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Rob Lucci 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

He gave you a brow. Hands in his pocket, wearing a dark suit and watching you with darker eyes.

“Have you no dignity?” His voice is flat, cold but you don’t care.

You keep tiptoeing, lips still pouting and hands fisting his shirt. Pulling him. “Robbie… please, just one kiss.”

His brow line creases. Half-offended. “Don’t… call me that.”

You hum, going back to your feet. Pouting.

He’s not indulging you. Not moving one inch to kiss your lips.

Fine then.

It’s war.

You’ll nag him till he gives in.

“Luuuuci, pleaseee,” you whine out and he sighs through his nose as you keep tiptoeing up.

No answer. Just condescension seeping through his gaze.

You keep tugging, whining and only when you hear Kaku’s voice calling you both from a distance do you stop. Glancing to the source of his echo. And when you let go of Rob’s collar, eyes drifting away to the distance and heels padded fully on the floor—does he place a hand on your jaw, sliding your face to meet his gaze.

And you blink.

long, dark hair trail down your face. Tickling your shoulders, as one smooth motion of his hand slide down your hips to the small of your back, bringing you up to meet his lips.

Rob’s calloused fingers digs into your flesh, forcing a whine to leave your mouth, which he seals with a kiss. muffling you.

And the kiss is not soft but raw—pushing, claiming, forcing you to lean back so to retain footing but his hand on your jaw has made its way to the back of your hair. Forcing you deeper into his kiss.

And when Kaku’s footsteps trudge closer, only then does Rob part from you—lips clicking, strings of saliva between your tongue as he straightens himself, and your cheeks burn at the sight of his face.

Smug, cocky and entirely pleased with himself.

Jerk.

Sir Crocodile 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Sir Crocodile was giving you a look… quite similar from what he gives that tardy clown except there is a hint of amusement in it. But only a hint.

You were pulling on his vest, frowning.

It’s been ten whole minutes and he’s not budging.

Meanie.

“Sir… please.”

He gives you a brow, a corner of his grin going up.

“Please, what?”

Your cheeks burn flushed. “You know what.”

He tilts his head to the side, ash falling off his cigar. “No, I don’t. Indulge me.”

Your knuckles clenches, tugging at the fabric of his shirt.

He’s taunting you! What a rude little….

“You look like you’re about to explode, need a hand with anything?”

“You—…” You bite your tongue, trying to tiptoe even higher, pull his shirt even harder.

You start growing frustrated and embarrassed, but he’s been so handsome the whole day, you can’t imagine yourself leaving without kissing him—but it’s been a whole ten minutes, and still! He’s not budging.

The frustration starts to make you teary, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt so hard you feel like you’re going to tear it off of him and only then—when your eyes start glaze with tears, and your breathing starts growing hot with fury, does he lean in.

Arms unfolding. One last smoke taken before the cigar is dropped to the ground. Hook landing around your waist, tugging you closer as he grabs your ass, ringed fingers digging into the soft of your flesh as he lifts you up by the back.

Meeting his lips.

The kiss is soft, faint—until you press deeper, further, growing desperate enough that his tongue skims over your lips. Your heart starts beating out of your chest, hard and erratic as the kiss grows hotter, heavier, wet sounds escaping you both.

And when he parts? Setting you down by the ground?

It’s all smugness and adoration.

His larger hand making it to the side of your face.

“Be a good girl and fetch a new cigar in my jacket for me.” his voice rasps, thumb rubbing your lower lip.

And that’s all he has to offer for you to pad across the room. Face completely burnt.

Trafalgar D. Water Law 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

“What are you doing.”

“What does it look like, Law!?” You huff out, toes starting to ache as you try and tiptoe further up. And Law looks at you like he should take pity on you or mock you completely.

“Law, please, just—”

“Just what?” He muses, smirk coming into place and your cheeks burn.

“Please. Just, one kiss,” your voice comes out soft, too soft and it makes him want to tease you harder.

“Why should I? Last time I checked, you called me a jerk.”

“That was two days ago!”

“And still no apology.”

You clutch onto his collar with both of your hands, trying to tug him down but he’s not budging, and the smug grin of his isn’t either.

“please Law…”

“go on, please what?”

Your brows pull, face turning into fire, “Please, I'm sorry… Can you kiss me?”

Law tilts his head, the expression he wears on his face is untelling—the grin hasn’t dropped, the cockiness as prevalent as ever and your heart beats into a storm at the sight of it. Knuckles clenching, cheeks sizzling and brows pulled hard enough to form a vein. And just when you think he’ll mock you once more, do you feel his hands land on your shoulders, sliding down your ribs, slow and streaming—landing under your butt, lifting you off your feet.

the gap closes and the friction of clothes grinding between one another makes you arch, as he lands his mouth on yours.

Pushing, claiming, and you feel his tongue skimming over yours—and on instinct—you suck.

The kiss grows hot, wet; saliva and groans exchanging between you two, parting only to breathe.

For a moment, Law only looks at you.

Taking in your features.

Breath hot on your face, and something soft settles in his gaze.

His voice low, almost a mumble under his breath and you barely catch it.

“Pretty.”

You blink. “What—?”

He kisses you again. Pushing your ass even further up, and you whine into it.

Yeah.

You two are going to be kissing for a good while.

Donquixote Doflamingo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

He was being a mean, rude, cocky, snobby and a barbarous little shitbird about your situation.

And it makes you seethe, hands tugging onto the pink feather of his coat.

Pulling, yanking, face fuming with frustration as you stare up his stupid handsome face.

“Doffy… please, just lean down.”

He has the audacity to snort out loud and you scoff, offended.

Your cheeks burn into fire, swallowing your pride—you’re not giving up, not yet.

“You’re mean.” You huff and he takes a strand of your hair between his fingers, twirling it.

“Yeah? If I’m so mean, the why are you beggin’ for a kiss, hmm?”

You pull out the trump card. “Because I love you.”

And he freezes.

You decide to go in for the kill — you give him that doe eyed look, the coquettish, begging one. “Please Doffy.” Your voice is soft, pleading, “Just one, it’s all I want.”

Doflamingo flicks your hair from his fingers, hand grabbing your jaw, as he leans down—slamming his mouth into yours.

And the taste of wine, cocktails, pineapple juice and corruption seeps all into you; his tongue sloshes over yours. Wet, hot and messy as he forces you deeper into it, possessive hands travelling down your waist and latching onto your hips. Hoisting you up.

The kiss starts growing sloppy; clicking sounds and moans slipping every time you tilt into a new angle.

And when you part, its only to breathe, huff and ground yourself. Head dizzy. Doflamingo’s forehead nudging yours.

“You love me, huh? Then you have no one to blame but yourself.” He grins, and it’s not sweet or adoring, no—it’s got wickedness written all over it; but you know what’s worse?

He is right. This is no one’s fault, but your own.

Roronoa Zoro 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

You were practically doing mini jumps to get to this man.

Tiptoeing. Neck arching. Hands tugging his collar as he gives you a long, long stare.

Arms crossed.

“Zoro.”

“No.”

You tug his shirt. “Zoro!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“Still; no.”

This is how it has been between you two for ten minutes.

You’ve been trying to steal a kiss, he’s been watching your failed attempts with the most aloof, most unbothered, most ‘this-gotta-be-a-joke-but-I-also-dont-want-it-to-end-just-yet’ face ever.

You were leaning forward, he was leaning back.

“You’re not giving me a chance!”

“So?” He gives you a brow and your face pulls into a frown. Cheeks starting to burn.

“Lean down. Please.”

Zoro blinks, slowly, before eventually tilting his head to the side, a cocky smirk coming into place.

“Sure.”

You regain some hope, tiptoeing further up, straining yourself even.

“Really!?”

“Yeah. if you beg.”

At that, your face sullen once more.

“I’ve been begging.”

“Yeah? Well, I guess you don’t want to kiss me that badly then—” He unfolds his arms, moving away and you panic. Latching harder onto him.

“Please!” You tug him towards you, ignoring the widening grin on his face.

“Please, please kiss me, please it’s all I want. Just one.”

“You want it that bad huh?”

You swallow your pride, and nod.

And at that, he scoffs. Hands going to your ass, groping, squeezing as he lifts you off the ground, his crotch grind against yours, fabric causing friction between one another as he hoists you further up—meeting his lips.

Soft. Sweet.

Lips clicking when he parts.

And he gives you a smaller smile, “Happy?”

“As if.” You lock your arms over his shoulders, bringing you two into a kiss once more.

And this time, it’s deeper, longer and messier. you have decided to reap your reward to the fullest.

Sabo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Sabo was training alone, just some simple combat moves — shirtless and sweaty. Blonde hair sticking to his face as he moves across the field.

He was heaving at the end of it, wiping his chin, and just when his little break was over, he spots you from the corner of his eye.

Sabo instantly brightens up at the sight of you, grinning and hand going up to wave you over but before he knew it—you were already half way closer, and when he blinks—you’re plunging into his chest.

Arms slung over his shoulders, as you practically anchor him into an embrace.

He didn’t even have the chance to comprehend the gesture before he feels your lips on his neck.

Making him flinch, grabbing onto your shoulders and just stares at you dumbfounded.

“Woah now, what’s all this? You okay—”

You blink. Then you tiptoe up and kiss his cheek.

Sabo doesn’t move. He just shuts up as you grab his face, kiss the corner of his lip, chin, jaw, his brows and eyelids—everywhere and anywhere, you attack him with your kisses.

Lipstick marks all over his face.

And he just stares like an idiot when you finish.

Your face all shy and grinning, grabbing his hands into yours, bringing them to your chest.

“Sabo.”

“Y-yeah..?”

He just keeps staring, neck going red.

“Don’t you want to kiss me back?”

Sabo blinks. Lips parting. “I—”

What is going? Did someone take over your body? And why are you extra pretty today? Something isn’t right here, but that spare second of assessment, that delay in an answer makes you frown. Letting go of his hands, moving away.

“Too late. I’m out. Have fun training alone, buddy—”

He catches your wrist, and hauls you right back in.

Hands going on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him.

Your legs all intertwined, your chests pressed into one another as he makes you look at him.

He leans in, just enough to catch the warmth of his breath on your face, his forehead grazing yours. And your cheeks burn at the sight of him.

He’s grinning sly and mean—and when Sabo gets like that—you can’t help but go completely dumb in the head.

“Want me to kiss you? Yeah? If you want it so badly then tell me why you’re all clingy today.” His lips inches near yours, but they never land—and you feel how he squeezes you up into him by the ass.

You tiptoe in for the kiss but Sabo keeps moving away, not fully, but just enough to tease.

“Sabo—”

“Tell me.”

And you hitch your breath when you feel his crotch.

What a mean jerk.

You pout. “Cause’ I missed you, that’s all.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really.”

And he smiles, all boyish and teasing.

“I missed’ you too.” And he’ll show you that, by pressing his mouth onto yours, lips mushing into one another and you smile into it.

He has one hand on your back, the other in your hair. Tilting you deeper into kiss.

Congrats. You’re not leaving the training grounds any time soon.

Donquixote Rosinante "Corazon" 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Corazon was sizzling some veggies by the stove. Pink apron tied around his waist as he fixes today’s dinner for both of you.

And he hears the kitchen door creak open.

“Soon love, I’ll just sauté these and then dinner will be—”

You wrap your arms around his waist, lean your face against his spine.

And he halts.

Breath caught in his ribs as he watches the vegetables turn toast.

“Er…” Corazon looks over his shoulder, where he’ll find you rubbing your cheek against his back. Small and little compared to him.

“Is everythin’ okay? Did something happen—”

You press your face harder against him and he turns rigid. Back arching.

He turns the stove off.

Slowly, awkwardly, he goes to face you and you just leech right back onto him. Face buried into his abs, taking in the scent of him.

You look up, face all mushed into him and he turns bright pink at the sight of your face.

Damn. Okay. You’re pretty, too pretty.

It’s turning him stupid.

“Cora…” You mumble out, fisting his shirt.

“Y-yeah? What is it gorgeous?”

“Why aren’t you touching me?”

And he blinks. He didn’t even notice it but his hands are hovering above your hips.

Too flustered to know where to place them.

“Y-you want me too—?”

You frown. And he presses his lips, swallowing.

What a stupid question.

Of course you want him to touch you.

Corazon places his large hands on your hips, and you press yourself closer to him.

His thigh going inbetween yours and you hear him hold in a whine when you kiss chest, lean your cheek against his ribs.

“Is it okay if we eat later? I want to feel you just a bit longer.”

At that, his shoulders slumps.

Chuckling just a little, before easing into you.

“Yes. Anything you want, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

Buggy the Clown 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

The so called Genius Jester is slumped over his sofa, circling his wine goblet as he grumbles, “Stupid-crocodile-smug-looking-bastard” (or something to that affect) and that’s how you’ll find him.

He doesn’t shift his head, just from your footsteps alone he knows it’s his gorgeous, majestic, piece of honeycakes walking in.

And he thinks you’re here to scold him too, his chin sinking.

“If you’re here to to call me dumb and lazy and annoying as well, then I—”

Your steps are fast, hard—plunging against the floor boards as you cast yourself over his shoulders. Face pressed into his spine and Buggy, freezes.

You snuggle your face in between his shoulder blades.

Rubbing. Pressing.

Taking in his scent… he smells like cake. And sprinkles. And just a little bit of canon fodder.

You want more of it, more of him.

And Buggy blinks. Twice. Before glancing to you.

“Er… did I…. uh… Is this a test?… Are you mad—”

“Buggy.” You hum, your voice hot against his spine, and just when he’s about to answer, do you kiss his back. Trailing kisses all over him and you feel a shiver running down his skin before you make it to the nape of his neck.

Your breath warm, turning him flushed. “I missed you Bug’, I missed you so much.”

He flinches. Breath caught.

Is this a seduction tactic? Or a trap? Whatever it is, it’s making him go stupidly red, face steaming even.

You lean in from behind, your lips skimming over his earlobe.

“Do you miss me, Buggy?”

“I…Uh…. I— yeah! I mean, of course I do!” He stammers out, shifting his head to you, his red nose grazing yours, meeting your smile. And he combusts.

Melting like an ice cone in desert heat.

