Trafalgar D Law - Blog Posts
The heart pirates (Law’s crew) are not doctors?? Wdym “should we give a pill or a shot or something”?? Am I the only one that thought they were all medical professionals? Are they literally just regular people? Picking a fight with some of the most dangerous people in the sea for shits and gigs?
Had this on my IG story once with a meme, someone screenshot it, cropped my art out and used the meme. I found that pretty hilarious
Got me feeln all kinds of ways, don't ya
Pairings. M.D.Luffy- R.Zoro- V.Sanji - shanks - T.Law - P.D.Ace - E.Kid
summary. Fav part on your body
— (a/n): DARLING!, every inch of you is perfect. Plus request are open (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
Monkey D. Luffy – Your Hands
Luffy is fascinated by your hands. Whether they’re soft, calloused, or adorned with tattoos, he loves them because they’re yours. He’s constantly grabbing them, playing with your fingers absentmindedly, or holding them against his cheek. He especially adores when you feed him—his eyes light up every time you bring food to his lips, and he sometimes playfully nibbles on your fingers just to make you laugh. And when you ruffle his hair with those same hands? He melts.
But Luffy’s obsession goes beyond just holding them—he finds comfort in them. If he’s sleepy, he’ll take your hand and press it against his cheek, his lashes fluttering as he hums in contentment. If he’s excited, he’ll grab both of your hands and swing them around, his laughter ringing through the air. And if he’s feeling extra affectionate? He’ll kiss your palms, grinning up at you before pressing them against his face dramatically. And when you cup his face in your hands, gently stroking his cheek with your thumb, his usual playful energy softens. His lips part slightly, his expression suddenly unreadable. He stares at you—wide-eyed, almost mesmerized—before he suddenly grins, rubbing his face even further into your touch like an overgrown puppy. “Heh, your hands feel nice,” he mumbles, before promptly biting your finger again, his laughter echoing through the air as you scold him.
Roronoa Zoro – Your Back
Zoro has a thing for your back—he won’t outright say it, but his actions make it obvious. Whenever you wear something that exposes even a hint of skin, his eyes linger. He finds something undeniably strong yet elegant about the way your back curves when you move. If you have scars, he respects them deeply, running his fingers over them with quiet admiration. If you have tattoos, he studies them in silent appreciation, perhaps even tracing them when you’re resting together. And when you stretch, arms raised above your head, your back arching slightly? He has to physically stop himself from pulling you into his arms.
But if he’s feeling bold—or maybe just a little tipsy—he’ll step up behind you, fingers ghosting over the bare skin of your spine, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “You’re showing off, aren’t you?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s a rough edge to it, like he’s holding himself back. “Knowing you’re what man need”. If you turn to face him, expecting him to retreat, he doesn’t—he just smirks, eyes locked onto yours, before running a calloused hand down your back with slow, deliberate intent.
Sanji – Your Neck
Sanji worships your neck. It’s his personal sanctuary, a place where his lips constantly find their way. He loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as his hands settle on your waist. His kisses are slow and lingering, sometimes teasing, sometimes desperate. He whispers sweet nothings against your skin, praising you like you’re the most divine being in existence. If you wear something that exposes your neck—off-the-shoulder tops, delicate necklaces—he’s doomed. He’ll place kisses there absentmindedly, even in public, murmuring, “Mon amour, you’re making it very hard to behave.”
If you wear something that leaves your neck exposed—whether it’s an elegant dress or just a loose button-down—Sanji is done for. He’ll run his fingers over the delicate skin absentmindedly, his touch featherlight, his breath hitching slightly. And if you so much as tilt your head, offering him more space? He’s pressing his lips against you instantly, But his favorite? When you’re cooking together and he sneaks up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. His lips graze your neck as he murmurs something about how beautiful you look, and before you can even react, he’s already pressing a lingering kiss to your pulse. He lives for the way you shiver under his touch, and you can feel the satisfied smirk against your skin.
Shanks – Your Breasts
Shanks is shameless. He doesn’t try to hide his admiration—he fully embraces it. He loves resting his head against your chest after a long day, sighing contentedly as you run your fingers through his hair. He’s the type to slip his hand under your shirt absentmindedly, not necessarily with ulterior motives, but just to feel your warmth. If you wear something that accentuates your figure, expect him to tease you endlessly. He’s the kind of man who smirks, takes a sip of his drink, and drawls, “how god create something perfect like you” before pulling you into his lap.
