Vinsmoke Sanji

It was in the evening — he was prepping the ingredients for tomorrow’s breakfast when you trudged inside. He didn’t glance or look, just from the foot steps alone; he knew his pretty girl had come in.

“I’ll be right there beautiful, just need to prep these—”

You take him in a hug from behind. Face pressing into his spine.

His chopping, halts.

Blinking, eyes going wide.

“Er—”

You nudge your face into his back and he flinches, his back arching when you press yourself even deeper.

A shiver running down his shoulders—a pleasant one.

“H-hey, what’s with the sudden attention—?”

“Shhh.” You mumble into his shirt, he smells good. Like cologne, like those fancy cigarettes he so likes and cooking wine. A bit sweet, almost. You want more of it, more of him.

“Just enjoy this moment whilst you still can, Sanji.”

He drops his chopping knife. Prepping forgotten.

He turns, however rigid, and faces you.

You don’t let go of him no, you immediately press your face back into him, into his chest.

Arms wrought around his waist.

Sanji leans back against the counter, one hand going to the small of your back, and the other to take a quick smoke before plucking out his cigar. Jaw going up so not to blow smoke in your face.

Damn. Sorry Luffy but he has to admit it. He could die right here, right now, and be the happiest man alive.

He looks down to you “Why are you spoiling me today? Did you like the parfait that much? I’ll make some more if you want, if it means I'll get more of this.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” you nuzzle into his chest, smiling. “I just missed you. That’s all. Promise.”

And he chuckles at that.

Locking you in an embrace, hands on the small of your back. Trying to breathe as slow as possible as he leans his cheek against your hair.

“Don’t hesitate missing me more often.”

Smoker

(note: opla smoker... i'm not over him, not anytime soon)

Reports regarding the recent incidents at the harbour has been delivered — and that’s what he was over seeing, back leaned against his chair, legs tossed up his office table and on his third cigar of the hour.

And when you peeked inside, you’ll earn yourself a look over his report papers. And earning even an accusing brow when he sees the little mischievous smile on your face.

“Whatever gotten you giddy — better not force me to scold you.” he says as you tiptoe forward, hands behind your back as you come close. And when he returns his glance to his reports once again—that’s when you entrap him in an embrace.

Your nose nestling to his neck. Breath hot on his throat.

He freezes. Blinks twice. Before digging his molars into his cigar and giving you a hard glance.

“Hey, doll, is everything as it should—”

You withdraw. Cupping his stupidly handsome face, before leaning in, kissing him on the cheek. His nose. His temple. His chin and jaw and everywhere else. Lipstick marks all over his face. He’s bashed pink.

“You’re so handsome, I want to eat you.”

“… right—” and before he can continue, you manoeuvre into his lap and bury your face into his neck.

A proud, pleasant, victorious smile appears on your face when you hear him drop the reports, drill down his cigar and widen his knees to make space for your seat.

You resist calling him a good boy.

His larger palm goes to the small of your back, just resting there before taking hold of your jaw, grip firm as he makes you look at him.

“What’s with all the attention today? Are you well?” he says, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb — all business and broody and you snort. Not taking him seriously with all those lipstick marks across his face. “Just shut up and enjoy this moment before it passes.” That’s all you say before you bury into his chest again.

And he leans back, heart beating a little too fast. A little too hard.

And you know what?

Sure.

He’ll take it.

Whatever his pretty girl says.

Dracule Mihawk

He was cooking, chopping up vegetables with such precision and focus you almost think he’s going on a limb, and not a carrot. That’s when you trudge inside the kitchen, and he hears you. Not withdrawing his gaze from the cutting board, not once.

“Dinner won’t be ready before eight, and no, you won’t get a test bite this time.” He says, his knife not stopping — not until he feels your hand on his shoulder blade.

At that; he halts. Not blinking.

You slide your hands up his back, feeling how his toned muscles underneath his ivory shirt flexes beneath your fingers. His heart stutters, just a little before turning to face you.

You have mischief spelled in your eyes, a smile all too playful and giggling.

He tilts his jaw and gives you a brow. “Is everything well?” He says as you catch his hands in yours. Interlacing your fingers.

You come closer, and he presses himself against the counter at your sudden boldness.

“Dear?” You say, leaning in, cheeks all flushed and a corner of his lip jerks. Frowning.

You’re beautiful. And it’s having its effect on him.

His hands reaches out to your face, removing a lock of hair so to see you clearly. “Hm?”

You bring his hands close to your collarbones, still holding them, as you tiptoe, “Kiss me.” You say before closing your eyes and pout your lips.

Dracule Mihawk doesn’t get flustered or bashful, no. Absolutely not. But he does part his lips, eye twitch (just a little) as you keep tiptoeing up. His head short-circuits and when he’s silent for just a second too long, do you open your eyes, scowling and withdrawing.

“Whatever. You lost your moment, buddy.” You wave him off, turning on your heel but just before you get the chance to even take one step further—does he grab you from behind.

Hand on your shoulder and an arm slung across your collarbones.

He pulls you into his chest, feel his warmth radiate into your spine, and he takes a hold on your jaw. Forcing you to meet his lips.

He kisses you, and it’s not tender—but bruising. And when he parts, you’re the one who’s all flustered. A satisfied smirk makes it to his cold mouth, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb.

“Clingy today, aren’t you? What’s with the change of heart.”

You turn to face him, hands going to his shoulder blades as you bring him into an embrace. And he let’s you. Holding you back.

You press your face into his chest.

“Missed you, that’s why.” You nustle against him, “I missed you so much.”

He blinks. Sharp eyes narrowing — and somehow softening. “I see.”

And he brings you closer by the small of your back, placing his chin on top of your hair.

He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind if you missed him a little more often.

Portgas D. Ace

Ace was polishing the beads to his necklace, sitting at the edge of his bed when you stepped inside. He spots you, and an immediate grin comes into face as he puts his necklace back on and flexing it at you. “Babe, look, they’re glistening aren’t they—?”

Your steps are hard, fast—plunging as you throw him into an embrace.

He catches you, leaning back against the bed. Completely motionless and tense as he feels you rubbing your face in his neck. Hands tugging onto his back. And then he twitches when he feels you kissing him there. Pecking him. Nibbling him and he flinches.

“Er, babe, I—uh—” What the hell is going on?

You look up to him, your face sly and he goes pink.

You’re so pretty. Too pretty.

His heart is bulging out of his chest as he grabs hold of your shoulders.

“Did something happen? You’re being quite attentive today.”

