Kinktober 2024: Day 3

Kinktober 2024: Day 3

WC: 2296

Summary: It's been so long since you've seen Law and you're struggling. So you give him a call hoping he can give you some much needed relief.

A/N: This is the first time I've ever written Law so I hope it's not too out of character.

You groaned as your head hit the pillow, your hair was a mess, the blankets tangled around your legs trapping you as you flailed in an attempt to free yourself. You had been at this for what felt like hours. Trying every position you could think of, moving to different places in the room, but no matter how close you got you couldn’t get there. Your hand was beginning the cramp, the pads of your fingers showing the very early signs of being pruny from your slick. 

You had no idea what it was that you weren’t doing, he could get you to cum in a matter of minutes, yet here you were completely unable to get yourself there. You looked over at the clock on the bedside table, 3:34am. You rolled over, pressing your face into his sweater that you had stolen last time you had seen him, as you groped around in your bedside drawer blindly until you felt the small transponder snail you kept there. Quickly dialing him, you waited in anticipation, knowing he would still be awake but hoping he would pick up.

“It’s late.” His voice was low, gravelly. The same voice he uses to whisper in your ear as he fucks into you, holding you tightly against you. 

“Not like you’re sleeping.” You rolled onto your side so your voice wasn’t muffled as your hand slipped down between his legs, your eyes fluttering closed so you could focus on his voice.

”But why aren’t you?” 

“I couldn’t sleep.” There is a slight whine in your voice as you tease your clit, rubbing your index and middle finger along either side of it. “When will I get to see you?” You heard him sigh.

“Hopefully soon.”

“But when” 

“Did you really call me this late just to ask that?” 

“Partially.” You heard him huff a breath through his nose, knowing there was a smirk across his lips. 

“Oh yeah, then what else did you need?” Even though you hadn’t been together for very long, he could read you like a book, even if he couldn’t see you. 

“I miss you.”

“Is that right?” You nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t see you. 

“I miss you so much.”

“So much you’re called at 3 in the morning just to tell me.” You heard the quiet sound of a book closing, smiling when you realized you had his full attention.

“Uh huh” Slowly you stimulated your clit, rubbing the pads of your middle finger around in such a way that it was hard to stop your hips from bucking. You couldn’t stifle the breathy moan that slipped out when you applied just a bit more pressure. 

“Sounds like you called for another reason.”

“Mmhm” 

“Why didn’t you just say that from the start?” If you listened closely, you would have heard the faintest sound of his belt being undone as he leaned his head against the back of his chair. 

“I’ve been trying all night, b-but I just can’t do it.” Your voice was breathy, and as you ran your free hand over your face to push your bangs out of your eyes you felt a light sheen of sweat beginning to form.

“All night, huh? Why didn’t you call sooner?” 

“It’s embarrassing.” You whined, forcing yourself to swallow a moan that was threatening to slip out.

“Arousal is completely natural, nothing to be embarrassed about.” His hand wrapped around his half hard cock, stroking slowly as he listened to all the little sounds you would make whenever you weren’t speaking. “What were you doing?” 

“I-I’ve been fingering myself for hours.” He let out a heavy breath through his nose, the thought of you laying in bed desperate for him was enough to get his cock fully hard at the mere mention.

“Mhm” He encouraged you to continue. 

“I just can’t get there.” You slipped you fingers down from you clit, gathering your slick before pushing your middle finger inside yourself. 

“What are you doing right now?” 

“I ah I have a finger inside b-but it doesn’t feel as good as yours.” In any other situation, you would rather eat Law’s hat than say any of this out loud, but you had grown so desperate that any part of you that was shy had been silenced.

“Take it out.” You did as he instructed, wiping it on your sheets before waiting for his next instruction. “What are you wearing?” 

“J-just a shirt and underwear.” 

“Which shirt?” As he closed his eyes he wanted to be able to picture you exactly how you were so he could imagine how you would look under him, begging for his fingers. 

“Y-your yellow button up.”

“What?” 

“I took it.” 

“I should have figured you had it.” He tried to keep his voice even, but truthfully the thought of you in his shirt was enough to force him to grip the base of his cock enough to hurt. “Take off your panties, unbutton the shirt, but leave it on.” 

You didn’t respond, immediately pushing the cotton panties off your hips and down your legs before working to unbutton his shirt. “Done.”

“Good. Now, what have you tried?”

“Everything.” You all but whined.

“I highly doubt that.” 

“I just can’t reach that spot inside, feels like my fingers aren’t long enough.” 

“We’re going to ignore that spot, okay?” 

“But it feels so good when you rub against it.”

“I know it does, but there’s better ways for you to get yourself there without me.” You wanted to argue it, but you knew he knew your body better than you did sometimes. “There’s no point in you wasting your entire night trying to get yourself off ineffectively.” God you loved it when he would slip into his more analytical self. “Put two fingers in your mouth.” He said this the same way he would tell someone a diagnosis that had you clenching your thighs together. 

You did exactly what you were told, tasting your own arousal on your fingers as you rubbing your thighs together, moaning slightly around your fingers as you swirl your tongue around the digits like you would his cock. “Take them out and play with your nipple for me.” The line of saliva connecting your fingers to your lip broke as you ran your wet fingers around your nipple. “Do it the same way I do it, take your time, there’s no rush.” 

“I miss your hands.” 

“I know you do, but you have to work with what you have.” His cock was so hard it hurt, the grip he still had around the base finally released as he ran his thumb over the bead of pre cum that had gathered at the tip, smearing it over his head. “How’s it feel?”

“G-good.”

