Valen-yamyam16 - Es Que Yo Quiero La Combi Completa

Group Chat Chaos 18

(Bayverse) TMNT x GNReader

Warning: Profanity, Crude Humor

(Y/N): do you guys have tails?

LeoDaVinci: yes

(Y/N): how comes I’ve never seen them?

WreckItRalph: because we wear clothes..?

(Y/N): lemme see yours.

WreckItRalph: ..what?

DonDon: why are we discussing this?

MagicMike: I’ll show you mine!!

LeoDaVinci: you will do no such thing.

(Y/N): I just wanna see the tail

WreckItRalph: leave me alone.

MagicMike: I’LL SHOW YOU MY TAIL!!

LeoDaVinci: NO ONE IS SHOWING ANYONE ANYTHING!!

DonDon: what is happening rn?

(Y/N): raph lemme see dat ass

WreckItRalph: stop talking to me you little pervert

(Y/N): after u send me a pic of dat ass

WreckItRalph: I won’t hesitate to file a restraining order

(Y/N): I won’t hesitate to clap those cheeks

WreckItRalph: EXCUSE ME?!

LeoDaVinci: (Y/N) NO!!

(Y/N): SHUT UP YOU PRUDE!!

DonDon: I need to schedule another therapy appointment...

LeoDaVinci: you need to behave yourself

(Y/N): send me yours then

LeoDaVinci: absolutely not.

MagicMike: PICK ME!!

DonDon: this gc is my 13th reason why.

support group

Y/N: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Bo.

Bo: I hate myself.

Y/N: Alright, square up.

HOW 2005 doodles.

Something a bit more light-hearted because I love these horrible twins.

Also, I'll throw some angsty stuff soon :)

katakuri is too big. his cock is so heavy and thick that you're honestly afraid of having it inside of you. like c'mon , he's seventeen feet tall . how the fuck is that dick fitting in you?

but he doesn't care bout allat, he'll stimulate his dick anyway he can. rub it on your soft tummy as his balls graze against your thighs, the mushroom tip of his huge dick rubbing against your boobs as you press them together.

katakuri will rub his dick on your back, rubbing his heavy balls against your ass as he does so, giant hands resting on your waist.

if you get antsy about having something deep in that greedy lil cunt, he'll finger you. his fingers are so thick that it honestly feels like getting fucked, he'll even unwrap his mouth and eat you out as a treat.

after all he does love sweets .

Don't forget to give your insecure clown his daily smooches.

Kiss, Marry, Kill: Part 1/2 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy overhears a private conversation and uses that knowledge against you. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~3k (of 5.3k) Warnings: Clown abuse, strong language, incorrect use of a straight razor.

Never had you on my mind Now you're there all the time Never knew what I missed until I kissed ya

---

By all accounts, Buggy should be having a great time. There's food, alcohol, gambling... hell, there's even a swimming pool. Not that he can partake, but he can live vicariously.

Instead, he's got a whole school of shark eyes trained on him as he sits on a stool next to Arlong's throne. This water park sucks.

He's not chained up or anything. The threat of a couple dozen sets of teeth ripping into him is reason enough to sit perfectly still, keep his mouth shut, and try to look as small as possible. No sudden movements, no change in expression, no—

"Kiss the clown, marry the waiter, kill Pink Hair."

Buggy sits bolt upright and looks around. Who the hell said that?

Arlong doesn't even deign to look at him. "Hear something?"

Clear. Crisp. With a little bit of an accent, maybe. He's heard it somewhere recently, but where?

Certainly not here. It was a woman's voice, and Arlong Park is a bit of a sausage party at the moment. Not that he can tell on sight with fishpeople.

"Answer me, clown," Arlong rumbles.

He forgets who he's talking to for a moment. "Eavesdropping's an art," he snaps. "You can't rush art."

Big mistake. Arlong responds with a low, wet growl. "It's been three days. My patience is running thin."

Quiet chatter. The clinking of silverware. Someone chewing with their mouth open. The little pirates are at a restaurant, it seems.

He relays this to Arlong. He's less than pleased. He enunciates every word to show his teeth. "Care to be more specific?"

A shudder crawls up the back of Buggy's neck. He takes a swig of his drink to cover it. He places his fingers over his remaining ear, straining.

"You're shitting me." That voice he recognizes. The redhead. The one who ruined his show. The one Arlong's so interested in. Nadi? Nani? Noni?