You tilt your head, deciding to play with him a bit.

Your hands travel from his back, down to his shoulders and tugging onto his collar. Pulling him forward. Just a little.

“My boyfriend is so handsome.” You say, one palm going to where his heart sits. Its beating, hard and fast. You resist not smirking when glancing back to him, “How could I not miss his touch, hm? Tell me that, Ace.” You tug his collar again, grinning and Ace is malfunctioning.

What the… wow. Okay. You know what. He’s not complaining.

But god, he doesn’t know what to say to your sudden boldness.

He just stares like an idiot.

“Er.”

You scowl, “Here I am, giving you my undivided attention and all you say to me is… ‘er’!?”

“No what—I mean, I should, I—?”

You press your face back into his chest. He’s so warm. He smells so good. You want more of him, so you tug him closer, shushing him. “Shut up and enjoy this moment whilst you still can.” You hum, nestling close to his chest.

And you feel him embracing you back. Pressing his cheek against your hair line.

“Yes. Of course. Anything my pretty girl says.”

And he means it, even when his face is completely red, and his heart thumping out his ribs.

Anything you want—he’ll take it.

And when his most lonesome hours comes yet again, he’ll think of you and this moment again and again.

Red-hair Shanks

Shanks wakes up alone on deck with the worst hang over of his life. Slouched over a table. Damn. How much did he drink last night? He can’t remember jack-shit, anyways — he reaches for the nearest mug, still half-full, and zero knowledge if it belongs to him or not, but he chugs down the drink anyways.

“Phew,” He swipes his chin, that’s better.

He hears the footsteps of a certain beauty inching close and he looks up.

Blanket over your shoulders. He puts on that charismatic, toothy smile of his.

“Hello gorgeous, mind giving me some attention this lovely morning—” And before he gets to finish, you lean in, placing the blanket over his shoulders. Cheek pressed into his red, red hair.

Either he’s dreaming or really freaking drunk right now — but are you… are you actually giving in and offering affection? You?

Wow. He loves this dream.

He slings his arm over your shoulder, hesitating before actually pulling you in.

“Shanks.” You say, voice soft and he tenses. “You need a bath.”

You say that and yet you take in the scent of his hair, press your cheek harder against his head.

“Mmnh… I probably should; wanna join me?” He clutches you closer, and you manoeuvre into his lap. Nestling into his throat. Nudging your nose over the crook of his neck, he’s so warm. And with the morning breeze, it feels so pleasantly good, you can’t get enough of it, enough of him.

You feel him sink into your embrace, the blanket bristling heat between you two and you pull away only so you can grab his face and kiss his cheek. One on the left, then on his right, before making it to his brows.

You lean back, and the man is staring you down, taking in your features as the faintest tint of a blush is made on his ears. Heart beating a little bit too hard.

His hand travels down your spine to the small of your back. His fingers lazy, hand loose, before pulling you closer, spreading his knees so you can have more space.

“Spoiling me today aren’t you? What’s the special occasion and can we make it more often?”

You snort. “Savour it. It’s just for this moment, and this moment only.”

You lean back in, pulling him deeper into your embrace and he softens. Scoffing a little. As he sinks into your warmth.

If this a dream — he really doesn’t want to wake up.

Whatever it was, it had been going on for way too long. And the worst part is that you never questioned it.

Until now.

It starts with Sanji.

You’re sitting at the dinner table, picking at your food, when Sanji suddenly snorts “You two should just date already.”

You blink “…What?”

Sanji gestures between you and Luffy “You’re basically a couple anyway.”

You choke on your drink.

Luffy just tilts his head, mid-bite “Huh?”

Sanji raises an eyebrow “Seriously? You guys act like a couple all the time.”

You open your mouth to argue, to deny everything, but then Nami nods “He’s right, you know.”

Usopp grins “Yeah, I mean, have you even seen yourselves?”

Franky chuckles “Super obvious, bro.”

You stare. And then Zoro, of all people, grunts “They’re not wrong.”

Your brain short-circuits. Luffy just blinks at all of them, then turns to you “Wait… are we a couple?”

Your face burns “No!”

The crew groans.

“Oh, come on.”

“You’re in denial.”

“This is painful to watch.”

You glare “We’re just friends!”

Luffy nods “Yeah! Just friends!”

The crew stares. Then Brook smiles “Oh? Then you wouldn’t mind if I asked y/n out on a date?”

Silence.

Then Luffy’s fork snaps in half and the table goes dead quiet.

Luffy grins at Brook, but it’s not his usual happy-go-lucky grin. It’s the grin he wears before picking a fight.

“Yohoho,” Brook laughs nervously “Just kidding.”

Luffy hums, still smiling “Good.”

Your stomach flips because holy shit. That was jealousy. Luffy was jealous... Over you.

The realization haunts you for the rest of the night. Because if Luffy was jealous then what did that mean?

Did he actually—?

No.

No, this is Luffy. He’s just protective. That’s just who he is.

…Right?

You barely sleep, and the next morning you wake up to Luffy in your bed.

Sprawled across your mattress. Arms locked around your waist. Face buried in your shoulder.

Like it’s completely normal.

Like he always does this.

Your heart pounds.

Because—wait!

He does always do this. Every night. Every time you’re on the Sunny, he sneaks into your bed without even asking. And you never questioned it.

Because it was just Luffy.

But now everything feels different.

You slowly try to move, but his grip tightens.

“Mm… don’t go” he mumbles sleepily, lips brushing against your skin.

And that’s it. You lose it.

“LUFFY, WHAT ARE WE?!”

Luffy jerks awake “Huh—?”

“What are we?!” you repeat, flustered as hell.

Luffy rubs his eyes, confused “We’re us.”

You groan “That’s not an answer!”

He tilts his head “What do you mean?”

You gesture wildly “This! Us! The sleeping together! The hand-holding! The food-sharing!”

Luffy suddenly grins “Oh.”

Your heart stops “What do you mean, oh?”

Luffy laughs. And then, without hesitation, he leans in and kisses you.

Soft. Certain.

Like he’s been waiting to do it forever.

You freeze. Your brain short-circuits.

He pulls back, grinning “So? Are we a couple now?”

You gape “…WHAT?!”

Luffy just laughs “Well, we’ve basically been dating this whole time, right?”

Your eye twitches “AND YOU KNEW?!”

Luffy shrugs “I just thought you knew too.”

You sputter, because what the hell. What the actual hell. Luffy just decided you were dating. And you never even noticed.

You flop back onto the bed.