He’s convinced that anything can make your breasts look even sexier, and once the idea enters his head, it stays there. One day, in that deep, playful voice of his, he casually suggests, “You know, a piercing right here—” his finger traces between your breasts, his touch featherlight yet purposeful, ”—would look absolutely stunning on you.” If you decide to tease him back, tilting your head with a smirk and saying, “How about nipple piercings instead?”—his reaction is immediate. His grip on your waist tightens, his pupils darken, and he exhales sharply through his nose, as if he’s just been hit with a vision too tempting to handle. He leans in, voice rough with amusement and something deeper, “get ‘em, I’d love to feel them on my tongue.”
Trafalgar Law – Your Collarbone & Shoulders
Law is a man of precision, and there’s something about your collarbones and shoulders that drives him crazy. Maybe it’s the sharp elegance of them, the way they peek through when you wear certain outfits, or the way his fingers trace over them absentmindedly when you’re lying together. He appreciates the way they flex subtly when you move, the strength hidden beneath softness. If you have tattoos here, he’s even more obsessed—he studies them with sharp, quiet interest, his fingers brushing over the ink as he asks about their meaning. And when he’s feeling particularly possessive? He marks you with slow, deliberate kisses, leaving faint traces of his touch behind.
When he’s feeling possessive, he won’t just admire—he’ll mark. His lips will graze over your collarbone, pressing slow, deliberate kisses, his grip tightening on your waist. He’s not one for open displays of affection, but the moment you’re alone? His hands are on your shoulders, his mouth tracing along your collarbone.
Portgas D. Ace – Your Hips
Ace has a love for your hips, and he’s not shy about it. His hands naturally settle there, whether he’s pulling you closer, steadying you after a stumble, or just holding you while talking. He likes the way they move when you walk—so much so that he often ends up staring without realizing it. He’s the type to hook a finger into the waistband of your pants or skirt, tugging playfully just to see your reaction. If you have dimples on your lower back, he’s obsessed, pressing kisses there whenever he gets the chance. And when you straddle his lap, resting your hands on his shoulders? He swears you’re going to be the death of him.
He loves how easy it is to tease you when he has his hands on your hips. He’ll grip them suddenly, just to see you react, and his grin only widens when you give him a playful shove. And if you’re straddling him, hands braced against his chest? He’s gone. His fingers tighten instinctively, his voice rough as he chuckles, “you make me feel like a dream”
But the real kicker? If you jokingly sway your hips while walking away, knowing he’s watching. He’ll groan dramatically, running a hand down his face, before catching up with you, tossing an arm around your waist. “You can’t just do that and expect me to hold on,” he huffs, but the way his fingers flex against your hip tells you he’s not complaining.
Eustass Kid – Your Thighs
Kid is obsessed with your thighs. He loves the way they feel under his hands, whether they’re soft or toned, and he often absentmindedly grips them when you sit close to him. He’s the type to pull you onto his lap with zero hesitation, his metal hand resting heavily on your thigh like a silent claim. If you wear something that shows them off—shorts, skirts, anything that accentuates their shape—he’s staring. And if you dare to tease him, pressing your legs together in a way that draws his attention? He’ll lean in, voice low and full of challenge, “you wanna play bad bitch role ~ hmm?”
If you wear something that shows them off—shorts, skirts, anything that accentuates their shape—he’s staring. He won’t even try to hide it, his red eyes dark with something dangerous. And if you catch him looking, raising an eyebrow at him in amusement? He just smirks and shrugs, completely unashamed. “Not my fault you look this divine.” But his absolute favorite? When you’re sitting with your legs draped over his lap, and he gets to absentmindedly trace patterns along your skin. His touch is rough yet oddly tender, and if you tease him about it, he just grunts, “Shut the fuck up,” but doesn’t stop. And if you so much as playfully squeeze his waist with your thighs? He growls, his grip tightening as he leans in, voice low and taunting, “they will look perfect spread, don’t you think?”
♀️🧨That frickin' beat💥♂️
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAW
🫶corazon🫶
Corazon and Law bc i watched his backstory like weeks ago and can’t stop thinking abt it
💝i'm ready💝
Gosh, I simp too much here like the art community be making me think such unholy stuff 🫣 😫
Love it :D
@chamsymondraws ty for letting me add cora in your drawing!! it was so fun drawing it i hope you like my final product :3
sorry if the quality of the image is sh!t idk why it did it D:
(tumblr im coming for u)
🥲what…?