The other woman speaks. "Nami, you rejected him," she says. "Girl Code only applies if you were dating."

Nami. That's her, the conniving little bitch. "No, not the waiter. I mean you'd seriously kiss the clown? He nearly killed us."

He'd recognize Rubber Boy's voice anywhere, the little shitheel. "And his nose would get in the way."

The mystery woman speaks up again. "That's nothing new. I’ve smacked noses with plenty of guys."

Okay, that narrows it down. It’s not the redhead, it can't be Rubber Boy or the bounty hunter, so that leaves...

...you. Of course it's you. How could he forget you? You're the only one who laughed at Axe-Hand Moron. Granted, it was more like a snnrrrk and you immediately clapped your hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror, but it was a laugh all the same.

And in that moment, he knew he liked you. Bad sense of humor. Cute smile. A little bashful. He appreciates that. Sure, you helped humiliate him not an hour after the fact, but all's fair in love and piracy.

"Look, I'm not saying it’s a good idea," you continue, "but sometimes you gotta live dangerously."

The bounty hunter speaks, dry and droll. "Storms are dangerous. Bar fights are dangerous. You're just insane."

"Oh, c'mon, you're not seriously gonna hold Fu..." You pause. "Kiss Marry Kill answers against me."

So that's what's going on. "They're just chattering like they always are," he says to Arlong.

Arlong does not like that answer. He snatches Buggy up by the neck, lifting him clear off the ground with only one hand.

"Wait! Wait wait wait! They're still talking! I might have something!" He kicks and struggles, but it's no use.

You speak. "You think everything pops off? ‘Cause a gal could really— hyurk.”

Laughter all around as you’re cut off by something. Sounds like you choked.

“Thank you, Usopp,” Nami says. “I am not having that conversation.”

Arlong saunters over to the pool, carrying Buggy like a ragdoll. He has precious few seconds now. C'mon, he wills them, say something useful!

A slap, a spit, then a couple of hard coughs. “Nice shot,” you wheeze. “Use the unspicy peanut next time. I think I burned my windpipe.”

The new guy — Usopp — scoffs. “Spicy? Please. This isn’t spicy. Baratie spicy is barely a zip. Now, you want spicy, you gotta hit up the Great Pepper Isles. Their chilis are so hot, I had an out-of-body experience.”

And boom, there it is. Right as he's about to be dropped into the water, his ticket to life.

“Baratie! They're at Baratie," he chokes out. "That floating restaurant. That really nice one I got thrown out of, the pricks."

It was Cabaji's fault. Turns out whipping a unicycle out at the bar is frowned upon. Who'd've thunk.

Arlong 'smiles.' All teeth and gums and no mirth at all. "Consult our charts," he says to the nearest fishman. "I'll prepare our compass."

He grabs Buggy by the hair and yanks. In the interest of not getting his neck broken, he separates his head from his body. Unfortunately, gravity takes over and his body plunges into the pool.

Weakness swamps him like a rogue wave. He can't say a word as he's stuffed into a cloth sack and everything goes dark.

In both ears, all he can hear are the sounds of laughter.

---

Someday, Buggy will learn not to run his fat mouth. That day is not today.

Usopp barges into the galley and lobs his head through the air, a low slow toss. He only has a moment to appreciate not being overhand pitched before landing on the floor. Not on his nose, fortunately, but it still hurts.

He points at the blonde guy — Sanji? Sanji. "I can't take it anymore. He's your problem now. I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

He tramps off as Buggy flips himself upright. “What’s his problem?” he asks no one in particular. “Sheesh, you make one ‘your mom’ joke and—“

A decidedly unmanly yelp escapes him as he's popped up into the air. The world spins and turns and he braces himself to hit the ground again, only to be caught in soft hands. He's spun around...

...and comes face to face with you, regarding him with curious, contemptuous eyes.

Oh, you're even prettier up close. The redhead's a looker, but she's still a kid. Soft. Pale. Set like a mousetrap, ready to spring and break some poor chump's neck at the slightest provocation.

But you? You're a grown-ass woman. Comfortable in your sun-kissed skin. A twinkle of experience in your eye and the ease of someone who's been sailing her ship for years.

He can't help but smile. "Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here, gorgeous," he says with a wink.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Sanji shoot him a glare. Your expression remains cool and uninterested. Shifting his head to your side, you hold him against your hip like a laundry basket. Even through your trousers, the soft swell of flesh warms his cheek.