Luffy just grins, tugging you closer “You’re thinking too much” he mumbles, nuzzling against you.

Your heart races.

Your face is burning.

But… maybe the crew was right. Maybe you and Luffy were always meant to be.

Even if you were the last person to realize it.

── .✦ Eustass Kidd:

You’ve always known Kid was the stubborn type. He was gruff, intense, and always had that tough guy act. But lately, you’ve noticed something strange. The more you were around him, the more he didn’t seem to mind you being there. In fact, he almost seemed to expect it.

It starts with those small things, things he doesn’t think twice about. Like when you’re both sitting on the deck, and a gust of wind hits just as you’re about to stand. Before you can catch your balance, Kid’s hand shoots out, steadying you. He doesn’t say anything, but his grip lingers just long enough for you to notice.

“Watch it” he mutters, his usual gruff tone, but there’s something softer behind his eyes. You smile but say nothing. Killer, standing nearby, simply raises an eyebrow before looking away, smirking under his mask.

A few days later, when the crew is at port, you notice Kid keeping an eye on you more than usual. Every time someone gets too close or even bumps into you, his sharp gaze zeroes in, and he doesn’t hesitate to step in between you and whoever’s too close. At one point, a shady pirate from a different crew tries to flirt with you. Before you can even respond, Kid steps forward, pushing the pirate away with a low growl.

“Get lost.”

You blink, surprised at his intensity, but he doesn’t look at you, just at the pirate who’s now backing off.

“Kid, I can handle myself” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Doesn’t mean you should have to” he grumbles under his breath, clearly annoyed by something. He turns away before you can say anything else, muttering about how annoying it is to babysit you. But you know it’s not just that.

The crew knows it too.

Heat lets out a low whistle as he passes by “Damn, Captain, didn’t know you were the protective boyfriend type.”

Kid turns on him with a glare “Shut the hell up.”

Heat just laughs, walking away. You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

Then, it all comes to a head one evening. The crew’s just finished a round of celebrations, the ship rocking gently in the quiet of the night. You’re leaning against the rail, enjoying the peace when you feel him behind you.

“Can’t sleep?” Kid asks, his voice low as usual.

You turn around, finding him standing there, arms crossed, the moonlight casting a soft glow over his scowling face.

“I could ask you the same thing” you reply.

There’s a quiet moment as you both stand there, not speaking. His eyes never leave yours, and the tension between you both seems to grow with every passing second.

Suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching. Instinctively, you move closer to Kid. You don’t even think about it, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand shifts from where it was casually resting at his side to just hovering near your waist.

The ship creaks, the quiet atmosphere making you both more aware of each other’s presence. He doesn’t speak. Neither do you. His fingers are so close, just barely grazing your side as if to assure himself you’re right there.

The closeness feels… different. Intimate.

You glance up at him “Kid?” you ask softly, your heart beating a little faster.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead, his eyes flicker over your face, and you can see the internal struggle within him. It’s a battle, and for a second, you think he might just ignore it, keep up the stubborn front.

But then, his hand finally rests against your side. His touch isn’t harsh, but gentle. You don’t pull away.

“I don’t know why I keep doing this shit” he admits, his voice low but clear “But when it comes to you… I don’t want to risk something happening.”

You blink, surprised “Risk what?”

His gaze softens, and the gruffness in his tone fades away. He looks straight at you, the usual deflective annoyance replaced with something more vulnerable.

“I don’t want anyone else near you. Not after I saw that idiot trying to hit on you.”

You smile, your heart fluttering in your chest “Kid, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“I know,” he replies quickly, but there’s no hiding the quiet affection in his voice now “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and before you can even respond, something unspoken passes between you both. In a split second, his lips are near yours, and the kiss is soft, almost hesitant, like he’s still not sure if he’s allowed to show this side of himself.

But you kiss him back, your hand gently resting against his chest. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than either of you anticipated, but it feels like the world has paused, like this is the only thing that matters in that moment.

When you pull away, you both stand there in silence, but this time, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable.

And then the moment is completely shattered by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You both snap your heads toward the entrance to the deck, where Killer and Wire are standing, watching with amused expressions.

“So,” Wire says, smirking, “you two finally gonna admit you’re basically married, or should we keep pretending this isn’t happening?”

Your face heats up immediately, but Kid just groans, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Go to hell” he grumbles.

Killer just shakes his head “Too late, Captain. Everyone’s been taking bets on when you’d figure it out.”

You gape “What?”

Wire grins “Yeah. Heat won. He said you’d kiss before the next port. Guess we owe him a round of drinks.”

Kid looks absolutely done. You, on the other hand, can’t help but laugh. Because honestly? It’s not surprising.

You look back up at Kid, who’s still scowling but isn’t pulling away from you. You squeeze his hand briefly before grinning.

“Guess we were the last ones to know, huh?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, but there’s no real annoyance in his expression anymore. Just acceptance. And maybe, just maybe, the start of something real.

── .✦ Red-Haired Shanks:

Being part of the Red Hair Pirates meant living in a constant mess of drinking, laughing, and reckless adventures.

And somehow you ended up being the most responsible one. Which was probably why everyone assumed you and Shanks were together.

The problem?

You weren’t.

But apparently, no one got the memo.

It starts with Yasopp.

You’re in the middle of patching up Shanks’ arm because, once again, he got into a bar fight for fun, when Yasopp smirks at you from across the deck.

“You know,” he says casually, “you’re basically married to him at this point.”

You nearly stab Shanks with the needle.

“What?!”

Shanks, meanwhile, just laughs.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even deny it.

“C’mon,” Yasopp continues, “you take care of him, clean up after him, yell at him when he’s reckless...”

“I yell at all of you.”

“Yeah, but you baby him.”

Shanks grins “It’s true. You do.”

You glare “I do not.”

Shanks just shrugs “If you say so.”

And that should be the end of it. But it’s not.

Because after that the whole crew starts treating you like... ugh.

“Oi, Y/N! Can you grab Shanks another drink?”

“Y/N, tell the captain to stop picking fights with Marines again.”

“Hey, Y/N, Shanks says he wants something spicy, maybe you could help... and it's not about food”

You want to scream.

But Shanks?

Shanks just goes along with it. Smiling. Laughing. Letting everyone assume you’re his.

And the worst part is that you let them, because deep down you don’t hate the idea.

And that’s dangerous.

Then one night, it all clicks.

You’re sitting at a bonfire, surrounded by the crew, listening to them sing and drink and bicker over who can hold their liquor best.

You’re not paying attention until you hear your name.

