Latest Posts by valen-yamyam16 - Page 2

ERM HI…. HAHA… I really like ur elliott fics and im wondering,,,,,, *looks at you with HUGE eyes* what if that one scene on Ginger Island where you have the dialogue option to “help him put sunscreen on” turns SPICY… Perhaps with an afab or genderless farmer…. 👁️👁️

Again, i love your stuff and i get super happy to see ur posts on my TL 🐝💕💕 long live the great bee 🤴

(For now i will remain anonymous… 🪳)

a/n: sorry that this took forever! i was in anti-horny mode. nonetheless, i hope you enjoy this fic!

word count: 1.6k

warnings: accidental boner, blowjob, deepthroating, semi-public sex (farmer and elliott fuck in the bathroom on ginger island), cum swallowing, farmer and elliott fail to realize that they're crushing on one another

summary: elliott needs help with applying sunscreen on his back and as his friend, you're more than happy to help! but what happens when you get too close and too intimate with the whole process?

★ the sunscreen incident - elliott x farmer ★

The summer breeze ruffled your hair and the sun beamed down warm rays on your skin, as you walked along the boardwalk to the resort. A rare day off in the summer season warranted a trip to Ginger Island and it seemed that many other residents had the same idea. An assortment of individuals scattered about the sandy beaches of the island, some soaking up rays while others chatted amongst themselves near the crystal clear waters. Your flip flops made contact with the sand and you let out a sigh of contentment, What a nice day.

Yet, out of the blue, your throat tightened and you groaned from the sensation, suddenly parched. Yoba, I need a drink. Thankfully, Gus had set up shop at the rental bar, serving drinks and snacks to the beach attendees. You made a beeline for the bar and greeted Gus with a smile, “Gus, my man, how are you?”

“Oh, (Y/N)!” the bartender flashed you a smile, “Things are well, very busy today. Can I get you a drink? Maybe a snack?” you eyed the menu and pondered your options, “I’ll take a mango smoothie,” you placed your order with Gus. He gave you a thumbs up and walked over to the blender, dumping the ingredients and blending them. Gus poured out the smoothie and garnished it with a little umbrella, “One mango smoothie.”

“Thanks,” you dropped a few G in the bartender’s hands. You took the smoothie and scanned the shore for any good spots to sunbathe. That was when you saw him, Elliott lounging on a striped beach towel with his glorious chest on display for all to see. Your face heated up at the sight and averted your gaze, not wanting to get caught staring at him like a creep. However, Elliott must have caught you anyway when he exclaimed, “(Y/N), my friend! Come here, please!”

You fulfilled his request and approached Elliott, plopping down in the sand next to him, “Hey, Ellie,” the nickname rolled off your tongue cheekily, “Enjoying the weather?” the redhead nodded, his ponytail bouncing with the movement, “Yes, yes, indeed. Despite living on the beach back home, Ginger Island’s waters seem more lively and fresh.”

“You think so?” you eyed the ocean before the two of you and sipped on your smoothie, “I guess it does look clearer than the beach back home,” you watched the people in the water, such as Kent guiding a floatie-wearing Vincent farther into the sea and Leah’s braided hair and snorkel straw poking out above the water. It brought a smile to your face, to see the residents of Pelican Town enjoy the wonders of Ginger Island.

“Oh, (Y/N),” you perked up at the sound of Elliott’s voice. He held out a bottom of sunscreen, SPF 70 to be exact, “Could you do me a favor and apply sunscreen to my back? I burn quite easily and I’m not flexible enough to apply it myself.”

“Of course,” you took the sunscreen and gestured to Elliott to lay down on the towel. He laid on his stomach and pushed his ponytail out of the way, allowing his back to be completely exposed. Your mouth watered at the sight of his toned back, adorn with freckles galore and prominent muscles. You had no clue why he was so in-shape, given his lifestyle of eight hour writing sessions and daily trips to the saloon for his meals. 

“Everything alright?” the writer questioned. You shook off your stupor and replied, “Yes! Just zoned out,” you uncapped the sunscreen and squeezed the white goop into your hands. You leaned closer to Elliott’s back and began applying the sunscreen, massaging it deep into his skin. Elliott let out a soft groan from your motions, He must have a sensitive back. 

“Need me to pause?” you asked. Elliott lifted his head up enough so you could clearly hear his response, “No need, I’m simply tender when it comes to my back. Please resume,” you squirted more sunscreen on your hands and swung one leg over Elliott’s legs, sitting down on his ass so you could get better leverage. 

Elliott let out a squeak of surprise, but quickly settled down and allowed you to resume your work. You continued to massage the sunscreen into his skin, humming a tune to yourself while you did so. Finally, after a few minutes, you finished up and announced to Elliott, “All done!” you hopped off his backside. Elliott turned himself over and smiled at you, “Thank you, (Y/N). I much appreciate it.”

“Of course, no–” you cut yourself short, your eyes locked in on Elliott’s crab-patterned swim shorts. Without realizing, the writer was displaying a proud erection, you held back a squeak of your own and hastily shielded his boner with your body. Elliott tilted his head like a confused puppy, “What’s wrong?”

“Ellie…” you swallowed your spit hard, “You got a, uh… you got a boner.”

Elliott’s eyes widened in shock and immediately covered the tent in his swim shorts with his towel, “Oh, dear! I’m so very sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know why I have one, I must go and take care of that,” with his towel as a shield, Elliott rose from the sand and walked over to the bathroom. 

To both parties’ surprise, you stood up after him and grabbed him by the wrist, “Wait, I…” you stared down at the sand, “It’s kinda my fault you, uh… have that little issue. Do you, uh–” your face was flushed with embarrassment, “I can take care of it.”

Elliott’s jaw dropped at your proposition, his freckled face a lovely shade of tomato red, “Oh! Oh my, I–” he covered up his surprise with a faux cough, “I wouldn’t… be opposed to that. Meet me in the family restroom,” he then entered the bathrooms. You waited a few moments, not wanting to arouse suspicion, before heading inside. Mustering up some courage, you approached the family restroom and opened the door. Inside, Elliott sat on the pull-out chair, towel still covering his boner. You gave him a small wave, “Hey.”

“Hello,” he returned the pleasantries. You walked up to him and removed the towel, staring down at Elliott’s boner. Elliott let out an awkward cough and you broke eye contact with the boner, “Sorry,” you apologized, twiddling your thumbs, “Do you want me… to suck you off?”

“That should do the job,” he answered, “If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“I’m okay with it,” you reassured the freckle-faced man, “Can– Can you pull your shorts down?” the writer nodded in confirmation and slowly slid off his swim shorts, his cock now free from its confinement. You gawked at its appearance, the mushroom tip red and angry with some pre-cum leaking out. It was on the bigger side, maybe six or seven inches, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. After all, you were referred to as “The Blowjob Master” back in college for your blowjob skills. 

You folded up your towel and made a makeshift pillow, placing it on the water-soaked floor and resting your knees on it. Timidly, you placed your hands on Elliott’s thighs- Yoba, those thighs could crush watermelons- you waved off your horny thoughts and looked up at Elliott, “Are you ready?”

“I am,” he patted you on your head, “Thank you for your help again.”

“Of course, anything for you,” you flashed him a small smile. Taking a deep breath, you grasped the shaft and gave the tip a tentative lick. Elliott stifled back a moan, his face now a deeper red. You carefully guided his cock in your mouth and once inside, you began to suck Elliott off. The writer bit down on his hand to silence his moans while you bobbed your head up and down on his dick. 

Yoba, this exchange felt otherworldly to Elliott, his crush down on their knees and sloppily blowing him. Spit leaked from your mouth and onto the remainder of Elliott’s shaft, coating it in the bubbling substance. With his free hand, Elliott found his way into your hair and tightly pulled at it, earning a moan from you that vibrated down his whole cock. 

Elliott’s eyes rolled into the back of his skull when you managed to find his weak spot, a vein directly under the tip of his dick. You licked and nipped at it, relishing in Elliott’s descent into madness from your cocksucking skills. In one swift motion, you took his full length in your mouth, your nose touching his beautifully manscaped bush. 

Elliott held out a muffled moan and promptly climaxed, shooting ropes of hot cum down your throat and into your tummy. You groaned against his shaft while he orgasmed and as soon as he finished, you pulled yourself off his cock and wiped off any excess cum from your lips. Elliott cleaned off any spit and cum from his now flaccid cock; he then put his swim shorts back on and gave you a relieved smile, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you winked, “I’ll see you outside?” Elliott nodded, “Yes, I just need a moment,” you gave him a thumbs up and exited the bathroom, leaving Elliott to his own devices. The redhead approached the mirror and steadied himself, hands gripping the sink hard.

“I need to buy them flowers as a thank you gift.”

ELLIOTT!!

i have all but one hc that's already pretty canon, but i think some of the only times elliott really breaks out of his character is when his hair is threatened (at least, it's the easiest way to get a bigger reaction out of him lol)

one last stardew post before i take a lil hiatus to work on school :,)) animation things

He just saw his hero picking his nose

I’m a big fan of Bartomoleo, such a silly guy 🐓

I rlly went through all the stages of grief with this drawing lmao (acceptance being the last one so it’s all good <3)

reblog to give your headache to elon musk instead

Too Cool For Me

bartolomeo x strawhat!reader

he worships every strawhat… except for you

a/n: I didn't mean to post this today but it's too late now... ugh dumb me

words count: 1.3k

tags: misunderstandings, idiots in love, romance, comedy

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆ .:・☆°

The first time Bartolomeo meets the Straw Hat crew in person, it’s everything he ever dreamed of.

“Straw Hat-senpaiiiiii!!!” He falls to his knees, tears streaming, hands clasped in pure, unfiltered reverence “I-I’m not worthy to stand in your presence!!”

Luffy laughs, delighted by the over thetop reaction “You’re funny, Barto! Let’s go eat!”

Bartolomeo practically ascends to another plane of existence.

One by one, he fawns over each of your crewmates “Zoro-senpai! Your badassery knows no bounds!!” “Nami-senpai! A goddess of the sea itself!!” “Usopp-senpai, your legendary tales are the stuff of history!!” Even Brook gets a full five-minute monologue about his status as a rock star and a living legend.

And then he gets to you.

Or rather... he doesn’t.

Bartolomeo barely spares you a glance. No tears, no fangirling, not even a comment. Just a stiff nod before turning back to Franky and screaming about how “SUPER” he is.

At first, you think nothing of it. Maybe he doesn’t know as much about you. Not everyone gets the spotlight in every newspaper. But as time passes and Bartolomeo keeps ignoring you, doubt creeps in.

You watch how he interacts with the others, clinging to Luffy like he’s the second coming of the Pirate King (which, fair okay), showering Sanji in praise for his “divine cooking”, even giving Chopper one of those ridiculous “senpai” speeches. But when it comes to you? It’s like you barely exist.

“Hey, Barto” you try to start a conversation one evening. He flinches like you just threw a punch “How long have you had your Devil Fruit?”

“Huh?” He blinks at you, then shrugs, suddenly aloof “Dunno. Long time.”

“…Right.” You shift awkwardly “I ate mine when I was a kid. The—”

“Ah, crap, gotta go! Luffy-senpai might need a drink!” and he bolts before you can say another word.

Your Devil Fruit ability, one that allows you to manipulate gravity in a small radius, suddenly feels useless. Not cool enough. Not impressive enough. You’re not impressive enough.

Days pass, and it only gets worse. Bartolomeo is the loudest person on the ship, yet somehow, he speaks the least around you. He acts like you’re just… there. The way he hypes up the others makes it glaringly obvious that he doesn’t think you’re at their level. Maybe he doesn’t even think you deserve to be a Strawhat.

“Yo” Zoro drops next to you while you sit at the edge of the Sunny, staring at the ocean “You’re sulking.”

You snort “I don’t sulk.”

He gives you a look.

You sigh “It’s Bartolomeo. He never talks to me. Barely looks at me. It’s like I don’t measure up to the rest of you.”

Zoro raises a brow “You actually care what that guy thinks?”

“No!” You pause “…Maybe. It’s just weird. Like, I know I’m not as legendary as you guys, but I thought I at least mattered, just a little bit. Now I’m not so sure...”

“Tch.” Zoro leans back, arms crossed “You’re an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks.”

He jerks his chin toward the other side of the ship. You follow his gaze and freeze.

Bartolomeo is watching you.

Not just watching.... he's actually staring. Jaw clenched, fingers digging into his arms, looking like he’s barely holding himself together. The second your eyes meet, he panics and whirls away, nearly tripping over himself as he rushes below deck.

Zoro smirks “Idiot.”

Realization crashes over you.

Bartolomeo doesn’t ignore you because he thinks you’re uncool.

He ignores you because he thinks you’re too cool. And now, you have a plan.

The next morning, you corner Bartolomeo before he can escape “Oi” you step into his path, crossing your arms “Are you avoiding me?”

“N-no! What? Pfft, no way!” His voice jumps an octave, and he won’t meet your gaze.

You smirk “Really? ‘Cause it kinda seems like you are.”

“I... I just...” He grits his teeth, then groans, dragging his hands through his hair “Ugh! Fine! I am avoiding you!”

You tilt your head “Why?”

Bartolomeo groans again, this time slumping dramatically against the mast like you’re physically torturing him “Because you’re—so—damn—cool!!” He throws his hands in the air “Like, I saw you in the papers and thought, ‘Damn, this one’s gonna be strong.’ But then I met you and you’re not just strong, you’re awesome! The way you fight, the way you talk, your Devil Fruit—it’s all so—gah!!” He grips his head “And I... I get nervous! I don’t get nervous! But around you, I feel like a dumbass, and I don’t wanna say something stupid and make you think I’m lame!”

Silence.

Then you laugh.

Bartolomeo’s face turns bright red “Oi! What’s so funny?!”

“You! You’ve been acting like I’m nothing special this whole time because you’re nervous?” You grin “Dude, I thought you hated me.”

His eyes go wide “What?! NO! Never!! You’re...” He grabs your shoulders, shaking you slightly “You’re amazing! I could never hate you! I’m just a dumbass who doesn’t know how to act around someone that cool!!”

You blink “Wow. That’s… actually really sweet.”

Bartolomeo freezes, realization hitting him like a truck. He just admitted all of that out loud. To you.

He promptly screams, lets go of you, and sprints away at full speed.

You watch him go, shaking your head “Idiot.”

But this time, you’re smiling.

Bartolomeo avoids you even harder after his accidental confession, but this time, it’s not because he doesn’t know how to act, instead it’s because he’s utterly convinced there’s no way you could ever return his feelings. To him, you’re like an untouchable star, way out of his league. Just being near you makes his heart feel like it’s about to explode.

And you? You’re getting really tired of this his nonsense.

The entire crew notices. Luffy, as oblivious as ever, just assumes Bartolomeo is naturally weird. Sanji is too busy trying to flirt with Nami and Robin to care. But Zoro? Zoro is actively annoyed.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles one night, sitting next to you while Bartolomeo pretends to be fascinated by a wall on the other side of the ship “Are you seriously just gonna let him keep running?”