“Weren't you just on buggysitting duty?” you ask Sanji.

Buggysitting? Really? "I'm right here, y'know," he grumbles.

He's ignored, as per usual. Sanji straightens up and huffs. “New guy always gets the shit jobs.”

“Let’s trade,” you say. “You take my watch and I’ll mind our chatty compass.”

Rude. “I’m still right here.”

Sanji shakes his head. “Go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it, of course."

Wow, that was a bad line. Buggy makes his displeasure known with a retch.

“Sleep is for people who don’t have coffee.” You flap your hand toward the door. "Shoo.”

Sanji glances between you and Buggy, but heads for the door. "Any trouble at all, love, and I’m a shout away."

A little smile colors your voice. "If he starts gnawing my ankles, you’ll be the first to know."

Sanji returns the smile, sickeningly sweet. As he leaves, you sit at the table, placing Buggy across from you.

He wants nothing more than to plant his leg on a stool, lean in on his knee, and give you a toothy grin. But alas, he must settle for the grin. "Alone at last. Come here often?"

You don't even bother to look at him, too preoccupied with picking up a very shiny straight razor and a strip of leather. Muscle ripples under your skin as you slide the blade back and forth.

"So you're the barber," he says. You don't respond. "Can't imagine you're too busy on a ship with a bunch of babyfaces." Still nothing. "Don't suppose I could get a shave, then? Last time I used a straight razor, I ended up like this!"

"Barber surgeon," you say as you inspect the blade. Dissatisfied with some invisible blemish, you continue stropping.

He shrugs, only to remember he can’t. "Say, doc, I can't feel anything below my neck. Could you take a look?”

Irritation tints your voice. “Not a doctor,” you say. You’ve clearly had to explain this countless times before. “Doctors treat the inside. I fix up the outside.”

“Splitting hairs, Miss Sawbones.”

Shiff shiff shiff goes the razor. "If you don't stop talking, we’re gonna see if cutting off the nose really does spite the face. Might be an improvement for you.”

That’s just low. “Keep talking shit and this bark is gonna turn into bite.”

You finally look up. You level the razor at him, glaring down the blade. “You’re the only one talking, clown.”

Damn. Your eyes are pretty. Warm as the first sunbeam of a summer morning, but dark as the blotches he gets in his eyes when he looks into a spotlight by accident. Hot like one, too. Heat lurks below the dark surface, like warm charcoal about to catch fire.

Nerves ball up in his absent chest. He swallows them and summons his bravado. “Can ya blame me? I’ve got shit else to do. I’ve met parrots with more to say than you.”

"Count the cracks in the ceiling."

"One, two, three—“ He gives an exaggerated groan. “Didn't you say you were gonna make coffee? Can I get in on that?"

You scoff, but you do stand. "Last thing you need is caffeine.”

“The last thing I need is to be held hostage by a bunch of greenhorn nobodies,” he says, "and yet here I am."

“Sucks to suck,” you say. You pull a pot out of a cupboard and fill it with water. “How do you take it? Sugar? Cream?”

“Black. Like my heart.”

You let out that snnnrrrrk of a suppressed laugh again. What a nice sound. “Something we got in common.”

“Black heart or black coffee?”

“Yes.”

Such a simple, easy response. Not even particularly clever. But the delivery with no hesitation, no intonation, no second guessing the punchline. He laughs. “I knew I liked you!”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “You try to kill everyone you like? No wonder you have no friends.”

He hops to the edge of the table. Not an easy feat with only a stump. “C’mon, babe. All’s fair in love and piracy.”

Calling you babe was a blindfolded over-the-shoulder shot in the dark, but it lands. You add a smile to your glance. “I’ll give you that and nothing more.”

Somewhere, miles away, his heart flutters. He lets it. “Will you still give me coffee?”

“Only if you shut up ‘til this water boils.”

In this state, he’ll take any scrap of stimulus he can get. He bites his tongue and bites it hard, willing himself not to speak.

Silence creeps in. Silence leads to stewing, and stewing leads to bad thoughts. Bad feelings. Lonely feelings. Like how long it’s been since he’s had a friendly cuppa joe with someone. Or had someone honestly laugh at his stupid jokes.

Especially not someone as quick as you. Or as pretty. Or with such a nice ass. Or who maybe-sorta-kinda-might-possibly be interested in him. Potentially. Hypothetically.