“Now, with your other hand, slowly run it down your body. Take your time.” You couldn’t hold back to moan when you finally felt the tip of your finger make contact with your clit. Law was always very quiet when you had sex, the most you ever got out of him was a the occasional grunt when he was getting close, or a quiet fuck when you had his cock in your mouth, so when you heard a heavy sigh you felt yourself get even more wet, if that was even possible.

“L-Law are you-” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, hoping he would be able to answer your unfinished question. 

“Y-yeah.” A quiet curse left your lips as you picture him, leaning back in his desk chair, fisting his cock as he told you how to touch yourself. “Put your clit between your index and middle finger.” You did as you were told, starting to move them back and forth before he could tell you to. “Don’t go too fast, take your time.” You couldn’t stop the moans from falling from your lips as you slowly sped up, your hips canting forward. “You’re going to wake your whole ship.” he said, laughing slightly to cover the moan that came from the very back of his throat. “Are you ready for more?” He finally asked, having to completely take his hand off his cock as he felt the knot in his stomach begin to fray but not wanting himself to finish before you. 

“Yes” you breathed, taking your fingers away from your clit and running them down along your folds. 

“Are you wet enough?” You couldn’t help but laugh at the question.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more wet in my life.” The sentence made your stomach flutter, admitting something so obscene to him felt wrong but at this point you didn’t care. 

“I wish I could feel it.” He couldn’t stop himself from imagining how well your cunt would take his fingers, watching them become covered in your slick as he pushed them fully inside of you, his tattoos completely engulfed. “Move the transponder closer, I want to hear it.” The hand that had be roughly holding your breast moved to grab the snail that had been sitting on your nightstand, placing it on the bed next to you, low enough that he would be able to hear the sound of your fingers pumping inside of you. “Now, push your middle finger inside.” You did as you were told, immediately curling it upwards as you did so. 

“I can do another.” 

“Then do it.” You pushed your ring finger in next, digging the heel of your palm against your clit as you did so. You bent your knees, bringing your feet up towards your body so you could rut against your hand. 

The sound of your fingers smacking against your wet folds was like music to Law’s ears. His cock was aching, pre cum straining his white shirt where it laid neglected for so long. But he knew the moment he wrapped his hand around himself, his orgasm would crash into him. “F-fuck Law” you called to him, reaching over to grab his sweater that had been laying besides you, bringing the fabric to your face to both cover you in his scent and in an attempt to muffle your needy cries. 

“Are you close?” He thumbed his messy head, bringing the pre cum down his shaft but refusing to stroke himself until he knew you were almost there. 

“Y-yeah finally-y” your words sounded broken and they made his cock throb, his balls feeling heavy enough that part of him thought he might cum untouched. And while the curious part of him was interested to find out if he actually would, the rest of him was begging for his hand. When he wrapped his fist around his cock he couldn’t stop the grunt that slipped from between his clenched teeth. The slapping of your cunt was loud enough he was almost concerned someone on the submarine might here, but he knew he was the only one up at this hour. “Can you t-talk to me, please?” The need in your voice spurred him on, his hand moving quicker as he leaned forward, curving over himself. 

“Are you gonna’ cum, babe?” He rarely ever used pet names, often preferring how your name feels in his mouth over any other name. But he remembered how much you liked being called ‘baby’, knowing it always evoked a long moan from you. 

“Y-yeah p-please I need to cum.” 

“Use your other h-hand to circle your needy little clit.” Despite your arousal-drink brain you were able to just barely follow his instructions. “That’s a good girl.” The sound of your fingers and your moans filled his office as though you were there. His hand was moving at a desperate pace, using his own precum as lube was not the best idea but he was too far gone to change. 

“Do it.” Was all he could get out from between his clenched teeth. The sound of your orgasm throwing him over the edge and into his own crashing climax. 

You knew you likely woke someone up with the volume of your moan. Each moan getting softer as your orgasm tapered off, your fingers slowing as they fucked you through your climax. Your breath was coming in short bursts, your hips lowering and your thighs shaking slightly. “Did you cum?” Your voice was rough, and a small whine left your raw throat as you finally pulled your fingers from your cunt. 

“Yeah, fuck.” You couldn’t help the small laugh at the sound of his gruff voice as he tried to catch his breath. “Do you feel better?” 

“Yeah, I think I can finally fall asleep.” Sleep was beginning to pull at your eyelids, having been evading you for hours. 

“Good, get some rest.” 

“Will you?” You pulled the blanket that had been pushed down to the bottom of your bed over you, rolling onto your side and holding his sweater against you as a makeshift pillow.

“I think so.” His voice was heavy with sleep.

“I’ll get to see you soon, right?” 

“We’re probably a few hundred knots behind you, Strawhat-ya asked us to meet you at the next port to discuss our next move.” 

“And when were you planning on telling me this?” You could hear the smirk on his face.

“Figured you knew.” 

“What part of this entire transponder call made it seem like I knew that, Law?” You tried your best to sound irritated but you knew it was clear you weren’t. 

“Get some sleep, cuz’ when we get to port you won’t be getting any.” 

“I’ll see you soon then.” 

“Goodnight.” You pressed your face into his hoodie as you drifted off to sleep, trying to think of all the ways you would get him back for not sharing such pertinent information with you.

Well Earned Praise - Mihawk x Reader

Art by mugibara

Summary: Mihawk is a man of few words and many gestures. Lucky for him, you understand them all quite well. Lucky for you, he knows when to use those spare few words.

A/N: This is a little celebratory piece for @feral-artistry ! She's made a huge landmark in higher education recently that she's worked her ass off for and deserves all the treats and hype!! I was lucky in getting this one out for it too bless up lol I usually can only get possessed by ideas to flesh them out but being able to get them into actual words in a timely manner??? Near unheard of lol That said, it's only a ficlet but I hope you and anyone reading enjoys!!