“B-but where is this coming from, gem? You’re suddenly all over me—WHICH I LOVE—but erm… y’know.”

You only hum in response, manoeuvring into the sofa, and in between his legs. Nestling yourself right above his lap, face into his neck.

“I just want to be near you, just this once, please?”

His throat is flaring fire against your cheek, you even hear his heart drum from underneath.

And you resist not teasing him for it.

Instead you grab onto his chest, fisting his clothes and relax into his warmth.

And slowly, carefully, his hands makes it to your back, pressing you closer to him.

Placing his chin above your head.

“Sure….I wouldn’t mind if you missed me more often gem.” He mumbles, and you kiss his neck. Just a little.

Yeah, this is going to be a loooong night for both of you.

Eustass "Captain" Kid 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Kid was polishing up some gear — adjusting, fixing, and screwdriver in hand.

That’s how you will find him, cross legged and posture bent.

He doesn’t even turn to face you when he hears you trudge inside.

“Tch, better not be here to nag about snacks, cause I ain’t budgin’ till I got this fixed—” he freezes, screwdriver screeching against metal when he feels your chest slumped over his enormous back. He’s rigid beneath you. Hard. Stiff. As if unable to breathe.

And you lean your cheek against his shoulder blade, hands travelling up his chest—feeling him, touching and caressing him. His warmth radiating into your chest, and you cling onto him harder.

“Oi.”

You nestle your face into his back.

“Oi.”

You rub your cheek against him.

“Oi…”

You place a kiss on the back of his biceps and he flinches, snapping his gaze onto you.

Face burning, cheeks all pink and flustered and you try not to laugh.

“What’s gotten into ya!?” He practically yells out, “You think you’re going to get snacks by actin’ like a little kitten; you’re wrong—”

You lean in, and shut him up with a kiss on the cheek.

And that’s what you do.

You kiss, kiss, kiss and kiss him all over the face until you’ve stunned the vocab out of him.

Your hands are still pressed on his pecs, breasts still pushed against his spine and he goes completely steam red.

“Baby,” you hum and your voice is low, almost pleading, and it makes him tense. Warmth forming up his chest. “I missed you. I missed you so much today.” You bury your cheek against his sturdy shoulder, eyes closing. “I want to be near you, is that okay?” You look up, “Or are you too busy?”

And your angry oversized tomato just stares, teeth gritted and cheeks all flushed. His ears too.

Kid clicks his tongue, “Whatever. Do as you please.”

He says that, but his posture eases, shoulders slumps and his heart beating a little bit too fast for his liking.

He won’t admit it, but he wouldn’t mind it if you missed him a little bit more often.

Aokiji Kuzan 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

Kuzan was napping.

Snoring on the sofa to be exact.

It was dead in the night when you tiptoed in. Blanket wrapped around you like a warm fuzzy burrito, in search for cuddles.

“Kuzan?”

No response. Just a snore. And you inch near.

He has a sleep mask on, and his hands are folded over his chest. Chest going up… then down.

You press your lips, manoeuvring above him. Placing your ear where his heart sits, and when you sink your weight into him, only then do you hear the snoot bubble pop.

Hand going to his sleep mask, making a small gap with his thumb to take a peek and when he sees you? He blinks himself awake.

“Oh?” Kuzan tries to sit himself up but when you lock your thigh around his waist, tight, firm—does he freeze. “This is a first.”

you hum. “Go back to sleep.” And you rub your face into his chest. “I like this spot.”

A sweat droplets makes it to his cheek, a corner of his lip turning up. His large hand placing it above your hair. Slow, faint, as if careful to not provoke your change of mind.

“Everythin’ alright? Nothing’s buggin you?”

You shake your head, looking up to him.

Face all shy and mischievous, making him tense.

And when you lean in, crawling up his abdomen, the grinding of each others bodies forces him still, hands hovering above your ribs as you come closer. Placing a kiss on his cheek.

“Just for tonight, Kuzan’, just for tonight—so enjoy it.” There is a giggle in your tone, a tease almost, and you sink back down. Head nested in the crook of his neck and Kuzan lets out a scoff.

Easing back into the sofa, larger hands landing on your back.

Bringing you close.

“Since you insist then,” he cups your head. His finger drawing slow, faint caresses over your back. Kissing the top of your head. “don’t mind me.”

You two lay like that till morning comes, calm, safe — lousing. And maybe, just maybe, when his most lonesome hours hits—he’ll think of this moment, of you, and the warmth of your chest.

Rob Lucci

After that time by the hospital—when he brought you back to your bed; he had tucked himself in with you.

Brought your face close to his, palm resting on your cheek.

It was dark, and all you could feel was his heat radiating into yours, and hear his soft slow breaths.

Your body was sore, tired—exhausted after all the tears you shed, all the destructive training you’ve done on yourself. The fire in you grows small, resting, and Rob has held you close since.

He had kissed you, caressed your cheek so tenderly, so dearly, you almost believed yourself fragile.

That night, he did not say much—but his soft lips on your neck was an apology for all else, and maybe, you should feel flattered. Truly. But, even as he poured his attention onto you; you feel nothing, but an aching void in your chest.

One derived from fear that this love will be short-lived.

So when his hands travelled further down—you pushed him off.

“I’m tired Rob, can we just sleep?”

His head was hovering above yours, eyes quiet. He nods, slowly.

“If that’s what you want.” He says, voice unusually quiet, almost a hush, a sweet one.

He kissed your temples and buried his face into your neck.

Resting himself there. Taking in your scent, your warmth.

He’s longed for it. Craved it. Not because he’s sweet, but because it’s a need, a primal one, a carnal one.

You cup his head, long dark hair slithering between your fingers with your other palm above his shoulder blade, as you stared up the ceiling.

Will this last even when you mess up again? Would he still share his warmth with you even when you slip and embarrass yourself again?

…

Probably not.

Your heart breaks a little at the thought of that.

Lately — you’ve noticed Rob moving slower with you, during briefings or missions, his knuckles would graze yours. Not much, not heavy. But his touch is there, faint, almost a bit ticklish.

And when you pass by the halls, Rob gives you a nod. For a man so against the idea of public affection—that was a kiss and a hug and a marriage proposal all in one in his book.

You should reply with a smile, should blush and hold in a giggle—but lately, there is an aching in your chest that does not leave you.

You cannot look at him without being reminded of his cold, jarring, silence.

The one that made you beg, that made you plead and cry.

Gods.

You didn’t know you could get that pathetic for a man before but here you are—feeling such immense sense of doom that you’ll have to break and shatter again for him to love you, care for you.

You’ll get hurt again, you’ll mess up again, and when that happens, will Rob scowl at you? Give you silence and distance once again? You don’t even want to imagine it; you don’t have the heart to.

And when your body finally healed and you are allowed back to your duties?—you turn frantic.

When Rob wasn’t looking you still vanish behind the training halls, you still skip your meals and rise two hours earlier just to train a little more. It was only the fourth day when he clasped over your wrist, pinning you down with one hard look.

“Hey.”

You stiffen.

“You just recovered. Discipline is an indisputable feat but you’re being just as reckless as before. Don’t be foolish.”

You don’t meet his gaze, “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

Rob pulls his brows; do better? What. That’s not what he’s asking from you.

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t overwork yourself, you’ll be useless all torn up again—” The word useless makes your stomach sink, and you snatch your wrist back. Still not meeting his eyes.

“Right. Yes. Of course. Don’t worry, I won’t be a burden.”

A muscle of his face twitches. Tilting his head. “That’s not what I—”

“Hey, lovebirds!” Kaku calls from the distance and you snap your gaze to him. Rob never once stops looking at you, trying to find the hidden makings of your heart. To see what you feel, to hear what you think—but he finds nothing but a rigid smile and even stiffer eyes.

“Did you guys hear? Jabra managed to bribe Blueno to shave his moustache.” Kaku runs up to both of you and you immediately gorge your attention onto him. Wanting to get away from Rob’s confrontation ASAP.

“Really?” You start walking off with Kaku.

The chatter of your conversation fades away as Rob observes and scans your face of every single lie in your emotions and reactions.

Something is not right, and he can’t pinpoint what.

And Rob Lucci hates that you make him feel like a helpless schoolboy fretting over his crush about it.

You used to be so decisive, confident in your decisions but now…

You review your assigned documents over and over again, even when they hold no true value.

You jitter from place to place, taking up tasks that hardly is a one-man-job and yet, whenever your friends extend their help—you slap their hand away. And reassure you can do this yourself.

And what’s worse? As you spiral between despair and fear—Rob takes his distance.

Not silence, not absence but he only watches you. Observes your panic, your spiralling.

He should chase you, grab you by the shoulders and make you confess by lethal means and yet—you’re shaken. Your hands are trembling, your eyes are darting and your face grows bleaker, tenser.

A part of him repulses from it.

It’s imprudent, it’s pathetic—it’s weak.

And he hates that look on you.

You’re wise, accomplished—strong.

Not this. Not whatever that has possessed you and he can’t stand seeing it.

And you? You take his distance as rejection.

You’re doing it again, you’re messing up. So you put more effort, harder work and even lesser sleep. And at last when you start to avoid and move out his touch—Rob won’t stop and watch as you finally crack.

Not this time.

And not any time again.

Before you get the chance to leave for the training halls, he sits you down. And fixes coffee for you.

It’s quiet between you two. lately, you don’t really have much you want to say to him.

What if you say something that’ll make him get annoyed of you? You cringe. When did you get this anxious over such stupid things?

Your head is low, eyes set on the table and Rob slides your coffee cup in front of you.

You look up. His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, his tie loose and hat off.

His face is a myriad of secrets—silent, stoic. And when his eyes meets yours, you try a smile. However rigid.

“Thank you…”

Rob nods, sitting down. Forearm resting on the table. “It’s still hot.” Is all he says and you hum, bringing the coffee closer to your lips. Blowing the steam off.

For one passing score, it’s silent between you two. Awkwardly silent.

You start pressing your lips together. You should start a conversation. Probably.

“So, how was your day at work?” You say and Rob gives you a long, long look.

“We work together.” He says flat, giving you a brow.

You suck your lips in, “Right. Yes. Of course. What a silly thing to ask.”

You go to sip your coffee to avoid this awkward tension between you two but you catch your breath when Rob’s hand slides closer towards you on the table.

“You’re worried.”

You freeze, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know what you mean—”

“You haven’t been eating a lot, and you sneak away at night to train. You even ignore Hattori.” His hand eventually places over yours. Compared to yours, he’s large, calloused and this gesture of him is outmost foreign.

Rob is restrained, cold and indifferent and yet… his hand clasps over yours.

“You’re mine, and I don’t toss that title around like trash.” His hold tightens, not hard, not cruel but locked. Fixed. “So. Don’t treat yourself as such.”

You stare, and you stare, and you keep staring.

That was Rob’s version of ‘Please don’t hurt yourself; it’s breaking me to see you like this.’

Your mouth moves but nothing comes out.

What is there to say? What is there to point out? Rob is perfect—strong, disciplined and ruthless. He’s rational, logical whilst you’re a broken mess.

What makes you think you can even ask for more than just hope? More than just self-made facades and softer skin wearing falser armour?

But when you set the cup down, the weariness from the training, the grogginess from stolen sleep and fatigue of skipped meals, makes your hands shake. Trembling, jittery and everything a coward in hiding could possibly possess—making you accidentally knock your cup down, and you flinch.

The coffee spills across the table.

Deep, dark brown—staining the light ivory of his shirt.

Still hot, still burning and you fly up your seat.

Grasping towards the tissues as you lunge your hands towards him.

“Rob, nonono no,” Everything starts becoming blurry, your mind, your vision—even your voice grows disoriented. Nothing makes sense anymore. "No, I’m so sorry—"

All you can see, feel, are the tissues dabbing down his shirt. Panic and fear seizing you all at once and noise is starting to fill your mind—white, hot, spiralling and it only stops when Rob seizes your wrist.

Hard. Firm.

You catch your breath. Holding, even when your lungs begs for air.

He says your name, lowly, coolly. “That’s enough. That’s…” his hold on you becomes squeezing and you wince. His voice restrained, awfully so. As if it takes everything in him not to snap and shout at you to behave. To gather yourself and pick yourself up. And he would have, had it been anyone but you.

“Just… stop.”

And you cover your mouth with your hand.

He’ll discard you now.

This pathetic show of resolution, this sorry excuse of fixing your wrong.

It’s humiliating—you’re humiliating.

“Rob.” Your eyes stings, and your throat squeezes.

Your mind begs that you won’t show such weakness on open display, your heart denying any sense of reason and yet you grasp for it anyways. “Let me— let me fix this—”

“Fix what?” His tone is sharp, dominating and you become cold.

He's right. What is there to fix? You messed up and you don’t deserve second chances, or that is at least what you think he means.

He let’s go of your wrist, sighing inwardly.

“There’s nothing to fix. It’s just a shirt, so quit that annoying—” He bites down his tongue; He shouldn’t use that word, nor that tone on you, so he clicks his tongue. Starting over. “—I mean. Quit apologising.”

You blink, withdrawing your hand from his shirt. Your brows pull, breath shuddering.

You’re not anyone great or anyone special—you’re just… you.

That’s it. That’s all.

And it makes you feel misplaced.

Does someone like you even deserve to stand next to him?

You shift your head, “Do I not embarrass you? You can be honest. I can take it—”

“No.” His voice is flat. No question, no hesitation. “You don’t.”

“… Not even if I mess up again? And the papers makes jokes of my name?”

That’s when it clicks for him—the reason you’re fretting, stressing and quivering like prey; it’s because of him.

His reaction, his silence—his failure.

Rob Lucci is the World Government perfect killing machine—their best agent, most qualified assassin and Rob - doesn’t - fail. Not to anyone. Not even to that lousy Strawhat pirate (or so he would insist) and yet this…

Rob gets up and you straighten yourself as he grabs your face and smash his lips against you.

His kiss is claiming, pushing—leaving no room for doubt in his next coming words. “Never. I want you, I want this, so,” Rob looks down, his eyes not meeting yours.