You scowl “Of course not.”

“Good. Because it's annoying to watch.”

It takes another day before you get him alone. You corner him in the storage room, blocking the only exit with a casual lean against the doorframe “Alright, enough of this.”

Bartolomeo stiffens like he’s been caught committing a crime “E-enough of what? Haha! I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“You’re avoiding me again.”

“I’m n-not—”

You step closer. He steps back. His face is redder than ever “Barto.”

His breath hitches “Y-yeah?”

You smirk “For someone who thinks I’m so cool, you sure keep running away from me.”

His brain short-circuits “I—uh—I—”

“Why?”

He looks away, gripping his jacket like it’s the only thing keeping him standing “Because someone like you… you could never…” he swallows hard “You deserve someone better.”

Your expression softens “That’s what you think?”

He nods “Yeah. Like Zoro-senpai... he—he takes good care of you.”

You sigh, then grab his hand. He jolts like you just shocked him with a lightning bolt.

“Barto, you dumbass,” you say fondly “If I didn’t like you back, I wouldn’t even be standing here.”

His jaw drops. He blinks once. Twice.

Then... “EH?!?!”

You grin “Took you long enough.”

Bartolomeo malfunctions entirely. His knees wobble, his face somehow gets redder, and he looks two seconds away from passing out “B-but—but I—I—”

You roll your eyes before pulling him down by the collar and pressing a kiss to his lips.

For one terrifying second, you think he actually did pass out. But then his hands snap up, gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. The kiss is messy, desperate, and so incredibly Bartolomeo that you can’t help but smile against his lips.

When you finally pull back, his eyes are wide with disbelief “Holy shit.”

You chuckle “Well, yeah.”

Then he promptly screams, lifting you into the air and spinning you around in sheer joy “I’M THE LUCKIEST MAN ALIVE!!!”

Somewhere outside, you hear Zoro groan, “Finally.”

Bartolomeo ignores him, holding you close like you’re the greatest treasure he’s ever found. And to him? You absolutely are.

Let Me Take Care of You

Word count: 1900

Masterlist

Notes: A small, very light and cute one-shot in response to a post I saw a while ago. I really love Katakuri, and I’ve been wanting to write for him for a while, but I didn’t have a real project involving him. So when I saw your post, @mew-ya , I decided to go for it. I found your idea adorable, and it inspired this piece. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless. I’m taking this chance to say that I really love your art, and your OC Maren is so cool! I absolutely love the duo he forms with Katakuri! 😍

Tags: Katakuri x gn!Reader, fluff, comfort, reader needs rest, SFW. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You’ve lost track of the days.

Since the failure of Pudding’s wedding, chaos has taken over Whole Cake Island, and rumors of the Charlotte Family’s disgrace are spreading like wildfire across the seas of the New World.

Alliances have been shaken, mistrust is eating away at the bonds woven between the different factions, and the pressure on Big Mom’s powerful family has become unbearable.

You were thrown into this turmoil immediately.

Your days blur together without pause, dictated by tense meetings, endless negotiations, and discussions where every word is carefully weighed. Even though she is not currently on the island, the Empress’s shadow looms over every exchange, and the slightest misstep could prove fatal.

But it’s not just the allies you have to deal with.

The Charlotte family members themselves have become more demanding, more impatient. They want guarantees, results, immediate solutions. You barely have time to breathe between requests.

"Prepare a detailed report on this week’s commercial movements." "We need to review the treaty conditions, make sure the new proposals are drafted by tomorrow." "Tell the cook I want a special dessert, now." "Why hasn’t this file been sent yet?" " The ministers of Totto Land are meeting in an hour, make sure everything is ready.."

Each demand piles on top of the last, forming a mountain of responsibilities that never seems to shrink.

You barely sleep, sometimes you forget to eat, but you don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

As Katakuri’s spouse, you cannot afford to fail.

Fortunately, you are never truly alone. There is always someone – or rather something – there to assist you without you even needing to lift a finger.

The Homies are everywhere around you. These little sentient beings, created by Big Mom, seem to anticipate your every need.

When you sit at your desk, a chair slides under you before you even pull it out.

When you reach for a pen, one of them is already handing it to you, practically vibrating with enthusiasm at the idea of serving you.

When an endless discussion with influential members of the Charlotte family leaves your throat dry, a cup of hot tea magically appears on the table in front of you, placed on a tray by a Homie who doesn’t say a word, preferring to slip away as soon as its task is complete.

If your stomach lets out a quiet growl - which you usually ignore, too focused on your work - a plate of food is suddenly placed beside you. Carefully chosen snacks, never too heavy, just enough to give you a boost of energy without forcing you to stop for too long. You’ve gotten used to eating without thinking, mechanically swallowing whatever is placed in front of you between two paragraphs, two reports, two meetings.

The Homies chatter cheerfully and frenetically around you, and you absentmindedly nod in acknowledgment, accepting what they offer without truly paying attention.

Everything is fluid, organized, almost too perfect. You never have to ask for anything. Everything you need is already there. You accept this silent help as a given, without questioning its origin, without even imagining that someone might be behind it all.

And yet…

That night, you are far too absorbed in your work to wonder about this strange phenomenon.

For weeks, you’ve been stringing together meetings and negotiations with relentless discipline. You barely sleep, you forget to eat, and whenever Katakuri tries to remind you to take a break, you always give him the same answer:

"I’m fine."

No.

You are not fine.

He has been watching you for days, waiting.

Each night, you stay awake long after Katakuri returns from his own missions. Sometimes, he finds you still sitting at your desk at dawn, dark circles under your eyes, fingers tightly gripping a pen or a stack of documents.

Katakuri is not a man of many words. He prefers to observe, to understand. He knows how to spot a crack before it becomes a fracture, how to anticipate a collapse before it’s too late.

And everything about you screams collapse.

He saw it in your posture, more tense than before. In your breathing, shorter. In your hands, trembling ever so slightly, a movement so subtle that no one else would notice.

But he sees everything.

He has been watching you, silently. He knows that look, the look of someone refusing to admit they are pushing past their own limits. He has seen it too often in himself, in his brothers and sisters… but seeing it in you is unbearable.

That night, it’s the last straw.

He comes back late from a mission and, just as he expected, you’re still awake, hunched over a desk buried under paperwork. You don’t even lift your head when he enters.

"You’re home late," you remark absentmindedly, scribbling something on an urgent mission report.

He doesn’t answer.

He has stopped in front of your desk, observing you in silence. He doesn’t need words to understand.

He has watched you exhaust yourself day after day, the fatigue deepening under your eyes, the stiffness settling into your body. He has noted every little sign: the dark circles, the slight thinness of your fingers, the way your shoulders tense under stress.

You want to be perfect.

You want everything to be under control, every task carried out with impeccable precision. Because you refuse to be a burden. Because you refuse to let anyone doubt your worth.

He knows this obsession. He knows what it’s like to want to be infallible.

But he also knows what it costs.

He steps closer and gently takes hold of your wrist, stopping your frantic movements. When he lifts your chin with his other hand to lock eyes with you, his expression is filled with concern.

His skin is warm against yours.

"You’re trembling," he states.

You pull slightly against his grip, trying to free yourself. But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, doesn’t try to restrain you—only to hold you there, to make you understand that he won’t let this slide.

"I’m fine," you breathe out.

A lie.

Again.

And he’s had enough of hearing them.

"Did you take the time to eat properly today?" he asks.

Your gaze wavers.

"How much sleep have you gotten this week?"

You finally pull away, barely concealing your frustration.

"Kata, I don’t have time to rest. I have to make sure everything runs smoothly. The family has already suffered enough losses, I can’t…"

"You can’t what?"

He interrupts you, his voice slightly sharper. He doesn’t need to raise his tone.

"You can’t show the slightest weakness? Do you think that’s what will prove you deserve your place here?"

You clench your teeth.

"I have to be up to the task. After the disaster of Pudding’s wedding, we have to prove that we are still reliable. You don’t understand…"

"Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know what it means to carry a burden."

Silence falls. He still doesn’t break eye contact.

Then, without warning, he moves around the desk and lifts you effortlessly, his movements fluid and controlled. A small gasp of surprise escapes you, but he doesn’t give you the chance to protest further.

"Kata! Put me down right now, I have work to do!"

"No. Not tonight!"

His tone is firm.

He doesn’t slow down as he carries you away from your desk.

With slow but determined steps, he crosses the room. Every muscle in his body seems tense, not with anger, but with unwavering resolve and he gently sets you down on the couch before disappearing into the adjacent room.

You hear faint sounds: the opening of a cupboard, the soft clinking of porcelain.

A few moments later, he returns. In one hand, a thick, warm blanket. In the other, a steaming cup of tea.

Without a word, he drapes the blanket over you. Then, he places the cup in your hands. The contact of the warm ceramic against your fingers sends a slight shiver through you. You want to protest, to argue that you don’t need this, that you have to get back to work. But the moment the warmth of the cup seeps into your hands, something inside you cracks.

An invisible tension you weren’t even aware of carrying begins to fade, little by little. Your back, usually rigid and straight, sinks slightly against the couch. You slowly lower your gaze to the cup.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The Homies who always seem to know exactly what you need. The snacks that appear without you asking. The supplies, the reports, the documents that always seem to be within reach.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It wasn’t just the Homies diligently doing their jobs.

It was him.

Katakuri.

Since the very beginning, he had made sure you ate, even when you were too absorbed in your work to think about it. He had ensured you stayed hydrated, that your belongings remained in order, that nothing was missing.

He had anticipated your every need, orchestrating everything in the shadows, without ever expecting anything in return. Without even telling you.

You slowly lift your eyes to him.

He says nothing.

He stands there, tall and imposing, arms crossed, watching you with that unwavering, piercing gaze. But there is no reproach, no irritation in his expression.

Only patience. And determination.

"You lecture me when I skip a meal, when I don’t get enough sleep… But what about you? Who takes care of you?"

You lower your eyes, unable to respond.

Because he’s right.

He sighs again and settles next to you. Then, to your great surprise, he loosens the scarf covering his face and lets it fall onto his lap.

This simple gesture is a silent declaration of trust, a way to show you that you are important enough for him to lower this barrier. One that he never lets down in front of anyone.

Katakuri never shows his face.

Even in your presence, he always ensures he stays in the shadows. He doesn’t want you to see him too clearly. He doesn’t want to witness that flicker of fear or disgust he has seen far too many times in others’ eyes. Even though you have told him, again and again, that his face neither frightens nor repulses you.

But that’s not the kind of thing one believes easily after a lifetime of rejection.

So, he never responded.

He never told you that he believes you, that he accepts your words.

But to you, it isn’t necessary. He doesn’t need to say it. You have understood for a long time that his scarf is not just an accessory.

It is his wall.

His shield.

And yet, tonight, he lets it fall.

Not for just anyone.

For you.

Right now, in this moment, there are no negotiations, no reports to write, no alliances to manage. There is only him, you, and this bubble of quiet he is trying to offer you.

He gently removes the cup from your hands and sets it on the table beside you.

Then, without a word, he reaches for the blanket he gave you earlier and wraps it around both of you, pulling you close to ensure the warmth envelops you both.

You take a deep breath, and the familiar scent of Katakuri soothes you more than you’d like to admit.

Little by little, your resistance fades. Your body gives in to exhaustion, and you let yourself lean into him.

You fought sleep for a moment, your mind still reluctant to completely surrender, but one last glance at him was enough to make you understand.

You can finally let go in complete safety.

Katakuri will not leave.

He will watch over you.

As he always has, in silence, in the shadows, without ever asking for recognition.

Tag list : @jintaka-hane @novemberhope @imveryyellow @lxshoxk @fanaticsnail @daydreamer-in-training @pandora-writes-one-piece Feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added (or removed) from the tag list.

I saw pill bugs on here a few weeks ago and really wanted to make my own! The pattern is a bit rough but I hope it works (I tried to get it perfect for like a week before calling it good enough).

Just print out (or copy from a screen) the first page and cut out the pattern pieces. Hopefully the pictures on page two will help but if not I will do my best to answer any questions!

Hope you enjoy and make your own lil isopod friend!

If anyone makes this, I would love to see pictures 💕

First Franky of 2025!! I been meaning to post this one since last month, but I’ve been busy being depressed and lonely and playing marvel rivals.

It's a bit windy today huh

I think this suits him a little too well <3

Day THREE: Family/AU/Outfit Swap

(If anyone has a Straw Hat member that you want me to properly outfit swap with Barto, let me know!)

only three months late…

This was supposed to be Barto Week: DAY 5, hope it was worth the wait!

Y’all should send me more screenshots you want me to do ;)

Bartolomeo reminds me of Prime Moria so much, I can't watch episodes without taking tons of screenshots

This one I just had to re-draw on top, because

Just look at this

observation haki

i wanna talk about this shot

Surprise surprise It's gear 5 Luffy again!! ( Mostly in Wano )

burning text gif maker

heart locket gif maker

minecraft advancement maker

minecraft logo font text generator w/assorted textures and pride flags

windows error message maker (win1.0-win11)

FromSoftware image macro generator (elden ring Noun Verbed text)

image to 3d effect gif

vaporwave image generator

microsoft wordart maker (REALLY annoying to use on mobile)

you're welcome

The nine of pentacles, Katakuri

Hey there! I hope you’re doing well! I was kinda thinking if maybe you could write a lil something with Bartolomeo✌🏻He’s just so cute and funny looking and I love him very much😻I was thinking maybe something with a strawhat reader who actually happens to be a fan of Bartolomeo and has a crush on him. And maybe rooster head also has this massive obsession with her cause she’s his favorite and fell in love with her the first time he saw her. Just maybe something cute. Thank You!

Hello, sorry for the long wait, as said previously I was busy with exams but am done now. Your suggestion was very cute to write so I hope you enjoy it

Warnings/Tags:

Female reader

Dressrosa/beginning of Zou spoilers

______________________________

Narrator POV

The strawhats... Oh how they were just perfect in Bartolomeo's eyes. Ever since that day in Logue town he'd been obsessed with them! Following every one of their adventures and obsessing over each one. But there was one that he loved more than all, one that actually passed his love for Luffy (by only a small bit of course) and that was, you.

There was just something special about you that charmed Bartolomeo to become obsessed with you more than the others. You were so sweet, but so wild too, even a bit more violent than the others, and that just made him fall hard. Once the word that Doflamingo had the flame flame fruit that previously belonged to Luffy’s brother Ace, Bartolomeo knew he had to win it so he could bring it to the Strawhats to win Luffy's praise, and maybe even get yours...

-------------------------------------------------------------

Bartolomeo POV

Right now I was helping defending Robin Senpai against Doflamingos men when someone came flying towards me, I didn't care too much but the outline of the person falling seemed too familiar, so I caught them and oh boy... It was... You. You were injured now laying in my arms, I just froze in place, my heart racing and my body heating up. You stirred and looked up at me, and you seemed, reassured. "Hey, you're Bartolomeo the cannibal, right?" Oh god she knows who I am... "Luffy told me you're a big fan of us, that's cool because I actually really like you too" Oh my god, she likes me?? "I've been a big fan of your stuff, I like seeing what you're getting up to when I see you in the newspaper" Oh my God... She's... She's a fan of mine! This is too much for me to handle! I can feel my body shaking and heating up! This si so overwhelming!!! "I actually think you're kinda cute..."

