wee woo

Cold. Empty. Desolate. Not even the stars touch the silent sea as Sanji sails you to Germa. The small boat cuts through the water, coasting through the ink as he rounds his island. Even in the dark, the shadows of the island rise up against the midnight- great silhouettes of stone fortresses far more inhospitable than the sea surrounding. The nomadic nation of Germa is an engine of war traveling from one kingdom to the next, leaving ruin in its wake. As it has your kingdom, as it has others- as it has the entire North Blue only a few generations ago.

It hadn’t taken you nearly as long to arrive as you had hoped. Finding a gap in the fortress, Sanji steers towards a stone dock before effortlessly mooring the boat. Still and quiet, only the waves gently lapping at the sides, barely rocking the vessel- you feel his presence standing at your back. Feel the heat seep down your spine under the intensity of his gaze. Yet, you are frozen where you are.

Until a heavy hand rests upon your shoulder, thawing you out. “Come,” he urges gently, keeping his hands respectfully at your elbows as you rise. Sanji helps you move to the edge of the boat, and your heart near bursts when his hands to go your waist- lifting you onto the dock- before quickly pulling away and offering his arm.

Taking it, you try to calm your breath. Pulling Sanji’s jacket tighter around your shoulders, you stave off the chill racing across the water as your heels click over the stones. When you take the first step on solid ground- on the ground of the country that must now be your home after stealing you away from yours- a piece of your heart tumbles from your chest and rolls off the bank to drop like a secret treasure to the sea.

Passing through the stone gate, you look up the slope of a hill and your breath stutters at the winding stairs rising before you. Hand clutching the flow of your wedding gown, your body already aches from the thought of the climb. However, before you can take another step, you’re swept from the ground and the whole world tips a little as your husband takes his bride into his arms.

Sanji spares you neither look nor word as he begins the ascent. Weightless in his hold, his arms are sturdy and warm and there’s no struggle or hesitation to his steps at all despite the burden of you. Despite the circumstances, the act- and the casual way he performs it- flusters you. This is the first time in your life you’ve been unchaperoned with a man, and he’s already thoughtlessly touching you like it’s second nature. Grateful for the night to hide the blush at your cheeks, you keep statue still in Sanji’s hold. As to not make the climb more cumbersome and also in attempt not to rile him- be it to anger or otherwise- while you’re vulnerable in his grasp.

At the summit, you pass through a more ornate gate and the world comes alive with embers of starlight. Warm lights strung through tended trees, gentle firelight lining the cobble pathway with soft ribboning flames of gold. A sweet, comforting fragrance fills the air as Sanji carries you past blooming bushes.

Certainly bigger than a cottage, but not nearly so big as a castle, a villa looms with candlelit windows that cast an orange glow across the warm brick. This path approaches from the back, it seems. Moonlight glints off the glass dome of a conservatory, a small swimming pool snaking around it’s outer curve. Shutters open to gauzy curtains that soften the light within, lanterns swaying beneath the overhang casting dancing shadows, a balcony along the second story with delicate curls of moonflower through its balustrade.

As you quietly admire the sight, it takes a moment to register that Sanji has stopped moving. When your eyes slide to his, you find him looking at you so intently, you have to quickly avert your gaze- though, you still feel his own hot on your cheeks. “Do you like it?”

Your pulse picks up as you realize this must be his home. Or, one of them- at least. The one he’d deigned to show you on the eve of your marriage. The one he’d chosen to bring his bride to for his first wedded night. Meaning, it was likely important to him. “Yes,” you tell him, “it’s lovely.” Measured and polite, but genuine, you give your answer. It is a lovely home, despite how you fret over what might be done inside.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Sanji pushes forward and your heart beats harder with every step he takes. As if by magic, the front door gently swings open as he approaches. There’s a pleasant aroma of citrus and cinnamon curling out from within, inviting light spilling across the stones- deepening the gold of Sanji’s hard eyes as he passes into it.

At the door, he looks down at you- patient until you hold his gaze again. Only once you do, does he cross the threshold with his bride in his arms. Softly, the door closes behind him and heartbeats sync between you before he gently places you upon the floor.

For the first time today the whole world is quiet. Sanji shifts where he stands, but his face remains impassive. Worry clenches around your heart that he’s becoming impatient. Yet, despite no betrayal of emotion, you can’t help but feel there’s a taut string of uncertainty between you.

“Are you hungry?”

“Hungry…?” your eyes snap to his.

“You didn’t eat much,” he says like he’s trying to reason out what should be happening next, despite knowing it’s entirely to his discretion.

“Oh,” you shake your head, “I’m not, but thank you.” Nervously, your hands press together before you as you try to maintain your manners, even as your heart threatens to leap from your chest.

“I’ll make you something,” he says quickly, already moving as if he didn’t even register your response. Unsure what to do, you simply follow through the hall and pass through a carved archway into an open kitchen.

Warm and inviting, wood accents the brick- well tended, but antique and time worn. Spices dry on their stems from racks bolted to the wall, gleaming copper coated pots and pans thoughtfully arranged. It’s artful, but it’s habituated- someone uses this space. Frequently, judging by the scuffs in the stone, the half-full bottles of colorful liquids and oils, the finger-worn outlines on the cabinet doors.

Quietly, you take a seat at the smaller table, catching your own reflection in the wide windows that look out towards the garden. Distorted, eyes barely visible as the wash of your gown haunts your ghostly figure, so far from the reflection of the woman you glanced before walking down the aisle. You can’t help but wonder if something more than your name was irrecoverably altered upon that dais.

A gentle aroma pulls you from your thoughts and you look to see Sanji standing diligently at the stove, hands moving in steady rhythm as he pours and blends something together. His focus is so intense and his motions are ceaselessly fluid, not slowing even to measure out the mixture.

It’s a soft scent- floral, but not overly sweet. Herbal, but not too earthy. It’s pleasant. So pleasant that your body calms as you continue to take deep breathes just to bring it into yourself. Eyes lingering on your husbands concentrated profile, the ease of his movements and the relaxing aroma lull you into a comfortable sort of silence- barely registering anything of your circumstance until he comes to stand before you, placing a cup at your fingertips.

Slowly, he sits across from you, hands clasped atop the table- just waiting. Little curls of steam wisp softly from the cup and it’s warm against your palms, but not scalding. Bringing it up, you let it rest atop your chest, seeping in the warmth and thawing out the lingering chill. Sanji leans forward a bit, transfixed as he watches and you take a sip just to try and escape the intensity he bears upon you.

Foreign flavors dance across your tongue and savor down like honey when you swallow, flowing and filling the colder cracks within. It’s warm and delicious and overwhelmingly comforting. With a sigh, your eyes flutter as you take a second long sip before bringing it back down to the the table, but not releasing it from your grasp. “Thank you,” you offer him a quiet courtesy, “it’s good.”

Sanji visibly relaxes. Though, his face remains impassive, his body eases back in his chair and droops with the exhale of a breath he’d been holding for too long. Slowly, you take another sip before staring down into your cup- suddenly torn between drinking it all or forcing it to last. “You can have more, if you want,” he assures you.

But, your mind is torn between something else. Between stretching these minutes on long and pushing off the inevitable- or forcing them short to get it on and over with. ‘Will it hurt?’ your own voice echoes out to you from a few hours in the past and you take another long drink before you can hear the ghost answer.

Finishing off the drink, you place the empty cup onto the table- tongue darting out for a the lingering taste at your lips. Dragging this out will only prolong your torment. Hands sliding back, you clasp them in your lap and straighten your posture.

Sanji shifts in his own seat, the tension coiling back up his body. His voice is thick when he asks, “would you… like to see the rest of the house?”

“No,” your hair loosens a little more as you shake your head. “I’m…” heart pounding, throat tightening, you force the words to come. “I’m ready,” your eyes flit to your sallow reflection before you force them away, “for bed.” The words stumble on your tongue and land hot across your face, eyes downcast and tracing the woodgrain. “I’m ready,” you repeat again- for yourself, more than him.

The silence between you is viscous and taut, the rush of your blood roiling through your body as your pulse pounds. Seconds span agonizingly infinite before the scrape of his chair drags across your raw nerves as he stands. “Alright,” he acquiesces, rounding the table to pull out your chair. Your grip on him is tighter than you intend it to be as you rise on shaking legs, the world momentarily tilting.

Shoulders back, head high- and no slouching- you ease your arm in Sanji’s like a proper lady and allow him to escort you out of the kitchen. Wordlessly, he leads you through the halls you’ve yet to map in memory and up a staircase to the second floor. Steps cushioned over rich carpets, he brings you to a wood carved door- hand pausing on the ornate knob. “This is your room,” he offers, turning the handle and gesturing for you to go in before him.

Untwining from Sanji, you step into the large bedroom. A low fire crackles in the small fireplace. Colorful rugs cover the stones, plush chairs and heavy furniture artfully arranged. Large windows from the floor to the tall ceiling, layered with drapes. Glass doors partially opened to the balcony, gentle breeze just barely fluttering the gossamer inner curtains.

Then, the bed. Bigger than the one you’ve always slept in and certainly big enough for two. Posts at each corner rise up towards the ceiling, bound together with sweeping drapes- heavy at the top, sheer and delicate down the sides, tied back with satin ropes. Lush and inviting, a luxurious bed of silk and down your tired body longs to sink into it.

But, this bed is not for sleeping. At least, not right now.

With a steadying breath, you move to perch at it’s edge, hands smoothing over the soft duvet. Bringing them into your lap, you look up towards your husband- standing rigidly still in the middle of the room. “I am ready to perform my marital duty.”

For the first time today, something subtle breaks across his face- though he turns from you before you can decipher what it is. Sanji crosses the room to the fireplace, both hands on the mantel as he leans to stare into the flames. His voice rolls through the coals as he asks, “have you done this before?”

“Of course not, my Prince,” the heat simmers nervously in your gut.

“I won’t be mad,” though his knuckles whiten under his grip, “just tell me truly.”

Did he think you deceived him? “No, my Prince, I swear it.” What might he do to you if he thinks he’s been cheated? “Your father can attest to-”

“My father?” Sanji whirls on you, his voice rising.

Your pulse rises with it. “King Vinsmoke,” you correct quickly, with a bow of your head- remembering how he didn’t appreciate Marcella using improper titles at the banquet.

Sanji’s voice dips back down, tone low and hands fisting at his sides, “did he touch you?”

Heat rises, the air thickening and hot as you try to assure him, “no, my Prince. He merely supervised. He said… he said he was satisfied…” Sanji rakes his hand down his face and braces back onto the mantel, staring again towards the flames- and you swear they burn a little higher now. “I have never been with a man unchaperoned before tonight, my Prince.” Heat stings your eyes as you try to defend your virtue, shame sticking sickly in your gut and fear coiling at your spine. “My first kiss was on our alter…”

“I believe you,” he says quickly. He looks as if he wants to say more, but simply closes his mouth and sighs.

“I won’t fight you,” you promise and Sanji winces, pushing off the fireplace. Heart pounding with each of his steps, he approaches you slowly. “Whatever you ask of me,” your voice thins, “I will follow your demands.”

Sanji’s hand is hot as it comes to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to look at him. Shadows linger at his face, but the gold is molten around his eyes as he looks down at you. Gently, his thumb brushes against your rosy silken skin and your breath shudders against his wrist.

Bowing, the blue of his eyes sharpen as he comes to your height. Eyes fluttering closed as he moves in, you brace for whatever unfamiliar way he’s about to touch you.

His lips press gently to your forehead.

Then, he pulls away, capturing your gaze in his. “Goodnight, Princess.”

And he’s gone.

By the time you register his absence, he’s already slipping through the door and clicking it closed behind him. The room is quieter, darker- colder- with him gone. Sitting in shock, you brace for him to return- too afraid to rouse his temper should he come back and find you unprepared for him.

But as the long night stretches on and the fire dims, you’re quite certain he’s not coming back. Relief and terror twist together inside as you reconcile his reaction. Is he not satisfied with you? You suppose that shouldn’t be terribly surprising. Of all your sisters, you would be a Prince’s least coveted. Will he try to annul the marriage? Will he send you back?

Or simply toss you into the sea and claim another bride…?

The thought washes through you cold and fearful and you think the right thing to do would be to go after him. Insist to please him- prove that you can.

But, you simply can’t bring yourself to move. Like a snake, your mind curls around its venomous thoughts: a failure of a princess, a failure of a bride.

Tears flowing and soft sobs breaking apart on your lips, you pull your husband’s jacket tight around your body and curl up in your wedding gown atop your marital bed.

Alone.

In every way a person can be.

Braced back against the door, nothing but the dim glow of an ember lights through the darkness as the Prince fills his hollow heart with smoke, exhaling with a breath that breaks on your every sob.

Sanji has been alone a lot, he automatically thinks he’s burdening everyone around him when he’s there, which is not a good trait.

As you wake up a little more you look at the clock: 2:23AM. Ugh he shouldn’t be up this late, you groan. He often does this and overworks himself. It’s his awful way of coping or showing he cares.

Throwing on one of Sanji's dirty shirts on the side of his dresser to cover up, you shuffle out of the room and towards the kitchen.

As you approach, you see the light still on and you panic as you don’t see him for a second, but then he pops into your vision.

You find him fast asleep with his face in a notebook on the couch. The thing that gets you is—he looks really uncomfortable. That position cannot be good for his bones.

No wonder he complains about back problems all the time.

You hate to be a creep watching him sleep, but as you go to get a glass of water to wake yourself up a little more, he groans.

You think he might’ve woken up but as you look back at him he’s still sleeping. But now he’s whispering something?

Getting a little closer, you start to make out some of his words, “No, no, no, stop it.”

What? You watch his face as he shifts uncomfortably and curls in on himself. “Love?” You call out to him, hoping he can hear you in his dream somehow.

“Are you alright?” You start to get worried. It’s probably one of those god-awful nightmares again.

You want him to wake up, get out of that place, but you also don’t want to startle him awake either, that would just make his panic worse.

You run your fingers through his gold locks, trying to soothe him. He jolts awake, making the book fall onto the floor.

“Amour what are you doing here? Did I wake you I’m sor-” he pants out, wiping his eyes

“More importantly, what are you doing here?”

“We have a big bed for a reason,” you continue, “this couch is not even that comfortable to be honest.” You say as you sit down next to him on the couch.

“I’m sorry love, I worried your pretty little face.” Sanji says as he kisses your hand.

You roll your eyes as you sip on the water you poured a few minutes before.

“Sanji, I have an idea, follow me,” you instruct.

“Wha-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence before you drag him to the aquarium. He doesn’t mind though.

It looks so surreal at night, the water illuminates the room leaving a blue tint. You sit on the arguably much more comfortable couch by the glass. You pat the cushion beside you beckoning Sanji to sit.

“I’ve truly been blessed!” Sanji starts to swoon. “Just sit please I’m tired, none of these dramatics please I want you.” You frown. Your secret weapon he can’t reject you now.

It’s taken a while to get him to actually be able to get close to you without nose bleeding everywhere. Improvement yay. Also the fact that he always wants to be the one taking care of you—not himself.

Having to actually sit down with Sanji to tell him that you enjoy taking care of him as much as he does, took some time. But he got it eventually.

“You’re too good to me, mon dieu.” He sighs out as he lays across the couch. Getting comfortable, he lays his head on your chest.

For the first time in the day, Sanji finally breathes.

You catch him as he gets a little ahead of himself sniffing you. What is his problem.

“Hey,” you break him out of his trance as he starts to bleed on your chest and through your (his) shirt.

“I- uhh I’m sorry,” he murmurs as he wipes his nose with a handkerchief in his pocket.

“No.” You say as you bring him back into you, hugging his head close so he has no room to argue. All arguments were muffled anyway.

“Just relax ji.”

He can’t resist you when you call him that.

You feel him finally surrender and nuzzle against you with a whine.

~

After a while of running your fingers through his soft, well-kept hair, you hear him gently snoring.

You watch the fish swim about for a few minutes before you start dozing off. Feeling your head bob, you lay back against the pillow by your head.

The sound of Sanji’s rhythmic breathing lulls you to sleep as you gaze at the fish gliding through the water.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Yoyoyo first fanfic written

Critiques are welcome plz lmk !!

It was kinda proofread. By kinda I mean I was half asleep.

🍽️ Sanji was immediately captivated when he saw you. He flocked towards you and asked if you were an angel, to which he promptly got his head hit in by Nami. Still, he would always compliment them.

🍽️ When you start dating, he would always help you care for them. He’d help you preen them in private. During those times, he would never shut up about how beautiful they are, to the point where it annoys even you. But you can’t stay mad, it’s cute to see him so infatuated.

🍽️ If you had more bird like attributes other than just wings, it would reflect in your diet. Sanji does his best to ensure good nutrition for his partner, and if you require extra time for meal prep, he’s willing to do that.

🍽️ While you two are separated for your training, he’s reminded of you in every bird he sees above head. He sits to appreciate them when he’s not being chased down by drag queens.

Luffy

🍖 Luffy always has his hands on your wings. He loves running his hands through them, they basically become a fidget for him. He starts doing it even when he isn’t thinking and it acts like unintentional preening, so your wings are in quite good shape.

🍖 He loves when you take him out flying. It’s so freeing to be flown across the open ocean, free from the weight of gravity. In those moments, he’s also really chatty. He’ll point out everything you two pass. Luffy’s also very energetic, so you have to keep a good grip on him or he’ll fall into the water.

🍖 Immediately assumes that ‘wings = bird’. He’ll legitimately think that you eat seeds and lay eggs, and you’ll have to physically tell him that’s not how it works. And even then, he’s not fully convinced. He’ll leave seeds out just it case.

🍖 He collects your feathers if they drop naturally from your wings. They’re usually in his hammock, he makes them into a makeshift pillow. He’ll show you proudly and you just stare because it’s like the equivalent of someone collecting your hair. He means well, he really does—

Nami

🍊 Thought it was an elaborate costume at first. That was until she saw them move and tense. After that, she kept a bit of distance from you until she warmed up.

🍊 She’ll ask you to fly over islands and surrounding areas to help with her mapping of the world. When you sit and tell her all the details, she’ll stare and listen intently. Partly because it helps her dream and partly because you look adorable rambling.

🍊 Will buy you nice products to help you upkeep your wing care. She’s so nice, she won’t even charge you for it! Scratch that, maybe she’ll charge you a little. But she loves picking stuff out for you.

🍊 Loves flying with you. Like I said before, it helps with her navigating and mapping the world. After the initial fear the first few times, she’ll be asking to fly at every new island the crew goes to because it’s so efficient! She’ll always thank you with affection.

Usopp

🏹 Just like Sanji, he was immediately interested when he saw you. You were beautiful and unique, he couldn’t help but stare. When he first talks to you, he’s a bit nervous. He’s also overly formal because he thinks you’re a real angel, which is flattering.

🏹 You become his muse. If he’s not working on his inventions, he’s doodling you. Somedays he’ll ask you to pose for him and others he’ll simply sketch you doing everyday things. His sketchbook is full of hundreds upon hundreds of drawings of you.

🏹 He’ll ask to inspect your wings for his inventions. He wonders if he’d be able to replicate your wings in a technology format, like an aeroplane. He hopes that one day he’ll be brave and smart enough to accomplish the feat of flying with you.

🏹 Usopp will also study birds to make sure that he doesn’t hurt your wings and how to keep them in good condition. He enjoys preening them with you, because he read that it can be intimate between some birds. He gets embarrassingly flustered and shy in those moments.

Law had never been particularly fond of dreams. They were never kind to him. Faces of those he’d lost, those he failed to save, mistakes he couldn’t undo all haunted him at night. He was reluctant to sleep at all most days, only giving in after you or Bepo had forced him to lay down and exhaustion overpowered him. Once he would have been grateful for pleasant dreams or a full night’s sleep. 

Law! Yes, Law!

Your voice haunted him, the image of you on top of him. The way you so sweetly called for him, the way you clenched around him, the way your chest bounced with every movement. God, it was intoxicating. He would give anything to hear you call his name like that again. Anything except risk your friendship, one of the only things that kept him grounded in life. When he woke up from the first dream, a stain on his pants and shame in his heart, he swore he would never let something like this affect your relationship.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Always something different. Sometimes you were on top of him, sometimes below him, sometimes on your knees, sometimes bent over his desk. Every time your beautiful eyes blinked at him, filled with tears of pleasure, your sweet voice keening for him to give you more, more, more. And every time he woke up to a problem needing to be solved and more feelings to push deep down, never to return. Until the next night, when it happened again.

He had never been more grateful that he had his own room. He can’t imagine how humiliating it would be if someone else saw him like this, biting down on his pillow as he rut into his own hand. If someone saw the way tears slipped down his lashes as he sped up, heard his cry of your name muffled into the fabric between his teeth, he would never be able to recover.

But luckily, no one ever would. His shame would stay in the dim light of his cabin, and his carefully protected image of control would remain unblemished. You’d never suspect a thing.

But the thoughts remain.

And he could handle that, really, he could. He’s a grown man, he can control himself. But you just keep pushing him, not even knowing what you’re doing. It’s small things, really. Yesterday, when you laughed at a dumb joke Shachi told you, you leaned forward enough to show off just a hint of your cleavage. Something that shouldn’t even phase him, but made him white knuckle the table to stop himself from throwing you over his shoulder and marching down to his room. 

The day before that, you put your hand on his knee during dinner, thumb gently brushing against him as you smiled and told him you thought everything was going to be okay. You’ve comforted him like that a thousand times, but he couldn’t focus on the tender tone of your voice, only the feeling of the warmth of your hand seeping through his pants. He imagined that hand sliding higher and higher, how that warmth would feel somewhere else.

He had to excuse himself from dinner. You thought he was still upset, tried to follow him in concern, and he just barely managed to fend you off before he ran to his bathroom and took care of the hard-on you’d given him. He prayed you didn’t hear his quiet moans of your name or the sound of him pumping his cock in his hand.

A thousand small things, ways you show you care or small motions that show off your body, all building pressure that threatens to burst whenever he looks at you, threatens his carefully crafted control. 

You’re so determined to break him, but he remains strong.

Until you wake him halfway through the worst dream yet.

Law! Law! God, yes, Law! Your voice is still ringing in his ears, your cunt still tightening around his cock, as your hand shakes him awake.

“Law! You can’t sleep here, you’ll fuck up your back.” Your voice is so soft, so concerned, as you try to pull him up from his desk. He can already feel the pain in his spine as you pull him to his feet, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

He’s hard, he’s horny, and you’re right here, your hands on him as he can still hear you screaming his name.

He takes a step forward, his arms threatening to wrap around you, and he can just barely process that you’ve removed your hands from him as your eyes shift away from him.

“Law?” Your voice is meek, nervous, not at all like his dreams. But the red on your cheeks, the way your eyes shine? Those are familiar. He’s so close now.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” He can barely keep the shake from his voice.

“What?” You take a step back, but your back hits the wall behind you.

“I’ve been holding back for months. Trying to keep control, to not ruin this, but you just,” he takes a step forward.

“Keep,” another step.

“Haunting me.” Your chests are pressed together, and he can feel every breath of yours as your tits press against him. They feel even better than he imagined. He almost expects you to push him away, to run, but you don’t. Instead you stare at him with your stupid, beautiful doe eyes, lips slightly parted, face flushed, and he can’t hold back anymore.

Your lips are soft. They’re slightly tacky from your chapstick, and he’s delighted to find it makes you taste like strawberries. You tense for a moment, and he fears he’s frightened you, ruined everything, but then your arms wrap around him and he knows you’ve wanted this just as badly as he has.

