves your begging and tears, his body a weapon against you that you laughably don’t want to escape. Although he doesn’t know which is more pathetic - you, or his love of manhandling your small body to pleasure himself.

Eustass Kid

Your captain is never one to pull punches, in bed or otherwise. He has the conqueror’s spirit and damn if he doesn’t love using it in the bedroom. He loves pushing you to your limit, pounding you ruthlessly with an arm on your throat and a hand flicking your nipples until they tingle. So of course he thinks to use his magnetism on you. He makes rough and ready cuffs the day he decides to try it with you, holding you suspended and pinned every which way as he stuffs you fulll over and over. He makes you a collar studded with metal to pulll on, he makes underwear with foil strands running through the fabric so he can watch your face as he gropes you at the absolutely wrong times. If you let him, he’ll give you sex piercings that will really drive you crazy. Any insane thing you can think of, he’ll be thrilled to try it.

Killer

Your blond lover is a man of contradictions - a conqueror with a gentle streak, a ruthless massacring butcher with painted nails and lips, a metal head who loves cooking. He is strength and intelligence, loyal to a fault - both to his firebrand captain and to you. For all his posturing and shows of force, his love for you is shockingly sugar sweet. He’s always gentle and protective, making sure you eat, painting your nails and braiding your hair before bed. Sometimes you have to ask him to, you know, let you see his rough and intimidating side that you find so hot. He doesn’t treat you like glass (as evidenced by all the mornings you can’t walk), but you can take more, you assure him. And one of the things that arouses you about him? His punisher blades. So he wears one, holding it to your throat as he fucks you, giving you a taste of his fucked up side. You’ll be seeing more of that from now on. Hope you’re prepared.

Rob Lucci

Even in his human form, he’s ruthless and leaves you unable to walk the next day. But when he wants to use his Zoan form? The first time he was too rough, having to patch up your bite marks and… other injuries. So he reluctantly altered his approach. He is still ruthless, even as he preps you to take his oversized Zoan cock. He pins you roughly, kissing you fiercely. Often he’ll start in his human form to stretch you, then shift while inside you. He ruts into you like the wild animal he is, knotting and mounting you again and again, manhandling you into whatever positions he wants. He is always glad to have chosen this place to call home, a former warehouse with soundproof walls - so he can make you scream and wail with no consequence except needing to leave out the ingredients for honey lemon tea in the morning for your raw throat.

Basil Hawkins

In many ways, Hawkins is a simple man. Sure he has a strange and arcane devil fruit, and his obsession with tarot predictions could be called odd, but his ambitions for power and money are nothing so unique. And for all that loving a pirate and accompanying him is full of adventure, your life and love is fairly simple in the quiet hours. So much so, that he begins to worry that he’s boring you. So he approaches you about trying something - letting the cards decide what happens in the bedroom every once in a while. Using the themes and associated elements and numbers dictate the positions, the intensity, the duration. Does it work to inspire? Or is it just an awkward attempt by your lover to please you and show his love… that will never be spoken of again? (If you know what’s good for you~)

Doflamingo

Your lover is no stranger to kinks and play that would make others run for the hills. He likes it rough, he likes you helpless, he likes it wrong. And what easier way to accomplish that than by tying you up, shibari style, and leaving you dangling for him to play with? Sometimes he starts slow, taking his time, tormenting you as he binds you. Other times, you’re suspended before you can process it, your clothes torn off with a sadistic snicker and a promise to buy you something new. He’s a bully, mean and selfish when he takes you, making you take more than you can handle over and over. More than once when he’s been busy and you’ve bothered him for company, he’s strung you up and had his clone fuck you senseless. He lays out a sleeveless shirt the next day to show off the red marks from his strings.

Bartolomeo

You picked him. This insane wildcard. And he’s obsessed with you, of course he’ll try literally ANY kink you suggest. And this one you mentioned? He won’t shut up the entire trip to the nearest bed in excitement to try it. He strips you quickly, chaotically, your clothes and his landing across the room. Biting his lip so hard he makes it bleed, he concentrates and crosses his fingers. He creates a small barrier that wraps around your wrist, then your other and your ankles. He uses them to carry you to bed and hold you down. When he’s assured they’re not hurting you, he smirks and pushes his crossed fingers inside you. He rubs his face in your chest, rambling about how perfect you are, how tight and wet and sexy you are, how hot you look pinned and helpless like this. Let’s hope you really are prepared for such a long night.

Kalifa (CP9)

She is a woman of order, and that extends to every aspect of her life. She likes things clean and neat. And while she’ll reluctantly accept the consequences of the mess of lovemaking, she prefers whenever possible to do it in the bath. It is her domain, after all, and she likes the control. At times she’ll hurry things along, making you cum fast and then finishing bathing quickly. She leaves you in the water as she gets out to work, teasing you with her slick naked body as she leaves you. But she loves the indulgence of long baths, and occasionally uses her power on you when she is particularly eager for absolute control over your body and pleasure. She’s a tease, after all, and doesn’t mind using you like a doll while she gets off.

Daz Bones

Your reticent and stoic lover, for all his intelligence, admittedly still finds it difficult to believe that you would choose him. That you feel someone so drenched in blood and sin could be worthy of you - though he’d never voice it aloud. Instead he shows it through his actions, becoming the perfect lover - anticipating your every need and want before you know it yourself. And as he studies you, he notices your hesitations, your blushing, your squirming at certain… ideas. And so he carefully brings up the idea in the bedroom. If you want more thrill, if you really do trust him, he could tease you with his blades. And if you accept? Your heart will be racing as hard as you’ll cum. He is confidence personified when he acts, no more evident than in bed with you. He’d never hurt you more than you wanted, but his dark side is thrilled that you would enjoy something so fucked up.

Caesar

Of course chemicals will make their way into the bedroom with your mad scientist of a lover. The vast majority of his successful experiments over time have been aphrodisiacs. (Not that he could brag to the scientific community about that.) But you? You get to try them all. Sex pollens, sense inhibitors and enhancers, mind control experiments, animal heat mimicry. Usually he uses them on you, liking being in control during those experiments, but he can’t deny that he likes when you’re in charge. He’ll curse you if you give him one of his own drugs, but after a few orgasms, his cock weeping all over, he’ll silently and begrudgingly forgive you. He’s devious with them, more than once slipping you one at inopportune times (usually when he doesn’t want you to leave because he’d miss you.)

Kuro of the Black Cat Pirates

He is the captain of a thousand plans. Of course he’s come up with endless scenarios to try with you when it comes to intimacy. Ways to seduce you, positions to try, preparing meals that are said to serve as aphrodesiacs, buying you classy yet alluring clothes for him to take off of you later. Or order you to take off. But he’s also impatient and tired of pretending. So a great many of his ideas revolve around punishment. He’ll make you strip and rut against the corner of the table, he’ll use a paddle on you, making you count the strikes and mocking you for getting wet, he’ll tie you in a dozen different shibari positions to have his way with you where you cannot resist. You present him with just the challenges he prefers in these days of seeking peace. And planning how to get inside you each night is his guilty pleasure.

Enel God of Lightning

Your god is demanding, often bored, and loves wielding his power over you. Testing his favourite worshipper, to see if you’ll break before finishing. One of the most common tests is using his lightning against you. Little shocks to your lips, your nipples, between your legs. Occasionally he’ll shock you a little harder when you start to cum, loving how your body writhes more as the sheer sensation lances through you. It would be bothersome to find a new devotee, so he’s careful to not hurt you. And if ever he pushes you too hard, and your pleas for mercy are earnest, he’ll feel something almost akin to human emotion as he helps you down from the high and cleans you up. You’ve proven your devotion thoroughly, after all. But he’s glad when you let him test you again. He needs to know you still don’t regret being chosen by him.

Sakazuki Akainu

As the one person he cares for enough to love, trust is essential between you both. And he is prone to testing that in bed. He is intense, demanding, unyielding. Sure he’ll let you have a safe word, but he expects you to accept the full force of his love more often than not. He’s rough, holding and pinning you tightly, making you repeat refrains of ownership and love to him as he wrecks you. And sometimes, he’ll tease you with his devil fruit. Seeing if you’ll flinch as the sweltering heat makes your skin wet with sweat. Seeing how you arch your chest or hips away from the intense heat, but drip arousal for him anyway. The only time he ever softens up is afterwards, praising you for your absolute confidence in him, for giving yourself to him in every way.

Kizaru Borsalino

ZORO

You’re in the kitchen with Nami. Soft conversation. Warm lighting. Laughing a little over booze.

“I mean, I don’t think he even realizes how much I watch him,” you say, smiling. “He’s always so focused. So serious.”

Nami raises a brow. “Wow, you’ve got it bad.”

You nod. “I know.” Then softer—like it slipped out: “I love him.”

Around the corner—Zoro stops walking.

Completely.

Stares ahead like someone just threw a sword through his chest.

He backs up. Quiet. Leans against the wall.

Breathes. Once. Twice.