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHOHMYGODMYSENPAILIKESMEBACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I shouted out, making everyone look back at me in confusion. I was sobbing at this point. M-my favorite Strawhat, they think I'm cute! They like me! God, this is so much more than I could ever ask for!!! I swear, my sweet Senpai, I will defend you with my life! I am undeserving of your grace but I am eternally thankful for you appreciation!

-------------------------------------------------------------

Bartolomeo did not put you down, making sure you wet safe. It was only when he fought against Gladius that he put you down to safety. And once that was taken care of you were quick to make sure he was okay and healed up, which he loved so much, being pampered and taken care of by you. And during the days of rest, you two got closer and he couldn't ask for anything more than to get close to you.

Now, you and the others were on Bartolomeos ship, heading for Zou to meet up with Nami, Sanji, Chopper and Brook. Barto had been following you around like a lost puppy, he knew you'd be leaving with the others soon and he wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. And when the time came for you all to leave, Bartolomeo was crying and clinging to you, not wanting you to leave. "Barto, I have to go..." you said softly while running your hand through his hair, "PLEASE! Just a minute longer... I'm gonna miss you so much!!" he cried out, "Oh don't say that, we'll definitely see each other again, our crews are friends now, it'd be a shame to just not see you again." "But when will I see you again!?" "Well probably in the newspapers, but, if you're ever in trouble, I promise we'll come as soon as we can to help. And if the crew can't come, then I'll come for you myself~" he was all red again, all flustered because of your kindness and love towards him, "R-Really? You'd do that for me???" He asked, his eyes sparkling. You leaned down and gave him a quick but tender kiss on the lips, "Yes, I'd do anything to come and save you~" He was frozen. You... You kissed him! Not only that but on the lips! He just collapsed unconscious in your arms, bus crew helped him to lay down and he just lay unconscious with his face all red and his expression completely lovestruck. You chuckled at his reaction and kissed him on the forehead before leaving with the rest of the crew.

Bartolomeo was now filled with determination, he would see you again, and he'd get you to kiss him like that again! He will see you again, and nothing was going to stop him.

______________________________

A short sweet one for now. But I've got one more request to do, so I'll be back very soon, see ya.

Kelly🐸

Dancing in moccasins

Bartolomeoxreader. Modern AU. An opposite attracts story!

Lots of swearing, some violence.

*****

You and Bartolomeo are of an age and both grew up in the same little town, but you are as different as two people can be. Barto is a thug, a good-hearted but prone to violence hoodlum who never finished school, and supports himself working odd jobs and gets involved in a different brawl every week; with his green hair, heavy motorbike and disrespectful attitude, not to mention the way he dresses, he’s well known to the local authorities. For Barto, the ideal night is spent drinking at a bar, getting in a fistfight with Gambia and his other friends -the Barto Club, obviously named after their leader- against another of the town’s gangs, riding around town on their bikes, and then camping all together at the place of one of them, nursing both an hangover and bruises as they sleep until late. 

You are at the other end of the spectrum. A straight-A student, you won not one but two prestigious scholarships for academic merit, and were accepted into a prestigious university; you spend your time reading, writing, visiting museums and attending conferences on various subjects. Years spent poring over books and staring at your computer’s screen -to study, not to play videogames or wasting time on social media- have ruined your sight to the point you have to wear thick eyeglasses, and your look is as classic as they come: plaid skirts, blouses and tweed jackets, moccasins and oxfords. Your criminal record is unblemished, you never even got a parking ticket or a fine at the library, and only drink a glass of wine on special occasions, more because you genuinely dislike alcohol than because you think there’s something wrong with it. 

In short, you and Barto hang out with different crowds and have no friends in common, but he was hired as a cashier at the same grocery shop where you work -those scholarships were not, unfortunately, enough to pay for your tuition, and you didn’t want to ask your parents for a loan- and so you did start to bond. You helped Barto learn to use a till and manage the shop’s books, and he insisted you let him carry all the heavier packages, and even defended you when a drunk customer started harassing you. You spend your breaks together, and he insists on walking you home every night, given the lateness of the hour, and even though he lives in the opposite direction, claiming -every single night- that he has to meet a friend in your neighbourhood.

In the end, six months after you started working together, you have become… friends, in a sense, and while when you first met him you were a bit intimidated by his weird hair and clothes, not to mention his name in town is synonymous with troublemaking, you did come to respect him immensely: Bartolomeo -it’s just Barto, alright? Not even my mum calls me Bartolomeo- is headstrong, determined, the sort of person who never gives up on something he cares for and lets no one disrespect him, all characteristics you admire in a person. He’s kind as well, even if he’s too embarrassed to admit it: he regularly comes to work still tipsy or with a bruised face, and he and his bike are regulars at the town’s illegal street races circuits, but you have also seen him buying -not stealing, buying- a bottle of milk from the shop to feed the neighbourhood’s stray cats, and to carry the purchases of a few old ladies to their car, saving them the effort, even though that is not part of his duties. 

He has told you he quite likes working at the shop, for once, and you are proud of all the effort he is putting in it; he might not be the sort of friend your parents, or society, would want for you, and you still disapprove of his habit of getting into fights and causing trouble for the mere thrill of it, but Barto is a good man, clever, kind, and…

… and you have gotten a crush on him, maybe even something more. It is your first time, but you feel yourself blushing every time his hand touches yours as he passes you a bottle or a can to put on the shelf, and one day you happened to catch a glimpse -you weren’t spying on him, you swear!- of his naked torso as he changed into his work shirt in the toilet, and the image wouldn’t leave your mind for days.

So yes, you like Barto, and, you decide after much deliberation -seriously, it took you less time to decide what university to attend!- you would gladly start a relationship with him, if he were to ask you, or accept your proposal. The problem is, much as it grieves you to say it, Barto has never given you reason to even just suspect your feelings are reciprocated. He’s always friendly and appears to sincerely enjoy your company, but nothing more; he doesn’t have a steady partner, but sometimes he mentions a man or a woman he went on a -social or, err, domestic- date with, never the same person for long, which makes you suspect he might not be interested in a more long-lasting relationship, no matter who with. You’re not even sure he considers you a proper friend; one day his friend Gambia came into the shop to buy some groceries and he refused to introduce you, mumbling something you didn’t catch before grabbing his friend’s arm to pull him towards the frozen foods section. 

The people he likes are probably as different from you as they can be; girls who wear low-rider jeans and heavy make-up, who hold their liquor as much as their boyfriends do and hold on their backs during a motorbike ride. Barto did offer to take you for a ride once, but you declined, because you were scared of falling, and of the speed the bike could reach, and you could see how disappointed he was, even though he didn’t insist. 

Why would Barto want to go out with you?, you reflect sadly one night as you close the lid of your laptop before preparing for bed; you have just received an excellent grade for your latest exam, but you can’t find any joy, nor satisfaction, in that result for once; there are so many other people he would like better, people who have more in common with him that simply thirty hours of work a week. He has probably never thought about you as a potential partner, content with being your colleague and nothing more…

 … then I’ll have to show him; show him I can be more than a colleague, and that no matter how boring and mousy I seem, I can make a man’s head spin, if I put my mind to it. Even yours, Barto. 

Your decision is taken. The perfect occasion presents itself a week later, when you read in one of the magazines you are arranging on a shelf that the Dressrosa, a popular club Barto told you he and his friends often hung out at, is going to reopen soon after a period of closure for renovations. That very night, as you and Barto walk towards your home, you gather your courage and propose that the two of you attend the Dressrosa’s opening night together, just the two of you.

Barto refuses.

“Why? Are you going with your friends? Can’t I… come as well?” you ask, sounding small.

“It’s not that; I mean, I’ll probably go with the boys, but… it’s not the place for you, (name); you shouldn’t go to a club like that.”

“But… I thought you liked the Dressrosa.”

“I do. Just… promise me you’ll stay away, alright?”

You have no way of continuing the conversation, because you have reached your complex; Barto mumbles a goodnight and then leaves, briskly walking away while you remain at the door, looking at his retracting figure while your heart breaks in a million pieces.

He’s ashamed of you. Ashamed of what his friends, and the other men of the town, would think if he showed up at the Dressrosa with a woman like you by his side; does he think they would laugh about you both, calling his virility into question since he was unable to attract a more desirable partner? Would he choose to avoid being seen in public with you, rather than chiding his friends for making fun of you and your clothes?

Well; if that is the reason, then Barto is not the sort of man you thought he was, nor the man you’re interested in being in a relationship, or even just friendly, with. By now he knows the job well enough not to need your help, and from tomorrow on, you promise yourself that night as you take a quick break from your usual night study session, you’ll spend as little time with him as possible, using your bicycle to return home and spending your breaks reading rather than talking to him. Part of you will probably miss him, but if Barto is unable to look beyond your clothes and love for studying, and cares more about his friends’ opinion than to spend time with a person who cares for him, then too bad for him, and you won’t waste your tears on a man like that. 

Still, no matter how determined you are to leave your affection for Barto behind, since he’s clearly not worth it, you are still annoyed, and upset, that he thought the Dressrosa, one of the town’s most popular clubs, was not the right place for you. Who gave him the authority to decide? Does he really think that only because you enjoy studying, spend most of your time in the library and only drink cola and tonic water, you are unable to enjoy yourself and spend a night dancing? In that case, you decide as you reach your first-row seat for your first class of the day, your laptop already at hand to take notes, you’ll show him! You’ll go to the Dressrosa opening night by yourself, wear a nice dress, dance and meet new people, and when Barto sees you you will ignore him, making it clear that you are more than able to have fun, preferably without him. 

A perfect plan, except for one single detail: you’ve never been to a club before and have no idea what to do, how to act, and especially what to wear, to a place like that. Fortunately, you have recently become friends with a girl attending a few of your classes, named Nefertari Vivi; her father is a famous fashion designer, and she is studying to follow in his footsteps. Who better than her could suggest you what to wear for your first visit to a club?

So you stop Vivi at the end of the class, explain your situation -at least regarding the Dressrosa and your desire not to look like a fish out of water; mentioning Barto would be too humiliating- and beg for her help, which your friend is happy to lend. 

Two days later, three before the day of the club’s re-opening, you go shopping together, and on your request Vivi chooses a dress, shorter and more ostentatious than anything in your wardrobe, a pair of high-heeled shoes, and even a few accessories. 

“Come on, try them on, let me see how you look.” she excitedly invites you, and you obey, disappearing in the shop’s dressing room. You emerge a few minutes later, and the woman staring back at you from the full-length mirror is… well, not you, or at least not a version of you that has ever existed before. But you look good, even though you just need to look at your naked legs, or the portion of cleavage left exposed by the dress, to feel embarrassed. And the heels are so high! Do women actually dance in these?

“Are you sure this is alright? I mean, I know one doesn’t wear to a club the same clothes she puts on to go to class, but…” you stammer, unsure of how to express what you think and fear, but Vivi, who is a kind soul who would never deliberately embarrass you, assures you that there’s nothing inappropriate in what you are wearing, at least for a place like the Dressrosa. Of course you don’t have to wear what she chooses, let alone something you don’t feel at ease in, and if you’d rather keep your legs covered, or choose a less modest neckline, she can…

“No, it’s fine. These are fine, really.” you rush to add, already regretting your objection as you retreat towards the dressing room, more than a bit unstable on your new shoes “I’m gonna take them off and go pay.”

And so it is that you buy your first club outfit - quite an expense, for clothes you doubt you’ll ever get to wear a second time, but you are sure it’s worth it. 

Over the next few days you pointedly keep your distance from Barto, who seems to perceive you are angry or upset for some reason, but when he tries asking what is eating you, (name)? you avoid meeting his eyes and ask him to leave you alone because you are busy with your book, which he does, with a roll of his eyes. Later that day, you hear him make plans over the phone with his friend Gambia to attend the Dressrosa opening night, and the humiliation inside you reaches the breaking point: he does intend to go, knows you want to do the same, and still he won’t invite you.

I’ll show you. Oh, I’ll show you alright, Bartolomeo!

Finally it’s the big night. Two hours before the club’s opening, you reach Vivi’s house with your new clothes in a bag, and she helps you prepare, even enlisting the help of his father’s assistants, Pell and Chaka, to take care of your hair and make-up. 

“You look lovely, (name).” she says in the end approvingly. The effect of the outfit, so different from anything you have ever worn before, not to mention the fact you are wearing contacts rather than your usual glasses, is even more striking now that you are all dolled up, but as you observe your reflection in the large mirror in Vivi’s room -which is bigger than your apartment- the feeling of estrangement has been replaced by something akin to pride: you may be a four-eyes teacher’s pet, a woman who has never been asked on a date and feels more at ease in the library than in a club, but you can look good, and even make heads turn towards you, if you put your mind to it.

You can’t wait to see Barto’s reaction when he’ll see the new you. It might be childish, and petty, but you hope that he’ll realise how pretty you are, and it will be too late, because you will have moved on, and maybe even met someone else…

You thank Vivi for her help, promising to reciprocate if she ever needs it, and she wishes you a good night and begs you to call her tomorrow to tell her how it went. 

You reach the club by metro, planning on taking a taxi to return home. You are more than excited as you join the long queue before the entrance, and finally you are allowed to pay for your ticket and enter; no matter what happens today, you know already this night will be unforgettable. 

The inside of the Dressrosa is not different from what you had imagined: a long bar counter, loud music, a DJ, go-go dancers on podiums, bouncers patrolling the area. The energy in the large, dark room is electrifying, exciting, sensual, and just a little dangerous; unlike what you would have imagined just two weeks ago, you soon decide you like it.

It would be excessive to say that the moment you step into the room, every single head turns in your direction, half of the other patrons wishing they were you and the other that they were with you, but you swear you can see appreciation in the gazes of two young men who openly look at you on their way to the bar, and a girl you had shared a few class with last year recognises you and compliments your outfit. 

You look around you for a while, observing the crowd that has quickly filled the club to capacity, and to your relief you quickly decide you are not out of place as far as your clothes are concerned; if anything, your dress and high heels look positively tame compared to what some other people are wearing, but at least you do not look like a fish out of water, which is reassuring.

Deciding to take your time before joining the dances, you reach the bar, sit on a stool and ask for a cola, to the great amusement of the barman. “Would you prefer a fruit juice, darling?” he asks, openly derisive, but then he starts to prepare your drink, which you are free to enjoy as you observe the place and the people filling it; the dance-floor is already crowded, and while the music is different from the classic composers and opera pieces you’re accustomed to listen, it is catchy, and who knows, maybe someone will come inviting you…

“Hello.”

A man is leaning against the counter by your side as he regards you with interest; he is very handsome, with long blonde hair and an outfit clearly chosen to emphasise the wearer’s athletic physique. 

You can’t believe he’s talking to you. “Err, hello.”