His hands grip your ass as his tongue presses firmly against your lips, which you almost immediately part wider to allow him better access. One of your hands presses firmly against his back, while the other slides forward to grope at his chest. Your fingers press into his shirt, seemingly torn between pulling him closer and feeling every inch of him beneath your fingertips. His hips roll against his will, and the whimper you let out into his mouth destroys what little self control he has left.

He lifts you with ease, pulling you impossibly closer, before throwing you onto his desk, papers and logs be damned. Nothing on it is more important than him being inside of you as soon as humanly possible. In his dreams, he always stripped slowly and sensually, teasing you until you were begging for his touch, his cock, but he’s going to explode if he isn’t inside you within the minute. He practically rips off your uniform, throwing it behind him, where he can hear it take something that sounds suspiciously like his lamp down with it, glass shattering when it hits the floor. He can’t bring himself to give a shit.

“Law,” you say in that squeaky little voice you always get when you’re surprised. “What’s—”

Your sentence breaks off into a moan as he sinks his teeth into your neck. He can smell your shampoo mixing with the scent of your sweat, and god he really might break this desk beneath you if you keep driving him insane. Your hand shoots to the back of his head, gripping his hair and tugging as you continue to let out little whimpers and moans with every thrust of his clothed hips against your panties. 

“Every night, you ruin me, and I have to wake up and pretend to forget,” he groans into your neck. “Every night you give me everything I’ve ever wanted just to take it away. You’re cruel.”

He wants to take off his jeans, but he can’t bring himself to remove his hands from you. You’re so much better than his dreams, soft and warm and real beneath his fingers. His mind could never have conjured up such a perfect feeling.

You must have read his mind, because your hands slide his coat from his shoulders, fingers tracing his abs down to his waist. He’s so lost in the feeling he doesn’t understand your intent until you let out an adorable frustrated huff. “Stop moving for a second,” you snap, fingers struggling to grab the button of his jeans.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If you tackled me to the desk so you can grope me while you cum in your pants I’m leaving.”

The laugh that rips through him stills him just long enough for you to pop the button and rip his pants and underwear down. The fabric catches on his thighs, but you’re stuck, frozen, watching his cock spring out of its prison. Law has always been proud of his body, but nothing has made him feel sexier than watching the way your mouth falls open looking at him.

“You’re drooling,” he chuckles.

“I am,” you say, not taking your eyes off of his dick. You reach for it, fingers tracing lightly up his length, and watch as it twitches in response.

“Don’t tease me,” Law says through gritted teeth. One hand grips the desk for dear life, the only thing holding him back from slamming into you like an animal.

“Oh? Don’t what? I couldn’t hear you.” Your fingers trace back down, following the vein, touching enough to stimulate but not enough to pleasure.

Law is a proud man. He does not beg. He would never—

“God, please—” His voice breaks off once you mercifully wrap your fingers around him, thumb rubbing briefly against the head. He shudders, head falling forward, pressing himself as deeply into you as he physically can.

“It’s even bigger than I imagined,” you murmur.

“You imagined me?” He tries to make his voice sexy and gruff, but it comes out as more of a whine.

“All the time.”

He latches onto your neck, both to get himself to stop talking before he makes himself sound as undone as he feels, and to mark you as his. He desperately needs to leave some kind of sign that this happened, something to tell him tomorrow this wasn’t just another one of his tortuous little dreams. This is real, it is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and by god is he going to make sure he remembers every single moment.

His free hand reaches for your panties, pulling them down far more carefully than he did your uniform. The delicate lace is a bit less durable than thick canvas. You hiss as your cunt is exposed to the air, your hand slightly tightening around his cock.

He removes himself from your neck to look you in the eye. Your face is flushed, your pupils blown out, and your hair is a mess. You look beautiful. “Ready?”

“Please fuck me already, Captain.”

You barely have time to get your hand out of the way before he’s slamming into your entrance, the force of it shaking the desk beneath you. You feel heavenly, warm and wet, clenching around him. Law lets out an absolutely mortifying noise, halfway between a moan and groan, and you clench around him tighter in response.

“God—”

“Oh Law—”

His dreams didn’t compare to the real thing. Your voice dripping with desire and want, the friction as he pulled out inch by torturous inch, it was beyond dream or fiction. He could never have conceived something so wonderful. He ruts back into you, to the hilt this time, your hips slamming together with near bruising force. The desk shakes again, creaking dangerously, but he doesn’t give a shit and he can’t imagine you do either. 

One hand remains on your hip to stabilize you, and the other takes the opportunity to explore your chest as he kisses you. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but none of the awkwardness detracts from the feeling of your soft lips against his. You easily allow his tongue into your mouth, putting up no fight to the tidal wave of lust driving him to consume you whole. 

Your chest is so soft beneath Law’s fingers he could weep. His teenage self would have killed a man to feel this, and frankly, he still would now. You whine into his mouth when he pinches your nipple, a sound that he swallows greedily. He wants every part of you, every noise and smell and feeling you can offer.

He tries to keep control of his hips, but he can feel his pace growing quick and sloppy. He wants so desperately to remain in control of everything, to spend the entire night giving you all of the pleasure you could stand, but you feel so good around him and he’s needed this for so very long.

He pulls back for a breath, chest heaving, and he sees your eyes have grown unfocused, your mouth still open as the spit connecting you catches the light.

“Law, yes, god, yes!” You sing like an angel. He can feel your legs growing tense as they tighten around his hips, and he’s assured to know you’re as out of control as he is. His hand reaches down, his fingers not hesitating for a second before finding your clit. His rough fingers press against you, rubbing experimentally as he tries to follow your expressions to see what way will best make you fall apart beneath him. You’re far too gone for such intense study, as every move he makes brings you closer to the edge. Your nails dig into his back, dragging down his shoulderblades, and it takes everything in him not to cum instantly. He’ll be damned if he cums before you do.

Your breath quickens as your moans turn to high pitched whines, growing louder and louder until one final thrust and rub brings you beyond the edge. You throw your head back and scream, your arms pulling him closer until your chests touch, your legs wrapping around him and locking him in place. You spasm around his cock, squeezing as though your life depends on it, and he follows soon after with the small thrusts your legs will allow him.

You collapse beneath him, boneless, as he comes as deep into you as he physically can. He falls on top of you soon after, barely catching himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His chest heaves as he tries and fails to catch his breath, so instead of breathing he settles for suffocating while admiring your beautiful flushed face. Your eyelids have fallen shut, your mouth letting out little puffs of air as you struggle with the same problem he is. His dreams never got this far, to the after.

It’s amazing.

You look so amazing fucked-out beneath him, a smile on your face that he’s sure you aren’t even aware is there. He could live in this moment forever, just staring at you, knowing he’s the one who made you look like this.

Even as he leans forward a little too far and a loud crack lets him know the desk is giving out beneath you.

He just barely manages to pull you on top of him so his back hits the floor instead of yours. You’re tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. You stare at the desk’s remains as he stares at you, and when you laugh, his chest tightens. God, he might be more in love with you than before.

As he lifts you, watching the way your eyes sparkle as you giggle and ask how he’s going to explain the desk to the crew, he thinks he can live with some more frustrating dreams. It’ll never compare to the real thing, and he has a feeling you won’t mind him coming to you for more help in the future.

“Bye, guys! Stay safe!”

 Seated on Franky’s mechanical shoulders, Chopper waved back at you. His adorable laughter drifted past the treelines along with their farewells and energetic chaos fleeing towards another mini adventure. One you would not be a part of this time.

 The rest of the crew left you on board with the promise to return soon as they scoured for supplies on an inhabited island, but with the way Luffy sped away— and Nami shouted after him— you knew there wouldn’t be much hope reigning in the Captain’s excitement.

 You could trust Luffy to disrupt a plan and completely derail a simple situation. His shouts and the crew’s calls for him to slow down faded faster than the dust he left behind.

 The seconds ticked.

 You held your breath.

Standing alone, you listened intently for the silence to shatter the way you have become accustomed to— only to hear nothing but the squawk of birds resting on the mast. Undisturbed and unthreatened. Without so much as a song or laughter to burst, the ship rocked against the crystal waters of the shallow shore as you stood on the massive boat.

 The world quiet, the view serene.

 “Yes!” You let out an excited squeal, stomping your feet on the grassy deck in a silly dance of freedom and peace. “It’s finally quiet!” You shouted, laughing to yourself when no one answered you but the flaps of the wind against the furled sails above you.

 There were no shouts other than your own, no arguments or explosions— no disturbances of other people. Finally! After five weeks of non-stop excitement and open sea, you twirled, jumped and danced your butt off with no one to interrupt or insult your ridiculous display of glee because you were alone!

 “They all left, yes, yes!”

 You sang merrily, taking up space with wide arms and a beaming smile.

 You loved the straw hats. Travelling with them has been the most thrilling adventure of your life. They were amazing! Incredible, free-spirited— but sometimes, when the songs turn repetitive, and the merriment mutates into mayhem, you just want time to yourself.

 Having grown up alone, you had become accustomed to the stillness of an empty room. It was comforting, the calmness of your own company and the hyper-independence it developed. A stark contrast to the life you started with your new makeshift family, and after so long of bumping and sharing space with colourful, loud personalities, you were thankful for the chance to stretch your arms and lay on the soft grass.

 A moment to unwind, relax, and hear nothing but the waves below and revel in the tranquillity of solitude.

 “Now, iced tea on the deck or a long bubble bath?” You mused out loud, whistling while making your way to the kitchen, “or both?” You paused up the stairs.

 You sought to utilise all the time you had with maximum relaxation — with the way Luffy screamed over the odd-looking animal that stole his fruit; reading a book in the bathtub right now would guarantee no disturbances or uncomfortable attention for a while. No long lines or perverted interferences. You could take your time soaking in the warm water, and if they arrived by late dinner, they would find you already sated, happy and relaxed in the kitchen.

  Right, decisions finally made, you went back down the stairs.

 First, you needed your book back from Usopp, who swore he would finish and return yet never did, so you made your way to the boy’s quarters. They have lockers with their names, so it wouldn’t be too difficult unless he stashed it somewhere else, hopefully, the room wasn’t too messy— “Damn,” you heard someone hiss, a low voice that stopped you in your tracks, followed by inaudible murmurs that most definitely belonged to a man.

  Fuck. Just like that, your good mood died, snatching your solitude away before you had the chance to indulge in it fully.

 There was someone else here wrecking your fantasy and all the excitement of relaxing alone. No one ever said you would be guarding the ship with another person, yet the sounds of shuffling filled you with instant disappointment as you stood outside the room with the door slightly ajar.

 You eyed them carefully through the crack, peeking in to seize a glimpse of who was ruining your day of fun, only to catch a wisp of blonde hair and a streak of smoke before you heard him hum something to himself as he shrugged off his suit jacket, clearly undressing.

 Oh.

 Swallowing your nerves, you spied from the slim gap through the door— watching smooth, slender hands loosen and tug on the tie around a pale neck until it slipped out and neatly folded on the dresser in front of him. 

 You paused, disappointment somehow melting as something else fluttered through your body. Something hot. Something wicked and indecent thumped an ache in your core as you watched him unbutton his top collar.

 Then the second.

 Third.

 Unwittingly, your thoughts began to drift. Obliviously slipping into a heated dream envisioning how his strong hands would feel on your hips, your waist, gripping your supple skin when he presses you into his chest. The hot wisps of smoke and spice fogging your perception when he tilts his head down to yours, lips soft and slightly parted…

 Sanji rolled his neck, popping the tension that released a low hiss from him, startling you out of the fantasy you unknowingly faded into before a sudden realisation rooted you to the spot— you were watching a man undress. 

  You were watching Sanji undress.

 You only needed your book— a simple noise or shuffle would make your presence known, but you watched Sanji rake his fingers through his hair instead and toe off his shoes, standing in the middle of the room.

 You weren’t all that sure about the layout of their quarters, considering you were usually respectful— but you could tell Sanji was closer to the beds and had a medium-sized dresser beside it with a sink and mirror in the corner. The room was spacious, bigger than the girl’s quarters, including a sofa and table in a sunken spot nestled in the middle of their room. It wasn’t as disorganised as you pictured. A lot of colourful knacks matching different aesthetics, but they all had a place that belonged to them. A piece of individuality.

 You leaned back, hoping you went unnoticed by the man who often sang for your attention— and Nami’s and Robin’s, and any pretty girl he laid his eyes on. He was shameless, obscene. Yet there you stood, watching him unwind and strip ever so slowly exposing a physique you never expected from the ship’s cook.

 The wavering sense of guilt drifted from your consciousness, fading into a vague afterthought with every second you spent gazing into the rift through the door as if it were luring you into depravity.

 You wondered why you held your breath when his humming stopped.

 Say something before—

 His tired groan flushed warmth on your cheeks as you ducked behind the frame, shamefully peering into the room and watching him finish unbuttoning his blue striped shirt with deft fingers. Gingerly unclasping the buttons one by one until the shirt hung loosely on his shoulders. Over soft skin and hardened muscle.

 It was almost elegant how he shifted his cigarette with his teeth to avoid the tiny trickles of ashes from falling on his suit, then gently placed his black jacket on the bed with grace you couldn’t fathom as he slid the shirt off his broad shoulders in the same motion.

 Brightening the room, hitching your breath.

Sanji... he was beautiful.

 In a gentle sort of way, with poise, strength and a style all his own. In an amorous way that kept you fixated on his toned back. His broad shoulders, smooth chest, and the cut of his well-defined abs. In the sense that had you admiring the grace of his movements and all the years he must have spent perfecting them.

 You have watched him work while travelling with the strawhats these last few weeks. For no other reason than admiration, at the time, because you respected his power and the regency of his fighting style. But now, in the absence of stubborn rivalry and heart-eyed temptations— to glimpse the softness of his smile for yourself was like witnessing the shimmer of undisturbed water shining in the light of a spring day.

 Peaceful.

 A smile all his own, no snarky comment or perverted leer to taint the innocence or sincerity of his expression— you could only describe it as pretty.

 It had you clutching the hem of your sundress, crouching down slightly when his lithe body sauntered from your sight. Was he preparing to take a shower? Did they have their own private facilities? Or is he about to walk out and catch you and your hidden decadence for unassuming men?

 Your mind raced with questions, mixing with a perverted sort of fascination you dared not to admit, leering behind the door that hinged on the stillness of your presence.

 Sanji turned back to your frame, humming another tune that was all too familiar when music played merrily on the deck. He sounded at ease, his voice carrying through the room softer than the smoke that swirled around him.

 You bit back a smile, unintentionally slanting into the door, craving more than a slim peek into the room. deeper than a glance, especially when his hand inched towards his pants.

 His movements were effortless— if it were not for the click of the buckle and the loud snap of leather, you would have missed how he unclasped his belt with one hand and yanked it fluidly with one rough tug out of the loops.

 Fuck, that should not have been as attractive as it was, yet heat flushed anyway like it was coursing through your blood vessels, pumping your heart into a sensual beat out of its control. As much as you wanted to deny it, and turn your guilt away, it forced you to realise how difficult it was becoming to justify your presence— and even tougher to care about the intrusion of Sanji’s privacy.

 He would have done the same, right? Though Sanji would have been less conspicuous and ten times more audacious, it was still innocent for you. For now.

  “Where’s?” He mumbled before a soft aha came right after, a blue towel appearing in your field of vision. Hard muscles and a lean torso shifted through the gap, his back to you as he fiddled with something you could not see.

 Your gaze lingered, slinking down every tight ridge and exposed skin you were blessed to witness.

 There was a beauty to him you had not seen before, a tenderness to his features you only noticed now through the sliver of light. The colour on his cheeks, the tilt of his lips, the little curl of his eyebrow most people teased him for. There was something feminine about it— a spark of gentility he may have inherited from his mother, not that you knew much about that, just a softness he seemed to be blessed with.

 It was admirable how he took excellent care of his things too. Rolling his belt, setting aside his cufflinks, buffing his shoes, even hanging his shirt over the chair to be later washed and pressed— you know he did after Brook thanked him for kindly ironing his shirts as well.

 Perhaps there is more to him than silly sexual deviances. More than hazy eyes over full tits and round ass-cheeks. Sanji was diligent. Thoughtful. Tender.

 Whereas you were the deviant leaning in a little too intently now, your perverted gaze following the veins on his forearms as he stretched them above his head, emitting low groans when his back pulled tautly and the muscles constricted tight.

  You squirmed, the sounds of his groans and sighs making you clench your thighs as you watched him stretch, then admired himself in the mirror, rubbing his chin over the dark hairs you wished he wasn’t thinking of shaving. You liked the facial hair— almost as much as his ass when he leaned forward to splash some water on his face. 

 “Wait..” you murmured out loud without thinking. When did he snuff the cigarette?

 Shame filled you instantly. Sanji’s ass distracted you for too long because now he was wiping his face with a clean blue towel, droplets of water rolling down his sturdy neck before they were selfishly wiped away just when you began imagining licking it off his skin.

 You huffed, your feet planted to the floorboards, unable to speak louder than a tortured gasp while your thighs cinched to ease an unpleasant ache when he ran his hand through his hair again, with pretty blonde strands falling wet over his face. Over sweet eyes and high cheekbones.

 It was exhilarating, intrusive, and extremely impolite, yet you could not turn away or apologise for the violation, too mesmerised by the physique usually clad in lavish suits. Only witnessing a faint glimmer of the man you had never known before— lurking behind the shadow of the door frame that separated you from him and spared him from your wandering stare.

 There was a clink and a small flame before the smell of smoke wafted through the door once again. A thick cloud of vapour swirled around Sanji as he tilted his head back, eyes closed and basking in the serenity of the surrounding silence. Much like you wanted to before you became lustfully distracted, spoiling his privacy. Invading his space. That guilt you previously estranged yourself from inched back into your consciousness as Sanji sighed softly, looking every bit of the peace you intended for yourself earlier. 

 Your teeth latched on your bottom lip, nervousness churning, desire twisting into a sick delusion— your prying had to end. Even Sanji deserved the politeness of privacy.

 So, you turned to leave, determined to ignore all you had seen, just for the floorboards to creak under your weight when your feet shuffled a little too loudly.

 Your body stilled, you felt your pulse explode, and excuses and apologies were ready to spill from your trembling lips as you whipped your head back to the door— only to freeze when you caught him unbuttoning his pants.

 He stood there, shirtless, hair damp and dark pants low on his hips as the zipper rang louder than the blood rushing in your head.

 A smothered gasp escaped behind your hand, an inaudible “Oh god,” choking out beneath the pleasured grunts you heard through the wall. Sweat beaded down your temple, somehow feeling hot and sticky despite the chilling wind that ruffled your hair, tickling the flushed skin of your chest as your breathing quickened.

 He was... touching himself— idly, lazily, using the heel of his palm to rub on his crotch as it steadily grew into a heavy bulge pressing into the teeth of the zipper.

 “Fuck... ”

 You squeaked, thankfully no louder than his own low grunt.

 His teeth peaked through his smile, chuckling at something past your sight. His smile was sultry, his laugh airy. Thank God, no one could ever see the creeping blush up your neck over Sanji. Or feel the stickiness that marred your panties over the sight of his erection lewdly shaped beneath the fabric of his dark pants. The man who needed blood transfusions whenever he saw a pretty girl.

 You would have felt humiliated if you weren’t so distracted. And breathless, lightheaded, and not to mention wet.

 His ridiculousness was why you never noticed these things before, like the slenderness of his long fingers, or how his sharp jaw clenched to keep the cigarette in place— or the elegance of his strides across the room to place his shoes in the locker and hang his suit jacket before stepping into the sunken sofa.

 A new light, a new Sanji to you— a voyeuristic secret you could never confess even through the stuttered breaths of your own arousal.

  Shit, shit, shit!

 He was right there, facing you— yet unaware of the glowering eyes and thundering pulse a few feet away from him. At least, that’s what you hoped as you watched him throw his head back over the couch and rub the back of his neck tiredly— teasing you with a view of his sculptured body and the heavy tent straining against the zip of his pants.

 Fuck… he was a vision. Perhaps if he had a fraction of this elegance towards women, he would have them falling at his feet, begging for his attention— panting his name— raking your nails down his smooth chest.

 Caressing him the way your fingers unconsciously mimicked on the door as you pressed yourself against it, tits hot and heavily squished into redwood, desperate for cool relief on your flushed skin while straining to see past the hem of his pants. He was so close, yet out of reach, as you watched his hand run down his neck, gliding it on his chest sensually before grasping the chubb that had him sighing lowly into his own touch.

 “Just a little,” he groaned, rubbing on his cock lazily, as if he was convincing himself to indulge in his own pleasure, “before they come back.”

 Oh god, oh god.

 You weren’t in the right state of mind to be making decisions when every grumble and low hum of his vibrated straight between your thighs. Pooling slick in your panties that had you chewing on your bottom lip to sanctify some sanity when heated arousal rushed through your body.

 “We have time,” he murmured, shifting in his seat to tug down his pants a little more, dark blonde tufts of hair peeking through, giving himself room to breathe with his underwear sliding just beneath it. His chubb was fat and still hidden, but you could see the tip twitch with every squeeze of his abdomen, teasing himself with the friction rubbing upon his dick. “uhh, yea, please.” He moaned a sweet sound seeped in desperation, his eyes closed and hips jerking, playing his fantasy out loud, his hands clenched by his sides. “Touch me, please, I’ll be good”, he whispered, smiling as he did, a flush colouring his cheeks. “Jus’ for you, yea? All you. Pretty girl, make me so hard.” He choked the last word, taking the cigarette out of his mouth for a steady breath of air before clenching it back in his teeth.

  You were a mess.

 You had to stop, turn away— breathe.

 Sanji was begging, whining to be touched as he bucked his hips, using his abs to move his cock in his pants. Edging himself in a fantasy you only hoped to be a part of— but you could never dare to interfere. Your chest heaved, nipples taut and stroking against the door, gripping the handle so it stayed put even as your legs shook from the pressure to keep you upright.

 Leave, you had to leave.

 Move your feet, release the grip on the door and shift your weight to the side.

 You manually counted your breaths, ripping your gaze from Sanji’s pleading stare.

 Leave, just leave.

 “Don't leave,” he whined, sitting upright. “at least let me watch you too, it’s only fair.”

  It was as if a wave of cold, salty, ocean water dunked on you from the way you shrieked at the sound of your own name.

 The door creaked, opening wide, betraying you by exposing the statue you had become and on the brink of collapsing from shame or even darting from his sights if you could have managed to work your knees.

 Though his eyes were free from shock or disgust, he looked almost excited. Eager. The cigarette clenched in his wide grin; hair pushed back— you could see how his eyes glowed.

 You gaped back at him, shock contorting into a dry wheeze you couldn’t control while his smile curled into a light chuckle, amused by your flustered expression.

 “Don’t leave,” he repeated, the invitation sounding almost kind coming from his lips, a charming smile hidden behind an obscene request while tugging on his pants when his hard cock pressed too tightly in its confines. “Watch me, please.”

 Sanji asked you not to leave.

 Sanji said your name while asking you not to leave— not to leave watching him masturbate.

 Your breath fell past your lips, frozen just outside the bedroom door, your blood still humming through your body. You were stuck. Mortified. No matter how many times you rephrased or repeated it in your head, you could not move or answer him in anything but a squeak. “Why?”

 “Why not?” He countered, striding towards you, bulge still prominent. “You’ve been watching me the whole time. Why stop now?”