“…Shit.”

When you leave the kitchen later, he’s waiting outside. Doesn’t say anything. Just pulls you to him, forehead resting on yours.

“Say it again,” he whispers. You blink. “What?”

“I need to hear it. Straight from you.”

You soften into a smile. “I love you.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds like finally— then kisses you like he plans to hear it every day for the rest of his goddamn life.

SANJI

You’re helping Robin prep some herbs for dinner. Quiet. Peaceful.

“He’s such a flirt,” you say. “But he doesn’t realize how sincere he really is. He’s gentle. He listens. He remembers.”

Robin hums knowingly. “Sounds like you’re awfully smitten.”

You laugh, bashful. Then: “I love him, Robin.”

Outside, just beyond the doorway—Sanji nearly drops the wine bottle he was carrying.

His heart is pounding like cannon fire.

He peeks in. Sees you smiling. Glowing. Talking about him.

He exhales slowly. Hand on his chest.

“Mon dieu…”

Later that night, when everyone’s winding down, he pulls you aside. Hands shaking just a little.

“Did you mean it?” he asks. “What you said... to Robin.”

You blink, cheeks already flushing. “Y-You heard that?”

He grabs your hand. Brings it to his lips.

“I felt it,” he murmurs. “And I’ve never wanted to hear something so badly in my life.”

When you say it again, against his lips, he doesn’t kiss you. He hugs you first. So tightly you start squirming. Then kisses you like you’re an oath he’s taken for life.

SMOKER

You’re talking to Tashigi. Voice soft. Steady.

“He’s not easy to be around,” you admit, a little smile on your lips. “But I’ve never felt safer. Or more seen. I don’t think he realizes how much that means to me.”

She smiles behind her glasses. “You care for him very deeply.”

You nod. “I do. I love him.”

Out in the hall, Smoker freezes.

He’d been walking past—cigars in mouth, usual scowl in place— But now?

Everything stops.

He leans against the wall. Quiet. Processing.

You love him.

Him.

The man made of smoke and walls and muttered complaints.

Later, he walks into your room without knocking.

You look up, startled. “Smoker?”

He walks over. Pulls you into his chest. Doesn’t let go.

“Just… say it to my face next time, would you?”

You blink. “What?”

He exhales. “The thing. That you told Tashigi earlier.”

You freeze. Then soften into a smile. “What? That I love you?”

He groans softly—like it hurts. Then leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “That.”

A few silent moments settle around you both. You smile as his thumb traces your cheek, his eyes locked on your lips.

“You mean it?” he mutters.

You smile, rising on your tiptoes as you press your lips to his. “You know I do.”

KUZAN

You’re sitting beside Borsalino. Talking quietly.

“He’s so complicated,” you say, swirling tea in your cup. “Acts so nonchalant, but he’s kind in ways no one sees. Soft when he doesn’t mean to be. And I love him for all of it.”

Kizaru just hums with a quiet smile, nodding like he already knew.

Around the corner—Kuzan stops breathing.

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Just… caught the tail end.

But that line. That line.

It lands like a knife made of flames right in his cold chest.

He backs away slowly. Hands in his pockets. Trying to play it cool.

Fails completely.

That night, he knocks softly on your door.

You open it, surprised. “Hey.”

He stands there, quiet. Watching you. Like he’s trying to memorize you again.

Then—softly: “You love me?”

You blink, startled. A bit scared. “...Y-You heard that?”

“Didn’t mean to.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Just… couldn’t pretend I didn’t.”

You look down. Step closer. “Yeah. I do.”

He exhales. Deep. Shaky. Then pulls you in, arms wrapping around you like you’re the only safe place left on earth.

“…Good,” he says against your hair. “Makes us both idiots.”

KIDD

You’re sitting at the workbench with Killer. Talking low.

“He’s such an ass sometimes,” you mutter. “But he remembers the smallest things. He fixes stuff without asking. And when he’s soft—god he’s so stupidly soft.”

Killer doesn’t say a word, but he ruffles your hair.

You laugh. A little embarrassed. Then—quiet. Almost shy: “Killer, I love that idiot.”

Outside, around the corner, Kidd has completely stopped functioning.

He was mid-lecture at Heat—paused. Mid-word. Mid-rage.

“…Did you hear that?” he says, like someone just punched him in the chest.

Heat opens his mouth. Closes it. Quietly walks away.

Kidd leans against the wall. Breathes like he’s holding back an explosion.

Later, he finds you. Doesn’t say much. Just steps in close.

“You told Killer something earlier.”

You freeze. Flush. “D-Did I?! Haha, I don't remem—”

“—Don’t even try.”

He stands in your way. Eyes narrowed. Voice low.

“Instead, why don’t you say it to me this time.”

You fold under his intense glare. “I... I love you, okay?”

He grabs your face. Pulls you in.

“You better.”

And then kisses the lights out of you.

BECKMAN

You’re with Yasopp and Lucky Roo. Laughing over drinks.

“He’s so calm, it makes you forget how dangerous he is,” you say. “But that’s what I love about him. I feel safe. Like I can breathe around him.”

They raise their eyebrows. Yasopp pulls a teasing smile.

“Ohooo, that’s a big word. We hear that right?”

You nod. “Yeah. I love him, you guys.”

Down the hall—Beckman stops.

He was walking in. Coffee in hand. Chill as ever. Now? His fingers curl around the mug.

You love him.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t walk in. Just stands there for a minute. Soaking it in. Processing.

Then walks away. And comes back later—heart pounding.

Finds you alone.

“Hey,” he says casually. “Got a second?”

You nod. He steps close. Not too close.

“You said something earlier. To the guys.”

You blink. “Oh. You heard that?”

He nods. “Do me a big favor and say it again. Right now.”

You smile. “...I love you, Beck.”

He exhales. Soft. Grabs the back of your neck and kisses your forehead like it’s sacred.

“…Then I think it’s about time I start acting like I’m worthy of that.”

DOFLAMINGO

You’re sitting on a couch, talking quietly to Vergo. Voice low.

“He’s... lost in his own world sometimes,” you say with a fond smile. “But I think I see more than he wants people to. There’s softness under the madness. And I love him for both parts.”

Vergo smiles. Like he sees it too. “You told him yet?”

You shake your head. “He’d laugh. Or twist it into a cruel joke.” Then softer— “But I do. I love him. Both parts.”

“Heaven and demon.”

Around the corner, Doflamingo has gone absolutely still.

He was headed in to gloat about something stupid. Now? He’s frozen. Stuck in place.

You love him, huh? Both parts?

Not just the mask, not just the monster. Him, the two parts that make up the whole.

Later, he walks in casually. Like nothing happened.

But his glasses are off.

“You love me, sweetheart?” he says flatly. Like he's trying to push something down, while opening it apart at the seams.

You nearly drop the glass in your hand. “Wait—what—”

He’s in front of you in two strides. Looks right through you.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it when you know I’m listening.”

You stare back, defiant. “I love you, Doffy.”

He exhales. Shaky. Covers his eyes. Like he hates what it does to him.

What you do to him.

“Stupider than I pegged you for...” he mutters.

Then lowers his hand. Grabs his glasses. Grins.

Small. Real. A little shaky.

“…Fine. I’m yours, then. You better be ready for that.”

LUCCI

You’re in the corner of a quiet hallway, talking to Kaku.

“I don’t think he even knows how much I care,” you whisper. “He’s so guarded. But I see it—the little things. The way he notices. The way he protects without ever admitting it.”

Kaku nods. “You sound in deep.”

You smile. “I am. I love him.”

Down the hall, Lucci stops moving.

Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just… listens.

You love him.

And you said it like it wasn’t terrifying. Like it wasn’t impossible.

Like it was true, of all things.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t confront you. Just turns. Walks away. Quiet.

Later, he shows up at your door. Doesn’t knock. Just opens it.

You blink. “Lucci?”

He walks over. Stares down at you.

“You were speaking with Kaku earlier.”

You hesitate. “…I was.”

He nods. Slow. Serious.

“You said you love me.”

You pause. Then nod. “I meant it.”

He touches your face. Lightly. Almost unsure.

Then pulls you in. Forehead to forehead.

“Don’t love me,” he mutters.

“Then don’t touch me,” you counter.

Yet his hands don’t leave yours.

“You make a really convincing teacher,” Lucci nearly purrs as he takes a look at your suit skirt and white shirt. On his right shoulder, Hattori coo, in approval. You look like an innocent couple walking their pet as you reach the doorstep of your house, Lucci’s hand resting at the small of your back. “I know it’s just for the mission, but those kids are adorable.” 

Lucci’s eyes darken at your words as he unlocks the door. “Don’t get too attached. Those kids are just tools,” He reminds you, holding the door open for you. As you step inside, he follows, closing the door behind you and locking it. The house is quiet and dimly lit, giving an illusion of normalcy contrasting with your true identities. 