There’s no damn way, he tells himself. You’re humoring him. You’re definitely shacking up with that cook — young, charming, handsome. Or the bounty hunter, maybe — tall, dark, broody.

You wouldn’t give him a second glance. Him, a pathetic, painted, big-nosed weirdo. Who is currently a severed head. A temporary state, but still not a good first impression. Even though his actual first impression was trying to kill you and your buddies. This second first impression is just as bad.

A sharp groan escapes him before he can stop it. He eyes you, expecting you to snap at him or worse.

But you don’t. You pause in your pouring to peer over your shoulder at him, gaze soft. “Y’alright?”

There goes his heart again. Ugh. “Peachy. That coffee done yet?”

You curl your lip. “What’s got your panties in a knot?”

“Just realized I’m gonna need a straw or some shit.”

Still sneering, you set a shallow mug in front of him. “I’ll see what I can find.”

See? You definitely don’t like him. Stupid fucking jackass, letting his hopes get up. This is what he gets.

…A nice, warm cup of coffee. If you really hated him, you wouldn’t have given him coffee, right? Or be looking for a straw?

You’re just humoring him. You just want to save your friend. Catch more flies with honey and all that. He’ll be more agreeable if you’re friendly.

Across the room, you open a drawer. “Hey, bendy straws. Perfect.”

You’re breaking out bendy straws for him? There’s gotta be something there! At least a little something!

No. No way. Coincidence.

You place an oddly long straw into the mug. He realizes it’s three normal ones jammed end-to-end, creating a pipe ending just about level with his mouth.

You just pulled some engineering shit so he can drink coffee with you. There’s definitely something.

An ice cube plops into the mug and you slide back into the booth with your own cup. “Might dilute it a bit, but can’t have you burning your mouth.”

His distant heart flips again. He has to say something. Before he can convince himself otherwise. He says the first thing that comes to mind.

“So,” he says, “‘kiss the clown,’ eh?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s the first thing he thought of? Seriously? He braces himself for boiling coffee thrown in his face.

You freeze mid-sip, brows raised. “Excuse me?”

Okay, you don’t look mad. “Don’t deny it, babe. I heard everything. Kiss Marry Kill? Nice job keeping it kid-friendly, wink wink."

You stare at him with those dark eyes. "No idea what you're on about."

"I know you know. And I know you know I know." He waggles his eyebrows, hoping for a laugh, but he gets nothing.

You watch the steam swirling up from your mug. "What do you want me to say, exactly? That I chose you to kiss?"

"I just wanna know what possesses a woman to make her want to shack up with the guy who tried to kill her and her friends." He lips the straw into his mouth and takes a test sip. Still quite hot.

"Circumstance. Process of elimination. Being put on the spot." You pick up the razor. Your fiddling with it belies your agitation.

"Don't lie to me, babe," he croons. "I can see right through you."

You stare at him. "And what is it that you see?"

What does he see? "A woman on a knife's edge of self-satisfaction and self-destruction. Once bitten, twice shy, but when he comes around the third time, you just can't help yourself."

Your fiddling becomes more insistent. You break eye contact to look at the razor. He's hitting on something. Time to push some buttons.

"You bet on the wrong horse every time. You think it'll be different this time. But it never is." He smiles bitterly. "Something else we got in common. Birds of one ugly feather."

Your gaze softens as you return your gaze to him. "So you found the problem, Doctor Headshrink. What’s the prescription?"

Shoot your shot, Buggy. "Kiss the clown and maybe we'll find out."

You're still for a few moments. Then slowly, carefully, you slide your hand across the table. You pull him closer as you lean lower in your seat to eye level with him.

He can't help the way his breath quickens. It's been so, so long since he had any kind of intimacy. Your reedy fingers trace his jaw down to his chin. Your thumb comes up to pull at his bottom lip, and he lets out a satin-soft whimper as he opens his mouth to you.

You strike like a snake, yanking his tongue out with one hand and readying your razor with the other. His choke turns into a scream as you bring it down, severing his tongue clean at the root.

It's one thing to disconnect body parts. Pop a leg off, drop an ear — he’s used to it. But it's a different story when said part is supposed to be inside of him. His tongue waggles like a fish as he tries to return it to his mouth, but you keep a firm grip.

"You can have this back in the morning," you say.

He wants to cuss you out, but what comes out is ew bihck, whadda fuhck iss won wif ew, gif ih bahck.