Rob doesn’t let his guard down, never, and Rob doesn’t plead, ever, but this? This is close. Dangerously close. And the way his chest is twisting—it’s not controlled, it’s not pragmatic or precise and it’s certainly not something he can explain in his usual stoic and aloof manners that life spent prowling through glass corridors and shaped violence has given him. No.

This is unorganised, scattered, senseless—human.

And Rob is more frozen steel than warm flesh.

Or so others would insist but you’ll see something only you will ever be allowed to grace.

With you, he can allow himself to be more than just something that preys, hunts and kills.

His voice is strained, unsure—something you can only describe as vulnerable. Or at least his version of it.

“So stop this. No more doubts. I can’t stand watching it.” He grits his teeth, Rob doesn’t beg, he demands.

And that’s what he does when you still waver.

You protest and deny, he kisses you yet again.

You confess and you shake, he grips you somehow closer.

You sob and you cry, and he tugs you deeper into his hold, his kiss.

“Forgive me—” he says, low and quiet, breaking the kiss off. Nose grazing yours. “Forgive me.”

He cant say anything more. He can’t bring himself to even think clearly—all he does is hold your gaze, begging you with a frown, a scowl, sweat dripping down his cheek that this is enough.

For a machine like him; you’ve pushed him onto the edge of breaking, of malfunctioning.

When you don’t answer, when your voice gets stuck in your throat—he kisses you again. Lips smashing together, saliva and tears all mixed up as he goes deeper and deeper. Much like shattered armour—you fall. And for each possessive, bruising kiss, you let him catch you. Piece by single piece.

Summary: By that time, by those gestures—you come to realise there is nothing more to fear for. You’ve made an ice statue melt, you’ve made a machine somehow break and plead, at least, in the only language he knows. And that is enough to convince your heart that he remain true to his words. He’ll want you, even when your blunder is mentioned in the papers again. He’ll still care for you, even when you mess up and bring chaos to the mission. Still wipe your tears, still hold you close, still guide you home. That’s just the kind of cold love Rob Lucci has in store for you. And only you.

Sir Crocodile

Next day to come, you’ll find an aged bottle of wine on top of your office desk. The green bottle glistens under the draped sunlight. Luxury brand and quality beyond exquisite. With a golden ribbon wrapped on top of it.

There’s no question of who gifted you this—you’re even adorned in the new necklace he gave you; glistening pearls and a rarer diamond carved in the middle.

And you suppose, you should feel doted on, even daresay reassured. Sir Crocodile will never apologise, but this is the best apple he can give you.

Finer pearls, better wine and refilled perfume bottles and yet, even so…

You move away from his touch, avoid eye contact and bury yourself in paperwork. Your heels click between the halls as you dither from courier to courier—not stopping.

Not even for lunch, not even for rest.

You work, and you work, and you work.

Even more than your own lover.

You check the reports, only to see one number smudged by ink—and what do you do?

You redo the reports. All of them. Every paper, every line.

You double check the double check.

Your broody and gruff man looks you over one night, the tip of his hook removing a lock of hair from your cheek. “You seem anxious about something, dear.” He inclines his head, “Is everything as it should be?” His voice is rough, but there is a gentle, almost slow tone to it.

Back then—you had only given him a look, a rigid one. Lips parted but nothing but lies came out of your mouth.

You tell him you’re fine, you tell him there’s nothing to worry about and you kiss him on the lips for the sweet concern. Your voice was honey, and your touch was softer than any flower petal—so, can you blame him? For being such a puppet to your charms?

You pressed a palm on his cheek, and he takes you in.

Gentle gaze, kind eyes and softer lips.

Yes. You’re too beautiful for him to see your lies; your eyes brim with light and you’ve even started to eat again so surely, surely there is nothing more to worry about?

He hums, and leans into your touch. Believing you.

But truly, behind your sweeter words and softer tone, there is a wound festering. A nasty one, a horrible little thing. One that eats you at night, chest heavy, and eyes darting.

Nowadays you hesitate before answering him. Your hands tremble when you serve him tea, your stomach twist and sink into bottom despair before you hand him your reports and mails. A phantom has taken your being, warping you, moulding your confidence like clay—bent, wilted, toiled and broken. One that has made you flinch, jitter and stutter, forever more. It comes to break you.

The heels you’re wearing; you strut about them through the halls till your toes start to chafe and bleed, till your heel strains and aches—you flitter with your documents, stomping down the sharp pain like a puppet played on strings. There are no other choices here. You will endure—endure till you’ve been wilted down to nothing but a bleaker, duller version of yourself.

One that does not speak, or look or sway.

And every time you cross him—you don’t see your lover anymore.

Not gentle, caring and doting Crocodile but the cruel one. The cold, distrustful one. The one that flashed his hook at you and donned you disappointing, useless.

It gnaws at you, twists your gut and thus, every time he catches his gaze with yours; you look away. You avoid. You distance and you don’t speak unless spoken too.

It’s not done consciously but you’re aware of how he pulls his brows when you avoid eye contact, or how he tilts his head just a little bit higher when you move out of reach.

Call it what you want. Call it worry, affection, care and everything sweet and darling, but your heart is guarded, your walls are high and you can’t hear or see his heart bleeding for you.

You don’t see or notice how he speaks softer to you, slower tones and his smiles less sharp. You don’t know how he always wakes one hour earlier to do some work for you, you don’t see him browsing through high-end magazines so to find you better heels, ones that won’t stab you as you pace down the halls.

You don’t know any of that. No.

Because you’ve been distant lately, and you barely initiate a kiss or a hug anymore. For Sir Crocodile, it almost feels like a ghost of his lady is all that’s left. And whatever remains of that scarred, burnt heart of his—it aches. It makes him wince.

He tries to tug you back.

He’ll pull you by the waist from behind. Pecking your cheek.

“I’ve missed you.” He says, voice low, carrying a soft gravel from years of smoking. He pulls you closer by the waist, mouth near your cheek. “Let’s stay home today, just you and me, wine and candle lights—what do you say?” There is a hint of a smirk on his face and you force a smile.

You want to say yes. You do.

But will he keep doting on you, keep staying close to you—even when your work starts piling up? Even when letters and mails and received appointments are left unattended even for a day? What will he do, if you don’t make sure the numbers are correct and the calls are answered to?

Will he still be sweet to you then?

Your chin sinks. Grabbing his forearm.

Pulling away.

No. No he won’t.

You’ve seen it before after all. How quick his sweetness can run dry. Even for you.

“As much as I want to entertain your idea dear, I… I really don’t think we should procrastinate anything more.” You say, shrugging him off.

Like that, you keep pacing between halls, heels clicking, bandaged toenails soaking blood, hair going undone and the muscles of your face is tense; you’re either frowning or looking down.

Thinking, worrying, fretting.

You even stopped telling him about your day, your work, your thoughts and feelings.

You start becoming a shell of the woman you were.

Sure, he can play the fool and wonder what’s gotten into you—but Crocodile is not that dumb. Not even to your charms.

One evening, he’ll sit you down by the sofa. Your posture is rigid.

This time—he’s the one who prepared you both tea.

You always do that but now the roles are reversed, and though you should feel excited—you instead feel ashamed. Small, nasty little thoughts make it past your head — perhaps he doesn’t like the way you brew tea. Maybe you aren’t even good enough for that.

Stupid, stupid thinking. But one that makes you stare down at your thighs anyways.

He settles down next to you at last, sighing as he fixes a new cigar and twisting his hook off his arm.

And when his gaze meets yours at last, you flinch. Immediately straightening your back.

Shoulders stiff. Spine straight. Palms on your thighs.

His ringed fingers tapping against the table.

“You haven’t slept lately and you’ve been fidgety all week.” A statement, an observation. One that makes you advert your gaze. He takes a puff of smoke. “And you don’t speak to me anymore.”

Your neck goes cold.

He’s mad, isn’t he? He’ll leave you, discard you, just like before.

You clench your fists. Not being able to discern between truth and fear.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to… I-I’ll fix it.“ Your words leave your mouth in a hurry and Crocodile tilts his head. “Fix—?”

“My behaviour.” You fill in. Still not looking at him. Your face turns blanched, draining out of colour. “Just don’t be mad—”

That’s when his patience has met it’s end, and he snatches your jaw to make you look at him.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He tilts your head up. His gaze locked on yours. “You’re worrying that I'll send you away again, aren’t you?”

You can't answer. You can’t even look at him.

He clicks his tongue, “You’re tempting me into scolding you but,” He looks away, pulling his brows so hard it almost feel’s like a vein will pop. “But this is no one’s fault but mine.” He says, and you freeze. Looking up.

…

Huh?

Did you hear that correctly?

Is prideful, cocky, cruel Sir Crocodile… admitting fault?

… to you?

You flip your gaze to him ready to protest but he waves you off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I am sorry, love. I really am.”

You blink not once. But twice.

His voice low, quiet—but there’s a crack, a breaking; in his own gruff, raspy way.

“Darling, I—”

“I shouldn’t have treated you like a subordinate. I never should have.”

Slowly, he gets up from his seat, and when you think he’s going to leave—he instead kneels before you.

No hook, no cigar—as he takes your hand in his.

Bringing it to his lips but he does not kiss it. Only let it sit a breath away and you stare at the expression he’s making for you.

One depraved with longing and need; a dark one, a desperate one.

“What will you have me do, to bring my woman back to me huh? Do you want me to kneel, beg and plead?”

You want to gasp, blink, even chuckle. But all you can do is leave your jaw hanging open, as your lover kisses the ring on your finger.

“For I will. If that’s what you want.” He looks up to you from below, lips still sealed on your finger. “You want better stones? Finer pearls? Say the word, and I’ll fix it. You want me to beg, plead and cry for you? Fine, I’ll do it.” He starts pecking your hand, and your eyes just grow wider and wider—his slicked black hair going undone and a strand makes it to the front.

“Do you want me to go, leave? I’ll do it, only if you swear you’ll come back. Do you want to shout at me, scream at me? Fine, I’ll take it, break my heart, if you so must—just, just speak to me, talk to me. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

And at that, you let out a scoff. Withdrawing your hand.

Shoulders slumping as you see how both of you are being pathetic. Truly... what a foolish, foolish man you've entangled with. He can aim for ambitions towards kingdoms, set to rule and dominate through lethal means if it so meant victory. You know of his pride, his ruthlessness and still. He falls apart into pieces when you, his woman, avoids him for less than a month.

Tears you' have kept to yourself for the past running weeks; are already running down your cheek.

“You fool of a man.” You say, unable to keep yourself from slouching down your seat and grabbing hold of him in an embrace. Knees hitting the floor. Arms above his shoulders as you pull him closer. “You idiot, stupid, dumb, mean brute.”

“Yes, I'm an idiot. A brute. I’m everything you say, so please, come back.” He says, wincing as he tugs onto you.

The fear, the anxiety, the worry and the sheer dread that he’ll one day abandon you, like he once did—all of these feelings finally releases you by the throat.

And it’s like you can breathe again.

You tell him he was horrible. That he deserved a good hard slap across his face back then, and that he hurt you. made you cry. Made you overwork and skip your meals and sleep. And he’ll pull you closer. Humming. Agreeing. Even as you insult him, reprimand him; he’ll hold you anyways. Call him for what he is, a malicious cruel and distrustful man that failed you, hurt you — his hold on you will only grow tighter. Harder. As if to not see you leave, and discard him. And when the last word leaves you, and the final breath is made and there is no more spite and fear seizing you, only then do you push your face into his shoulder. Tugging him. Holding him. Needing him.

“Don’t be mad at me again. Not like that. Not ever like that.” You say it without shaking, without trembling. No, all you do, is take in his scent. His warmth. Clinging onto him with everything you got.

“I won’t. Not ever. Not even when you hate me, betray me.”

You fist his shirt so hard your knuckles strains.

“Promise me.”

“I promise you, my sweet, loving wife; I’ll never be mad at you ever again. I promise.” The last sentence was a whisper, a vow. One that makes you bury your face into him. Your heart is thumping with such force for all the neglected emotions, and abandoned confidence, you whine, squeezing out the last few tears made from your heart.

No hook, no frown. His knees on the floor and hair going undone. Nose buried in the crook of his lady’s neck, his larger frame slouching into yours. You hold him, take him—let him feel the heat of your skin, the scent of your perfume.

When you press your face to him; he’s a man no more but a buried one. By you, he’s forever undone. If anyone saw the formidable Sir Crocodile like this—no one would believe them.

No one but you.

His voice becomes unbearably soft. One that leaves a shudder across your skin. A secret so dear, so invaluable you wouldn’t trade the One Piece for it; it leaves his mouth like reverence. One that breaks you.

“Come back to me.”

Summary: Sir Crocodile is a man of ambition and luxury and when he holds you like this, kissing the side of your hair like you're his most beloved treasure, which you are, only then do you believe in his words to not ever break you. Abandon and shout at you. You're his to care for, his to beg for. And when he pulls away from the embrace, he'll lift you, carrying you like you weigh nothing even with just one hand. He'll bring you back to your bed. For a moment he'll look into your eyes. It's quiet between you two. Not awkward, not wrong but tense. Intimate. Until he at last leans in. Forehead pressing against yours. His breath warm, shuddering. "I love you."

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Your wounds were healing.

Law ensured of that.

In fact — he did it a little too well.

He monitored your eating, sleeping and drinking.

Took notes on your healing process and tapped his finger with a scowl every time he saw you carry something heavy. Snatching it from you or give Bepo the ‘don’t make me tell you what to do’-look and the poor polar bear immediately gets the gist.

Taking your cargo from your hands. Defeated.

He redid your bandages diligently, and always ensured you drank enough water and got just the right amount of sleep for recovery.

In other words… he was on your back.

His care did not leave you, not even for a second.

And sure. You feel cared for. You do.

But this would have never happened — did you not embarrass yourself twice.

First by messing up.

Second by having him catch your flimsy efforts in righting your wrongs. You were embarrassed. Extremely embarrassed.

Law can say it’s nothing and keep tending to your wounds but truly?

You cringe every time you remember that night, and at your blunder. You feel like a walking joke. A bothersome child. A sick patient that weighs everyone down and you hate it.

He always takes care of you — because you were a burden. A problem and an obstacle.

You don’t want to be that ever again.

Not to anyone, not to yourself, not even to him.