“So, Captain,” Lucky Roux says, “when’s the wedding?”

You choke on your drink. But before you can argue, Shanks just grins.

“Oh, give it time.”

The crew erupts into laughter.

You just stare at him.

Because... what????

Shanks turns to you, smiling like he didn’t just casually imply he plans on marrying you.

And something in his expression—

Something warm. Something knowing.

It hits you all at once.

The hand-holding. The lingering touches. The way he always pulls you onto his lap when there’s no room to sit.

The way he lets you fuss over him when he gets hurt, the way he only ever listens to you.

The way he looks at you like you’re something precious.

Your heart pounds.

And Shanks just grins against your lips.

“Took you long enough” he murmurs.

And when you pull back, breathless, flustered, you realize that maybe you’ve been his this whole time.

You blink, heart still racing as the weight of his words settles in. The laughter of the crew fades into background noise, the warmth of the bonfire casting flickering shadows over Shanks’ face. He’s watching you, waiting, like he already knows the answer, like he’s known it for years.

And maybe he has.

Maybe he’s been waiting for you to catch up.

Your throat is dry. You open your mouth, but no words come out, just a strangled sound of disbelief.

Shanks chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners “You alright there, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like he hasn’t just upended everything you thought you knew.

Your hands tighten in his shirt, and you can’t tell if it’s to ground yourself or to pull him closer “You...” you swallow, voice quieter now, meant just for him “You should’ve said something...”

He tilts his head, considering “I thought I did. Plenty of times.”

You scowl, smacking his chest lightly, which only makes him laugh “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, I know.” His fingers brush your jaw, featherlight, reverent “I just like seeing you all flustered.”

You groan, but you don’t pull away. And well, that says everything, doesn’t it?

And Shanks knows it too, because his grin softens, something unreadable flickering in his gaze “So,” he murmurs, close enough that his breath tickles your lips, “now that you’ve finally figured it out, what do you plan to do about it?”

The challenge is there, teasing, but there’s something raw beneath it, something real.

You take a breath. Then, before you can overthink it, you grab the front of his coat and pull him in, kissing him again, firmer this time.

The crew erupts in cheers. Someone whistles. Someone else yells about winning a bet.

But all you can focus on is the way Shanks smiles against your lips, like he’s just won something far more important.

And maybe you have too.

── .✦ Charlotte Katakuri:

The first time someone calls you Katakuri’s spouse, you nearly drop your mochi donut.

“Excuse me, what?”

The Big Mom Pirates stare at you like you’re stupid.

“Well, yeah,” Oven says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world “You take care of him, he lets you into his tea time, you’re the only one who sees his face—”

Brûlée smirks “And you always defend him when people talk behind his back.”

Daifuku nods “Might as well be married already.”

You sputter “That doesn’t mean—! We’re not—! He’s just my commander!”

Oven raises an eyebrow “You ever see Katakuri treat anyone else the way he treats you?”

You freeze.

Because... okay.

That’s a good point.

Katakuri isn’t exactly warm with people. He’s respected, feared, distant. A perfectionist. The strongest Sweet Commander.

And yet, with you?

He lets you tease him. Lets you see him.

Lets you in.

Your stomach flips.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

You try to forget about it.

But after that you start noticing things.

The way Katakuri always saves you the best snacks at tea time.

The way he steps in front of you during battles without thinking.

The way he lets you touch him, his arm, his back, his face.

His unguarded moments are always with you.

And suddenly you can’t ignore it.

Neither can the crew.

It all comes to a head one evening.

You’re sitting with Katakuri in his usual spot, tea cooling beside him, the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. He’s eating, as usual, but his guard is down because you’re here.

And then the words slip out.

“…Katakuri.”

He glances at you, chewing “Hm?”

You hesitate. Then screw it.

“Are we… something?”

Katakuri pauses.

Slowly, he sets his cup down. Then he exhales, like he’s been waiting for this.

“You tell me,” he says, voice steady “Would it bother you if we were?”

Your heart pounds. Because no, it wouldn’t.

You swallow “No.”

Katakuri watches you for a long moment. Then, he smirks.

“Then I suppose we are.”

Your brain short-circuits.

“Wait—WHAT?!”

Katakuri chuckles, low and deep “Did you really think I’d let just anyone this close to me?”

You gasp, because hold on. Has he known this whole time?!

Your face burns “You could’ve said something sooner, you jerk!”

Katakuri just leans closer, his presence overwhelming.

“…Would you have been ready to hear it?”

You freeze, because damn it.

He’s right.

── .✦ Dracule Mihawk:

Living on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk isn’t easy, but somehow, you get used to it.

You get used to the silence. The way he watches you over the rim of his wine glass. The way he corrects your sword stance with the barest touch of his fingers.

You get used to the way he does things for you without asking, bringing you an extra plate at meals, fixing your sword when it’s damaged, moving his coat so you don’t sit on the cold stone steps.

It’s just how he is... Or so you think.

Until one day Perona stares at the two of you across the dining table and snorts.

“You guys act like a married couple.”

You choke on your drink. Mihawk just raises an eyebrow.

Perona grins “Oh, come on! You live together, train together, eat together—hell, you even drink out of each other’s cups sometimes!”

You freeze.

Because—wait. When did that start happening?!

You sneak a glance at Mihawk, expecting him to argue.

But instead, he just takes a sip of wine and says, “And?”

Your brain short-circuits.

Because what does he mean, ‘and’?!

Perona cackles “Oh, this is gold.”

Meanwhile, you’re too busy spiraling to notice the small, knowing smirk on Mihawk’s lips.

Because the truth is, he knew all along.

The next few days pass in a strange haze. Every time you’re near Mihawk, you’re hyper-aware of his actions. The way he hands you your sword when it’s too heavy for you to lift properly, the way he adjusts your stance when you’re practicing, even the way he leaves his wine glass half-filled so you can sip it without asking.

You can’t help but start noticing the little things. And it makes your stomach do these strange little flips you can’t quite explain.

You try to convince yourself that you’re just overthinking it. After all, you’ve spent so much time together, working side-by-side, that it’s only natural for him to be a bit… attentive. But you can’t help but feel that there’s more to it than that.

One evening, you’re training in the yard. Mihawk is watching from the porch, as usual, but today there’s something different in the air. Maybe it’s the cool breeze, or the strange feeling of him staring at you.

“Focus” he calls out when you fumble with your sword.

You grit your teeth and refocus, sweat already beading on your forehead. Your movements become sharper, more determined, but you can’t quite shake the feeling that something is… off.