You make such a powerful couple. In private life… and as dangerous spies and assassins dedicated to the CP0. “I know Lucci, I know. I gathered information about our targets. But still they are innocent kids.” You answer softly. Hattori coos again, flapping his wings, swirling in the air, aiming for his bird feeder. This house is so lovely, so comfortable, way too normal. For the neighbors, you’re a quiet, polite couple with an adorable little pigeon. But the truth is: you’re only here to follow the orders. Investigating as undercover agents. Hunting someone suspected to belong to the Revolutionary Army. The best way to gather information was to infiltrate the kindergarten. Nothing more. You’ll leave this place as soon as you’re done with your mission.

“Hungry?” You ask suddenly, walking in the kitchen and opening the cupboard of the countertop, trying to figure out what you could cook for dinner. Lucci leans against the doorway, watching you move around the kitchen with an unreadable expression. He crosses his arms over his chest, his feline muscle flexing slightly under his shirt. “Don’t change the topic. The parents are our target.” He says flatly. His gaze lingers on your backside as you bend down to look in the cupboard, his mind starting to wander from the mission to other thoughts. Slowly, like a predator, he walks in silence, with velvet steps. If you weren’t trained, you wouldn’t notice him approaching you, and you would have jumped out in surprise at the contact of his arms wrapping your waist from behind.

“Keep a cool head,” he murmurs against your neck, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. His hands slowly slide from your waist to your hips, pulling you back against his body. “Those kids call you ‘Miss’ every day. But they’ll grow up someday. Some of them might end up being our enemies. Maybe we killed the parents of some of them.” You nod at his dark reminder. “You know I’m taking our job seriously, you don’t have to remind me of the basics. I think you should be the one focusing on our targets. Your gaze was soft when I was playing with the kids. What were you thinking about?” 

Lucci tightens his arms around you. “Nothing,” his hands spread possessively over your stomach. He takes a deep breath, his sensitive sense of smell enjoying your refined perfume, blends with his own perfume… but also the scent of books, papers, milk and… painting. “You painted with them today. You probably smiled at them, praising them for their ugly drawings. It’s unnerving. You’re an assassin, not a kindergarten teacher, even less a mother”

“I’m just playing a role. Don’t tell me you imagine me as a mother. We’re Cipher Pol agents.” Despite your words, you can’t help but picture how life would be if you had a child. “Exactly,” Lucci says coldly, but his hands don’t move away from your stomach. Instead, they seem to curve around it. “We kill people, we don’t raise children.” But even as he says it, his imagination seems to be getting the better of him. His thumbs start to move gently, like he’s imagining something soft and round under his palms. “In another life, maybe we could have been a normal couple. But not in this one.” He adds, his sensual touch making you shiver even if his words are cold, brutal, yet real. “In another life,” you repeat lowly. 

Lucci’s hands continue to move over your stomach, his mind filled with forbidden thoughts. In another life, you and he would have a cute house like this one, a white picket fence, a little kid, a dog, and Hattori. So cliché. Yet so tempting. The night, he would take his beloved wife to bed and fuck her senseless until she got pregnant again. 

“In another life… But this is our life,” Lucci murmurs, his voice strained with unspoken desires. “We’re not meant to be parents.” His actions aren’t following his words, his hands moving from your stomach to cup your breasts above the soft fabric of your shirt. Pressed against the countertop, you rest your palms on the cool wood, shivering under Lucci’s touch. “Our job is dangerous,” He continues to speak, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the silk fabric of your clothes. “We can’t dream.” He affirms, but still, his fingers are unbuttoning your shirt. His lips are so soft against your neck, making you shudder. “We will never have a normal life,” He continues, playing with the lace of your bra. Even as he speaks facts, his mind is half-filled with dark thoughts. Like taking you on this counter like an animal.

Lucci hooks his fingers into the lace of your bra, pulling it down to expose your breasts. He purrs quietly against your neck. “They are fuller than usual…..” His other hand reaches around to grab your hip possessively. “Fuck…” He whispers harshly, his mind completely distracted from the mission and reality. All he can think about is bending you over the countertop and breeding you right here, in this goddamn kitchen. Fucking you so hard until you scream for mercy and carry his baby the next day. “They aren’t fuller than usual, you’re imagining things Lucci…” You exhale softly, enjoying the sensation of his skilled fingers playing with your nipple.

Lucci knows your body by heart. It’s unfair. 

“I’m not imagining things, I learned every single inch of your skin,” he replies gruffly. “They are bigger and heavier.” He unhooks your bra, pushing the fabric of your shirt off your shoulders, trapping your arms inside while he continues to play with your breasts. “They’re most sensitive. Rounder. Fuller.” Even without seeing his face, you feel Lucci’s hungry gaze. Unconsciously, you press your ass against his hardening cock. Lucci hisses, but continues his sensual torture with your nipple, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against your jawline, marking you, leaving his smell on you. 

“You’re killing me…” He grins against you deliberately, letting you feel exactly how hard you’ve made him. “Condom?” You totally forgot the dinner you wanted to cook, your mind and body totally focused on Lucci. His touch, his lips, his perfume… “No condom.” You answer, even if you know it’s a bad idea. You’re always using condoms. For obvious reasons. But right now, you need to feel him, raw. Now. 

Lucci freezes, buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “No condom?” He repeats hoarsely, his voice laced with desire and a hint of caution. His hips press forward, rubbing his hard bulge against your ass through the thin fabric of your skirt covering your thighs and knees. “You want me bare inside you?” He slides his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt up until his fingers brush against your lace panties, his kisses along your neck turning more needy, urgent. “No pulling out.” It’s not a question but a statement – he wants to breed you right here, right now, his cold mind totally gave up, letting the predator hidden deep down inside him control his actions.

“No pulling out,” you repeat, your breath itching as Lucci’s fingers trace your wet folds through the fabric of your panties. “You’re soaked,” he purrs, feeling the dampness through the lace. Without warning, he tears your panties off, reduces in pieces your shirt and your bra, his claws destroying the tissue effortlessly. “Lucci! I loved this outfit…” You wail, annoyed by his tendency to always rip your clothes instead of taking them off. But the second he grabs your breast again with one hand, unbuckling his belt with the other, you stop protesting. “I’ll buy something better.” He murmurs distractedly. “Bend over the counter.” 

You obey. Damn, you look like a dream with your skirt raised, the pieces of clothes all messy on the ground. He groans at this sight; it’s pure obscenity. Lucci’s belt falls on the floor with a clatter, followed by the sound of his zipper being yanked down slowly, just to play with your nerves, with your senses. You hear him, you feel him, he’s everywhere, since, you can’t see him. “Arch your back.” Lucci’s command, grabbing his hard cock, giving it a few pumps. 

You lick your lips, arching your back, picturing Lucci jerking himself off, his pupils dilated with primal desire. His predatory gaze is intimidating, observing your arching back, breasts pressing against the countertop, skirt bunched up around your waist. His self-control snaps. Lucci steps closer, his hand guiding his length between your thighs until it presses against your soaking cut. He pauses there for a moment, savoring the feeling before slamming into you, deeply, with one powerful thrust. No foreplay needed when you both are this needy. Lucci purrs as he fills you to the hilt; you gasp. Submerged by the incredible sensation of his cock inside you - raw. You can feel each vein, your velvet walls wrapped tightly around his girth.

“Lucci…” You moan, voice dripping with lust. You want him to move, not to stay still. A low rumble rolls down his throat. Lucci’s hips pull back slightly before slamming into you, setting a brutal pace – the brutal pace of someone who's been holding back for too long. Each thrust is deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. “You feel so good,” he grits out between clenched teeth. One hand slides up to grab a fistful of your hair, the other stays firmly on your hip, controlling your movement completely. He’s fucking you raw and rough, just like he imagined – a primal claiming in this way too lovely kitchen. His cock slides in and out of you smoothly; the indecent sound of skin slapping against skin and the sliding noise of your wet cunt filling the room. 

Each thrust elicits a moan or sigh of ecstasy, you whisper Lucci’s name like a prayer, like if it was the only word you ever learned and heard about in your whole life. Hypnotized, Lucci watches his length disappearing inside you again and again. He spreads your thighs wider with his knees, going even deeper, squeezing your ass cheeks to have a better view of your pussy swallowing his length, coating it with your juice. Oh, you’re so perfect, your back muscles flexing as he pounds into you, how your body is always responding to his… 

Your nails claw the cool wood of the countertop, trying to hold onto something but you can’t find any grip. Lucci notices your struggles, pulls out brutally and grabs your hips, lifting you up effortlessly and sitting you on the countertop. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist as he slams back inside you, with even more intensity. His face is a masterpiece of raw desire, primal need. Pupils dilated, jaws clenched tightly, sweat dripping on his forehead, his pretty long, black ink hair all messy. Lucci grabs your hips to pull you closer to the edge of the counter. “Look at me”, he orders, his eyes darkening. 

You obey, looking at him, your lips partly open, your eyes half-lidded and full of lust, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. And Lucci drinks in this sight as he slides in and out, giving you his entire length. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You whisper, knowing he’s holding back just because he doesn’t want to leave marks on you that could place you in an embarrassing situation at the kindergarten. 