“Name’s Cavendish.” he says, offering you a smile that is blinding even in the stroboscopic-lit darkness of the club; you have always had a weak spot for guys with a nice smile “Why haven’t I seen you here before?”

“Well, this is the first time I… I mean, I usually prefer other clubs.” you quickly recover, praying inside you the man -Cavendish- won’t ask you to elaborate, because you don’t know the name of any other club, let alone the ones that could impress him “But I heard the Dressrosa was a good place, so…”

“It really is, especially now that you are here. Can I know the name of such a pretty girl?”

He’s flirting with you, you feel flattered to realise, like no one in your life had ever done before; you tell him your name, and you spend a few minutes talking - or rather screaming at each other, since the music is so loud you can barely hear yourself. Catchy, yes, but you know already that tomorrow morning you’ll wake up with a migraine.

You and Cavendish are talking about your jobs when suddenly you notice a green mohawk in the crowd, out of the corner of your eye: Barto is standing near a sofa his friends are huddled on, staring in disbelief at you. Feeling extra petty, you smile and raise your glass at him, and then turn to look at Cavendish, trying to look completely interested in what he has to say. As you expected, a minute later…

“(name), what the fuck are you doing here?!”

Barto is now standing next to you, looking supremely pissed and incredulous, even though you could swear you can see him blush when his gaze falls on your naked legs “And what the hell are you wearing?!”

He, you must admit, looks amazing, black leather trousers hugging his strong legs and backside, a shirt left unbuttoned just enough to offer you a peek of his firm chest, silver jewels on his fingers and ears. 

“So? I asked you a question!”

“Dude, leave her alone.” Cavendish intervenes chivalrously; then, turning to you: “You know this guy?”

You are sorely tempted to deny. “We work together.” you admit “Leave me alone, Barto; I am perfectly fine.”

“You shouldn’t be here, (name). This place is…”

“I happen to like this place. Now, please, just go.”

Barto seems ready to argue some more, but then he sees something in your gaze, and he gives up; he leaves, clearly angry. 

“Your ex?” Cavendish asks, looking at Barto’s retracting figure; you can’t help following his eyes, until the ever-moving crowd of the club swallows your green-haired colleague.

“Oh, no; we’re just colleagues.” you explain; it’s not a lie.

“Well, I bet he wants to be something more.”

You both remain silent for a minute; Cavendish gulps down his drink, and then, just as you find yourself wondering, despite yourself, if you shouldn’t stand and follow Barto to explain yourself, he takes your hand. “Dance with me?”

You have never danced before, not since your ballet classes as a young girl -which you enjoyed, even though you and your parents agreed it was better to interrupt to allow you to dedicate more time to studying- and you don’t quite know what to do. Fortunately, there are no choreographies involved: people just seem to stand, swaying to the music, hugging a partner or in groups, at most waving their arms or jumping in place. As soon as you have reached the dancefloor, Cavendish’s hands find their way to your hips, which feels a bit premature since you have known each other for twenty minutes, but what do you know?, maybe this is how it works in places like this. So you look discretely around you to observe what other women are doing, and then circle his neck with your arms, which Cavendish seems to appreciate.

Neither of you notices a woman, dancing with two others nearby, whose eyes follow you intently, an expression of displeasure on her pretty face.

“You are very beautiful, you know.”

“Thank you.” you say, sincerely touched; you can’t help but wish Barto had been the one to utter those words, but he wasn’t, he didn’t want you when you proposed you go to the club together, and you have to forget him.

You remain on the dancefloor with Cavendish long enough to lose track of time; you enjoy dancing, but you keep bumping into other people, and at some point, you feel a hand -a masculine hand, no doubt- squeeze your backside. You cry out in alarm, and turn, and the closest people are laughing at you; you demand to know who touched you, and they ignore you. 

“You okay?” Cavendish asks when you tell him what happened; he seems to be genuinely sorry but, he tells you, accidents like that happen all the time at the club, and most girls get used to it.

“You mean they don’t fight back? And their partners and friends don’t intervene?” you ask, flabbergasted; you are the least athletic person in the world, and have been a victim of bullism since you started school, but the one time you were molested -you were fifteen, and one of the school’s rugby player decided it would have been fun to grab your skirt to tear it and expose your underwear in the middle of the corridor- you slammed a eight pounds physics textbook in his face. It was the one time in your life you were called to the principal’s office, but it was worth it.

“Sometimes they do, but it’s so dark here it’s hard to say who did what. Listen, I am very sorry; just don’t think about it. If it happens again I’ll intervene, I promise.”

You nod numbly, thinking, once more despite yourself, that Bartolomeo’s reaction would have been completely different, had he been present; he would have forced the people who might have witnessed the incident to listen, and then he would have beaten the crap out of the person responsible and forced him to apologise, even if it meant being kicked out from the club, even if it meant being blacklisted from the Dressrosa.

He would have done it; even if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, even if he considers you nothing more than a colleague he is forced to spend time with. He would have defended you, whatever the price. He would have done it for you. 

“You want to stop?” Cavendish asks kindly, and you shake your head; you remain on the dancefloor for a while, but the fun you were having until a minute ago seems to have evaporated. The smell of alcohol and sweat impregnates the air, the music is loud, and every single other patron of the club seems to have decided to bump into you before the end of the night. In the next hour you see Barto two more times, the first as he sits by himself on a sofa nursing a beer, the second as he talks to a very pretty woman -you recognise her by her long pink braid; her name is Rebecca, and she’s a student of your university, a friend of Vivi- a sight that you have no right to be sad about, but you do, almost as if you could feel your heart breaking in a hundred pieces.

Suddenly you feel suffocating; suddenly, even though the evening has been somewhat pleasant until now, you wish you had never set foot in the Dressrosa. 

“I’m going outside for a minute; I need some air.” you tell Cavendish, and he nods.

“I’m coming with you.”

“There’s no need, really…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” he says kindly, and you, who had actually hoped for a minute of peace and solitude, can do nothing but nod.

The bouncers standing guard at the entrance stamp your hand as you leave the club, so that you won’t have to pay again when you decide to re-enter. The landscape you find yourself facing is quite desolate: a large parking lot full of vehicles, a few people smoking, someone who didn’t even bother -or manage- to find a more secluded corner before starting to puke their guts out. You let Cavendish’s hand on the small of your spine guide you to the back of the building, where at least the music is a bit less loud, and you can finally breathe a little more freely.

The two of you rest your backs against the wall, alone save for a few garbage bins, full of bottles and plastic cups, and a cat huddled on the hood of a car. For a few minutes neither speaks; Cavendish has lit a cigarette, while you are still thinking about Barto, and wondering if he’s going to leave with Rebecca to spend the night with her, like part of you had hoped he would do with you, had he accepted your offer to go to the club together.

Well, he’s free to; Barto is not your boyfriend, he has a right to spend time with and date and sleep with whoever he pleases, and his life must be no concern of yours. It mustn’t; you can’t allow a guy who declined to be seen with you in public out of embarrassment to break your heart, because a man like that doesn’t deserve you. Still, you can’t help but feel sad about it, because you do care about Barto, and you thought he cared for you as well…

“You alright?” Cavendish asks after a while, the smoke of his cigarette spreading in the cold air of the night.

“Yes, sure; sorry, I just wanted…”

Suddenly he is smiling as he throws the cigarette on the ground and stubs it with his foot. “Yes, I know.” he interrupts you, and a moment later his arm has circled your waist, pulling you close “I know what you want, baby.”

And a moment later he is kissing you.

It is so unexpected, even though it shouldn’t be, that for a moment you don’t know how to react; you remain perfectly still, your mind gone blank because of the shock, as Cavendish kisses you passionately. It has been years since the last time something like this happened to you, and it should be pleasant, because he is attractive and he complimented and paid attention to you and his mouth is warm and soft against yours, but it’s not, it’s not pleasant at all!

Why the hell is he doing this? You barely know him, and you have not consented to this in any way! Could he not -oh God he just put his tongue in your mouth- could he not at least ask or make sure you also wanted this…?

For a minute, maybe two, you try to get used to the kiss, to find some pleasure in it, to feel what a person is supposed to feel in a situation like this; but you don’t, and when Cavendish pushes you against the wall behind you, gently but forcefully, and puts his free hand on your breast, you realise you need to stop this now.

You do. “Stop it; please, you need to stop.” you say, and push him away from you, in case he thinks you are just playing coy, and Cavendish does take a step back, looking at you with eyes full of disbelief.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and you don’t quite know how to answer, because you don’t want to offend him, because he did treat you kindly and doesn’t deserve it, but you’re not sure you’d want to see him a second time. 

So you explain that while you do find him very attractive and had fun spending time with him, you are not interested in getting any closer, and poor Cavendish is completely flabbergasted.

“But… but you did dance with me, yes? We’ve been together for hours… and you let me accompany you outside…”

And this was enough to make him believe you wanted him to kiss you? Is Cavendish used to women falling at his feet five minutes after meeting him -it could be, since he is handsome and clearly knows it- or it is you who, since this is your first visit to a club, have no idea of how relationships develop in places like the Dressrosa?

In any case your decision is made and so, without hesitation, you tell Cavendish you are sorry to disappoint him, and that you never intended to let him on, but you have no intention of kissing him, never did, and you’d really like to remain alone now.

“Are you really sure?”

“Absolutely. Listen, I appreciate you keeping me company, but I don’t want you to waste the rest of your evening on me.”

Cavendish seems to agree, because a moment later you part, still amicably, and he leaves, in search of a woman more sensitive to his charm. The moment his blonde figure disappears from sight, you sigh to yourself, resting your back against the wall.

What a disappointment! Your first kiss in years -you could calculate how many exactly, but you are too embarrassed to- and you wasted it on someone you had no real interest in. You had expected so much from this evening, and yet here you are, head hurting because of the loud music, the packed room that made you feel claustrophobic, and you’ve been touched without consent by not one but two men!

Why the hell did you come here? This is not the right place for you, and you’re not the right person for a club like the Dressrosa, and there’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to try something new, but this has been a completely wasted evening, and your desire to show Bartolomeo you could have fun without him and despite his declining your offer is beneath you, something you should and do feel ashamed about. Oh, why did you not stay home with a cup of tea and that book you wanted to start reading…?

Busy as you are feeling sorry for yourself, you don’t hear danger approach until it’s too late.

“Hey, you!” the woman calls you, marching in your direction “What were you doing with my boyfriend?!”

You blink, absolutely sure you have never met her before. “... excuse me?”

“I’m talking about Cavendish! I saw you, you know, flirting with him and rubbing yourself on him! He’s mine, and you have to stay away from him!”

Cavendish did mention, as you made each other’s acquaintance at the bar, that he has recently broken up with a woman he had dated for a while, because she had been too controlling and obsessive, to the point of following him around and forbidding him from hanging out with his friends; he could have lied, obviously, to attract you, but you are almost sure the woman is the one framing the truth as it suits her.

“Hasn’t Cavendish broken up with you a while ago?”

“He… shut up! You don’t know what you are talking about!” she orders, her pretty face now bright red “You slut, you need to stay away from my man!”

Not wanting to get involved in a -former- lovers’ quarrel, you tell the woman you have no interest in Cavendish and she is free to go get him if she wants, but she doesn’t believe you, already convinced as she is that you have somehow seduced her man to take him away from her. You are usually a non-confrontational person, inclined to solve problems with words and reasoning rather than arguing or worse with violence, but tonight your patience has reached its limits; so you bite back at her, making it clear that you have no interest in Cavendish and that maybe he’d be still dating her, rather than kissing other girls, if she were less controlling and obsessive…

“Kissing?!”

Shit.

It’s too late, unfortunately, to take your words back, and learning you have kissed her ex turns the woman’s anger into full-blown rage. She swears at you using words you had never even heard before, and then, still unsatisfied, starts threatening you. “I can find out where you live, you slut, I’ll cut your face with a knife!”

“You can try!” you answer, equally furious; how dare she?! Does she not know you could go to the police for words like these?! “Who the hell do you think you are? The only way you can get a man to date you is by intimidating other women to stay away? You are pathetic!”

You are really fed up with all of this; fed up with this idiot, fed up with this sordid place, fed up with yourself even, since you got yourself in this stupid situation to get back at a guy who never even wanted you. Why didn’t you stay home?

“You know what? I’m sick of this. I’m leaving.” you declare, turning on your heels -your poor feet hurt, after a whole evening with this stupid, uncomfortable shoes, and you can’t wait to take them off and make yourself a footbath- and that is your mistake, because there are few things more dangerous than to take your eyes away from a person who is threatening you. 

You had noticed the glass bottle in the woman’s hand, but you had paid no mind to it, just vaguely thinking her behaviour was due to the number of drinks she had imbibed, not imagining that the harmless container might be used as a weapon; you are grabbed by the shoulder…

“You bitch!”

… and the moment your body is forced to turn, an arm is raised above your head…

“Noo…!”

… the bottle is smashed against your forehead, and the world turns into pain and the red of your blood.

“(name)? Oh, fuck… (name), baby, please, talk to me, please… open your eyes…”

Obeying is the hardest thing you have ever had to do -and since you have once taken three exams in a day, skipped two grades in school, and enrolled in more optional courses than any other student in your year, that is saying something- but you have recognised the voice calling your name, and this makes you less afraid of the world you could find yourself in once you come around. 

“Are you alright?” Barto asks; he’s kneeling on the ground next to you, genty supporting your head with one hand while the other is holding a dirty napkin already soaked in blood - your blood. You can feel it on your forehead, on your hair, dripping down your cheek, syrup-like dense and sticky, and you’re terrified, because you don’t…

“... know.” answer in a small voice “W-what happened to me?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I… yes, a woman hit me with a bottle, but… am I hurt? Barto, I am bleeding… I can’t see well…”

It’s true, his face and the wall behind it swimming in front of you, first clearly visible and then shrouded in darkness and then somehow opaque, as if you couldn’t focus on them, but Barto assures you your eyes are fine, even if some blood trickled on the left one. “You are probably under shock.” he murmurs, and then anger fills his face - an anger that is not aimed at you “Where is the bitch who did this to you? I’m gonna kill her!”

“No…”

“Oh, yes! I know I shouldn’t hit women, but I swear, I’ll make her wish she was never born…”

And this is when you start to cry. Out of pain, yes, and of fear and anger, but out of relief and gratitude as well, because until a moment ago you and Barto had, if not properly fought, at least been more distant than you had ever been since the day you first met, and he still came to help you when you needed it… as if he cared for you.

“Oh, fuck… (name), I’m sorry…”

“I-it’s not your fault.” you stammer. You are pretty sure you’ve never looked worse in your life, between the blood, the tears, and the ruined make-up, and Barto is at the same time the first and the last person you’d want by your side in a situation like this “Please, I just want to clean myself… I need to go to the toilet…”

“Good idea. Give me your hand. Come on…”

In the end he has to almost lift you from the ground, and then his arm around your waist is guiding you back inside, as you cross the room in the direction of the ladies’ room.

“Come on, we are almost there.” Barto says encouragingly, and you nod numbly, still a bit wobbly on your legs, clinging to his shoulder to keep yourself upright as you limp by his side.