You laugh. And lord, what a laugh you've got. Loud, like a party gone late into the hours of the night. Clattery, like a dozen plates shattering on the floor. Full of mirth, like a drunk on payday.

And, for the briefest of moments, his rage is forgotten. He wants to make you laugh like that.

But it returns with a vengeance, replaced with a desire to see you squirm.

---

<<< | mastahpost | >>>

"...Donnie jumped up to sit straight at the feeling of five fingers on his forehead instead of three; his eyes examined the foreign hand in front of him with fascination and his expression turned gleeful at the realization of what he was looking at, a five-fingered hand in golden brown that was his own."

HUMAN DONNIE! I drew this the other day but could only post it now along chapter 3 of my The little merturtle AU.

marriage of inconvenience, portgas d ace

one shot

summary: you, a well known marine, are apparently married to an infamous pirate, small warning: contains drinking/alcohol mentions

reblogs and interactions are appreciated!

wc: 1531

You couldn’t believe your eyes.

Commodore Y/N of the Marines and ‘Fire Fist’ Ace, Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates Spotted Together in Arctic Chapel! Unity between prominent figures in the Marine and Pirate worlds?

You crumpled the newspaper in your hands, tossing it into the trash can beside your desk. You pinched the bridge of your nose. A headache began to form due to the mess of the article and all you wanted was to forget about it.

A knock interrupted your thoughts and you let out an exasperated sigh. “Come in.”

“Good morning, Commodore Y/N,” an officer stepped into your office, back straight and hand in a salute.

On his free hand was a paper— the newspaper. Resting your head on your hand, you gestured towards the newspaper, the front page article practically taunting you. “What is it?”

“It’s just that… this article. Everyone saw it, and we were wondering…” The officer held the newspaper in both hands and you had the urge to gouge out your eyes seeing the article again. “Is this true?”

“As a Marine, do you really think it’s important to be wasting your time on an article clearly facetious?” He shook his head, though he was clearly nervous as you rested your hands on your desk and sat straight. “And more than that— why would I, a Commodore of the Marines, even be near a pirate such as ‘Fire Fist’ Ace, and especially in a well known wedding chapel?” Without even realizing, you were standing, your hands slamming your desk and shaking the papers on it.

The officer was practically shaking now. He bowed as low as possible before speaking, “With all due respect! I, and the rest of the ship, were just concerned as we were recently on Monkey Island…where Arctic Chapel is…and ‘Fire Fist’ Ace was spotted there…” His voice trailed out when he saw how your anger seemed to grow.

You placed your hands on your temples, closing your eyes. “Whatever. The article is a lie, now get out.”

He was surprised with your sudden change of tone, “Commodore, I—”

“Get out! And close the door.”

Without another word, the officer followed your orders. Even though the day just started, you wanted to be alone for the rest of it.

Of course your wishes would not be granted as your Transponder Snail began to ring.

And the next three hours were spent clarifying to everybody you knew—coworkers and friends and family and even higher-ups—that no, you were not married to ‘Fire Fist’ Ace and you were definitely not changing your name to Portgas Y/N.

The calls eventually died down, and you were able to rest. Though it was only for a few minutes as your Snail began to ring once again. You rolled your eyes, but picked it up nonetheless.

“For the last time, I am not married to ‘Fire Fist’ Ace!”

“Is that what you’ve been telling everyone? I thought you’d be more proud of being married to me.” You glared at your snail as it let out an obnoxious laugh.

“‘Fire Fist’ Ace. What is with that fabricated article?!”

“C’mon, we’re married, drop the title and just call me ‘Ace.’ You don’t see me calling you ‘Commodore Y/N.’”

“Answer the question!”

“I’ve no idea either. I woke up and saw the article, same as you. Though…”

“Though what?!” You didn’t realize you were yelling until there was a knock at your door from an officer asking if you were okay. You dismissed the officer, telling him there was no issue.

“Don’t you remember, last week? I don’t blame you for forgetting a bit since we were both drunk, but we did get married.”

“We did not! I—” You stopped, suddenly remembering the events of last week.

—

Your ship docked on Monkey Island, and you could finally indulge yourself in a rare, well-needed break. With the sun setting and the officers you lead staying onboard the ship, you decided the first thing you’d do was head to a bar.

“One Negroni, please!” You smiled at the bartender, ready to drink to your heart’s content.

A man’s voice came behind you, “Make it two.” You heard the man move the stool beside you to take a seat. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Commodore Y/N.”