Lucci’s eyes flash with pure lust, and something feral takes over him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back sharply to expose your neck. He bites down hard on the tender, soft flesh, marking you deeply – the other teachers can go to hell. His hips snap forward brutally, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly, claws out, leaving bruises and scratches everywhere on your skin. “Mine…” He grunts like a hungry predator, feline. “Yours.”

He’s fucking you with animalistic hunger, bitting your lower lip so hard it bleeds slightly, and he licks the drop of blood with a low growl of nothing but pure satisfaction. His teeth mark you everywhere on your neck, then your collarbone, hungry hickeys on your breasts, he claims every damn inch of your skin. Lucci doesn’t share. Never. A feline keeps its prey for itself. Even more when the prey happens to be his beautiful wife and a talented, merciless agent at the same time. 

You grab Lucci’s hair, locking your eyes onto his. This gaze… it screams he wants to fill you up so much that it leaks out of you tomorrow. Each thrust is designed to plant his seed inside you. “Gonna fill this perfect little cunt up so fucking full of my cum. You want it? Want me to breed you right here on this counter?” His voice drops dark, smooth, that voice able to send shudders and shivers through your entire body. “Answer.” Lucci urges you, grabbing your chin roughly, his claws digging in the delicate flesh of your face. “Do it…” You almost beg and Lucci loses the last piece of his self-control, his balls tightening at your words. He pounds into you desperately now – like a beast possessed with one single goal: breeding, claiming, marking. He aims for your cervix with each thrust. 

“You…” He starts, his voice sounding like a delicious, forbidden threat, his thumb circling your clit firmly. “I’m going to fill you up until it’s leaking out of this pretty little cunt… but you won’t waste any single drop, I’ll stuff everything right back into you. Even tomorrow you will still have my fucking cum trying to drop down your legs and you will keep it deep down inside you.” 

Face flushed, dripping wet, you grab a fist of Lucci’s hair. He buries his face in your neck, biting you. Tomorrow, you will get back to your duties, you will erase all this stupid talk about starting a family… But for now, he can’t even think about work. His cock throbs inside you, his heavy balls slamming against your ass, begging for release. With a pretty, dangerous grunt, Lucci plunges his teeth in the crook of your neck and slams into you one last time with all his might. His cock pulses violently as he cum inside you, the first hot rope of seed hitting deep in your womb, exactly where he wants it most. You shiver, holding Lucci’s hair like if it was your lifeline, your legs trembling as more streams of cum pump directly inside you. “Damn you,” Lucci whispers against your sore, bruised, marked skin as he thrusts slowly inside you, emptying his balls completely into you. You can feel his seed coating your walls, making a mess inside your cunt. 

You never felt so good, so full in your whole life. 

Feeling Lucci’s seed inside you for the first time… it’s pure heaven. 

When he pulls out, his cum leaks out of you, making a mess on your thighs and on the floor. But instead of eating you out to clean you up whenever you’re soaking as he always does, Lucci nearly roars, pushing you back against the counter. His fingers stuff you back with each single leaking drop, as promised. “Don’t you dare move. Keep it all inside. Shut your legs.” Exhausted, skin dewy with sweat, your shut your trembling legs. “Better.” 

The kitchen of your lovely, fake house is a mess. Your clothes ripped in pieces on the floor, the countertop all wet with your sweat and how you soaked wet on it. But Lucci doesn’t care. He adjusts his pants before carrying you effortlessly, bridal style. As he walks to the bedroom, he purrs. 

“You’re going to sleep stuffed full of me tonight.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.

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You had been sleeping so soundly, warm and secure under the blanket and curled up against the pillows and in Buggy’s arms only to be suddenly and jarringly woken by a furious yell and sent flopping back against the mattress. As you blinked through your disorientation and tried to gather your wits about you, Buggy was already out of bed and angrily spitting curses and declaring war on Shanks as he he threw on the light causing your to groan and shield your eyes to the abrupt brightness. “Buggy what’s going on?”

“Oh he’s done it this time!” Buggy ranted, too lost in his plan for vengeance to discern reality and his mind’s imagination. “That bastard is going to be begging me for mercy by the time I’m through with him! He’ll scream and cry and it still won’t be enough! I need him to suffer for this.”

“Wha? Who?” You grumbled in confusion trying to force your limbs to comply and force yourself to sit up in the bed. Biting back a heavy yawn you crossed your arms loosely on your propped up knees and slowly followed Buggy’s manic pacing around the room. “What happened Bug?”

“Red hair!” Buggy seethed, tearing open a drawer and grabbing handfuls of sea charts and began to look them over as if one of them would magically have a ‘Shanks is here’ written next to one of the drawn islands. “Thinks he can just marry you and get away with it?! I don’t think so! He doesn’t deserve you!”

That was enough to shake you from your sleep-heavy stupor and the pieces were finally beginning to fall into place. You let out a small, soft sigh and pushed away the covers before padding towards your lover. The more agitated he was getting the more he was separating his body to gesture widely and angrily. By the time you reached him, he was in the middle of describing the in-depth way he was going to torture his former crew-mate. You settled your hands on his shoulders and coaxed him to turn and face you. At the feel of your touch, Buggy stopped and his severed head that had been reaching very close to the ceiling stopped and looked down at you. He slowly began to let his limbs retract back and once his head was in reach you smiled up at him, lifting your hands you managed to cup his jaw.

“Shanks didn’t marry me.” You reassured him softly, thumbs soothingly caressing his cheeks as he finally reattached himself. “Just a silly dream. See? I’m right here with you.”

“Yeah…You’re here.” Buggy let out a restrained sigh, his gaze dropping from your face to glare at the floor. It may have been a dream but Shanks always got his way. If he wanted you, he’d swoop you off your feet like it was nothing. “For now at least.” 

The last half had been a soft muttering, he hadn’t even intended to say it, only think it but with the nightmare still clinging to his mind and it unrooting his deep and longstanding feeling of insignificance compared to Shanks. Abruptly you flicked Buggy’s forehead, snapping him out of his twisting thoughts. “For always.” You insisted firmly. You leant in and pressed a quick kiss against his cheek before turning towards the bed again, confident your words would snap him out of his worries. “Don’t believe me? Put a ring on my finger if you really want to make sure.” 

CROCODILE

Crocodile knew the high stakes gambles that occurred in everyday life. Especially the life of a criminal. A pirate. Every action came with the risk of a reward and an even greater risk of losing it all in a matter of seconds. He knew that better than most. He’d lost his hand and didn’t let it break him. When he was on the cusp of gaining everything he’d ever dreamed of in his plans to overtake Alabasta and gain a secret weapon it was all taken away from him by some no-good rookie in a strawhat. Even then he managed to claw back from that, breaking out of prison along with the same little runt responsible for putting him there. Crocodile put everything into his newfound freedom to getting stronger, to being on top once more. With every passing day that came and he built his name back up from nothing he truly believed he wasn’t going to lose again.

That was until he realised all those other loses meant nothing. They paled in comparison to this. He would gladly take those knocks and defeats time and time again if that meant this, what he was seeing now wasn’t happening, would never happen. At this moment he wished nothing more than to be able to conjure his sand to shield you and to envelop the cretin that dared to lay his hand on you while reciting marriage vows but for some reason his power wouldn’t work. Not even a single grain of sand would appear and do his bidding. It failed him and he had no choice but to stand and watch you marry Doflamingo. Even worse you were doing so willingly. As you spoke your vows you held no sign of hesitation or fear. No matter how hard he looked he saw no sign of Doflamingo’s strings manipulating your body to force you to reach out and take his hand. You didn’t even flinch when it came to the kiss and Crocodile felt bile rise in his throat to see you eagerly lean into the embrace.

Crocodile woke with a short but sharp inhale and with a low sigh he lifted his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose as he calmed himself from the tension still coiling in his body and rid himself of the images that had decided to disrupt what should have been a pleasant night’s sleep. Ever since getting out of Impel Down and reuniting with you, he’d only be able to find a peaceful rest with you. And those dreams that did feature you were always something he enjoyed. Until tonight. See you looking so stunning and so in love but doing so for someone else, especially someone like Doflamingo had gotten to him more than he wanted to admit. With another sigh he looked down to see you draped over him, sleeping soundly and from your expression he could see you were not afflicted with nightmares like he had been. As he studied your face the image of you beaming excitedly at Doflamingo in anticipation of the kiss flashed in his head and he let out a frustrated growl.

It was childish to cling to thoughts like that. It wasn’t real. You weren’t interested in Doflamingo. Certainly not that way and hardly enough to marry the Warlord. He knew the difference between reality and fantasy. So why was it still playing on his mind like this? Knowing he wasn’t going to get back to sleep anytime soon, Crocodile began to ease out of the bed only to stop when you stirred. In protest your arms tightened around his broad frame and your face scrunched up in annoyance. “Where’re you goin?”