The white-tiled room is occupied by several women who fix their make-up in front of the mirror, smoke, or make out against the cubicle’s walls; they react with surprise when they see Barto, but then they notice you, still sobbing softly, and every one of those women you have never met before immediately offers their help, at first making sure this guy with the mohawk is not the one who decked you and then assisting you in cleaning the blood away from your face and hair.

“I’m afraid you need stitches, girl.” one of them says with a wince, as she observes the wound “There’s a clinic behind here…”

“Yeah, I know the place.” Barto points out, preoccupation evident on his face as he listens to your moans “Sorry, but can someone go take her stuff?”

One of the women volunteers, soon returning with your jacket and purse, while another gives you her water to drink and a third even offers to fix your make up. You thank them all profusely, their kindness so welcome in a moment you desperately needed some, and in the end you and Barto leave the toilet together, him once again holding you by the waist.

“I’m bringing you to the clinic, alright? My bike is right here.”

“I can’t ride a bike.” you murmur as you finally leave the large door of the Dressrosa behind you.

“You just need to hold on to me; we’ll be there in five minutes.” 

“Barto, I really can’t…”

“Yes, you can. (name), believe me.” he tells you, taking your face in his hands, large and rough, but so kind as they cradle your head, and suddenly you are so close he could kiss you, and the mere thought makes your heart tremble “I promise you won’t fall. I know it hurts like shit, but hold fast, alright? Five minutes, and we’ll be at the clinic. Can you do it for me?”

There is very little you would not do for him, but if there’s a right moment to tell him, this is not it. The truth is you have always wanted to ride Barto’s bike, a beautiful, powerful vehicle that is his pride and joy, but you refused the only time he offered to take you for a ride, afraid you’d be too scared and you’d make a fool of yourself begging Barto to slow down or to stop because you were feeling sick. He probably wants a girl who knows her stuff about bikes -“it has two wheels, and an handlebar”, that’s all you could say- you have thought ruefully more than once, a girl who probably has one of her own, unlike you, who take the metro to go to class and cycle around the rest of the time.

Still, that is a thought for another moment as well. The bike is parked on the back of the club; once you reach it, Barto helps you mount behind him, and you hold on tight, still too in pain and too scared of falling to appreciate the fact you can feel his athletic, solid body in your arms, the pleasant smell of his aftershave filling your senses. 

“Barto, please…”

“Don’t worry, baby.” he says, turning to look at you with a smile, as he starts the engine, the bike coming alive under him like a lion roaring “You’re safe with me.”

You believe him.

You reach the clinic less than ten minutes later, the brief journey at low speed and perfectly safe, and enter the waiting room, empty save for a clearly exhausted doctor taking a cup from a vending machine, a nurse pushing a patient in a wheelchair towards a corridor, and another nurse sitting behind the counter. 

It is she who Barto walks determinedly towards, having left you on one of the chairs available for the waiting patients. “Sorry, is Nico Robin here tonight?”

The woman Barto has asked for appears a minute later; she seems to be only a few years older than you, tall and slender, clad in an immaculate doctor coat, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. 

“Hello, Bartolomeo.” she says kindly, apparently not at all upset to have been called upon when she was probably already busy with something else “I’d ask what brings you here tonight but I think I can see it with my eyes.”

“This is my friend (name); some bitch at a club smashed a glass bottle on her face.” Barto succinctly introduces you “Can you give her a look? And she probably needs something for the pain.”

“Of course. (name), I am doctor Nico Robin.” the woman kindly introduces herself to you “Can you come with me, so I can get a look at your wound?”

You nod quietly, and five minutes later you are sitting on a hospital bed in a small, white-walled room, while Robin takes care of your wound and Barto stands guard by your side. He has taken your hand in his, squeezing it gently every time he sees pain on your face: you had never gotten stitches before, and you really wish that was a gap you wouldn’t have to fill.

“Alright, all done.” Robin announces in the end as she stands from her stool, to then retrieve a small mirror from a shelf “Have a look.”

You do, and fortunately now that it has been cleaned and closed, your wound looks… a bit less horrible than before. “Will it leave a scar?” you ask, dreading the thought of having a reminder of that horrible moment on your skin forever, but fortunately the doctor -Robin, please- reassures you.

“It shouldn’t; it’ll take a while to heal, but you should be fine. You will have to keep a bandage on it for a few days, though.”

That is a sacrifice you can bear. 

“That’s good; your face is too pretty to ruin it with a scar… even though you’d have looked badass, (name), I’m sure.” Barto points out; then, as if realising he has just paid you a compliment, he blushes furiously and looks away, hands in his pockets.

You thank Robin profusely for her help, and she just smiles in return, walking you to the door before returning to her job.

“How do you feel?” Barto asks quietly as you walk back to his bike; he seems nervous, as if fearing you could blame him for what happened, or tell him you never want to see him again.

Those are, of course, the farthest things from your mind, but you are too tired and in pain to focus on it; the only thing you want now is your home, your bed, and a cup of chamomile.

“Better, I think; I hope I’ll feel better tomorrow morning.” you answer, forcing a smile “Can you accompany me home, please?”

He nods, and so a minute later you’re riding through the night, the roar of the engine deafening you, and you are cold and tired and in pain and your feet are killing you, but you feel safe, clinging to Barto’s warm, solid body, no longer worried but sure that he’ll bring you home, safe and sound, just like he promised.

He does, and in the end it is very late, so late it is almost early, when Barto sees you retrieve your house key from your bag, standing in front of your complex and looking more ill at ease than you thought he could. 

“Listen, I…” he begins, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck “I… err…”

“Yes?”

“Shit… (name), I am so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, Barto. None of it is…”

Your friend shakes his head, apparently determined not to be comforted. He found you outside the club because he saw Cavendish inside by himself and asked him about you, he explains, but had he arrived five minutes earlier he could have stopped that bitch from hurting you. Or even better, he should have accompanied you to the Dressrosa, so that he’d have been by your side at all times…

Ah.

“Barto?”

“Yes?”

You swallow, now turned to look at him; you have never been afraid of Barto, but suddenly asking the question waiting behind your lips is the hardest thing you have ever done. 

“Why didn’t you want to go to the club with me? Are you… ashamed of me? Of the way… I dress? You thought people would laugh at you, because you were with me?”

The ten seconds that follow are the longest, tensest of your life, but Barto seems too stunned to react, staring at you as if he had never met you before. 

“Oh, shit.” he says in the end, finally realising the effect his refusal had on you “Oh, God, (name), no! I could never… be ashamed of you! Do you really think I care about what people think?”

“Well, I thought… the clothes I usually wear are not exactly the sort you wear to a club… and there were so many beautiful women…”

Another shake of his head, before your friend rests his hands on your shoulders, staring at you like a man does when he’s making a solemn promise, or swearing on his life what he says is the truth. 

Bartolomeo, it turns out, is doing both things.

“The only beautiful girl I could see tonight is you.” he murmurs “And believe me, I would have been happy to go to a club with you; or anywhere really. Proud to.”

“But then why…?”

“The Dressrosa is a dangerous place, (name); you’ve seen it too. It’s nice, the drinks are good and the music too, but the violence… Police have to intervene all the time, one time  I’ve seen three stabbings in one night, and no girl goes there without at least two guys protecting her, because you never know what could happen. I just didn’t want something bad to happen to you; I should have told you, but I didn’t want you to think I thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. I wanted to take you somewhere else, a nicer place where we could drink and dance and have time to talk, but…” 

“I beat you to it.”

“You did. I am so sorry, (name); it’s all my fault.”

You sigh, at the same time relieved you were able to clarify the misunderstanding, and feeling more stupid than ever; had you and your friend just talked, him admitting the reason for his refusal, and you being less petty and avoiding going to a place you weren’t even really interested in, all this mess could have been avoided. You could have spent a nice evening somewhere else, and now instead you have a new pricey outfit you will never wear again, and an ugly wound on your head that will take weeks to heal.

“I just wanted you to look at me.” you mumble; you can’t bear to look back at Barto, and suddenly you feel stupid, and childish, and so so tiny “Not as colleagues who help each other and spend their breaks together, and not like friends either. Girls like me are seen, but rarely looked at. I wanted you to look at me, and to want me.”

“But I do want you.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Barto. I ruined your night, I’m sorry…”

“You didn’t. Fuck, I would have been happy to have a bottle smashed on my face, if it meant I’d get to take you home.” he says, and you can feel him tremble  “(name), I… I do look at you, and want you. I just… I’m not good for you.”

“Barto, no…”

Another determined shake of his head. “You know that too. You’re good, smart, you don’t get in trouble… you’re probably gonna have a great career and make a lot of money; I’ll be lucky if I get to work at the shop for the rest of my life and pay my rent with that. I’m not saying my life sucks; I like my life. But you deserve better, (name); you deserve a guy who can study with you, and who can afford to buy you nice things, and-and bring you to all those places for brainy people like museums and…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence; he can’t, because you have grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and smashed your mouth against his in a kiss that is passionate, fierce, and expresses everything you haven’t dared to utter in words. Barto is clearly taken aback, but a moment later he’s moaning in your mouth, one of his arms holding you by the waist while the fingers of the other run through your hair. 

“Shit, baby…”

“Don’t talk; just kiss me.” you tell him, without breaking the kiss, and you can feel Barto laugh softly against your mouth.

“As you wish…”

You could get inside, you have the keys to the complex in your hand, but you can’t stop, you can’t stop kissing him and holding him and having your hands discover his skin through and under his clothes. Barto is holding you as if never wanting to let go, his strong hands moving up and down your sides, his tongue doing something so unspeakable to yours you can feel your knees buckle, if it weren’t for the wall now pressed against your back. You are kissing near the complex’s trash bins, in sight of any tenant who just decides to look out of their window, your wound is still hurting and Barto tastes like cheap alcohol and smoke, but it is your first kiss, and it is perfect the way it is.

The moment Barto’s hands touch your buttocks, you jump.

“Shit, sorry… I didn’t mean…”

“No, it’s fine.” you hurry to answer; you’re bright red in the face, he can see it, and you don’t care “I-I don’t mind; quite the opposite in fact.”

Barto laughs, clearly pleased as his hands slide downwards, his fingers grabbing at your flesh. “This is a side of you I didn’t think existed.” he murmurs.

“These stupids clothes don’t count?”

“I think you look very pretty tonight; but you always look nice.”

“Seriously?” you inquire, breaking the kiss to look at him; maybe it’s stupid to ask for reassurance in a moment like this, since Barto is clearly doing his best to prove how much he likes you, but you can’t help it “I thought… I mean, my long skirts and blouses and all the rest are pretty boring compared to what other girls wear…”

“I like your long skirts and blouses and all the rest just fine; and you are sexy as hell whatever you wear.”

“Barto…”

“I’m serious, (name).” he insists, and he really is, as he takes your face in his hands once more “Do you really think I care about the sort of clothes you wear? I know you, and I want you; I want you so much it hurts. And I know I’m not good for you, and that you deserve better, but if you actually give a damn about me, if you just give me a chance, I promise…”

“Ssh…”

A finger on his lips silences Barto. “I do much more than care for you.” you reassure him “I want you too, Barto; because I know you too. I know how clever, kind, and protective you are; I have wanted you for a long time, and I am so happy I got to tell you.”

You share a smile, still holding each other tight; no more words are necessary as Barto lets you lead him to the complex’s door, which a minute later closes behind you.

You find yourself whistling softly, something you only do when you are particularly happy or relaxed -or both things together, like in this particular instance- when, thirty-six hours later, in a sunny early afternoon, you leave the faculty building where most of your classes take place. Your bag, hanging from your shoulder, is as usual heavy with the weight of your books, but by contrast, your step has never been so light as you move towards the main door, walking past students and professors, some of which you greet with a nod without lingering. 

On a day like this you would normally spend the little time before you’re due at work in the library studying, but not today; today you have plans, plans that made focusing on your morning classes harder than ever, but the moment has finally come, and you can’t wait to…

You are so deep in your thoughts, it takes you a moment to realise your phone is ringing in the back pocket of your slacks; you plan on not answering unless it’s an emergency, given the fact you are expected, but reading the name of the screen makes a smile appear on your face.

“Vivi, hi! I’m sorry, I had promised I would…”

“(name)... hi, it’s Cavendish.”

You stop in your tracks, momentarily stunned. “... Cavendish?!”

“Yes, that’s me. I was talking to Vivi, we are old friends, and when I mentioned the Dressrosa we realised we both knew you.” he explains “I thought it wouldn’t be fair to ask her for your number without your permission, but I hope you don’t mind if I called you.”

Glancing at your watch -five minutes more and you’ll be late- as you force yourself not to sound too frustrated, you assure him that no, of course you don’t mind. Cavendish then tells you he heard about your misadventure with his ex, and he can’t help but feel guilty for what happened, even though you assure him he has no fault, especially since your wound will heal soon.

“That is very good to hear. The truth is… well, I was wondering if you’d let me buy you a drink sometimes? I know you… well, you didn’t let me kiss you, but we did have fun together, didn’t we? I’d really like to get to know you better. Just a drink, I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

You thank him for the offer, and admit you enjoyed spending time with him at the club, but, you add, you are going on a date right now, and at the moment you are not interested in seeing anyone else.

Cavendish, to his credit, takes it pretty well. “I see. Well, have a good-day then.”

“You too, Cavendish. Thanks for asking, and will you please tell Vivi I’ll call her soon?”

He promises he will, after which you say your good-bye and finally close the call. 

Well, that was unexpected, you think as you put your phone away, but you know declining the request for a date was the right thing to do; you doubt you and Cavendish would have much to talk about, and he’ll surely find someone else to date soon… just like you have.

Barto is waiting for you in front of the university’s courtyard, sat on his bike, and grins happily when he sees you approach. “Here’s my woman!”

“I’m here! Sorry, I got caught up.”

“I already thought you had changed your mind…”

“Never.” you assure him decisively “Now come here, I need a kiss.”

You share one, long and passionate, indifferent to the many students and professors, some of whom know you personally, surrounding you; both of you are smiling when you part.

“Are you sure you don’t mind coming?”

“Of course not; if you like this bar, I want to see it as well. We have just the time for a drink before work.”

“Can’t we skip it and spend the rest of the day in bed at my place? I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Barto laughs, before opening the tail box “You can put your books here.”

You do, and a minute later you are sitting on the bike behind him, happily holding Barto’s warm, solid body tight; he grins as he starts the engine. “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

“I know you won’t; I just like hugging you.”

“Ah, well, in that case…”

You are both smiling; a moment later the roar of the engine has filled the air, and the bike is speeding down the road, carrying you both away under the early afternoon sky. 

✦♡✦ Take A Break ✦♡✦

Katakuri x Fem!Reader [AO3 Link] Description: It's Katakuri's birthday but he's too busy working on paperwork, so you try to get him to take a break. Tags: Size difference, Reader is average human size, Thigh Riding, Dry Humping, Grinding, Tit job, Facial, Kata is a shy boy, Reader & Kata are married, 18+ MDNI Words: 1.5K ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The soft click of your heels reverberated down the hall as you searched for your husband. It was a special day today and you wanted to spend as much time as you could with him. You had looked all over the manor the two of you lived in on Komugi Island but there was only one place left that he could be. 

