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still caring about internet friends you lost touch with years ago is so embarrassing. yeah i had a deam we met up irl recently. the last time we spoke was maybe 7-8 years ago. i still wear the laces we randomly decided was a sign of our friendship. i dont know what any of your socials are or if youre even active on any. sometimes i see someones art resemble yours and i wonder for hours. do you still go by that name you chose? whenever i see it i wonder if its you. we couldve passed each other in this vastness a thousand times and not have a clue.
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nanami’s human girlfriend, with no knowledge of the sorcerer world, who tightens his tie before he goes on ‘business trips’.
nanami’s girlfriend who leaves little notes in his suit pockets to remind him that he’s loved
nanami’s girlfriend who makes him his favorite foods even when he insists its not necessary.
nanami’s girlfriend who gets showered in kisses the moment he gets home, until he’s breathless and needy, until she’s nothing but giggles-
nanami’s girlfriend who doesn’t understand why he’s been gone for so long… why his phone goes directly to voicemail.
nanami’s girlfriend who doesn’t know what happened in Shibuya, so she holds out hope that tomorrow will be the day he comes through the door with open arms-
she pictures him on a beach somewhere in the arms of another, his hand on the small of this stranger’s back. just like how he used to hold her.
nanami’s ex-girlfriend who perks up whenever she sees a blonde head in the distance.
nanami’s ex-girlfriend who lays awake at night in the bedroom they used to share and begs -audibly begs- a force unknown in some sort of a twisted prayer for an answer.
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Word count: 3 K
Tags: smut, MDNI, jealousy, toxic relationship?, former lovers, dirty talk, rough sex, spanking, biting, hair pulling
A/N: SO. I guess I'm a One Piece girlie now. It is what it is. This is the first time I'm writing a character I haven't studied as obsessively as my usual suspects, but here we are.
In my head, this reader is the same one as in Live to serve, she doesn't have to be though and this fic works perfectly fine on its own. Just know she's getting some serious Worst-Generation-dick.
Law's stomach turns when he sees the jolly roger wafting in the wind, the unmistakable straw-hat-skull grinning at him from across the ocean. He knew the day would probably come, now that it's here he doesn't feel like he's prepared for it. Or that he'd ever be ready to face you again after you decided to join Luffy's crew.
He's on edge all day, constantly scanning the periphery to see if he catches a glance of you, he knows he's being unreasonably harsh with his crew, but he just can't help it. And when he sees Usopp and Franky sitting outside of the tavern his crew chose to spend the evening at, he knows the moment he would have loved to avoid is finally upon him.
Most of his crew are already inside when he slowly pushes the creaky door open, sitting at a table near the entrance. He doesn't really look at them as he sinks down in an empty chair next to Bepo, his gaze is wandering over all the other patrons, quickly finding the loud table further in with the small reindeer and green-haired swordsman sitting at it. His jaw tightens.
Right next to Zoro, back turned to him, there you are. Leaning over the table, talking to your friends, and – of course – a hand, belonging to the Straw Hats’ pervert cook, wandering over your ass. Law freezes, knowing this is the better option instead of getting up to punch Black Leg Sanji in the face. He stares at you without blinking, and, as if you felt it, you turn around.
He notices how the cook's hand travels up your stomach, pulling you even closer into him, pilfering fingers grazing that soft, beautiful skin of yours as if he owned you. It makes his blood boil. Sanji’s not supposed to be touching you like this. Nobody is. It annoys him.
All air leaves his body when your gaze locks with him. He can see your eyes going wide, that gorgeous smile of yours spreading over your face as you recognize him. You cock your head in that way that makes him want to bite your neck, and you wave. Law looks at you for a second longer, then turns the other way, pretending to join the conversation that's been happening on the other side of him.
A couple of hours later, the evening is becoming livelier by the minute. People are eating, drinking, having fun, except for Law who's not only been miserable but also doing a terrible job hiding it. His crewmates know not to take his monosyllabic demeanor personally, and he's thankful for that. He becomes even more annoyed when you start making your way over to the Heart Pirates' table, first to make conversation with Penguin and Shachi, but then, even though he tries to ignore you away, he feels your hand between his shoulder blades.
