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irisintheafterglow · 7 months

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if he's a ghost, then I can be a phantom

summary: the strawhats are summoned back to baratie so sanji can cook for a high-class diner. they can't figure out why zoro is so nervous. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: swearing, mentions of food and eating, established relationship, pet names (sweetheart, doll, lover, pretty), spoilers if you squint, sanji being himself and zoro having absolutely none of it

note: this was requested by an anon a few weeks ago and i finally got around to writing it!! every time i write for zoro, i have a new favorite fic i've made because he's just so fun to write for. hope you enjoy!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

“You know, they’re a lot hotter in person.”

“Shut your mouth, waiter, or I’ll skewer it closed,” he mutters with palpable distaste. Another swig of rum burns down his throat and, for the first time that the crew can remember, Zoro seemed nervous. It wasn’t obvious, but they’d sailed long enough to know that he never stopped surveying a room for threats, no matter how familiar he was with it. Today, though, the only thing that took his attention was the rim of his glass and he was subtly avoiding the eyes of the crew’s target. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve had in a long time.”

“Thank you for your input, Zoro. I will, however, be belaying it,” his captain replies brightly, unfazed by the blank expression of his first mate. The uneasy faces of his crew only makes him beam more, giddily excited for the anticipated challenge. “C’mon, guys. We’ll be fine. They just need to see how awesome we are and they’ll totally give us a new sail!”

“Loud, loud, too loud,” Zoro warns in response to the increasing volume of Luffy’s voice. They were already causing enough of a scene, as is, and he damn sure didn’t want other guests looking in their direction. To make matters worse, the amount of alcohol in the table’s bottle was dwindling too quickly for comfort.

“Hey, if we’re lucky,” Usopp offers, “we might just get a whole ship. You know, maybe one that Captain Usopp can command as the second ship in the Straw Hat fleet.”

“You think we’ll get a whole fleet?”

“Hell yeah. Maybe, we can all captain our own ships–”

“Alright, let’s get our heads out of the clouds,” Nami cuts in. “We still need to figure out how we’re going to get over there, in the first place. And just for the record, I’m with Zoro on this one.”

“First time for everything,” he deadpans. She smartly elects to ignore his sarcasm and continues to argue why the plan is a bad idea. The call from Zeff came at an opportune time and during an unfortunate situation when the Merry sailed straight into a torrential thunderstorm that ripped the main sail clean down the middle. Despite their best efforts to patch it up, it was beyond repair; with the Marines constantly on their tail, having a working sail was a matter of survival. Zeff’s reluctant summons for Sanji to cook for a special guest provided a means to buy a new sail and have a little extra spending money. But, in his wildest dreams, Zoro could not have predicted that the special guest was you. The smug look on the chef’s face snaps him out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen, waiter?”

“Shouldn’t you be downing the rest of this bottle, drunk?”

“I’ll smash this damn bottle on your head, I swear–”

“No, no. Zoro has a point,” Luffy agrees. Sanji gives him an odd look and he quickly realizes what his statement insinuated. “Not about smashing the bottle on your head. We need you to bring them your food so then I can go over and talk with them.”

“You don’t think I can charm them on my own?”

“Don’t look so aghast, blondie,” Zoro answers and receives a knife-sharp glare in response. “This is not someone who will entertain your theatrics.”

“How would you know anything about them, hmm? I believe you’re a little too dead inside for their liking,” Sanji baits and Zoro’s on the verge of biting before Nami steps in again.

“Sanji, get in the kitchen. Let’s just get the money and get out of here.” Zoro silently thanks her in his head for effectively ridding the chef of the table for the time being. His gratitude turns into a grimace when she turns to him expectantly. “You’re gonna hate me for asking–”

“Then don’t ask,” he finishes. She doesn’t relent.

“How do you know them? It seems like you’re nervous about being here, but we’ve never met them before as a crew.” Hitting the damn nail on the head. “So, you must’ve met them when you were still hunting down pirates. Am I right?” He grumbles an unreadable response, but the slightly pink shade of his face tells the table everything they need to know. “You’re terrible at covering up secrets.”

“I don’t remember asking.”

“Ah, you’ve got him on the run, now. He’s deflecting,” Usopp chuckles, immediately shutting up when Zoro shoots him a deadly scowl. He hated that all of them were right and would never admit it to save his life. After all this time, seeing you still made his heart rate skyrocket and cause his hands to clam up with boyish nervousness. You were just as beautiful as the last time he saw you, instances that were too few and far between for his own liking. Your father would have a fit if he saw you in such an unregulated environment as Baratie, but he knew that you were safe. As long as you breathed the same oxygen, he vowed no harm would come to you.

“I met them when I first started hunting,” he admits and the words felt wrong on his tongue. Every nerve in his body was telling him to stop revealing his relationship to you. It didn’t matter if he’d almost died surrounded by his crew; his connection to you was sacred and something he was going to take to his grave. It was mostly for your safety, the late-night sneaking out and stolen displays of affection. In another life, he wouldn’t have to hide you from other hunters that wanted to see him fall. “Their father is a captain in the Marines. When I first met them, they were training with Mihawk. Their father wanted them to be the most feared Marine in the seas.” The jaws of his friends fell to the table and he knew how wild it sounded, a legacy Marine trained by a pirate lord. “But, Mihawk taught them more tricks than just swordfighting and their father fired him on the spot.”

“He taught them sympathy for pirates,” Nami concludes and he nods. “Why are you so shifty around them?” He shrugs half-heartedly and tries to make it look like his face wasn’t on fire.

“Just haven’t seen them in a while,” he states, zeroing in on the blonde asshole waltzing to you with a plate. Your surrounding guards stiffen, hands flying to the weapons at their belts. You, however, roll your eyes and tell them to stand down. He knew you hated going out with security because they were always watching, watching, watching. “Eyes up. The waiter’s making a move.”

A strange sense of nausea washes over him as he watches you smile politely at Sanji, laughing softly at his jokes and kindly nodding as he explains the dish to you. You trust them, Zoro keeps telling himself. That waiter doesn’t stand a fucking chance. All the reassurances don’t stop his gut from churning when Sanji does his signature lean-down-and-whisper-suggestively into your ear. To his surprise, however, you don’t immediately meet the chef’s eyes. Your attention flicks to Zoro, instead, with a look that he knows all too well.

Please get me out of this.

Despite the protests of the table, he’s standing in an instant and walking with his hands on his swords like your guards didn’t even exist. His sight becomes tunnel-vision on nothing but you and he bypasses your guards with ease. Your shoulders relax when he stations himself protectively behind you, much to the confusion of the chef in front of you. As subtle as he can, he rests his hand on the back of your chair, inching closer until he’s just barely touching your shoulder. It’s small, but speaks wonders for his presence.

“Zoro,” you murmur without looking up, your fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Your touch on his skin after so much time away feels electric.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Sanji stiffens at the term of endearment so easily leaving Zoro’s mouth and you can sense the boost it does for his ego. “Whatcha got there?”

“My new friend was just telling me about the dish he made. He said he crafted it especially for me, with his own hands,” you inform him with a sly sparkle in your eye. His jaw clenches unconsciously. You knew exactly what was going on in Zoro’s mind and he knew it, too. “Apparently, he can work wonders with his hands,” you remark casually and you can hear the chair crack under the force of the swordsman’s hand gripping it. To your delight, Sanji’s face has also taken on a slightly darker shade of red at how crassly you echo his suggestion. And in front of his rival, no less.

“Was he, now?” His tone is lethal and it sends goosebumps up your arms. “Well, it best be time for him to get back in the kitchen, no?”

“Mmm, but he said he had a proposal for me–”

“I had one for you too, though I did ask you in a much finer establishment than this one.” You can’t help the smirk that spreads on your face and you have to look to the side to keep from laughing aloud. Zoro’s jealousy was rearing a very indignant head; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it a little hot. “Got that stone on your left hand to prove it.” Sanji’s eyes darted to the band wrapped around your finger, a ring that looked suspiciously like the one hanging from a chain around Zoro’s neck. “Give us some time alone, yeah?” His question becomes rhetorical as he pulls out a chair next to you and tugs your seat closer until you can cross your leg across his. His palm rests possessively over your thigh and the chef gapes for a few moments more before turning back to the kitchen.

“That goes for all of you, please,” you order your guards without looking at them, absentmindedly tracing Zoro’s jawline with the back of your pointer finger. “Take my bag and buy however many drinks you want. I’m safe,” you state with absolute certainty. Once they’re gone, all you see, feel, and know is him.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile just as softly. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“I can ask you the same question, pretty.” His eyes shine with nothing but adoration. You forgot just how much you missed him.

“Took a detour to prolong my time at sea. I didn’t want to go home just yet.”

“Your old man’s being an ass again?”

“You know how he is,” you reply. “Why are you here?”

“Believe it or not, that blonde shithead is my crewmate. We’re here to get some extra Berry for a new sail.”

“Sail, hmm? I always knew you had a little pirate in you,” you tease and he sticks his tongue out immaturely. “Heard you fought my esteemed mentor. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking.”

“You don’t think I can beat him?”

“I don’t think I can fathom what will happen if you don’t,” you say quietly, swallowing a lump in your throat. “Don’t do any dumb shit, okay?”

“You’re acting as if I’m already leaving you again.”

“Aren’t you?” Your smile is sad and it makes his chest ache. When he beat Mihawk and killed your bastard father, he was going to give you the life that you deserved.

“Not yet,” he promises. “I don’t wanna go yet.”

“I don’t want you to go, either. How much do you need for that sail?” He gives you a number and you don’t even blink. You just nod and reach into your coin purse, fishing around and deciding to just give him the entire pouch. “Will that cover it?”

“Doll–”

“It’s a yes or no question, husband,” you say with lighthearted sternness. He shakes his head in exasperation but can’t hide the grin painting his features.

“Yes, lover. It’s more than enough.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you hum in contentment. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Of course. D’you mind introducing me to the rest of your crew besides the flirty waiter?”

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#zoro x you #zoro x reader #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #opla x you #opla x reader #opla x y/n #zoro fluff #opla fluff #ask iris!#one piece x y/n

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newtkive · 4 months

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practice - carmen berzatto

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader, mentioned platonic marcus x reader

summary: The sudden changes at your work prove to be a lot to keep up with, but Carmy notices your efforts where you think he’s just a tough boss. He proves to be more than that when he finds you pulling an all-nighter at the restaurant.

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: none really, anxious reader, ooc!carmen (he would never let mistakes fly like this lmao), kinda fluff at the end

a/n: this is basically how i would react working there bc i almost have an anxiety attack every ep watching carmy yell at everyone. sorry for any typos!

The fast moving pace that Carmen Berzatto brought to The Beef was something extraordinary. The skill of his professional chef background was carried over into the small hole in the wall that otherwise would have never changed if it wasn’t for him.

His drive was contagious, even infecting the staff you knew like the back of your hand. You never would have thought your coworkers, ever comfortable with a stagnant pace, would become accustomed to such change around their second home.