  “No! I-I didn’t mean to—”

 He nodded teasingly, “you liked it.” Sanji snickered when you snapped your mouth shut, your denial ruined by the searing shame choking your words as he stalked closer. “I liked it too,” he said lowly, “made me so hard.”

 “I wasn’t—” you huffed, desperate to explain yourself despite the way your gaze flickered down at his chest with every pathetic stammer. “I just wanted- and then you- it’s only—”

 Sanji laughed, waving his hand dismissively with his cigarette pinched between his fingers, twirling a ring of smoke between you. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. No harm in a little peeking,” his teeth flashed prettily, excitement shining at your bashful glances towards his shapely crotch. “If you want, maybe you can make it up to me. I’d hate to tell the rest of the crew what you did.”

 “How?” You hated how timid you sounded, so you cleared your throat and stood straighter, only taking a small step back when he got closer, heart thundering and not at all bothered by his proximity. “It’s not like I’d let you watch me. I know what you’re like.”

 “Do you?”

 “Y-yes.”

 His curly brow quirked up, amusement glossing his tone, “You don’t sound so sure, dearie.”

 “I know you’ll just brag about me looking at you as if I’m some horny perv lurking around the boy’s room—”

 “But you are,” he interjected, taking a slow drag of smoke and blowing it downwind. “I wasn’t the one caught lurking—”

 “This time!” You bristled from the accusation, digging an accusatory finger at his firm, muscled chest, lingering a second too long before snapping. “You’re the one always butting in when the girls bathe. You’re the one trying to sneak a glance when we change! You’re the rude one!” You shouted, guilt clawing in your chest when all he did was smile. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry, okay? But don’t make me out to be a pervert like you.”

 Sanji rubbed his chest sadly, palming the exact spot you touched as if he were cherishing the contact with his big hand sprawled on his own skin. “Aw, darlin’,” he cooed with a cute pout on his lips, “do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No!” you shrieked a little too quickly, “I-I mean, yes! When you—”

 “When I undress?”

“God!—”

 “When I rub my cock?”

 Your cheeks burned, a strangled whine slipping before you could clamp your teeth on your bottom lip, “That’s not! You—”

 “I, what?” he purred, tilting his head down again, the simmering scent of smoke tickling your lips, “you can’t even look at me in the eye, but you had no trouble watching me stroke my cock to you. Did watching me make you wet, darlin’?”

 The lie spilled in an undignified splutter, the word no holding too many syllables when you tried to say it.

 His laughter chimed in your ears, a vibrant sound that brightened his face, and though he was laughing at you, a part of you softened from the sight. Mesmerised by it.

 Pretty. Shimmering waters.

 Somehow, it helped you release a steady breath, perhaps for the first time since you discovered him. Putting you at ease and in control.

 Taking another step back, it was easier to blurt out your next half-lie. “I wasn’t watching you, I came for something.”

  “Is there any chance that thing being me?”

“There is a better chance I slap you if you don’t back the fuck up.”

  “Promise?” Sanji chuckled, a rosy blush tinting his cheeks. He invaded your space again, smoke and soap stroking your senses while his hands stayed respectfully by his sides. “Wow, dirty words sound so pretty when you say it.” He tilted his chin, inching closer, lips inviting, “Say fuck again.”

 In your head, you slapped him. You pushed past his large, dominating frame, and went on your way to enjoy the bath you had planned and forget all that you have seen.

 In reality? In the sensuous bubble of arousal he encased you in— the curse tickled his lips in a low murmur. Like a pre-emptive kiss he savoured by swiping his tongue on his bottom lip just so he could taste the words you teased as an insult.

 “Again,” he pleaded, slanting you into the wooden railing. Gripping the beam. Almost chest to chest. Almost touching.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “you.”

 “Please…again..”

“Sanji—”

 “mmhh..”

“—fuck… you.”

 “Shit.” his laugh strained into a desperate husk.

 You could almost taste it. And you wanted to, to taste him that is, because you could tell he was cracking. In a singular moment, you turned the tides on him, taking the upper hand and the dominance he flexed exposing you. And like a switch, Sanji was pleading— his adams apple bobbed, lips parted, eyes blown. Not anything like the charm he exuded earlier. He sounded helpless. Distraught. Struggling against the invisible line you still held between you, yet honouring the boundary you have placed because he was still a gentleman.

 You admired that.

 Part of you— the wretched, drunk on lust part you shoved in a cage most nights to escape her fantasies— wished for him to push the waters and break the barrier. To feel the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. His hands, his lips.

 His eyes shined instead. Hooded and sparkling a desire you mimicked with your slow breaths.

 The birds squawked above, and Sanji finally found his voice.

“Can I masturbate to you?”

 “Huh?”

“You’re so pretty, so tempting,” he said. Flexing his grip on the beam as if it were a lifeline. “I loved it when you were watching me. If you don’t want me to touch you, that’s fine. I won’t push you. But please, watch me. And I promise it will be just between us, okay?”

 You squirmed. The words of rejection faded faster than they formed while you tried not to shrink under his pleading stare. You could feel your back pressed against the rail, digging into your skin as Sanji stood tall, shirtless and strong— caging you with his hand gripping the wooden beam right by your hip. Your bodies close, breaths hot and almost in sync, yours just a little shakier as you contemplated his invitation.

 To watch him. Openly.

 Why was it so daunting with his permission? With his lust blown eyes homed in on yours. Longing for something more than your stuttered breath to brush his skin.

 Even in the open air, all you could feel was the heat raying from his bare chest and the twinge of smoke fanning around you. His arousal straining yet inches away from contact with your thigh he keeps achingly out of reach. It was just him, you, and the birds sitting on the mast, but it felt like you were locked in a steel cage with hundreds of spectators waiting on your next move.

 You couldn’t hear them above the raging waves of your own thoughts. However, it was hard to stay objective when the currents that pulsed in your blood rushed between your thighs, dousing you with a tender ache that was becoming harder to ignore.

 When you took too long to respond, his smile faded. “I’ll leave you be—”

 “Sit back down,” you commanded, pushing on his chest and smiling when he shuddered beneath your palm.

 Sanji grinned. He took your hand, your name spoken softer than any ballad as he whispered it into your skin and placed a kiss to accompany the warmth it spread. “Yes, my lady.”

 In the depths of his eyes, you fell. The world blackened and you plunged deep into his domain. Into his desires.

 Tethered only by the delicate hold he kept of your hand, you stepped into the room behind him, keeping your head up despite the nervousness that swirled within.

 The anonymity you deluded yourself into believing snapped when the door closed behind you. Sanji was freakishly deceptive. Of course, he knew. Of course, he was teasing you. But the genuine plea that shined in his eyes made it impossible to walk away.

 He looked so cute. So masculine and vulnerable at the same time. You wanted to see more of him it drove you right into the lustful fog that blanketed the space in between.

 When he released your hand, you found yourself missing the contact of his large palm clasped in yours.

 Sanji took his place back on the sofa, thighs spread, and lips parted in breathless excitement. But before anything else happened, he snuffed his bud in the ashtray in front of him. “You can walk away any time you want, sweetheart. No hard feelings or awkwardness, okay?”

 Your shoulders visibly relaxed, unaware they were ever tense, but it made you smile anyway. Grateful for the reminder and the familiarity of his gentlemanly deference.

 “I know,” you give him a genuine smile, “just between us, yeah?”

“Of course, darlin’.” His smile mirrored yours like the glimmering waters they are modelled after. Putting you at ease and in control once again when he affirms; “Just between us.”

 With a deep breath— you cooled your expression, while his eyes shined as an air of apathy befell around you.

 There was no turning back from this, and as you stood there, shielded from the cooling wind and the anchoring weight of the door you once hid behind, you realised that you truly didn’t want to.

 You were inside.

 You had his attention. You could watch him— Sanji, undress, and pleasure himself without anything obstructing your view or fixate on the shame twisting in your gut this time because he invited you in. Led you by the hand while you pretended the contact didn’t ignite anything.

 That the warmth of his hand clasped in yours didn’t buckle your knees when you stepped over the threshold. Or that you could still feel the brush of his lips on your fingers.

 You could continue pretending none of it mattered because this was just a game, and you were good at playing games. You could play this one with him too.

 “Sit back,” you ordered after finally finding your voice, “—and show me what you were doing.”

 “Fuck,” his hands fumbled.

 His excitement forced you to chew on your bottom lip to surpass a snicker. It was endearing, but you held onto your indifference like a vice. You were looking forward to seeing him unravel.

 “Keep—” he swallowed thickly. “Keep talking to me like that.”

“Like what?” you watched him palm his cock through his pants again, his erection growing harder with the new stimulation beneath his hand. “Tell you how I like to watch pretty boys touch themselves?”

 “uhh-ha,” Sanji choked softly. “You think I’m pretty?”

 You crossed your arms, smirking when his attention locked on to the swell of your breasts curving over the top of the dress, flashing delectable skin that had him swiping his tongue hungrily. “I think you’re a little pathetic,” you shrugged, “and predictable.”

 His lip tilted. “I guess I just can’t help myself.”

“Hmm, well, you can have a little more decorum, though. Be a little less obvious too.”

 He chuckled airily. “Not when I’m stroking my cock to you, darlin.”

 Sanji shifted slightly, dragging his pants down lower and exposing more of the dark blonde trail that led past his waistband. Taunting you with a flash of skin you couldn’t turn away from. “Want to see how hard just looking at you makes me?”

 A smile peeked through despite your best efforts. “I can see well enough from here.”

 “That’s not what it looked like before,” he teased, cupping his balls through the fabric. “I thought you might fall through the door from how far you leaned in trying to sneak a peek.”

 “I wasn’t—”

“I thought we were passed the bashful lies, sweetheart?”

 You peered down at him through your lashes, ignoring the flush creeping up your neck from his sultry gaze.

 Neither of you said another word for a minute as the room filled with Sanji’s breathy sighs. He was using his abs again, clenching them and bucking his hips to rub his cock against his pants. The friction making him grip the sofa. His lips part.

 Your thighs cinched watching his reddened tip slip through when his pants slid further down. He looked wrecked already. Pearly dribbles of pre-cum smeared over his abs, trickling over the toned lines and ridges with every jerk of his hips, adding a lewd sheen to his skin as the rise and fall of his chest quickened.

 Just standing there stumbled whines from his throat, you wondered about the sort of sounds he would make into your neck.

 “Sanji”. His gaze snapped up. “Use your thumb for me,” you said softly. “Rub on your slit, I want to see your tip get sensitive.”

 “Sh-it, like this?”

“Good boy.”

 He moaned.

“Oh,” you grinned. “You like that, huh?”

 Sanji nodded timidly, his blush darkening when his control slipped. He didn’t mean to confess such a kink, but the way you purred the praise sent shockwaves up his spine. Made his cock twitch, hand tremble.

 “I like how you talk to me,” he confessed lowly. “Your voice, how it sounds when you say my name. How you lower your tone, or your breath catches when I groan— fuck. It drives me crazy.”

 You hummed playfully, nibbling on your bottom lip when he canted his hips into his hand rhythmically. Now completely free from the confines of his slacks, his cock stayed caged in his fist, his shaft long and slender throbbing with a hue that matched his cheeks as pre-cum slicked loudly, coating his fingers in its sticky mixture while you stood there ignoring the wetness soaking your own panties.

 “You look desperate already, Sanji-kun.” You teased lightly, hiding your hands behind your back so he couldn’t see you dig your nails into your palms. “Do you like being watched that much? I can see you leaking, your cock is so wet, and we’ve just started. Are you going to cum so soon? That’s sort of pathetic, don’t you think?”

 “I can’t help it,” he groaned, damp blond strands falling over high cheekbones. “It’s like your eyes set me on fire. Igniting everything that sits under my skin, burning me through, it feels so good, it almost hurts. Fuck, sweetheart, I can’t imagine what would happen if you touched me. Your hands on my chest, your sweet lips on my neck. If you so much as leaned into me, letting me breathe in your scent, uhh-shit- I’m ashamed to admit I might cum untouched.” His throat constricted, seizing his words into a tortured rasp. “Darlin’, for my sake, for my sanity, you have to stay back and let me just watch. Let me look at you and imagine all the ways you’d set me alight with just a kiss.”

“Would you let me?” you asked breathlessly. “Kiss you, I mean.”

 “Oh, in a heartbeat.”

“Even if you’d gush blood and pass out?” you couldn’t help the giggle.

 “Even if it were my last,” Sanji groaned desperately. “To kiss you would be the end of me, and I would pray they’d bring me back so I can do it again.”

 Your chest tightened hearing the affection hidden beneath his moans.

 There were deep crescent shapes in your palms now, the skin reddened and pinched from your efforts to maintain even an ounce of control, but the sting paled in comparison to the drum of your heartbeat slamming against your ribs. Rattling the bars of your sanity the longer you stood in his presence.

 Sanji looked at you as if— as if he would never see the light again.

 With awe, longing, and something close to anguish when the light shines further away from him. As something beyond his reach yet to be cherished and marvelled at all the same. To be revered. Desired. Loved but never possessed because it wasn’t his place to assert his will, but to bask in the warmth the light spread.

 It was intoxicating, and he was unravelling faster than you anticipated.

 You could tell from how he thumbed the thin veins forking along his length, how pre-cum spilled over his fingers, pooling at the base of his cock and how his chest heaved that he was chasing a fast-approaching release that had him stuttering your name past his lips— involuntarily rising heat all the way to the tips of your ears.

 Sanji was too erratic. Too frenetic.

 Moaning and thrusting and rolling his wrist over and over his shaft so fast, it was a wonder he remained conscious. He looked unbalanced. A sort of frantic that reminded you of all the times he over-excited himself and exploded into a fit leaving him comatose and bloodied.

 You had to slow him down, to set the pace for now only to have him moan in a melody of salacious cries later on, and then bend him into a rhythm only your pulse can match.

 At your mercy, your control.

 In a way that wouldn’t end with the rest of the crew returning to find Sanji dead on the floor seeped in his own cum and blood. This is exactly how this was heading if you let him continue down this path.

 Whining incessantly while fucking his tight fist in faster strokes, his teary gaze seared straight into your core, almost certain you could feel the warmth of his touch from across the room as you fought the urge to squirm and find the power to bark:

  “Stop.”

 The command shot straight through him. Snapping him at attention like a stinging whip on his back.

 His jaw ticked. Veins pulsed.

 Sanji’s rigid composure would have been comical if his erection hadn’t slapped against his stomach. Angry red and swollen with need, it looked almost painful, especially with the way his brows twisted miserably as he panted heavily glowing with sweat and desperation.

 “Breathe.”

 When he inhaled a wheezing, sharp breath— you shook your head, instructing him to go slower. Calmer. Until his shoulders laxed and his throat swallowed a decent gulp. “Good boy, just breathe for me.”

 Sanji nodded meekly, even managing a smile as he clenched and unclenched his hands on his knees, wiping off the gooey, sordid evidence of his arousal in quiet shame.

 You observed him critically, assessing his mental and physical state and deeming him a little untethered. As if he were floating, glassy-eyed and adrift in his own mind until enough deep breaths grounded him back to your focus. You watched him come to grips with things— his attention shifting to his pants bunched at his thighs, to his cock standing full mast, to the hot air suffocating the room.

 Sanji sighed wistfully, threading his trembling hand through his sweaty bangs and out of his face, a deep blush colouring his cheeks.

“Feeling better?” you asked gently. “I just can’t have you passing out on me before things really get started.”

 It took him a moment to find his voice again. His throat was dry despite the wetness clinging to his skin.

 “Sorry. I’m just— I’m so hard,” he chuckled weakly. “Can’t, uhh— I can’t imagine what you might think of me right now. How ridiculous and pathetic I might look being so— so enamoured by you.”

 You shrugged to lighten the mood. “I always assumed you were a two-minute man, but I won’t tell anyone.”

 The laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes as he flexed his fists, actively avoiding the erection pulsing against his stomach, or the truth of his blinding lust and the dizzying spell it held over him.

 “I thought I could— I thought I had more control, like when we were on the deck.” Sanji said sullenly, vaguely aware of the festering insecurities. “It was exciting being the one to tease you, to look down at a beautiful woman like you and make her flustered. Being so close to you was- it was so hot, electric even— but having you watch me right now in that commanding tone is ten times more intense. It’s addicting— it’s also humiliating and thrilling all at once. I feel so contorted and … I’m embarrassed to admit how far I’m willing to let you break me”. He confessed shyly.

 “Sanji…”

 “But that somehow turns me on even more. It’s just… you’re so beautiful”. Sanji whispered gravelly, “It’s just not fair what that does to me.”

 “It’s okay,” you released your own shaky inhibitions with a slow exhale and offered a tilted smile, warmth tickling your cheeks upon his conviction. “I like seeing you this way. It was fun on the deck, how dominating you were teasing me. But right now, your eyes shine and it’s really flattering.” You smirked playfully, “Pretty boys like you look best when they’re sweaty and desperate.”

 Sanji’s blush was much more obvious than yours, his fair complexion making every inner thought radiate through his skin, but he stayed quiet for a few seconds, his smile strained.

 “Be honest with me. If-if I hadn’t said anything, would you have walked away without a word afterwards?”

 You thought about it for a moment, stunning him with your impassive gaze towards his raw vulnerability.

 There was a touch of wistfulness in it— in the tenderness of his question making it clear that your answer would mean more to him than simply feeding his ego— he needed to feel desirable, worthy— so with a wicked idea, you took those steps forward to bridge the gap between you and relished when his chest hitched visibly as you stood planted between his open thighs.

 You pulled him back from the edge, only so you could push him down yourself.

 You were so close he could reach out and touch you now if he wanted, his leg could press against yours. His arm could brush your thigh and call it an accident, or he could even brazenly drag you into his lap to finally feel relief on his aching cock. It wouldn’t even take much strength on his part, to grab you by the arm and yank you into his awaiting heat. Your body warm and pressed against his. Flushed and tight.

 But as you peered down at him— his lashes wet, face burning, pre cum glistening. Hands stilted on his knees as he inhaled your scent so deep it filled his chest— you know Sanji would never cross that line, not without permission.

 You felt powerful in that fact. In the knowledge that you could break a man as powerful as him with a caress, a word. A kiss.

 “Yes. I would have walked away,” you confessed firmly. When his expression fell, you bent down at the waist, the words brushing on his lips. “But I would have paid extra close attention to you.”

 His mouth fell open, your name almost coherent in the pitiful whimper that escaped disguised as a breath. Yet he still managed to smile despite the blood rushing to his head. “Sweet God, you’re cruel.”

“And you’re shaking.”

 He was.

 Already unsteady and trembling to keep himself upright. To stay conscious and not let his vision completely glaze over as white spots danced across your face, sparkling you in a tantalising light he fought to keep in his sights even if it muffled his other senses when your scent enveloped him too. Erotically feminine and something so distinctly you his pulse ticked beneath his jaw.

 “More, please..”

“mhmm— you have to open your eyes and look at me, Sanji-kun. I might get sad and walk away if you don’t.”

When he finally opened them, you were blessed by the sight of shimmering tears glossing wide, love filled pupils.

 “y’know…” you sighed, fighting the warmth spreading between your thighs, “watching you made me realise something.”

 “What?”

 “That there are layers to you, and I liked discovering them.” The noise he made resembled a strangled animal when you brushed your thumb over his soft cheek. “Your patience, tenderness, diligence, I never paid it any special attention until today. How you take care of your things, how gentle your hands are— I never thought you would be so…” you swiped your tongue upon his bottom lip. “Beautiful.”

 “Fuck..” his eyes rolled. A full body shudder raked down his back this time, prickling every fibre etched in his being and ultimately triggering sensitive blood vessels in his nose to pop suddenly as spurts of cum pre-emptively dribbled out of his tip.

 You giggled. “Are you okay, Sanji-kun?”

you watched him shake his head inaudibly, hips humping the air for much needed relief as the blood trickled down his nose in slow drips. Almost mimicking how his cock drooled obscenely.

 He wouldn’t last much longer like this. Every muscle, nerve and vein burned to keep himself tethered to the seat. “More, I beg you. T-talk to me more, ‘m so close..”

 His plea sounded hoarse even to his own ears, but it made you smile all the same.

 “I think,” you trailed off, flickering your eyes to his lips, then wiping off the blood gently. “I would have paid attention to your laugh.”

 That sobered him a little bit, the confusion furrowed his brows.

 “You looked at ease, even though you were teasing me. I liked hearing you hum, chuckle, seeing you smile. You looked relaxed. There was something attractive about it, I can’t quite explain how much I enjoyed seeing that, even before you unzipped your pants. I think I was a little enamoured by you.”

 His expression glowed. “R-really?”

 You nodded earnestly. “You’re beautiful, Sanji. That’s why I was watching you, why I had to walk away cause it made me feel guilty to see you so … unguarded.”

 “I—”

“Do me a favour,” you cupped his jaw with a warm palm, “don’t pass out.”

 Before he could reply, Sanji tasted heaven.

 It was the slightest touch on his lips, barely a kiss, hardly a brushstroke, but it was enough to hear something akin to an angel’s song as he was bathed in a white light.

 Or …

 His eyes rolled so far back, his vision became discoloured, and the sound he heard was a high-pitch whine that tore through his own throat and reverberated in the room.

“On your knees.”

 Sanji collapsed, gasping and quaking on his hands and knees as if he’d been fighting for his life. Which, in a way, he really was. Fighting to keep some blood in his system that hadn’t already poured into his cock or down his nose when the heat coiling in his belly burned that much hotter from your kiss. Scorching him, blistering the goosebumps that prickled along his flesh making him hypersensitive and numb all at once— numb to the sounds outside this room, hypersensitive to your every move. And if anyone were to find him like this— no, he didn’t care. You were a dream he never wanted to wake up from, even if it ripped him apart, and he’d be damned if anyone came to ruin it now.

 Instead, he chewed on his bottom lip, savouring the taste of you, of your sweet gloss and plump lips and dizzying scent— but when he reached to fist his cock to the memory of you pressed against him— Sanji couldn’t stop himself from keening loudly when your foot pushed his hand away.

 “I didn’t say you could touch yourself, cutie’.”

 “What can I do?” Sanji quivered up at you pleadingly. “I’ll do anything, please. Oh please, please tell me what to do for you, darlin’.”

 “Take off my shoes.”

 You lifted your right leg for him, offering up your foot clad in the strappy sandal and watched him inhale sharply through his nose.

 “I—” his adams apple bobbed as he sat back on his heels, “I can touch you?”

 This was a test, a prank. You were only playing with him. the kiss was enough to kill him, and your smile was too sinful to be sincere, but he prayed, nonetheless. Pleaded and hoped and then choked on his own spit when you nodded firmly.

 “Yes, but only my legs. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll give you something better.”

 Sanji nodded heartily, murmuring his thanks and gratitude for the opportunity presented to him, his voice carrying a thick layer of emotion he didn’t have the sense to evaluate for this blessing. Only knowing the relief he felt when your bare skin pressed against his, whispering the praises into the cleft of your ankle— his lips brushed a chaste kiss, a sweet touch that could only be seeped with devotion.

 You wouldn’t have heard it at all if it weren’t breathed into your skin, ardently sincere like the last prayer whispered by the helpless. So, in an act of mercy, you brushed his hair back and tilted his head up towards you, holding him delicately as if he’d shatter by your hands. Which you were fully capable of doing— but you presented him the tenderness of your smile instead, verbalising your consent and letting it flow soothingly between you.

 He took a few seconds to stabilise himself, though even with your permission, Sanji’s touch felt shaky against your skin as if he was unsure about your words or his own strength to maintain consciousness, but he did anyway. Willed himself with the strength to harden his spine and indulge in his deepest desires. Just this once, while you still graced him with it.