Word Count: ~2.1 k

Warnings: gn!reader, straight up fluff, banter, Mihawk being the Most Obvious in his own way, favoritism, Perona and Zoro are there too, you have a place in all their hearts, found family undertone, family dinner with the edgelords, Mihawk being supportive of your accomplishments in a hopefully in character manner lol

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“And what has you so happy?” Mihawk drawls. 

You’ve barely set foot in the kitchen by the time the question leaves him. Your bright mood from your recent accomplishment is undoubtedly buzzing from you and likely tripped off his haki. Or at least you’d write it off as that if you hadn’t been speaking about it coming up the past few weeks.

Despite his prodding tone, you know that’s just his normal voice and not his grumpy one from all your time living at Kuraigana. There’s also a lack of the miniscule brow or eye twitch that usually precedes the grumpy one. Instead his face is its usual stony facade, looking much too brooding in contrast to the apron Perona had complained him into. It lacks any of the color or frills she wished, but you are sure with enough prodding she will one day get one or the other on your dour host. The one thing that truly binds you all together at Kuraigana is an innate persistence (easily gaining the name “stubbornness” when not in your favor). It is a formidable weapon you wield both for and against each other. Usually against, but that ratio is growing more favorable by the day. Luckily its bad run is mostly in bickering and banter, not actual harm.

“I know you’re getting old, but I didn’t know your memory was already going,” you goad, walking to join him at the prep table at the far end of the kitchen.

“I don’t make the effort to remember the chirping of birds,” he responds blandly, disproving his statement by alluding that he listened to your frequent gushing about it to Perona. All the while, he continues chopping vegetables with insane speed and accuracy. It will always amuse you to see the world’s greatest swordsman use those skills to harvest and chop veggies. His choice on which you’re starting to recognize.

“Uhuh,” you replied, obviously incredulous. “I suppose you don’t have much room in that head of yours for anything besides swords play.”

“It’s dangerous to insult the one handling your food you know,” he warns with the barest hint of humor warming his low voice.

“This cook wouldn’t stoop to poisons,” you assure him, “though I will need to watch my back during sparring.”

“If you’ve actually taken to my lessons, you’d know to do that anyway,” Mihawk chastises with narrowed eyes. You chuckle at his predictability - always so prickly if he felt you weren’t taking your crafts seriously.

“We both know I’d be dead if I didn’t,” you point out. The silence, save for the steady thumping of knife on cutting board, is his begrudging agreement. 

That silence quickly turns comfortable; that ease built on a few hundred hours of peaceful companionable silence you’ve shared. Mostly they were filled with quiet sips of wine, rustling pages, crackling logs, and calm music. Your favorite is when the sweet serenade of the night’s bugs leaks in the cracked windows, heralded by a cool breeze playing with the curtains. A few hundred more hours spent in travel and training built quite the familiarity and warmed your heart from simple attraction to true affection for this untouchable man.

That affection only makes you treasure these moments more. Seeing him in an apron performing a homemaker’s duties isn’t only amusing; there’s a twinge of vulnerability to it. This man, who is an embodiment of death collecting its due for most, is comfortable with you seeing such human pieces of himself. He’s connected with you and your housemates enough to let you each have your mark on him in subtle ways. There was proof enough of it in this kitchen - now always well stocked with sake and sweets, the allowance of a few cutesy mugs ready for use, fresh eggs from the chickens he’d gotten for convenience and definitely not because of your love of animals. (You hadn’t broken him on goats yet but you were far from giving up on that one).

Your thoughts are interrupted by him breaking the hypnotizing motion of his knife to back away from the counter.

“I need to stop in the garden,” Mihawk explains. He casts a pointed gaze at you on his exit. “Don’t go in the fridge.”

The moment he’s taken his exit, you disobey the order. More like a poorly veiled hint. The bright lights of the fridge spotlight quite the treat for you. There’s a menagerie of desserts taking up the top shelf, everything from macaroons to tiramisu to cheesecake to fruit tarts. The colorful display almost kept you from noticing the restock of your drawers of charcuterie below. He really spared no expense; rare cured meats and exotic cheeses were huddled around a large supply of all your favorites, a variety of mustards, jams, and preserves in cute little jars tucked neatly to one side. You can’t help how gooey the gesture is making your heart and how that feeling’s definitely still going to be all over your face when he gets back.

Accepting that fate, you don’t even try to hide it when he comes back through the door with fresh herbs in hand. Mihawk goes through the motions of wiping off his boots and making his way back, all nonchalant confidence, until he looks at you and is struck frozen. He stands and holds your loving gaze for a long stretch of breaths. He’s the first to break your eye contact, looking the closest to unsure that you’ve ever seen him. His face would never tell, but his shoulders curl just a bit up and forward before you see him shove them back into their usual sure posture.

You think he’s going to leave the whole thing unacknowledged, as he’s wont to do with your increasingly common Moments. He shatters that thought when he lays a hand on your arm as he passes, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth from his large palm leaves a lasting impression on you. The ravenously yearning part of you - the one you try to keep settled - begins telling you how deliciously warm he must run, how he must be the perfect spot for a nap, how those warm hands would feel easing your muscles, how they would feel-

“Managing to get lost while standing still? Should I worry about that with you too?” Mihawk teases. It’s quite impressive how droll he can be when he lets himself.

“If I say yes, does that mean I’m free of being his human compass?” you joke.

“Only until it’s time to be rid of you both,” he answers easily.

“What?” you ask in mock offense. “No send off party? No tearful goodbyes? And here I thought you were the sentimental type.”