“Just to get some fresh air.” Crocodile murmured, settling his hand on your shoulder to begin getting out of bed again. Instead you strengthened your efforts to cling to him and keep him where he was. “Just go back to sleep and I’ll be back before you know it okay?”

“No don’t go!” You grumbled, now throwing your legs around him too. At the moment you were both traveling through a winter island and it made you clingier than normal. With a yawn you nuzzled in closer to Crocodile. “You’re warm, too cosy. Stay.”

“If you were in Dressrosa you’d be warm even without me.” Crocodile mused softly, knowing it was pointless to try and move again. He would’t fully admit it but he didn’t want to.

“Why’d I want to go there?” You asked sleepily, managing to lift your head up enough to look at him curiously. “You do remember who lives there don’t you?”

From the look of unrestrained annoyance at the implication of Doflamingo, it was safe to say that yes, Crocodile did in fact know who was there. Which only furthered your sleepy confusion about why Crocodile would mention the island. “What’s wrong Croc?”

“Just a dream.” Crocodile’s answer was short but not sharp. You were the only person he would speak openly with. Even with a handful of words, it was enough for you to begin to decipher.

“That I ran off to Dressrosa?”

“Mhm…” Crocodile gently ran his knuckles against your cheek. “To marry Doflamingo.”

Your eyebrows rose slightly and you let out a soft laugh. “I’d rather eat glass.” You grinned at the sound of Crocodile’s deep chuckle, feeling him relax at last. “But maybe dream-me only said yes because dream-Doflamingo asked?”

“Is that so?” Crocodile asked with a smirk, watching you settle back down against his chest and close your eyes to go back to sleep. Your hold on him remaining just as strong as it had been earlier. 

“Mhm. Just something to think about.” You uttered softly, smiling to yourself when you began to drift to sleep to the feeling of Crocodile’s fingers lightly move over yours, specifically focussing on your currently bare ring finger. Yes, he’d definitely think about it.    

SABO

It had been amazing to reunite with Luffy and his crew again in the middle of another mission. Thankfully this one was more laidback and not as intense or with as high stakes as the events on Dressrosa. Even better had been the fact that you had come along with Sabo on this particular mission which meant you finally got to meet the little brother of your boyfriend. Yes you’d seen his face on the bounty posters and scattered in newspaper reports, and when Sabo had reclaimed his memories of his brothers and returned from Dressrosa, he couldn’t help but excitedly talk about his remaining brother. It had felt like you’d known the chaotic and energetic Captain your whole life before actually getting to meet him face to face. It made Sabo’s mood even better to see you get along so well with Luffy and his crew. 

So it was shocking when later that night he was given such a twisted dream to torture him. He was stuck in the dream with no control to change the images before him, unable to even move or shout out. Try as he did to shut his eyes and try to wake himself up he couldn’t. No. He had to take in every single detail and watch you -the person he loved more than anything- literally walk through him like he didn’t exist and walk to the front of the altar where your husband-to-be stood waiting. While Sabo’s jaw had dropped at how amazing you looked and literally made his heart skip a beat even though you didn’t seem to know he existed in this dream, his shock and horror came at the sight of who it was. It had been years since he saw him but the Revolutionary Army’s extensive intelligence had allowed him to know how he’d look now and his hate all but grew to even greater reaches as he watched this horrorshow of a wedding play out. 

Thankfully his subconscious took pity on him and ended before the stomach churning kiss happened. He must have tried to stop you both at the same time he woke because with a yell he’d launched himself out of the bed and landed awkwardly on the floor, legs tangled in the sheets and his bleary vision sharpening to find everything was upside down. Craning his head back Sabo saw you looking down at him expectantly, lips curved in amusement in spite of clearly being woken by him. “Even when you’re sleeping, you aren’t satisfied unless you’re playing the hero, huh Chief?”

“What do you mean?” Sabo asked with a groan as he untangled himself and climbed back into bed with you. 

“You were talking a lot.” You explained, having been awake for most of watching Sabo experience his dream. You were used to being woken in the night when he was suffering recurring and terrifying nightmares but knew this one wasn’t as bad as any of them which was why you hadn’t attempted to wake him from it. “Mostly telling someone ‘stop, don’t do it’ there was a lot of calling them a ‘bastard’ too. So what was the mission?”

“Not exactly a mission…more a torture than anything.” Sabo explained as he slumped down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you and tucking his head under your chin while you held him close and played with his hair, your usual positions for when Sabo had a bad dream. Sabo let his eyes drift closed under your practiced and soothing touch. Then when he’d relaxed and not as shaken of what he’d seen in his sleep he was ready to talk about it. “I dreamt you married my brother.”

“Luffy?” You asked in confusion, thrown enough to stop your motions. Sabo let out a small laugh.

“No! Sterry, the adopted stepbrother.” He clarified, his smile lessening slightly. “Remember I told you about him and my birth family?”

“Yeah…” You nodded gently, unable to hide the frown from your face. When Sabo told you of the past he’d finally remembered you experienced the sharp contrast in seeing his happiness in recounting his adventures with Ace and Luffy and then the darker expression that took over him when he eventually opened up about his parents, not that they deserved to be called that. You could only reason that meeting up with Luffy and sharing stories about their childhood with you and the others made him more thoughtful on his past than he’d realised. Gently you started to play with Sabo’s hair again, needing to ease his worries. “So looks like I don’t need to worry about being stolen away to marry some creep then. From the way you leapt off the bed I can tell I’m in safe hands.”

“You’re always in good hands with me.” Sabo grinned, tightening his hold around you a little for emphasis making you laugh softly. “Not that it’s anything to worry about but if some creep did try to steal you away they wouldn’t get you near the altar before I stopped them.”

“My hero,” you swooned before pressing a kiss against his head and stifling a short yawn. Now that Sabo was calmed, you were able to settle back and get back to sleep. As you were falling back over you let out a sleepy laugh. “I should offer you my hand in marriage as a reward.”

Sabo perked up at the suggestion, the gears in his mind slowly turning at the idea. It wasn’t like you and Sabo hadn’t discussed getting married before, you were both committed to each other with just as much devotion you offered the Revolutionary Army. Plus Luffy’s ship was still docked at the island and Captains could marry people. What better time than to make newer, happier memories like this? 

LUCCI

For anyone that knew him, they would claim Lucci was hard to render shaken or put into a state of disbelief. For all his immense and diligent training he was a master over his emotions. Yes, sometimes people mistook that as believing he was incapable of showing any true emotion the truth of the matter was he suppressed any that would be seen as a possible risk to the current mission he was on. And he always ensured his missions were completed successfully with as little issues as possible. It didn’t matter if he was to be gone for years, like he’d done when he was stuck on Water 7, the time away from his home on the Cipher Pol base was inconsequential as long he achieved the task set.

When he returned from such a lengthy mission, he was greeted by the usual salutes and chorused welcomes and congratulations. He stared blankly ahead, ignoring how the practically faceless and insignificant lower ranked agents stared at him in equal parts awe and fear, as it should be. As he entered the base he slowed his steps, glancing around curiously to the sight of extra decorations adoring the place. His nose wrinkled at the heightened smell of flowers practically masking all other scents and the distant sound of excited talking. “Well look what the cat dragged in!”

“Shut it, mutt.” Lucci turned his head to glare over his shoulder as Jabra strutted towards him, smug grin plastered over his face. He was not who he wanted to see on his arrival. “What’s the meaning for all this?”

“Oh you mean you didn’t hear?” Jabra’s grin spread wider, failing to hold back his own laughter. “Well come on and see for yourself.”

“What nonsense are you talking about now??” Lucci asked, his mood souring as he followed Jabra out of the room and towards where the talking was coming from. Stepping into the large banquet hall Lucci stopped to see the many seats filled with spectators, none of them mattering. The only thing that immediately stole his attention was you standing at the other end of the room, your arms around Kaku as you both shared a kiss to the sound of applause. 

“Guess you were away too long to bother sending an invite to.” Jabra cackled from beside him, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. “At least you got here before they cut the cake though.” 

Lucci ignored Jabra’s echoing laughter, his sharp gaze only on you as you finally looked his way. You broke out into an excited smile and hurried towards him.

You’d been sleeping peacefully with your back to Lucci, blissfully unaware of what had been going through his subconscious. You stirred the smallest amount when you felt his hand that had been loosely settled on your leg moved to curl around your waist and sharply pull you back so you were held tightly and possessively against his chest, his head buried into the crook of your neck. With a small, questioning hum you began to wake. “Lucci?” 

He didn’t twitch and from the new position you could feel his steady breath against your skin, telling you he was sleeping deeply. You could also tell whatever it was he was dreaming it wasn’t by any means peaceful. You thought you caught the muttered growl of ‘mutt’ and assumed it was simply a dream about the man he reluctantly had to work with and relaxed with the intent to fall back to sleep but that was stopped once more when Lucci’s already iron grip around you tightened and a long growl built in his chest. With more effort that you thought you’d have to exert so late at night, you managed to turn in the man’s hold so you were facing him and reached up and rubbed just behind his ear. “Wake up Lucci.”