It was great to see your favorite people quickly see their own potential thanks to Carmy’s vision. The only problem was you.

You were falling behind, and quickly.

You tried to convince yourself you could keep up as things changed. But your mind was faster than your barely skilled hands and you were terrible at cutting ingredients evenly during a rush and you always somehow got sliced or burnt and your eyes always stung from the onions you were stuck prepping because that was the one job you couldn’t fuck up but hated— to put it simply, you sucked.

The faces of your coworkers reflected what you feared every time you turned around to take a breath, heels of your hands rubbing tears from your eyes as Carmy screamed profanities at the crew. Tina’s eyes would linger on you, brows raised and silently asking if you were okay. You would nod and blink the tears away before jumping back in. By the end of every shift Ebraheim would pat you on the back before leaving, and Sydney would send you a small, sympathetic smile and wave while you tied your shoes on the bench near the locker.

Each time you could see the sympathy in their eyes and it made you hate yourself even more.

You were used to sandwiches; assembling simple ingredients between a hoagie bun on a slow Sunday surrounded by the people you called family. Cracking jokes here and there, no pressure to make things completely perfect, which ended up making things perfect. So much so that regulars even seemed disappointed to see you up at the register some days instead of in the kitchen assembling their lunch.

Carmy wasn’t blind, he could see exactly what was going on, which was why he didn’t pick on you as much as he did when he first arrived.

The first couples of weeks that Carmy was there he noticed the difference in your station compared to everyone else’s. Organized, cohesive, clean—save for the multiple drinks you always had. You worked at your own pace, not slow but definitely not up to par with Carmen’s standards. You made it work though, cutting ingredients almost perfectly and whipping up sandwiches and other specialties not a second too late.

The change happened when Carmy upped the stakes and encouraged—or yelled at—everyone to be as quick as they possibly could. His yelling was off putting, and you didn’t respond well to much other than positive reinforcement.

The chef didn’t notice until the uneven bread and too-thin tomato slices lead back to you. He was quick, marching over to you with a purpose; if it was a cartoon, his hair would be alight with fire. “Chef!” His voice was hard and urgent, because he didn’t have time to deal with this.

As he approached, he noticed your hands shaking as you held the dull shitty knife, head whipping up and cheeks red, all but heaving from the pressure. So much pressure.

“Yes Chef?” You asked attentively, waiting for him to explode.

Carmen had all intentions to do just that, tear you a new one, tell you that you’ve been here long enough to know how to cut a fuckin’ tomato the right way but he paused. The look in your eye was wild and scared. His face fell, obvious turmoil behind his blue eyes causing a change in his decision. You waited with bated breath, but what you were expecting never came.

Instead, Carmen did his best to be calm and set his hand on the counter, leaning a bit. “I want you to show me how to slice that tomato.” He said.

“What?” You were confused and it was clearly written on your face. So were your nosy coworkers who exchanged looks and shrugged, expecting the young man to wail on you with his words.

Looking over your shoulder at the others, you tried to exchange weary looks with anyone but Carmy pulled you back in with his words. “Don’t worry about their shit. C’mon, show me.” He said again, motioning to the tomato sitting on the cutting board, looking at you expectantly.

After a beat of weariness you did what he asked. With an exhale your knife pierced the red skin and cut it, your wrist dragging it back and forth to cut all the way through. You gave a few more slices, doing your best to ignore his scrutinizing gaze.

Reviewing your slices, you mentally pat yourself on the back at the sight of them perfectly even and a fairly thin. You turned to look at Carmy, and he seemed to have an epiphany as he stood there holding his chin. Eyes flickering up to you, he nodded. “You know what that showed me?” He asked, and before you could answer he continued. “You’re competent, you did that shit with a dull knife. Don’t cut ‘em too thick or too thin, you have no excuses.”

He should feel ridiculous, like he was coaching a baby how to do the easiest job in the world, but for some reason Carmen was able to swallow his irritation and try to guide you.

You nodded, back straightening and hands sweaty. “Yes, Chef.”

Carmy was about to walk off but stopped himself, turning back around, eyes boring into yours as he grew more serious. “You hear me yelling, you listen, but I need you to focus, Chef. You can do this shit, I’ve seen you pull through before. Don’t let my mouth get to your fuckin’ head.” He said low enough just for the both of you to hear.

He was close, blue eyes staring right at you, the smell of the kitchen clinging onto his apron. It should’ve been intimidating, and it was a little, but you knew this was his version of offering comfort and maybe even some sort of apology.

“Heard, Chef.” You said just as quietly back.

There was a second of him staring, before he simply walked away without another word, leaving you to your own devices. Whatever he said seemed to put some perspective into your work, because you didn’t have anys setbacks for the rest of the day.

On the way home, sitting on the train with headphones in your ears and a jacket wrapping you up tight, Carmy’s words swirled in your head. You knew you could do this, and you could somewhat see in Carmy’s eyes that he had faith in you too. It was just a new world you were all suddenly thrown into and it was hard finding your place. On days where you felt like a baby fawn standing on shaky legs, wobbling and failing to find your footing, you had to keep going.

A single word rang in your mind.

Practice.

Your apartment was pretty small and shared with a roommate, so you lacked the accommodations and tools to really do all you wanted. Aside from that, you didn’t want to be the rude roomie who clashed pans in the kitchen all night long. So, as you made your way off the train you didn’t leave the station. Instead, you waited for the next ride to the city and headed straight for The Beef.

The sun set as you approached the back door, humming a tune as you pulled out a spare key—one that definitley would be confiscated once Carmy found out about it, probably clambering about it not being safe in the foreseeable future—from under the fuse box outside and unlocked the door.

You entered the kitchen, brows immediately raising as you saw all of the kitchen lights on. Slowly moving forward, a sense of anxiety grew as you knew no one would usually be here except for Carmy, and you really did not want to get a talking to from him right now.

Turning the corner, you sighed in relief when you saw the familiar stature that belong to Marcus. He had his phone out, recipe pulled up in front of him and a song playing softly from the speakers that he sang along to. You chuckled softly, alerting him of your presence. Head snapping up at the sound, he almost looked like a deer in the headlights as he met your eyes.

Similarly to you, he let out a relieved sigh and sent you a smile. “Scared me, Y/N.” He laughed softly, hands whisking again.

“Sorry.” You apologized, tugging your coat off. “What’re you doing here, man?” You asked as you headed over to the lockers and shoved your stuff away.

Marcus shrugged. “Could ask you the same thing.”

“Practice.” You said simply, shrugging and tying your apron around your waist. Approaching the kitchen, you started gathering a few clean pots to start your work.

Humming and nodding, Marcus gave you a knowing grin. “Same here.” There was a beat of comfortable silence as you gathered a knife, cutting board, and an onion before washing your hands. “I actually stay here sometimes overnight. It’s easier, that way I won’t waste time going back and forth from home.” Marcus explained.

Surprise filled your features and you sent him an impressed look. “Wow, no wonder you’re getting better fast.”

He chuckles bashfully, filling another mixing bowl with flour and whatever else he desired. “Eh, I guess.” The shrug of his shoulders made you laugh before you turned back to your own work.

With one last question of Marcus asking if you minded his music, and you affirming that you didn’t mind at all, he turned the dial on his bluetooth radio up and you both fell into a comfortable rhythm; Marcus in his corner and you on the stovetop.

By the end of the evening you prepared a vibrant beef braciole dish that a few of the others had been practicing since Carmy introduced it. You brought it to one of the stainless steel counters with two forks, setting it next to the two pieces of cake Marcus had sliced up from his recipe of the evening.

You both dug in, humming in satisfaction as you tasted each other’s creations, sharing impressed and ‘holy shit’ expressions that made the other laugh.

“This is fantastic.” Marcus said, another mouthful of beef being added to his mouth.

You laughed and shook your head, muttering a thank you, trying to swallow down your surprise. Marcus could tell, because he doubled down. “No, really, Y/N. This is the best one I’ve tasted yet, aside from the big Chef.” He said with a grin.

Shaking your head, you gave him your appreciation. “Thank you, Chef. I can say the same thing from you.” You motioned with your fork to the cake. In truth, his words pushed you and affected you more than you lead on.

The both of you fell into a rhythm, whipping up treats and savory meals almost every day after work. Marcus playing music at his own station, you timing yourself relentlessly to try and replicate the fast pace of the open hours of the restaurant. You sometimes even found yourself staying overnight, taking turns with Marcus to use his sleeping bag—he insisted where you didn't want to overstep, but sleep called you and his pillow was comfy.

Relentless practice proved to keep you on track and up to pace with everyone else, slowly but surely. The impressed glances shared between Tina and Sydney every time you had them taste a dish or were quicker than usual were enough, but Carmen was ever the critic. A new menu soon graced The Beef alongside their regular sandwiches, and it was a tough menu to master. You almost had them all down pat, practicing relentlessly for almost four weeks now after work.

However, every time you presented a steaming spoonful of stew, or a perfect bite of chicken piccata that everyone else in the kitchen seemed to love, Carmen would bite into it, hum, and shake his head. "Good." He said every time.

"Good like.. good good? Or good but start over, it's trash, throw it away?" You would ask, clearly waiting with baited breath on a slow day.

Carmy shook his head again. "It's not ready yet, Chef." And then he would be off to collect more expo receipts and leave you there disappointed, shoulders deflating in defeat.

"I think it's great, Chef." Marcus would smile, hands busy working on dough for his unmastered donuts. You would offer a sad smile in return, marching off to assemble another hoagie and handing your failed dish to a waiting Richie in exchange for an appreciative rub of his hands together. The negative feedback only spurred you to improve your craft as much as you could.

It was a rare occasion that Marcus didn't stay at the restaurant overnight. He left early in a frenzy after a phone call, muttering something about his mom's nurse needing him. Offering comfort wasn't your strongest suit, so you bid him luck and made a mental note to bring him his favorite coffee during work later in hopes to cheer him up.

At the same time you were plating what felt like your dozenth chicken piccata of the week, soft footsteps approached the kitchen. As soon as the timer went off behind you, you whipped around and hit the top, a harsh exhale and wipe of your forehead following the silence. You felt proud, plating and finishing your dish in record time without any hiccups.

A soft chuckle brought you out of your stupor, head snapping up to meet bright blue eyes from across the kitchen. There stood Carmy with his unruly curls, white tee and brown jacket he was beginning to pull off. In place of his usual stoic face was an amused expression, clearly not expecting to see someone in the kitchen at this hour.

You froze at the sight of him, but his soft smile eased your shoulders a bit. “Smells good.” Carmy said as if it was the most casual thing, hanging his jacket by the lapels on a hook. He sat on the bench, beginning to change his shoes into nonslip ones.

Stuttering, your cheeks turned pink. “O-oh, uhhh, thanks.”

“You’re here early.” He said back, standing now and readying to tug on his apron.