“Law.”
Your voice is as sweet as he remembers it, and hearing you say his name stirs something deep inside him. He doesn't like it. Doesn't like the power you apparently still hold over him. When he responds by greeting you with yours, the sound makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It's been a while since he's said it out loud.
He turns to look at you, and you're so much prettier up this close. A tidal wave of memories crashes down over him, he can see the scenes playing out before his inner eye. How lost and vulnerable you looked when you first met on Sabaody, how he and the crew took you in, nursed you back to health. How he had quickly become intoxicated with you, your brilliant mind, your delectable taste, how he had almost forgotten about his dreams and responsibilities because he was so wrapped up in you. And then, of course, how you had mutually decided you couldn't be together anymore. For the sake of his destiny. For the sake of his crew. How you left because you knew you'd destroy each other if you stayed close.
He had heard that you had become a member of the straw hats after that. He just didn't want to believe it. But now, with you staring straight into his soul again after all this time, he had no other choice. “Great,” he answers through gritted teeth as you ask him how he's doing. He doesn't reciprocate. He's not sure he wants to hear how great life is on the Thousand Sunny. He had thought he had moved on, but apparently, he was wrong. Seeing you like this, unbothered and being touched in such an intimate way by another man had made a green-eyed monster awaken in his chest.
“Walk with me,” you say, and for a second, he just wants to tell you off. He doesn't need this. Doesn't need you. And still, he gets up from his chair, wordlessly, moves to step outside the crowded tavern. He can feel the eyes of his crew mates burn holes into the back of his head. He doesn't care.
The early evening air is cool and refreshing. The first couple of stars start showing themselves, a pleasant breeze rustles through the nearby trees. Your shoulder brushes against his arm as you walk past him. You act like it doesn't mean anything. But he knows it does.
You set a quick pace, don't look back to see if he's following you. You probably know that he doesn't have it in him not to follow. How very rude of you. With a couple of long strides, he catches up to you. And then the two of you walk. In silence.
You pass restaurants, shops about to close, then houses with people sitting in front of them, enjoying the weather and each other's company. When the road starts winding up a hill, the housing becomes more scarce. The paved road turns into gravel for a while, and when you stroll past a farm the gravel turns into rocks.
And then, just like that, maybe because the hill is getting steeper, or maybe because you just want to see what it does to him, a small huff leaves you. Nothing indecent per se, but it immediately sends him back to all the times he took your breath away, when you moaned under him. It makes him freeze. He looks at you, and, when you stop in your tracks as well, you look back at him. For a beat, you just stare at each other, both ready to pounce, static crackling in the air between you.
“Come on, Law. This is stupid. You can still ta—”
Law grabs your hand. And then yanks you along in the direction of the open shed a couple of feet away. You stumble inside, him still tugging you along, catching yourself as he throws the door shut behind you. He plants himself in front of you, towering over your smaller form. The way you're looking up at him makes the predator inside him roar.
“What do you want?”
You look surprised when the question bursts out of him. And then, beneath the surprise, appears that cheekiness. The confidence, the preeminence he fell in love with all that time ago. He knows exactly what you want. And he's going to give it to you. Because he wants it every bit as much.
“Law, I—”
“Tell me.” He feels like his body moves on his own when he steps even closer to you, crowding you against a beam that's conveniently right behind your back. His hand shoots up, gripping your upper arm. Pulling you close to him as his thumb tentatively strokes over your skin.
You chuckle. Look up at him with those big doe eyes, teeth grazing your lower lip as you do that thing with your head again. Making yourself vulnerable in front of him so he only needs to lean in and take a bite. He can already feel his pants getting tighter.
“Make me.”
Law's mouth crashes into yours without any further warning. The hand that's not on your arm shoots to the back of your neck, tangling in your hair as he pulls you in to devour you. He doesn't wonder if he might have misread the situation. He can feel you smiling into his open mouth even though he's almost gnawing your face off, and you're kissing him back every bit as fervently as he's kissing you.