Lucci’s eyes snapped open and he frowned heavily. While his mind began to separate what had obviously been a dream he stared down at you, his expression giving nothing away. He knew dreams were nothing to read too much into, for the most part they were nothing, barely remembered when he woke up. But this, what he’d just seen held onto his mind in a way similar to how he continued to hold you now. His life always prioritised the mission and wishes of the organisation he served, emotional attachments were secondary. When you both originally started this, it was purely physical, something to ease tension and satisfy needs, nothing more. Lucci had respected you as a skilled agent, he wouldn’t have looked your way if you hadn’t been. But he knew whatever this was hadn’t been ‘just physical’ for a very long time. You hadn’t pushed him on any aspect of it or questioned what the two of you were to each other. The times he had been away for long missions, he would by lying if he said you hadn’t crossed his mind or said you weren’t the first person he sought out on his return. When he finally shook the ridiculous image of you married to and kissing Kaku free from his mind, Lucci, took your wrist to stop your movements and released it just as quickly.

“Better?” You asked settling your hand against the bedsheets. 

“Yes, go back to sleep.” Lucci nodded readjusting you in his arms so you were still firmly in his hold but not so tight that it would cause you any pain. “You have a mission to prep for.”

“The undercover one with Kaku?” You asked with a yawn, noticing Lucci’s fingers flex slightly as he closed his eyes. “That’s not until next week.”

“There was a change of plan, you’re off that mission. Kaku can manage with someone else.”

“So what’s the new one?”

“You’ll be coming with me. I’ll give you the details in the morning.” Lucci explained and you stared at him as a slow smile curved your lips. For as guarded and aloof as Lucci seemed you were able to read into his limited words and actions a lot better than others. Feeling your stare, Lucci’s eyes opened to stare at you hard. “What?”

“You aren’t taking me off that mission because you didn’t like the idea of me and Kaku having to pretend to be a married couple did you?” Lucci clicked his tongue and slid his eyes closed once more while pulling you against him. His silence all the answer you needed but you couldn’t help but lean in to press a tender kiss against his lips. While Lucci was never the one to openly voice his feelings, you knew he would always find a way to show it. 

———————

Crocodile:

You hadn’t meant to touch him.

The conference room was full of killers, and you had stayed quiet, unreadable as you were told because that was your strength. You were a broker one of the youngest allowed in this blood-soaked circle, not because of strength, but because you knew when to keep your damn mouth shut.

Except for when your fingers grazed his.

It had been a fleeting moment someone bumped your chair, your balance faltered, and your hand caught the edge of the armrest next to you. Except it wasn’t empty. Crocodile was already seated there, cigar in hand, gold hook resting on the table.

You touched his skin.

And everything shifted.

The vision hit like a freight ship.

You stood on a sandstorm-swept cliff, wind howling like a banshee. Crocodile was in front of you, bleeding, furious but not at you. "Don’t you dare - don’t you fucking dare leave me," he growled. You took a staggering step toward him. He grabbed your hand pressed his forehead to yours. "You’re all I have left."

And then it was over.

Your fingers recoiled like you’d been burned. Crocodile glanced at you sharply. The eye contact was brief, but he noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze sharpened, a predator smelling a shift in the wind.

You forced yourself to look away. Pretended to jot notes but your hand, it trembled.

Later that night you were alone on the balcony of the summit villa, nursing a glass of wine and a headache. The sea below was black and endless and you were too lost in thoughts to hear him approach.

"You touched me."

You didn’t look back. “I lost my balance.”

Crocodile exhaled smoke behind you. It curled over your shoulder like a living thing.

"You saw something."

Silence.

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch but enough that you felt it. His presence was heavy, charged.

"Your Devil Fruit," he said slowly. "The rumors are true."

You turned then, eyes meeting his. "You were warned not to touch me."

His lips curled into something like a smirk but there was no humor in it. "I don’t fear little parlor tricks, little flower."

"It’s not a trick. I saw your desire."

You watched his expression and saw a flicker of tension, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing.

You went on anyway. "You don’t want power. Or revenge. You want….someone."

He flicked ash over the railing. "Lust is human." he said calmly, unimpressed even.

"It wasn’t lust."

Now he looked at you fully. Dark eyes, smoldering with something far more dangerous than anger.

"Then you saw too much." Was all he said before he walked away again.

The days that followed were hell.

Crocodile made sure to stay out of "touching range", but he hovered, always in your periphery. Always watching.

You felt it in the way your skin prickled. The way he lingered too long in every meeting. The way he said your name, like it was a secret he refused to keep.

And worse, the way he looked at you now was not indifferent.

You saw it, a piece of him no one else did. Something he buried deep under years of blood and sand and arrogance.

That made you dangerous.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about that vision. Not just what he wanted, but how desperately he wanted it. How broken and raw his voice had been when he said it.

"You’re all I have left."

The breaking point came the next night in the garden.

It was late. You were alone again - or so you thought.

"You don’t sleep much."

You turned. "And you don’t leave me alone." You said glaninc briefly at him.

He looked tired. Less composed. Shirt open at the throat. Cigar forgotten.

"Why?" you asked. "Why do you keep circling me like a hawk?"

"Because you took something from me," he said vpice low as he stepped closer to you.

"What?" You asked blinking confused.

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he reached out and this time, he touched you on purpose. Bare fingers, sliding along yours.

Another vision hit:

You, standing in the rain, bloodied, but alive. Him, cupping your cheek with his flesh hand, thumb caressing your skin. His hook protectively at your back like an oath. "I’ll protect you. Even if it kills me."

You gasped as the vision ended.

He didn’t let go. "You saw what I didn’t want anyone to know," he murmured. "That I’m tired of pretending I feel nothing."

"Why me?" you asked voice trembling, body shaking.

A beat of silence.

"Because you didn’t flinch," he said. "Even now, you look at me like I’m still a man."

"Are you?" you asked voice cracking

His lips twitched. "Would it matter?"

You didn’t answer just looked at him and he leaned in. Foreheads so close, breaths warm and mingling.

"You scare the hell out of me," you whispered.

"Good," he said. "That makes us even."

And then he closed the gap between you two. The kiss was a mistake, it was desperate, messy. Like trying to drown a fire and you pushed him away the first time. He let you, smirking, but not too far.

The second kiss wasn’t a mistake as you pulled him back giving in to the temptation, the desire, the need.

They said you tamed a monster.

They were wrong.

He was still a monster.

But now, when he burned the world, he burned it for you.

And when his enemies came too close, they didn’t face a sandstorm.

They faced a man willing to destroy the world just to keep your hands from shaking.

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Mihawk:

You stood in a candle-lit hall surrounded by the most dangerous men on the Grand Line, playing the part of a neutral mediator.

You didn’t expect him to be there or well maybe you did but you had just hoped he wouldn’t.

Dracule Mihawk. The Greatest Swordsman. Dressed in black and crimson, leaning against the far wall like a painting come to life.

He radiated silence. Precision. Control.

You made a point to avoid him after your last encounters with him. But fate didn’t care about your plans.

The chaos began when someone bumped into you, a minor captain, flailing, spilling wine.

You stumbled back and straight into Mihawk.

A bare hand caught your wrist. Just for a second.

And that was all it took for the vision hit you like a blade.

You, barefoot in his castle. Dressed in silk. Standing in front of a fire, wrapped in his coat. Mihawk behind you, eyes unreadable, fingers brushing your jaw. "Stay," he murmured in the dream. It was the most intimate thing you had ever seen from anyone, especially him.

And when you jolted back to reality, his gaze locked on you like he knew.

You quickly pulled away. "I-I’m fine, I’m sorry," you muttered, voice brittle.

He said nothing. But his stare lingered too long.

Later that night, you found yourself alone in the garden beneath the moonlight, trying to slow your racing heart. He found you again, silent as shadow.

"You saw something," Mihawk said, voice low and cutting. Not a question. A fact.

Your mouth went dry.

"I didn’t mean to," you admitted. "It only happens with skin contact."

"Interesting," he replied, stepping closer. "And what did you see?"

You looked up at him. His expression was unreadable. Cold, calculating… but something flickered behind his eyes. Hope? Fear? Annoyance?

"You were… home," you said carefully. "At peace."

That was not entirely a lie. But it also wasn't the whole truth.

But he accepted it. Barely.

"Keep your distance from now on," he said. "I don’t need you reading my mind."

"You think I want to?" you snapped. "I see things I never asked for. Every handshake, every shove, every accidental brush…..it’s a flood of everyone’s secrets. Do you know what that feels like?"

Mihawk’s expression didn’t change.

But his voice softened just slightly. "No. But I understand the cost of power."

He left before you could answer.

Over the next days, he avoided you. And you avoided him.

Except when you didn’t.

He lingered longer during briefings. Sat closer at the table. Your eyes met too often to be coincidence.