Brows furrowed, you looked above him to glance at the kitchen clock. Big red numbers read 6:15 AM and your brows raised in shock. Before you had a chance to respond, he walked closer, beginning to talk again. “I’ve noticed you and Marcus are always here before anyone else.”

You shrugged, nervous smile gracing your lips as they upturned slightly. “Ah, yeah. We both wanted to practice. Y’know, catch up with everyone else.” You explained. Conveniently, you decided to not mention the instances of spending the night, figuring it would be a little to embarrassing or earn you a talking to.

Carmy was now approaching the other side of the counter where you stood, hands tapping the steel. His little smug smile didn’t leave his lips as he nodded. “I also noticed a few things missing from our inventory.” His words were clearly teasing, but they made your face run pale.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, Chef. Take it from my paycheck, please—I didn’t even consider—“ The rambling was embarrassing, and his head shake cut you off.

“No, stop, Y/N. I'm teasing you.” Carmy laughed softly with a small smile, clearly endeared. The use of your name made you bashful.

A beat of silence followed, your mouth opening and closing like a fish. Carmy glanced behind you at the dish that laid perfectly plated, motioning to it with his hands. “Let’s see if your hard work is paying off.”

Blinking in surprise, you obediently nodded and turned to grab the dish. Sliding it in front of him, you gathered a fork and knife. Carmy grasped the utensils with a ‘thank you’, fingers brushing yours. It didn’t take long for the chef to dig in, eyes immediately closing once the first bite hit his taste buds.

“So.. what do you think?” You plucked up the courage to ask after he swallowed.

Carmy looked up at you, lips curling upwards and a proud look dawning his features. “Great, as usual.”

Usually those words would make you excited, but Carmy had a habit of complimenting your dishes before declaring how they weren’t good enough just yet. You simply nodded, swallowing thickly as he took another bite and savored the taste. “What should I change?” You asked, straightening your back in preparation for the inevitable criticism.

Humming, Carmy shook his head, the same amused look as before coming back. “Nothing, Chef. It’s perfect.” He said firmly. Those words made your breath leave your lungs, hands becoming clammy, and before you knew it you were grinning.

“Really?” You asked, not able to keep your excitement together.

Carmy let out a full laugh at that. “Really.” He confirmed.

You clapped your hands together before covering your face, hiding the grin as best you could. It had been awhile since you felt so elated due to cooking, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. You felt like the whole month of dedicating your time to cooking was culminating to this moment. Carmen watched you with soft eyes, taking in how happy his words made you. You turned back to him, giving up hiding how ecstatic you were. “I braised it differently this time, could you tell? Well, obviously you could if it’s good this time.” You rambled on, a bit of a giggle in your voice.

“It’s always this good, Y/N.” Carmy suddenly said. His words had you pausing, tilting your head playfully. Hand trailing along the counter, he rounded it to stand next to you.

"What do you mean?" You asked, smile falling a bit. The man's words echoed in your head and you looked around the room as if to try and find meaning from his statement. Surely he didn't have you remake the dish for no reason, right? But Carmy's strong posture and raised brows, waiting for you to figure it out yourself, made you think that's exactly what he did. Sobering up, you scoffed and crossed your arms as you sent him a look. "Are you serious? This whole time..." You trailed off.

"Yes, this whole time." He said, leaning on the counter with one hand, eyes not leaving you. "I needed you to bust your ass, Chef. I knew you needed the practice, so I gave you the motive." Carmy explained. The scrunch of your nose made his chest hum with something warm, akin to looking at a kicked puppy that he wanted to scoop up and reassure. Guilt washed over him a little bit as he feared he was acting more and more like his old Chef, but he pushed those feelings down as best he could. He did this for the right reasons, unlike that dickhead in New York did to him. There was no berating and preying on insecurities, just some tough love.

Sighing, you were torn between being angry and feeling grateful that Carmy saw this potential in you. You didn't know what to say, so you blurted out exactly how you felt. "I'm embarrassed."

Carmy frowned, ducking his head to catch your eyes where you looked down a bit. "Why are you embarrassed?" His voice was soft, tiptoeing as to not make you more upset.

Allowing him to meet your eyes, you curled into yourself at the attention. "Because I've made a fool of myself these past few months." You murmured, spilling your guts to your new boss for some reason that you didn't know. Maybe it was the quiet kitchen, or the sudden defeat you felt, but your mouth was faster than your mind.

A small 'no, no, no' left Carmy and he shook his head, reaching a hand out to place on your shoulder. "Don't be. I came in and turned shit upside down, it just took you a bit more practice to get the hang of things." His hand started to rub your arm comfortingly, leaving heat where he touched. You knew this must have been a form of an apology in his own way. The words didn't come easy to Carmen, but he tried to convey it the best he could.

Leaning forward, Carmy mustered his best stern expression, wanting to keep your gaze so you couldn't look away and distract yourself from his next words. Your breath caught in your throat, not used to this proximity. "I'm proud of you. You should be proud of yourself too."

Heat encapsulated your cheeks and you nodded, spurring him to nod as well. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

As soon as Carmy saw your shy smile he gave one right back to you. Still close, he radiated heat that made it all the more difficult to calm the butterflies growing in your stomach. Eyes never leaving each other's, the air grew tense as the dust settled. Unlike the usual sandwich smell, an aroma of a clean linen scent came off of him as you realized he must have showered before coming here. Carmy never would admit it, but your perfume filled the air for him, making him linger longer than he should have. The blink of your stare looking up at him made Carmy's chest tighten, and he immediately pulled himself out of whatever trance he was in.

Clearing his throat, Carmy let go of your shoulder and backed up a bit. "No more all-nighter's here. Okay, Chef?" He tried to seem playful to rid himself of awkwardness and whatever that just was.

Mouth falling open, you gaped at him. "How did you know?!"

Hands up in surrender, Carmy just shrugged. "A Chef never tells his secrets," He began, heading over to the drying rack to busy himself, playfully adding, "And someone kept leaving the spare key out, so I figured." The smirk he sent you made you grin and roll your eyes.

Carmy would never tell you he knew because that's what he used to do. Before he got the hang of things in his earlier days as a chef, late nights in the restaurant kitchen and a half hour of sleep was the norm for him. As you began cleaning up your work the chef's gaze lingered on you, blue eyes studying your form with a thoughtful look. Carmy shook his head, smiling to himself and starting his work. He reckoned he saw himself in you more than ever.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #the bear #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

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starkwlkr · 4 days

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mum said no | lewis hamilton

an: i love hot ones <3 that’s all

After canceling many times, Lewis finally made his appearance on Hot Ones with Sean Evans. He was a big fan of the show so he was happy to finally get to be a guest. Not only was he a big fan, but so was his eleven year old daughter, Maeve, so naturally she accompanied him to the set.

Maeve Hamilton watched as her dad ate spicy wings and answered questions. When talking about Roscoe, Maeve payed close attention. She loved talking about Roscoe so much.

On the monitor, a picture of Roscoe and Maeve appeared. Maeve was wearing a black Lewis shirt that her mum had bought from an Etsy store while Roscoe licked her face. It was the British Grand Prix and Maeve, along with her sisters, was beyond excited.

“Look, Mavy, that’s you and Roscoe!” Lewis pointed to the screen. “That was taken last year. Do you remember?” Lewis asked his daughter.

Maeve looked at the picture and nodded. “Angela took it!”

“Is your family always at the races?” Sean asked.

“Most of the time during the summer, yeah. It’s always a great time when they’re in the garage, but when it’s school time, they stay home with their mum.” Lewis explained. “They don’t like that at all. But I always tell them education comes first.”

“But I get lots of good grades.” Maeve cut in.

“What’s your favorite subject?” Sean asked the girl.

“I like science.” Replied Maeve.

As the show went on, Maeve was seated next to the camera crew, laughing at her father. He was now taking bigger bites.

“You can do it!” Maeve cheered on.

“Thank you, baby. Love you.” Lewis chuckled and blew a kiss to the girl. “I can always count on my girls to cheer me on.”

“On the topic of family, is it possible that Formula One could get another Hamilton on the track? Or do they want to go into other careers?” Sean asked.

“At one point, they did say they wanted to, but now they’re discovering more careers that they’re interested in. I will support them in whatever choice they make.”

You and Lewis both knew that your daughters would never be Formula one drivers. You both talked about how hard it would be on them. He saw how fans were tough on Mick. He didn’t want his girls to go through that.

The wings got spicier and all Maeve could do was laugh at the faces Lewis was making. He drank milk but that barely helped. Tears were starting to come out his eyes. Maeve noticed and quickly went to her father’s side and used a clean napkin to clean the tears since she didn’t want him using his own hands that were covered in sauce.

“Thank you, baby.” Lewis said as Maeve cleaned up the tears.

“What kind of reaction do you get when somone pulls up alongside of you and then sees that it’s, you know, Lewis Hamilton behind the wheel next to them?” Sean questioned.

“Most people are just like ‘Holy Shit!’ um. . .” Lewis chuckled.

“They’re not revving their engine at you or anything?”

“I’ve had people, yeah traffic light that wanna race yeah.” He nodded. “Definitely when I was young, I felt like yeah. . . smoke this fool.” He laughed.

“This man wanted to race you yesterday!” Maeve spoke up. “Mum said no.”

“I got kids now!” Lewis laughed once again. “I got precious cargo, I can’t be fooling around.”

“And mum said no.” Maeve whispered to him.

“Yup, and mum said no.”

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x reader #dad!lewis hamilton #lh44 imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton

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milfjuulpod · 2 months

Text

Taken For A Ride

Downtown celebrating and socializing with your Abbott friends, Melissa seems to be more affectionate towards you than usual, and enjoying every second of it.

warnings: consumption of alcohol, smut, 18+

A/N: hey pookies long time no see, after taking a long break from writing i finally finished something i enjoyed. i hope u all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it :)

After the stressful few days that was the smoking fiasco, it was needless to say everyone at Abbott Elementary was relieved when Janine was able to help out the troubled student, even if that meant it included the “no smoking” sign somehow being attached to the brick wall. Mr. Johnson never failed to amaze the rest of the crew.

“You know what would be an ironic way to congratulate Janine and celebrate today working out? Going out for drinks and dancing downtown this Friday,” Jacob pitched to the usual suspects on their way out the door for the afternoon.

“Please, you’ll come up with any reason to get us all out and do something. You’re almost as bad as Janine.” Ava retorted. “But…I do know of some PR event happening that night, I could get us all in after a few shots.”

Unsure of your own decision on Jacob’s idea, you just listened to a few of your friends go back and forth between places to go, before settling on somewhat of a decent plan for the weekend. Looking between faces, a pair of jade eyes met yours. Melissa was already looking at you, realizing that caused a light pink spread across your cheeks. Luckily everyone else was busy caught up in the details of it all. Shifting your eyes away from hers, you walked closer to Ava.

“I’ll be at both this event Ava speaks of and whatever bar you all decide beforehand, but I gotta run. Text me the details?” You asked, picking up your pace once you were met with agreement from everyone.