When you finish the routine, Mihawk’s still leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel his gaze. You give him a quick, sideways glance, noticing the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Something wrong?” you ask, trying to sound casual.

His response comes as a slow, deliberate drawl “You still aren’t quite in sync with your sword. I’ve been waiting for you to catch up.”

You feel your face flush, but you push through it “Yeah? Well, I’m not some grandmaster swordsman like you, Mihawk.”

He steps closer, his presence almost overwhelming, but his gaze softens for a moment “You’re getting better. I’m simply making sure you don’t lose track of your progress.”

The softness in his voice catches you off-guard, and for a split second, you feel as if you’re standing on the edge of something, something new.

But you quickly push it aside, shaking it off as just another passing thought. You turn to grab your sword again, determined to change the subject.

“Thanks for the help,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady “But I think I need a break. My arms are sore.”

Mihawk doesn’t respond at first. Instead, he merely watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his tone unusually gentle.

“Are you sure you’re fine? You’ve been training for hours without rest.”

You give him a small, appreciative nod “I’ll be fine. You’re too used to looking out for me, Mihawk.”

He lets out a faint chuckle, but you notice that there’s a strange intensity in his gaze now “I suppose I am.”

Before you can react, you feel something slightly off, a flicker of tension between you two.

It’s subtle, but it’s there. And you feel it in the way he looks at you, the way he almost seems to be waiting for you to say something.

But, just like that, the moment passes. He steps back, motioning for you to take a rest.

“I’ll prepare dinner,” he says quietly, as if nothing had happened “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You blink “You cook?”

“Of course,” he says with a slight, almost invisible smirk “It’s not difficult, and you’ve been working hard all day. You deserve a proper meal.”

You feel your heart race at his words, but you manage to keep it together “Alright, I’ll take you up on that.”

But as Mihawk turns to walk away, you pause.

For just a second, you wonder... has this always been a normal interaction between you two? Or has it grown into something more without you even realizing it?

The unease gnaws at you as you sit down on the steps, watching him disappear into the house.

You’re overthinking it. You’re just friends.

...Right?

Later that evening, you’re sitting across from Mihawk, your meal already finished. The conversation is easy, but there’s still that lingering, unspoken tension hanging in the air.

Finally, Mihawk breaks the silence, his voice low and casual “You’ve been avoiding the subject.”

Your brow furrows in confusion “What subject?”

“The subject of us.”

You choke on your drink, sputtering “What—us?!”

His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a faint glimmer in his eyes “You think I haven’t noticed? You’ve been acting strange around me lately. Ever since Perona made her comment.”

You freeze “I—uh—”

“Let’s stop pretending,” he continues “We’ve been behaving like a couple, whether we admit it or not.”

Your heart starts to race. You open your mouth to deny it, but the words get stuck. Instead, you just stare at him, trying to make sense of what he’s saying.

And that’s when Mihawk leans forward just slightly, his voice dropping lower “I don’t know what you’re feeling, but I do know that I don’t want you to leave.”

The bluntness of his words takes your breath away.

“I never planned to leave” you manage to say, the words barely leaving your lips.

Mihawk gives you a rare, genuine smile, one that’s so small and almost imperceptible that you’re not sure you saw it at all. But something in his eyes shifts.

“Good.”

And just like that, the tension finally breaks.

↳ [ // AUTHOR’S NOTE. ] OPLA 2 has me heated & inspired with luffy in all kinds of subby situations (cuffed & hypnotized & mouth taped & what else, hello?!) and zoro tied or waxed up at every opportunity 😩 they are setting the tone right there! so let’s clock what kind of subs these delicious OP men are, shall we 🗣️ from the goodest boys to the superfreaks. buggy turned out so hot with his kinky high heels and sexy circus makeup i can’t (i’ve joined the clown fetish club?? 😭✊🏼). law also has a crazy painslut segment while ace & koby are the softest for good measure 🥰 now heels aside, pick your fave(s) & enjoy!

masterlist 

ace ] a snuggly soft sub. Courtesy of his devil fruit, which really would have to be called “angel fruit” in his case instead, Ace is the most tactile submissive there is. Even stroking his back in passing makes his brain melt. His hair, legs, shoulders, lips, cheeks: Letting your hand ghost over his cute freckled skin will leave your slightly exhibitionistic lover giddy with goosebumps. And in love. And so yearning. Your hand in his hair is everything to him. It’s not a case of “guy makes every cuddle a sex thing”, though. Ace likes cuddling for cuddles’ sake, because the emotions are a huge relief. The making out and kissing is so unusually frequent, people looking on will think he’s using drugs. Ace is high on your gaze, and barely thinks of anything else but being side by side in bed, spooning (Luffy thinks that’s so adorable when he walks in on you in your sleep. He supports his brother getting all the love). That’s his happy place. Releasing him from the tough, less than gentle world. Ace could make anal sex romantic. Marriage proposal during a fisting sesh, he could pull that off. He jumps with joy when you buy him plushies. You made one for him by hand, he carries it with him 24/7 in a trouser pocket. This dude is just the king of fluff. Ace finds all his wishful thinking in a soft domme, a hard domme wouldn’t match him right. You can pinch him all you pleased, those nipples especially. But roughly handling him would just be awkward and hurt Ace. He’s too sweet and yes, lazy. Petting is like having sex to him. Corny, but, it’s Ace. He enjoys to make love to you in missionary or another intimate position, but the body contact always counts more than the “yay, it goes in and out” part. Regular sex is not crucially urgent to Ace. It’s just a byproduct of huddling up in bed sometimes. Whatever your libido says, he adapts. He could please you every day or do it once a month in comfy silence. If you want to tickle him to get a glimpse of that 1000 Watt-smile or see how well his fingertips can work your clit, Ace can pull off both. One thing is his favorite, though. Being snug, together by a fireplace, mumbling to each other.