“Obviously,” he agrees, gifting you the first tiny, crooked smile of the night.

Wanting to end on a high note, you let the conversation go and instead focus on trying to find ways to help. It goes poorly. Every task you make for is suddenly already being done by Mihawk, or he’s suddenly blocking you from the means to start. Many an ingredient is intercepted, dish grabbed first, or scraps thrown to trash and compost. The absurd game of keep away it makes is funny to you at first but soon becomes frustrating.

“You’re treating me like an invalid,” you huff.

“I didn’t know you were so fond of labor,” Mihawk drawls. Sly eyes slide your way. “Should I put you back on prepping the new beds?”

“No,” you answer quickly. The new garden spot was chosen for convenient location not ease of creation; the ground was mostly clay and full of rocks with the top carpeted thick with sod and weeds. It would have to be cleared off, rocks dug out, manure and sand and peat moss shoveled in, then all mixed thoroughly to break up the clay. It was grueling work. It was Zoro work.

Mihawk goes back to his cooking with an air of satisfaction. You settle for watching and stealing bites to eat from the food he was making. He pretends to be annoyed. It lets you both play a new game of keep away where you try to sneak and snatch and he tries to swat you away, usually without even taking his eyes off his task. This continues until the meal is nearly done, when he sends you off to your room to “look proper for a nice meal”. You pretend to be offended but he doesn’t buy it.

You don’t want to spend long getting ready, much more set on spending time with the others, but you also didn’t want to let an excuse to dress up go to waste. By the time you’re headed to the usual dining room, you’re layered in expensive fabric with a fresh face and freshly styled hair.

Mihawk is awaiting you at the grand doors, unfortunately lacking that apron. Instead you get him in a flowing shirt, textured in subtle filigree the same deep red as the whole. It is, of course, open to show off his Kogatana and the sun-kissed skin it rests on. As you get closer, you notice his pants are tailored slacks and his boots have been replaced with dress shoes you wouldn’t have even guessed he owned. Not for a lack of class or style, but for a lack of people and occasions he’d deem worthy of the effort. 

You feel almost silly thinking he’s going through all this effort for you but there’s no other explanation. When you stop next to him, you could swear that even his beard is freshly oiled and combed. You’re too lost in your appraisal of him to notice how his own heated eyes are roving over you. You catch them for a brief moment before they fix to your face. To interrupt the loving taunt about to move your tongue, Mihawk holds the door open for you and gestures you inside.

Zoro and Perona are sat at the table behind pristine place settings. They haven’t even noticed the sound of your entrance over their own bickering. Perona always looks dolled up, but there’s something a little extra in the detail of her makeup and not a single hair on her head is out of place. What’s much more surprising than her is that Zoro looks all cleaned up. He’s still in his usual style but not a speck of dirt is on the clothes and his hair looks slightly damp from a recent shower. It’s hard not to laugh at the idea of Mihawk commanding him to bathe like one would a defiant child and Perona having to throw him in the bath like he’s a hissing cat.

Before you move to join them, Mihawk’s hands catch your shoulders. Their capability for gentleness will always amaze you, and this caress to halt you is no exception. His thumbs swipe across your skin a few times, seeming to relish the motion, before he leans forward. There’s a moment where his cheek brushes the crown of your head before his breath floats over your ear and neck, raising goosebumps over your skin. His lips, surprisingly soft, tickle the tip of your ear as he whispers to you. The words strike you and leave you frozen even as he brushes past you towards the table, leaving the scent of spiced cologne in his wake.

Your housemates finally notice you and both send toothy smiles and celebratory cheers your way. You feel almost bad that you have to shake yourself off to match their energy. Once you get close to the table, Zoro is trying to convince you to share his best sake with him while Perona tells you that’s dumb and you should instead focus on looking through the new accessories she’s gotten you. You only laugh as dark fabric and frilly stuffies are shoved your way to intercept the persistent attempts to place an o-choko by your plate. 

Mihawk sighs at the commotion, muttering something about wanting a peaceful dinner for you as he pulls out your chair. His grumbling is undercut by the softness easing the lines from his face. When you meet his eyes as he pushes your chair in, you notice the usually violent amber of them has darkened to flowing honey. His words ring in your head loudly again, causing a loving smile to warm your face. He answers with a brief smile of his own, the smallest curl of his lips and crinkle of his eyes, but it's enough to set your heart racing. Your heart pumps electricity through you, tingling your fingertips and sending his words to spin even faster in your head. Even when your heart calms and is instead made full from loving company, you hold the sound of his voice in your mind.

It’s the first time you’ve heard the words from him, and now that you know their sweetness, you’ll chase that high in all your endeavors.

“I’m proud of you.”

Pet Play: Bartolomeo

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 3,500

Themes: Bartolomeo x f!reader, Straw-Hat reader, mdni, 18+, smut, nsfw, Dom!reader, pet!Barto, praise kink, oral, gendered terms and endearments used.

Notes: first time writing for Barto, and I adore him. Day 5 of my birthday event!

It had been eight agonizing days of traveling with your crew alongside the Barto fanclub. Whichever way you turned, there was another picture of your face thrust into your body, with teary eyes and pens offered for you to sign the image held within by your fans. You appreciated their assistance, and did enjoy the fact that your captain gathered himself a following of devoted individuals, but it had began to overwhelm you.

As a Straw-Hat, you were a deity to be worshiped upon the pedestal held by the crew and captain of the Going Luffy. It was initially quite confronting, which then dove into overwhelming, and now simply infuriating. Their blatant disregard for your personal space had managed to make your skin crawl, and your lack of privacy had you so pent up you could burst in a rage at any moment.