 His hands were warm, soft, and gentle. Everything like the man they belonged to as Sanji stroked your leg sensually, starting from your knee all the way down to your ankle. His long fingers pressing and squeezing the supple skin beneath his palms, curving along your plump flesh pulling quiet sighs you didn’t bother to hide that he drank in greedily, relishing in your pleasure as if it was pierced straight into his vein.

 “y’so beautiful,” Sanji groaned into your leg. “I can’t believe—” he shook his head, ridding himself of the doubt that plagued him before dragging his lips along your calf as his fingers fiddled with the strap that wrapped around you. Achingly slow and deliberately unhurried. “You’re so soft, it’s incredible. Even your legs are gorgeous.” he spoke as if thorns were scraping his throat, every word coming out in a low rasp filled with need. “Every part of you sets me on edge,” he continued, his kisses following where the straps once curled, “— as if I’m holding on by my fingertips, and the only thing that keeps me from breaking— from plummeting and colliding into the ground is you.” He slipped your shoe off and placed it gently to the side, your foot now bare, then moved on to the other leg and gave it the exact same treatment. “But… its also like you’re waiting for me at the bottom, ready to unearth me and giggle as you dust off the dirt from my shattered bones.”

 You feel his kiss on your ankle again, a breathy sigh tickling your flesh as you swallowed your nerves. “What if I am? I like you beneath me.”

 “I don’t mind,” he replied easily. He held you up carefully, his grip firm yet tender as he kneaded the taut muscle, every caress and gentle stroke pooling desire deep in your core. “If it were anyone else, I would have done what I usually do by making a fool of myself as soon as the rest of the crew left.” The heat of his stare was almost unnerving. “But it was you, and I never felt more compelled to fall.”

 Fuck.

 You lost your resolve, and your expression softened with a laugh that fluttered out like the butterflies tickling your chest. “You shouldn’t look so attractive with your cock so wet, Sanji-kun. It’s unfair, and hard to remain impassive when you look so beautiful desperate for me.”

 “I’m sorry, darlin’.” He laid his cheek against your leg, exhaustion weighing him. “We can stop”, he offered sincerely. This momentary pause gave him the clarity he needed, the fog inhibiting his senses cleared enough to think. Though his cock still ached, there was a layer of calm settling too. Your comfort important to him above all else. “You’ve done more than enough for me,” Sanji pressed another kiss to your knee, your shoe accompanying its twin on the floor, “more than I could have hoped for already. It won’t take much for me to finish on my own. You were wonderful, darlin'.”

 “You would stop, just like that?”

 “Of course,” Sanji affirmed candidly, his eyes kind. “Like I said, I would do anything for you. My pleasure is secondary.”

The words hung in the air, but your plan was still in motion.

 “Tell me, then. What would happen if I touched right…here.”

“Ahh-uhh!”

 “Does it hurt?” you cooed sickeningly sweet. “hmm, from your expression it looks like you’re enjoying it a little too much.”

 He bobbed his head frantically, blonde hair flailing with the movement, your devious plan wrecking him immediately. “Ye-es, in the-uhh best way, angel. Fu-uuck, I-I can’t believe you’re tou-ching me like this.”

 “Yeah? y’like it that much?” you laughed airily. “Your balls feel soft on my foot, all rounded and heavy.” Lifting your leg up higher, you rubbed your leg on his length, sliding it up and down, skin to skin, until those salacious moans spilt from his mouth in loud cries. “wow, it’s’warm and wet from all the pre you were leaking earlier, too. How gross.”

 “Oh-oh, god, pl-ease, sweet darlin’. Fuck-ngh!”

 You hummed delightedly, watching his cheeks blossom into another sweet blush, his eyes glazing over immediately as Sanji shuddered and keened beneath you with the familiar scent of desperation clouding the room in a thicker layer. A potent, charged atmosphere that had you panting as you watched Sanji unravel once again in the short time you had him under your command— your plan a success.

 “You’re dripping all over again.” you teased with another slow drag of your foot, his balls resting on top while his shaft twitched upon your shin. “Look at how your pretty cock leaks! All red and cute! So much cum, I’m surprised you haven’t squirted.”

  “ohh-ahh, sw-sweetheart don’t be me-eean!”

 “I’m not!” you insisted through unfiltered giggles. “Look at you, humping my leg! Gettin’ yourself all worked up from just touching me, you’re so cute, Sanji-kun.” Your laughter seized as you clicked your tongue, faux disgust colouring your tone as you rolled your foot over his long shaft, collecting the stringy wetness that drooled from his tip on your toes. “Tsk, your cock is makin’ a dirty mess all over my leg, though. Could you be anymore pathetic?”

 “’m so’rry,” he squirmed. “Ca-an I clean it uhh-up?”

  You leered down at him, “only if you use your mouth, pretty.”

 Sanji licked long strokes along your leg, collecting the sticky essence that spit from his tip the harder he rolled his hips. Swallowing his own dirty arousal while fervently grinding his cock along the curve of your leg with no sense or rhythm, only following the lust you stoked within him, stumbling moans, hitching his whines. Begging and squeezing his eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling, but you saw them anyway.

 You saw everything. How his chest concaved with every breath he took, how his balls pulled tight on your foot, how deeply and utterly he was at your mercy.

 It filled you with pride. Along with a dark sense of satisfaction you couldn’t quite place to have Black-leg Sanji— bounty over a billion berries, the left wing of the future king of the pirates— whinging and coating your skin with his arousal.

 And you had one more trick up your sleeve. One that could possibly kill him, but you wanted to push the boundaries.

  See how far you could bend him before he snapped.

 “You can’t cum yet,” you sang cheerily, weaving your fingers through his hair again. “You have to be good for me, okay?”

 “Fuu-uk, ‘m tryin’!” Sanji cried out, his last threads of control almost slipping from his grasp, stitch by stitch, seam by seam, but he gripped them tighter in his fists, and fiercely blinked away the fog misting his vision just to have the chance to gaze upon your smile for a little while longer. “I wo-on’t, jus’ for you. Cause you-you asked.”

 “Good boy. Now, tell me you like it.” you gave his hair a firm tug, directing focus to his bucking hips. “Tell me how much your cock aches, how hard it is, how much you love touching me.”

 Sanji shuddered, another frantic nod dizzying his vision as he jerked his hips harder. “I do! So-so much”, he hiccupped. “I lo- ohhh, uhh, yes!— I love you touch-in’ me. Teasin’ me, makin’ a mess of me-eee— ahh, shit! Tou-uch me, please, fuck! Please, I love it— love your eyes, your voice, your touch. I’ll die, ohh, god-oh god, lemme jus’ die like this, it’s oka-ay if it’s you. For you, all you, fuck-fuck!”

 “I think you deserve your reward now, Sanji-kun.”

 Sanji snapped his head up, his hips stilting. “This-this isn’t the reward?” how could it not be? He was touching you, kissing your body, smearing his cock all over your pretty leg. What could be better than this?

 You pulled back from him, and slowly, painfully slow, deathly slow, you lifted the hem of your dress.

 He first saw your thighs, thick and supple, making him swipe his tongue along his bottom lip just imagining the taste of your sweat, of the grooves of your cellulite.

  your dress lifted higher, and his hands flexed, picturing squeezing on the squishy flesh and feeling it fill his palms and pudge out against his fingers where he couldn't quite grasp.

 This was the reward, yes? Pretty, coloured thick thighs he’d be happy to touch, to worship with hips he could sink his teeth into, full and curved and beautifully rounded.

 But your hand lifted higher. Higher. Until he ascended so high he heard the angel’s song again, welcoming him to paradise.

 “Sanji, you’re shaking an’ whining loudly.”

 Was he?

“Wipe the blood first… good boy. Come here, it’s’okay,” you tugged him closer, his face inches away from your panties. “You’ve been so good, I thought you might like to ...” your cheeks burned, “To touch.”

  He could smell it now, the wetness that made your thighs clench earlier. That had you sighing and chewing on your bottom lip as he chased his own pleasure. The arousal that allowed him this far with you, coating your pink panties and, fuuck.

 You-your panties… they— they had the cutest bow on it. right above your mound and the lewd wet patch he ached to… “Did-did you say touch?”

 You nodded, tugging him closer by his hair. “I won’t take off my panties, but I don’t see why you can’t use them to get yourself off, just this once. It’s what you always wanted, right?”

 What he always wanted.

 “Are… are you sure?”

 What he always wanted and prayed and dreamed and lusted after— but he had to make sure. To know this is what you wanted. Sanji couldn’t— he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if it weren’t your desire too. Even if he was seeing double and the room tilted on its axis or his blood pooled on the floorboards more than his own body, he wouldn’t be able to stand again without hearing you say—

  “Sanji-kun, touch me.”

 You tugged him closer, cooing your affirmations, stroking his hair. Going slow and speaking so softly, he wondered if you were talking to him at all.

 “It’s okay,” you purred, your eyes gentle. “You can use me to cum. I want to see you cum for me.”

Use you?

His brows knitted. That didn’t sound right.

Use.

 Use.

Use?

 That word felt wrong, dirty. Even in his inebriated, lust-filled fog, Sanji knew that it wasn’t right. That it was tactless. That you deserved better than that.

 “I don’t— I don’t want to ever use you.” he husked. Just saying the word made his stomach churn, and though his limbs felt heavy, he lifted himself a little taller on his knees. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”

 Sanji’s sudden coherency surprised you when he was trembling moments before, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in his tone, and you could only stare— awed, heated and incredibly wrecked with the emotions he stirred. Yet rather than replying, your grip on him tightened, a challenge tilting your brow, waiting to see what move he’d make with the offer you raised.

 “Okay… oh-okay, ‘m gonna touch you now, darlin’.”

 With all the strength he could muster, Sanji pushed forward and inhaled deeply, pressing his nose in your crotch, and filling his lungs until the only air that could possibly flow through him was you. “Ohh, fuck.” Sanji groaned, the sound vibrating on your most intimate parts, pulling deep from his throat, and sounding nothing short of sinful that had you keening lowly in response.

 “Oh, fuck- oh fuck, darlin’ you’re a dream.” He murmured into your cunt, his words bleeding back to babble as he breathed in long and deep. It was intoxicating, the heady scent of your pussy. Driving him mad, sick, practically delirious by the slick that marred your panties, creating the most dazzling patch of arousal right in the middle. Oh fuck, his tongue immediately began lapping at the damp fabric caging your plump lips. “Fuck!”

 You choked on a moan. “Is that all you can say?”

 Sanji shook his head, his hands finding your full-figured hips and squeezing, eliciting a low mewl with the fat filling his palms and bulging out at the sides just how he pictured it. “Fuck!” he grunted again into your cunt; his mouth muffled but his shouts reverberated from the intensity that shook him at the core. “Fuck-fuck!”

 You huffed out a chuckle. “Sweetie, if it’s too much for you—”

 He couldn’t hear you. Sanji held you tighter, drew you closer into his open mouth, his jaw slack, muscles taut, cock aching— but it was a sensation he could ignore while his tongue messaged and rolled and lapped at your clothed cunt. Dragging along your labia over and over until it wettened enough to slip his tongue down the seam of your pussy, spreading it to finally circle your pulsing clit and suck, the fabric damp with a lewd mixture of slick and saliva as your whimpers rang loud.

 “Fu-uhh, shit, you taste so goo’ fo’me”, his words were gruff, his mind addled— Sanji couldn’t focus past your cunt, your scent, not when it wafted through him and settled deep in his abdomen— twisting lust straight down to his neglected cock drooling on the floor.

 “Sa-anji! Fuck, hmm, keep-keep going!”

 He groaned, digging his fingers into your hips and shoving you harder into his mouth. “Su’ch a pretty cunt, shit-fuck.” He held you firmly, his strength unrelenting even as you swayed, letting you writhe on his face. “Darlin’, sweet girl, sweet sweet cunt, uhh, y’make my cock hurt so-so much. Make me so hard, so dizzy. All you, shit-shit. Uhh-uhh, s’wet fo’me. Tha’ank you. thank y-you, than-k you.”

 You moaned for him, and the sound of it tingled his spine, acutely aware of the sharp tugging on his scalp, but Sanji paid the rest of it no mind. He was touching you, licking your pussy through your pretty panties, inhaling your arousal, making you moan.

 Making you cry his name, making you wet.

 And he answered it all with low hums and deep grunts of praises, thanking you fiercely, his devotion syphoning from every breath as if you poured into him yourself.

 Sanji flickered his tongue on your clit, alternating between soft and hard strokes that had you grinding your hips on his tongue, and he revelled in it while your pussy rewarded him by staining your panties with sticky fluids he drank greedily. Devouring your cunt with his whole face, bumping his nose into your clit, his chin wet, cheeks flushed.

 “Imma cum!” you tried to warn him, to stave off the flutter in your belly and not embarrass yourself by cumming so soon, but his touch, his tongue— even with the panties in the way it only added to the friction. To the burn flooding over your body from the moment you discovered him. You squirmed, rocked, and sighed as the coil tightened in your belly— a sensation so intense you attempted to cinch your thighs, but Sanji pinched your hips, pulling you apart for him, ignoring your pleas.

 Holding you closer, grunting praises, flattening his tongue, pressing hard until you came with a loud cry.

 “Su’ch a goo’girl, so good for me. that’s it, lemme clean that up for you, darlin’.”

 Sanji lapped at your cunt, your panties ruined and almost dripping from your release that he swallowed as best he could before you ripped him off with a harsh tug.

 “Stand,” you panted harshly. Your balance was shoddy, but you stood firm, yanking the man to his full height, and wrapped your fist around his cock. Gently tugging on his flushed sex in quick strokes. “Cum for me.”

 Sanji curled into your touch, white-hot and just barely keeping himself standing with a hard grip on your hips— he slumped into your chest, fucking into your hand chaotically. “I-I didn’t— y-you. Uhh, fuck!”

 “What is it?”

 Tears stung his waterline. “I di-idn’t clean u-uhh, ahh, mmm, I wanted— wanted to clean you u-uhp.” He cried out, fidgeting in your grasp, his cock overly sensitive and shamefully drooling all over your wrist. He wanted to be strong, to make you cum and slump on his chest, but Sanji could hardly keep his eyes open at this point. He felt airy, foggy, every sensation felt like it was dolled up to ten and he couldn’t find the strength to keep standing.

 And it hurt, fuck, his cock hurt. His balls hurt, his chest hurt, breathing hurt— it ended up as short gasps and high-pitch whines into your neck until you brushed your thumb over his slit and Sanji saw stars.

 “ahh! Im-imma cum! ‘mma cu-uuh, fuck-fuck!”

 “It’s okay, sweet boy,” you jerked him firmly with one hand and pulled down the bow of your panties, exposing your plump mound. “Cum right here, I wan’ feel you cum on me.” you slipped his tip between your pussy lips, a low, wet, squelching noise added to his moans now.

 To yours and the raunchy sounds that swirled in between.

 “Sweet-sweetheart!” Sanji squeaked, bucking his hips widely, your pussy smearing wet kisses all over his cock. Hot and squishy and so so delicious his orgasm crashed through him like a tidal wave, surging and pulsing and dousing him with a pleasure that raked a voiceless cry— splatting his cum in your panties and slathering your slit with gooey, icky glops of his release. Your panties filled with both stains of arousal.

“Good boy.” your kisses feathered over his rapid pulse, the praises almost as gentle as your lips. “Such a good boy, shh. I got you, hun.”

 Sanji held you close, shivering through his climax, pitifully cowering his face into the warm crook of your neck until his cries settled into cute whimpers and the spots misting the corners blended into colours he could actually see.

 “Shh, you did so well, cutie.” You stroked his back, unbothered by the sweat clinging to his skin or the sticky, hot mush that was caged to your cunt. the latter tingling the nerves of your spine in an addictive way. “That felt amazing.”

 “Ye-yea?”

“Yes, hun.”

 There were a few seconds of heavy breathing, then shuffling of clothes, and suddenly, Sanji was seated back on the sofa, but the comforting weight of your plush body sat on top of him too. He liked it, it was grounding. Safe.

 Sanji held you tight, his strong arms locking you in place over his lap. Your bodies hot and tempering down ever so slowly in each other’s embrace.

 There’s was a gentle hum in the room, or maybe it was your voice, tenderly washing over him as Sanji came to grips with his body again. With the heat, the sweat and throb of arousal cooling into a low ebb in his abdomen. With the reality that you both stood in and your roles in it. But he couldn’t bring himself to care of anything else but you curling in his lap.

 You smelt nice, you played with his hair and hummed in his ear, and you felt so… so good in his arms.

 “Thank you.” he croaked after a while. Feeling satiated and satisfied sinking into your embrace, Sanji could do nothing else but whisper his thanks into your lips over and over, his kiss filled with all the gratitude of an answered prayer. “Thank you for this, for holding me. I don’t know when it got so out of hand.”

You smirked, patting his chest playfully, hoping he did not notice how your heart soared as you attempted to joke. “probably as soon as I agreed to this little game.”

 This time, Sanji’s smile beaned wide, pretty teeth shining bright. “I just can’t help myself, darlin.” he nuzzled into your cheek, savouring the intimacy. “I told you what would happen if you got too close.”

 You laughed softly, “I suppose I was warned.” You shifted in his lap, straddling him now instead with the gooey mixture flushed hot in your panties, squishing against your achy clit, it made you breathless. Eager. “If you’re a good boy—”

His stomach flipped excitedly.

 “—Maybe we’ll play again.”

 Sanji shuddered, his smile waning as his lips parted cutely. “Don’t tease me. I—”

 “SANJI! OI! I GOT THIS BIG FISH! IT HAS TWO HEADS CAN WE EAT IT?!”

“Oi, Shitty-brow! I found this buried sword, lemme cut you with it!”

 You stifled the laughter behind your hand, the cutest frown scrunching his face from their untimely interruption. Even so, you began moving to crawl off his lap before the other straw hats walked in with their treasures, but Sanji gripped your wrist, his pleading stare shooting familiar sparks in your core.

 “Promise we’ll do this again?”

You smiled warmly, leaning in for a kiss only to swipe your tongue upon his bottom lip, “Yes, and it will stay just between us.”

 Sanji blushed, savouring the taste of you on his own tongue. “Yea, of course. Just between us, darlin’.”

 This time, you stood up to leave, but not without one final look over your shoulder, “just like your cum soaking my panties right now.”

 You quickly slipped out of the room before anyone could notice, twirling your shoe as the sound of a heavy thud crashed behind you and the boys shouts followed shortly after.

 “WOW! So much blood! Was there a fight?! Are they still here?! I wanna fight!”

 “LUFFY N-NO THAT—”

 “EW SHITTY BROW! WAKE UP AND CLEAN THIS SHIT YOU PERV—”

Smoke rolls through the air as Law lets out a deep exhale.

“Whatcha smokin’ today?” You ask, lazily flipping through your magazine.

“Some plant native to yesterday’s island. Locals say this type has a strong body high,” Law replies, voice husky with smoke. You had been Law’s unofficial smoking buddy for the past few weeks now, even if you yourself didn’t participate. Usually Law tries new plants and variations of plants, and you keep him company, reading off fun facts from local books and magazines. This had become a little tradition for the two of you. Normally, you both would sit in silence, camped out in his office away from the rest of the crew. This was your peace and quiet from the others and this was Law’s most recent attempt at “being more adventurous”. You were the one he trusted most as a trip sitter, especially with your vast knowledge of plants. It was a win-win for the both of you.

Law leans forward in his chair, coughing a bit, “yeah, this one’s got a bite to it.”

“The smell is very sweet. I’d almost think you sprayed perfume in the air.”

“Taste is much different,” Law replies, brushing smoke out of his face.

“And the high?” Your eyes return to the magazine.

“Don’t really feel much yet.” He takes another long drag from the joint, filling the room up with even more smoke.

“Well if you keep this up I won’t be able to even see my magazine.”

“Yeah yeah. I’ll be done in a second.” Law coughs again. Then again. You playfully glare at him.

“…Sorry bout that. My throat’s on fire.” He clears his throat, trying not to cough again.

“That’s it.” You slap your magazine shut and make your way over to the other side of the room where Law was sitting.

“Open your mouth.”

Law looks puzzled for a second, then taken back.

“You’re coughing more than usual. I need to make sure it’s not causing too much irritation to your throat.”

“You know I’m a doctor right? I think I’d be able to recognize if I had a bad reaction.” Even if he couldn’t feel it, Law’s eyes were slightly red and his demeanor was definitely more relaxed than usual. He stays slumped in his chair as he opens his mouth for you. You gently hold his chin, lean closer towards him, and check the inside of his mouth. His throat was definitely red, but not swollen or closing up. ‘Good.’ Law’s eyes meet yours, then fall down your body, widening suddenly as he jumps back in his seat.

“What? What is it?”

He blinks twice and shakes his head. His cheeks are also red.

“Nothing. I’m all good, right?” Law stands up, avoiding eye contact.

“I think I’m gonna call it early tonight.”

“Are you sure? What did it finally kick in?” A smile creeps up on your face. “Are you high?” you tease. Law backs away from you, bumping his desk while creeping toward the exit.

“No I’m fine. I’m gonna go lay down.” His voice stays calm and reassuring but his body is ever-so-slightly on edge. A little concern finally settles in.

“Hey, let me know if you need anything? Promise?”

“Yeah fine. Goodnight.” He rushes out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

You’ve never seen him act like that. Something switched in him so fast. ‘Maybe it was the drug?’ You stand alone in the quiet room for a brief moment, studying the smoke clouds as they slowly dissipate. Your eyes fall on the packaging of the joint he was smoking. ‘He never did mention the name of the plant, did he?’

You study the packaging closely. The flower’s name was definitely new to you. Usually Law passes you the information sheets that are supplied with the joints. They always had interesting facts about the source’s greenery and culture. You carefully review the small piece of paper for any warnings. It’s all the usual “consume in moderation” and “this herb may cause anxiety” warnings, until a specific and quite obvious one catches your eye:

“WARNING: This herb is for reproductive purposes only. Consumption will result in an extreme increase in libido. PLEASE USE WITH CAUTION.”

“Shit.” You scan the rest of the information sheet. How did he not read any of this beforehand? There was a specific warning about the danger of sleeping immediately after consumption. ‘Of course there was.’ Part of you feared the state you might find Law in, but regardless you knew you had to let him know before it was too late.

—————————

You hurry over to Law’s quarters, pounding on the door.

“Law? I need to talk to you. Right now.”

No answer.

“LAW. This is important. Are you awake?” The knocks on his metal door echo through the cold, quiet hallway. On several occasions Law proved it wasn’t necessary to worry for your captain, but this situation could be serious. In between loud, forceful knocks, a faint calling of your name can be heard from the room on the other side of the door. You take it as the invitation you need to barge into his room.

Law’s fast, uneven breathing grows louder as you cautiously enter the room. You had prepared expectations of what you might find, but you never could’ve imagined how lewd the scene actually was.

Law is propped up on his bed, clothes off, furiously jerking his red, angry cock. His hips buck as cum from a previous orgasm drips down from his lower stomach. His whole face is burning red with frustration. Law doesn’t seem to notice you at first, and you almost don’t say anything. ‘Well he’s definitely not sleeping.’ But before you can process what’s in front of you, he notices you standing there, frozen in shock.

“FUCK,” he jolts in surprise, but instead of waking up from his daze, ropes of cum spray his stomach once again, adding to the preexisting loads. ‘How many times has this man already cum?’ You desperately want say something or even move, but your body has no control. You’re completely speechless and completely frozen, eyes locked on Law’s hand milking his cock. Then he finally snaps out of it.