Truthfully, you didn’t have anywhere special to be, but here in the car was better than being a flustered mess in front of the redhead. Melissa had clearly taken a liking towards you. At first it was innocent, her walls slowly coming down in an effort of friendship. Slowly but surely, her favoritism towards you became more and more clear. She always made sure you were close to her when the two of you were in the same room, she would let her touches linger while she watched your face for any sort of reaction. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it wasn’t just curiosity, Melissa liked getting such a reaction from you.

You shook your head to clear your thoughts before beginning the drive home. The evening was filled with mundane tasks, grading, cleaning, planning, nothing too out of the ordinary. The rest of the week was similar, mundane, but easy. That was, until Friday. Shortly after you had gotten home from work and started getting ready to meet everyone out, you got a call from Melissa. “Hey you,” came from your end as soon as you picked up.

“Hey sweetheart, can you do me a favor?” Melissa asked over the speaker. You couldn’t see, but you knew she was twirling the end of her hair and lowering her voice on purpose, she always did when she wanted something.

“What is it now, Schemmenti?” You teased her.

“I need you to get ready as quickly as you can and come to my house.” She answered rather quickly.

“And why is that?”

“Because…I don’t know what to wear,” She admitted.

You couldn’t contain the laugh as soon as you heard her answer. She couldn’t be serious, right? “Mel, why do you need me to come all the way to your house for an opinion on an outfit? Can’t you just tell me what you’re wearing or send me pictures? Or, oh! Just FaceTime me.”

“C’mon hon, it can’t possibly take you long to get ready, you look incredible without even trying. Plus, we can carpool. Save the planet.”

You knew it wouldn’t take long for her to convince you. “Fine, I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

After a few songs and quick outfit adjustments, you were out the door and on your way to Melissa’s. As far as you knew, the clubs Ava tended to go to were more on the luxurious side, so you hoped your bodycon skirt and baby tee were cute enough to get past security. The drive was nice, but not long enough for your nerves to calm down. You had only been to Melissa’s house a few times, you wondered what exactly you had gotten yourself into just as you pulled into the driveway and went up to her front door.

“Hey, did you at least pick out a couple options? Or am I going in completely blind?” You asked, taking a step into her house. Melissa didn’t answer you, though. Instead she quietly shut the door behind you two and very obviously looked you up and down. “This…This what you’re wearin’?” She asked before giving you a once over (again).

“I was going to, why? Do I not look good?” You began looking at yourself in the mirror in the hallway of her home, trying to fix any imperfections you could have missed. So focused on fixing yourself up, you missed Melissa sneaking up and getting in your space. That is until you could see her dark eyes in the mirror, her lips so close to your ear as she said, “No baby, you look good. Follow me,” She said, and walked away like she didn’t just turn you into the darkest shade of red.

Upstairs in her room, she motioned for you to sit on the bed while she went into her bathroom. You took a short amount of time to compose yourself and take in your surroundings. It wasn’t messy, but it was lived in, well loved. It was very Melissa, and you wouldn’t expect anything less of the woman. When she emerged, you realized she had color coordinated the two of you. Her white top underneath her jacket matched yours, and her black leather pants matched your skirt.

“Looks okay?” She asked, fluffing up her hair in the mirror once more before walking over to you. The redhead seemed to sway her hips more as she came closer, drawing more attention to the pants that hugged her tightly.

“Y-Yeah Mel, you look good.” You took the opportunity to stand back up and change the subject. “Are you ready to go? Who’s driving?”

Melissa gathered the rest of her things and motioned for you to continue ahead of her. “Barb is coming to pick us up, figured we could plan the rest out later since both our cars are at mine anyways,” she said, closing her door and following you down the stairs. You hadn’t considered that at the end of the night, you would be coming back to Melissa’s. Interesting.

The ride to the restaurant was nice, a bit of time to catch up for the work wives before meeting everyone else. You, on the other hand, zoned out for most of the ride. It wasn’t until Melissa turned around that you came back to life. “Hon, you in there?” Both her and Barbara were now looking at you, Barbara just stopping the car.

“Yeah, sorry. Just taking some me time before giving all my energy to the kids,” You replied, earning a scoff from both Melissa and Barbara.

“Those ‘kids’ are the same age as you sweetheart,” Barbara said, turning off the car and getting ready to go in.

“Doesn’t mean they don’t tire me out just like actual kids do,” You said, and shut the door behind you. You joined the two older women in stride, Melissa sneaking her hand on your lower back as you three entered the restaurant. It was easy to find your group of friends, all gathered at the high top closest to the bar. “So glad to see you could all make it!” Jacob enthusiastically said as you all sat down. “I have to say Jacob, I’m not mad at the place, so far.” Melissa teased her friend across the table. She reached for a menu in front of her, and turned to you. “Have you been here before?” She asked.

“I have, actually. It’s nice, the bar food is surprisingly decent and the bartenders know what they’re doing, which is a nice change of pace,” You answered honestly. The redhead laughed at your response, but it was clear she was genuinely listening to what you had to say.

After a few minutes, everyone had ordered a few appetizers and the first round of drinks, courtesy of Ava. “What? Yall think I don’t have principal money?” She laughed. “But you better make this first round worth it, all of yall. Drink up people!” The first round was quick to arrive, and the second round was close behind. “I’ll get this one, just in case I get too drunk and forget to pay for drinks later,” You said, half to your server and half to your friends.

Melissa’s hand snaked its way onto your thigh, squeezing it gently. “Don’t get too drunk now, I don’t want you puking in my bed later,” She said quietly to you. You laughed off her teasing, but couldn’t ignore her lingering touch on your thigh. The combination of the alcohol and Melissa’s touch made warmth spread throughout your entire body.

She didn’t stop there either. It seemed with each sip she took of her own drink, she was letting go of those walls and showing you more and more affection. As much as you loved the attention, it was driving you crazy. Every time she laughed she would lean into you, followed by meeting your eyes to see if you were laughing as hard as her. Whenever the redhead had a snarky comment to make, she would nuzzle into your hair and whisper it into your ear. Those times were the hardest to get through.

Luckily after the third round, everyone decided to change locations. Barbara was the only one who stopped after her first drink, leaving that version of Barbara for another time—someone had to wrangle in the kids.

“Alright everyone, whoever is coming to Ava’s club needs to follow me to my car, I’ll be dropping you hooligans off.” She laughed, but everyone knew she cared and would never hesitate to give any one of you a ride. Ava, Janine, Jacob, Melissa, and yourself followed Barbara’s trail in the parking lot. Gregory, despite many pleads from everyone, decided to head home. Something about getting up early for the perfect gardening weather, your memory was foggy since Melissa was drawing patterns on your back at the time.

“Wait, we have one too many…Someone has to sit lap. Couldn’t be me though, I get shotgun since I’m giving Barb the directions,” Ava told the group and quickly took her spot in the front.

“You’ll be fine, right hon? Besides, I’m a good seatbelt,” Melissa said to you, walking with you to the car and taking her spot without leaving you much choice. You took your seat, and silently prayed the club wasn’t too far away. As soon as Barbara started driving, Melissa had her hands on you. One splayed across your stomach and the other wrapped around your thigh. Luckily Ava was already in party mode and took over the music on the drive, leaving no room for conversation. If you tried talking, you fear it would be full of stutters and gasps.

Once everyone got comfortable in the car, Melissa took advantage of the position the two of you were in. She lowered her hand a bit on your stomach and tightened her grip on your thigh. You could feel her nails through your skirt and you attempted to close your legs more to get her to ease up, but of course it didn’t work. You felt her lips against the shell of your ear for a split second before you heard her voice.

“Stop squirming so much baby, or I’ll really have to hold you down.”

Although the music was loud, you knew Melissa was close enough to hear the whine that escaped you. And if she didn’t, she certainly felt your body’s reaction to her. Just a minute later you were thanking your lucky stars as Barbara pulled up to the club and lowered the music. You knew you were blushing, way too warm, just an absolute mess thanks to the woman underneath you.

“Alright kiddos, have fun and be safe! Everyone please get home safely, and make good decisions!” Barbara said her goodbye, and everyone thanked her as they made their exit. Ava led the way to the bouncer, and though you took the opportunity in the cold air to calm down, Melissa stayed close by. Even when Jacob started talking about the famous drinks they had here, she pretended to listen all while keeping her beautiful green eyes focused on you. She was driving you insane.

As soon as Ava got everyone to their VIP spot and drink orders were placed, you took off to the bathroom. Cold water and alone time was exactly what you needed. You stood in front of the bathroom mirror obsessively looking yourself over, worried that the whole club would somehow be able to tell Melissa had you wrapped around her finger and was tugging on the string like a play toy. Focused on the cool water on your hands as you began to turn on the sink, you missed the sound of the door opening.

“Everything okay, hon? You left pretty quickly. Don’t tell me Jacob’s list of ingredients scared you from the drink you ordered,” Melissa’s voice was heard from behind you. Quickly you turned off the faucet and faced her, your body betraying your mind in an instant. “Please, not much could scare me off from a drink at a place with a bar like this one,” you joked. She took a few steps closer, inching you against the back of the counter.

“Then what’s going on, amore?” She asked, but there was a tone in her voice you couldn’t pinpoint. The nickname didn’t help your state either, it never did. “N-Nothing Mel, everything’s okay.” You would’ve walked away at this point if you didn’t feel cornered by such a beautiful woman.

As if a switch flipped in her, Melissa put her hands by your sides on the counter and pressed herself against you gently. “Don’t lie to me, I could sit here all night,” she said lowly.

“Melissa…” was all you were able to get out. She pushed herself against you harder, her breasts flush with yours at this point. “I’ll ask you one more time. What’s going on?”

“I…You’ve been teasing me all night,” You felt Melissa put her hands over yours on the counter and squeeze them gently. “Mmm, I haven’t been that mean, have I? I figured most of my attitude tonight was directed towards Janine, not you dolcezza mia,” She tightened her grip on your hands with her last two words. If she wasn’t making your body feel on fire, you would’ve rolled your eyes just then.

“You know that’s not what I mean Melissa,” You said sharply, growing tired of this game with her. “Oh, this teasing then?” She asked, and a second later had her thigh pressed against your core, bodies closer than they ever have been. You groaned at the feeling and had to fight every urge to not grind against her in that moment. All you could do was nod, which drove Melissa crazy. You didn’t know it yet, but she loved teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore, making you beg and plead for what you want.

“Aww, you poor thing, let me help you then.” Melissa slowly began rubbing her thigh back and forth against you, and captured your lips in hers to keep you quiet. She let go of your hands and let you touch her, and you wasted no time pulling her closer. The older woman moaned at how tightly and desperately you pulled at her. She broke apart the kiss to continue her way down your jaw and throat, and you felt her use her leg to open yours even more.