The Thousand Sunny had little to no privacy as it was. Even living with a small crew of a few individuals made it difficult to find time to yourself to rejuvenate your energy - let alone now sharing the same air as those who couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone for more than was required to allow for your sleep.

What made it worse was the green-haired captain’s eyes. Those dark eyes upon his war-painted face would always find yours and beam up at you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him.

Captain Bartolomeo the Cannibal's were the eyes you would see each time you lay down to rest. Those eyes that looked up with child-like wonder as he expressed how much he adored you and his beloved Luffy. Those eyes you felt singe your back with their intensity each time you faced away, only to snap hastily anywhere else as soon as you caught him out.

It was too much.

A small call of your name broke you out of your seething, prompting you to turn to your two companions either side of you.

“Something the matter, dear?” Robin asked softly, checking you over with her knowing expression, “Have they been giving you a hard time?” She leaned back on her lounge chair to reach for her drink Sanji dutifully prepared for her.

“To be honest with you,” you confessed, piquing the interest of your copper-haired companion beside you, “This is the first moment I've had with just you guys since they came aboard.”

“Oh, I know,” Nami hummed thoughtfully as you spoke, darting her eyes towards the crowd and back to you once more, “Everywhere I go, it's just ‘Beautiful Miss Nami,’ or ‘Most Honorable Nami,’ or I think I got ‘Powerful Nami,’ at one stage - which I actually quite liked.”

Both you and Robin chuckled at her admission, garnering the attention of Bartolomeo as soon as he heard it.

To him, hearing the Straw-Hat women smile and laugh alongside him was the greatest symphony he'd ever witnessed. He felt compelled to tell you all as such, which prompted him to immediately rise to his feet and head up to the top deck towards the three of you.

“See, those names are beautiful, Nami,” you complimented her, which earned you a smile from her in response, “All I got was ‘Miss’. But yes, it's been really hard getting a moment's peace-.”

“-All of the beautiful Straw-Hat women in one spot, all lounging together like goddesses amongst us mere mortals,” Bartolomeo exclaimed with a wonder to his tone.

You groaned, hanging your head on your shoulder and pouting towards Robin. She chuckled and pursed her lips, giving a polite acknowledgement to Bartolomeo as he continued to sing praises of her ferocity and beauty.

He then focussed on Nami and spoke on her weather techniques and how much joy seeing her lightning gave him. His knack for storytelling and overemphasis on the words had you rolling your eyes and attempting to ignore him, but it was no use.

Each time you opened your mouth to speak to Robin, Bartolomeo’s growling voice barked out a whimsical wonderment towards Nami. Just as he began another tirade of how truly in awe he was to her polearm fighting techniques, you couldn't take it anymore and snapped at him.

“Down boy! Sit! Fuck, do I need to leash this guy?” you growled at him, causing him to immediately slink away from the three of you with his jaw slack. Before you had an opportunity to rephrase your wording, he plonked himself down on the floor, crossing one leg over the other and nodding at you in a frantic bob.

“You can leash me,” he whispered breathily, nodding once more with his eyes wide and wanting. “If it would make an angel more beautiful than anything my mind could conjure up in my dreams happy, I would do it-.”

“-Oh, stop with the praise, damn it,” you dismiss him, “Or I'll be forced to muzzle you too.” Nami sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to stifle her laugh while Robin drew her straw up to her lips and drank a small mouthful of the liquid.

Bartolomeo’s eyes rolled in his skull, his whine caught in his throat at the picture you gave him.

Of all of the Straw Hats, aside from Luffy, you were his favorite. He was always too nervous to approach you while either you or he was alone, simply because he felt as if he couldn't control what he would say to you. What was he to do, admit he had been in love with you the moment he captured your news clipping in his hands? Surely not.

“You don't need to muzzle me,” Bartolomeo confirmed with you softly, “I know how to behave. I can be a good boy for you.”

“Oh yeah?” you taunt him, leaning forward and challenging him with your glare, “You gonna be my good boy?”

Nami turned her head, her eyes wide while containing a squeal at the interaction between yourself and Bartolomeo. Robin’s smile grew in a large grin, her teeth now exposed and giving her an unhinged aura about her.

“I'll be anything you want me to. I can be your good boy,” Bartolomeo confessed breathily, your glare shooting sparks straight down to his cock and causing it to twitch against the seam in his pants. You reached forward, collecting his smooth chin in your fingers and smiling suggestively at him.

“Anything I want you to be?” you nod, looking down your nose at him and nodding suggestively. He mirrored your nod with his brows peaking at the center of his forehead. “Do you think you could start with being quiet? Then followed by you and your crew leaving us alone for at least two hours more than our sleep schedule every damn day?”

Nami burst out laughing, no longer able to contain her teeters. Robin’s soft chuckle joined hers, but your challenge never moved from your face.

Bartolomeo felt all of the air swell in his lungs at once, his breath snatched from him while being held beneath your stare. He let out a soft whimper, causing you to almost feel bad for him before he collected your right hand within both of his and tugged it tenderly away from his chin.

“If that's what you want, mistress,” he whispered, softly leaning down and pressing his forehead to your knuckles, “Then I'll keep myself and my crew away from you all when you need your space. I can be quiet. I promise.” He raised his head up and once again and beamed emotionally up at you, “I didn't mean to offend you with how much I like you all. I'll be quiet. I can do it, mistress.”

Your lips parted as he stood, releasing your hand from his grip and bowing low to you once reaching full stature.

“I'm sorry, ladies,” he nodded, raising his head to meet your eyes and depict his honesty, “I'll be whatever you need me to be. If you need me to be quiet, then I'll be quiet. I'll keep them all quiet. Again, I'm sorry.”