So...

Of course you do what is natural—as soon as you recover, no, even whilst you’re recovering, you held yourself out of everyone’s way.

It was harmless at first.

Ikkaku was spoonfeeding you soup, and she had blown on it. “Tell me if its too hot!” She inches near, and though your tongue burnt from the broth—you take it. You swallow it. Not a word to be said as the soup burns your mouth. “It’s perfect, thank you.” You say, tongue stinging.

Bepo redid your bandages. “If it’s too tight, hit me.” He says before tying the knot. And you grimace through your pain. The bandage squeezing your sinews together, a pain that can only be described as bruising, cruel—tight.

And when Law saw you lagging behind the crew during an outing, he had halted. Waiting for you to catch up as the rest of the Heart Pirates made their way along the path. You were having the worst migraine of your life — vision going slightly blurry.

“… you good? Are you in any pain?”

“—No.” You say, a little bit too fast. “I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.” You slip on a convincing smile, feeling your head almost tearing itself apart from the headache. Not to mention you got a pebble stuck somewhere between your sole.

But despite your charade, and falling for it; Law offers you his hand anyways.

“C’mere. Let’s not fall behind.”

And you’ll press down your lips. Taking his hand as he walks with you up the path.

It truly was harmless in the beginning.

All you ever really wanted, was not to be a burden. Not again. Not ever. But the line draws when it starts affecting your health, and your mind. Once you recovered—the crew had been staying at this spring island.

you started taking up chores and jobs from your friends. They didn’t ask for help, but you took it on your back anyways.

Ikkaku needed to run a few errands? You told her you’d do it.

Bepo needed an ingredient for an ointment he’s making? Yeah. You’re spending your mornings searching for a plant that doesn’t even grow on spring islands.

You heard Jean Bart mention how his back hurts from all his chores? You tell him to leave it to you.

Task after task after task.

Between all of it; you’ve lost the energy to take care of yourself but even then, you don’t allow yourself to be tired. You keep doing their chores, keep doing their tasks, keep staying up till tomorrow morning searching for an ingredient no one even knows if its exist.

And for each meaningless task, you repeat a mantra in your head.

‘You need to make up for it, fix your mistakes and not fall behind—not become dead weight.’

That’s what you tell yourself, even when Ikkaku tells you to get some rest. That’s what you tell yourself, even when Bepo tells you there’s no need for you to do all this. That’s what you tell yourself, even when Jean Bart finds you panicking for not doing a five star job on his chore.

At some point you break, not physically this time but tears stream down your face in front of your friends.

You spilled Shachi’s coffee on the floor. And your entire world starts crashing into pieces.

Everything goes black—your surroundings, your hands, even your friends. They all become a dark, meaningless blur. Their voices drones out and all you can see, is the spilled coffee and the fragments of porcelain trickled across the floor.

Your body rushes cold, your bones turn frozen and your breathing gets stuck in your throat.

And when Shachi gets to clean it, you immediately snatch the tissues from his hands. Getting to cleaning.

“Look, it’s no biggie, just coffee,” Shachi comes close and places a hand on your back. He says your name, “Don’t stress yourself over this—here,” He takes the tissues, “Get some rest, alright?”

“But it’s my fault—”

“Your fault?” Someone enters the room, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You know that voice. Of course you do.

“Heya cap, how ya doing?” Shachi greets him and he gives both of you a brow. “Shachi-ya, what’s going on here?”

“Nah it’s nothing, just some coffee—”

“I did it.” You immediately say. “I spilled Shachi’s coffee.”

You don’t look at Law, you just keep cleaning.

Out of all the times he appears and it’s now — when you messed up again. You keep cleaning, keep scrubbing the floor, even when there is nothing left to tidy.

Ikkaku comes closer, “Hey girlie, what’s going on? Why are you being so harsh on yourself? Let us help—”

“No.” You hiss, hand landing on your forehead to rub a headache away. “I’ll do this, leave it to me.” You give them your most convincing smile, and no one falls for it.

Not with those eye bags. And especially not with how your hands are trembling.

And during all of this time — Law is scowling.

He’s a patient man but this? This just makes him annoyed.

And before you open your mouth to add anything more pathetic, Law comes close. Takes the tissues. Ignores your protests and tosses the tissues down the garbage and then looks to you. Pointed finger. Scowl etched on his face.

“You. Come. We need to talk.”

That’s how you ended up here. By the med bay.

The door locked and a silence stretches onto you two.

Law has his arms crossed, leaning against the operating table and you fiddle with your hands. Not sure where to place them. He’s drilling his gaze down on you. Hard. Heavy. Focused. He’s staring so hard you start becoming aware of your breathing and the muscles on your face.

It’s dreading.

At last, he sighs inwardly. Shoulders easing.

“You’re anxious.”

You look up and you see him tilting his head to the side.

“At first; I simply thought you were just a little nervous from what happened last time but this? This gotta be put to a stop.”

You press your lips into a fine line, the headache from before starting to pound. “I didn’t mean to be annoying, I only wanted to make it up to the others. To you.”

“But you’re not annoying.”

You blink. Chest empty. And Law unfolds his arms, striding over to you.

Each step is set, deliberate, for each one forward you start to feel smaller and smaller—until, until he takes your hands ans looks them over. His hands are cold, slender but kind. A touch tender. His expression is quiet. He nudges your fingers, rubbing them, and his thumb circles your palms. The torn skin has faded and they’re healed now—but he never wants to see you destroy yourself like that ever again.

He wants to take care of you. Not as a patient—but as his girl. As his lover.

That’s all he ever truly wanted with you.

“I’ll take care of you, y’know?” He says at last and you look at him.

“And yes, back then, I couldn’t stand what happened but that still doesn’t give you the right to neglect yourself like this.” He keeps circling your palms, slow, steady motions, eyes still on your hands. He gives them a squeeze. Finally meeting your gaze.

“Burden me.”

“What?”

He leans in, voice hot on your cheek. “I said: Burden me. Be weak on me. Be stupid and foolish and put your weight on me—I don’t care.”

He leans back, bringing your hands to his face. Giving the side of your palm a kiss. Lips still lingering as he looks up to you from under his lashes. “I want you. All of you. Got that? Even when you’re in the way, as you put it, even when you’re being annoying and stupid—I want it. I want you. So... stop this. Please.” His voice breaks at the end and you flinch at that.

Law is controlled, rational, pragmatic—not vulnerable, emotional and submissive but for you? He falls and bends and weakens. And you scoff in disbelief at the very sight of it. With those words, with those eyes—you’re released. Shoulders dropping, brows softening and it’s like you can breathe again.

“Do you really mean that, Law?”

“Yes.” He does not even hesitate. “Always.”

You stagger closer, trying to hold back a whine; and Law brings you into an embrace.

You clutch onto him, and he does too. Holding you. Keeping you.

It’s warm. It’s soft.

It’s safe.

Law always ensured of that.

Summary: You don’t have to be strong around him. Or weak. Or smart or stupid. That’s not what he wants. He wants you. Only you. So—when the day comes; burden him, toil him, push him onto the edge and he’ll still keep you. Close and dearly.

Donquixote Doflamingo

(sat up for three weeks thinking about the outline of his fic: how do you make a horrible partner redeemable? I came to one answer. You don't. You just become as bad as them.)

You rushed up from your bed—heaving, panting, hands going to your throat.

Another nightmare.

Of when he strangled you that is.

You nudge your neck—not swollen. Not bruised.

You let out a whine, and in the dark of the night; you bring your face to your palms. Shuddering, breathing, trying to hold yourself still.

You loved Doffy. You did. But these days, it’s hard to look at him without remembering how he treated you. A voice, almost a whisper makes it to your head.

‘Is that really love?’

You ignore it.

You ignore it like how you ignore the trembles rising up your skin when he grins at the pain of others.

You ignore it like how you ignore the nausea, the shivers when his hand lands on the small of your back. Kissing you softly, promising you everything and more.

You ignore and ignore and ignore and ignore; ignore till it drives you sick.

Nowadays, you’ve asked to sleep separately. Just for the time being, you told him. He had made a face, the face of a boy. One who felt his chest twist, his heart sting. But he had complied, obeyed.

And you’d ignore that too. In fact; you hoped it hurt.

You hoped it hurt him good.

You fret down the halls, keeping to your work—working and working and working till it’s night again. And when morning comes, you’ll work once more. Not once stopping, not even to eat, not even to rest.

If you stayed still for too long, if you didn’t keep your mind occupied at all times — your thoughts would drift. Drift to him. His violence. His splendour. His ruthlessness and anger.

You shove all those thoughts behind your mind, burying them under piles and piles of weathered documents and old schedules and unorganised papers.

Between hands trembling and working; gifts upon gifts starts piling up your room. Ever since that day—Doflamingo has not once stopped gorging your wants. Spoiling you, giving you, doting you. He takes you out to dinner, he brings you to social events; dolls you up and speaks to you in a much softer tone.

Making it up to you.

But deep down your heart; you hate him for what he did.

And you know he's been drinking himself stupid ever since you've grown more distant. More quiet. But honestly? You did not care, he can remain drunk for all you care. In fact, when you see him try to remain sober; you'd lean in, the only short, lasting moments you were ever affectionate towards him was when you poured him some wine. "Here, try this, it's my favourite." You'd say, voice saccharine sweet and he'd blink. You never talk to him nowadays, at least you won't initiate it so when you push the goblet towards him. Eye lashes batting and smile all too charming; he can't help but fall for it.

Whenever he was sober, he was more difficult to manage. Always playing games to tug onto your heartstrings, and sometimes you'd bend. And that too, makes you hate him.

That evening, when he pleaded and begged you — you remember it clear as day. How he fondled your face, kissing your cheeks, temples and nose. And between each kiss came an apology, a sorry.

But as he kissed you, doted on you—all you can truly remember are the strings writhing across your neck. Tight. Sawing. Suffocating.

Your lip jerk. He’s trying his best. He’s making up for it. He seems truly sorry for what he did, and yes, he’s scum, what else did you expect dating someone like that? When your most wretched hours come again, you feel like the one true fool here —and still.

You can't stand the fact that you love him still. You hate it, you hate it enough that you can't even bring yourself to look at him.

At some point — headaches are forming. Sleepless nights, waking up in cold sweat and a migraine threatening to cleave you in two. And you keep burying yourself in work. Not once letting yourself slack. You can’t afford to, lest you get choked again.

And by dinner; Doffy will reach a hand out to catch your wrist — but when you flinch; he stops himself.

His blood rushing, not anger, not fury—but something dangerously close to shame. Shame. Donquixote Doflamingo doesn’t feel shame but now? With this? What else could it possibly be but shame of how he treated you? His favourite pet? His favourite person? You shouldn’t be flinching or scared of him, he wants you to trust him, love and never abandon him, but now?

He expresses that shame in the shape of the tiniest scoffs. He ignores it; trying for a gentle approach, his tone turning lilt.

"You haven’t eaten anything lately; are you feeling unwell?”

You don't even look his way. “I eat. You just haven’t been looking.” You say, cutting your steak and forcing yourself to chew it.

"Is that so now? Then why is there less of you for each passing week.”

You blink. Looking to him.

No grin, no scowl — just worry.

And you hate it.

He has no right to act worried over you, after all it’s his fau—you stop yourself from going any further with that. Wincing.

"You must be imagining it because I’m fine.” You drop your fork, bored of this conversation. “I’ll be going back to work—”

"Darling.”

You freeze. His tone is low, hand clasped on yours. “There’s no point overworking yourself—you’re the future queen of Dressrosa; don’t be too harsh on yourself. Have some rest.”

You open your mouth to protest but Doflamingo beats you to it.

“ —that’s a request from your lover.” He takes your hand, giving your knuckle a kiss. “Won’t you spoil me and follow it through?”

Lover he says — but the power difference is obvious, so how could you ever really decline him?

“Yeah. My lover.” You bite out, a scowl coming on your face. Snatching your wrist. “I’ll do anything you say.”

And at that, Doflamingo flies up his seat—gritting his teeth.

“Must you really do that? I’ve been nothing but gentle with you and patient. But clearly that does not satisfy you, so tell me, what will you have me do?” He leans in, grabbing your arms. “Want me to beg again? I’ll do it. I’ll get on my knees if I so must, just—” his grip on you goes from hard to soft. Releasing you. His hand going to your jaw. Sliding your face to meet his. He removes a lock of hair away from your cheek. And still. You don’t meet his gaze. “—just please. Look at me. Look at me.” His voice breaks, just a little.

You've been ignoring him lately, giving him the cold shoulder and empty looks. You don’t even say his name anymore. And truth is, a part of you still wants to please him. Still want to have him — but when you finally meet his gaze, his face lights up.

His smile isn’t wicked or cruel—it’s innocent. Boyish. Hopeful.

One that makes you clench your fist.

He leans in. “Do you want more jewels? Or perhaps more time? I’ll give you it, just tell me—I’ll even fix a ship for one of your friends to—”

“No.” You shrug him off. “I just need some more time. That’s all.”

His smile falters a little at that; for him, it feels like his strings on you are searing apart, and he can’t do anything but watch as you grow more and more distant by each passing day. He wants to tug you back, and he will—by force if he must.

“I see.” He leans back, straightening his posture. Giving your cheek on last rub with his thumb. “… take all the time you need. I’ll be patient for you.”

And he will. Even if you do not want him anymore, even if you decide to pack your bags and try to leave—he’ll be patient. He’ll keep watching and observe and see what you need; to bring you back to him, under his grip, his presence. That’s what he wants and needs from you.

He can’t stand the idea of you leaving him, he doesn’t even entertain that thought train, or so he likes to flatter himself. Since you’re both sleeping separately for the time being—you don’t hear or see how he suddenly jerks himself up at night, heaving, panting; not an uncommon behaviour from his part. His past ghosts still haunts him, but these days—those dreams do not take the shape of burning fires, a crying brother and a dying mother—nah. The dreams are soft. Light and everything sweet and dear in this world. They’re you.