“Melissa…S-Someone could walk in,” you said between gasps. “No they won’t, I locked the door behind me,” She stopped kissing you for a moment to smile up at you, and you realized Melissa had planned this, and you went right along with it. In your moment of distraction, Melissa had pulled your skirt up, and it wasn’t until you felt her nails on your thighs again you realized it. “God, Melissa, you’ve been teasing me all night…please,” You muttered.

“Please what, my love?” You rolled your eyes at her response, to which Melissa dug her nails harder into your skin.

“Please touch me, fuck me, I need to feel you. I need you.” At your words Melissa brought her lips back up to yours, ever so slightly brushing them together. “Good girl.”

Melissa tugged your underwear to the side and slowly drew a finger up and down your center. The bathroom was filled with your moans and Melissa’s gentle shushes and kisses across your body. She didn’t hesitate giving you exactly what you wanted, the feeling of her fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to the edge every passing second. Her lips felt so soft as they left red and purple marks along your neck, her perfume surrounded you entirely, all you could feel was her. Opening your eyes, you looked at her. Her red hair falling across the two of you, the way her pants looked so good on her tonight, her fingers pumping in and out of you.

“Baby I’m s-so close…please Melissa,” You moaned. She kissed her way back up, stopped right by your ear again and said, “Let go sweetheart, let it all go for me.” After a few more touches, you rode your orgasm out against Melissa, overstimulated from the senses. She let you catch your breath, every once in a while planting a gentle kiss somewhere she left a mark earlier. Once you opened your eyes and met her green ones again, she spoke up. “Hi beautiful.”

“Hi,” you giggled out. You felt higher than ever, post alcohol and orgasm. Melissa took your hands again and helped you stand up straight, adjusting your skirt in the process. It was sweet seeing her like this, so caring without having to say a word. You pulled her back up to you, kissing her again. This time it was less rushed, and you hoped she could feel your admiration and gratefulness in it all.

“I guess we should go back out there before our drinks get watered down,” Melissa said once the two of you finally pulled apart. “Yeah, I guess. But only if you let me hear what your moans sound like when we get home,” You replied.

Melissa giggled and led the two of you to the door, “Deal.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #reader fic #wlw fic #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fic #abbott elementary fics #lisa ann walter

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dfortrafalgar · 2 months

Text

God, Finally

You're both tired of playing chicken each time you try to have sex.

Law x Fem Reader

Warnings: MATURE 18+, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS INTERACTING WITH THIS POST WILL BE BLOCKED, fluff, fluff and smut, first time, soft law, mutual performance anxiety

Author's note This was born because I wanted to write a more realistic smut about the awkwardness that can sometimes come with sex for the first time, especially with someone as intricate and complex as Law.

Also posted on AO3

You wanted it.

Law wanted it.

Both of you made it very obvious that you wanted it. Your flirtatious glances toward your stone-cold boyfriend tossed innocuously over the galley dining table, or the way Law formed the addicting habit of running his lanky, inked fingers across your waist when passing you through the tight corridors of the Polar Tang, unnoticed by anyone else on the crew, but scorching through your jumpsuit like a hot ember. The intense love you had for each other was clearly reciprocated. You often dreamt of moments spent with the raven-haired man under the thin sheets of his bed in his quarters, running your own hands along his defined shoulders or ghosting along his heavenly abdomen. Likewise, Law would often use his time alone in the shower to release his feelings for you, utterly infatuated with every aspect of your body and soul. The kindness of your heart was just as alluring as the way your favorite dress hugged your body like it was sculpted just for you, and Law couldn’t get enough.

And yet, despite all of the deep, intense feelings shared between the two of you, everything would dissipate the second things got moved to the bedroom.

The first time you and Law tried anything, you were straddled across his lap on his bed, his thin sheets and one lonely pillow tossed to the side as your lips ghosted over his collarbones in tandem with his hands working to remove the tanktop you wore under your boiler suit. You had gotten as far as both of you being shirtless when things suddenly got awkward, as if a circuit breaker popped. No spark between either of you.

You sat atop Law’s hips, no indication of arousal anywhere to be found below his waist. You, similarly, felt nothing. As your eyes locked with his confused, almost frightened, golden ones, all the sexual tension that had built up within the small metal confines of his private room was gone as if it was never there in the first place.

“You… uhm…” Law tripped over his words, and flushed a deep crimson after damaging his own ego with his obvious nervousness. “You look nice.”

You blinked. “Thanks…?”

Neither of you really knew what happened, but after you pulled your shirt back over your head and carefully hopped off of his mattress, the two of you didn’t speak for the rest of the day after that. Things were pretty much back to normal after a few days of taking some time for each of you, and the next time you tried was about 10 days after your first failed encounter.

You were once again back in Law’s quarters, this time kneeling on the cold metallic floor as you gazed up at him with hungry, ravenous eyes. Some dirty talk was successfully bounced between the two of you, and quite frankly, you were pretty desperate to suck his dick despite not yet having seen it for yourself. Law was already enjoying the feeling of grabbing your hair in his fingers, loving the way your eyes fluttered shut with the sensation of his firm yet tender grip on your head to guide his lips to yours as he hunched over you. You kissed your way through undoing the belt of his speckled jeans, pulling the faux leather through his belt loops and discarding the accessory to the side on the floor. You made quick work of his button, then his fly, his hips lifting to allow you to shimmy his pants to his knees. He was hard, painfully so, and his dick truly looked as pretty as you imagined it would.

But when your lips finally separated from the steamy kiss and your focus was directed solely on his erection, all the confidence you had built up packed up its bags and said it was going out for cigarettes. Your hands rested limp on Law’s thighs, his hands resting on the edge of the mattress. He stared blankly at you staring at his dick.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. He could already feel his own arousal leaving, blood once again flowing back to his brain. With the extra oxygen, he started to worry if he was the problem.

“No, nothing’s wrong, I just…” you faltered, “I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh.”

Just like your first encounter, your second attempt ended in utter failure. You awkwardly stood up, brushing invisible dust off of your knees before uttering a quick apology with your head dipped. You quickly made your way out of his quarters, leaving Law sat befuddled, dick having gone completely flaccid in record time.

Two more additional, and equally as mentally painful, encounters happened since, and in the weeks that passed, the two of you started to develop your own individual anxieties.

Law was petrified that he was the problem. He was worried that he was moving too quickly for you, being too forceful and making you afraid to speak up. The last thing he wanted was to lose you over something so trivial, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t desperately want to finally lay with you. He had kept it to himself that he has never had sex, though to most in his life that was obvious as he often drowned himself in his work and duties as a pirate captain without leaving much room for random hook-ups. Until now, where he desperately wanted it.

You on the other hand, were anxiety ridden over the thought that Law would, in fact, leave you over something so trivial. You kicked yourself each time you chickened out of an act, leaving your flustered boyfriend alone and frustrated. The only thing holding you back was your lack of real experience beyond removing the clothes, and the uncertainty and unknown territory that came with made you jitter with nerves. You would try to hype yourself up in the mirror in the crew washroom, lightly slapping your cheeks and pouting your lips and mouthing encouraging nonsense to yourself, only to see Law and end up only sleeping with him, and not actually sleeping with him.

You were getting tired of your own impatience, and Law was getting tired of being anxious.

---

You woke up in the late morning to a beam of sunlight from the porthole in the crew bunkhouse tinting the inside of your eyelids dark red. With a grumble, still fairly tired from your night watch shift, you sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. On a typical day, the cloudless blue sky and warm weather of a spring island supply docking would be the perfect thing to lift your mood, but in the midst of your sexual frustrations, there was nothing to be content about. You proceeded through your day as usual, assisting with upkeep of the submarine and helping the engineers with a few maintenance jobs that had been discovered after your latest underwater excursion. It was this time spent alone with Ikkaku, both of you dirtied with sour oil as you dismantled one of the primary engines, that you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You needed advice, desperately.

“Ikkaku, mind if I ask you something?” you began, casually, biting down your nerves.

“Of course, what’s goin’ on?” she replied.

The two of you had formed a very close sisterly bond since you joined the crew, Ikkaku delighting in no longer being the only woman aboard a submarine crawling with men. You were able to talk about anything with each other without shame or embarrassment. And yet, the flustered feeling that tingled in your cheeks as you processed how to ask your question alerted your curly-haired crew mate to your desperation almost immediately.

Ikkaku leaned over in her dirty boiler suit, bumping her shoulder with yours. “Relationship trouble?”

“Yeah,” you grumbled, hand gripping a torque wrench and slowly tightening a lug nut on the engine in front of you. “It’s really embarrassing to ask, but…” your voice trailed off, tongue tying as you fought tooth and nail with your own vocabulary for how to voice your concern. “How do you know when you want to have sex?”

The look Ikkaku gave you didn’t help your feelings of inadequacy, but she was clearly trying to maintain a neutral expression. “Can I ask what you mean by that? Did something happen?”

“Any time Law and I try to… you know…” your wrench slipped out of its hold on the nut, and you grumbled. What an ironically fitting allegory. “We just end up chickening out at the last minute. I feel like there’s something wrong with me and I’m scared that he’s going to get fed up.”

Ikkaku nodded, focused on your words as well as her own work. “So you’re a virgin?”

You huffed. “Yes. Unfortunately.”

Ikkaku chuckled, but tossed you a sympathetic glance. “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, seriously. We’re all busy pirates, we’ve all come from crazy lives, no one is expected to have sex at a certain time. There’s no sense in rushing something like that.”

You smiled at her words of reassurance, but that nagging anxiety still clawed to the forefront of your brain. “But even when we do have time, why do I always end up chickening out? And why does he? I feel like he’s disgusted with me.”

“That can’t be it. He looks at you like you’re the most perfect thing to walk on this planet, and everyone can see it.”

Blood rushed to your face at the revelation of Law’s longing glances apparently being public knowledge amongst the Heart Pirates.

“Clearly you really want to take that next step with him, but I think the anticipation of it being some grand life-changing event might be scaring you off from the moment.” Ikkaku spoke freely, and her words did make sense. She continued. “I know there’s a big expectation of having sex as soon as possible, but that’s just not the reality most of the time. If sex is something that you feel that you need, and that feeling is mutual, then the moment will come naturally with time. And if it turns out that you realize it’s an attraction that you don’t feel, then that’s fine too!” The brunette adjusted her seat on the floor, crossing her legs and grabbing a dirty rag off to the side to wipe her muddied hands on. “The anxiety of the expectation is scaring you, basically.”

Your eyes were clearly widened at the revelation, as a hearty laugh left Ikkaku’s lungs at, what you assumed was, the dumbfounded expression on your face. Your shoulders hunched and you stared forward, all of your emotions suddenly making a lot more sense. All you could successfully mutter in response was a quiet, “Huh.”

“Did I get it right?” she inquired, leaning over to you and laying her head on your shoulder, a bright smile on her lips.

You laughed at her gesture, leaning back into her. “I think you did, actually… Do you think it’s the same thing for him?”