Hypocrite that you are, for you to trust the chemicals in your brain to tell you they are chemicals. All knowledge is ultimately based on which we cannot prove. Will you fight or perish like a dog?
Sleepy Stalls |Master-list|
Trafalgar Law x !GN!Reader, Fluff, Crack, soft!law, unironically sweet, head-cannons, reader is a mechanic here, overprotective!law because secretly he cares too much, stubborn reader, comfort.
The Heart-Pirate Captain with an s/o who struggles with sleep...
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1st of all, this is insomniac central.
Law cannonly has nightmares, so you could definitely infer he struggles with sleep himself. Most likely kept up by whatever's gearing through his mind.
So he'd be incredibly understanding with you.
Law's the type to put you before himself. So no matter how tired he was he'd always check up on you. Whether you're working in the engine room, eating lunch, or relaxing in your room--he’d quietly seek you out.
Your captain was keen, and he’d been observant of your habits.
The surgeon wouldn't be overly concerned--but he would worry. You're his precious crew-mate and lover, so he's over-protective. Not in an annoying way, but selflessly.
Since Law is a doctor he would have a lot of sleep-aid. From herbal properties to medication—he'd give you anything you needed or asked for. Even if he ends up a hypocrite in the process.
He would act nonchalant and impassive about it, but deep down it’d wear on him.
Law would 100% have chill out time with you in his office if you were tired, or just in general.
In each-other’s presence, the company would drive away any restlessness. Including Law and yourself. So be prepared to snooze off in each other's arms or space.
If you'd cuddled him or sat close, he'd be out like a light. His head would be the first to fall against your shoulder or thigh with a bonk.
You wouldn't expect him to be the clingy type, but if you're there—he'd prefer you much closer.
He would find comfort in your pulse when you’re sleep. (As it wasn't often you were)
Law would tenderly take in your snoozing form, gently crouching beside you to take your pulse. His own worries would ease when your pulse thrummed softly against the pads of his fingers.
When you’re asleep, he’d be the type to quietly watch over you, gently brushing your hair or stick close. His touch would be uncharacteristically soft, and so would his words.
“Just relax, I got you…”
“You look peaceful when you sleep…I wish you did it more often.”
When having bad nights, he wouldn’t push, but he would be there. He’d silently offer to let you rant, or seek comfort. But he would never push. Law just wanted you to know he’d always be there for you. (No matter the burden you believed yourself to be)
Law isn't officially 'cold' or 'uncaring' when comforting people, he's just an awkward dude who isn't the best at it... but he is an amazing listener.
However, if you'd ever been stubborn about your sleep, he'd meet your pettiness with his own. He'd scold and lecture, but it was never meant harmfully.
He was just frustrated he couldn’t help you faster.
Law would never make you feel bad about it, because it's not always your fault. There could be a thousand things wrong, but he wasn't gonna’ let himself be one of them.
He wouldn't bullshit you, and it might come off rather blunt, but he just wanted to get straight to the point. He didn't want you getting hurt, not on his watch, or just in general.
“____-ya, I don't need my star mechanic running on nothing. Nor' do I need you passing out on my sub. If you’re tired, you are tired. You don’t need to push yourself. Not for me or the crew.”
“Look, if something happens in the engine room or navigation—I need you. I need you well so you can perform at your best. I'm not losing you, and I’m not letting you pass out and hurt yourself because of your recklessness.”
“So just take it easy, alright? You're on rest for the day, and that's final, don't make me babysit you. I trust you enough that I don't have to.”
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Despite his harsh words, they were true. But being stubborn was your specialty, and you felt the need to prove yourself. So pushing yourself to clean the valves and filters was your next task—even though he didn’t give you any.
It’d been after a rough night, so you were irritable, and you’d been snappy. Even if you didn’t mean to be, it was just the way it was.
Without sleep, you were weaker and more emotional and you hated it. Your ego hurt, not only by his lecture, but at the fact you couldn’t function as easily as others. So that frustration, that deep welling hate fueled your resolve.
Though it didn’t last.
Law had found you snoozing off and covered with grime in the engine room, sleeping at an awkward angle. Your were cuddled against a pipe, using it as your pillow as your black-stained hands supported your head.
Your cheeks had been smeared with oil, and your messied suit had been covered with it. Tools and disposable bags had been near by, and the room was spotless. Shining against after a long month, he found himself frozen at the sight.