They’re you, always you—you who places her hands on his face, bringing him close, kissing him, wanting him even in his most wretched, hateful state until at last, the dream ends. And it always ends in the same way. Your face twisting, turning blurry. Fading into the dark. Leaving him stuck in the mud. And even when he calls out your name, you don’t glance behind or look back. The warmth you once offered, gone. Just like that. And for each time, he’ll cling onto you but like smoke, you leave, vanish.

For every night terror, he flinches himself up. Hand latching onto the sheets, searching for you in bed, only to remember — you two are sleeping separately.

He did not want to obey, he wanted you by his side at all times—but you needed this, needed space and dammit; he hates this whole ‘being a healthy and understanding boyfriend’-thing it makes him physically ill to not just snatch you back.

And as time passes, the sleepless nights are starting to catch up to the both of you.

Dark figures starting to appear in the corner of your eye. Accompanied with movements in the room that aren’t truly there. You tremble more nowadays. Can’t breathe properly without feeling something heavy, something burdening on your chest.

It’s sickening. Maddening. You feel yourself starting to spiral and no matter how much you bury yourself in work — the migraines, the headaches, the anxiety and the pain and the shifting shadows won’t go away.

And one night — you cannot take it anymore.

You’re clutching onto your chest; the pain building up your throat; not being able to breathe.

Sweat starts piling up your spine and whilst you’re breaking; Doflamingo flies up his own bed. Lately, he hasn’t eaten much either, just drinking till he’s numb and stupid, and tonight, he snatches another wine bottle. Gulping down every last drop just so he can sleep again.

But even as he closes his eyes and press a palm to his head — rest does not seek him. Sleep is on a path long gone and thus his eyes drift to your side of the bed. His hand reaching out as if to expect your warmth to still linger, fingers clutching and digging into the sheets as if it will conjure your presence and bring you close and near again, but all he feels is the cold, bare fabric with no sight of your shape.

He rubs the bridge of his nose — letting out a groan.

What the hell is he doing? What the hell has he done? For all his life, everyone has always been so easy to please; gifts, money, bargains, deals and borrowed affection—one snap of his fingers and it all just fell into place, but now? With you? He’s heard you cry, seen you break and work till you tire; and no matter how much he offered and pampered you; you’re still bleeding. Why? And why are all his efforts useless?

His head is tearing itself apart with all these thoughts and you, the sole remedy for his rancid sentiments, is nowhere to be found, and who’s fault is that? Who’s fault but his? His jaw tenses and teeth are gritting as he tries to reason with his ego but it all comes at a fail.

He’s the one who snapped. He’s the one who lost control. He’s the one who choked. He did, and it’s unravelling all of his pride, arrogance and gold-structured gratification of all that he’s ever achieved.

And now, what wall of difference is there between him and his father?

Doflamingo’s hand flexes, sweat piling down his face. What little remains of that heart of his—twists, turns and goes undone. Once he would have scoffed at the idea of a possible equal other than his own shadow but now? With all that is his; blood, money, status and privilege but what is that, without you by his side? And he doesn’t want the hollow version; the one who does not look at him, speak or talk to him—but the one who’s bold and cheeky, carefree as the wind itself; not the dull, empty version that moves out his reach and fades out from his dreams.

He wants you.

He wants you more than anything else in this world and before he knows it, his heart clings onto you like helpless dog does their owner. And it makes him scoff in disbelief—truly, who’s the real pet and master here? He finishes the wine bottle before smashing it against the floor; staggering himself across the room—and for once in his life, it’s not control, precision and deliberate reverence that gravitates him towards your quarters; but need. A disgusting, depraved and drunk desire of something that he can’t describe as anything but want.

Of his person, of his heart.

And when he at last finds himself in front of you door—he’s heaving, trying to breathe as slow as possible before latching a hand on your door knob. Knocking.

“Hey, so…” His tongue ties. What is this? Why can’t he formulate anything witty or self-assured? His jaw clenches, and he bangs his forehead against your door. “I know you don’t want me here but… please.” his voice is rough, rugged.

Moments goes, and you still don’t answer.

He bangs his head against the door again to regain senses, frowning; what would interest you enough to speak to him nowadays? A corner of his lip curves up. “I need to talk to you about something — work related, y’know, about the harbour incident, well I just received word of—”

Your door creaks open, only by an inch, and your little face peaks through. However sullen and bleak you may look; eye bags and everything—he’ still smiles at the sight of you. Pleasingly

He cannot stop his fingers making it in between the gap, just so he can see more of you but your grip remains firm on the door.

“What is it, Doflamingo.” Your voice is flat, and the way you said his name sounded like a dagger to his throat but still. You said his name—he wants to hear you say it again, and again and again and again. However cold you may do it.

“There you are, sweetheart, mind if you let me in? This door between’ us does little for chatter.”

Slowly, your eyes travel up to his—and he tenses. Your eyes are narrowed, brows furrowed but you hum. And when he thinks you’re going to step aside and let him in — you slam the door in his face. Sparing his fingers by a second.

“I know your games Doflamingo—how stupid do you take me for!? Conversations of work? Really? At three A.M? Am I fuckin’ idiot in your eyes!?” You scream at him from the other side, “Just go! Leave!”

“Don’t be like that sweetheart, I truly need to talk to you about it—”

You try to resist rolling your eyes, “Oh god, spare me, I can’t deal with your lies any longer—”

At that, he snaps. Once and for all. “Lies? We really wanna talk about lies, darling?” He pulls on the door knob but your hold on it is hard, secure, and he seethes. “Let’s talk about your well being, go on, I’m interested! Tell me how you skip your meals, how you toss and’ turn at night, not catching a moment of sleep as you bury yourself in your precious, adoring work—oh yes, tell me all about how well you’re doing—”

“And who’s fault is that?” You cut him off, heart beating so fast and tenacious you think its going to pop at any moment.

“Let me… let me fix it then, let me in and we can talk about it; yeah? What do you say—”

“No. Now leave.”

He bangs his fist against the door. “Dammit woman, don’t you hear yourself? You’re breaking yourself apart and you just want me to watch you burn? What is this, a new torture method you’ve invented cause’ pray tell it’s working wonders—”

“You don’t know anything of what I’m feeling and doing so don’t even start—now leave! Go! I don’t want you here.”

He grits his teeth, slamming his fist against the door. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do so—”

“Then why did you respond to me at all?” He snaps and you flinch. Tears welling in your eyes. “tell me that, darling.”

You cover your mouth with a hand, not wanting him to hear your whines; but he does have a point.

Why did you answer him?

Back then you were clutching your chest, trying your best to hold back the panic attack that was soon to come until you heard him knock on your door. You could have just ignored him, pretended to be asleep—but between the sleep deprivation and night terrors—you’ve grown desperate, the most desperate person of them all and you long for comfort, any comfort there is; you’d take it. You wanted any comfort at all, wanted it so bad it made you sick in the stomach.

When you don’t respond, Doflamingo continues, voice strained and rigid. As if he too, during all the time spent apart, has become desperate.

“You’re in no mood for games, well neither am I so I’ll say it outright; I do not know what could possibly interest you to cling onto a man as despicable as me. Honestly if you can love someone like me, I suppose you can love just about anybody but whatever that is tethering you to me; I worship it. I indulge it, I am a slave to it, so—if you wanted only money and fame; I’d have given you all and more—if you wanted glory and power, one word and it sits upon your head. You want me to carve out my heart? Serve it on a plate and eat it before you? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, as long…” his voice breaks, swallows, tries again, “as long as you’ll look at me whilst doing it. Talk to me whilst doing it. I can't take your silence. I cannot bear your avoidance, gods dammit all; you want me to cry? I’ll cry, if it so pleases you. Just.. Please. Open this door. Let me see you. That’s all. That’s all.”

And you blink. Breath caught in your throat.

Head falling as your spine hunch, trying to recover whatever ground and sense but as your lips start to quiver—all you can find is the forlorn yearning in his pleading. His voice is raw, unfiltered and unpoised. For once — there is no act, no ulterior motive or a wrapped, worm eaten lie. Just him. Him and his desperation taking the form of something that cannot be anything, but begging.

And like a curse, it possesses you. Unlocking the door.

For a moment—none of you say anything, or do anything. He does not walk through, or open the door by an inch. A stiff, almost stale silence sits between you two. And when his steps trudges, you’ll blink, swallowing down your pride when he at least walks in.

“Darlin’, sweetheart, are you… are you cryin’?” His voice snaps you back to your senses. Wiping your eyes. “Go away.”

“Darling—”

“I’m not your darling, now — get away. It was a mistake. I don’t want to see you tonight, leave me alone, go, leave like I told you—” And now, when you start to feel it getting way too much, you bury your face in your hands. Why did you open the damn door? Why did you betray yourself like this? You must truly be the most desperate fool there is, for as he reaches his hands out to you; you snap.

“Don’t touch me—I’ve given you enough of my time—” you hit him, push him off of you, striding across the room and he follows. “I said leave, go!” You throw pillows at him, papers, ledgers, tea sets and even the pair of heels he gifted you. And he dodges none of them. Some fly past his shoulders, some landing by his feet—others crash into his torso, elbow and cheek. And he’ll take it without so much a flinch.

You yell at him, berate him, call him horrible and cruel and everything wrong in this world. Splintered glass, shattered wine bottles, crinkled documents spread across the floor like wild fire, and only when the last packaged gift, pearled necklaces and dresses still wearing their tags are thrown, only then does he move towards you.

You reach towards a vase, crashing it against his feet, a splinter sliding it’s way towards you and you snatch it, and your heart has finally seized you. Not by fear, or sadness or anger but fury.

Unfiltered and raw. One that makes you hate. White noise drilling down your ear as it takes you whole. Such anger of all the things he's done.

Fury for what he did to you that day. Fury for hurting you, confining you—choking you.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you and I hate you—” And when he comes all to close, with the sharp object in hand—you stab him right below the side of his hip line and he halts. Scowl etching onto his face but you don't care as you finally whip your gaze to him. Pushing the blade deeper into his abdomen. Blood squelching out his flesh.

“Does it hurt? I sure hope it does.” Tears flush down your face, and the edge of the shard digs into your palm. Stinging. And that is when you’ll snap out of it. Freezing. Eyes going wide as reason finally meets you.

You stare into the porcelain you’ve stuck in him. Blood seeping his clothes, gurgling out it’s wound and you stop breathing. Tears you’ve so desperately wished to hide, streams down your face. Realisation dawning on you.

You stabbed him.

You did.

Your eyes travel slowly up.

You’ve stabbed him and he’s going to hurt you just like before.

And when you finally meet his gaze — you expect that surging violence, that constrained ruthlessness you always found him keeping, only… only this time, you feel hands reaching for your head. At first you think he’s going to twist your neck, claw your face open but instead—by the cup of your head—he brings you close.

You do not process it, not fully, but he leans into you, nose landing into your hair. His touch softer than ever. As if touching something holy, sacred—and by all rights, divine.

You blink. Chest empty.

Hands trembling. Jaw jittering.

“Y-you’re hurt, I… I’m sorry, I—”

“Shhh… you think you can harm me? Cute.”

You try and push him off. “This isn’t the time for your jokes—”

“But It’s not.” He cuts you off, voice low and warm. “You can’t hurt me, not like this, at least.

“…” You hold and tug onto his shirt. Brows furrowing and knuckles straining. “But I...” Your voice cracks and he only hums. Pulling you closer.

“It's just a porcelain shard.”

“But you… why didn't you use haki? You could have dodged. Could have stopped me, I don't understand—”

"Yes, I could have, but I didn't." He shifts his head, "Want to do it again? Might make you feel better." He chuckles at that and you clutch onto his back when you feel him sinking his weight into you. Your heel digging into the floor so to retain footing.

“I might, if you keep pushing me." You seethe, only to return back into pleading, "please, let's bring you to a doctor, I—”

“No.” You feel his mouth in your hair, kissing you, taking your scent. “Just you, only you, that’s all I need righ’now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Voice becoming needy. “Doffy…”

And he winces at you saying his name. “Say that again.”

You shift your head, eyes stinging and swollen. “Doffy?”

“Yes. Keep going. With that tone.” And you shake your head, burying your face into his shoulder. “Absolute maniac.” You mumble. You both can’t bring yourself to stand upright any longer. Knees buckling into the floor.

And when he feels you at last easing, shoulders relaxing, only then does he shift his head, face going into your neck. Faint marks still remain where he choked you, fading but present, and you’ll feel his lips place above them. Gentle and lingering. “I’m sorry.”

You flinch at those words.

His voice cannot be his—it’s too soft, too gentle, too much of a whimper. “I am truly sorry. So please, do not discard me. Leave me.”

Your eyes going wide, a chuckle bubbling up your throat. One made of disbelief.

Donquixote Doflamingo doesn’t get on his knees and beg, not for anyone — but for you? That’s a whole another story.

Summary: You’re both desperate. Desperate for comfort, warmth and dependence. Doflamingo does not demand perfection or precision, but he does seek you. And in every life and time, he’ll cling onto you like a dog. Even if he has to bite into your flesh so to keep you. He’s spent too much of his life guarding his heart, ever since Corazon, he has lost any semblance of it and even now, as you pluck out the shards from his abdomen and he wraps bandages over your wounded palm—his heart has become a rancid, worm eaten, scabrous little thing. One that’s held together by constrained strings and wilted fury—but one that is yours. However putrid and selfish it is—it was yours before he even knew it. And yours it will be. A silence will come between you as you clean his wound, and whilst he stitch it together with strings. At the final end, you still cannot bring yourself to meet his gaze, but he’ll cup your cheeks. Gentle hands, warmer touch and make you meet him in the eye. He’ll rub your cheeks with his thumb, his motion slow and steady. Taking in your features. How is it, that you still want someone so terrifingly wretched? For you, he truly must be, the most desperate fool there is. He leans in, nose grazing yours, not once breaking eye contact. “I love you.”

Roronoa Zoro

That time, when he brought you back to the ship to tend to your hands—he touched you like you were a flower. Rough, calloused hands that spent years of training by the sword, turned soft, gentle—faint. Wrapping bandages that only promise you safety, security. One that you would put your trust in.

But… when he lifted your chin and kissed you tenderly, you feel yourself freeze.

“Zoro,” You hum, taking his palm away from your face.

“Hm?”

“Would you still want me, even if I mess up again?”