Ikkaku nodded affirmatively without hesitation. “Oh, absolutely. This crew is full of horny dudes stuck on a submarine together, you hear the way some of them talk. Between you and me, I know Law’s never had sex either, and the things he hears from his own crew about ‘men needing to have sex as soon as possible’ and the like,” she gestured her statement with air quotes, “It messes with his head and makes him all anxious. He clearly wants to do anything to make you happy, and I bet his own anxiety is inhibiting him from taking the next step.”

Something clicked in your mind once more at that moment. You knew Law had performance anxiety in battle, you had not only seen it once or twice, but had heard plenty of stories from his crew about his inability to maintain self control when around certain people. The thought of him having performance anxiety in the bedroom, with you, made your heart ache. You zoned back in, locking your eyes with Ikkaku who was gazing at your face to examine your expression.

She tapped her oily finger on the forehead, leaving a slight smudge. “I’m probably right!”

You laughed, taking the clean heel of your palm and pressing it to her forehead to wipe the smudge off of her skin. She yelped in response, laughing along with you. “Thank you Ikkaku, really.”

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for!”

The two of you continued your work with light conversation bouncing back and forth, and as you packed up your tools to head to the galley for dinner, Ikkaku tapped your thigh when you stood.

She gazed up at you, brown eyes twinkling mischievously. “Get that dick, sister.”

“Shut up!” you bantered back, hiding your flustered face from view as your friend boldly laughed.

You began the fairly long trek from the engine room to the galley, which was two floors above you and on the complete other end of the submarine. You stashed your tool box in a nearby maintenance closet before continuing your walk, rubbing your oil-stained hands on your jumpsuit. It was almost laundry day, anyway. As you rounded the corner into the confined space where one of the many ladders was kept, you bumped into the very man who set your heart racing.

Law was clearly caught off guard by your sudden appearance as well, having just climbed down the ladder and was turning around as you appeared. Red instantly tinted his cheeks, but he paired it with a very faint smile at your presence. “I was just about to get you for dinner, I didn’t want you to get too lost in your work.”

“Get me?” you asked, smiling. “How thoughtful! I just finished up, actually.”

“That’s good,” he responded, voice quiet. You stepped further into the ladder well, making an attempt to reach your hand out toward a metal rung before Law’s wrist stopped you. You gazed at him.

“Can we talk after dinner? In my quarters?” Before you had a chance to grow anxious over the ambiguousness of his words, the raven-haired man leaned down to press a warm kiss to your jaw. “I’m not breaking up with you, I promise.”

You laughed, worry immediately seeping out of you. “Thank goodness,” you sighed in relief. “Of course.”

It was only then that Law gestured for you to climb the ladder, following close behind you. You yelped when he poked a lanky finger into the plush of your ass cheek through your boiler suit, and you playfully batted his hand away. Despite the (assumed) shared anxiety of your escapades behind closed doors, you were relieved and thankful that your relationship hadn’t soured in any way. Law was truly too good for you.

The walk to the galley and dinner with a few of the crew members was filled with idle chit chat about your days, but you couldn’t miss the way Law’s knee was constantly bouncing with urgency. He finished his meal first, making his way toward his quarters. You waited a few moments to follow him, not wanting to draw suspicion from your crewmates. Everyone knew you were in a dedicated relationship with their captain, but you liked to avoid any awkward comments when you could. You made your way to Law’s room quicker than you thought you would, floating on your feet with nervous anticipation.

Law, meanwhile, was so anxious his hands were shaking in his bespeckled pockets. He was unsure whether or not to tell you that he had a very emasculating conversation with Shachi and Penguin earlier in the day about what they referred to as his, “Intense performance anxiety.” He didn’t appreciate that his feelings had a dedicated term, but he also couldn’t deny that their entire conversation made a whole lot of sense. Despite his two best friends’ track record of being fairly immature about contact with women, they were surprisingly helpful in getting him to unpack why he would shut down any time he gazed at you without your clothes on. While it made him feel like a pervert, Penguin was quick to shut down this feeling and chalked it up to, once again, Law’s built-in self-deprecation.

“It’s not your fault that you have performance anxiety, you just gotta talk it out!” Penguin had said, surprisingly emotionally intelligent.

Law made a mental note to sincerely thank the two of them at some later date.

You were quick to catch up to the taller man, rounding the corner just as he opened the door to his quarters. He grinned nervously as he held the door open for you, watching as you scampered inside. He closed the door behind him, subtly locking it. You kicked off your work boots and shrugged off your dirty boiler suit, tucking it safely away in the corner of his room so none of his belongings would get soiled by the oil that still remained on your clothes, before approaching his bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress. Law sat next to you, gazing at his hands, tattooed thumbs anxiously fidgeting.

“Take your time,” you said quietly, leaning over to nudge him.

“Thanks,” he replied in a hushed tone, the ghost of a smile fleeting over his face.

You patiently sat next to him, gazing at your own hands before he finally spoke up.

“So, I learned something today,” he began.

You picked your head up. “Go on…”

“Penguin said I have ‘performance anxiety.’” He used two fingers to gesture air quotes.

You tried to calm your nerves. Ikkaku’s voice in the back of your head was right on the money. He was just as nervous about the potential of disappointment as you were.

“I learned something today, too,” you added.

Law turned his head to face you.

“Ikkaku told me that I’m ‘scared of disappointing you.’” You gestured your own air quotes, a melancholic smile on your face.

Your eye contact with Law lasted for a few brief moments before you burst into a nervous fit of giggles. Law couldn’t help but follow suit, his own silent chuckle making his shoulders bounce as he hid his small grin behind his fist.

“Guess we’re both all messed up,” he sighed, studying your expression.

You hummed. “I really did realize that today, though. I never wanted to keep chickening out of being closer to you…” you took a deep breath before continuing. “I’ve just never had sex before, and I think I really was inherently scared that I would disappoint you, or not be good enough.”

Law nodded, bowing his head and lowering his hand to dance his fingers over your own. “Yeah… me too.”

A silence that was slightly less awkward now permeated the space, and you shuffled closer to your boyfriend. He embraced the warmth that radiated from your body, finding solace in the way you sent electric chills up his spine.

“I’m glad it’s mutual. I know that sounds bad, but it makes me feel less… inadequate?” you added.

“You’ve never been inadequate,” Law replied. He was about to add that he was the inadequate one, but Shachi’s stern voice bounced around Law’s skull that said ‘BE CONFIDENT IN YOURSELF.’ Law knew you loved him for everything he was, so who was he to tear himself down like that when you only saw his flaws as the things that made him so beautiful? He wanted to finally make you understand that as well.

“Thank you, Law.” You dipped your head into his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. “You’ve been so patient with me.”

“Likewise,” he whispered, hand above yours moving to lace your fingers together. His heart was beating madly in his ribcage. If one were to tell him earlier that day that he’d be metaphorically pouring his heart out for you later that evening, he would’ve scoffed in response, and yet here he was. As foreign as the feeling of being vulnerable still was for him, he was finding it easier and easier to open himself for you, expose everything inside him for you to consume. A year ago, or even some months ago, he would shut down that notion with a firm scowl and reinforce the concrete walls around his soul, but you would only break through them with something stronger. And he loved that about you. He loved you so deeply, more intimately than any other love he had ever felt.

He stiffened slightly when you moved your head out of the crook of his shoulder, your hairs dancing along the sensitive skin of his neck. You picked your head up, and planted a deep kiss on his lips. He watched through half-lidded eyes as your own fluttered closed, releasing your hand from his grasp in order to lace your arms around his neck. You were pushing into him so deeply that he felt as though you were trying to fuse yourself to him. Who was he to say no to such a request?

His hands found purchase on your waist, squeezing the flesh of your belly through your shirt. A sound, something between a giggle and a moan, left your mouth, and you pulled away from the kiss with an embarrassed smile.

“That tickled,” was all you said.

With your arms still draped around his shoulders and neck, you let gravity pull you down onto his bed, Law following you willingly, supporting himself above you with his forearms next to your head as he captured your lips in a kiss that took your breath away. The feeling of his lips, slightly chapped yet scorching like a flame, and the faint taste of coffee that always lingered on his tongue was already addicting, but even more so when he parted his teeth and captured your bottom lip in a gentle, teasing graze before diving in for more.

Law’s heartbeat tripled when he felt you smile against his mouth, a grin so delightfully beautiful that he wished he could kiss you for the rest of his life.

(Who was stopping him from fulfilling that wish?)

Running out of oxygen, which he knew he desperately needed in his current state of pre-arousal, Law pulled away from your lips and chuckled warmly at the whine you released from your lungs. His golden eyes analyzed every detail of your face, your eyes half open, gazing up at him as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered to you. The way your cheeks were warm with your flush, radiating to his own skin, and the way your lips were kiss-swollen and pouting for more.

“God…” Law groaned. “I need you so bad.” In any normal circumstance, he would be humiliated at himself over his brazen statement and attitude. This was not a normal circumstance, and he was finally ready to relinquish that notion.

“Then take me, Law,” you responded, voice so light and airy that it was almost a whisper. “Finally take me, please.”

Once again, however, Law felt himself falter. “Really?”

Instead of growing frustrated, which his pent up anxiety told him you would, you huffed out a bright laugh. “Yes, Law, yes! You just kissed my brains out, we can’t play chicken again.” You finished your statement by lifting one of your legs, slotting it in between Law’s thighs and brushing over the swollen spot at the front of his jeans. The man above you sucked in a breath.

“Okay… okay we’re doing this.”

“We are.”

“And you’re really okay with it.”

With a light-hearted groan, you pulled the man back down into another fiery kiss, using the distraction to trail your hands from his waist to his chest, pulling his shirt up with you. He adjusted himself so he could support his weight on his knees as he caressed your own skin through your shirt, his calloused hands forgoing their inked marks as they ran soothing touches across your abdomen, following your lead by pulling your shirt up and over your head. You took advantage of sitting up yourself to loop your hands behind your back and unclasp your bra, lazily throwing it off the bed to join your two discarded shirts on the floor. Your bold hands resumed their touches, leaving goosebumps over Law’s sun-kissed skin in their wake. He kissed you with the rhythm of your fingers tracing the tattoo on his chest, gentle, tender caresses that had his heart, and the fluttering in his stomach, on overdrive. If he was more coherent, he would be worried about his heart giving out. In that same instant he shoved the feeling out of his head. There was no need to be rational anymore, not when you lay before him with your upper half completely exposed to the cold air of his bedroom.

Law didn’t even realize that he was in the process of removing your shorts until you lifted your hips and allowed him to pull them down to your knees, and then fully off of your legs. You gently pushed on his pecs to make him lean back and allow you to sit up, hands undoing the metal clasp of his belt and pulling it through the loops of his jeans. It clattered to the floor, but you paid no mind as you were eagerly undoing his button and zipper.

Suddenly, your hands stopped yet again. You nervously gazed up at him.

He gazed back down at you.