He’d slowly let out a breath, easing up as he kneeled beside you—gently shaking your shoulder. He wasn’t mad, only frustrated.
But that frustration let up as you didn’t stir, only slept exhausted. And that made his chest ache the most.
You didn’t need to prove yourself to him, you had already done that. The moment he saw you, he recognized your skills—and your personality took the cake. You already far surpassed his expectations and he could want nothing more, other than you.
He’d always been grateful, accepting you at whatever you came—your lowest—your highest, he loved you regardless.
Law just wished you wouldn’t push yourself to prove something you didn’t need to.
He would gently pick you up, looking around the room before cradling your face with his hand. He’d crack a soft unbelievable smile, before shaking his head and bringing you to his room.
Law would call you an idiot placing you on his bed, carefully taking off your shoes before tucking you in. He’d wipe a warm cloth across your face, cleaning away the harsh oils before it stained too much.
He’d watch you with tender eyes, brushing hair out of your face before letting you be. He’d rest at his desk, reading, but watching your from afar—waiting for you to stir.
He wouldn’t lecture you like he did before, but he might just reassure you that you didn’t have to do this. And he might just thank you for cleaning the engine room.
In his own Law way of course.
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Your captain would always be adamant about your health. No matter your argument or fuss—you were one of his top priorities.
Not ever in a tasking way. But maybe in an awkward loving one.
No matter the difficulty of his or your own, he’d always be patient, and he’d encourage you to go at your own pace.
Because everyone was different, and he was perfectly okay with that.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
With Law’s silent assurance and presence, your atrocious schedule had been eased.
Though it’d still been noticeable. The bags under your eyes pointed you out, and your snoozing tendencies didn’t help. The crew found you asleep in various workspaces many times, and it hadn’t really been a concern.
And as long as they believed you were getting enough sleep, they wouldn’t bother you about it.
Everyone had gotten used to it, but it didn’t mean they let up in the teasing. Light-hearted remarks had been thrown, but you never paid them any mind. If anything your captain listened to them more than you did.
He didn’t participate in it, but he let everyone have their fun. Until Shachi’s rather dark humor had been thrown into play.
You’d been dozing off at the table at lunch, slowly eating but surely getting in the nutrients you needed. You’d been sitting by Ikkaku and Shachi while your captain sat across from you.
“You sure you don’t wanna go lay down ____?” Hakugan asked, handing you over a basket of croutons. “A little nap might help.”
“No, I’m fine.” you muttered, mixing some in with your salad. Your jaw rested in your palm, and you stirred your salad around before taking a bite.
The tables conversation flew over your head and you could only think of what you’d do next after lunch. Train? Sleep? Clean? Be bored and bug your captain? It’d probably end up in the last one, but nothing stopped you from changing it.
“Mm, if you say so,” Ikkaku butted, taking a bite of her sandwich. “You really shouldn’t push yourself, I don’t want to find you asleep on the examination table again.”
Shachi snorted beside you, and you heard laughs echo around.
“Right? Scared the shit of me, I thought you were going in for surgery.” Penguin chuckled.
Law cracked a smile, watching you shake your head. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, it totally was,” Ikkaku teased, nudging your shoulder.
“It could’ve been worse,” Clione muttered, “finding you asleep on the control panel was not on my wish list.”
“Pff—yeah, right next to the throttle? Real smart kid,” Bart commented, plopping down another dish of food.
More laughs followed and you found yourself hiding your expression behind your sandwich, smiling quietly behind it. You took a big bite before Shachi started in.
“Oh, it was worse—remember? She fell asleep mid filter change and it totally blew up on her,” he laughed, gently knocking your head with his fist.
“Ew, don’t remind me.” you winced, making a face.
“Nah, you’re so stubborn about it I might have too.” he said, finishing up his sandwich.
“I’m starting to think someone needs to slip some sleep-aid into your drink.”
“Yeah—that’d get you some well earned rest,” Uni rolled his eyes, side-eyeing Law for a moment, seeing his expression darken.
He coughed in his fist, nudging Bepo.
“Uh, Captain?” The navigator sputtered, blinking idly at him.
Law didn’t respond, only deadpanning at Shachi who hadn’t yet realized his annoyance. It seemed he took the joke literally. Especially when he knew you didn’t like the symptoms of sleep-aid, it only irked him more.