“Shit,” he winces, now scrambling to pull on his trousers. “What are you doing here?”

You also snap out of your trance, instantly shielding your eyes and turning away from your captain.

“I uh- read the label. For the herb.” Your eyes fight to not peep through your fingers. “It’s a pretty nasty aphrodisiac.”

“No shit.” There’s strain in Law’s voice.

“Well, I was thinking… I can help you. If you want?” Your voice is meek.

“I’m fine. Now please GO.” His reply is laced with frustration.

“It’s just- I read the high wears off faster with stimulation from a partner. All I’m saying is that I’m willing to help?” There’s reluctance in your offer, as if he would completely snap at you for even considering it. There’s a long pause, where only Law’s heavy breathing can be heard.

“I can also go grab someone?” You break the uncomfortable silence. “I read the effects can last several hours to a few days with just… masturbation. And I can sure leave you to it, but I know you’re pretty busy to risk that kind of time. And you’re not supposed to sleep until it dies down. I’m sure that could be awhile”

A low “Fuck.” can be heard from Law’s bed. A small squeak rings from the mattress as he shifts in his spot. “It’s not that I don’t want you. It’s- I’m afraid of what I’ll do to you if I have you.” You cautiously uncover your eyes to see Law visibly shaking from the restrain he has on his body; The restrain he has not to touch himself in front of you. You fully close the door behind you and slowly approach the bed, wary yet somehow intrigued by Law’s response. He was not in his normal headspace. This had to be handled carefully. You sit down on the bed, just close enough to feel the body heat radiating from your captain, close enough to see the droplets of sweat on his forehead.

“I’m here for you. You don’t have to worry about me. I just want to help you feel better.” Your warm, reassuring smile freezes Law for a moment. His red, half-lidded eyes carefully study you, knowing his next move could completely change the dynamic between you two. His thoughts were foggy, but not foggy enough to act without thinking. But deep down he knew you were right. A busy man like Law didn’t have time to be down for the count for several days, and it probably would end up being that long, based on how much he smoked. There really wasn’t another great option. He let go of a sigh.

“Fine,” Law sounds reluctant. He props himself up a bit, cum from his stomach sliding down onto the waistline of his pants. “But you have to promise me you’re okay with this. You have to promise you’re okay with me fucking you. Hard.” Hearing Law’s words catch you off guard, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t stir something within you. Somewhere in the past few weeks, your innocent crush on Law had grown into something more intense, more fierce. And before today, you never thought you’d hear those words coming from his mouth, at least not outside of your dreams. But here he was, essentially promising that he was going to fuck you, hard. You couldn’t NOT be turned on by those words. Was this selfish of you to suggest “curing him”? Maybe. Were you taking advantage of him? Hard to tell. But the Law you know would be grateful you’re fulfilling your role as designated trip-sitter. ‘Right?’

You take a deep breath. Finally disregarding any overthinking. “I promise.”

Law doesn’t waste a second before grabbing you and flipping you on the mattress, ass up, face down. One of his hands held a tight grip on your wrists, pinning them behind your back. His hand caresses your ass, before pushing up your skirt. He grinds his still-clothed cock against you, groaning. You can feel the warm wetness on his pants from his previous loads. His hand gives your ass a squeeze before creeping lower, slowing running his long fingers over your panties, teasing your slit.

“Didn’t realize you were so wet for me…” Law’s voice is husky and almost unrecognizable, like he was under a trance. His fingers travel up and down the wet spot on your panties as he leans down closer to you, “I see why you offered to help...” he rasps. “You just wanted me to fuck you… what a selfish girl…” Law grinds even harder against you. This time, a moan escapes your lips. Law keeps your hands pinned, but his other hand abandons you, leaving you aching for his touch. For a moment, there’s nothing, only heavy breathing and the smell of sex. Anxiety rises as nothing happens. You try to push your hips back, hoping to feel some sort of touch, but his hand on your wrists forces you back.

“Don’t be a brat now.” A finger hooks in the seam of your underwear and traces down your ass, pulling the fabric aside to expose your cunt. You clench at the cold air and anticipation. It feels like you wait for ages. ‘What in the world could he even be doi-‘

Before you can finish your thought, Law drives his cock in you, bottoming out with a loud groan.

“Fuck… you feel so good…” Law growls, using your hip as an anchor to push himself deeper. You wince at the sudden sensation, feeling Law stretch your walls and push against your cervix. It felt overwhelming and delicious; his cock was bigger than you expected. He slowly pulls all the way out, and you feel every inch of it. Every curve and vein as he abandons your weeping cunt.

And then there was nothing. Just your exposed sex clenching around the emptiness. And the wait was agony. You unintentionally let out a small pathetic “please”. It was almost embarrassing, given that he was the one under the effects of an aphrodisiac. But you desperately needed Law back inside you. You try to turn your head back to see him, but he slams into you again, driving you further into the mattress. That delightfully painful feeling returns as he bottoms out once again.

This time, Law starts fucking you. His pace is fast and messy. You arch your back, reveling in the sensation. Law’s groans are uneven and getting louder with every thrust, but so were yours. You pray the other crew members can’t hear the two of you, but it may already be too late for that. Choosing to disregard anything happening outside of the captain’s quarters, you push your hips back against Law, forcing him to go deeper, and his pace gets even sloppier. He grabs your hips, tight enough to leave a mark, and his cock twitches. Then it twitches again. And again. Law cums inside you, greedily holding your body as close as possible to his. He slows down as he comes down from his high, watching cum seep out of you with every thrust. He pulls out with a ‘pop’, and watches as the mixture of fluids leaks from your cunt. You tilt your hips, still hungry for his touch.

A low whisper breaks the silence: “I want you to ride me.” You sit up, propped on your knees as Law falls on his back next to you. His eyes and face were still red and desperate. ‘Did the effects not wear off?’ you wonder. But that wasn’t an issue. Not right now at least. In fact, you’d be fine if they didn’t wear off all night. This was truly a best-case scenario for you.

Law is stroking his still-hard cock, gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. You swing your leg over him and straddle him, hands exploring his muscular, tattooed chest. His hands fall on your waist, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Throwing the shirt to the side, his eyes stay locked on yours as his fingers creep around your body, unhooking the latch on your bra. You toss it to the side, adding to the pile of clothes. Law’s hips unintentionally buck under you when his warm hands find your exposed chest, grazing your hardened nipples. Your arms push your breasts together as you reach down, wrapping your hands around the base of Law’s swollen cock. He winces a bit, shifting his hips for more friction.

Seeing Law like this was mesmerizing. You spread the slickness up and down his shaft at a devastatingly slow pace, observing every reaction in awe. You savor every groan, every buck of his hips, every facial expression. If you kept this up, he would probably cum just like this.

“Shit…” he winces. “Need to- be inside you. FUCK” Law’s desperation quickly grows into aggression as he grabs his cock, lining himself up with you and pushing your hips down with full force. You let out a small yelp as you readjust to his size. He tries his best to lift and lower you, pushing you up and down his cock. A guttural groan escapes Law as he squeezes his eyes shut, writhing in pleasure. After you find your balance, you take the lead, grinding and bouncing to match his fast pace. His hands find their way back to your breasts, pinching and twirling your nipples. It was ecstasy. Your hips grind and twirl on him, chasing any sort of friction you can get.

“You look so perfect like this. Fuck…” Law groans once again, drinking in the sight of your naked body before rolling his head back in euphoria.

“And you’re such a dirty girl, helping me out like this. Bouncing on your captain so obediently, just to make him feel better.” His whole body tenses and he bucks his hips. “Just- want you- to feel good too.” Law lets out a loud groan.

Your breath falls heavy as you try not to unravel at his words. And how he looked right now. And how expertly his hands were teasing your nipples. And how his muscles flexed when he pushes himself deeper into you. Everything about this moment was blissful. Perfect, even.

And suddenly you can’t hold it in anymore. Your whole body tightens as your orgasm crashes through you. You let out a short cry as you ride it out. Law takes this opportunity to regain control, aggressively grabbing a hold of your hips and driving himself into you. Your mind is just dazed enough to let your body fall nearly limp, allowing Law to take full advantage of you. He pushes into you fast and hungrily. It’s intense and overstimulating, but you couldn’t care less. Not when you feel like this.

Before you knew it, Law pauses and the only thing you can feel is his cock twitching inside you as he cums, pulling himself in as deep as possible. You roll your hips on him as he writhes in pleasure.

“Fuck…” Law lets out a sigh of relief. He looks up at you, catching his breath as he comes down from his high. “I think I feel better.” He laughs, a little awkward now. You crawl off of him, wincing slightly at the empty feeling of his cock leaving your pussy. You lay down beside him, eyes meeting his while offering a smile of relief.

“Are you okay?” You whisper.

He returns the smile and gently brushes hair out of your face, “I’m okay. All thanks to you.” He leans in, kissing your forehead. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” his eyes fall to the red marks his tight grip left on your hips. His fingers delicately graze over them, sparking a tingling sensation.

“You didn’t hurt me. I knew what I was getting myself into. And I would do it all again if I had to.” You smile, but then guilt settles. “And… I’m sorry if I took advantage of you. It felt selfish offering to personally help you, when we didn’t even try any other solutions. I let my feelings get in the way of reason.” Law just stares at you, blankly.

“Feelings?” He asks.

“Yeah…” you reply, bashful. You never actually planned to confess these feelings to Law, but it was really now or never. “I’ve liked you for a while now. Romantically, sexually, whatever you want to call it. I’m sorry I’ve never said anything, and I understand if it makes things awkward from now on. I wouldn’t be offended if you just forgot I said anything.” Your face is burning as you confess your feelings, awaiting Law’s reaction. But to your surprise his face beams with relief.

“I like you too.” His smile was warm and comforting. “I like our quiet evenings together, hidden away in the office. I like the way we talk about your books and magazines, or whatever the hell I’m smoking that day. I like how you’re most relaxed, slumped in my chair, making small talk with me. It’s a side of you I don’t get to see often.” He laughs, also a little embarrassed, “When you offered to… help me out, I thought I was dreaming. Fuck, I thought I was going to explode when you were checking my throat. I caught a glimpse of your body, your perfect body, so close to mine. I was gonna make a fool of myself if I stayed there with you.”

You both giggle, enjoying the familiar lightheartedness of each other’s presence.

“So I can stay your trip sitter is what you’re implying?”

Sanji finds you in the place he sometimes does within the still hours of the late night- laid back on the bench beneath the aquarium, soundly sleeping in its soft glow. Usually, when he finds you like this he scoops you up like his own bride and carries you back to your room.

Occasionally, he’d find your bed still made up- telling him you hadn’t slept it in and it wasn’t where you came from before wandering out into the night. That always simmered his quiet anger, but he always tried not to let you feel the heat of it when he tucked you in.

He’s not certain that you’re aware he’s the one constantly bringing you back to bed. It’s not something you’ve ever spoken about. And he’s not the one you give those sweet sleepy smiles to over breakfast. In fact, he’s quite certain you think it’s the man you’re giving them to who does it for you. By the grins he gives back, Sanji doubts he’d even bother correcting you otherwise. Why would he? It’s in his best interest to let you believe he’s better than he actually is.

When Sanji found you sitting awake in the glow, he’d sit with you- quiet and present and hoping it wasn’t his own imagination the way you’d relax having him there. He asked you once why you came, and it rended through him the sad, distant look in your eyes as you told him that you found it comforting. Some nights when you just couldn’t sleep or some nights when you were feeling sad or lonely, you found this a peaceful place to be.

Sanji didn’t like it when you were sad. And he certainly didn’t like the idea of what could have made you sad or lonely in the middle of the night. Especially when you’d doze off and he’d carry you to bed- finding it, yet again, neatly undisturbed. It made him sick to his stomach and filled him with murderous heat.

Because Sanji knows where you were. Knows whose bed you lay in.

Knows whose bed you crawl out of sad and lonely because you’d rather sleep on the bench beneath the aquarium than stay there.

Sanji can’t fathom it. Can’t fathom the way Zoro pushes you to feeling this way. Can’t fathom why or how he does it, though he knows there’s no one and nothing else to blame. You were never like this before you presented your heart to Zoro.

Before he took it, along with your body.

You love him. Sanji knows you do. And though he’s loath to admit it, he’s pretty sure Zoro at least thinks he loves you too. But, Sanji can’t imagine a man truly loving a woman and then leaving her too often lost in her own sorrow.

Never once did Zoro ever appear during those nights he’d sit with you here. Never once did he get out of bed to find you. Sanji’s not even sure he bothered waking up. Laying there satisfied after doing god knows what to you, while you’re left ghosting the ship haunted by your own heart. Did he even care? Were there ever nights you laid there equally satisfied and content in body and soul next to him? Sanji doesn’t think so, but he does think he could kill Zoro every time he finds you here alone.

Alone, the way you are tonight. The way you’d be without Sanji- who’s sure you’d stay there until you woke up in the morning, but he wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t like the idea of how heartbroken and embarrassed you’d be waking there alone. He’d sooner you believe Zoro was the one tending to you before he let you suffer that.

“Oh, ma chérie,” he sighs, kneeling down next to your angelic body. Hair haloed around your head, lush body wrapped in a long drape of silk that’s pooled higher up the curve of your thigh, gentle breath rising and falling the sweet slopes of your breast. You are so divinely beautiful, it twists his heart just to look at you.

Tenderly, Sanji sweeps the hair off your face, letting his touch linger. “I would never do this to you,” his voice low and hushed, “you deserve so much more, mon cœur.” Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to your brow, whispering between them, “I’d take such good care of you.”

As if his words reached you, gently you stir a little, mouth parting, “Sanji,” his name passing your lips.

Everything within him soars hearing the sound of it- in this soft, private voice. “Would you like that?” he whispers, fingers tracing featherlight against your lips, “want to be mine instead?” You whimper a little and Sanji tells himself its a yes.

Softly, his fingers trail up your jaw and down your neck before ghosting over your chest, just above the beat of your sweet heart. Beneath his fingers, your skin pebbles for him and through the thin silk he finds the peaks of your breasts budding.

Immediately, Sanji’s body stirs at seeing the way you respond to him. He’d never been so bold as to touch you this intimately before, knowing how difficult it would be for him to stop. And how difficult it would be to explain to you why he was doing it. But, by the reaction of your body, you must enjoy it- at least subconsciously. And Sanji certainly enjoyed touching you.

When the pad of his finger touches at the stiffened peak of silk- you sigh in your sleep. It’s all the confirmation he needs to do it again- tiny little movements of his fingertip at your nipple, careful not to disturb- only pleasure. Back and forth and around he swirls his finger to the sensitive bud, light pressure through the soft silk. When one has had enough, he moves to the other.

It nips at the back of his mind that he shouldn’t be doing this. But, you need it. You need someone to take care of you- to make you feel good. Zoro was clearly failing, but not Sanji- Sanji wouldn’t ever fail to give you what you need. Still, he’s careful not to wake you. He doesn’t want this pleasure diluted with guilt or shame or fear.

Heat pools at the base of Sanji’s spine and his cock is growing hard in his loose pants. A hand drops down between his legs and his eyes roll back when he paws himself, one hand covering your soft breast-

He pulls his hand off his cock. No, he tells himself. This isn’t about him, it’s about you. He can’t be greedy.

Just then, your body shifts a little and Sanji watches the way your hips wiggle and your knees part. “There, ma chérie?” there’s no response, but his hand slowly drags down your silken body. Reaching the hem of your gown, he slowly pulls it up and unveils your sex.

Sanji stares down at your naked cunt- mouth watering and eyes wide. You’re not wearing any panties and the divine mound of your Venus looks so lush and inviting his cock thrashes, begging to take it. He clamps down on his own need as he carefully- so carefully- moves down your body.

Beside your hip now, he admires the curve rested on the bench, soothing his palm over the plush and fighting his urge to grip it in his hand. Tilting forward, his face hovers over your pussy and he bends so low his breath ruffles your soft hairs. With a steadiness that only comes from years of working with his hands, he places his fingers to the lip of your sex- and gently opens the flower of your body.

It glistens slightly from his ministrations and Sanji’s cock twitches proudly knowing it’s coaxed the nectar. Breathing deeply, greedy inhales of your scent pour through him and he nearly collapses- but doesn’t dare move away. Instead, he glides his finger through you, gathering a drop of your slick- bringing it up before his face. Rolling it between thumb and forefinger, his whole body shudders to imagine how he’d feel gliding through it. Pulling it apart, it strings long and sticky and Sanji’s mouth waters more.

Unable to help himself, he slips his fingers into his mouth, whimpering as the taste blooms across his tongue. He sucks and sucks, swirls and savors until its washed down his throat with his own pooling saliva. He wants more. He needs more. Your heady scent calls to him and he can’t stop himself as he tips forward and rests his tongue on your clit.

Unmoving, he just leave it there, letting the reality of what he’s doing simmer down his spine. Eyes flitting up your sleeping figure, he finds your face beginning to flush, brows slightly furrowed and lips sweetly parted. Easily, he rolls his tongue and a quiet whimper calls to him. Another little lick- and another- and one more, your breath starts to change.

Though he wants nothing more than to feast, he needs to be careful not to wake you. This isn’t about what he wants, afterall. It’s all about you. Despite the long hours he’s spent imagining himself between your legs, this is all to fulfill your needs- not his wishes.

So he tells himself.

Saliva pools down his tongue to the point, slicking his glide. Spit hot and pouring down your slit, Sanji feels your cunt twitch with the roll of it into your hole- mixing with your arousal. Without entering, his finger swirls around your entrance, feeling the squeeze at his tip. Rubbing his face downwards, he lets his tongue feel the flutter and there’s a hot squirt in his pants when he does.

So damn good, dining from the source. He laps you into his mouth, savoring and swallowing. Lashes fluttering, he struggles to keep his eyes on your sleeping face. You taste just as good as he knew you would. Because Sanji knows what he feeds you, knows how he’s sweetened you. All so he could feel that much closer to the fantasy, but this is beyond even what his mind could conjure. And it had conjured a lot.

Did Zoro even bother to savor this? Somehow Sanji can only picture him taking you the way he takes everything else- selfishly, brutishly, without much thought or service. That’s if he ever served you at all. By the way you’re fluttering on Sanji’s tongue, he could believe that he doesn’t. Could believe that this isn’t a pleasure your body knows as intimately as it should. As intimately as Sanji would familiarize it with. But, the notion that he’s the one providing you with something no one else has- or could- feeds his fire and frays at his self control.

Hips lightly thrusting, he humps his leaking cockhead against the base of the bench as he continues licking at your pussy. Gently, his finger rubs over the nub of your clit, coaxing more for him. A moan leaves you, but you still don’t wake. With a sigh, Sanji wonders what you must be dreaming about.

He hopes its him.

Maybe if he can fill your dreams with fantasies of him, they’ll leak out into your conscious mind. Maybe you’ll begin to desire him. Maybe you’ll begin to want him- the way he wants you. Maybe you’ll let him have you, maybe you’ll become his and maybe he’ll never have to suffer sharing you with anyone else ever again- when you were always meant to be his.

Losing himself to his own mind, another sound from you pulls him back. Without realizing it, Sanji’s increased his pressure and picked up his pace. He thinks he should reel it in- to not risk waking you, but your cunt squeezes and pulls his tongue deeper. Sanji’s eyes roll back as his face rests in your pussy, a steady thump-thump-thump of his humps against the wood.

Whimpering again, your breath picks up and your body begins to wiggle. The clench around his tongue tells him exactly what’s about to happen and his eyes heat with grateful tears. Face nodding against you, he encourages you to cum for him. Finger rolling at your clit and tongue curling inside- you do.

So does he.

Groaning a little, Sanji cums in his pants as you cum around his tongue. You clench him hard and he sucks every bit of it into his mouth- not wasting a drop. The flavor of you is indescribably incredible. The tears tip from his eyes, cock still spurting- his body weeping for you.

Sanji slows his movements in time with your easing orgasm. Lapping at your sex, he licks up every bit of the mess between your legs before covering your low body in gentle kisses. Though it takes all his effort, he pulls your gown back down, smoothing it over your hips.

Moving back towards your head again, he softly pushes back your hair with sucked-clean fingers. Rosy blush still blooms on your cheeks, but your breaths are evening back out. Bending low, he puts his lips to your ear and whispers his praise, “you taste so good, ma chérie. Cum so pretty on my tongue. You like it, don’t you. Like when I touch you, like when lick you between your legs…” Sanji fills your ears with his sweet, dirty words- willing them to fill your dreams. “I’ll take care of you, princess- always. Whenever you need it, you just let your prince take good care of you.”

A sweet, sleepy sound sighs from your lips. Sanji presses his own gently against the shell of your ear, “say my name, angel. Tell me who you’re dreaming about. Tell me who makes you feel good.”

Deep from dreams, you answer him, “Sanji…” and both his heart and his cock swell hearing it. If Sanji thought he could coax another orgasm from your body without waking you- he would have. If he thought he could slip his cock inside and fuck himself into your dreams without waking you- he would have. But, he knows better. And if he doesn’t want you to wake up now, he can’t risk it.

Especially if he hopes to do it again.

Gently, he pulls you into his arms and you turn instinctively into him- like you know exactly where you truly belong. Quietly, he carries you to your tidy bed and tucks you in with one last kiss between your eyes, letting his love seep deep into your dreams. With restraint he can only muster because he knows he’ll be rewarded for his patience, he leaves you sleeping soundly and returns to his own room.

Zoro’s on his knees in the sand, head swimming as it rights the world with uneasy balance. It’s a slow return to his body- his physical form struggling to reel in the stretched taffy of his senses. The only part of him still possessing any agency is his moving mouth as it repeats his one desperate prayer over and over again.

As he falls back into himself, it’s the blessed weight of you still wrapped around that anchors him there. When his eye cracks open, he squints in the face of the newly risen sun. Turning his head, he nuzzles into you and when he’s once again alive enough to feel the beat of your heart against his, he thanks whatever god will have him.

“Baby,” he breathes, “baby.” His hand soothes down your head as he gently pulls you back to look in your face. Eyes still closed, his fingers trace their lids, trailing your nose, and lacing your lips. “Wake up, baby.”

But, your lashes don’t flutter. He can barely feel the soft exhale of your breath and your lips don’t part beneath his touch. Despite the signal of his tender strokes, you don’t stir for him. Not a bit.

Zoro’s panic rolls in with the tide and his whole body is an open wound as the salt pours in. “C’mon, open your eyes.” His hand bobs the apple of your cheek, desperate to the core for the sweet dimple of its blush. With a firmer grip he takes your jaw, shaking like he might loosen a sigh or sound.

Though he feels the beat of your life, the light of your spirit sputters dangerously dim. The heart of you fades too far from him and there is nothing that could ever be right until he has you back. “I’m right here, it’s okay- I’m here.”

Fear that the world will forever be wrong pierces through him as he presses his forehead to yours. His fingers part your sleeping lips and his breath trembles to your mouth, willing his air to your lungs- willing his life to yours. “Wake up now, sweetheart.” Willing his heart to beat sturdy in your stead.

Yet, still, he suffers your stillness- condemned to your silence.

Zoro feels the very essence of your soul thinning in his hands, slipping smoke through his fingers and he begs the gods to grant him another mercy. “Please,” he supplicates himself before the force that fades you away, bargaining his own existence instead, “please.”

Claws rake over his skin, slicing without cutting- heating his blood until it burns through his veins. Thrashing, writhing, twisting- pleading for Zoro’s action. For the same sake he carries.