You shook your head, as if trying to rid yourself of anxious thoughts that floated around you like angry insects. “Sorry, I’m still kind of nervous,” you muttered.

“It’s okay, I am too.” Law’s hands ran down your arms before floating to your waist, squeezing your now-bare flesh once again. “You’re perfect. I love you.”

“Even if I haven’t shaved my legs in a week?” you asked. Your tone was light, but Law could still pick up on the notes of insecurity that echoed through the air around you.

“You think I care about that?” he asked, voice tender. He planted a chaste kiss to your lips once more, before pulling his body downward, leaving sugar-sweet kisses across your neck, breasts, stomach, and the waistband of your panties. His hands caressed your thighs as he sat up once more, trying to ignore the red-hot pressure in his groin, not helped by his open button and fly. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Look me in the eye and tell me that you think I care about your body hair. No one could’ve guessed that we’d be doing this right now, it’s not like you could’ve anticipated it.” He squeezed the plump flesh on your thighs playfully to punctuate his words.

You laughed once again, your voice sweeter than the freshest honey, carrying colors Law had never seen before. “You’re right, I know…” You averted your eyes, smiling so brightly that your lower lids were creasing. “Thank you, Law…”

A short-lived silence floated between your two bodies, before you pushed yourself up by your elbows yet again and continued with your initial quest of undoing his tight jeans and getting them off his body as quickly as humanly possible. He eagerly helped you, shimmying back and forth while you pulled his pants down before they were finally off and thrown to the side on the floor. Your angle, leaning back on your elbows and gazing at Law’s form above you, was more heavenly than the finest artwork. You could tell the man started to grow anxious as your eyes unpacked his body from head to toe, but how couldn’t you?

“You’re beautiful too, Law, so fucking gorgeous.” You used one hand to pull his shoulder down, planting light kisses on the corners of his mouth. “The most handsome man I have ever seen in my life.”

“Oh please,” he huffed, kissing you back where he could. One of his hands supported him on the mattress, while the other supported him by your waist.

“I mean it, you’re ethereal,” you moaned. As much as you wanted to make him sit and listen to you ramble about how much you adored his defined muscles and lean physique, you didn’t want to make him more uncomfortable than you knew he was already dealing with. You had come this far, you didn’t want to ruin it.

More intense, sloppy kisses ensued, hands trailing up and down bodies, before Law accidentally lowered himself on you. He jolted at the feeling of his erection brushing against your pelvic area, suddenly reminding him of what exactly the goal here was. He pulled away from you, holding eye contact.

“Are you really sure you want this?” he asked, voice low and cautious, as if he was trying not to startle an animal.

“More than anything, Law. Do you?”

He paused for longer than he cared to admit, his mind running wild. He loved you so intensely, so deeply, that he wished he could become one with you on an atomic level. He wanted to spend every moment with you for the rest of his life, regardless of how long it was. He wanted to accompany you through all of your achievements and dreams, just like he hoped you would do for him. He wanted a permanent home in your brain, in your heart, in your soul, where you wouldn’t let him leave, where you would hold him so tightly in your warm embrace for the rest of time.

He snapped out of his zone when your hand caressed his scruffy cheek. “Law?”

“Yes,” he responded quickly. “Yes, god, yes, I want this. I want you.”

Another kiss followed, before breaking apart once more.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you started. “How exactly do we begin?”

Despite your wishes, Law couldn’t help the chuckle that bubbled from his lungs. “Shit, we’re hopeless.” You laughed along with him, making more anxiety dissipate from his chest like a steam rising from a lagoon on a warm summer morning..

It wasn’t like either of you were strangers to how human sex worked, just like how neither of you were strangers to the orgasm, it was more so the act of actually beginning it, and doing it together. It wasn’t as simple as slipping it in, thrusting a few times, and cumming. There was much, much more to it. You two just needed to figure out how to get there.

You shivered under the sensation of Law’s fingertips teasing the waistband of your panties before pulling them down slightly, waiting for your indication that you were ready to be completely and totally bare in front of him. He bit down his elation as you lifted your hips, allowing the thin fabric to lower from your ass and down your thighs as Law removed them from your body, so gentle with the fabric, treating it as if it was sacred. The notion left you feeling scorched, heart beating with untapped urgency. The feeling of the cold air of the bedroom hitting your wet folds left you rubbing your thighs together, lip quivering. You reached a hand forward yourself, tugging at Law’s own waistband and gazing at him through your eyelids, a silent plea to reveal himself to you as well.

After a deep, shuddering breath, the man slipped his boxers down his legs, throwing them onto the pile of your discarded clothing. When he looked back at you, he was taken aback by the sight of your wide eyes, pupils dilated as you examined his cock. He couldn’t help but smirk. He didn’t think he was anything to write home about, seeing himself as average all around, but he just barely caught the way you sucked your lower lip in with your teeth, and it filled him with a sense of excitement, pride, and longing that he thought he’d never experience, let alone enjoy.

“Hey, eyes up here, darling,” he urged with a lighthearted chuckle.

Flustered, your eyes darted up to his face, and you grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

He pressed a small kiss to the apex of your nose. “Don’t worry about it.”

Unlike your previous pauses, each kiss and caress from Law and the way his sultry words kept you anticipating made the mood stay relatively consistent throughout. You felt confident, cherished, and adored by the man above you, and you just hoped he knew how much you wanted to worship him for the rest of your days.

Running a tattooed hand along your outer thigh before gracing over the junction of your hip and dipping his fingers in between your plush limbs easing them open for him, he eyed your expression and stated, “Tell me where you like to be touched.”

You held yourself up on one elbow, splitting your legs more for Law to get comfortable in between them as you allowed your free hand to roam to your pussy, using two fingers to part your lips. Law watched analytically as your pointer and middle fingers rubbed the hood of your clit at the very top, and he listened intently to the way your breath hitched ever so slightly at the cotton-soft pleasure that emanated from your own fingertips.

“Right here,” you breathed.

Law’s own fingers were quick to replace your own. He caressed the tiny spot, analyzing every twitch of your muscles or change in your breathing pattern. His fingers dipped lower, watching your expression for any sign of discomfort as he ran his fingers along your opening, stifling a grin at how wet you had gotten from long minutes of intense making out and awkward repeated confirmations of consent. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The way your natural lubrication coated his fingers was alluring, and he used the fluid to rub and press against your clit once more, reveling in the way you bit down moans each time he changed up his pattern of movement. He watched, intoxicated on the moment, as your hands grabbed at your own breasts, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. While continuing his motions on your clit, he leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss right above your left breast. When your hand moved, he gently bit down on your soft skin, basking in the whine that left your tense throat. He licked the faint red mark his teeth left behind, knowing it wouldn’t even bruise. Maybe some other day he could really sink his teeth into you, but for now he wanted to hold back and enjoy your first time.

Your breathing was growing more labored as his fingers danced expertly over your soaked clit, when you shot your hand forward and gripped his wrist in a silent plea to stop.

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyebrows immediately wrinkling in concern.

“I’m fine, I just…” your trembling hand rubbed his forearm. “I want you inside me. Like… right now. Please.”

Law hummed. He pulled his hand away from your cunt, leaving your now saturated folds exposed to a new level of chill. You watched through half-lidded eyes as your boyfriend grabbed his one pillow from beside the metal bed frame. He gently tapped your hip, wordlessly encouraging you to lift yourself enough for him to slide the pillow under you.

“This will support your back, hopefully,” he mentioned quietly. “And hopefully reduce some initial discomfort.”

You smirked. “Did you do some research?”

Law scoffed, flustered, averting his intense golden eyes. “No, I just… assumed.”

You laughed, shimmying against the pillow and getting yourself comfortable. “Trafalgar Law, if you don’t stop acting so cute we’re not going to get anywhere.”

The man’s grip on your hips tightened slightly, and he couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his lips at your statement. “You really okay with this?”

You nodded affirmatively. “Yes.”

Law inhaled a deep breath, reaching down to take a gentle hold of his own cock that, remarkably, stayed completely hard and eager this entire time. (He was relieved there was nothing wrong with him.) He gave himself a few strokes with his fist, forcing down a groan at the sensation as you watched him with ravenous eyes that devoured his every movement. You shivered as his fingers ran up and down your cunt yet again, before rubbing your slick on his cock with a tiny, breathy moan. Lord, you needed him badly.

The raven-haired man adjusted his position between your legs and tested the waters by running the head of his dick through your wet folds. The feeling was already something you were addicted to.

“I’m going to ask one last time,” he said, voice low and apprehensive. “Are you okay with this?”

For the final time, your eyes fluttered open, caressing a hand over his cheek. “Yes.” Finally.

Law used two fingers to pull apart your folds, exposing the entrance to your vagina that seemed to wait so patiently just for him. He pressed the head of his cock into you, inhaling a shaky breath at the way your anatomy seemed to suck him in. He stopped when he heard you groan slightly under him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, it just hurts a little bit.”

He pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth. “That’s normal, you’ve never done this before.”

You nodded, finding endless comfort in his words and touches.

Little by little, Law eased himself into you, having you adjust your hips every now and then to get used to not only the feeling of having something inside of you so tightly, but also to find the most comfortable position for you. You did find great relief in the way the pillow below your hips allowed subtle leverage, making his entrance much easier on the both of you. Law twirled his fingers with your own, capturing your lips in an addictive, sultry kiss as he pushed the rest of his way into you. He groaned into your mouth, the feeling of his cock leaving your walls molding around him a sensation so foreign yet so delicious. Similarly, your legs quivered at the red hot feeling of Law’s cock fully enveloped within your warmth, each way you moved reminding you that he was in you, connected to you in the deepest, most intimate way possible. The feeling of being stretched and intruded upon slowly went away, helped in part by Law’s constant kisses and caresses across your body, keeping you both plenty aroused and waiting.

You wiggled your hips against his delighting in the groan that left his clenched jaw.

“That feels too good,” he sighed into your neck.

“You can move,” you urged, finally getting used to the fulfilling sensation.

Law’s hand squeezed your’s, and you squeezed back. Supporting himself with his other hand on your hip, he rocked his hips slightly, testing the waters of your body’s reactions to each movement. His entire body felt on fire. He was sure that water would evaporate off of his skin at the slightest contact. He clenched his jaw, uttering a wavering groan at the warm wetness that surrounded his cock with each movement, the sounds emanating from your joined bodies equal parts alluring and humbling.

He quickly found a rhythm that seemed to work for the two of you, angling his hips upward as best he could to attempt to focus his thrusts on the spot at the roof of your vagina right below your pelvic bone. (Okay, maybe he had done more than a little research.) Your eyes were clenched shut, mouth slightly open as you exhaled shallowly.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Good… great,” you uttered back, breathless. “You feel really good… you feel amazing, Law.”

Law’s heart once again skipped a few beats at the praise. To know he was bringing you pleasure, making sure you were getting as much out of this as he was, was exactly what he needed to hear.