He furrows his brows, “What kind of question is that. of course, I would. Aren’t I showing you that now?” He leans in, kissing you by the cheek and though you should feel flattered, all you truly can feel is the deep, sinking feeling down your stomach.

He may say what he wants — but your heart is too faint to see you embarrass yourself like that ever again. You cringe every time you remember how you were knelt before the whole crew. Scolding you about your blunder. It was humiliating, you were humiliating.

That moment — they saw you in the full light. Someone weak, someone who got in the way and put a burden on everyone.

So when he buries himself in your neck, nibbling and licking, hand goes to stroke you, kissing you yet again; you move away.

“Zoro. I’m tired. Can we just sleep?”

“Of course, pretty girl,” he hums, hot breath withdrawing from your neck. Hand wiping a lock of hair away from your face. “Lemme’ carry you to bed, here, hold’on to me.”

And you do. You hold on to him so tight, it’s almost as if to not let him go—perhaps, in hopes that this night won’t come to its bitter end. So you can bury it into your memory when you eventually, inevitably mess up and he snaps at you once more. You’ll reminisce, and feel his warmth sink you into his bliss yet again.

As the days start to pass, you’ll notice him being more attentive towards you. Offering you his rice bowls, blowing your soup, tying your shoe laces and even go as far as carry you across a puddle. The crew laughing and poking at you both at his sudden display of affection and though it should reassure you, you only feel more embarrassed.

He would never be this soft for you, gentle and caring, had you never messed up in the first place. You feel like a patient, one who weighs him down—a burden he has to carry and take care of. And would he still be this patient with you if he saw you for what you really are? A burden? A weakling, even in mind and heart? Would he still claim to need you, want you, even then?

You’ll clutch onto your chest, feeling it throb—fiddling with your collar.

No. He probably wouldn’t.

The thought of that frightens you, frightens you so bad you stagger back and do what is only natural; you get out of everyone’s way.

It was harmless at first, nothing straining. Nothing noticeable.

You pick up chores, work, and errands like you don’t have your own life to attend to. You’ll nag to Zoro to take some off his load; cleaning his blades, stitch his haramaki, fix up his gym. Anything and everything. And like that isn’t enough, you go out of your way to help your friends — telling Usopp to leave his chore on maintaining the deck to you. You even tell Chopper to leave it to you with with the resupply.

And doing so — you fill yourself with a false sense of comfort. Of reassurance.

Your friends they need you now, and you, you finally have some semblance of value and worth. One made with trembling hands, indecisive thoughts and fretting worry.

Errands are made, chores are done and supplies are constantly in stock—and you believe yourself great. Even when Zoro gives you a weird look for having done all the requests in one single day. He didn’t even get to have his second nap before he finds his swords in pristine condition, sharpened, cleaned and oiled. Haramaki washed, dried, stitched and even has a lavender scent clinging to it. You believe yourself accomplished, even when Usopp places a hand on your shoulder, telling you to stop scrubbing over a splattered spot he caused a mess on. But you don’t hear him. You keep cleaning, even when your palms starts cracking dry from constantly lathering your hands in soap and water. You don’t stop scrubbing, polishing, maintaining the deck even when you don’t need to.

And you like to tell yourself that this is how it should be.

You don’t want to be in anyone’s way ever again. You don’t want others to pick up after you, you don’t want to be treated like you’re wounded. You’re not a patient, and you’re certainly not a burden. And you seek to prove that. Even when your eyes start growing heavier and your chatter starts to pale.

It was supposed to be harmless, nothing straining or noticeable — or so you told yourself, even when your friends are begging you to just get a moments of rest, hands on your shoulder, eyes glazing worry; but their pleads fall on deaf ears. For when you look to Zoro; sitting with Franky and Chopper in some casual chatter, your gaze grows heavy.

Zoro is strong, dependable and firm. A pillar of trust amongst your crew. Something you are not.

You clutch onto your collar, feeling something strange rise up your chest. An aching, a shallow one. He catches your gaze and you flinch, immediately moving somewhere else, feeling how his stare follows you.

His jaw is clenched. He must be imagining it — surely, he must. But it can’t be a coincidence that you sit next to anyone but him. Pick conversation with anyone that’s not him. What could you possibly avoid him for this time?

He’ll stalk after you down the halls, seizing your wrist. Dragging you to a secluded room.

“H-hey, what are you doing—” you don’t finish when you see the expression on his face.

Brows pulled, face hard.

… he is angry? Annoyed? Like the time you got scolded on deck?

Why? How? Did you mess up yet again? Your mind starts racing after the most ridiculous conclusions, ones that you fully believe yourself. Did he not like how you maintained the deck? Or did you miss something from the shopping? Maybe the supplies you fixed couriers for were wrong? You brace yourself for what’s to come when his mouth opens.

“Oi. Whats going on. Why are you avoiding me yet again?”

You blink. “… Sorry?”

“You’re avoiding me. Why. Did I say something stupid again—”

“No.” You say, a little bit too fast. “Not at all. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make it seem like I’m avoiding you, I’ll do better.” You slip on a fake smile. One that is awfully stiff.

“… you’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you take me for an idiot, anyone can tell you’re lying straight to my face—” As he speaks, his grip keeps growing tighter, harder and you wince. Snatching it back.

“It’s nothing. I promise. I just—” You click your tongue, adjust your hair, pretend to see something by the corner of your eye to buy yourself time to come up with a lie. “I’m just helping them out, is that a crime or what.”

“If by helping, then why is Usopp tellin’ me how worried he is over you?” He looks to your hands. Grabbing them again, this time, more gently. He looks back at you. His gaze growing soft. “What’s going on? Tell me, I’m here, you know—”

You snap. Pulling and turning away. “Honestly Zoro, we both know how Usopp can be. He worries over everything, he should learn to mind his own business—” It wasn’t meant to come out condescending or mean, but your insecurity has gripped you by the reign; and it has festered you. Not just by wearing down your body, but your heart and mind, becoming its victim as well.

And just as you were about to add something worse — a very loud sneeze is heard from behind the sofa.

Both you and Zoro freeze.

You blink, finding a very, very, familiar long nose peak from behind the cushions.

Your whole body goes cold. Terribly cold.

“Usopp?”

He emerges from his hiding spot. Face guilty. “Erm… Hey?”

“Usopp. I… I didn’t mean it like that, I was just, you know, I—” You press a hand over your chest, panic piling up as you blurb out excuses that hold no real meaning. You like to flatter yourself to be convincing at deceiving, an astonishing actor — but when your audience is a five-star liar and the most stoic, straightforward man in the whole of the world; your charade falls apart. And they see you for what you truly are; afraid. Anxious. Pathetically so.

Usopp says your name, cutting you off. And you flinch at his sudden serious tone. “I know you didn’t mean it, I know, but you should start being more honest with yourself—we’re your friends, you don’t need to impress us. We’ll like you anyways. So,” He clears his throat, “I’ll let you two talk it out. AHEM.” Like that, he’s out. Abandoning you with a swordsman glaring down your back.

Slowly, motorically, you meet his stare.

His arms are crossed, giving you an unamused brow.

“I…”

“Go on. Make another excuse, I’m interested to hear it.”

Your chin lowers, eyes drifting to the floor. Fingers pulling on the hem of your sleeves. Theres no point in pretending anymore, is there? Your hands start trembling, grimacing and you finally have to face your false pretense of confidence.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been acting stupid, I just didn’t want it to end.”

Zoro unfolds his arms, lifting his jaw. “To end?”

“On being good. On not being in anyone's way. On not being treated like a burden.” You look away. Brows furrowing. “It’s not that I wanted to impress you Zoro, I just wanted you to need me.”

The confession leaves something hard, something heavy and real hanging in the air. One that makes you feel so impossibly vulnerable.

“You’ve been nothing but caring since that day, and I’ve grown spoiled. I didn’t want you to think me incapable, so that’s why I…” you trail off. Gods. When did you get so pathetic over a man? It’s almost embarrassing. You don’t look at him as you speak. You’re too much of a coward. “That’s why I avoided you. I’m afraid that one day you’ll see me for what I really am. And toss me to the side.”

For a moment, there is a pause between you two. A tense, unbearable silence that mortifies you. You squeeze your eyes shut, not because of tears, but because you’re so humiliated you can’t bear to witness it. And when you think he’s going to laugh or leave or call you stupid—hands, warm, kind hands, reaches for your head. Pulling you into an embrace.

And you open your eyes. Feeling him press you closer, harder. Face leaning into the crook of your neck. Strong palms placing over your back.

“I wouldn’t.”

Three words. Three. And it unravels you completely.

You feel his breath shaking against your throat. “I want you because you’re, you. Capable or incapable—I don’t care. I will always want you. Need you. Got that?”

And your shoulders drop.

Pushing your face into his chest. Hands that were hovering in the air comes to grab onto him. The once shallow aching you felt just a few moments ago dissipates and all you can truly feel is him. His warmth, his scent, his love. How he holds you, even when you’re pathetic. How he embraces you, even when he can just give up and dump a wreck like yourself. How he kisses the side of your hair, even when he feels you slightly tremble.

Your fingers clutches onto his shirt.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You press down a smile. “Idiot.”

“Maybe. But you chose this idiot, like I’ve chosen you. So don’t doubt me, or yourself anymore, got that?”

You nod. Cheeks bristling as you shift your head. Still pressed into his sturdy embrace.

“Got it.”

He presses you closer. Harder. Holding you so dear, you almost believe he’ll crush you.

“Atta’ girl.”

Summary: Zoro means it. He does. And he won’t treat your vulnerability like baggage, won’t see you as a patient but as a pillar. One that he’ll take care of so you won’t crack and bend. One that he’ll lean onto when his eyes grow heavy, one that he’ll need when inevitably, inescapably reaches to the top — and become the greatest swordsman. And when he does, he’ll want you there, need you there. So burden him, compromise his days and make his life a living hell, he does not care. Instead he challenges you for it. For both you and Luffy, he’ll after all; have to become the King of Hell.

“And how did you come to have two identical bills in your till at the end of the night?” he asked, his eyes dipping to the low neckline of the uniform before flicking back to your face.

“I don’t-” before the next word came out of your mouth, the tip of his golden hook was pressed to the underside of your chin in warning. He used the sharp tip to nudge your chin up further to finally look at his eyes, though he hadn’t pierced your skin.

“Don’t lie. I do not tolerate liars,” he growled, pressing his hook a touch harder into your chin, the skin still unbroken. You swallowed, your breath coming in short pants. He hummed with amusement before removing his hook from your neck and standing up, bringing his cigar back to his mouth. 

“It’s interesting. You see, I’ve had a problem for months now. Someone’s been counterfeiting money using my casino as a front,” Sir Crocodile explained, walking around you in a slow circle. 

“The methods used to cover the operation were clever, discreet. Never large bills, never more than a few a night, always spread among different waiters and the floor. It took me a while to determine what exactly was happening. Or rather, who,” Crocodile said, blowing smoke in your direction. You kept staring straight ahead, your spine straight as he detailed your downfall. 

“At first I suspected a rival casino or perhaps a pirate crew. Maybe even the Marines. Imagine my surprise when I finally discover the source of my frustration is a slip of a cocktail waitress in my own employ. As far as I could discover, you are not in leagues with anyone else. A free agent undermining my operations for your own gain,” Crocodile said, now standing immediately behind you. You felt the heat coming off his body, making you shudder with his nearness.

“And now I want to know why.” Crocodile brought his hook around your neck, the cold metal like a noose. Your breath hitched in surprise as he pulled you a step back, your back now flush against his muscled body. You stood no chance of making it out of the office alive, you thought, so you might as well tell him everything. He didn’t remove his hook from your neck as you took in a deep breath, the scent of his amber musk hitting your nose as you began explaining. 

“I - I’m not trying to undermine you, Sir. I didn’t - I don’t - I- I have a rare devil fruit, Sir,” not sure where to begin explaining why you ended up working in Alabasta for Sir Crocodile’s casino.

“Continue,” Crocodile said indulgently, like he was doing you a favor.

“It’s - I-” you stammered as you exhaled a shaky breath. You’d never told anyone about your devil fruit power, too afraid that you’d end up in a situation exactly like this. “I ate the copy-copy fruit. It allows me to duplicate anything non-sentient that I can hold in my left hand. When I use my power I can produce an identical copy in my right,” you explained, your breath fogging the gleaming gold in front of your face. Sir Crocodile hummed, his flesh hand coming to rest on the top of your head like you would a pet. If he moved in any direction, he could end your life, you thought with a gulp.

“That explains how, but not why,” he continued, his fingers grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. Now you were looking up at his face, his hook at your neck, and his now hard erection pressed into your back.

“I just…I needed more money. I - I’m from Dressrosa,” you began your explanation, twining your fingers together to keep your hands from shaking. You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, everything suddenly cold in Crocodile’s presence. 

“I see. Well you can tell Doflamingo that his little ruse has been discovered. Or rather, I’ll send him your head,” Sir Crocodile’s voice was clipped with anger and you felt particles of sand begin to swirl around your feet. The hook against your neck seemed to practically vibrate with bloodlust and the hand in your hair tightened until you whimpered. You were unable to look away from Sir Crocodile as his teeth gnashed the cigar in his mouth.

“N-no - please! It’s not what you think! I - I don’t work for anyone, not the King,” you pleaded, hoping he’d believe your words before he killed you. “I ran away from there. He- the King, he requires anyone with a devil fruit to register with the palace. Anyone with a useful fruit doesn’t come back. I didn’t - I tried to keep it secret, but I think someone reported me to his officers. There’s a reward for turning in devil fruit users. I fled before I was taken,” you explained quickly as Sir Crocodile’s eyes bored into your own. He tilted his head to the side as if in consideration.

“So why here?” he asked, a hint of interest in his voice.

“I thought - the King is one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. I wouldn’t be safe with the Marines, they’d just return me to him. I didn’t want to work for a pirate crew and I didn’t want to be discovered by Celestial Dragons. I thought that the safest place would be in the territory of another Warlord, that the King wouldn’t be able to directly interfere. I didn’t want to stay here, I just needed to amass a little more money. I can’t m-move jewels or gold without suspicion and it’s hard to stock up money quickly. I promise I wasn’t going to stay here and counterfeit for much longer,” you explained. Crocodile’s hand loosened in your hair as he played with the ends. His hook hadn’t moved.

