If Zoro had the conscience to do anything but pant hotly and swallow moans, he might have laughed at the smear of cream on the cook’s nose.

Why can't any food grown in the Grand Line ever be normal? Written for Black Bar Book's birthday to indulge all of her kinks.

In which Sanji and Ace are models for a BDSM site and Law’s the new guy doing his first shoot (Dom!Ace, sub!Sanji-and-Law, Ace/Law/Sanji in all combinations)

Nami has an extremely uncomfortable reaction to an island's pollen, and Zoro offers to help.

Law suffers some well-deserved revenge from Ceasar following the events of Punk Hazard, and it's up to Kid to help him out. Set after the current events of the manga (~chapter 717 as of this posting).

There was a hook in the Cook’s galley floor. Zoro should've ignored it but it's not like he's all that good at keeping his mouth shut around Sanji.

In ten seconds, Marco the Phoenix would warily accept Whitebeard’s order to stand guard outside the door while the enemy captain and Mama spoke inside. Or; Marco is a friendly fuck, and Katakuri gets one evening of respite from his family issues.

By the time he’s facing the alley again, there’s nothing and no one there, even the dust completely still. Sanji would think it was his imagination. Except he knows that glowing amber eye. “Oh fuck,” Sanji mutters when he realizes what’s happening. The pokes at his awareness had indeed been taunts, little warnings that someone was most definitely in pursuit, and closing in quickly. The realization of what is about to happen has Sanji’s mouth watering, heart knocking so hard in his chest he’s sure his hidden pursuer can hear it, wherever he is hiding. - Sanji is being followed through town, but it’s no stranger pursuing the lovely cook.

Zoro would thank Luffy for introducing him to Law all those months back, if he ever dared to tell him why in the first place that is, but their mutual friend didn't have to know what kind of relationship they had developed. Only him and Law would ever know what happened behind that door everytime Zoro would visit. (or Law and Zoro having a rough session in the BDSM room)

Every step Sanji took, he wanted to die. Every step he took, gods, he felt alive. It was strange, odd, uncomfortable, glorious, his mate's arm around his shoulders, all burly muscle, tucking Sanji under impressive biceps and up against just-as-impressive obliques. You'd think Zoro was an alpha to look at him on a normal day. Broad, head high as always - could he have walked any other way if he tried? - dripping confidence, exuding well-earned ego. And his lover, Sanji, so much narrower, several inches shorter with their carefully chosen shoes, head a little ducked as he smoked through a slim little black filter. "I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack." "Good thing I'm here to give you mouth to mouth, cutie."

Law still remembered his first whiff of the first omega to capture his attention. He was no fool, of course - he was a doctor, and he lived that title - knew that omega meant nothing in the realms of personality and power, no more than woman did. But the combination, so clearly Mugiwara's right hand at his beck and call and just as clearly his own man, was staggering. Confusing. God, it had nearly bowled him over.