He backed away, causing your eyes to maintain their contact against his as he did so. Robin slowly held her eyes on yours and smirked as she noticed the slight hitch in your breath and fluster on your cheeks.

“Well, that was certainly something,” she chuckled contemplatively. “How did it make you feel?”

“A big ol', green-haired, sharp-toothed puppy dog following your orders,” Nami cooed beside you, causing heat to continue rising in your face and tips of your ears, “Did you see the way he looked at you? So devoted and needy.” Both women teased you with a soft coo, causing you to growl and hide your face in your hands.

“Fuck…” you whispered softly, raising your fingers to pinch at the bridge of your nose, “Something about the visual of him in a collar, leash, and muzzle did something. Damn it.”

“Hey, we don't Kink-Shame on the Thousand Sunny,” Nami pointed out, Robin nodding with a soft hum beside you in confirmation, “You wanna leash him, I'm pretty sure Sanji or Zoro might have something you can use. Or maybe Franky could make something for you-.”

“-You’re making it worse,” you growl at her. Her laugh once again rang melodiously through the top deck and down to the joint crew now being reprimanded by Bartolomeo.

“Don't you want him to be your ‘good boy’?” Robin probed you, “Have him sit by your heals and do little tricks to earn a reward?”

“Robin, damn it-!” you again groaned at her, “Not. Helping.”

“Would it help if we watched the door for you?” she shrugged nonchalantly, “Have you and Bartolomeo in a room together for you to invoke some discipline on the needy pup?” You turn and glare at her, causing her to place down her drink to raise her hands in submission.

“This was not meant with disrespect, love. I mean it,” she nodded at you, turning to Nami and nodding at her too, “We've all been pent up for a while, and you and the captain have chemistry together. Your auras align, and I'm sure he would want to continue exploring that with you.”

“Oh yeah? And what am I going to do?” you flail dramatically. Gesturing down to the bottom deck where Bartolomeo was gazing at you like a devotee up at his idol, you continued, “Go and say: ‘Alright pup, come and show me what a good boy you can be and follow some orders in my quarters’? Be real, Robin.”

“That's precisely what I'm saying,” she nodded at you, gesturing down to the base of the Thousand Sunny and shooing you with a soft flail of her hands, “Now off you go. Get your good boy.”

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, immediately feeling compelled to rise to your feet and leaving their company, “You're both so mean to me. I hope you're happy.”

“Not as happy as you're about to be-,” Nami snickered, only to be silenced by a scowl you sent towards her.

“I’m going to my quarters,” you growl at them both before taking a few steps towards the deck and peering down, “Let me have my fun.” Pursing your lips, you exhale a soft whistle to gather the attention of the cannibal on the surface below you. Clicking your tongue at him, you caught his eye and bobbed your head towards the hallway beneath the ship.

“That was always the plan, love,” Robin smiled at you. “We’ll make sure nobody bothers you until you're needed, which won't be for a while, will it, Nami?”

“Nope. Weather is perfect, and land isn't in sight for about four hours or so,” she nodded at you, “Go get that big puppy to learn some tricks. He looks like he'd be an animal in bed, and with a title like ‘cannibal’, you just know he eats well.”

With another exasperated sigh, you fled to the bottom deck towards the corridor where Bartolomeo was waiting for you. He was antsy, rocking on the balls and heels of his feet while avoiding your eye contact. Gently reaching towards the larger man, you flick at his chin to raise his eye line to your face.

“Does the offer still stand about being a good boy for me?” you tilt your head and dart your eyes between his. You hoped the tension you felt earlier was not unrequited, your pussy already beginning to gather a wave of arousal at your slit.

“Anything you want me to be,” he confirmed in a repetition of his earlier sentiment, biting his lip and gazing innocently up through his eyelashes at you. “Let me be your little pet. Collar me, leash me. I'm yours.”

A soft whine caught itself in your nasal, guts clenching in thick knots at his admission. Reaching forward, you take him by the hand and begin leading him towards your room.

Opening the door, he has a moment to take in the most hidden and intimate look at his second favorite Straw-Hat after Luffy.

The scent, the colors, the presence: the you. Everything was you, and he needed to commit each crevasse to memory in case you asked him to leave. While he was distracted, you reached below your bed and found your hidden lingerie collection and chose the items you thought he might enjoy.

While you would prefer to collar and leash him properly, give him a pretty name tag with your name on the inside of the material, you made do with an intricate slipknot to lovingly place over his neck made from a garter and a small length of rope used for bondage as a makeshift leash. Stripping yourself hastily from your clothes, exposed and completely bare, you finally turned and sat down at your desk and hooked one knee over the other.

He took another look at your bed before he finally turned away to view what you were doing with the rope. Turning towards you, his eyes grew so wide he felt they might flee from their sockets and roll onto the wooden floorboards.

“Well, don't just stand there gawking,” you rolled your eyes and revealed the little collar and leash, “Come here and let me put this on you.”

“Hhhgnm-...” Bartolomeo whined for you, dropping to his knees and wriggling along the floor while humbling himself before you. Once at your ankles, you leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of your exposed breasts and pebbled nipples as you drew the garter over his neck. Tugging on the leash, he played along to your motion and fell into your shin.

“Gonna be a good puppy and get a treat?” you tilted your head, gently parting your thighs and removing your knee from its place laced with your other, “Show me how much of a good listener you are?”

Bartolomeo felt as if he had ascended to another plane. A Straw Hat was giving him a behind the scenes tour of their quarters, and inviting him to be blessed with the opportunity of making them cum. He felt like his heart could explode, his panting breath picking up in intensity as he almost hyperventilated in glee.