buggy ] the most committed pet. With all the ribbons, a time to feed him… and fuck, cause this clown wants it bad. But stylishly. Someone’s fully queening out with you: Buggy is all in with the feminization, dumbification, putting him in collars and you having him make some noises considered strange by others alright. He is the original superfreak. Law pretty much loves himself a sado-domme that torments him with red hot tweezers for breakfast, Luffy is all about the impossible sex positions and self-tie shenanigans, but Buggy… he commits to the bit. Always. A circus makes a performer slip into ludicrous roles, you both love that. Acting out just because! Life is filled with restraint and nonsense, so why not be unrestrained without sense? Buggy as a pet sub is ‘brainless’ in a smart way. And fucked brainless especially. Sounds edgy, ruined makeup style, and it is. Edging you is his favorite when he eats you out with fantasy positions and tricks, fun makeup, cat ears, false lashes, painted nails, platform heels on (he can do cartwheels in those!), just letting his oral freak flag fly. Sit on his face and ruin his eyeshadow, his sexy rouge, and that glimmering cheek highlighter while you’re at it. At this point, his lipstick stains on your clit just turn you on for a second round each time. If the world sucks, start sucking. His sex motto extraordinaire, humping his pillow with two hands of his down his throat. Yep, he can fit that many. Yes, he loves it when you draw lewd pictures of him like this. And if you need him bad, Buggy satisfies you from behind, giving your ass a proper worshipping. Does this guy nut glitter? Lock him in that tiger cage, put him in his lace wear, and bring those whippy whips. His high libido will soon tell. On all fours? Buggy does it best.

koby ] obedient sub. With gorgeous pink ribbons, humiliation kink, soap baths and everything. Being forthcoming and more on the soft domme side, you prepared a lot for your sweetheart, tea cups and big pillows and little treats (or not so little, as sweet stuff can be a luxury on the Grand Line, after all) and a warm fireplace to spend some time in a cozy tavern that’s not exactly close to any busy areas or marines. Koby shyly returns the favor of you setting the mood and running errands to get all of those cute things to create a nice time. With eating you out a lot, lots of sucking and curious tongue moves involved. It feels so good and it just goes on and on for minutes on end: “You taste amazing… Can I do it more?” Fuck, this is the big treat, then, is it. Your clit just experiences heaven with that pliant, malleable and warm tongue doing its loving thing. Slave to love and your scent, your baby licks you up from behind, in missionary, sideways even, even if it’s a bit unorthodox and hard to pull off. No problem though, you’re having fun rolling around in the sheets. Now, hear me out: Koby’s actually the most obsessed with vanilla fucking among all these guys to top it off. Your pussy is in for all that gentle stimulation, those good angles, and those pretty as hell hands really sneak to your most sensitive area again and again, so you both edge for like 30 minutes plus. But the ribbons and the fluffy handcuffs stay on! The sweetest collared sub ever. You absolute love birds, this is relationship goals.

luffy ] a bonafide contortionist. No one’s shocked. You thought he’d be all ‘straight up feederism kink and suck slash squeeze on Mommy’s breasts’ all day’? That would only be one part of the picture. He’s simply the least serious sub of them all unless romantic confessions are concerned, because laughing together is the ultimate bonding experience, although bonding with handcuffs (heh) is kind of attractive on him. Even though... yes... they’re basically useless on him. You could stuff basically anything up his elastic ass and he’d have the time of his life. Experimental subs have nothing on this guy. He can be his own bondage rope, y’all. His pet play skills extend to any possible species. You punish Luffy humorously for his impatience sometimes, spanking and gripping his head between your thighs. Pain excites Luffy, spanks are playful to him. Although his age could or couldn’t play a role in this, he doesn’t take BDSM stuff as seriously as Mihawk or Trafalgar Law would. Impact toys are fascinating to use on him: You can take your frustrations out on a sub that never breaks but bends. Snuggles and aftercare love is his kind of sex, too, it just warms his heart to love you and be loved. Luffy really likes to kiss you a lot after playing. As a puppy, for instance. A sweet pup deserves his hair to be ruffled, and forehead kisses, anything that makes him blush.

law ] the pain slut final boss. This god of chains and fingering truly likes the whole shebang of provocative kink equipment galore. Spikes, harnesses, flogging and perfectly romantic dungeon furniture. Trafalgar is the kinkiest on this list by far, and no one is surprised at all. Nobody can tell him what to do! Except for you, his girl, because that’s how it works. If he walks up with some risky piercings you can place on him or he wants you to pull out some crazy hooks and suspensions and clamps and whips, that’s just another manic (and super sexy) Monday for Law. Temperature play is his favorite as of recently, and a proper anal fixation, but it has to be extreme, like everything he does. Him roleplaying as your sick patient is a staple. His boner for your doctor voice and outfit and all those medical tools you brought stays all night. Law likes to be tortured and sense-deprived, he was made for this. His unrestricted moans will have your pussy in not so literal shambles. Trafalgar Law is so masochistic, he has nothing against you electro-shocking his skinny brains out with the craziest tech machines. Or you waterboarding him into a freeze state that allows you total control over his body, since he’s a Paramecia user. He pines to get beaten up by you, fucked silly, then thrown to the ground. He wants to be exhausted, discarded, deeply humiliated, he wants to know his limit and gets off on being hurt for hours: Especially at the hand of his very attractive dominant whom he lends his life line to. Law always wants to hang there like a bag of sand when you’re done with him. He trusts you. He’d only open up and show you his real boundaries because Law knows you can gauge – and also push – him well. You don’t hesitate, because you know he’s pretty much impossible to destroy and doesn’t want some queasy consideration, and he likes that. You’re able to chill and eat takeout with him for aftercare, and not be intimidated by the intense comedown from all those unreal play scenarios. He’s not sub dropped once. No sub can outdo him, this guy is always ready to get fucked up. Law has no problem being a kink dispenser, you can do whatever the hell you like with him (even suffocating him with hugs, heh).

mihawk ] the immaculate service submissive. As hard and stern as he might seem, Mihawk is actually the most classically submissive on this list. Why? His trademark elegance prevents him from domineering his partner: Wife, ideally, because this man is not commitment-phobic. If you top him he will put a ring on it FAST. Because he knows most people quickly pigeonhole him into this hard dom image and don’t even try to look past his façade. Mihawk cooks gentlemanly, bathes you, massages you with expensive oils, and gives you all you ever wanted. You as his domme will choose his clothing for the night, or day, even. Want him to change his beard grooming or the hair? He’ll do it. He is not a diehard masochist like Law or Sanji, but damn, he’d sacrifice anything for a woman he loves and find great satisfaction in it. Mature kink is about responsibility, and that’s what Dracule does. He ain’t vampiric for no reason. Vampires ask before they come in. And blood-wise, if you get your period, he’s the one who gets the hot wraps and the luxurious teas (!) and the blankets and the herbs to make you feel much better. Fuck, he can’t stand to see you hurt. That’s why he’s not a dom. A pregnancy kink he does have, that’s his only top-like side. In his daytime brooding imaginations, he will slice up any punk who dares to touch his hypothetical pregnant wife… get chopped! Mihawk also fantasizes about helping you go about lactating, post-partum bed times, waning. Then again, that’s also an aspect of his service sub default. If you want kids or not in this chaotic world is up to you. But one thing’s for sure. Mihawk will flood you with cash ‘cause he’s a real pay pig disguised as a twilight sugar daddy.