“You go and do that and you’ll find a shit ton of laxatives in your coffee.” he said blandly, threateningly poking his fork.
The table quieted before Shachi coughed on his food, quickly swallowing it. He hit his chest, using you as a shield. Which you were mindlessly unaware of.
“Woah—haha, only joking Cap!" He paled, patting your back. "Right ____? All fun here, I'd never," he continued, nervously laughing.
"Mhmf, only jokes,” you muffled, with a mouthful of food.
Law paused, looking you over before rolling his eyes at your clueless expression. He layed off, but didn’t completely rest his glare. Law does not play around with you, not matter the joke or tease.
Death Of Pizzaz |Master-list|
Trafalgar Law x !Fem!Reader, fluffy, spicy, first kiss, yearning Law cause why not, make-out, he's a tease fr, you test his patience, bickering
You have some sharpies to your 'arsenal' and your dear captain is your victim...
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It was creeping into a late evening on the Polar Tang. The crew had tiredly retreated to their rooms after night watch had taken over in navigation. You quietly walked through the halls to your captain's room, surrounded in a dark hue from the seal covered windows and the dark sea. Small circular lights lit up your path, following from the floor to the stairs, overcasting a soft white glow throughout the sub.
You hopped down the final step, gently knocking on Law's door as you couldn't be bored any longer. You had spent an hour trying to fall asleep, but ultimately you gave in and craved the presence of your lover. A muffled "Come in," sounded through the door and you casually strolled in, stuffing your hands in your pockets. An unmistakable clink of sharpies hit against your hands, and you tightened your grip hopefully muffling them.
A little decor couldn't hurt, could it?
Your captain was the unsuspecting victim, as he hadn't taken his attention off the comic he was reading, something he'd have tossed and hidden if it wasn't for your familial gaze. You'd picked up on his nerdy tendencies a long time ago, and Law eventually excepted his fate, giving it up to share with you. His hair was unkept and messy, something you’d come to love along with his flimsy tank, praising the view it gave you.
“What are you doing?” Law asked, reclining silently against the couch. His infamous hat, and sword had rested close by, propped against his desk.
“What I can’t have quality time?” you smiled, feigning absolute innocence as you'd crawled into his lap, soaking up his touch. You always loved these relaxed moments. As it wasn't often he let go, more-overly stressed and constantly planning for the future, he was barely at ease.
But with you in his arms he could make an exception.
He let out a hum in response. "Depends what your after," he mumbled, adjusting himself under your weight, shifting back against the couch's armrest. Law brought his hand to soothingly rub over your shoulder, closing his eyes for needed peace.
You quietly watched as he closed his comic in hand, unknowingly knowing he was listening to your heartbeat, which thudded softly against his upper thigh.
You didn't know it, but your captain tended to listen to your pulse for a sense of comfort, remembering you were there with him: that you were real. That it wasn't some dream, and that he wasn't in some nightmare where you weren't.
He adored when you were like this, needfully resting by his side away from prying eyes—though he'd never admit it. Law would let his guard down with you, settling still in your innocent embrace. He opened his eyes to watch you shift, taking in the way your head gently rested against his hip.
He thought it was a heartfelt gesture really, but when you grabbed his arm and pulled it to your chest he thought otherwise. A soft click emitted, and a cold swipe crossed his skin, leaving him confused.
"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, quickly pulling away your wrist.
"Nothing, just gimme your arm," you replied, trying to grab it again.
"Seriously? ____ I'm not you're coloring book, no."
"Oh don't be so stuck up, it'll wash off eventually," you stubbornly grabbed his arm again, tracing his tattoos as you ignored him completely. You were off in your own world now, leaving your captain to a very grumpy demise. You didn't pay attention to the way he'd grumble or keep to his lingering gaze.
A few minutes passed and you'd finally fucked up, scribbling over your design, "Okay, that's enough." Law cut sharp to your name, quickly grabbing the pen tossing it aside to his table.
"Really?" he deadpanned, taking in the scribbled pieces.
"What? It'll wash off."
"Yeah, in a few days, it's literally black sharpie you idiot," Law scolded, flicking your forehead with a scoff.
You let out your own huff, shifting in his arms to sit comfortably against him, leaning into his chest. Your head personally thunked against his shoulder, though you eased when his arms wrapped around you again. His lip quirked in amusement as your masked mumbles were only so long-lived.
He often was firm with you. But it could never stay that way. His irritated expression relaxed, and he called your name taking in his scribbled arm.