And then, it happened again.

A thunderstorm cracked over the island. You slipped on the rain-slick stone and someone caught you…….him again.

The vision rushed in.

You, in his castle again, dinner together, candles lit, a glass of wine before you, untouched because you were busy……kissing him, like it was the end of the world.

You jerked back, breathless, trembling.

He didn’t let go.

"Tell me," he said.

Your voice shook. "You want something you think you’re not allowed to have."

"Because it’s dangerous," he whispered. "Because I always win. And I’m afraid I’d ruin you."

You looked up, and your heart cracked open like a wound.

"Then stop touching me," you said. "Or stop pretending you don’t care."

The summit ended with deals were made and for once no blood spilled. But he didn’t leave.

He found you at the edge of the cliffside the next night. Wind in your hair. Sand crunching beneath your boots.

"I don’t know how to love gently," he said.

You turned. "I don’t need gentle. I need real."

Mihawk reached for you, slowly this time, and you let him. His fingers brushed your cheek, and the vision didn’t hit you like a wave.

This time, it bloomed.

It showed a future. A choice he had made. Not a fantasy, not a secret longing, just him, choosing you.

And for once, you saw your own desire reflected back.

When the vision ended, he looked down at you and he kissed you, it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t war. It was something infinitely more dangerous.

Surrender – him giving in to his desire.

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Lucci:

Lucci sat across from you now at a round conference table. He was silent, unreadable, flanked by the pigeon that watched you just as closely as its master. You kept your gloves on. You’ve heard the stories about CP0’s attack dog. Stoic. Merciless. Efficient.

Everytime you crossed paths with him you were surprised all over with how beautiful he was.

Not soft, never that. But there was a deadly grace in his stillness, the way his eyes rested like the flat of a blade on your skin. It was a look that said he knew what you were. What you were hiding.

You were extra careful. Until the second day of negotiations.

It happened fast. A flash of chaos during the midday meeting, two idiots broke into an argument, and someone flipped the table. You were shoved sideways, stumbling, and reaching out blindly to steady yourself.

Your bare hand crashed into Lucci’s wrist.

Shit.

Your world snapped away and the vision flashed before your eyes, flooding your senses.

Red silk sheets and low candlelight. Lucci was leaning against the headboard, half undressed, but it was not the lust that stole your breath, it was the quiet. You were there, beside him. Sleeping against his chest like you belonged there, his arm around you, watching you, like he was afraid you’d vanish. A calloused hand brushed a strand of hair from your face with infinite care, and in that moment, Lucci, the monster, the cipher, the assassin, looked more vulnerable than anyone you’ve ever seen. He wanted peace. He wanted you. And he’d never allow himself either.

The vision collapsed.

You ripped your hand back like you’ve been burned. Lucci’s expression didn’t change. Not one fraction.

But he knew.

You saw it.

After that you avoided him for the rest of the day. You sat far away from him instead, engaging in dry trade debates you barely heared. But Lucci was never far. Every time you glanced up, he was there in the corner, always watching. Not speaking. Not moving.

You dreamt of the vision that night. Of his hand brushing your cheek. Of a silence that felt like safety only to wake up breathless.

The next morning, he cornered you.

Not roughly, he simply appeared in the hallway outside your suite, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. The hallway was empty and the air was sharp with frost.

"I won’t ask what you saw," he said, his voice low and even, making you tense.

"But I would like to know," he added, stepping forward, "why it disturbed you."

Your throat tightened. "You touched me," you said carefully. "I don’t like that."

"You touched me," he corrected. "The reaction wasn’t fear. It was pity."

That hit a nerve. "So now you read minds too?" You asked a little harshly.

"No," he said, "just yours."

You wanted to deny it. You wanted to insult him. But his tone wasn’t cruel it was…..curious. Cautious, even.

"It’s dangerous for people to know what others want," he grumbled tilting his head, making you clench your fists. "Especially when what they want is you."

The silence between you was suffocating. Your heart hammered behind your ribs like it was trying to escape. "It doesn’t matter," you whispered. "You’ll never act on it."

He took one slow step forward. "You’re right." He said bluntly.

His presence was overwhelming, an aura of silent dominance, raw and coiled. But there was a strange gentleness to it now. A restraint that rattled you more than any threat could.

"You didn’t see a fantasy," he murmured. "You saw a possibility. That’s what’s dangerous."

And with that, he left.

The summit ended with a treaty. You should have felt relieved but instead you felt hollow.

You caught Lucci watching you again as the final ships left the port. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those dark, unblinking eyes, held something you now understood.

Need. Not obsession, not hunger. Just Need.

You found a note tucked into your room before you left.

"You saw me unarmed. No one else ever has. That should frighten you. But if it doesn’t, come find me. I’ll be waiting. —R.L."

You didn’t sleep that night, you just sat with the letter in your lap, fingers trembling above your gloves.

You’ve always feared touch. But now? You feared the idea of never being touched by him again and so you decided to go after him.

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Zoro:

The room reeked of tension, gunpowder, old grudges, and barely veiled threats. It was supposed to be neutral ground, a temporary truce between pirate factions to discuss territory lines, enjoy the rum and food and make trades and deals. You didn’t trust any of it or them. Especially not the Straw Hats swordsman leaning against the wall like he owned the air around him.

Roronoa Zoro.

You had heard the stories, demon of the East Blue, three swords, no tolerance for weakness. You even saw him once in action and after that had maybe 2 or 3 run ins with him but that was it.

You expected cold glares and muscle-bound not his eyes to linger on you.

So when you handed him some documents for his Captain, Zoro’s hand briefly met yours and you froze as the vision set in slamming into you like cannon fire making your knees buckle under the force of it:

You - bloody, breathing hard, standing between Zoro and a faceless enemy. Your back to him, a sword in your hand, and defiance in your voice. “You’ll go through me first.” His hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you away out of danger not because he didn’t trust you or because he thought you were weak but because he wanted to protect you to be your shield, to keep you from harm. And then it shifted…..you, in a quiet moment, tucked beside him. Sleeping. His hand buried in your hair, body curled protectively around you, eyes closed but still guarding. He didn’t just want your body. He wanted to protect you, he wanted your loyalty. Your fire. Your presence. He wanted you – all of you.

When you blinked, the vision snapped away. The noise around you from the other pirates was still there. No one noticed, no one paid attention. Except Zoro himself.

His gaze had sharpened and you pulled your hand back fast. Too fast, causing his brow to furrow.

That night you barely slept. The vision kept replaying in your head – how rare it had been. How genuine.

It made no sense. He barely knew you. Why would his desire involve you bleeding for him? Sleeping beside him? Protecting you like you were something sacred?

The next morning you kept catching him watching you after that. Silent. Focused. Not aggressive, but intense.

And you tried to avoid him…..but he didn’t let you.

"Why did you flinch?" he asked, his voice came out of the shadows while you were walking alone, heading back to the guest quarters. He stepped out from between two buildings like he’d been waiting.

"I didn’t," you lied.

He stared at you, then tilted his head. "You looked like you saw a ghost, when we touched."

"I don’t like being touched," you explained forcing a smile.

"Bullshit," he hissed.

"Why do you care?" you asked inhaling sharply.

Zoro’s mouth opened, but he paused because he didn’t have a snarky answer.

"I don’t know," he said, finally. "But I’ve been thinking about it too damn much."

You saw the storm in his eyes and you knew you shouldn’t but he was just as confused and torn as you were and so you told him your secret.

"The Devil Fruit I ate… shows me what people want. If they touch me." You curled your fingers into your gloves. "I don’t mean surface-level stuff. I mean their deepest desire."

"So… you saw mine?" he asked not blinking.

You nodded once.

He looked away. "What was it?"

"I’m not telling you."

"That bad?"

"No. That personal."

"Then I must’ve looked pathetic." He murmured jaw clenching.

You stepped forward, a little closer to him. "No. That’s the problem. You didn’t."

He looked at you then, really looked. "Then what’s the problem?"

You swallowed hard looking at him before answering. "It made me want it too."

Silence.

"What did you see?" he asked again now more persistent.

Your heart hammered. You reached up, tugged one glove off slowly, deliberately.

“Touch me again and find out.”

He stared but then stepped forward.

His hand lifted and for once, it wasn’t a brush, it was a grasp, fingers curling over yours like he needed to hold something steady. Maybe himself.

And you shared the vision with him:

You. His. In every way that mattered. Fighting back to back. Him protecting you. Sleeping side by side. Arguing and laughing and bleeding and living. The sword at your hip matched his. The way he held you wasn’t lust, it was fierce belonging. You weren’t his weakness. You were his anchor.

He dropped your hand like it burned him and backed away a step, breathing hard.

But this time it was you who took a step closer to him. "I saw you," you whispered. "And I didn’t want to run. I wanted to be in that vision."

He blinked once. Then twice.

And suddenly almost out of nowhere he kissed you.

It wasn’t elegant or practiced. It was the kind of kiss you gave when you didn’t have words, when you had seen something terrifying and beautiful and wanted to make it real.