“I couldn’t go to Fishman Island, can’t get to Amazon Lily, Dracule Mihawk and Bartholomew Kuma have no territory.”

“And what of Gecko Moria?”

“There is not much information and I was hesitant. I felt your domain was more stable, that I’d be able to – that I could make a life here. At least for a few months,” you finished as the dull section of his hook pressed harder into your neck. 

Why you thought you could outsmart Crocodile and duplicate money at his own casino you didn’t know. Duplicating money was trickier than people assumed, you couldn’t float too much or the banks would catch on. You couldn’t have too much either, otherwise it would attract attention to yourself. It was a delicate balance of duplicating smaller bills while exchanging them for real ones. Unfortunately, it turned out Crocodile kept immaculate records and the casino wasn’t as safe as it appeared despite the cash flowing in and out.

Warm sand was piling up at your feet and getting into the high heels that were part of the uniform but you didn’t dare move. The only sound in the room was your harsh breathing and the soft sound of sand piling up at your feet. After a few minutes of silence, Crocodile removed his hook and walked back to his desk in thought, making you want to sag in relief. He was still watching you with his unwavering gaze, your ordeal wasn’t over yet. Sinking back down into his chair Crocodile took out a kerchief and began polishing his hook.

“Show me,” he intoned, using sand to remove one of his hefty rings from his index finger. Your knees nearly buckled as you stumbled over the sand to go to his desk. He dropped the ruby ring into your open left palm and watched you expectantly. As desired, you held out both your hands, squeezing the ring in your left hand. A moment later a flash of light went off and an exact copy appeared in your right. You handed them both to Crocodile, your fingertips grazing his warm palm and you handed them back. He inspected the duplicate closely for a moment before his grin widened. You had a sinking suspicion you wouldn’t be leaving Alabasta any time soon.

“I’m not in the habit of leaving problems unsolved,” he said, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. He beckoned to you with one finger. You pressed your lips together, unable to quell the small whimper that left your mouth. Taking the few remaining steps to his chair felt like walking to the gallows. This was it, you were done for. A tear tracked down your face as you stood in front of Crocodile, hoping your demise would at least be swift. 

“I’m also not one to pass on opportunities as they present themselves,” he continued, steepling his fingers against his hook. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, you’re a clever little thing. Clever enough to fool me for a short while. Clever enough to save your life,” he said, patting his lap. Your eyebrows hitched together in confusion – did he really want–

“Your life was forfeit the moment you passed off counterfeit money in my casino. Be grateful I am allowing you the opportunity to serve me. Unless you'd rather I kill you,” he said with a shrug of a shoulder, like either option was equally as passable for him. You shook your head furiously and perched yourself on his massive lap, your eyes drawn to the gold chain around his burly neck. He drew his hook up to your cheek, making you flinch back. Crocodile grabbed your jaw in his hand and rubbed the cool metal down the side of your face, the urge to flee returning to you in spades.

“You work for me now. You do what I say, when I say to do it. Understood?” he said quietly into your ear, his breath warm on your neck. You nodded but Crocodile’s grip on your face only tightened. 

“Say it.”

“I work for you now,” you whispered. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you sat on the lap of a Warlord like a docile pet. He let go of your jaw and patted your cheek forcefully, enough that it turned your face.

“I’m pleased we’ve reached an understanding,” Crocodile said as he set you gently on your feet.

“Strip,” he commanded as he opened the humidor on his desk to select another cigar. Putting it into his mouth, he gave you a “come along” gesture, as if waiting for a show. With shaking hands you reached behind your neck to unzip the flimsy uniform, allowing it to pool at your feet. You weren’t in anything fancy underneath, just a cotton bra and panties meant for a comfortable shift at work. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, your arm unconsciously coming up to cover yourself fully.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Crocodile intoned, now lighting his cigar. You unclapsed your bra and slid the straps off your arms, letting it fall to the ground. You grabbed the elastic of your panties with trembling fingers and pushed them down to your feet. He’d said strip, so you reached down to unbuckle the uniform high heels when he stopped you. 

“Those stay on. Come here,” he said, beckoning you to the right side of his desk. You walked on wobbly legs to his side, sure you were about to experience something from your nightmares. You couldn’t contain your tremors as his hand reached for you, looking away from what was surely to come. Surely he was going to ravage you, to make you sorry you’d ever come to this sandy shithole…

What you didn’t expect was for Crocodile to put his hand behind your neck and guide you until you were bent over his desk, your torso pressed against the cool wood. He trailed his fingers up and down your spine a few times, your skin prickling in the wake of his large hand. He put his hand on the middle of your back and kept it there, drawing small circles with his fingertips.

“You can prove your worth to me by starting at the bottom rung of the ladder. As furniture,” he drawled, fingers lazily dancing up your spine. You tensed and shifted your weight but stopped as his large hand pressed you against the wood grain of the desk. His large, warm hand spanned nearly the entirety of your back, his fingers curling over your side.

“Relax. You’ll be there for a while,” he said with a puff of his cigar. Crocodile picked up the top paper off the stack to his right and began reading. That was…that was it? You were going to be bent over his desk while he worked?

“I don’t-” 

“Desks don’t talk,” Crocodile said mildly, tapping his hook on the middle of your back. Your mouth snapped shut. If this is what Sir Crocodile wanted, you could provide it. After all, this wasn’t so bad. 

At first. 

Because every so often, you felt a long, slow stroke up your naked cunt. Crocodile wasn’t playing with you, not exactly. He would run a fingertip slowly up and down your slit, making sure to avoid your clit the entire time. Or he would absently stroke the very inner part of your thigh, where it met your leg, while he read some document or other. Worst was when he would intermittently press the pad of his thumb against your hole, prodding gently but never entering you. You knew you were getting wet by the slow drip of your fluids down your legs, but you didn’t dare move from your position. Your breath came fast when he gave you attention but he always pulled away before you got too close to the edge.

It was an endless tease, punctuated by billowing smoke and annoyed sighs as Crocodile’s hand left your skin to pick up a pen. Occasionally he would run a finger through your cunt and use it to quickly flip through his papers, the lewd act making you flush as he conducted his business in silence. 

“Copy,” Crocodile intoned at some point in the late afternoon, placing a piece of paper in your left hand. You blinked and did as he said, the duplicate appearing in your right hand moments later. Crocodile took both of the copies and reviewed them without another word to you, though a wide smile and a pat to your head told you he approved of your work.

Not only were you reduced to sentient furniture,, but it was humiliating being naked as Crocodile conducted his business for the day. Everyone who came in got a full view of you bent over Crocodile’s desk, including other casino workers you knew from the floor. 

If anyone had something to say about you splayed over Crocodile’s desk, they didn’t say a word. You even saw the white high top boots of Miss All Sunday as she came into Crocodile’s office. Just like with everyone else, you’d steadfastly kept your gaze averted to the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.

“Quite the show,” she’d said, her voice dripping with amusement.

“She was the counterfeiter,” Crocodile said as he continued to flip through papers. 

“Oh? Just this little one?” Miss All Sunday said as you felt two hands brushing against the insides of your thighs. 

“Mmh. Works for me now,” Crocodile hummed, not taking the opportunity to explain anything further. You tensed your muscles and tried to move your legs closer together but found them immobilized by dozens of hands suddenly sprouting from the table. You nearly picked up your head from nervousness, remembering you were a table only seconds before disobeying Crocodile. 

“Calm,” he ordered, stroking the top of your ass with one thick finger. You wished you could stop those soft hands from touching you, but you were now well and truly stuck. Crocodile surely saw what was happening as he sat in his chair with you on the right side of his desk. The fingers inched their way to your sopping folds, stroking and teasing all the while. You bit your lip in preparation for their intrusion but felt only the warm large hand of Crocodile covering your core. 

“No,” was all Crocodile said, pushing the fingers away from you. Miss All Sunday laughed, a low tinkling sound, before she stood up from her chair. A hand sprouted in front of you, grabbing a cup of water off Crocodile’s desk. It delicately held the glass to your lips, allowing you to drink. You were thirsty from being there for so long but you tugged your head away from the glass. You’d only be doing expressly what Crocodile told you and nothing more. 

“She’s practically training herself. She’s waiting for your word,” Miss All Sunday purred, her crossed arms pushing up her already ample bosom. Another hand appeared and grabbed your jaw, immobilizing you from moving any further away. 

“Good girl. You may,” Crocodile said with a grunt, patting your ass like you were a pet. You drank from the crystal glass, the water running down your mouth as the fingers swirled delicate patterns into the sensitive skin of your thighs. The cup was placed on the table after you finished, the hands poofing into petals seconds later. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you to your fun. Your meetings are done for the day,” she murmured as she sashayed from the room. You felt little flower petals landing on your skin as the hands disappeared, leaving you alone with Crocodile once again. 

Over the course of the long afternoon, Crocodile continued working and ignoring your presence. At times, the only sound was the clock ticking in the corner and your own breath as he read and notated, humphing with displeasure at various line items. He had also continued to tease you, going farther than he had before his afternoon meetings. It felt like Crocodile’s fingers never left you, always pressing, stroking, and petting you. 

Once, Crocodile had decided to rub the slowest possible circles on your clit, his hand practically dripping with your slick every time he pulled it back to rifle through more papers. He was setting an impossibly slow rhythm, his fingers moving to some unnamed tune as he drove you to madness. 

Despite the lazy tempo, you felt the band in your lower belly tightening against your will. You wanted to rock back against his hand, grind to find some measure of relief but you held yourself still. Crocodile hadn’t given you an express order, but you didn’t need one to know that he didn’t want you coming without permission. You whimpered as he rubbed your clit between two of his thick fingers, the metal of his rings against your slick folds.

“Desks don’t make noise. I warned you once already,” he’d chided, pulling his hand away. You could have groaned from frustration, but bit your lips to keep from making any more noise. A few moments later, the cool metal of the flat of his hook ran up and down your spine. Goosebumps appeared where it had been, the late evening air chilling you even further. You heard the tinkling of metal behind you but you didn’t dare look back. 

Looking out the window, you saw the moon rising in the sky. Normally you’d be working the floor already, counterfeiting whatever small bills you could and mixing it in with your tips.Clearly that wasn’t in the plans for you tonight. After straightening a final stack of papers, Crocodile stood up from behind you and stretched. He pressed his hand down between your shoulder blades as he walked to the front of the desk, keeping you pinned.

“You did well as my desk,” Crocodile drawled, his fingertip running up your neck. You shivered, but didn’t reply. 

“Copy,” Crocodile demanded. You held out your left hand and Crocodile pooled his thick golden necklace into it. Immediately you created a copy in your right, holding the hand aloft. Crocodile picked up both, setting one on the table.

“You’ve been promoted,” Crocodile continued, as he handed you the other. Understanding what he wanted, you fastened the necklace around your neck, the warm metal heavy against your skin. Your head was picked off the desk as Crocodile slid his hook into the loose links, tugging your face upwards to look at his own. 

“Instead of being my desk, you are now my pet,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes. You were no fool, the necklace was a method of claiming you. Now you wore a golden necklace an exact match of his own, your collar secured by your own hand.

“And what do pets do?” he asked. You licked your lips as his flesh hand squeezed your cheeks. Much like a pet, you were unsure what to do with an inconsistent prompt – you didn’t think you could talk with him squeezing your mouth and you weren’t sure what the correct answer would be. Luckily, Crocodile didn’t seem to mind filling the gap for you.

“They obey their Master,” he replied. He removed his hook, allowing your head to drop back down on his desk. 

“So long as you obey me, you’ll have a wonderful life as my indolent little copy machine. And I have plenty of ideas on how to pass the time together,” he said, the heels of his shoes clacking on the cold tile of the floor as he walked back behind you. 

“Does that suit you?” he asked, his fingers stroking your skin once more.

“Yes, Sir,” you replied, your voice creaky from so many hours without use.

“Good, because you have a lot of work ahead of you,” he said, the dull metal of his hook running through your folds. “You’ve been soaking my desk,” Crocodile commented, his hook now pressed against your clit. You tried not to squirm and settled on shifting your weight from one side to another. 

“I know, I know. It’s been a long afternoon for us both,” Crocodile murmured with fake sincerity in his tone. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. As long as you’re mine, you’ll be safe,” he said as he leaned over you, covering your nude body with his own. His words were shallow comfort – you had no doubt you’d be dead before you could betray him again. You tensed as his warm chest brushed against your back, unsure what he would do. Crocodile pushed his fingers into your hair, tugging your head to the side. He placed a singular kiss over your carotid artery before disengaging his hands and standing back up.

You heard the sound of rustling fabric before something long, warm and hard smacked gently against your lower back. You couldn’t resist the urge – you looked backwards at Crocodile’s hard cock, your mind trying to imagine how it would fit inside you. You didn’t have to wonder for long as Crocodile picked it up and lined himself up with your hole, his foot kicking your legs wider apart. 

“You can take it. You’ve been waiting for it all day,” he said, his tip pressing against you. You took a deep breath as he pushed forward into you, your fingers gripping the edge of his desk tightly. His cock was massive, impaling you as he slowly pressed into you. The stretch was too intense, too much, too soon, but Crocodile wasn’t asking. 

“Breathe,” he ordered softly as he kept pushing forward. He stalled for a moment for you to take a shuddering breath before continuing to hilt himself within you. After a moment, he began again, until the front of his thighs met the back of your own. You felt his brocade vest on your back as Crocodile began shallowly pumping within you. You doubted it was kindness, but you appreciated him not wrecking you completely.

Crocodile fucked you much like he had toyed with you that afternoon, with a casual laziness that belied his own interest. He set a slow pace, pulling out nearly all the way before pushing himself back in. He placed his hook underneath you, giving you nearly enough friction against your clit as he pounded into you from behind. Tears were on your lashline with frustration, but you weren’t going to argue with the man who had your life in his hands. Your harsh breaths filled the room as Crocodile picked up the pace, his hips snapping against you. 