As you approached his office door, a sigh came from you. Of course, this was where he would be, even today.  

You gently opened the door to find Katakuri at his desk, grossly involved in his paperwork. His eyes didn’t even lift from the page in his hand as you entered further into the room. 

“I thought I said no more interruptions.” Katakuri said gruffly, as he put the paper down to write on it, still not looking at you.  

“Not even from your wife?” You asked, a light snark to your tone and your arms now crossed.  

His head snapped up to look you, now standing in the middle of his office. Katakuri could only fumble out your name as he tried to gather himself, a light blush dusting the tops of his cheeks you could see over his scarf. 

The two of you had been married for about six months now but he was still shy around you and you couldn’t help but revel in it. This man - basically triple your size and with this tough, badass exterior - melted every time he was alone with you. It was so endearing to you but there was also a part of you that loved to make his blush redder and redder. 

A feline-like grin spread across your face as you gave him a small wave.  

“S-Sorry.” He said, fiddling with the pen in his hand. “I just kept getting visits from my siblings all morning.” 

“Well, it is your birthday today, my love.” You told him, that smile still on your face. His body jolted slightly and Katakuri averted his gaze, blush spreading more.  

Your smile only grew. 

“I didn’t know that you knew that was today...” He said softly, bringing a hand up to adjust his scarf and you quietly tracked the movement. You still had not seen what was under that piece of fabric and as much as you loved to tease the big man, even that you knew was off limits.  

“Of course I know that.” You replied, taking your gaze away from his scarf and back to his still averted eyes. “You are my husband, after all.” 

You started to make your way over the side of his large desk as you asked him the question on your mind. 

“And with it being your birthday today, why are you cooped up in here all by yourself?” 

“A-Ah, well...” He started, looking down at you as you now stood next to his seated form. “I had some down time today so I figured I could get this paperwork done.” 

You nodded your head in response, looking over what you could see of the stacks of paper on his desk. You had wanted to spend some time with him before he was swept away by the family for his birthday celebration later this evening. At this rate though, with all this work, that wasn’t going to happen.  

“How about taking a break?” You asked him, hopeful he’d say yes. 

“Sorry, I have to get this done.” Katakuri told you, an apologetic look on his face. “M-Maybe you could sit in here with me though?”  

You gave him a soft smile, liking that idea.  

It was at least something, you supposed. 

But after giving the room a quick glance, there wasn’t really any furniture you could sit on without his help. 

“Could I be up there with you? Maybe on your lap?” You asked him, looking back up at him. 

Katakuri froze, eyes wide and staring at you. 

That light blush from before was now beet red and all Katakuri could respond with was small, quick nods as he reached to pick you up. 

He set you gently on his thigh near his hip and checked with you that you were good. After confirming with him, Katakuri went back to his work and you watched quietly, kicking off your heels.  

Being this close to him sent a shiver down your spine and you could tell by his rigidness that it was the same for your husband. 

The two of you sat like that for some time - him scribbling notes or signatures on various papers and you watching, making idle chatter. 

As you talked with him, your hand started to idly stroke his thigh which made his breath hitch. It made that spark inside you ignite again and you rubbed your hand along his thigh more purposefully now. His breathing picked up and it made you have to bite back a smile.  

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?” Your tone was sultry and Katakuri’s grip on his pen was near breaking. It hadn’t been what you originally had in mind but now that you were here, you decided to shoot your shot. 

“Maybe a small one won’t hurt.” He replied, his voice low and you looked back up at him to see him staring intently at you. That blush was still ever present but his eyes portrayed his arousal. You grinned up at him and shifted yourself so you straddled his thigh, facing him. 

The two of you had only been intimate at night and in the privacy of your bedchamber. So, to be doing this here and now like this added another level of excitement that you knew Katakuri was also feeling. 

You had been wearing a strappy dress that day and you lowered the straps to show off your breasts to him. A low groan came from him as his eyes roamed your chest.  

You started to rock your hips, rubbing your clothed core against his thigh. A breathy moan escaped from your lips and you used your hands placed behind you to anchor yourself. Katakuri pressed his thigh harder against you, letting you use him to chase your pleasure. Your hips rocked faster and your head lolled back, moans spilling from you.  

Katakuri could only watch you like he was in a trance. Seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure made his cock so hard it was near painful.  

As you continued to rub yourself against him, you reached forward to press your hand against his cock still kept behind his leather pants. A loud groan came from your husband and you matched it as your toes curled. 

You loved hearing him moan; you could almost get off on it alone. Being able to have this large man be putty in your hands was everything to you. It gave you a high like no other. 

As you continued to rock your hips, you could feel your climax building in your lower stomach. Your moans pitched higher and higher until you cried out, your orgasm washing over you.  

You slumped forward, your hand still pressed against Katakuri’s cock. After some deep breaths, you lifted your head up to lock eyes with him. 

“I need It." You told him, panting. Katakuri’s eyes were blown wide after watching you and he just nodded in response. 

He lifted you from his leg and placed you on his desk, moving the papers out of the way. You laid on your back as he stood up and removed his cock from his pants. 

The two of you weren’t really able to have intercourse but you found other ways to be intimate that you both enjoyed. As Katakuri got closer, you hurriedly removed your dress and panties. 

Now it was his turn to use you. 

He placed his large cock against your stomach, your legs spread around it and the tip resting between your breasts. You pressed your tits together and Katakuri started to thrust, his cock rubbing up against your whole body, balls hitting your thighs and ass.  

Being so overwhelmed by his massive length and the stimulation of it rubbing against your clit and nipples, you could do nothing but moan and roll your eyes back. Soon your chest was getting smeared with precum and Katakuri picked up his pace, groaning deeply.  

You brought your hands up and rubbed them along his shaft as he went, making his moans near whines. In this position it didn’t take long for Katakuri to finish and you could tell by the way his body tensed that he was close.  

You tightened your spread thighs around his cock and moaned out his name. Soon enough, his hot seed was shooting out of him and all over your chest and face. His cock slid off of you and he pulled back, panting as he looked you over.  

You were a sexed-up mess, but you didn’t care. The way he gazed at you like you were a goddess made your heart warm. 

As you came down from your high and you were able to take in your current state, a smile spread across your face once more. 

“Well, I don’t think I can show up to your birthday party looking like this.” 

Katakuri hid himself in his scarf in embarrassment.  

future

to teach a captain - part 3 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: “You want to kiss, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you. You could only respond with one thing: "So, what if I do?"

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, kissing, luffy is a curious guy, reader is a member of the straw hat crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, no spoilers, no use of y/n

A/n: the ao3 crowd waited half a year for me to post this part, so parts after this will chug along slowly, just wanted to warn you ahead of time! hopefully the length of this helps. posted on ao3 here

words: 8.1k (very long, whoops)

--------------------------

The rest of the night went as follows.

Chopper finally catches up to you after the crew settles into the Sunny. His chipperness never faltered when you tell him you feel better than earlier. Still, he insisted on a late-night check-up. Other than an elevated heartbeat, he gave you a clean bill of health and sent you on your way. 

You took a peak in the small bag Robin gave you, largely ignoring Nami’s. You softly grimace, seeing the new bottle of lube lying on top of the other shopping list of things you ask her to get beforehand.

You couldn't go to sleep for the better half of the night. Every time you thought of what transpired only a few hours ago, your breathing started getting heavy, your mind was racing, and you just felt like squealing. 

It was half past four when you finally went to sleep. You don’t particularly enjoy sleeping in, but when you woke up this morning and saw the time read past 11 am, you welcomed it…

…Up until you realized why exactly you slept in so late.

After a fresh change of clothes, you reluctantly get on deck. As you feel the smooth wooden planks of the Sunny under your feet, you’re overcome with an increasing perplexion. 

The Sunny is still at the dock of Tashini. If we had followed Nami’s schedule she set yesterday, we would’ve left in the early morning. Tashini would’ve been a small dot across the horizon at this point. 

You feel an even deeper pit of your stomach spiral when you see no sign of life, which means everybody’s gathered in the kitchen and dining room, currently having lunch. Alongside your crewmates, smack dab in the middle, will be Luffy.

Your heart thumps as you reach the door to the dining room, swinging it open like usual. The Straw Hat crew sits around the table, collectively turning to the archway when they see you. All have a smile on their face and a greeting on their tongue. Sanji, once setting a big platter of shrimp scampi in the middle of the crowded table, frolics over to you and sings your name.

“Ahh angel, you’re awake,” he sings. “Just in time for lunch.”

You greet him like usual, running your eyes over Nakama until your body erupts in butterflies again.

Your eyes meet Luffy’s, feeling your heart crack against your chest at the immediate eye contact. He gives you a toothy grin. 

“Good morning!” Luffy says. Before you can stutter out a response, Ussop pipes up.

“Hey, now.” Nami points at you. “You’re not wearing any of the new stuff I gave you.” She gives you a playful frown.

“Ah, sorry about that, it was a long night last night,” You sigh, purposefully trying to divert Luffy’s eyes. “Chopper, said I’m fine at least. Speaking of which, why are we still at dock?”

“Well, I may have a surprise waiting for everybody, I was just waiting for the last person to join us.”

You nod, going to take a seat. Brook tells you to sit down next to him and Chopper, playfully tapping an empty spot at the table. Chopper smiles at you, glad you look better than last night. 

“Aaand with that, everybody’s here!” Nami says, paper in hand. “Time to announce the next island and lookout parties for tonight…”

While Nami is talking off the paper she has in her hands, you settle down and join in on digging into the beautiful array of dishes. There’s fluffy white rice, shrimp scampi with a fragrant green sauce, lovely cut fruits that Sanji got from Tashini, and more meat to compliment Luffy’s hungry appetite. White rice is the first thing you go for, feeling the squishy texture as soon as you dig into it. 

“That means our next destination will be Dracon. Now,–”

“Dracon?” The word comes out before you have the chance to think about it. You pause, letting your fork drop some rice you just dished out. You try to clean up the mess without anyone noticing.

Nami, including the others, turn to you. “Yes, do you know it?” The navigator asks.

“Oh, ah.” You search your brain, trying to come up with an explanation for your reaction. “I’m not sure, it’s been a while since… working for my home country.”

“From what you’ve told us, you used to be a diplomat before, yes?” Robin asks from across the table. You nod.

“I had to travel a lot, and there are islands I remember going to, but I don’t quite recall visiting Dracon. I’m not sure—at least, I have no memories of the name in terms of my diplomatic work,” You shrug unassuredly.

“I’ll keep note of that,” Nami states, scribbling something down.

Nami moves on to some unrelated housekeeping items, though something feels so familiar that you can’t shrug it off. You feel off about the whole thing, yet not enough to notify the crew.

Now, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the table. They’re soft in their demeanor, yet concerned in your sudden tenseness. You look over to them, to see Luffy with his head slightly tilted. He’s looking straight back at you while shoving a slab of meat in his mouth. You can’t find it in yourself to look away at his calming face, but all you remember is Luffy panting, pleading with you as his hand found purchase on your shoulder, face so close to yours as he moaned–

“Uhh, excuse me…” Brook nudges your arm, making you snap forward and see Nami leaning over the table, waving her hand in front of your face. 

“Hey, are you listening?” She asks.

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, uh…” You cringe, “what was that again?”

Nami sighs, slapping your head with the rolled-up paper from across the table.

“You and Luffy will be on watch for the first shift tonight. Make sure to wake up Zoro and Sanji for the shift after, okay?”

“R-right, got it.” You nod, hoping the heat from your face isn’t noticeable.

“You got that, Luffy?” Nami turns to Luffy now, chunks of ham disappearing from his hand into his mouth. Luffy manages to say a jumbled yup between food scarfs.

“I can’t believe you paired me up with brow-for-brains, Nami.” Zoro scoffs, digging into his next bite. You all look to Sanji, or well, where he used to be. He’s now standing over Zoro with a menacing figure.

“Shut it, mosshead. Don’t blame Nami for your incompetence.”

“Huh?!” 

Ussop makes a point to sigh loudly, muttering something about “some weaklings will never learn,” whatever that means in Ussop-speak.

Before a fight breaks out at the dinner table, Nami gives a threatening scowl that separates the two.

“I will reiterate this as I did with a few of you earlier: As you know, we were meant to set sail this morning to the next island. How ever,” Nami says with a smirk, “I thought it would be a nice change of pace for all of us to go to a theater tonight, and then set sail after.”

“A theater? What’s that, a game?” Zoro raises an eyebrow. 

From the other side of the room, Sanji loudly sighs “ Idiot ,” causing the pair to grit their teeth at each other like wild animals. At this point, they are too caught up with each other to pay attention to the conversation.

“I’ve heard of that,” Franky says, “Isn’t that where people perform a story on a stage?” 

Robin nods. “It’s not something you see around the sea often.”

“How inspiring,” Brook gleams next to you. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about.”

“I’m guessing we’ll have immunity there?” Jimbei asks.

Nami nods, “With a bit of persuasion, I was able to get a personal booth at the top of the theater with a promise that we’ll be protected as long as we don’t do anything.

“Her ‘persuasion’ was swooning the staff that we ran into while shopping last night.” Robin chimes in, causing Nami to smirk in triumph. 

“Hey, a cheap meal and show is a steal.” Nami counters. “I spent a quarter of what I spent on our girl’s new wardrobe on this opportunity, and that’s even with the bargaining I had to do.”

You choke on your glass of water hearing Nami’s words.

“How much did you spend on me?!”

“As long as you wear them, you don’t need to know,” Nami assures you with a sly grin. “Giving you a good sense of fashion is payment enough.”

A guttural groan comes out of you as you shake your head.

“I will, I will. Just— please don’t charge me this time.” You say to Nami, who seems to grant you mercy with a nod.

The crew laughs at your exchange. Ussop is yakking it up to Jinbei and Franky about how he used to be a “connoisseur of theater” in his day. At the end of the table, Luffy waves his hand to flag Sanji.

“More please!”

–

Nami instructed everyone to dress accordingly for the play. To be honest, you didn’t know what to wear until after looking in the clothing bag she gave you. Maybe you shouldn’t have, because you find a dress inside that works almost too well for tonight. 

“Perfect, it’s the one I picked,” Nami says when you shimmy it on. She and Robin have already gotten ready, Robin has now gone to join the others on deck.

“You planned this?” You’re surprised as you look at her through the girls’ mirror. You had just finished zipping up the deep rouge silk dress. There was ruching in the bodice that gave your silhouette more form than you’re used to seeing, hem peaking right above your knees. 

She makes her way to the dresser where you’re sitting. “You should appreciate a good dress more than once in a while. We always have plenty of days besides celebrations to wear them, after all.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You think about it. Robin and Nami always outdo you in style, probably because they treat every day like a fashion statement.