“It seems my reputation precedes me—” you turned to your side, shocked to see ‘Fire Fist’ Ace grinning in front of you. He was a well known pirate, though this wasn’t the first time you had the displeasure of seeing him. “What are you doing here, ‘Fire Fist?’”

His grin didn’t seem to falter when he saw you receive your drink and take a small sip from it. “You’re not gonna chase me around or even try to arrest me?”

“I’m off duty, I have no reason to do more than what is needed right now.”

“Really? Not even a sense of justice?”

“Not when I’m off the clock.”

“Fair enough,” Ace paused, taking a huge swig of his own drink. “Y’know, you’re always chasing me around, I see you more than some of my own crewmates. And yet, I barely know anything about you.” He raised his drink, waiting for you to do the same. “Tell me about yourself.”

As soon as you finished your drink, you were asking for another. “Even if I’m off the clock, I won’t fraternize with a pirate like you.”

You really need to control your drinking habits.

“You mean to tell me your grandfather is Garp the Fist, Hero of the Marines, yet you and your brothers dreamt of becoming pirates?” You hiccuped, downing another shot you couldn’t even be bothered to count anymore.

“What’s wrong with that? Being a pirate is way cooler than being a marine!”

“It’s ironic ‘s all—and being a marine is wayyy cooler!”

“Nuh uh.”

“Uh huh!”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

“Whatever.” Ace attempted to pour more into his cup, emptying the contents of the bottle. “Ah, Y/NNN, let’s go now. ‘M bored here.”

“Wait! One more!” You held your cup in the air. Ace mirrored your actions until your cups collided together. The both of you pulled your cups away and drank the last bits of alcohol.

You tossed a bit of berri onto the counter, waving the bartender goodbye as you pulled Ace out of the bar. The city was full of lights, enough to blind the both of you in your drunken stupor.

“Did I ever tell you,” Ace slurred. “How pretty you look whenever you chase me?”

“You tell me all the time. Did I ever tell youuu how you would totally be my type if you weren’t a pirate? I always thought you would look soo good in a marine uniform.” You giggled.

“I would never be anything but a pirate!”

Your eyes caught sight of a building whose lights seemed to shine brighter than any other place. You tugged Ace’s arm and pointed to it. “Let’s go there.”

He squinted his eyes, looking in the direction you were pointing at. “Arctic…Chapel…You wanna get married?”

You didn’t bother to understand his question as your face began to feel warm. “Ace you can’t ask me like that!” You pulled him towards the building’s direction, “Let’s goo!”

Ace didn’t protest, even more excited than you.

——

As you recalled the events, you groaned. “Oh my god. We were drunk and went into that stupid chapel. We walked into that stupid chapel and now everyone thinks we’re married!” You started laughing in a way that almost scared Ace.

“But…we did get married.”

“No we didn’t.”

“We did. Hang on a second.” There were sounds of shuffling from Ace’s line on the snail. You heard the sound of a Cameko snail clicking. “Do you have a Proko snail with you?”

“I do…”

“Great, turn it on.”

You did as he said and turned your Proko snail on. As soon as it was on, it projected a marriage certificate. A marriage certificate with both yours and Ace’s names on it. Your eyes widened at the sight. There were official documents of you and Ace being married.

“Let’s get divorced.”

“Wha– why? I don’t wanna get divorced!”

“We were drunk, and I can’t be married to a pirate! I could lose my job over this!” You were screaming into the snail at this point.

“You could be a pirate and join the Whitebeard crew!”

“No way! I like being a marine. Why don’t you join the marines and you could work under my command!”

“C’mon, bein’ a pirate is way better than bein’ a marine!”

You were growing annoyed with Ace. Just as you were about to respond back, a knock interrupted your conversation with Ace. “C-commodore Y/N?”

“What is it? I’m busy.”

“You see, uh—”

Suddenly the door slammed open. Once you saw who opened the door, you ended your conversation with Ace and stood straight into a salute. “Vice Admiral Garp, sir.”

“No need to be so formal with me. We’re family now, aren’t we?” Garp walked into your office, dismissing the officer who led him there. “So, what’s this about your union with my grandson?

✦♡✦ Take A Break ✦♡✦

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your smile only grew. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gave him a soft smile, liking that idea.  

It was at least something, you supposed. 

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

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

Katakuri froze, eyes wide and staring at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it was his turn to use you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katakuri hid himself in his scarf in embarrassment.