“Barto…?” you softly checked in with him, “Is this too much? Would you like me to tone it do- OH FUCK-!!”

Barely giving you a moment to expel the words of concern, Bartolomeo surged forward and began nuzzling and whining against your cunt. His lips were pursed as he kissed every inch of skin greedily, tongue darting out to flicker at your crotch and taste your skin.

“Barto, w-wait-!” you attempted to reign him in, tugging the stretchy collar and trying to pry him away from your exposed area. In lieu of pulling him back, your grip on the collar only made him want to try harder to lick and suck your skin. Just as you pulled once more to pry him away, Bartolomeo managed to flick his tongue over your clit which had you cry out for him.

“Oh, fuck-!” you hissed down at him, “Barto, please make me cum?” You hooked your thighs over his shoulders, trapping his head between your thighs and angling his larger head to get a better angle on your entire pussy.

With one hand on the leash, you drew down your other and gripped his green hair while bucking up into his face.

“More on my clit please, pup,” you directed him, grinding your pussy against his eager smile. He immediately drew his lips up and circled your clit with a soft purse. Messily sucking on your clit, he parted his lips and kept the top lip rubbing the small bud while his tongue flicked and slithered against your slit.

“Mmm-! Fuck, good pup,” you whined, contorting your face in a pleasured scrunch and grinding into his lips. “Good listening. K-Keep going.”

Bartolomeo’s eyes never left your face, mapping and committing each motion to memory and whining into your pussy. His cock felt painfully hard beneath his pants. Already dampening the crotch of his patterned material, precum leaked from his small slit at the top of his cock at each small utterance of praise.

“There you go, good pup,” you keened for him. Your pussy was so wet, and with the additional combination of Bartolomeo's enthusiasm, you felt your ecstasy building rather quickly. It had been so long since you had a moment alone to think for yourself, let alone touch yourself, and it was beginning to show with how needily you groaned and whined for Bartolomeo.

“Mm, keep going. S-So close, puppy,” you praised him. Your grip grew firmer on the leash, fistfuls of green hair now burning at each follicle in a way that had Barto rocking and humping his pants while consuming you vigorously. He loved each moment, and he knew he was going to cum untouched as soon as you exploded over his face.

“Oh, baby, you're gonna make me cum,” you whine, feeling neediness continuing to take over your motions. He hummed desperately into your pussy, hoping you like the vibration he adds to your experience. He lulled his tongue out lazily, and bobbed his head messily up and down, while paying attention to your clit and slit.

You could ask Bartolomeo to do anything, and he would do it no questions asked. He would fuck your asshole with his tongue if that's what you wanted, have you sit on his face and ride him if you preferred it. All that mattered to him was making you cum. He needed to make you cum like the way his body needed water.

“Mmmfphmmm-!!” Barto babbled enthusiastically into your pussy, swiping his tongue against you with a ‘plap, plap, plap’. While the language was incoherent, the message was the same.

‘Cum for me.’

The pit in your stomach tightened to a point you felt it could snap, prompting your pitch and praise to get both higher in frequency and pitch.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck-! Barto, you're gonna make me c-cum-!! Oh, fuck. I'm cumming-!” You messily rode his face, holding onto the leash of your green-haired puppy while screaming for him. The world shattered like glass, your ecstasy cresting from your chest and swelling your bloodstream with pure bliss. Clear cum drooled out from your slit, Bartolomeo eagerly lapping it up while you chased your high.

As soon as you cried his name and warned him, he couldn't help it. Hot bursts of untouched release painted the insides of his pants and briefs as he muffled what sounded like your name into your pussy. Bucking wildly while sucking on your clit, he rode through his untouched high with his tip squished against his tight pants.

Coming back down from the crashing waves of bliss, you released the leash and his hair, peering down at him with a lazy glow illuminated in your skin.

“Good puppy,” you giggled at him, causing him to groan lovingly at the praise, “Lap it up, baby. Gotta get all cleaned up before I take that pretty cock you're hiding from me beneath those pants.”

Where Bartolomeo would usually say: “I don't think I can cum so soon, I just creamed my pants at the thought of you cumming in my face,” these were not usual circumstances. He was with his second favorite Straw-Hat, and he was not going to disappoint you.

However long you were willing to spend with him was a blessing from the gods, and he would be held at your mercy until you were ready to tell him to stop. You were a goddess to him, and he was a zealot to your altar.

“Good puppy,” you praised him, scrunching up your nose and cooing down at him. “Now get on the bed. Behave for me.”

“Yes mistress,” he whined at you, giving you needy kisses to the thighs and aiding you into his arms to bring you to the bed, “I'll keep being your good puppy for you. I can listen.”

You couldn't help the small whine that fled your throat, truly relishing in his complete and total submission to you. You then caught yourself wondering how much you could get away with by calling him your good boy. Would he let you peg him? Would he let you tie him down? Would he let you ride his face? Would he let you bite him? Would he let himself bite you with his sharp teeth if you asked him to?

All of those questions would find their answer over the next three hours of senseless and animalistic ravaging taking place on your mattress, followed by such sweet tenderness you had never known prior.

He was so sweet to you, and you praised your good puppy until you both fell asleep in the arms of one another.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶"Happy Birthday to Me"🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

When your swordsman didn’t sleep at all bc of he had to deal with a several days long storm in his one-man-dinky-coffin boat but also still wants to duel immediately

for the kink headcanons, can you do Heat, King, and Katakuri with Body Worship, begging/praise, and overstimulation? sorry if this was done before "^-^

Oh King - Hello good sir. I do believe this is the first time he's been asked for. Him and Heat Both \o/

Hmmm... Begging and Praise are pretty different to me, but begging feeds into over-stim, and praise feeds into body worship - so I think I can make this work.