“You look sexy in a shirt and pants anyway.” Nami makes a dumb kissy face as you giggle and push her off. She beckons you to the door. “C’mon, everybody’s waiting.”

When you leave the girls’ dorm, you can see everybody has cleaned up rather nicely. Sanji his usual suave attire, Robin and Nami are dressed to the nines, and each of the others has a flare of fashion. 

Thump. Thump.

Luffy was no different. He wears a black tie and crisp red dress shirt tucked into belted slacks. The dress shirt was slightly pulled up because of his goofing off with Ussop and Chopper. Chopper is on his head doing birdarms as Luffy runs around the dock. Ussop chimes in with an airy bird call that dies out pretty quickly.

Everybody turns around to you and Nami when she closes the door behind her. You hear an ‘ooooo’ around some of the crew as Ussop wolf-whistles.

“You ladies look so lovely!” Sanji cries.

“Ah, my, you’re a charmer,” Brook says to you, bowing deeply. “It would be such an honor to see your p–” Yup, you’re tuning that out.

“Hah! I think the girls super outdid us again.” Franky laughs as he poses. Jinbei seems to nod in agreement.

You blush at their compliments, seeing Chopper and Luffy now turn to look at you. Luffy is the only one not smiling, mouth agape and it makes you a little sad to see. If you wanted anyone to smile, you would’ve wanted it to be him.

“Our girl finally gets to dress, am I right? Now, I think that’s everyone!” Nami comments to the group, “Let’s head out!”

You arrive at a large building bustling with people under a tall hall archway. The whole inside seems illuminated in a soft yellow glow, with torches decorating the exterior walls. Nami and Robin led the pack to a side door, where a group of staff were waiting for you all. You’re briskly taken to a private entrance. It leads to a modest open room with a wide U-shaped booth that spans to either side of the wall, a large tray full of decadent foods in the middle, and an open window that showcases the lowered, grand stage a hundred feet away.

Everybody seems pleased to sit down and get situated, especially Luffy. He takes the part of the booth closer to the open space, objectively a great view, as the rest of you file in. He digs into the trays of complimentary food before you even think to sit.

You end up sitting next to Zoro and Jinbei on either side of you, pleased to be within arms reach of some fresh fruit on the tray. It doesn’t take long for the stage lights to dim and for the show to start. 

It ends up being a fairly detailed story about a knight and his quest to save the heroine, a fellow knight, after they got separated in a battle between countries. There is plenty of humor that the audience and the crew laugh along to. At one point, the knight has to dress as a stuffy aristocrat to pass into the country that captured her and prepare for her execution. Usopp had cheered especially at this as everybody laughed it up. Just before she was scheduled to be beheaded, the hero stepped in and acted as a country nobleman turned war veteran, using his many past achievements of slaying warlocks and beasts to convince the guardsmen to release her. They end up running away on horseback to the country they fought for. Once unsaddled, the heroine finally confronts him.

“You… you came to save me?” The heroine asks, tears laddled in her eyes, almost in disbelief at the hero, her friend’s, bravery. “Why would you do something so risky?”

“I can’t be on the battlefield without you.” The hero falls to the ground to kneel in front of her, taking her hands into his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Won’t you be mine, my knightess?”

“You stupid man. Is that even a question?” She cries out, running into his arms.

They lovingly embrace after the crowd cheers, many of the Straw Hats whooping in celebration. You’re almost thankful you didn’t sit near Franky, as you could practically hear him sob out into a snotty, rather tear-packed mess. You almost feel bad to see Chopper is in his range of fire.

When they finally pull away from each other, the hero steps towards the heroine once more, taking her head in her hands and kissing her passionately. Her arms wrapped around him after a moment of surprise at the gesture, letting him dip her into a warm, lingering hold. Your heart flits at the sight as you join the audience’s cheers and awes. 

Amidst the loud celebration, you realize the scene before you feel reminiscent. As the pair kiss on stage, you think of how you were in a similar position with Luffy not long ago, tasting his lips. Though, the fashion you two were in was more… sensual. Your face flares up. 

You turn to the other side of the room. Luffy’s shadow is clear in the illumination of theater lights, and you see his figure shift as he raises his arm. He lifts his fingers up to his face in what you could only think of as… a yawn? Maybe boredom?

No. He touches his lips softly, grazing them along the skin before looking down at them with curiosity.

You turn away quickly when you notice his head swivel, spinning around the crew members until he stops at you. A pair of eyes is now settled in your direction as you feel your heart pick up speed. You felt him stare at you between the food platters now littered with bones and stems, before the crew joined the audience in a standing ovation. You tuck yourself away from Luffy’s averting eyes as you stand behind Jinbei, shortly overshadowed by every pair of hands now erupting in applause. You clap extra loud, hooked onto the stage to watch the start of the curtain call. When you finally feel the courage to look amongst the crew, you feel the absence of a few eyes that turn back to the stage.

The crew ends the night as normal with a round of drinks before slowly filing out of the theater and towards the ship. You pace alongside Franky, Robin, and Nami. Franky has his robust arm around Robin, laughing along while Nami and you talk about the wonderful experience. Before your mind filters out the thoughts of earlier, a pair of rubbery arms snaps behind you all before Luffy’s figure catapults to the ship at the dock.

–

Nervous blood bubbles in your veins when you’re on your watch shift. 

From the crow's nest at the top of the mast. The saltiness of the ocean breeze isn’t as apparent on the shoreline, but you still smell the tanginess of ocean algae mixed with the earthy scents of the sandy dock. 

You’ve been glancing every so often towards the rear of the ship, wondering when you’ll be able to spot Luffy’s black, messy hair walking along the deck under the moonlight. Maybe he’s tucked at the rear, but it’s hard to tell from the top of the mast without craning your head. You’re not brave enough to check in detail at this point. 

While you think about your watch shift partner that gets more and more late, you think about what else was said around that dinner table.

Earlier, Nami announced the next stop is Dracon, an island that sounds too familiar to be a coincidence. You’ve been to a lot of places in your life before joining the Strawhats, but it’s been so long since that you're not exactly sure. If your home country had any notable affairs with them, surely you would’ve remembered dealing with it. The question was, was it positive affairs, or would you have trouble soon? You don’t have a good feeling about that name, even if you wish for the former. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

Turning around, you’re met with your smiley captain, his grin upturned ear-to-ear. You look to the moon, and judging from the position, it seems that…

“An hour late, Luffy. And you didn’t change out of those clothes.”

Luffy smiles in response. His tie is undone, hanging around his neck as one side threatens to slip off. The deep red button-up shirt is now completely untucked, hanging loosely past his hips. Some of the top buttons are now undone and loosely shifting under the chilled breeze. His hat is hanging by the string around his neck, resting quietly on his back.

“Sorry.” He doesn't look that sorry.

“It’s fine,” you waved him off, “nothing suspicious happened out here.” Unsurprisingly, not many people dare to approach the infamous Thousand Sunny. Certainly, no one is strong enough to succeed in plunder, anyway.

You look at him again after a moment, heart thumping when you see he’s not moving to climb out of the crow's nest.

“You can go to your lookout now.” When you try to casually say that, your nervous shift practically blows your cover, though you're not sure if it’s noticed.

Luffy hums a noncommittal sound as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I wanna stay.”

“Why?” 

He shrugs, pouting his lip a little at the question. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Fine,” You conceded. It wouldn't be the first time Luffy would bend the rules during watch. “Let’s at least watch the nest to cover ground.”

Luffy nods, following your step as you start walking around the edge of the nest by each window, looking out for any activity. Your partner, unsurprisingly, doesn’t care to watch, walking with you as you make small circles in the nest. At one point, Luffy jumps on the seats lined against the walls, matching your pace as he whistles quite brashly. You carry on like that for a while, watching all parts of the horizon and shoreline of Tashini. You’re not surprised to see any signs of life at this time of night. 

After a few times of Luffy almost losing his balance, he joins your side, loudly stomping his sandals on the dock as he kicks his feet forward.

“Man, I liked that Theodore a lot!” Luffy says. 

Your face scrunches up in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means until you can only deduce one thing.

“You mean… theater?”

“Teeter?”

“ Theater.”

“Oh, tea-eater!”

“Yeah, that.” You couldn't help but giggle at him. “What did you like about it?”

He chuckles, reaching back to the straw hat and swiftly squashing it on top of his black hair.

“Man, it was great! There was so much yummy food to eat, and it was funny when the knight guy made all those silly faces to sneak around!”

His hands are behind his hand as he throws his head back into it, looking wherever as he talks about all the different aspects he likes. Luffy talks about the color of the clothes he liked and the way he laughed at the things that had the audience roaring. You idly listen, agreeing to his list, not paying attention to your watch shift duties anymore.

“I think the girl knight who got captured was kinda stupid. She didn’t scream or kick when she was locked up!” Luffy says.

“Would you have kicked and screamed instead?” 

“I would’ve never gotten caught!” Luffy laughs out. “But if I did, I would at least fight back. She could’ve easily saved herself from the guards if she did that!”

“I think her being the helpless lady in need of saving was a part of the story, it made it more dramatic. For the knight, it made saving her more high stakes.” You think out loud.

“If she’s a knight, she’s strong enough to fight back and get out by herself.” He turns to you. “Right?” 

That makes sense to you, but what doesn’t is the way Luffy looks at you. He’s looked at you with that cheerful expression thousands of times before, but now you feel a hammer from your heartbeat. His chest muscles barely peek out in the moonlight under that silky button-up, and his tie is so, so close to slipping now.

You reach out before thinking, stepping up to Luffy and catching the end of the tie right before it falls off of his narrow shoulders. You promptly adjust the tie so it's balanced around his neck, no longer threatening to fall off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You surmise. Honestly, Luffy makes sense. In his scarce moments of clarity, he always speaks with an astounding factuality. 

His smile fades as he looks into both of your eyes. The proximity of you two is now very apparent, but you're struggling to find yourself creating distance, struggling to keep your hands off of the edges of his tie.

“I–”

“I want to learn how to kiss!” Luffy announces loudly.

You sucked in a breath that catches in your throat, rather badly, and feel a cough fumble out of your mouth. You try to save face but find yourself awkwardly grasping onto your shirt and in the air for some stability. 

“I’m sorry, I’m surprised you know what it’s called,” you say after gaining enough breath.

Luffy gives you a frown and crosses his arms. “I know what kissing is. I’m not dumb.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I just…” You kick yourself in your mind. “What brought this up?”

Luffy shrugs, looking out the nest’s windows onto the oceanline. The moonlight illuminates his face crisply through one of the windows, but you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking.

“Was it the theater?” You ask him.

He looks back at you without moving his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“They did what we did. I wanna know how to do that.” 

“With… me?” You blink.

“Yup!”

You feel the thrumming of your heart in your veins, beating at his words. “It's pretty simple, you should know based on the first time we did,” you say. You try to stuff down your elation as best as possible, but you know your face is warming just like it did last night. 

“I wasn’t paying attention!”

“You should have been! You were there, you know-?!”

“You want to, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you.

“So, what if I do?” You say, a bit annoyed at his correct assumption. “You already know what to do, plus, we have to be on watch right now!” You gesture with your arms held out open in a reminder of why you’re both here. 

“I have Haki!” Luffy says with a childish pout. “If anyone comes I’ll know. I’ll beat them up.”

You frown at him, again seeing how easily your captain can push to get his way. It feels even redundant for you to be on watch if Luffy has enough Observation Haki to detect anything suspicious.

“Just one.” He grumbles. “I just want one.”

You know this feeling. The cocoons that were once hibernating in your stomach have hatched into butterflies, now violently beating against your gut. The small crush you had has transpired into an infatuation. An annoying infatuation. The current predicament you’re in is…

Tricky.

Luffy doesn’t seem to be interested in you like that. You know he just wants a lesson again—for his own purposes. But, can you find it in you to deny him of something that you’ve been thinking about, even before last night?

“Okay,” You sigh, hand waving up and down. “Stand up, then.”

Luffy stands up straight like a spring, smiling brightly at another victory. He is giddy from excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, yet he waits for your next words of wisdom.

“I guess the best way to describe it is… there’s not any set rules for this. To kiss, at least one person is needed, you put your lips together like this,” you make a small pout, “and lean into the object of affection that you want to kiss.” 

You demonstrate by taking the back of your hand, looking at Luffy when you pout your lips, and gently placing them on the back of your hand. When you purse your lips and pull away, the contact makes a small smooch noise.

“Here,” you raise the back of your hand you kissed, holding it up to Luffy. “Try it.”

Luffy looks at your hand curiously before he leans in and he pouts his lips like you did. He presses his lips to your hand with the pressure of a feather until he briefly, brashly presses it down and lifts his head. It reminded you of the peck of a bird, almost. In the process, he opens his mouth to make a small smack.  

“Like that, got it? …why are you frowning?”

“That’s not what I want,” Luffy says. “I want to kiss like they did.” 

Why are you not shocked a hand kiss would be enough.

“To do that, both parties usually lean in for a kiss together. If it’s something that both people want to do, the rest should come naturally.”

“And they did this,” Luffy says, holding his arms and shaking them around to poorly mimic the embrace the two on stage did. 

“C’mere.” 

You take the ends of his tie, pulling him a step towards you until your bodies are inches away, the straw hat barely grazing the top of your forehead. Luffy lets you easily, watching you with gentle focus. You guide his hands around your middle. You lightly rest your hands on top of his shoulders. You hear a soft swallow. 

“When you want, you lean in. Once our lips touch, you close your eyes. Ready?” You ask. He nods. 

“Okay, just follow me.”

You lean in halfway, slowly, softly pursuing your lips together as your eyes flutter shut, nervousness bubbling up your body until your head feels light. You let it try and fizzle, try to let the stupid pounding of your heart quiet down in your eardrums, but it’s slowly replaced to wonder when your lips stay untouched by Luffy. 

…and, still nothing?

When you open your eyes, Luffy is staring at you, face reddened like a cherry with his mouth agape. His eyes are fixed in awe, flicking between your eyes and lips.

“Sorry, I,” Luffy stutters. “‘S weird. My body… it’s not moving.”

The weird feeling in your stomach has bubbled up again. His flustered cheeks and sheepish smile are quickly blocked from your vision as he mumbles into the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know. It’s like, l-like I don’t deserve it, or somethin’. Haha…”

Overcome with affection for the blushing captain, you quickly close the gap. You want to steal away his anxieties, steal away that flustered nervousness you couldn’t bare to see on him. It takes him only a second to process it before his muscles relax against you. 

Your lips touch his gently. His hands rest on your waist, his straw hat lifting oh-so-slightly by your forehead as you press into him. Those narrow lips of his feel so plush against yours, perfectly slotted together that you feel light and airy. It lasts just as long as last night’s chaste kiss.

When you slowly pull away with a small smooch noise, his face doesn’t look as cherried, save for a light pink tinge across the apples of his cheeks. 

“Cool!” Luffy says, “Let me try!”

“Hold on, I said only once–”

He gains the courage this time to lean wholly, trapping your lips between his thinner ones, feeling the smile etched on his face the whole time. When you pull away, he seems almost back to normal. The lingering worry on his face is gone now.