Face unmoving from the press of yours, Zoro spares one hand to pull Kitetsu from his sash and slip him between your bodies. A solid tether taught and rigid pinned between his heart and yours. A lightning rod for the love that exists inside himself striking out and charging through a blade the color of his own breaking heart- straight down into yours.

Kitetsu calls for you. He feels it- he hears it- as surely as he feels the rasp in his own throat and hears that same prayer repeated on his lips.

“Stay with me,” Zoro begs, lips lightly grazing over yours, “stay with me.”

In a swirling world of white and violet there is no up or down. No forwards or backwards. No left or right. Stuck in surreal reality, lost in the transition of a dream. Lucid, but not awake.

In your ears, your own steps clatter like tumbling river stones, your blood a rushing stream. Lungs crying, body burning, you feel the arduous yield of your movements- muscles roiling in the tensile tide of push and pull. Yet, nothing changes. No wind at your face, no break in the fog, no shadow of a scenery beyond it. For all that you know, you may not be going anywhere at all- despite feeling as if you’ve been a great too many places.

Still, you run. Everywhere and nowhere through this thin place that stretches between everything and nothing. Buoyant with every step, running on clouds of dreams despite the harsh sound of your heels- though that too, begins to soften. Stagnant and sticky, the fog thickens the air, too wide to pass easily through the narrowing pipe of your lungs- the discordant song of your breath reverberating from all sides.

“Zoro!” His name bounces back at you from every direction, faster and faster with every pass- rising in pitch until the fog itself calls out to him in a voice you no longer recognize. A sob sounds on your lips and the world gasps it back to you.

The great expanse of oblivion seeps through your pores and pours through your eyes- floods through your mouth, and runs through your nose. A sudden submergence that creeps inside and hollows you out. Shifting, morphing, gutting you into something fragmental and incomplete. All your vital pieces boiling down and rising like steam off your skin in delicate wisps of violet.

Reaching, you grasp at them. Desperately, clawing, clutching, fetching for the smoke of your stolen essence. But, they pass like ghosts through your fingers, giving you nothing to gather back.

It is then you notice the shade of your hands growing thin and transparent. Skin lightening and body ghosting as the void leeches away more and more of you into the fog. “No, no, no,” you cry and the begging passes through you back and forth.

“Zoro!” crying out for him, you cannot even catch your own tears as they fall straight through your fingers, disappearing before reaching the bright abyssal pool at your feet. Rapidly, you fade into nothing- lost to everything. “Please, please- find me,” and even your voice begins to thin, the echo of it growing weaker and distant.

Deep in the desolation, a prick of darkness blots like a mistaken drop of ink. Edges smearing across the fog, growing and spreading- crimson blurring at the edges. It cuts through the empty, untouched as it comes closer. Vision fading fast as anything, you can make out nothing but the vague shadow as it ribbons in the smoke. You brace to trade one oblivion for another as it comes closer and closer until-

It knocks into you.

Solid and firm and real. The force snaps back your evanescence and all at once you’re anchored to your body. The shadow wraps itself around and you are remade in its hold- reformed with all your pieces sorting into place, sealing up the cracks they seeped through.

Breaching the surface of the drowning deep, you breathe the crisp air- hear it rustle through the leaves and carry you back to somewhere more familiar. “You’re here…”

Ribbons of shadow bind you to your body and the fog fades to the soothing darkness of an autumn night.

Deep inside, you feel his voice more than you hear it.

“Stay with me.”

With a gasp, your eyes fly open, heart rapidly racing. “Zoro,” his name falls from your lips before the world even finishes coming back into focus. Pressed so close, your own breath steals through your lips with his gasp. “Zoro,” he is the first thing your senses know as they return to waking.

Throwing yourself around him, you hug him tight, letting the relief flood through your body at the feel of his solid form. “I got you,” he breathes, though he shudders a bit, locking his arms around you. “You’re okay,” so tight he might never let go again. Zoro gasps once more, finally allowing himself to breathe, his eye heating as he praises whichever god took his prayer to heart.

Reassuring yourself of his presence, your hands roam his body as you sink into him. Drawing down his back, gliding up his spine, threading through his hair. Turning your face to the crook of his neck, you take in his scent with nothing but the instinctual need for his nearness.

Even as your mind sharpens, something fades fast within- like a dream. Or a nightmare. The tremors of it still clinging at the edge of your fingertips, gnawing at the back of your mind. Zoro’s hand goes to the back of your head and the heat from his palm seeps in to melt away the fear. Tenderly, he strokes until you’re both soothed.

As your breath and your heart evens out, you feel the hard press between your bodies and pull back to find-

“Kitetsu…” Fingers reaching up to stroke the sword, you press your forehead against his sheath. Suddenly, you’re overcome with an immense sense of gratitude- and another feeling you’re not certain how to describe. There’s a tightness in your throat and you deepen the press against him- and Zoro. Simply wanting to feel them there- close and solid and real.

Zoro watches with a million emotions when you tilt up and press your lips against Kitetsu. The most prominent being his own overwhelming desire to feel the life of your kiss- to feel that love touch him directly. To give that love back to you. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? The thing that lives inside him for you. The thing that exists so strongly he couldn’t contain it and even that piece of his soul made manifest refused to exist without it.

He touches your face and turns you to him, searching your eyes for a reflection of his feelings. But, you just look at him as you always have. So soft and sweet and darling in the way that could convince him that he hung the moon himself. Zoro knows in that moment that he cannot exist in a world where you don’t look at him like that and he hopes beyond reason that it is the look of love. Quietly, he sits with it- feeling it, trying to understand it- wanting to know it.

The silence returns between you, but it is not the strained silence that existed between you this morning. It’s a silence of comfort, of acceptance- the silence of a sigh relieved to meet the day together again. The breeze itself whispers over your skin, draping comfortably warm across your back, and it is the sound of the ocean then that calls you.

“Zoro,” your voice hitches, tears stinging your eyes, “we’re back.”

Zoro rises with you in his arms, not yet ready to let go. One arm wraps around his neck, the other holding Kitetsu close. “Yeah,” he smiles up at you, watching the spark of life in your eyes, “we’re back.”

Carrying you, Zoro steps down the beach towards the water until the salty air starts to cling to your skin, purifying you from the memory of the swamp still lingering hazy like a dream in your mind.

As you both look out towards the horizon, the bell of your laughter rings his heart and the world is made brighter with your smile. His mouth tips up to match and you look down at him, fingers trailing his face. When Zoro turns into your touch, your lips part to tell him that-

Something solid knocks into you both so hard that Zoro staggers a little and the wind steals from your chest. There’s a flash of white at your side and rapidly, you’re being tied up in a snaking vice grip.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Luffy sobs, pulling you both into him as close as he can.

“Captain,” Zoro grunts, “a little tight.”

Your hand pets through Luffy’s hair, the white fading back to brown as his eyes glisten up at you with exaggerated tears. “Looks like you found us, Luffy.” Sniveling he nods, a firework shooting up from him before his fifth gear completely fizzles out. As best as you can wrapped up in the snake of his arms, you give him a hug, dropping your head down atop of his and smiling at Zoro, so happy to be back home.

Drawn by Luffy’s firework, the rest of the crew quickly arrive and you’re overcome with relief to see them all here- all safe. Only once they’ve surrounded you does Luffy untangle himself and you draw a deep breath through your compressed lungs. Zoro sets you down and you leave Kitetsu in his hands.

No sooner than you meet sand does Nami charge you, pulling you in close, “you really scared me,” the words waver in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” you hug her back.

Hands at you shoulders, she pulls back, “what happened? You were there and then you weren’t. We looked everywhere for you.”

“Yeah, what the hell, Mosshead!?” Sanji’s voice cracks louder through the air as he steps up to Zoro, hands shoving at his chest.

“Don’t push me- it wasn’t my fault!” Zoro barks back, his eye flitting up to watch Chopper in his larger point check you over. His hands tilt your face as he peers into your eyes, shining a little light into them. As he does Zoro notices that the mark he left on your neck, evidence of your night together- is gone.

Released from Chopper, you turn, “don’t blame him, Sanji- it wasn’t his fault.”

“Oh, ma chérie,” Sanji immediately whirls towards you, folding you in- an embrace that makes Zoro’s brow twitch as he watches you return it. “Are you alright?” Sanji pulls back and cups your face, “I was so worried, I’m so sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault either,” you assure him, knowing he’s probably been blaming himself since yesterday. Sanji’s thumbs smooth over your cheeks and you see the worry in his eyes he tries to wile away.

While Zoro knows, in his mind, that it’s nothing- everything else in him feels a little on edge watching Sanji touch you. However, as he's watching Sanji’s eyes roam your face and follow down the trail of your neck- he sees them snag on the place Zoro’s mark should still be. As if he can see- or feel- where it was. With a little furrow to his curled brow, Sanji drops his hands. “I’m really glad you’re okay,” he tells you with a low voice, soft and thickening.

Tenderly, you touch Sanji’s arm and give him one of your sweeter smiles and Zoro feels Kitetsu growl a little at the sight that’s not directed at him. Perhaps even more agitated after feeling- for the second time- the press of your kiss.

Though that thought also ignites Zoro a bit and he tries not to think about how his damn sword felt it before he did. As if that thought puts him in higher spirits, he feels Kitetsu’s energy tap at him annoyingly and he recognizes it for what it is. Gloating.

Zoro forces his memory down the tether between them of the way he had you in his hands at the inn- and Kitetsu sours. Zoro crosses his arms, feeling superior, though now he struggles to put the image out of his own mind.

Suddenly, you whirl towards Zoro, eyes wide and he snaps to attention, “Zoro,” your voice rises, “where’s Cy?” Zoro blinks and it takes a moment before the memory hits him again. He’s not sure exactly why it ever left, but looking around- he doesn’t see him.

In the distance you see the darkened sand of the estuary. Sprinting, you take off towards it- Zoro on your heels with the rest of the crew following. But, the river rolls quietly out to sea with no sign of your guide. “No boat…”

“Maybe he got out and took it.”

“What’s going on?” Luffy asks, tilting his head.

“We took a boat to get here,” you explain, “a guide from the village brought us.”

“A village?” Robin speaks up. “What village?”

“Uh, Insmit- I think,” you look up to Zoro.

He nods with confirmation, “yeah, real creepy place,” he mutters.

Robin steps closer, “Insmit Village,” she repeats, “are you sure?” her eyes flit between you and Zoro.

“Yeah…” You look towards Luffy then, who straightens feeling the weight of your gaze, “I think something bad is going on here. Men from the village, they’re… I think they’re hurting people.”

“Robin,” Luffy’s voice dips into that rare serious resonance as he looks to her for more information.

But Robin’s expression is trapped somewhere between awe and confusion. “Just to be clear- the two of you were at Insmit Village these past four days?”

“Four days?” the surprise rises in your voice.

Zoro shakes his head, “we’ve only been gone one…” he tries to deduce how long the night lasted on the boat, “uh, maybe two- days.”

“No, you guys have been gone for four days,” Nami confirms. “We scoured this whole island looking for you. Your vivre cards said you were still here, but they kept leading us in circles- we couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Feeling the rise of your anxiety, Zoro steps up closer and puts a hand to your back, “you’re sure?” he asks.

“We’re sure,” Sanji states. And now that you look- really look- at the state of your friends, you can see it. Exhaustion clings to them, shadows deep under their eyes- faces relieved, but weary.

“Robin…?” you look to her for the answers- or at least for the thoughts you see flitting through her mind.

“Tell us, Robin,” Luffy prods gently, but with the voice of a captain.

She takes your hands in hers and you try not to feel nervous as you watch her find her words. The whole crew quiets, waiting.

The Moby Dick was more than a ship: for you, it was the only home you had ever truly known. As one of the few women on the crew and the youngest member by a significant margin, except Ace that is, you had been adopted into the fold with a ferocity that was both heartwarming and slightly suffocating.

From the moment you stepped on deck, you became the collective little sister of the Whitebeard Pirates.

Pops doted on you with a booming laugh and a gentle hand on your head. Marco looked after you with a sleepy, protective eye. Thatch constantly tried to feed you delicacies from the galley, and Izou spent hours ensuring your wardrobe was as sharp and stylish as his own. You were the heart of the ship, the precious gem they all swore to protect.

But there was one person who looked at you differently.

Portgas D. Ace.

For months, the two of you had been locked in a dance of agonizing tension. It was a clumsy, electric lingo of lingering glances, accidental brushes of shoulders, and conversations that trailed off into heavy silences. Everyone saw it. The entire crew saw it. Whitebeard would often chuckle into his massive sake cup, watching the two of you stumble through a simple conversation, while Marco would sigh, wondering when the idiot Second Commander would finally grow a pair and make a move.

Then, finally, it happened. A moonlit night on the upper deck, a shared bottle of something strong, and a confession that had been bubbling over for half a year.

You were finally, officially together.

However, “together” was currently a very relative term. While the emotional bond was searingly hot, the physical side of things was… Well, at a complete standstill.

You were both shy in your own ways, and Ace, despite his reputation as a bold, fire-wielding powerhouse, was surprisingly hesitant. He treated you like you were made of the finest porcelain, terrified that if he pushed too hard or too fast, he might break the spell.

Of course, this hesitation didn’t stop his imagination.

Ace was twenty years old, brimming with testosterone and hopelessly in love. Every single night, while you slept soundly in your quarters, Ace was in his own bunk, tossing and turning. He spent hours just staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying the way your laugh sounded or the way your skin felt when you held his hand. He spent a great deal of time with his hand wrapped firmly around his dick, groaning your name into his pillow, struggling through the solitary release because the reality of you was so much more intoxicating than any fantasy. He was a virgin, a fact he guarded with a fierce, embarrassed pride, but his libido was currently at a breaking point. He wanted you - deeply, desperately - but he had absolutely no idea what he was actually doing.

The afternoon sun was beating down on the Moby Dick, leaving the crew drenched in sweat and grime. As per tradition, the men headed to the massive communal baths to scrub off the dirt from the day and relax. The bathhouse was filled with the boisterous shouting of dozens of pirates splashing around in the hot springs.

Ace sat submerged up to his chest in the steaming water, his eyes closed, leaning his head back against the smooth stone. Even here, in the company of his brothers, his mind was drifting. He was thinking about the way your dress had hugged your curves this morning, and the way you had winked at him before heading to help the nurses. He felt a familiar, insistent throb in his groin, and he cursed silently, sinking deeper into the water to hide the evidence of his distraction.

Nearby, Thatch, Marco, Vista, Jozu and Haruta were lounging in a larger pool, the conversation flowing as freely as the sake they had bought along. As was common in the baths, the talk had eventually shifted toward the… romantic exploits of the crew.

“I’m telling you,” Thatch bragged, gesturing wildly with a soapy hand, “the girl in the last port had a passion for the culinary arts that matched my own. The way she looked at me while I was describing the perfect reduction sauce… it was practically foreplay. By the time we got to the room, we didn’t even make it to the bed.”

Vista chuckled, twirling a lock of his mustache. “Ah, Thatch, you always lead with the stomach. For me, it is all about the grace of it. The anticipation is where the true pleasure lies.”

Marco let out a lazy hum, his eyes half-closed. “You’re both too loud, yoi. The best way is just to be attentive. Listen to what she wants, follow the lead, and you’ll do just fine. No need to make it complicated.”

Ace listened to them, his brow furrowed. He felt a surge of inadequacy. He loved you more than life itself, and he wanted to make you feel everything they were talking about, but as he listened to their elaborate terminology he realized there was a massive gap in his knowledge. He knew the basics, of course, but the actual mechanics of pleasing a woman were a mystery to him.

He looked at his brothers - men who were older and seemed so confident, so experienced. He trusted them. And more importantly, he was currently suffering from a level of horniness that made his brain malfunction. And so he did something he would 100% come to regret later on.

“Hey,” Ace blurted out, his voice cutting through the laughter.

The group fell silent, looking over at him. Ace rubbed the back of his neck, his face already beginning to tint pink. “I… uh… how do you actually please a woman?”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Thatch froze mid-gesture. Marco actually opened one eye. Even Vista’s mustache stopped twitching. They all stared at Ace, the realization hitting them like a cannonball to the chest.

“... Wait,” Thatch whispered, his eyes widening. “Ace… are you telling me you’ve never…?”

“Never what?!” Ace snapped, his temper flaring as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

“You’re a virgin!” Haruta shrieked, splashing water everywhere in his excitement. “Our 2nd commander is a total novice! A blank slate! A babe in the woods!”

“Shut up!” Ace yelled, his skin starting to smoke as his Devil Fruit reacted to his embarrassment. “I just… I want to do it right! Y/N is… she’s special! I don’t want to mess it up!”

The tone of the room shifted instantly. The mockery vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense sense of brotherhood. These were his brothers, and the mission had now become clear: Ace needed a crash course in the art of intimacy. Mainly so that he wouldn’t hurt you, their only little sister.

“My god,” Marco sighed, though there was a smirk on his face. “We’ve been letting you wander around like a lost puppy. Sit down, Ace. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but we’re having a meeting.”

The commanders closed in around him, forming a tight, steaming circle. Ace looked like he wanted to melt into the floor, but he stayed, his curiosity and desperation ultimately outweighing his shame.

“Alright, listen up, kid,” Thatch began, his voice taking on the tone of a master chief explaining a complex recipe. “First rule: the main event is not the goal. The goal is the journey. If you just dive straight in, you’re like a guy who serves the dessert before the appetizer. It’s a crime! Scandalous even! You have to start with the build-up. Kissing, obviously, but don’t just stay on the lips. The neck is a goldmine, Ace. The collarbone. The soft spot behind the ear. You tease and you make her ache for it.”

Ace swallowed hard, his imagination immediately firing off images of you arching your back as he kissed your neck. He let out a small, strangled noise.

“Exactly,” Vista added, nodding approvingly. “The psychological element is key. Tell her how beautiful she is. Tell her exactly what you want to do to her before you actually do it. The anticipation builds the tension, and when the tension finally snaps, the pleasure is ten times more intense. You can trust us old folks on that.”

“Now, let’s talk about the… logistics,” Marco said, his voice practical. “The clitoris, Ace. Pay attention. For most women, that’s the center of the universe. If you just focus on the penetration, you’re missing the party. Use your fingers, use your tongue - be gentle at first, then increase the pressure based on how she reacts. If she starts breathing heavily and gripping the sheets, you’re on the right track, yoi.”

Ace was staring at them with wide, dinner-plate eyes, his face a deep shade of crimson. “The… the tongue?”

“Yes, the tongue!” Thatch exclaimed. “It’s called oral, you idiot! You spend time down there. You treat it like a delicacy. You taste her, you explore, you make her come before you even think about putting your dick in. That’s how you become a legend in the bedroom.”

Jozu, who had been mostly silent, grunted in agreement. “And don’t rush the entry. Slow and steady. Make sure she’s wet - and if she’s not, use your hands and mouth until she is. Forcing it is a one-way ticket to a slap in the face.”

“What about… positions?” Ace asked in a small, hesitant voice.

The brothers shared a look and grinned. This was the part they had been truly waiting for.

“Right! Positions!” Thatch stood up, using his arms to demonstrate. “You’ve got your classic Missionary - good for intimacy, looking into her eyes and kissing her, you get the gist. But if you want something with more… impact… you go for Doggy Style. You get behind her, grip those hips, and really lean into it. It allows for deeper penetration, and let me tell you, the view from back there is a masterpiece.”

“Don’t forget the Cowgirl;” Izou chimed in, having joined the conversation. Ace didn’t even see nor hear him coming, that’s how immersed he was. “Let her be on top. It gives her control over the depth and the speed, and you get to watch everything. There is nothing more erotic than seeing a woman take exactly what she wants from you.”

“And if you’re feeling adventurous,” Vista added with a wink, “try the legs-on-shoulders approach. It changes the angle, hits different spots, and lets you see every single expression on her face.”

Ace felt like his brain was melting. He was visualizing all of this - you on top of him, you arched over the bed, the feeling of your skin against his - and he was becoming painfully, visibly erect. The water around him was practically simmering.

“And for the love of Pops, Ace,” Marco warned, “don’t just go full speed from start to finish. Change the pace. Slow it down, speed it up. Tease her. Pull back just when she thinks you’re about to finish. Drive her crazy.

“I… I think I get it,” Ace gasped, feeling completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. He felt a mixture of terror and an almost uncontrollable urge to sprint out of the bathhouse and find you immediately.

“One more thing,” Thatch said, his expression becoming suddenly serious. “Communication. If she tells you something feels good, do more of that. If she just so much as winces, stop. The best lovers are the ones who listen the best.”

Ace nodded fervently, his heart hammering against his ribs. He felt like he had just survived a battle with a Yonko, but instead of a scar, he had a mental blueprint for the most intense night of his life. He couldn’t take it anymore; the tension in his body was too much, and the mental images were too vivid.

“I’m out! I’m leaving!” Ace yelled, suddenly standing up and splashing water everywhere. He didn’t even bother with a towel, grabbing his clothes in a blur of motion and sprinting toward the exit, his face glowing red like a flare.

As he scrambled through the doorway, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape the suffocating atmosphere of “brotherly advice”, a loud, booming voice echoed through the bathhouse.

“And Ace!” Thatch screamed after him, cupping his hands around his mouth. “You and Y/N don’t forget to use protection, okay?!”

The sound of Ace’s humiliated shriek echoed all the way down the hall as he vanished, leaving the commanders laughing hysterically in the steam.

Remember when you had told Ace you had to go and help the nurses? Yeah, you hadn’t actually been asked to help them. In fact, you’d practically forced your way in, offering your services as an “assistant” with a desperation that had raised a few eyebrows. But you weren’t there to fold bandages or organize tinctures. You were there because you were in a state of an absolute, agonizing crisis.

You were eighteen, hopelessly in love, and currently vibrating with a level of sexual frustration that felt like it might actually cause you to spontaneously combust.

The problem was your boyfriend.

Ace was, by every objective standard, a masterpiece of a man. He was twenty, brimming with a magnetic energy that seemed to pull everyone toward him. And then there were his… well, physical assets. The golden-tan skin, the dusting of freckles across his nose, and the fact that he spent approximately 99% of his waking life shirtless. You had spent months memorizing the ripple of his abdominal, the breadth of his shoulders, and the way his chest heaved when he laughed.

You wanted him. You wanted him with an intensity that terrified you. But you were shy - painfully so - and Ace, despite his reputation, was treating you like you were made of sugar. He kissed you sweetly; he held your hand with a tenderness that made your heart ache; he looked at you with such pure and unadulterated devotion that you felt like the center of his universe.

But he didn’t move.

As frustrated as you were, you had even gone so far as to sneak into a boutique at the last port, spending a small fortune on a set of lingerie. It was a deep, sultry crimson that you were certain would make his brain short-circuit, but it currently sat untouched in your chest, because every time you thought about putting it on, your face heated up and you imagined him looking at you with those wide, innocent eyes and you simply lost your nerve.

“Alright, sweetheart, enough with the daydreaming. If you’re going to “help” us, you might as well be honest about why you’re really here,” a voice called out.

You jumped, nearly knocking over a tray of saline solution or whatever they had called it. Nurse Hana, a woman in her thirties with a sharp gaze and a knowing smirk, was leaning against a cabinet, arms crossed. Beside her, Nurse Mimi, who was younger and significantly more mischievous, was giggling behind her hand.