After that you went with him, to stay close, to make the vision, the desire a reality. You never told the others what your fruit did though. You didn’t need to. Zoro never left your side. He didn’t say much but he didn’t need to.

And he always made sure to touch you, your bare skin because he wanted you to see it, see what he wanted, see what he desired, see how much he wanted you.

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Law

Why the hell were you in a room with infamous pirates, locked in a tense alliance negotiation, and thought it was a good idea to be bare-handed?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat at the circular table. Law was directly across from you, arms folded, sharp eyes watching everything. You had met him once before during a cargo handoff and you were sure he didn't remember that. But you did.

Your fingers brushed a silver coin on the table.

"Keep your hands still," Law said without looking at you.

You froze, embarrassed. His voice was quiet but stern, laced with a kind of quiet authority that made the others look over.

You retracted your hand and folded it in your lap.

"Don’t be so harsh," one of the other pirates muttered at Law with a grin. "The little one flinched like you growled."

Law didn’t respond. But his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary.

Hours passed. The summit devolved into shouting, threats, and chest-puffing. You remained silent, observing. Calm. Neutral.

Until someone, an impatient mercenary with more ego than brains, tripped behind your chair.

You reached to steady yourself. Your hand flew out and….Law grabbed your wrist.

The world split open and your vision blurred and suddenly you saw his desire.

A cold room. Snow against steel walls. You, panting, drenched, eyes furious. He reached for you, desperate. A plea in his voice. "Don’t walk away. Stay. Just stay this time." You stood your ground, shaking your head, tears in your eyes. "You don’t need me, Law." His hand cupped your jaw. Gentle. Trembling. "I do. I just don’t know how to say it without destroying you."

The vision snapped shut like a trapdoor and you gasped, ripping your arm away, your knees nearly giving out.

Law’s brows furrowed. "What did you see?" He urged to know.

Shit. He knew.

You didn’t say anything just got up and walked out of the room.

You found him later that night on the edge of the island cliff, the ocean churning below like a storm waiting for permission.

"You didn’t answer my question," he said without turning.

You stayed back. "I didn’t think you’d actually know what my power does."

"I make it a point to know what everyone in the room is capable of," he said. "But I didn’t think you’d use it. Thought you were smarter than that."

"I didn’t mean to."

His head tilted slightly, dark hair blowing in the wind. "Then tell me. What did you see?"

You hesitated for a moment eyes shifting towards the ground. "You… asking me to stay."

He went quiet. So did the wind. And the waves in the ocean beneath it seemed.

"And what did you say?" he asked softly.

"I said you didn’t need me."

His laugh was low, bitter. "Typical. Even in my dreams, I drive people away,"

"No," you said quickly. "That wasn’t….It wasn’t like that. You… You were scared of hurting me. That’s not selfish. That’s human."

Law turned towards you, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable.

"I didn’t want you to see that," he said.

"I didn’t want to see it either," you replied, truth cutting between you. "Because now I can’t stop thinking about it."

He began avoiding you after that, making sure to keep his distance. His eyes were colder, calculations behind every word. But it wasn’t hatred, it was fear. You knew too much now. You had seen a version of him he barely admitted to himself.

And you couldn’t forget it.

You saw it in the way he stared at your hands, never touching you again.

In the way he tensed every time you stood near. He hadn’t spoken of the vision since, but you felt it constantly, the weight of possibility, just out of reach.

Until you broke first.

You cornered him one evening, at the medical bay. Just the two of you, surrounded by clean linens and the quiet hum of solitude.

"I can’t keep pretending I didn’t see it," you said. "Didn’t see what you want."

Law leaned against the counter, silent.

"You want someone who stays," you continued, stepping closer. "You want to let someone in. But you don’t know how. And you’re terrified that if you try, you’ll break them. That I’ll break."

His jaw clenched but you kept going. "I’m not afraid of you, Law. I’m afraid of how much I want to reach for you."

His head lifted, eyes sharp. "Don’t," he said firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because I’m already thinking about what I’d do to keep you."

The confession cracked the silence like thunder. He stepped closer, finally, hand raised, not touching, just hovering near your face.

"I’ve spent years pushing people away because it was easier. Cleaner. You saw what I wanted… and now I can’t stop imagining it."

"Then take it," you whispered. "Just don’t lie to yourself anymore."

And for the first time, he touched you willingly.

No vision came.

Because you didn’t need to see his desire anymore.

Zoro

Zoro causes your jealousy to flare more than even he knows because though he may shrug off most of his admirers, his tendency to ignore them rather than straight up denying them can be frustrating.

Some of them get far too touchy and given how your relationship is spoken more in moments of quiet comfort rather than loud declarations, many don’t even realise that he’s with you. This can become quite tiresome when some even assume that you’re similar to them and see you as some kind of competition.

When they get you very on edge, grab him and pull him closer to you, an action that he’ll fall into on instinct alone. He comes into your space easily with eyes only for you and an interested smirk on his face. If the only person around to see is an annoying follower, he has no problem with your distraction.

If you admit to your jealousy later, he’ll be very confused. What do you have to worry about? You know that he is yours. It doesn’t matter how many fools throw themselves at his feet, he’ll never look for anybody else. He reassures you but mentions if this is how you react when jealous, he rather likes it. You slap his arm for the implication.

Sanji

Jealousy will not be an uncommon foe of yours when you’re with Sanji. Honeyed words fall from his tongue constantly, even if his true love is reserved only for you. Most ignore his advances but there are those odd few who find him enigmatic.

Most of those are woman he’s not actively charming and that makes it all the worse because it means they’ve seen glimpses of your Sanji, not the façade he puts up, and they will be quite stubborn. They take his loving words to you as being the same as the ones he shares with others and won’t think you’re anything special.

Drag him in by his tie and stick your tongue in his mouth to completely turn his brain off and make it very clear that you’re not putting up with anybody else trying to move closer to him. He genuinely won’t know what to do but he has never been one to deny you anything that you want even if it makes others uncomfortable.

He will realise your jealousy only days later when he feels the same emotion and will undeniably apologise to you out of the blue quite loudly. If you’ve already forgotten about the incident, don’t worry too much about it, he will apologise regardless and promise to try harder not to make you feel such a ‘horrible’ emotion in the future.

Shanks

There is no denying that you will face jealousy with Shanks, almost every time you dock at an island and the crew traipses through the town. He’s too charismatic for his own good and he draws every interested eye to himself.

While it’s good for free drinks and free meals, it’s the worst for your jealousy that will only grow worse the longer you remain in one place. Anybody who looks hard enough can see that he’s yours (after all, his gaze never strays from you for long) but some are pointedly blind when they want to be.

Eventually, you always grow tired of the flirtatious remarks aimed to him and will perch yourself in the most undeniable seat in the building, his lap. The crew will laugh at your obvious claim every time and he will chuckle too; a hand wrapped tightly around your waist and a kiss pressed to your throat.

Of course, he knows you’re jealous. He’s no fool when it comes to anything, let alone you, the person he pays the most attention to. He will tease you about it when you’re next in his quarters, asking if you really need to worry when you stay here. The answer is always no but you’ll still envy others when they get to close. He is yours, after all.

Lucci

Jealousy, the kind you feel toward others not toward birds who get more matching clothing than you, is rather uncommon when you’re with Lucci. He simply puts forward a far too intimidating front for others to dare approach.

Those who are persistent enough won’t even be aptly awarded for it as his tendency to ignore others in public is quite strong. You can sometimes be included in this if he’s working and that tends to give others the wrong idea. They don’t see the way he lingers a step closer to you than he needs to.

You have to choose your timing when you prove your point otherwise it won’t work. Wait until he’s got nothing important to do and make sure there’s nobody highly ranked around and you’ll get away with pressing into his chest, whispering promises that make him hum in appreciation.

He recognised your jealousy immediately but he will never acknowledge it to you unless you mention it first. He tells you that you’re being foolish for thinking that he would ever show an interest in another but if it genuinely upset you (more than simple annoyance) you may find his words to others grow sharper and more dismissive the next day.

Kaku

It’s surprisingly easy to get jealous when you’re with Kaku – especially if you’re doing anything that requires you to be undercover. He’s too smooth with his words and people often trip over themselves for him.

Despite this, he isn’t shy of informing them that he’s happily taken if they’re blunt enough to flirt directly with him, but some don’t see that as a dissuasion even on the rare job where your relationship can be flaunted. They see you as a simple hurdle in the road and that is never appreciated.

If you turn your jealousy into physical affection, he is never going to turn you away and might even indulge you in it. He will gladly call you by the same saccharine nicknames you toss to him and may even make pointedly loud dirty promises in your ear when his suitors are nearby. They’ll get the hint then.

He won’t mention your jealousy unless you bring it up and he’ll reassure you that it hardly bothers him. If anything, it flatters him that you so clearly don’t enjoy others trying to take his attention from you. He’s always happy to remind you that his care won’t ever stray.