Smooch!

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Luffy said. “It’s really good. Again. Let’s do it again.”

You both lean in this time, lifting the brim of his straw hat again. His hands naturally graze down to your waist while your hands lay on his chest. His lips aren’t as chapped as you thought they would be. For a guy, they seem very soft. Not in the way that regular skin should be, but more pliable. It squishes against your lips but seems to spring back to form each time you pull back. 

Smooch!

“Again.” 

You both lean in again, as your hands explore past the partially unbuttoned shirt to his chest. Your suspicions of rubbery skin are confirmed as you feel the softness, malleable, that bounces back when you release the pressure of your fingertips. 

Smooch!

“Again.”

After slotting your lips back on his, you swallow down a whine, busying yourself with the feeling of his body against yours, his hands so subtly stroking the small of your spine just above your ass. This time, the straw hat slips off of his head and falls to his back.

A noise of frustration escapes him as he squirms.

“Do what you did last time,” he whines. “Your hands. Like you did yesterday.”

“So you were paying attention, liar.” You grimace. He smiles in response, just like a guilty captain would.

Yet, you have no qualms threading our fingers in his hair, grabbing the tufts together a little too excitedly. You dive back to his mouth to claim his lips. This time, his eyes close in tandem with yours as he slips his hands up and down your torso, kneading the flesh, leaning his body against yours. You absentmindedly feel the fluffy, soft black hair under your fingertips, running your hands through the scalp as Luffy presses his lip to yours. 

“I think,” Luffy breaks the kiss, speaking so close his lips are still grazing yours, “you have magic fingers.”

“Yeah?” You giggle for the first since you’ve started kissing him, making his face light up.

You turn his head slightly to give him a small peck on the cheek, he tries to copy you by stretching his head to yours and planting a quick, hard kiss.

“And you smell familiar.” He says softly. So unnaturally soft for the rubber man that it makes your face burn.

“What do I smell like?” You whisper.

“Like a cabin.”

You giggle. “Okay? Any cabin in particular?”

“Makino’s cabin. Back where I grew up.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Luffy thinks about it. After a moment, he gives you a big nod as if sealing the thought in his mind. 

“Yes,” he smiles.

“That’s nice of you to say, Luffy.” 

He seems to like that compliment. To which he smiles very brightly, now kissing you with a newfound passion that you find attractive.

Okay, like, really fucking hot. 

Luffy smushes your face between his palms and plants kisses any place he can think of. From the lids of your eyes to your temples, to the bow of your nose, and all the parts of your cheeks that squish into his lips when he puts extra pressure. Each time he leaves a small, wet smooch behind, a sound he seems captivated by the more he kisses you. 

“It’s really good.” He murmurs into your skin. 

His arms reach out and grip the back of your neck, almost pulling you closer despite the fact your chest couldn’t press farther. His heavy-handed presence causes you to shuffle a little. 

“Luffy…” You sigh out. You really can’t take it without needing more. You pull away from him; something he doesn’t seem happy about, illustrated by the childish pout he has on his face.

“There’s one more type of kiss we can do.” You whisper breathlessly. 

“Really, what’s that?” Luffy asks. You brush over his lips, noses lightly connected as you whisper to him.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

You lean into him once more, but now slowly opening up your mouth to have your tongue slip out. You run it over Luffy’s thin lips before running against the entrance. After a moment, Luffy opens his mouth, tongue slowly peaking out past his lips to meet yours. 

You swear there is electricity in the air when it happens because he moans again. Whimpers from the sensation as his hands jolt around the caressed skin. 

Your tongues dance together in shared bliss, Luffy shudders against you at the feeling, grabbing your body like he’s surprised by the feeling. 

Luffy knew how bad you wanted to do this—he said himself—but, he must not know the extent, really. 

Because with every kiss, it just leads to more wanton in you. With every graze of his tongue against yours, feeling the wet muscle that tastes of meat, it makes your breath feel like magma. The noises coming from sucking and tasting his tongue slicks into the dead of night. It’s the only noise ringing in your ears save for the small whimpers and sighs coming from both of you. He despreately brushes his fingers against the sides of your face as his chest tightens, and grows still.

“Breathe through your nose.” You tell him after Luffy starts to turn blue in the face. His breath to hitch, the air exhaled back down your throat hot and wet.  He instantly returns to color, now with a revived energy. 

You can’t take it, him exploring and prodding the inside of your mouth, him gripping and almost vibrating against you as your upper bodies press together. You wrap your arms over his shoulder, permanently sewing your finger pads with that soft hair.

“Ah…” A small moan comes out of Luffy’s mouth when you tug on his hair to tilt his head up and off of yours. You dive in with false expertise as you give wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, consuming the skin until you’ve covered it all. You move to his neck, making him grunt as you pull his head back to expose it in full. Your tongue slowly sweeps down and over until it lands on his jugular, sweetly sucking it now as he gasps. The breathiness turns into a grunt of what sounds like frustration and he riggles against the feeling. 

“I think something’s wrong again,” Luffy says, face knit together. You pull off of him in concern.

“Do you need me to stop–”

“No!” He says, grabbing both sides of your head. His eyes fire wide as he grabs in panic. 

In his expression, he shoves you forward so hard you lose your footing, tumbling down with him onto the planks. You both fall into each other before he scrambles on top of you. 

“What’s wrong, Luffy?” You say, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” He says, “But… every time I try to think about it, this happens!” His hand dives in between the two of you before hastily grabbing onto the hem of his shirt and pulling it so high his whole chest shows. When your eyes travel down, you see his problem. 

“It’s why I was late! I couldn’t make it go away even when I touched it like you showed me to!”

“Oh.” 

A breath catches in your throat as your eyes adjust under the moonlight. With his other hand, he points crudely to a large bulge now prominent under his pants. 

“Can you show me what I did wrong?” He breathlessly whispers. 

“Y-you did it like last night?” You prop yourself by your arms as he kneels over you. 

“Yeah. It didn’t feel as good, though. Used half of some bottle in the kitchen.”

Luffy shuffles a hand into the underside of his pants, rustling into his boxers until he grips the erection trapped inside. You swallow as he takes his dick, quickly slipping it out.

“You sneaked into the pantry?” And he’s still slick from it. The tip of his penis glistens from the lubricant, as well as the pre-cum now leaking from it. You should be upset on Sanji's behalf that he allegedly used half the bottle of what youf guess is oil from the kitchen, but the view of his dick was too appealing for you to care.

“It kinda hurt without it,” Luffy said. You don’t blame him, mostly thankful for its convenience.

“I can show you then, Luffy,” you whisper, “you can start when you want.”

He beams, bright and contagious, as he grabs onto the head. Without any guidance, he begins to pump himself with an arm propping himself over you. You don’t dare to mention the intimate space he's invading for fear he’ll back off of you. With proximity, you get to see more of his movements, his facial features, and the heat behind his breath.

His face scrunches up in his first initial strokes before easing into a steady rhythm, similar to the brisk pace he kept last night. His hand lingers on the base and shaft, quickly running over the head each time. You could hear the light, moist squelching of oil rubbing against his cock.

“Ah, this is familiar,” Luffy says. 

“Better than earlier?”

“I did this earlier, but it didn’t feel this good.” 

“You did it the same way?” You ask in confusion. 

“I guess.” He shrugs. “I think you help me. This is really fun,” Luffy huffs out.

Luffy’s confession astonishes you. To know you can help him, to know that you and you only have made Luffy experience this, it makes you burn up in lust. 

“Shit, Luffy, you sound so good saying that.” 

You want to reach up and touch him, graze down his body with wonderful kisses, and feel the heat against each inch of skin. You feel your hand inch in front of you to reach up to his face, but when you lift it, Luffy jerks into himself so sporadically that your fingers are caught in the crossfire. 

He’s loud when your hand suddenly fumbles onto his shaft. The feeling of surprise is mutual as you look deeply into one another. His mouth opened, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Please,” Luffy doesn’t need to say anything else, his fingers hastily interlocking with yours as he lowers them. 

“Touch me like this.”

Your face feels on fire, his hands feel steady and laced with yours as you both grasp his shaft together. He whimpers in delight, satisfied with the new warmth of your hand wrapped with his.

It’s so erotic, so sensual, his shaft feels so hot with the slick of oily lubricant and pre-cum meshing in the crevices of both of your fingers now when you start fisting him. He shudders into you in pleasure, head lulling back and forth like a wave, chasing his highs and mellowing into lows. A wrinkle in between his eyebrows shapes off and on when he bucks out. The moistness of his lips attracts you again, how could you deny the savory taste of Luffy in front of you?

Your lips latch onto him, licking up the saliva awaiting from his drooling mouth. Teeth click together from the intensity you both kiss each other. It’s wild, and uncoordinated, you try to follow the beat of his pace while he desperately chases your tongue after each moan. 

His mouth in combination with his erection, hand, his fingers squeezing into yours as you stroke him. His dick felt firm in your grip, textured with small veins illuminated by the moon. Every time his hand slipped past his shaft, you would help guide him back as quickly as possible, and every time he would thrust his hips forward to compensate. 

“You look so needy like this, but you can’t help it, can you? Such a gorgeous look on your face, so sweet and filthy, hm?” You coo. Something in you adds a little more pressure to his dick stoking down the base. Something that Luffy finds quite enjoyable. It gives you so much gratification to see that lustful, desperate face, that you try something sinful.

“Why don’t you tell me how this feels?” With your one hand interlocked with his, you take your other and dive past Luffy’s leaking erection. You cup his ballsack, feeling the thin skin molding into your hand until you rub up against it.

“Ah!” His head bucks forward into the crook of your shoulder. He’s shaking from the pleasure of it. “So good. So good, I—ahhn!”

You fondle his balls under the breakneck pace of strokes into his cock. The smooth flesh is nothing like his pulsing, steel penis. You inch lower down to the underside of the sack and slowly stroke under until Luffy reduces to nothing but animalistic husks.

“Be as loud as you need to, Luffy.” You rasp. “You can do that for me, can’t you? A good boy like you can do it.”

And just like that, your words seem to coax something in him, because he grips your fingers harder with his, pumping himself into a devious pace, and moaning wildly in between his pants.

Puffs of warmth exhale from his lips, the heat between you two can’t be penetrated by any icy chill of the night air. You feel enveloped in him, in your lust and passion, you can hear his every bit of pleasure, every pump of his dick, and the way the sound of his pants is magnetized with his head tucked to your ear. 

My God, he’s drooling in ecstasy down your neck. You feel the wetness trail like sweat down your flesh.

“Nnn, ahh, ‘s coming out. I can feel it.” Luffy whimpers into your skin. His voice sounds rasped from his panting

“Why don’t you cum then, my captain?” You take the liberty to nip on the skin of his neck. It’s something small, but one that causes his whole body to jolt.

“Mmmph!”

That look. He’s so close to release that he’s completely hunched over you. There’s barely any space for you to stroke his pulsing dick, but you continue regardless. His voice is the only thing you can hear on the ear he’s crushed up against. 

But you don’t get that liberty of him cumming onto you again, however. In your other ear, you hear something alert enough for you to slow your strokes down.

You hear a faint shout from the deck of the Sunny as a familiar voice calls out the two of your names. Your body freezes.

“Luffy, shit, Luffy!”

“Hm?” Dazed and sublime, Luffy has half a mind to hear the panic in your tone. 

“Oiiii!” Says the voice, one that sounds so quiet, but it’s loud enough for you to tell who it is.

With a push you’ll soon regret, you shove him off of you onto his butt, scurrying to sit up.

“It’s the next shift!”

“Ah… so?”

“Get up,” You squeak, pulling Luffy's pants back up, much to his dismay. “Put it away!”

“What?! Why?”

“I told you why yesterday, just do it!” You zip his pants but up against the now trapped erection, and Luffy groans out.

Both of you try to get up at once—Luffy in agitation, you in alarm that his button-up is falling down his shoulder and he looked fucked out of his mind—but you bash your heads together. The clunk is so solid that you double down on the floor. You yelp out in pain, looking up from the corner of your eye to see Luffy’s standing up just fine. 

Of course. Of course he doesn’t feel how hard you collided into each other, the fucking rubber man. 

Quitely, you hear someone. 

“Oiiii, you never woke us up. Is everything okay?” That voice gets louder with each rung of the ladder of the crow’s nest until the latch is lifted. 

Coming from the opening is a mop of blonde hair followed by a mossy green. You freeze, whipping your head to see the state of Luffy. His face is slate, like nothing was happening, and…

What the fuck?

There’s no more bulge in his pants. 

You can’t think of it too hard, with the throbbing pain seeping into your head as your adrenaline creeps down.

“Oi,” Zoro gets up, looking back and forth between you two. “The hell happened here.”

“Ah! My angel, you’re hurt?” Sanji yelped in alarm, “You had me so worried. We were calling out for some time and didn’t hear anything back. And you’re sweating bad…” He kneels to your form glued to the ground, pointing to your neck ladened with Luffy’s drool, looking back at Luffy who was awkwardly standing close with no motion. “Hey, shithead, the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothin’, she was just showing me something.”

You don’t know if those two believe him. With the horrid poker face Luffy typically has in a lie, you can’t bare to look up and confirm it. You rub your head on the ground. 

“I just… bumped my head.” You groan.

He looks back at Luffy, then at you.

“Oh, dear, please go back down and sleep as much as you need, me and moss shit can take care of the rest, okay?”

“Who the hell are you calling moss shit, kitchen boy?”

Yeah, you’re getting the hell out of here before dumbbells are thrown.

Once you get the bearings to look up from the pain, you see the lemon-lime pirates gnawing their teeth at each other. From a glimpse, a straw hat dips down below the crow’s nest latch and disappears. 

You feel a small force compelling you to chase that hat, the man attached to it, that you ignore the masculine catfight beside you and follow it. 

You climb down the mast to the deck of the Sunny and hear your feet knock onto the deck. 

You see Luffy leaning against the dock next to the boys’ dorm, looking out for a moment before latching his eyes on you. You’re glad to see him. He doesn’t seem to be frustrated at the abrupt stop you put things.

“Hey,” Luffy calls, followed by your name.

“Hey,” you softly smile back at him. Maybe it was a little awkward. Maybe you’re distracted by the way the collar of his unbuttoned shirt is still hanging off of one shoulder, or that the shirt tie that laid around his shoulders is gone at this point. You hope it didn’t look weird to the two who came in.

Luffy rustles with the top of his straw hat. The ties of it dangle with the wind of the night.

“Thanks for that! It means a lot.” He says.

And just like that, he retreats to the boys' dorm, leaving you alone again as you make your way to your own bed. You snuggle back in bed with the girls, harboring a hardship that bounced in your head:

Damn. There’s always Nakama somewhere to walk in on you.

servant ending (red world ver.)

also on twt in @tsyuning

drawing more bb’s on Bluesky 🫃

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

Comparing Heights. Input the heights of characters to see what the different is between them. Great for keeping consistency. Free.

Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

😡

Your sixth most recent emoji is how your guardian angel feels about you

Jason & Friends

LOKI!! I love him.....