You felt the heat crawl up your neck. “I… I just thought…”

“You’re thinking about our dear second commander,” Mimi chirped, stepping closer. “We got you figured out, sweetie. We’ve seen the way you look at him. And we’ve seen the way he looks at you. “It’s like watching two magnets that are too scared to actually click together. It’s exhausting for the rest of us, really.”

You slumped against the table, defeated. “Is it that obvious?”

“Honey, the entire crew is betting on when you two will finally stop just flirting and actually get laid,” Hana said bluntly.

You gasped, your face turning a shade of red that rivaled the lingerie you were currently wearing.

“I- we- it’s not like that!”

“Oh, please,” Mimi laughed, pulling you towards a cluster of chairs in the back of the ward where they were taking their break. “Sit. Tell us everything. What’s the hold-up? Is he not interested? Is he… lacking in the equipment department?”

“No!” You whispered urgently. “He’s perfect! He’s more than perfect! He’s just… he’s so gentle. I don’t know how to make him realize that I want him to stop being gentle. I don’t know how to start it without it being weird!”

The two nurses exchanged a look. A predatory one.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Hana sighed, though her eyes were twinkling. “You’re trying to wait for the man to lead, but Ace is a dork. A hot, muscular, oblivious dork. Men like that often need a very clear map to their destination. They’re terrified of overstepping, especially when they’re as smitten as he is.”

“So… what do I do?” you asked, your voice small.

Mimi leaned in, her expression becoming intensely focused. She clearly enjoyed this. “First of all, we need to talk about the visual. Do you have anything… provocative? Something that says ‘I am not a doll, I am a woman who wants you to take her’?”

You hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I have… some lace. Red.”

“Are you wearing it right now?”

“... Maybe.”

Mimi let out a triumphant shriek. “Perfect! Absolute gold! Listen to me: you tease him with it. You let him see a strap. You let him catch a glimpse of a thigh. Until he finally crumbles.”

For the next hour, the infirmary became a classroom of a very different sort than the one Ace was currently attending in the baths. While the commanders were giving Ace a technical manual on the mechanics of pleasure, the nurses were giving you a masterclass in the art of seduction.

And they were explicit.

“Don’t just wait for him to kiss you,” Hana instructed, gesturing with her hands. “Take the lead. Grab him by the back of the neck - he loves that, trust me, men with those shoulders have a weakness for being pulled in. Bite his lower lip. Just a little bit. It signals that you’re demanding his affection, not just accepting it.”

You felt dizzy just listening to her. “B-bite him?”

“Yes, bite him!” Mimi added enthusiastically. “And once you get him in the bedroom, don’t just lie there. Use your body. Rub yourself against him. Let him feel how much you want him through your clothes first. The friction is what drives him crazy, trust me. And for the love of God, use your hands. Explore him. He’s shirtless all day, right? Use that. Trace the lines of his muscles, linger on his chest, move down… slowly… until he’s practically begging you.”

“But what if I don’t know what to do… down there?” you whispered, your heart hammering.

Hana leaned back, her expression softening but remaining frank. “Listen, the first time is always a bit of a mess. He’s probably just as nervous as you are. The secret isn’t perfection, so don’t overthink what you should do for now; it’s enthusiasm. If you’re making noise, if you’re arching your back, if you’re telling him exactly how good he feels, he’ll feed off that. Guide him. If he goes somewhere you don’t like, move his hand. If he hits a spot that makes your toes curl, moan. Loudly. Men are simple creatures, they just want to know they’re winning.”

Mimi winked at you. “And remember: the more you treat it like a delicious secret you’re sharing, the more he’ll lose his mind. Seduction isn’t about the build-up. Make him ache for it. Make him feel like he’s starving and you’re the only feast in the world able to satisfy him.”

By the time you left the infirmary, your head was spinning. You felt like you had been given a secret weapon, but the weight of actually using it felt monumental. You walked back toward your quarters, your legs feeling a bit like jelly, the nurses’ voices echoing in your mind: Bite his lip. Use your hands. Make him ache.

As you reached your door, you saw a flash of orange and black.

Ace was standing there, leaning against the railing, looking like he had just stepped out of a storm. His hair was still damp, clinging to his forehead, and he was wearing his usual trousers, his chest bare and glistening slightly in the fading light.

He looked… different. He looked wired.

There was a strange, frantic energy in his eyes, a mixture of sheer terror and an almost violent level of horniness, that you had never seen in him before.

“Hey,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat, his face flushing a deep crimson. “Hey, Y/N.”

You stopped, your breath catching. You looked at his broad shoulders, the way the muscles of his chest flexed as he breathed, and suddenly, all you could think was: He’s a feast.

“Hi, Ace,” you replied, your voice sounding breathier than you intended.

He shifted his weight, looking everywhere but at you. “I… uh… the baths were… really educational. I mean! Not that I learned anything! I just… the guys were talking. About… stuff.”

You blinked. Educational? A sudden, suspicious thought crossed your mind. Had Ace been talking to the other commanders? Had he received his own version of the “crash course”?

The realization of that possibility sent a jolt of electricity through you. If he was just as desperate and “educated” as you were, then the tension between you was now stretched to the breaking point.

“Is that so?” you asked, taking a daring step closer.

Ace jumped slightly, his eyes finally snapping to yours. The look in them was searing. He looked like he wanted to devour you and apologize for it at the same time. “Yeah. I mean, I just… I really love you, Y/N. And I want… I want to be good for you. I want to make sure everything is… perfect.”

The “perfect” comment hit you right in the heart, but it also gave you the opening you needed. You remembered Hana’s words: Don’t wait for the man to lead.

You reached out, your hands trembling slightly, and pressed your palm flat against his chest. His skin was scorching - literally. He let out a sharp, strangled gasp, his entire body stiffening at the contact.

“Ace,” you whispered, sliding your hand upward, tracing the line of his pectoral muscle up toward his collarbone. “I don’t want perfect.”

Ace’s pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black. He looked like he had forgotten how to breathe. “You… you don’t?”

“No,” you murmured, stepping into his space until your chest was brushing against his. You could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. “I just want you.”

Ace made a sound - a low, needy whimper that sent heat straight to your core. He instinctively reached out to wrap his arms around you, but he hesitated, his hands hovering an inch from your waist, still terrified of breaking you.

You didn’t let him hesitate. You reached up, grabbed the back of his neck - just like Hana said - and pulled him down.

What followed wasn’t a sweet kiss. It wasn’t the tentative, tasting-the-water kind of kiss you were used to. You slammed your lips against his with a hunger that surprised even you, and as you did, you caught his lower lip between your teeth and gave it a sharp, experimental nip.

Ace practically exploded.

A muffled sound escaped his throat, and his arms now fully slammed around you, hosting you off your feet and pinning you against the wooden wall of the corridor with a thud that probably woke up half the ship. He kissed you back with a desperation that was almost violent, his tongue seeking yours with a clumsy, frantic energy.

He was shaking. God, he was actually shaking in your arms.

“Y/N,” he gasped, breaking the kiss for a split second to press his forehead against yours. His breath was hot, his voice a ragged wreck. “I don’t… I’ve never… I don’t know if I’m doing this right!”

You laughed, a small, breathless sound, and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Neither do I, Ace. Just… just keep going.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He carried you into your room, kicking the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

The moment you hit the bed, Ace was a whirlwind of passion and total incompetence. He tried to be the suave, confident lover the commanders had described, but his nerves were shot. He went to pull your shirt over your head, but he got caught on your arm, nearly pulling you off the bed in the process.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” he yelped, his face turning bright red. “I just- I wanted to be smooth! Thatch said the build-up is everything, and I’m like really trying to build it, but I’m just-”

You giggled, pulling him back down by his collar. “Ace, stop listening to Thatch. Just look at me.”

He stopped, his gaze falling on you. The heat in his eyes returned, that raw, hungry intensity that made your stomach flip. He leaned down, kissing your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, his movements becoming more confident as he stopped listening to his spiraling thoughts and started following the instincts of a man who had been starving for months.

Then, he felt it. The lace.

As he shifted his weight, his hand brushed against the edge of the crimson lingerie you were wearing beneath your clothes. He froze, his hands pausing on your hip. “What… is this?” he whispered, his voice sounding like it had been dragged through gravel.

“A surprise,” you whispered back, reaching down to slowly slide the fabric of your shirt where he had previously failed upward, revealing the intricate, daring red lace that hugged your curves.

Ace stared. Actually, he didn’t just stare; he looked like he had seen a vision of the gods. His jaw actually dropped, and for a moment, he looked completely paralyzed.

“You… you’re wearing… that’s… you look…” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “I think my brain just melted. Y/N, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

The sincerity in his voice was so overwhelming that it almost broke the mood, but then he groaned, a deep, guttural sound of pure longing, and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I can’t… I can’t take it anymore,” he whimpered. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

You felt a surge of confidence, remembering the nurses’ advice. You reached down, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his trousers, and you felt him jump, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.

“Is this okay?” you whispered.

“Yes,” he gasped, his eyes wide and blown out. “Yes, please, anything, just… don’t stop.”

The next few minutes were a chaotic mix of tension and absolute clumsiness. Ace tried to implement the “slow and steady” approach Marco had suggested, but every time your skin touched his, he seemed to forget how to function. He tried to kiss your neck while simultaneously trying to remove his trousers, resulting in him accidentally rolling off the side of the bed with a loud thump.

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach.

Ace popped his head up from the floor, his hair a disaster, his face flushed, looking like a giant, albeit horny golden retriever.

“I’m okay! I’m fine! I just… the angle was off!”

You reached down, grabbing his hand and pulling him back up. “You’re a dork, Ace.”

“Your dork,” he countered, lunging back onto the bed and pinning you beneath him. Now, the laughter faded, replaced by a heavy, seething heat. The air in the room felt thick, charged with the scent of the sea outside, fire, and an unbearable amount of anticipation.

Ace hovered over you, his muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself back. He looked at you - really looked at you - and the clumsiness vanished, replaced by a tenderness that was almost spiritual. He traced the line of your lip with his thumb, his expression one of pure awe.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I’m so nervous, Y/N. I really want this to be perfect for you.”

“It already is,” you replied, pulling his head down for another kiss.

As he began to explore your body, his hands shaking but his touch becoming more sure, you felt the world outside the room disappear. There was no Moby Dick, no Pops, none of your brothers - just the heat of his skin against yours and the rhythmic thud of two hearts beating in sync.

He moved down, his kisses trailing over your stomach, his breath hot against your skin. He remembered what Marco had mentioned, and you could tell he was thinking hard about it. He paused, his head tilting as he tried to remember exactly where the “center of the universe” was.

You let out a soft, encouraging moan, arching your back and guiding him with your hips. You had gotten rid of your shorts and underwear a long time ago.

“Right. There. Yes,” he whispered to himself, sounding like a student taking a final exam.

When he finally made contact with his tongue, you let out a sharp, loud cry, your fingers digging into his shoulders. The sensation was electric, a sudden explosion of pleasure that made your vision blur.

Ace froze, his eyes snapping up to yours, wide with panic. “Did I hurt you?! Did I do it wrong?! Oh god, I’m sorry, I-”

“No!” you gasped, pulling him back down. “No, Ace… it’s perfect. Don’t stop. Please, please, please.”

He let out a long, shuddering breath, a look of intense relief washing over him. He sank back into you with his tongue, his movements becoming more fluid and instinctive. The “education” from his brothers was still there in the back of his mind, but as the heat rose, only the raw, honest desire of two people who loved each other far more than they knew how to handle was left.

The tension eventually reached a fever pitch. Ace was hovering over you, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto yours with a searing intensity that made you feel like you were melting into the sheets. He was a mess of freckles, sweat, and unbridled passion.

“I’m going to…” he started, his voice breaking. “I can’t… Y/N, I can’t hold it…”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down so there was no space left between you, your heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.

“Then don’t hold it,” you whispered. “Just give it to me.”

The tension had reached a point where it was no longer sustainable. With a ragged groan, Ace shifted, his movement hurried yet cautious, as he finally managed to rid himself of the last of his clothing.

For a moment, you simply froze.

You had spent months imagining him, memorizing every single visible inch of his shirtless torso, but you were entirely unprepared for the sight of him fully exposed. As he settled down between your thighs, the moonlight filtering through the porthole illuminated him, and your breath hitched in your threat.

He was magnificent.

You had never seen a man like this before - not really. You had heard the nurses talk, and you had caught glimpses of the crew in the baths, but this was different. This was Ace. He was thick and heavy, his length impressive and pulsing with a life of its own. He was already leaking, a small, glistening bead of pre-cum crowning the head of his cock, shimmering in the dim light. He looked desperate, his vein-mapped length twitching with every erratic beat of his heart.

You felt a wave of intense, dizzying curiosity wash over you. Your eyes widened, tracing the curve and the sheer size of him. He looked so powerful, yet as he looked down at you, his expression was one of complete, vulnerable surrender. He was trembling, his chest heaving, looking as though he might actually combust if you didn’t touch him soon.

“Y/N,” he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, sounding completely wrecked. “I…I’m sorry if it’s… too much. I don’t know if I’m… normal.”

The slight insecurity in his voice, despite the imposing sight of him, made your heart swell. You reached out, your fingers hovering just an inch from his skin.

You could feel the heat off him, a literal warmth that made your fingertips tingle.

“Can I…?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Can I touch you, Ace?”

He let out a half-sob, half-groan, his eyes closing tight. “Yes,” he choked out, “God, yes. Please.”

As your fingers finally made contact, Ace let out a sharp, strangled gasp. His skin was scorching, smoother than you expected, and incredibly sensitive. You started slowly, your hand wrapping around the base of him. You were surprised by how your hand couldn’t even fully close around the girth of him; he filled your palm and then some.

You felt him jump under your touch, a violent shiver racking his entire frame. You began to move your hand, a tentative, sliding motion upward to the crown. The feeling of the slick moisture between your skin and his made a small, needy sound escape your lips.

“Oh god,” Ace whimpered, his head falling back against the pillows. “Y/N… you’re… you’re actually doing it. You’re touching me. This… holy shit.”

You gained confidence, remembering the nurses’ advice about enthusiasm. You tightened your grip slightly and increased the pace, sliding your hand up and down the length of him. The friction was intoxicating. You watched him, captivated by the way his abdominal muscles rippled and clenched with every stroke.

Ace began to make sounds you had never heard of him - high-pitched moans and frequent whines that vibrated through the mattress. He gripped the sheets beside your head, his knuckles white, his hips beginning to stutter-step upward, instinctively seeking more pressure.

“Right there… just like that,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t stop… don’t ever stop.”

You shifted your body, rubbing your thigh against his hip, wanting to feel as much of him as possible. You started to move faster, your palm slick with his arousal, the sound of the wet filling the quiet room. Ace was practically sobbing now, his breath coming in short, jagged bursts. He looked absolutely desperate, his eyes blown wide and glazed with a level of pleasure that seemed to be bordering on pain.

Driven by a sudden, daring impulse, you decided to try something more. You slid down the bed, your hair spilling over his thighs, and looked up at him.

Ace looked down at you, his face a mask of pure shock. “What are you… Y/N?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned forward and opened your mouth, tentatively taking the head of his cock inside.

The sensation was overwhelming for both of you. The taste of him was salty and warm, and the feeling of him filling your mouth was an intimacy that felt almost sacred. You swirled your tongue around the tip, mimicking the movements you’d imagined doing countless times already.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Ace let out a scream - a loud, shocked sound that was cut off as his entire body went rigid. He didn’t even have time to move his hips; the mere sensation of your mouth, the warmth and the wetness, was the final straw for his overstimulated nerves.

He bucked upward, his hands flying to your shoulders to steady himself, and then he exploded.

You felt the hot pulses of his release hitting the back of your throat, a sudden flood of heat that left you breathless. He came with a violence that surprised you, his body shaking with powerful, uncontrollable spasms as he emptied himself into you.

He groaned your name over and over, until he finally collapsed back into the bed, completely spent.

Silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of your synchronized, heavy breathing.

You slowly pulled away, licking your lips, and looked up at him. Ace was staring at the ceiling, his chest still heaving, his face a shade of red that rivaled his necklace. He looked utterly devastated.

“I… I did it,” he whispered, his voice sounding hollow. “I actually… I lasted about three seconds.”

He covered his face with his hands, a muffled groan of pure embarrassment escaping him. “I’m such an idiot. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted to be a legend in the bedroom like Thatch said, and I just… I just blew it immediately.”

You felt a wave of tenderness wash over you. You crawled back up his body, pressing your chest against his, and kissed his cheek softly.

“Ace, look at me,” you murmured.

He peeked through his fingers, his eyes wide and sheepish.

“It was perfect,” you whispered, smiling. “You were so… intense. And I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way you do. Who cares about being a legend? I just want you. You’re allowed to not immediately get everything right during your first time.”

Ace let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension leaving his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest, burying his face in your neck. “You’re too good to me, Y/N.” I don’t deserve you.”

“Hush,” you giggled, rubbing his back.

As you lay there, you felt a familiar, aching throb between your own legs. Ace had found his release, but you were still vibrating, your body humming with a need that hadn’t been satisfied from his earlier try.

You shifted slightly, rubbing your center against his thigh, and let out a small, involuntary moan.

Ace stiffened, his senses returning. He pulled back slightly, looking at your flushed face and the way your eyes were clouded with desire. He looked down at your lower half, then back at you, a look of realization dawning on his face.

“You’re… you’re still…”

“I am,” you whispered, your voice sounding small and needy. “Ace… I’ve never… I’ve never had an orgasm. I don’t know how it feels.”

The embarrassment vanished from Ace’s face, replaced by a fierce intensity. He might have been a novice, but the love he felt for you was a powerful motivator.

“I’m going to give it to you,” he vowed, his voice returning to that low tone that made your toes curl. “I don’t care if I’m a dork. I’m going to make you feel everything and do it right this time.”

He moved with a new kind of purpose. He shifted his body, gently pushing you back onto the pillows and sliding down between your legs. You gasped as he parted your thighs again, his eyes admiring you with a reverence that made you feel like a goddess.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath hot against your inner thigh.

He started with his mouth once again, kissing the soft skin of your legs, moving higher and higher. You trembled, your fingers digging into the sheets as he approached the center of your heat. When his tongue finally made contact with your clitoris, you let out a sharp, loud cry, your hips arching off the bed.

“Is this… is this still right? Like before?” he asked, glancing up at you, his lips glistening.

“Yes!” you gasped. “Oh god, yes, right there!”

Ace didn’t need further instruction. He dove back in, his tongue working with a rhythmic intensity that made you see stars. He was applying the lessons from the baths perfectly after a little but of fooling around. You were a mess already, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Then, he added his fingers.

He slid two fingers inside you, the friction of his movement complementing the stimulation of his tongue. You felt full, stretched, and utterly consumed by him.

You began to moan loudly, the sound echoing in the small room, your head tossing from side to side.

“That’s it, Y/N… just let go,” Ace murmured against your skin, his voice encouraging. “Tell me what you need.”

“More… please, Ace, more!” you cried out, your voice breaking.

He increased the pressure, his fingers curling upward, hitting a spot that sent a jolt of pure electricity through your entire spine. You felt a tension building deep within you, a coil tightening tighter and tighter until it felt like you were about to snap.

The world blurred. The sounds of the ship faded. There was only the heat of Ace’s mouth and the rhythmic drive of his hand.

Suddenly, the coil snapped.

A wave of intense, crashing pleasure slammed into you, starting at your core and radiating outward to the tips of your fingers. You screamed his name, your body shaking in a violent, prolonged orgasm that felt like a thousand suns exploding behind your eyelids. You gripped his hair, pulling him closer as you rode the wave of pleasure, your breath hitching in a series of sobbing gasps.

As the intensity slowly faded, you collapsed back into the mattress, completely limp and glowing.

Ace pulled back, looking up at you with a triumphant, beaming smile. He looked proud and his eyes were shining with affection.

“Did I… did I do it?” he asked breathlessly.

You couldn’t even speak for a moment.

You just reached down and pulled him up, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him with everything you had.

“You did it, Ace,” you whispered against his lips that tasted like your juices. “You did it perfectly.”

He let out a contended sigh, rolling over to pull you into the crook of his arm.

You lay entwined in Ace’s arms, your breath finally beginning to level out, your skin humming with a glow that had nothing to do with the dim moonlight filtering through the porthole. For a few minutes, the world was nothing but the steady, thumping rhythm of Ace’s heart against your ear and the soft, contented sighs he let out into your hair.

But as the initial haze of the orgasm receded, a new kind of tension began to coil in the pit of your stomach. You were satisfied, yes, but there was still a lingering, hollow ache. The “main event” was still looming, a mountain neither of you had ever climbed, and the anticipation was starting to feel like a physical weight.

Ace seemed to be feeling it too. You could tell by the way his grip on you tightened slightly, his fingers tracing mindlessly, shaky patterns across your lower back. He was quiet, but his body was radiating a heat that was bordering on feverish.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his voice still a ragged, low wreck.

“Yeah?” you murmured, tilting your head back to look at him.

He looked completely undone. His freckles seemed to stand out more against his flushed skin, and his eyes were wide, searching your face with a mixture of raw adoration and a mounting, desperate nervousness. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, terrified of the fall but dying to jump.

“I… I want to,” he started, his voice cracking. “I mean, if you’re still up for it. I don’t want to rush you, or… or make you feel like I’m just trying to get to the end. I just… I really want to be inside you.”

The honesty in his voice sent a shiver of heat straight to your core. You didn’t answer with words; instead, you shifted your body, sliding your leg over his hip and pulling him closer, your chest brushing against his. You could feel him stirring against you, the hard, pulsing length of him returning with a vengeance, pressing firmly against your thigh.

“I want you too, Ace,” you breathed.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and for a second, it looked like he might just dive in, driven by pure instinct. But then, a flicker of memory crosses his face.

He froze, his eyes widening as he remembered the final piece of advice from Thatch.

“Right! Protection!” he gasped, suddenly scrambling backward.

The sudden movement was so abrupt that he nearly rolled off the bed again. You let out a startled giggle as he frantically began searching through his trousers, which were discarded in a heap on the floor. He dove into the fabric, his movements chaotic and hurried, until he finally produced a small, square foil packet.

He held it up like it was a piece of ancient treasure, staring at it with a look of profound confusion.

“How… how does this actually work again?” he muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.

You watched, half-amused and half-endeared, as the formidable second commander of the Whitebeard Pirates engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a piece of latex. He tried to open the packet with his teeth, but in his haste, he nearly ripped the condom itself. He let out a small, panicked yelp, his face turning a shade of crimson that rivaled the ripe tomatoes in Thatch’s kitchen.

“Dammit! Thatch made it sound so easy!” he hissed, his fingers fumbling with the edges of the foil. “He just said ‘use protection’, he didn’t give me a manual!”

“Do you want help?” you offered, your voice trembling with suppressed laughter.

“No! No, I got this! I’m a pirate! I can handle a small piece of rubber!” he declared with a burst of misplaced confidence.

He finally managed to get the condom out, but then came the actual application.

Because he was so wired - his heart racing and his hands shaking from the sheer intensity of his arousal - the process was anything but smooth. He struggled to get the positioning right, his fingers slipping, his movements clumsy. At one point, he accidentally pinched himself, letting out a sharp “Ow!” that made you burst into full-blown laughter.

“Stop laughing!” he groaned, though he was grinning despite his obvious frustration. “This is a high-stress operation!”

After several minutes of trial and error, and a fair amount of breathless cursing, he finally managed it. He let out a triumphant huff, looking at himself with a sense of accomplishment as if he had just navigated the Grand Line without a Log Pose.