With sloppy kisses, he starts trailing over your jaw, down to your neck, to that spot where your scent is the most vivid. He bites down on it, making you squeal. You resist for a second, then let yourself go soft in his embrace again. Moan at him sucking his mark into your skin.
“Does he satisfy you?” Law pushes you back into the beam, dust trickles down as it creaks. Your faces are only inches apart, but he can see your lips are already red and puffy from that violent display of lust just seconds ago, from his beard scratching all over your face. Your breath hitches as he smoothly slips a hand under your shirt, finds your nipple with practiced ease, twists it until you gasp.
“Who?”
“Don't play dumb. The cook, does he satisfy you?”
“He's a great chef. I never go hungry.”
Law chuckles. He's missed this banter with you. He liked how you always kept his mind sharp.
“You know that's not what I mean.”
With the hand that's not rolling your nipple between thumb and index, he pulls your shirt down, lowers his head to suck on the other bud. Takes it between his teeth. Tiptoeing just on that line between pleasure and pain. You moan, having an increasingly hard time forming coherent sentences, but you're still not giving up.
“Then what do you mean?”
He lets you slip free with a wet plop, straightens up to look you deep in the eyes. Then he goes back to kissing your jaw with so much ardor you have to turn your head to the side, and he whispers in your ear.
“Come on. It's obvious that you're fucking. The way he had his hands all over you? You don't let people do that if you're not getting something out of it.”
“Oh, you noticed that, huh?” Law smirks at how weak your voice suddenly sounds. Must be all the making out, or him tweaking your nipple, or maybe it's his thigh that he's firmly pressing between your legs.
“‘Course I did. So tell me. Is he any good?”
Law bites your neck again, splays his fingers under your shirt. Gets a proper feel of all of the soft flesh of your breast.
“...the best.”
He pauses, then huffs.
“The best?”
You nod.
“He's so good to me, you don't even know half of the sounds he coaxes out of me.”
Law leans back. Looks at you and your smug, pretty face. Then, without a warning, he lifts you up with one arm, shambles a sturdy wooden crate that's a couple of feet away to the place you were just standing in, puts you back down on it. He swirls you around a little faster than he meant to, almost making you lose balance, but you catch yourself with your hands on the beam. Ass sticking out. Perfect.
“Hm. So how does he do that?”
Law kicks your legs apart with his knee. Then he yanks your skirt and panties down. He could have just lifted the skirt up, pulled your underwear aside. He likes it better like this. You eagerly kick the pieces of fabric away, position yourself arching your back at him.
“Well, first of all, he takes his time.”
He decides to reward your sass with a good old spanking. You whine as his broad hand connects with your skin.
“I have a ship to run, time is a luxury I can't afford.”
He smacks you again, then runs his hand over your ass. Squeezes, not wasting any time before he finds your wetness. Unceremoniously, he pushes two fingers in. And he's happy to notice that you're way wetter than you'd ever admit.
“He'll make me come before even thinking about getting his cock out.” Your breathing is starting to become more ragged, you clench around his fingers as Law scissors you open with surgical precision. He adds a third finger. It'll make it easier for you to take his cock if you're nice and open already.
“He's all selfless, huh? Only thinks about your pleasure?”
“You have no idea.”
His fingers make a filthy squelching sound as he pulls them out, he spreads your slick all over your entrance. Then he unbuckles his belt, lets his pants drop to the floor as his achingly hard cock springs free. He shakes his head at your words. He absolutely does care about your pleasure. But Law's not trying to spoil you. He wants to ruin you.
“Tell me what he does to you,” he says as he teases the throbbing head of his cock along your slit.
“He always starts by eating me out. Gets his face all up in my pussy, I sometimes worry he'll suffocate from how thoroughly he eats me out. He does this thing where he sucks—”
Your voice falters when his hand smacks down on your ass again, a low, pained moan almost getting stuck in your throat.
“You were saying?”
“Nevermind.”