Heat, Katakuri, King - let's go!

Heat:

Body Worship - FUCK Yes - Heat is, to me, all soft edges. Big heart, warm, calloused hands. He's scars and sugar, compromise and negotiation, but also firm and protective. He'll worship your existence with such unexpected gentleness - or expected gentleness if you've been paying attention.

The best times with Heat are those transitional moments, dawn and dusk, when the ship's extra quiet and people are either changing shifts or sleeping off big meals. He'll take what he gives to, letting the two of you be a tangle a limbs and lips, and soft quiet murmurs of love and appreciation.

Begging/Praise - Oh god you don't even know to both. - Praise ties into the body worship, but begging ties into Over-stimulation, which we'll get to in a moment. Soft and gentle as Heat is, I also think he has a sadistic streak. He doesn't want to hurt you in strictest sense of the word, but having you writhing and begging - your face stained with tears for whatever reason, he does enjoy that. So long as he's the source - like the other Kid Pirates, he won't suffer someone else making you suffer.

Over-stimulation - FUCK Yes - This man is a master of turning soft touches and gentle pleasures into absolute torture. He can have sensations building within you for an hour before you realize you're starting to get overwhelmed by it without any hope for relief. Praise turns to begging, soft turns into stern - dusk turns to night. The moonlight hits Heat's eyes and the tension in the air shifts. The softness and the kindness are still there, but there's a powerful desire to make you squirm, to make you beg, to make your body tremble against your will.

Charlotte Katakuri:

Body Worship - Oh god you don't even know - I'd written Kata receiving, but not him giving. The rating's the same either way. The reluctant lover wants you to know his reluctance is his own, and nothing to do with you. He'll praise and pleasure your body for hours on end, with a control that belies his size and stern face. He'll cover your eyes as he rains soft kisses against your skin, and soft caresses will carry such pleasure you won't even be sure if his words or his hands are driving you to the edge.

Probably both.

Begging/Praise - Sure / FUCK Yes - If begging turns you on, Kata will make sure you're begging. It doesn't do much for him directly - people beg him all the time, though not in the bedroom. He's far more interested in praising you, and honestly, being praised in return. Sincere praise, praise that actually knows him for who he is, is very rare in Kata's life.

Over-stimulation - Yes -> Oh god you don't even know - Kata's biggest fear is hurting you on accident. He's a lot bigger, and a lot stronger (unless your OPsona is comparable!) - but he's a very powerful man regardless. He wants you to feel unimaginable pleasure, but he doesn't want to accidentally harm you in the process. Once he learns though, once that future sight of his guides him through a few times, he delights in it. There's no greater blessing than seeing you unravel in stimulation and pleasure, and then watching you unravel in greater stimulation and pleasure because he adjusted accordingly in the time he had available to him.

King (other than "oh, hot." i have not given much thought to King, so this is all pretty spontaneous.) :

WARNING - Kind of Spoilery if you're not caught up on the anime/manga, but not blatantly so.

Body Worship - FUCK Yes - You should worship his body, he's far superior to you, after all. Lucky you to be loved to one such as he. If you have his attention in the first place you're pretty amazing to begin with, even if you aren't of the same tribe/clan as he is. King choosing you says a lot just from that, and he'll worship your body same as he expects to worship his. He might be superior, but he's chosen you, and that makes you superior as well. He won't let you, or anyone else, dispute that fact.

Begging/Praise - Yes / FUCK Yes - Oh you're going to beg. Maybe not for everything, and maybe not all the time, but you better know how to ask him for things properly. He expects creativity, and more than begging he wants to hear your praise. You might as well accept that you're going to be praying to this man on your knees a lot, but your devotion will be rewarded.

You'll more than earn your praise, and you'll get the desires you beg for. Nothing less to be expected of the person King's chosen to have by his side. (Do I think King's a little yandere? ... maybe. >.> )

Over-stimulation - Oh god you don't even know - Having you speaking in tongues beneath him like some follower lost in religious fervor is something he enjoys immensely. He doesn't really care about religion, but the feeling of worship that comes with it. The begging, the crying, the power to overwhelm you inside and out - it all comes together for him and makes the entire kink that much better.

He would never be so base as to be over-stimulated, but you're beautiful when you're coming apart because of him. He can't get enough of it, and honestly only stops so you can be undone again and again.

You've never seen Law like this, so bright and vibrant. It's... you have no words to explain how it feels. It's something new and unique. Like discovered the secrets of the universe. Seeing Law smile, so big and sincere, hearing his loud, husky laugh, has you on the verge of an emotional breakdown. Your chest hurts, but in a good way. You can't believe you're still hiding your feelings.

It was a silly thing, you didn't mean to be funny. You made fun of Shachi just out of habit, that's how you relate to others, you didn't expect to fall in such a... unfunny way. And it really hurt. But then you heard it. Your Captain's laughter. And as you looked up at the sound, you froze. Your heart was racing. It's not fair.

How can he make you feel that way?

“You have a nice laugh,” you blurt out without thinking, dumbfounded by him, still on the ground. You watch as his laughter quiets down, but a vague smile is still there. You smile widely when you see a slight color on his cheeks, looking away for a second before reaching his tattooed hand out to you.

"Come on, get your ass out of there. You're blocking the way," he says, no heat in his words. And when you take his hand and he pulls you towards him until you're face to face, you can only blink. It's beautiful in an almost painful way. Without letting go of your hand, he guides you away from the hallway.

"You should smile more," you continue speaking without thinking, completely affected by his sweet laugh.

Then Law smiles at you again. Just for you.

"Well, you must make me smile more."