He disconnected your hands, leaving both of your palms face up and empty next to your head. His free hand now traveled back down in between your legs, rubbing three fingers against your neglected clit. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced before, back arching off the bed. It was a pressure deep within your abdomen that flared like a hot coal, partnered with zaps and zings of electric shocks as sweet as sugar, the two sensitive areas of your anatomy fusing together with Law’s touch and movements to form a combination that had you moaning without restraint. You couldn’t help yourself.

“Oh fuck, Law, shit,” you groaned, neck craning back.

Law took advantage of your exposed skin by peppering sweet kisses along your jugular and Adam’s apple, before sitting his lips in the soft flesh right above your collarbone and biting down with more force than before. You whined at the feeling, shivering as his tongue once again licked the deeper marks, leaving your skin wet and cold, and at the same time blazing hot. The groans he was releasing so close to your ear only spurred your passion more, your own hands traveling to his shoulders and holding him close, fingers gripping his skin as best you could as his thrusts deepened in tandem with the pace of his fingers on your clit.

Law’s entire lower body felt on fire, electric, a magenta pressure building deep within his abdomen and radiating outward. He felt his dick twitch inside you and he bit down a moan, instead relishing in the way you let go one of your own at the feeling of his dick rubbing against your G-spot with every other snap of his hips. You lifted your knees up, feeling him even deeper than before, and you gasped his name.

“Shit, Law,” your legs quivered next to his body. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Your body involuntarily met him thrust for thrust, the pressure from your movements added to Law’s ministrations over your clit leaving you panting and writhing beneath him. You were a sight to behold for Law’s sore eyes. He could drink you for the rest of eternity and never grow tired of your taste.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the pace of his hips increasing as he felt the familiar, yet foreign, sensation of his impending orgasm. This was nothing like using his hand, it was so much better, worlds better. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to masterbate on his own again, knowing nothing could surpass the way your pussy clenched around his dick like you were sculpted for each other and only each other.

“Ah… ah, fuck, Law,” you moaned, voice cracking as your back arched. The white hot pleasure from your pussy reverberated throughout your entire body, leaving your skin both icy and on fire as colors flashed behind your eyelids. Your fingers gripped Law’s shoulders harder, surely leaving marks in his skin.

Your orgasm caught you completely off guard, body snapping as waves of pink and purple flashed behind your closed eyelids as your pelvis shook and trembled against Law’s wavering thrusts. Your moans were unrestrained now, freely calling into the stifling air around your bodies, embracing each millisecond of the addictive, powerful sensation that danced across your waist, your womb, your legs. Your orgasm was the final push Law needed before he frantically pulled out of your sopping pussy and released onto your lower stomach, his hips gyrating as he fisted his cock with shuddering breaths and deep groans. His abs flexed continuously as his muscles contracted from the sheer force of his own release.

The two of you remained in the same positions you finished in for what felt like hours, desperately catching your breath. Your legs continued to shake as you relaxed your muscles and let your weary limbs finally fall back onto the mattress. You opened your eyes, taking in the ethereal view of Law’s trembling body over your own, his head tilted back, black hair tousled out of place. His fist remained around his cock, unmoving, still too shocked to move. Your own shaky hand reached for him, ghosting your fingers along his abdominal muscles and breaking him out of his orgasmic trance to look at you with glazed, golden eyes.

His expression, fucked out and boundlessly flustered, made you laugh. You started laughing uncontrollably, shoulders shaking as you tried to restrain yourself, choosing instead to pull him down with you, burying your gleeful smile and airy laughs into his neck instead. Law cringed slightly at the feeling of his own release rubbing between your two stomachs, but the way you embraced him in your exposed glory, completely vulnerable to him, made him instantly forget about the temporary discomfort. He used his less dirty hand to cup your cheek, tilting your head to press a smattering of kisses along your face before resting on your smiling lips, loving the feeling of joyful laughs still leaving your spent body.

“I’m sorry I’m laughing again,” you said quietly. “That was incredible.”

Law couldn’t blame you for your reaction in the slightest. After weeks of pent up anxiety, miscommunication and worry, the two of you had finally experienced what you had been longing for so deeply, so carnally. Law wanted to make sure you could feel the same joy, the same euphoria, each time you were with him in every moment you spent together. Your laugh was freeing. Your unrestrained giggles the reminder that he so desperately needed.

There was nothing wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with you.

The moment comes naturally. And Law promised himself right then and there, as you clutched onto his body above you like you would disappear without him, that he would do anything to keep that smile on your face, the anxiety out of your mind, and his heart in your hands.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

BONUS

You would describe Law like a scallop. A hard outer shell that refuses to open up, bumbling blindly through the water away from anything he deems as a threat. His grace and elegance as a pirate captain came with countless years of adjusting to normal human interaction, which left him in an odd stance between an awkward, struggling kid, and a maladaptive, anxious adult. But when the ridged shell was finally cracked open, exposing the soft, fragile insides, was when the facets of his personality would radiate forth. He was dynamic, emotional, impulsive, selfish, fearful, confident, boundlessly strong and yet weaker than a detached leaf all at the same time.

And you loved that about him. Your love for the stone-cold pirate captain ran deeper than the trenches of the ocean you sailed above, was warmer than the sun that beat down on the outer deck when you surfaced, and was more tender than the finest cuisine.

Your new favorite thing about Law, to add to the ever growing list that you kept within the recesses of your mind, was the fact that he was still just as apprehensive around you as he had been when you first started dating. A few nights ago, he came all over your stomach as you lay beneath him a shivering, trembling mess, but when you gently knocked on his office door to wish him a good morning, he looked at you with eyes as wide as saucers, mouth curled in a nervous, boyish grin, kissing you like it was his first ever. Like a scallop, he would open and close sporadically, spoiling you with his delectable emotions behind the safety of closed doors, and impressing you with his harsh command of his crew on the outside.

He laughed at you when you told him your analogy.

“A scallop? I’m a scallop to you?” he asked, chuckling as he scribbled down notes in a wrinkled, coffee-stained notebook. His entire back and neck were hunched over the metal counter in his medical ward, taking inventory of the medicines he kept stocked behind the locked cabinets.

You were bustling around the room behind him, diligently cleaning dust, sand, and salt residue out of sterile corners and shelves. “Yes! You’re hard on the outside and soft on the inside, what’s not to get?”

“Scallops move like bumbling idiots. I would appreciate something more like a crab. Or maybe even a lobster.” When you turned your head to face him, he was already gazing at you, his left hand making a pincer motion similar to a crab’s claw.

You snorted. “Just for that, you’re going to be a slug now. No more shells for you.”

“You’re just gonna leave me out in the open like that? Not even a skeleton?”

“Fine, you can be a squid.” You wrung your damp washcloth into the metal bucket situated on the floor by your feet, draping it over the side to free your hands and wipe them dry on your boiler suit.

The laugh that bubbled out of Law made your heart flutter in your chest. You never would have guessed that your casual, stupid banter while doing mindless chores would be something you’d enjoy so much, but you had come to realize that you enjoyed every aspect of life a whole lot more when it was spent with Law. In the days that followed your successful first shared sexual encounter, especially. Since then, you have started to feel so much more confident in yourself, in your looks, your abilities, and your feelings. You felt like you understood your boyfriend on an even deeper level now, cherishing the way he seemed to unfold himself in front of you, knowing that there was almost nothing left to hide from you anymore. You had seen each other at your most vulnerable, and the outcome was more beautiful than the most glorious sunset.

Law’s voice snapped you back to reality. “I think you’d be a Mola Mola.”

You threw your wrung-out towel across the room, giggling as it smacked his hunched back in between his shoulder blades. It made a squelching sound as it plopped to the floor behind him. He whipped around to face you, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Is the sunfish mad at me?”

“To think you view me so low! I’m heartbroken!” You feigned great offense, placing the back of your hand over your forehead and swaying back and forth. “My life is ruined now, my beloved thinks I’m a sunfish!”

Law bent down to grab the towel you had thrown at him before balling it in his fist and lobbing it back at you, smirking as it landed on your chest and stayed there. Before you had the chance to chuck it back at him, the door to the medical bay creaked as it was pulled open. You felt your heart pang as Law’s expression immediately switched from bright and gleeful to his usual stoic, grouchy demeanor. He still hid from even his crew, only showing his true colors very, very sparingly. You both looked towards the door as Uni popped his head in.

“Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to let you know dinner’s ready. Jean Bart cooked tonight.” The masked man quickly stepped back out into the hallway, letting the heavy steel door close on its own.

Your eyes glanced back toward Law as his expression softened only slightly. You bent down to place the washcloth over the rim of your cleaning bucket before finally walking over to your boyfriend and nudging his arm.

“Sorry,” you simply murmured.

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Your face changed so quickly, like you didn’t want him to see you smiling.”

Law hummed, a sound that stayed low in his throat. He turned back toward the counter, picking up his pen once more and writing a few extra bullets in his notebook. You stood patiently, lips sealed as you waited for his next movement or word.

“Don’t ever apologize for making me smile,” he said, tone deep and volume minimal.

Your stomach did backflips in your abdomen.

Law’s pen made a clicking sound as he placed it on the counter, lifting his notebook to shut the cover and store it in a specific labeled drawer. He finally turned back to gaze at you, face slowly softening more and more. He approached you, running an inked hand across your cheek and down to your neck before placing a sweet kiss on the corner of your lips.

“I still don’t know how to share with my crew what I share with you.”

You knew what he meant. His emotions, his insecurities, all the vulnerabilities that he revealed to you behind closed doors in the form of nervous kisses and wavering whispers were sides of himself that he would never be caught showing his crew. He needed to keep the facade of the strong captain they needed him to be, unmoving when the waves violently rocked his ship and unwavering when his skin would be sliced by an enemy’s sword. Law’s biggest issue remained that he couldn’t even say the word ‘emotion’ without feeling like less of a man. You just hoped that, one day, he’d be able to say it.

You smiled. “I know, it’s hard for you. But that’s alright.”

Law would wonder until his final breath how he was lucky enough to find himself with a person as understanding and sympathetic as you were. It wasn’t fair to you that he kept himself closed off until he was forced to open, how you poured your heart out to him at every waking moment while he struggled to share his feelings with you. You told him ‘I love you’ many times even before your first time sleeping together, and he was yet to say it back. The words felt like molten iron on his tongue.

But you stayed by his side regardless. Your love never wavered. You didn’t care how long it would take him to say those three words to you as long as you were able to keep him with you, as long as you were able to kiss him and thread his fingers through yours and feel his body pressed against yours under the warm sheets in his bed. You didn’t care as long as he was there.

Law sucked in a deep inhale through his nostrils as his golden eyes examined your expression. You simply gazed back at him, waiting for any response.

“You’re wonderful,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” You grabbed his hand in yours pulling him towards the door. “Let’s go get food before your crew devours it all!”

He followed you with no protest, gripping your hand in his. When he squeezed, you squeezed back. Before you rounded the final corner to enter the galley, Law pressed a kiss to your cheek.

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