sanji ] truly versatile. Black leg Sanji? More like sexy leg. He can be a platter-wielding service sub like Mihawk or a groaning pain slut just like Law (he fantasizes about you putting out cigarettes on his whole body…), bend himself around for your own pleasures pretty much like Luffy but without the upper body, or snuggle just like Ace. All of it will get him off, and all of it will thrill you, too. Because what genre of BDSM couldn’t this man present as chic and salacious. You want your feet and neck kissed, he’ll devour this. You want to pull his hair? To the All Blue and back. Sanji is so obsessed with his domme, he would fry himself in a human-sized oil pot if something ever happened to her. He is your human furniture and your latex fashion model and your gimp. Sanji is for the anxious attachment dommes: If you’re afraid he won’t cuddle after sex, this guy will be so glued to you, you’ll never feel lonely again. Sanji selflessly understands that even dominant women want attention, care, listening, intimacy, favors, love, affection, not just female subs. He will never betray your rules in bed, he cleans up toys, he listens to feedback: subs need spines as well. Sanji embodies that. He’s horny with a conscience. As for you, do what you want (unless it’s joining the world government), and Sanji works with that. You can choke-fuck him Trafalgar Law style and admire his hot bod, or comb his hair to tell him how proud you are of him. Cause you are. Sanji really overextends himself with all he does chronically. Sanji carries that shit. He is the most obedient sub on this list by far: You actually have to teach him to contribute and say what HE wants, too. Which, and you really had to coax it out of him, is predictably being fed food by you… it’s too cute. Or is it? Making Vinsmoke Sanji lick some cake cream from your fingers has got to be the biggest turn-on ever invented. Let’s be real, this guy invented worship.

shanks ] unpretentious rope bunny. With a lot of sub drop in the mix: Shanks is not a rough and tumble kind of bed partner. Putting his charisma aside, he’s confident in showing his dome all those sensitive and weak parts of him. And yes, let’s be shallow for a minute: Shanks looks way too good all tied up, handsome muscles on display. A ship offers enough material to work with. He wants to see how you can control his body, fixate him, pin Shanks down, expose his sweetest spots, test his sturdiness, showcase his physical beauty, and never let him go. All while finding the time and space to do this, because rope stuff is not a spontaneous discipline. It’s that psychological element that makes the redhead sub so enamored with the art of knots. If you cinch him in place, neither of you will go anywhere. That constancy and reliance is a huge green flag for Shanks who craves your full attention. All the detail you put into your patterns make him feel loved by seeing the dedicated intent… you look after every tension in the rope, all the cross-sections and angles and the skin. Bondage is knowing your partner. He wants to be studied, in a way. And slathered in ointment after, it’s so invigorating to Shanks. The tunnel vision you get while working on his shibari is so hot to this guy, the spotlight on him is actually wholesome, not just challenging or technical. That’s just beautiful. Shanks really blooms when you tie the knot: Literally. He wants to claim that his wife has him all tied up in his feels. And yes, he does cry sometimes, and you comfort those tears with Shanks in your lap.

sir crocodile ] impact play and switching. The desert is dry, but no one who knows `Mister Zero Vanilla´ intimately is… But let’s start from the beginning. Toys and furniture and all the stuff that leaves an imprint makes Croc a horny young man again. It’s too seductive not to try. A contract is in place, you both wrote down what you want to do. It’s negotiated. And it’s freaky. He underestimated your willingness to pound the shit out of him a bit, but that’s good news: He can finally feel something. Whips and chains to the balls, and a hook (surprise) up his ass to make him clench those teeth? Some frivolous kisses for your pussy lips and legs in between? Let’s go. Obviously you’re not using his hook, but a more blunt toy, although the thought of something pointy is titillating to him. Rather, your idea is to switch and see what he can do with that gold stinger – or Goldfinger, as you joke – when you back yourself up against him. As he stands, he uses the metal to wrap around your neck, holding you in place, giving it to you nice and slow from behind to warm you up like the desert, and then picks up the speed as he smokes and grunts, hurling out the praise for you, the good girl. “What a nice ass, want it spanked?” alternates with clamps on your labia or nipples, made of luxurious materials of course. The pain gets you hot, and he releases quickly. Since Croc likes it hairy, even looking at your exposed lips makes him all hungry. And then you switch again. Tired after cumming, he’s frozen in his office, so you torment him with heavy tailed whips and horrible canes, do we sense a phallic pointy theme here, and shove up an entire arsenal of vibrators in his tight ass. He begs for mercy as part of the script, it’s so hot. In the dead of the night, who would have thought the mighty Sir Crocodile is subject to some insane CBT methods with a batch of wet sand shoved into his mouth so he won’t make a sound? He’s crazy. But it’s a rush to be inside his underwater hideaway. Be careful before he’s gonna wife you up, he is a dedicated man.

smoker ] sensory stuff and vanilla. Few people can imagine him subbing, and that’s his hazy secret. He’s classy about it. “So what” style. But unlike Mihawk, wine is not involved. A woman putting out cigarettes on his body is. Cigars, if she really wants to drive him insane. Come to think of it, nobody is surprised with this at all. His smoke body doesn’t bear the burn marks, he has tons of supply at hand, and hey… Smoker sees no point in doing this on someone else in his busy schedule. That schedule involves getting his wallet drained by you, cause his marine money all blown on burn stuff is getting a bit boring now. Pay pig Smoker? That’s what he works for. Heh. Another idea you had was running ice cubes on him, which not only tingles, but remains the most effective power play of all. Why? Because the water immobilizes him partially, and you can resort to some free use all night. Used sparingly, this can go on for hours. You can ride him in reverse how you like, he won’t kiss and tell. Cigars in mouth, he coughs like a broke stove during groans, you both love that shit. He’s impressively endowed, long and straight, with stamina, a dream for any rider queen who loves to edge her play partner. Smoker, lazy as he is on the couch or bed, lets his sexy abs glisten, and you can mockingly run your hands through his hair. “Oh, somebody can’t move. Guess I’ll deprive you more…” Followed by various forms of orgasm denial, and using him as your personal stripper. Or sex doll. Ripping his clothes off is fun, and Smoker is well-built. And experienced. No bullshit. He’s confident enough to have you fill him up with booze for some heavy makeouts. No sexual stuff, he’s a gentleman, but the teasing can go far when he’s intoxicated. His oral fixation should be, let’s say, apparent without discussion, Smoker can surely fancy some boobs in his naughty mouth if you command him. He’s languidly obedient in a way. If you want to see rug burn on his back, he will lie down, alright. Um, and… upon your request… He also made you very happy on his motorcycle if you know what I mean. Smoker, the king of deep strokes and all the huffing, puffing, lady pleasing.