“You realize these are permanent tattoos, right?” He asked, swiping him thumb across your hip.
"Yeah, I just enhanced em' though." You said absentmindedly.
"I think you should get it re-tattooed like that."
. . .
Law snorted, manhandling you to face him, "I love your artwork and all but I think I'll post-pone that." he remarked, bringing his hands to your sides. You immediately faked a hurt look and he cracked. He couldn't look you straight in the eyes when they grew glossy like that.
“You're serious?" he muttered, swallowing unbelievably hard. You shattered his resolve, and he feared he might not be able to say no.
"You broke my heart Law, I put my soul into that." you said dramatically, seemingly putting an ease to his inner torment, but it only irked him. He flicked you again creating a red spot, and you quietly yelped—covering it.
He really thought you were serious, and he'd been a sucker enough to believe it.
"It just looks better," you retaliated, squirming in his arms as he'd reached a ticklish spot.
"Better? Really? You must've borrowed that soul from one of Bepo's maps then," he snarked, cracking a smile as he'd finally gotten a laugh out of you. He'd come to love that sound the more and more he knew you, every day and every moment he loved to hear it, to see it.
Your chaotic remarks and energy were his livelihood, and he'd at times been too dense to see it. It had taken years before there'd been an ounce of romance in your relationship, and that was after years of trustworthy hardships.
Law had finally backed you off his lap, putting an end to your 'assault,’ which only brought you to hide between his thighs with a muffled "Shut up!"
“Oi, don’t do that,” he stumbled, feeling a pit in his stomach. His arms quickly came up under your's, sliding you upright, which seemed to relieve the strange tension in his stomach. He'd been a fool to say it wasn't a common feeling.
It’d always been a strong feeling, specifically and only for you. And he'd usually been the one to try and ignore it.
He wasn't sexually inclined, as he said he didn't have time for it. It wasn't his main goal, and he didn't have time for that lust and desire—meaning it wasn't his strong suit. You'd been the flirty type in the past, but if he simply wasn't ready—he wasn't ready; and you had never held him to that.
“Don’t what?” you deadpanned, glaring softly.
“Don’t pout,” he sighed, brushing off his blush as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back. Law couldn’t tell if you were being dense or doing it on purpose. Either way; it was infuriating.
“I’m not.”
"You are," Law interjected, taking in your form atop him. His mind wandered and he knew he was in trouble. Because he knew that no matter what he tried to ignore, he was always wrapped around your pretty little finger. Regardlessly…that's all you were, trouble.
You for once, seemed to quiet. Finally put at a loss for words. Your voice practically died in your throat and you couldn't help but question his intense gaze, you hadn't seen him look at you like that before.
Maybe once or twice but never like that. And it’d always pissed you off when he could put you in your place, before you could even begin to argue.
"I. am. not." you challenged, leaning closer—attempting to hold your ground. But it faltered when he drug his hand to your throat.
“Mm, yeah not anymore,” He whispered, overthrowing your little flirty act with a gentle squeeze your throat. He saw your face light up and he let out a whispery laugh. Law was enjoying himself.
On the other hand, you were internally panicking, opting to lean back, because Law had never been this forward with you. He'd been dense about that kinda thing, but obviously this was not the freaking case.
You swallowed against his hand, leaning back, but his lips caught you before you could own up to it. You heard a groan leave his lips before it swallowed your own, leaving your head spinning. You leaned forward, shifting your hips, and it only encouraged him.
His free hand squeezed your hip, and the hand around your throat tightened, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was more like a handle for him to hold. Your breath shuddered, and you forced yourself to breathe through your nose.
He'd caught you off guard and you couldn't seem get a grip.
You finally parted to breathe and his own blush matched your own. He gave a whole lotta' talk and do behind his pose, but deep down he was just as flustered as you.
"Don't be a smart ass," you muttered, bringing his hand away, but it only tightened around your smaller hand.
“Then don’t stick your head where it doesn’t belong.”
. . .
"What?—I didn't--"
"What?" he asked impassively, keeping a firm hold. He shifted causally beneath you and you knew he was doing it on purpose...that sarcastic bastard.
"Don't what me you know what!" you snapped, trying to pull your hands away, but he held on. His smirk grew and your blush heightened.
"What? That you like my hand around your throat? I figured, I didn't know it'd shut you up though." he leaned forward, attempting to whisper in your ear.
"Trafalgar Law!"