He laughs, guides his tip through your folds, enjoying how you're pushing your ass in his direction and him holding the power to hold off on finally giving you what you're too proud to say.
“Come on. Don't get shy now. What else does he do?” Another sharp slap on your ass, he can slowly start seeing the imprint his hand is leaving. You mewl in pleasure.
“He… he makes sure he gives every inch of my body the same amount of attention. He'll kiss me. Tell me how beautiful I am. Sanji doesn't fuck. He makes love.”
“Mh. Is that how you like it now?” He lines himself up to you, but recoils as you desperately try to push yourself down on him. “Slow and gentle?”
He runs his hands over your hips, feeling the goosebumps his fingers cause to appear and then, with one deep, hard thrust, sinks into you.
“Mh-hm.” Your head drops forward, but you keep your back arched. You're already a mess and he hasn't even really get started yet. “It's just so nice to get… pampered… like that.”
You make a point out of finishing the sentence, even though you're being rocked into the beam so hard with every single one of his thrusts that all air leaves your lungs.
“Oh yeah? And is that why you're dripping all over my cock while I'm fucking you against the wall in a goddamn barn?”
The sound you make is somewhere on the whiny side between a moan and a laugh, and the quick and dirty rhythm he set falters big time as he feels you clenching down on him with your pussy.
“You don't like it gentle.”
“But I do.”
You twitch around him.
“You like to get railed. Properly.”
He watches, mesmerized, as his cock keeps disappearing inside you, coming back out glistening from your juices.
“I like it when you rail me.”
Law groans. There's nothing else he can say to that, he's already about to burst, so he just drills into you with the urgency you've told him you liked so many times. He knows he's not going to last very long today, but that's okay. You're close, too. He can feel your heart working overtime, and he knows exactly how to interpret those tiny muscle spasms ripping through you that keep continuously increasing in frequency.
There's just one more thing he needs from you. His voice is strained when he says your name, and for a second he worries it's come out softer than he meant to. Not that you'd judge him for it. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulls just enough so you have to turn your head to look at him.
“And tell me, does he make you scream his name?”
You smile. Let your eyes flutter shut as you blissfully sigh at the ecstasy he's making you feel.
“He doesn't. He makes me moan it.”
“Thought so.”
He lets go of your hair, reaches over to your mouth. You gladly part your lips, suck on the two digits he offers you. He pulls them from your mouth when they're coated in spit, then reaches down between your legs to start rubbing circles around your clit.
“Fuck…”
You're so sensitive already, he barely has to do anything other than keeping his movements steady.
“Come on. Do it.”
Still, he speeds up. Pulls you into him with the one hand that remains on your hips, buries himself to the hilt over and over again.
“F— I'm gonna…”
He bends forward, whispers in your ear.
“Do it.”
The reaction is immediate. You cry out, thighs quivering, breath stuttering as the orgasm rips through you.
“Fuck. Yes. Law. Please, I need you so bad—”
He smiles. Finally.
“There we go.”
He closes his eyes, thrusting steadily to let you ride out your high for as long as he can before your pussy squeezing around his length becomes unbearable and he allows himself to fall as well.
His hips stutter as he comes deep inside you, holds you still, makes you take all of his release. He only moves when your legs actually give in, steadies you even though he feels like lying down himself. He cleans you up best as he can using your discarded panties. You’re probably going to have to throw them out. He didn't like that pair anyway.
When you're decent again, Law holds you at an arm's length, looks you up and down. Checks every inch of your body for bruises, any sign of something that might have made you uncomfortable. Proudly traces a thumb over the bite marks on your neck. You're gonna have to wear your hair differently to hide them. Or put on a scarf. Whatever, not his problem. You knew what you were bargaining for.
He cups your cheek, pulls you in for a last kiss. “You're beautiful.”
You smile into his lips. “Shut up, Law.”
For a brief second, he considers telling you that he loves you. But he knows that it wouldn't change a thing. Both of you already got what you needed. To let that old flame that burned so brightly consume you once again. Just for a moment.