zoro ] needy lil’ brat. He’ll do what you want, but oh so tease you for it. Zoro could lay there with a spreader bar between his juicy gym legs and he would talk some shit. Or when you ride his thigh. Or when you run ice cubes all over him. Somebody gag this mosshead already! He actually fell asleep during a bondage session once. In his defense, he trained push-ups with Sanji beforehand. They both tried to outdo each other, so Zoro collapsed into a fairy-tale like slumber with you a little later. He was too sweet in his sleep to resent, though you repeated the rope play two days later. Zoro… is for the lenient doms out there, strictness doesn’t work. No, he doesn’t slack off, he can put his back into it. Zoro’s ambitious manner is world famous. But yeah, he shows his cute side as a sub. Don’t you worry. You can nurse him like a service domme sometimes, or a Mommy domme, it’s flexible. He really does like being taken care of, but a full-on little one he is not. It’s more about the looking after someone aspect. He devours Mommy’s hefty food, and lets himself be groped, then stroked, then petted when he’s been a bad boy. You tie his wounds, knead his back. It’s not complete dominance on your part unless you brat tame him. Zoro loves pampering and acts of service too much. The entitled brat learns his sexy lesson with riding crop whips to his muscly butt and thighs, enduring slaps and even a bit of CBT, Zoro’s most high-adrenaline kink interest. Does he own a penis pump? Yes he does. Zoro doesn’t even pretend one bit that he’s not a classy kinkster like Mihawk. Zoro likes his sex stuff real, and visceral, and frequent, and a lil’ bit trashy. If you like cum play and sweat… this is your address.

read it on ao3 

NEW: one piece characters as porn stars hc

end note. tell me your own hcs about them in the comments, i am stoked about this topic and there is just so much to say!! i just imagine law as the freakiest guy ever he is so... and then there’s ace and shanks being all cutie pie about this lmaoo

—His choice of pet names is: "darling", "(my) gem". Does everything he says drip with both luxury and danger? Yes, we wouldn't have it in any other way.

To no one's surprise, Sir Crocodile was smoking in his office. The expensive cigar was soon taken away from his lips, you had taken hold of it. He caught your wrist with his hand gently, not letting you get any further away. ❝Careful, gem… If you take something from me, you’ll have to offer something better.” His smirk was pure, addictive poison, just like his tobacco.

—His choice of pet names is: "sweetheart", "love". He's the definition of warmth and simplicity in one. His words are as sincere as how he presents himself to you.

The crew was partying wildly. The last mission had gone wonderfully well, having retrieved what you were looking for. Shanks had his arm thrown around you, hearty laughter escaped past his lips as you two moved around, a little messily, until he leaned down to whisper something in your ear. ❝Sweetheart, if you keep dancing like that, I’ll have to kick everyone out so I can keep you to myself.❞ He might be joking… Or not. That was for you to judge.

—His choice of pet names is: "(my) star", "pretty thing". It was evident he'd dramatize his affection as if it were a performance on its own. Don't mind it, though.

Once more, Buggy had failed a new trick he was trying to master. A spectacular failure, for sure. But you clapped anyway, motivating his poor attempts further. ❝I knew my star would support me! It’s for you that I shine!❞ He puffed up with clear pride… Then immediately tripped over. You were quick to help him get back up, trying not to laugh.

—His choice of pet names is: "hey, you", "love". The first one was how he called for your attention early on; he's silly like that. Nevertheless, you did make him soften up later on, even though he pretends he's not absolutely head over heels.

You were invading his space, as he liked to call it, sitting on his desk doing nothing specific. Smoker came in soon after, not hesitating in removing his coat and draping it over your shoulders. His excuse? ❝It’s cold, love… Don’t look at me like that. I won’t say it twice.❞ He absolutely did say it again. As long as it may make you smile at him.

—His choice of pet names is: "sweetness", "(my) treasure". If he addresses you with a pet name, be sure it'll always be laced with a possessive undertone, one impossible to ignore.

You two were inside his office, spending some quality time together away from prying eyes. You were sitting on his lap while Doflamingo read reports. One of his hands was comfortably settled on your curves, tracing your waist lazily. ❝Sweetness… Don't squirm. You're distracting me. Unless…❞ He lowered his glasses enough for you to catch a glimpse of his eyes. ❝… That's exactly what you want.❞

—His choice of pet names is: "(my) angel", "little one". His affection is full of heart… Jokes aside, this man is so soft and clumsy at the same time that it's difficult not to swoon for him.

Donquixote Rosinante, aka Corazon, was attempting to light a cigarette, the usual. But he soon set his coat on fire… Again. You rushed to his side, trying to help him put out the fire. ❝Angel, I swear this time wasn’t my fault…❞ He whispered with that lovingly silly smile of his, his arms awkwardly wrapping around you as he laughed at his own clumsiness.

—His choice of pet names is: "Y/n-ya", "adorable idiot". The last one is specifically used for when you make him worry too much, which could be any other day, to be honest.

You walked past his office, finding the lights still on despite the late hours. You couldn't have that happening, not for two nights in a row. You stepped inside, demanding that he rest properly for once. Surprisingly, Trafalgar sighed, set down his scalpel, and met your eyes head-on. ❝Y/n-ya… If you keep looking at me like that, I'll have to actually listen.❞ Cheesy, but it worked. He went to sleep right away, with you by his side, of course.

—His choice of pet names is: "(my) angel", "partner". I must admit, it's beautiful to see him feel at ease with someone enough to let his walls down. He sees you as an angel sent from above, always there for him.

It was late already, late enough for you two to be cooking dinner together. As expected, it was spaghetti. Killer attempted to taste the sauce through his mask and failed miserably. You couldn't contain it and laughed at the look his mask was left in. ❝Fafafa… Don’t laugh, angel.❞ You laughed harder. He joined you, unrestrained.

—His choice of pet names is: "spark", "my favourite disaster". Challenge him, please. That's the way to get into this man's heart. Make him trip over his thoughts, and that smirk of his will never leave his red lips.

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