He crawled back over to you, his eyes darkening as he settled between your thighs. The atmosphere shifted instantly from comedic to searing. The laughter died away, replaced by a heavy, expectant silence. Ace hovered over you, his arms shaking as he braced himself on either side of your head.

“Are you… are you okay? Are you sure?” he whispered, his voice dripping with so much love it made a genuine smile break out on your lips. He was perfect.

“I’m sure, Ace. Just… be gentle,” you whispered back.

He nodded, his expression one of absolute focus. He guided himself to your entrance, the tip of him brushing against you. You felt a sharp intake of breath from both of you. The heat radiating off him was immense, and as he began to push forward, the sensation was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

“It wasn’t the effortless slide the commanders had implied to him. Instead, it was a slow, pressured stretch. You felt your muscles tighten instinctively, a small gasp of discomfort escaping your lips as you felt the sheer girth of him filling you.

Ace stopped instantly. He froze, his muscles locking up, his eyes wide with terror.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I’ll-”

“No,” you gasped, reaching up to cup his face, your fingers digging into his cheeks. “No, don’t stop. It’s just… it’s a lot. It’s just the first time. Just… stay still for a second. Let me get used to it.”

Ace stayed perfectly still, though he looked like he was vibrating. He was holding his breath, his chest heaving, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that felt like it could burn through the sheet. You could feel him pulsing inside you, a heavy, insistent throb that echoed the beat of your own heart.

Slowly, the initial discomfort began to face, replaced by a feeling of incredible fullness.

It was an overwhelming sensation, a physical connection so deep it felt emotional. You shifted your hips slightly, testing the feeling, and let out a long, shaky sigh of relief.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice breathy and warm. “I’m okay. You… you can move now, Ace.”

You expected him to dive in right in. Instead, the moment you gave him permission, Ace let put a sound that could only be described as a whimper.

He didn’t move. In fact, he seemed to sink even deeper into the mattress, his forehead dropping to rest against your shoulder, his body shuddering violently.

“Ace?” you asked, confused. “Why aren’t you moving?”

He let out a choked, needy groan, his voice muffled against your skin. “I… I can’t,” he rasped, his breath hot and erratic.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, and you saw that his eyes were completely glazed, his pupils blown wide. He looked absolutely wrecked to say the least.

“Y/N… you feel… holy shit, you feel so good,” he whimpered, a stray tear of sheer overstimulation pricking the corner of his eye. “If I move… if I even move an inch right now… I think I’m literally going to cum again. I can’t… I can’t handle it.”

You blinked, a small, surprised laugh escaping you. “Are you serious? You’re the second commander! You have legendary stamina!”

“Not when I’m inside you!” he wailed softly, his voice cracking. “It’s too much! It’s like… like I’m being hugged from the inside! I’m losing my mind, Y/N! I’m actually losing it!”

The sight of him - this powerful, stubborn pirate, completely defeated by the simple sensation of being inside you - was the most erotic thing you had ever seen. You felt a surge of playful confidence, remembering the nurses’ words about taking the lead.

You wrapped your legs tightly around his waist, locking your ankles behind his back, and gave a sharp, deliberate tug, pulling him deeper.

Ace let out a loud, undignified shriek, his back arching off the bed. “OH GOD! STOP! NO, DON’T STOP! BUT STOP!”

“You’re such a dork,” you giggled, your voice dripping with affection. You began to move your hips in a slow, grinding circle, testing the friction.

Ace made a sound that was once again half-sob, half-moan. He gripped the headboard behind you so hard that the wood groaned under the pressure. “I’m going to die,” he gasped, his eyes rolling back. “I am actually going to die right here on this bed. This is it. Tell Pops I love him.”

“You’re not dying, Ace. You’re just sensitive and dramatic,” you teased, increasing the pace slightly.

As the rhythm established itself, Ace finally found his footing, his movements transitioning from erratic shudders to deep, purposeful thrusts. He wasn’t “smooth” in the way a seasoned lover might be - he was too eager, often pushing too fast or missing the angle - but every single movement was fueled by a level of devotion that was intoxicating.

“Is this… is this okay?” he panted, his voice returning to that low, commanding tone, though it was still punctuated by the occasional whimper. “Am I… am I doing it right?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your head tossing from side to side. “Right there… oh god, Ace, yes!”

Hearing your pleasure seemed to give him a second wind. He stopped worrying about the “manual” and started listening to your body. He remembered Marco’s words about changing the pace, slowing down just as you were reaching a peak, only to drive back in with a sudden intensity that made you scream his name.

The room felt like it was catching fire. The heat radiating from Ace’s skin was literal now, the air shimmering around him as his emotions flared. Every time he hit that specific spot you felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your spine, and Ace would let out a ragged, needy sound, as if he were the one receiving the pleasure.

“I love you,” he gasped, his voice breaking as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your toes curl. “I love you so much, Y/N. I can’t… I can’t believe this is real.”

The emotional weight of his words, combined with the physical intensity of the act, pushed you over the edge. You felt the coil tighten, the tension building into a crescendo that felt like a tidal wave crashing over you. You gripped his shoulders, your nails digging into his tan skin, and let out a loud, prolonged cry as your orgasm slammed into you.

Ace didn’t wait long to follow after you. The moment he felt your internal muscles clench around him in the throes of release, he lost the last shred of his control.

“Y/N!” he moaned, his voice echoing through the entire room.

He delivered one final, deep thrust, pinning you against the mattress with the full weight of his body. Then he stiffened, his muscles locking up in a violent spasm as he emptied himself into the condom. He groaned your name over and over, a long, shuddering release that left him completely spent, his breath coming in jagged, sobbing gasps.

For a long time, neither of you moved. You lay there in a tangle of sweaty limbs and tangled sheets, the only sound the creaking of the Moby Dick as it swayed in the ocean waves.

Eventually, Ace shifted, rolling to the side but keeping you tucked firmly against his chest. He let out a long, contented sigh, his eyes half-closed and dreamy.

“So,” you whispered, your voice sounding small and satisfied. “How was the ‘main event’?”

Ace let out a soft, sheepish chuckle, kissing the top of your head. “I think… I think I might have failed the technical part. I definitely… messed up on the way.”

You giggled, snuggling closer to him. “I don’t know. I think you did just fine for a novice.”

“A novice, huh?” He grinned, a flash of his usual confidence returning. He tightened his grip on you, a mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “Well, the thing about novices is that they’re very eager to practice. I think I might need a few more… educational sessions. Just to make sure I’ve mastered the technique.”

You laughed, your heart full. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice dropping back into that low, dangerous register as he began to nuzzle your ear. “I think we should probably start with a review of a few different positions. You know… for science.”

You laughed. “Hm. For science. Of course.”

The sun hadn’t even begun to peek over the horizon, and the Moby Dick was shrouded in a heavy, pre-dawn mist. At roughly 5:00 AM, the ship was usually silent, save for the rhythmic splashing of the waves and the occasional snoring of a crew member.

Except for the commander’s deck.

Edward Newgate, the strongest man in the world, stepped out onto the main deck for his early morning sake, his massive frame cutting through the fog. He stopped mid-strike, his eyes blinking in confusion. There, huddled around a small table on the docks of the upper deck, were his top commanders.

It was a sight that would have terrified any enemy fleet. Marco, Thatch, Vista, Jozu and Izou were all present, but they didn’t look like the formidable leaders of the Whitebeard Pirates. They looked like survivors of a shipwreck.

Marco was slumped over the table, his face pressed against the wood, one eye open and twitching. Thatch was staring blankly into a bottle of sake, drinking straight from the neck with a thousand-yard stare. Vista’s legendary mustache was drooping, and Izou was rubbing his temples with a look of profound spiritual exhaustion. Jozu was simply sitting in silence, staring at a wall as if trying to erase a memory from his soul.

They were surrounded by empty bottles and half-eaten plates of snacks, looking like they hadn’t slept in three days.

“Gurarara!” Whitebeard’s booming laugh echoed across the deck. “What in the world is this? A secret meeting?”

The commanders didn’t even jump. They didn’t have the energy to be startled.

Marco let out a slow, rattling sigh. “Pops… please. Just… stop talking. The vibrations of your voice are too much for my brain right now, yoi.”

Whitebeard paused, leaning down to peer at his sons. “You all look like you’ve been fighting a Yonko for forty-eight hours. What happened?”

Thatch slowly lifted his head. A single tear of regret rolled down his cheek. “Worse, Pops. Much worse.”

“Explain,” Whitebeard commanded, though he sounded amused.

“We gave him a crash course,” Izou whispered, his voice a mixture of horror and betrayal. “We thought we were being helpful. We thought we were guiding him. We thought we were protecting our little sister by ensuring Ace knew what he was doing.”

Whitebeard blinked. “Ace and Y/N? I figured they’d finally gotten around to it.”

At the mention of the couple, the entire group of commanders flinched simultaneously, as if they had been struck by a physical blow.

“You don’t understand, Pops,” Vista groaned, covering his eyes with one hand. “The walls on the commander’s floor are thick. They are very thick. But Ace… He really doesn’t do anything halfway. The sheer… volume… the enthusiasm… the screaming…”

“He’s a monster,” Jozu grunted, his voice hollow. “A loud, passionate monster.”

The commander shared a look of collective trauma. They had spent the last several hours trapped in a psychological war, listening to the evidence of Ace implementing every single piece of advice they had given him - and then some.

Because they saw you as their precious baby sister, every moan, every gasp, every loud thud against the wall had felt like a personal attack on their sanity.

Thatch suddenly slammed his bottle onto the table, his expression one of pure agony.

“I regret it!” he wailed, his voice cracking. “I regret teaching him! Why did I tell him about the neck?! Why did I mention the clitoris?! I’ve created a beast and now I have to live with the mental images!”

“I told him to change the pace, yoi,” Marco muttered into the table, sounding defeated. “I didn’t realize he’d take “driving her crazy” as a literal mission objective. I can still hear it. I can still hear her screaming his name. I think I have permanent hearing loss in my left ear.”

Whitebeard stared at them for a long moment, then he let out a laugh so massive it nearly knocked Thatch off his chair.

“Gurarara! It seems the boy is really thorough!”

“It’s not thorough, Pops! It’s an auditory assault!” Izou snapped, though he looked too tired to actually be angry.

Just as a heavy, blessed silence fell over the group, a sound drifted across the deck from the direction of the commander’s quarters.

“ACE! OH MY GOD, ACE-!!!”

The scream was followed by a loud, unmistakable THUMP that vibrated through the floorboards of the ship. The commanders froze. As one, they all slowly turned their heads toward the sound.

Thatch let out a broken whimper and leaned forward, burying his face in the sake bottle. Marco simply closed his eyes and began to pray to a god he didn’t even believe in.

“You know, I think I’d like to see that sometime,” leaning forward a smile plays at your lips, fingers sliding across the lacquered bar. “Maybe tonight?” a husky invitation, smokier than the amber in your glass.

“I can make that happen for you,” a man grins back, eating up the attention. You’re not as sure of his name as you are of his wealth- something he seemed far prouder and more eager to flaunt. In the drunken laud of himself, he let slip one crucial detail you’d been searching for. He has something you want. You have something he wants. But, only one of you would be satisfied by the end of this.

Unfortunately, this addendum to your plan had been so spur of the moment, you hadn’t gotten a chance to explain it to Zoro who just arrived to your designated meet-up. When his massive form steps up to you with a long cast of his deepened shadow, the man is immediately- rightfully- nervous. “What are you doing?” a low, dangerous voice that keeps your whiskey warm, but your prey wavering.

When Zoro’s hand rests at the bar behind your back and he leans in, you know the man is seconds from bolting. If you want to keep the ruse up, you’ll need to coax him back in- and drop a hint large enough for Zoro to notice. “Ugh, don’t mind him,” you roll your eyes, fingers flirtatiously circling the rim of the man’s glass to bring his attention back to you. Zoro’s fingers claw into the counter and his eye narrows on you. “My brother gets a little protective, sometimes,” You hear the subtle scrape of the woodgrain beneath his nails. “But he was just leaving” the insistent flutter of your lashes signals the ruse to him.

But, it hardly matters. Zoro knew your game- had seen you play it before. Yet, tonight, he could barely contain himself to the sidelines, watching you flirt with a man who wasn’t him. Zoro takes the man’s glass, the touch of your fingers still ghosting the rim- and throws it back. “We’re leaving,” he stresses with a firm grip to your arm.

“I’m having a great time right where I am,” trying to impart your intention, you hold his gaze with a little lift of your brow.

“I’m sure you are,” Zoro’s eye trails down the low cut of your dress, revealing the swell of your breasts, the thin silken fabric leaving little to imagine of the soft peaks that perch there. Your lush thigh bare through the long slit- too close to touching another man for his liking. “Let’s go,” he tugs at your arm.

“No,” you tug back. “I’m staying.”

Zoro bares his teeth, “how many times have I told you,” he leans into your space with a wicked gleam in his eye, “not to leave the house looking like this?” Somewhat taken aback, you blink as he then leans into his role, “what would father think if he saw you right now?” Once more, he tugs, “don’t make me tell you again.”

The heat in your low body floods liquid warm, blooming all the way up your chest and across your cheeks. Drink kicking to buzz, you become pliant in Zoro’s grasp. When pulls again, you heel- sliding off the stool and following as he drags you away. Away from the bar- away from the man- and out the heavy back door into the alley of night, kicking it closed behind him.

In a whirl of movement, your back is pressed to the wall of the bar and you feel it vibrating with the exuberant revel still roiling within. Night is high and the shadows are long in the narrow space between two buildings. Zoro presses his palms to either side of your head, caging you in. Even in the dark, the glint of his eye is sharp- matching his grin. “Brother, huh?”

Slurring a little, you give your explanation, “he has the painting- the one with the map.” Zoro leans in with a ‘hmm’, lips trailing up your jaw. “I can still get it,” you reason, “I’ll let him take me home and-”

“Not happening,” his teeth graze your warm skin.

“But-”

“Not.” His voice is a growl in your ear. “Happening.” The nip of his teeth follow. Pulling back, he holds his face close to yours, feeling the way the heat rises with your pretty blush that the night can’t hide. “What kind of big brother would I be, if I let you go home with a strange man, hm?” Tilting his head, he brings a hand to cup your jaw, thumb trailing your lips, “let him take advantage of my sweet little sister?”

Zoro drags at your lip, pad pressing into the soft curve, “then again,” his forces your jaw open, thumb pushing into your mouth, “you’re not being very sweet right now, are you?” Saliva pools a little in your mouth as you whimper around him. “Run off to a place like this, dressed like a damn whore. What did you think you were doing?” He cocks a mean brow, thumb heavy on your tongue.

Though unexpected, the gathering between your legs is unmistakable. Thighs pressing together, your lips come tight around his digit, sucking to signal the way you’re feeling for him. Not that you’d need to, Zoro knows you well enough to know when you want him. This is a new game, but- fuck- did he love playing with you- cock heavy and growing in his pants.

“Maybe you want to be taken advantage of, is that it?” Even as you roll your tongue, you shake your head. “No?” Zoro pulls out, trailing a string of your spit with him and drops to his knees in front of you. “Show me then,” he looks up at you expectantly, “prove you’re not a slut.” His hand wraps around your ankle and slides it out, forcing you open, “now,” he orders.

Head tilting back with a moan, your hands pull apart your dress, the silk whispering over your burning skin- displaying your lacy little panties. “Go on,” he urges, eye locked where your fingers slip into your crotch, tugging the fabric aside. “Now, spread it open- let big brother check.” Between the whimper that falls from your lips and the sticky sound of your wet cunt opening, Zoro’s cock thrashes against the seam of his pants.

Yet, he gives you a disgusted sound, “so you are being a nasty girl.” His thumbs slip between your lips and you gasp as he pries you wide. “A very nasty girl,” he growls his displeasure, despite the way his mouth waters at the sight. “Do you know what happens,” he rolls his thumbs over the lips of your sex, “when you walk around like this?” Pulling you apart, the smell of your hot arousal thickens the air, “look at me.”

Face hot, you look down at Zoro playing dirty between your legs- whole body trembling with the sight. “When you walk around like this, you make men want to do bad things to you.” Your fingers tighten in the pool of your dress, “so you know what’s going to happen now?” body coiling in anticipation. “Now, big brother is going to do a bad thing to you.”

Your cunt clenches for him- and he feels it, leaning in towards your center. Not ready to give up the game, your hands fly to his hair, grip tight as you try to hold him back, “no, you can’t.”

“You should have thought about that,” he plays. “But, you don’t listen. Now, big brother can't help himself from doing something naughty,” As if your strength was nothing but the wind, he blows right past it, tongue striping up your slick sex. Though you keep trying to pull him away, heady moans fall atop him as he does it again- and again.

“Stop- it’s not right,” you plead, straining to keep your hips from rolling against him. “You’re not supposed to touch me there…”

Zoro smacks his hand against your clit and your whole body jolts off the wall before falling back. “This is all your fault, you know that? You brought this on yourself.” He rubs his whole hand against you, letting your clit drag over the ridges of his fingers, before dropping lower, one finger prodding at your leaky hole. “I’m going to touch you in here,” he says, tip of his finger pressing in.

“Ah- wait, wait-” he doesn’t wait, pushing in agonizingly slow, letting you feel the drag and the bumb of his knuckle as he seats in to the base of his fist.

“Feel that?” He curls his finger, pressing into your sweeter spot and you nearly fold atop him. “Feel me touching you inside?”

“I,” your voice stutters, “I feel it, ‘Ro. I feel you inside me.”

“Is this what you wanted? Someone to touch you here?” Unable to fight it, your hips push against him when he curls again. “Uh-oh,” he chuckles darkly, “I think was.” Without warning, he pulls to the tip- and thrusts back in with a second finger.

Knees bending and hips rolling, stars dance across your vision as he starts pumping you. “You just can’t help it, can you?” Fingers threading tigther, you hang on to keep your quivering body upright. “Go ahead,” he permits, “fuck yourself on big brother’s fingers. I won’t tell.” One hand wrapping around his wrist you encourage him to take you harder- and he does. The wet sound of your cunt bouncing off the brick, the slick dripping into his palm and splashing on his forearm.

Leaning in, Zoro buries his face in your cunt- lips latching onto your clit. Free hand reaching up, he pins you to the wall, using his strength to help keep you upright as he starts sucking. It’s a good thing he does, your body dropping more of your weight onto him as you quickly lose yourself to the pleasure.

Zoro sucks through the wild buck of your hips, hand ceaselessly thrusting into your cunt. The sweet bud perts between his lips, and his tongue dances over the sensitive swell. “Oh, big brother, I’m…” Zoro groans deeply, the sound vibrating against your clit, feeling the coil tighten inside you. “I’m gonna….” Breaths falling in heavy pants, the stars bloom across your vision as Zoro uses his whole face to quake pleasure into you. “Fuck, I’m cumming- fuck.”

The hot rush of your release nearly melts him to the ground, but he keeps pumping, keeps sucking- until he’s sure he’s had it all. Until he feels you thrashing overtop him. Pulling off your clit with a wet pop! he grins up at your flushed face, “you made a mess on me.” Lashes fluttering, breath still reeling, you manage only a small whimper in response. “I think you liked it.” Shaking your head, you cling to your reluctant role while your mind quickly empties of thought.

Zoro pulls his fingers from your cunt so suddenly, you cry out. Standing he holds them up to your face, “see that?” one hand gripping your jaw, forcing you to look. “You came all over me.” Fingers pushing into your mouth, he pries it open and shoves in his messy fingers, “clean it off.” The command of his voice has you obeying immediately. “You did something very, very, bad. We don’t want anyone to know what happened, do we?” You shake again, tongue rolling between his fingers as your head bobs a little while you suck yourself off him. The motion has him so hard, his cock stains the front of his pants as he finally shoves them down enough to spring it free.

One arm reaches for the bend of your knee, hoisting you up and open, "now, you're going to have to take this cock." His other hand rips your panties further to the side, then wraps around his base until he's lined up between your legs. "Feel that?” Feeling his cockhead slip in, your hands grab at him to keep yourself steady. “This is what you get when you go whoring around,” opening you wide, he pins your knee back to the wall. When he feels the squeeze of your pussy sucking him in, he gives you a few more inches. “But, I think you want it, don’t you? You want to get fucked like a naughty little girl.” Soundless moans steal your breath as his big cock stretches you open. “Answer me,” he demands.

“Yes,” you obey. “Yes, I want it- wanna feel it so bad.”

Zoro grabs your other leg, hauling you off the ground and pinning you open so you’re left with no choice but to feel the delicious agony of his slow push. “Aww, I know,” he coos wickedly. “Your needy body is sucking me right in.” His tongue drags up the slope of your neck- then latches on as he thrusts home.

Fingers digging into his skin, you leave little crescents beneath your hold as your world spins, adjusting to the size of him as he fills you up. Zoro throws his head back with a deep groan that rumbles through his chest, “so goddamn tight,” he grits through his teeth. “Baby sister's little pussy so fucking good.” With his filthy praise, your body pulses around him, “ah-fuck,” he growls.

Tight grip on your thighs, Zoro starts fucking you against the wall. “Feel that? Made me so goddamn hard, now I have to fuck you like this.” His pace picks up, every ridge dragging through your sensitive body. “Maybe this is what you wanted all along. Is that it? Is that why you go out looking like that- putting your body up for grabs to the first man you see,” his pace quickens. “Trying to make me jealous, trying to get big brother’s attention?”

“Yes, yes,” you moan, pleasure spearing through you, “need you to fuck me, need you to do bad things to me, ‘Ro.”

He fucks you hard, chasing his own animalistic release- knees scraping the brick with the strength of his thrusts. “Yeah, I’m about to do something bad to you- something real fucking bad.” Tears bloom in your eyes and your voice races out the alley when he changes the angle of his thrust, cockhead driving into something deep and delicate. “Shh, quiet, little sister,” he shushes. “Don’t want daddy to hear what we’re doing.”

Pressure building, your fingers fly to your clit, frantically rolling it between them to force another orgasm. “That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “milk it out for me.” The spring winds again and Zoro drops his face to the crook of your neck, feeling the taut squeeze. “Shit- shit,” he hisses and when his cock thrashes inside- you snap and cum again.

Hot cum spurts deep and the guttural noise that rips from him vibrates your whole body as you pulse around his thick cock. His thrusts sounding wetter as the mixture of your cum foams over his dick and splatters with every pump. Zoro drives hard, again-again-again, your whole body rising with the force- until he’s sure he’s given you everything.

Zoro’s lips go to your neck, trailing kisses up to your jaw as his hips slow, keeping himself buried deep inside you. Turning into him, your mouth finds his- tongue tasting yourself on his lips. Gently, you pull his lower pout between your teeth, releasing with a playful nip.

Just then, the backdoor flies open and the man you left at the bar comes stumbling out- barely sober. Zoro doesn’t move, even as he stares at the sight of you both, eyes widening and mouth falling open as some corner of distant sobriety tells him he’s seeing something he shouldn’t.

“Big brother~” you coo, eyes locked on the man, letting him watch- letting him believe what he’s seeing. “I’ll be good- promise,” you turn back into his lips, letting your words drag sensually across them. “I won’t tell daddy how you touch me, if you do it again.”

“Yeah,” he returns your bite, “it’ll be our little secret, okay?”

When Zoro turns a deadly gaze towards the man, he startles and scrambles back through the door- slamming it shut.

Giggling a little, you press your lips to his and share a deep kiss. Pulling away, he asks with a teasing lilt to his voice, “think you could still get that invitation?”

There’s a mischevous gleam in your eye, “want me to go try?”