“Put your knee on the nnnh desk,” Crocodile ordered, pushing your leg up. Once you did as he ordered, the new position had him going even deeper within you. You couldn’t help yourself, you moaned loud and low as his cock filled you to the brim. Your core tightened around his length as he gripped your ass, pulling you down onto him as he fucked into you. 

Sweat dripped down your chest as the band in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. You bit down on your lip as Crocodile worked himself in and out of you, his grunts growing louder as he came close to orgasm. His fingers gripped you so tightly you knew you’d be bruised as he came deep inside you, his warm come dripping out of you. You were close yourself, so close, if he just kept himself inside and if he kept his hook right there and if…so close…

“Ah, ah. Your betrayal is fresh in my mind. Pets have to perform to be rewarded,” Crocodile sneered, pulling out of your spasming cunt and removing his hook. Your chest was heaving as the orgasm slipped away from you, your body hot with unreleased tension. For as much as you wanted to protest, you merely sagged against his desk, allowing yourself to catch your breath. You felt his eyes on you as he used his fingers to push his leaking come back into your sopping core. Your pussy pulsed around his fingers as he pushed them inside, but Crocodile merely laughed. Crocodile then wiped himself with a handkerchief but made no move to clean you up in any way.

“Let’s go. I want you to make your appearance at the Casino in your new role,” he said, helping pull you to standing. You felt exposed, not only because of your nudity but also because of your combined fluids dripping down your thighs. It almost felt like a branding you wouldn’t be able to remove, no matter how clean you got. Crocodile opened his humidor and selected another cigar, lighting it with practiced ease. A billowing cloud of smoke obscured his face as his hand rested on the back of your neck.

“May I please wear my uniform?” you asked timidly, looking at your clothes pooled on the floor. Crocodile scoffed, ashing his cigar into the Bananawani jaws.

“Of course not. You’re done with those cheap rags. You may don this,” he said, draping his large green coat over your slimmer shoulders. Your shaking fingers gripped the edges, pulling it closed over your naked body. Crocodile tipped your jaw upwards, kissing you deeply on the lips before pulling away. 

🐊crocodile🐊

the dim light of the casino office filtered through heavy curtains, casting shadows over crocodile's imposing frame. he lounged in his high-backed chair, shirt unbuttoned to reveal the scars crisscrossing his broad chest, a cigar smoldering between his fingers. you knelt between his spread thighs, your hands steady on his belt as you tugged it open. his dark eyes watched you with a mix of amusement and hunger, but tonight, you held the reins.

"think you can handle this, little one?" he rumbled, voice like gravel.

you didn't answer with words. instead, your fingers wrapped around his thick cock, already half-hard and heavy in your palm. it throbbed as you stroked slowly, base to tip, feeling it swell under your touch. crocodile leaned back, exhaling smoke, but his breath hitched when you leaned in and licked the underside, tongue flat and teasing.

you worked him methodically, sucking the head into your mouth while your hand pumped the shaft. his hips jerked once, but you pulled back just as his muscles tensed, his cock twitching on the edge. "not yet," you murmured, blowing cool air over the slick tip. he growled, hand fisting in your hair, but you swatted it away, climbing onto his lap to straddle him.

grinding against his thigh, you guided his cock to your entrance, sinking down inch by inch until he filled you completely. the stretch burned, but you rode him slow, clenching around him deliberately. his hook arm braced against the chair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. you felt him pulse inside you, close, so close—then you stopped, stilling your hips just in time to leave him straining.

"fuck," he snarled, trying to thrust up, but you pinned his shoulders, rolling your hips in shallow circles that kept him teetering. again and again, you brought him to the brink—sucking him deep until his thighs quaked, riding him until pre-cum leaked steadily—only to deny release. sweat beaded on his forehead, his usual composure cracking as he begged in low, broken tones.

finally, you sank down fully and didn't stop. your pace turned relentless, slamming onto him as he shattered, cum flooding you in hot spurts. but you kept going, grinding through his oversensitive shudders, drawing out every twitch until he was gasping, overspent and trembling beneath you. his cock softened inside but you milked it anyway, waves of aftershocks ripping through him until he could only clutch at you, utterly undone.

🍷mihawk🍷

the castle's master bedroom was a sanctuary of shadows and silence, broken only by the soft creak of the four-poster bed. mihawk lay propped against the pillows, his golden eyes fixed on you with that piercing intensity, coat discarded, shirt open to expose the lean muscles of his torso. you traced the lines of old scars with your fingertips before dipping lower, unfastening his trousers.

his cock sprang free, long and elegant like the man himself, veins prominent under pale skin. you wrapped your hand around it, stroking with a firm grip that made his jaw clench. leaning down, you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head while hollowing your cheeks.

You built the rhythm carefully, deep-throating him until his breath came in sharp bursts, his abs tightening. just as his fingers tightened in your hair, signaling the edge, you released him with a pop, watching his cock bob untouched, flushed and leaking. "patience," you whispered, kissing along his inner thigh, nipping the sensitive skin.

straddling his hips, you positioned yourself and slid down slowly, savoring the way he stretched you, filling every inch. you rocked gently at first, then faster, chasing the friction while keeping him on that razor's edge—clenching when he swelled, slowing when he groaned. his hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, as you edged him mercilessly: pulling off to stroke him lightly, then mounting again, over and over.

his control frayed, low moans escaping those stern lips. when you finally let him tip over, you rode him through his climax, his cum spilling deep as his body arched. but you didn't relent, continuing the grind, forcing him past the peak into overstimulation. his cock jerked inside you, hypersensitive, drawing pained gasps from him as you wrung out every last drop, leaving the world's greatest swordsman wrecked and panting in your arms.

🎪buggy🎪

the clown's dressing room was a riot of colors and chaos, mirrors reflecting buggy's painted face as he sprawled on the vanity chair, pants shoved down. hod cock stood rigid, a stark contrast to his usual flamboyance, tip already glistening. you smirked, kneeling to trace your tongue along its length, making him jolt with a theatrical yelp.

"h-hey, careful there! that’s my treasure you're handling!" he blustered, but his voice cracked as you sucked him in, bobbing your head with sloppy enthusiasm. his hands flailed in excitement, but you grabbed his wrist, pinning it down while your mouth worked him relentlessly.

he bucked, close already—too close—so you pulled away, squeezing the base to stave off his release. buggy whined, a high-pitched sound that dissolved into curses. "you teasing little—i was so close!" you ignored him, climbing up to rub your arousal against his thigh, then guiding his cock inside you with a swift drop.

the fit was snug, his thickness hitting deep as you bounced, setting a pace that had him babbling nonsense. you felt him throb, ready to explode, and halted, lifting just enough to let him slip free. edging him like that—stroking until he begged, fucking him shallow then stopping—turned the showman into a mess of pleas and squirms.

when you finally allowed it, you slammed down hard, his cum erupting in messy jets that coated your insides. but you kept riding, fast and unforgiving, his oversensitive cock spasming with each thrust. buggy's hips buck in panic—hands gripping your thighs, feet kicking— as overstimulation hit, forcing whimpers and shudders until he was a boneless, giggling wreck, utterly conquered by your command.

You were so tired of wandering the barren walls of Crocodile’s ship, convinced you had memorized every wood grain of every board that made up this boat. By the fourth pass by his office door this evening you thought maybe this was your chance. 

For days you had been begging for him, every moment you had in private you were running your hands along him, trying to press up against him, anything to try to draw him in. But nothing would work. His excuse of being overworked and exhausted had been reasonable, he was at Cross Guild meetings every day, coming home and shutting himself in his office until the wee hours of the morning, but it had been so long since you had touched him you were sure he was craving it at least half as much as you were. 

The heavy office door made such a pleasing sound when you tapped your knuckles against the door, pausing for a second before hearing his low voice beckon you in. “Hi” You poked your head in, watching him look up just enough to see you before looking back down at the weighty document that sat in front of him. 

“If you’ve come to whine about when I’m going to fuck you, I can make it quick. I have about 200 pages of some agreement the clown insists is a ‘bonafide’ venture for us to pursue, so I have no time for you.” You tried to not let the last part cut too deep, knowing he was overextended and hadn’t been sleeping much. But if you could just convince him somehow, you knew for a fact he would feel so much better. 

“Can I help?” You tried to keep your toe soft, stepping past the threshold of his office and closing the door behind you. The wood was cold on the bottoms of your feet, your fluffy socks doing little against the frosty waters cooling the bowels of the ship. He looked up at you, fully, pausing to pull his cigar from between his teeth as he racked his eyes over you. You had intentionally come down in a nightgown he had bought you, the deep purple fabric hugging you in all his favourite ways. ”I could make you a coffee if you wanted, to help you stay awake.” You stepped closer to him, even going around his desk when he didn’t immediately stop you. “But that might make falling asleep even harder for you.” He hummed, his cigar back between his teeth as he lowered his gaze back to the legal document in front of him. You stepped behind him, thankful for how low he kept his desk chair so you were able to reach his shoulders. “Is this okay?” You asked, leaning forward so he could feel your warm breath puff out over his ear. 

“Yeah” You silently began working the tension out of his shoulders, your fingers struggling to push deep enough into his tissue to make much of a difference but when you heard him groan you knew you were somehow helping. Slowly you worked your fingers up to his neck, digging your fingers into his dense muscle, rubbing circles with your thumbs on his bare skin. “Why do I feel like you have ulterior motives for doing this?” You could feel the vibrations of his voice in your fingers as you moved them back down to his shoulders. 

“If by ulterior motives you mean, I want to help you relax, then yes Sir you bet I do.” He grumbled at your use of the title, loving the way it sounded in your mouth. 

“Were you always so sly?” He asked, taking his cigar out of his mouth and leaning his head back so he could look up at you. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You pressed a kiss to his forehead, moving your hands to comb through his slicked back locks, the gel beginning to break down and leave behind his well taken care of hair. He closed his eyes, sighing as you pressed kisses along his hairline. “I’ve missed you.” He hummed, which was the closest thing you’d get to him saying he had missed you. 

“To be clear, your advances haven’t gone unnoticed.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your lips that were pressed to his forehead. “But I know if we start, there’s no chance my work is getting done.” 

“You’ve been working 12 hour days for the last month, I think you can spare an hour or two for some self care.” He sighed like the weight of the seas rested solely on his shoulders.

“You have no idea how untrue that is.” You felt him begin to fidget, slowly pulling his head up which was your que to move away. “I’m sorry kitten” He reached around and grabbed your hand in his, tugging you to his side so he could see you, his eyes scanning over you as he chewed the tip of his cigar “and you look so pretty for me” you nodded, looked up at him through your lashes. He moved his large hand from your wrist to your body, running from your stomach up to your breast, thumbing your nipple through the thin material before dragging it up your neck, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I wish I didn’t have to work..” There was a sadness in his eyes, something you hadn’t ever seen there before. It was different from your moments of intimacy, where he looked at you with what you can only assume is love, this felt like remorse, remorse for having to choose work over you. 

“It’s okay,” You pressed your face into his palm, holding onto his forearm with both hands as you savoured this moment of quiet contact because you weren’t sure when you would next get to experience it. “I’ll leave you to it then.” Kissing his palm before guiding his hand away from your face as you stepped away from his desk, “Try to get at least a little bit of sleep.” You looked back at him as you paused at the door, noticing the way he opened his mouth for a second like he was about to say something, giving him time to decide. 

“You can stay…If you want.” 

“You don’t mind?” He looked down at the papers in front of him

“I don’t.” It was late but you weren’t about to turn down the only invite you’ve gotten from him in who knows how long. You walked over to the elaborate couch he had opposite his desk, taking up your spot in the corner and watching as he worked. 

After a few quiet moments of you watching him, you couldn’t help but shoot your shot. “Y’know,” You paused, waiting until his eyes met yours, an eyebrow quirking when he saw the look in your eyes. “If all you’re doing is reading, you could read over here.” You patted the crushed velvet cushion next to you. 

“Why do I feel like I’m not going to get much reading done if I accept?” Despite the question that went answered, he pushed himself up, gathered the papers and walked over to the couch. He sat down, next to you, his hooked arm over the back of the couch, resting the stack of paper on his knee. 

Everything about his proximity was driving you crazy, his cologne, the smell of his hair gel and watching his ringed fingers turn page after page. As you chewed the inside of your lip you scooted closer to him, leaving against the side of his chest and bringing your legs up against the soft fabric. At first you had started reading the words strewn across the pages, trying to follow the legal jargon being used but when you felt his arm wrap around you, holding you tightly against him you were reminded of the yearning between your legs. 

Very slowly you ran a hand across his chest in what you hoped appeared to be a soothing gesture, rather than that of longing. But he knew you too well to assume your touch was anything other than a pleading gesture, but despite that, he didn’t stop you. Your hand moved across his wide chest, following the lines of his muscles as you slipped lower down his stomach but stopping at the hem of his vest. Every part of your brain was screaming at you to go lower, to slip your hand beneath the waist of his dress pants, to run your hand along his cock. And gods you wanted to, you’re confident you had never wanted something so badly before in your life, but you forced yourself to abstain, knowing the Guild had become something very important to him and you didn’t want to get in the way of that. “I wouldn’t stop you.” His words came out so casually, a puff of sweet cigar smoke flowing from his mouth and down over the papers. 

“You wouldn’t?” You moved so you could look up at him, watching as his lilac eyes scanned line after line not stopping to meet your gaze.

”As long as I can still read, I won't stop you.” As if a gun had just been shot, you jumped to your knees, hands on his chest to support you as you moved to straddle his wide waist. He moved his head from side to side as you positioned yourself, your fingers working quickly to undo his belt, then his button, then his zipper. His underwear sat low on his hips, a dark treasure trail leading down past the fabric, beckoning you to follow it. ”Don’t think I’ve ever seen you so determined.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, finally watching you pull the waist of his boxers up enough that you could fish out his cock.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was half hard, the moment he had sat on this couch he knew where the night was going. He knew you were completely unable to resist him when he was so near, knowing the moment you leaned against him that he had you right where he wanted you. 

When you finally pried him from his pants, he let out a long low groan, missing the feeling of your hands wrapped around his cock. He tried his best to focus on the pages, and when your hands left him he thought he may be out of the woods. That is, until he saw you hiking your dress up over your hips, exposing your bare cunt to him. 

He opened his mouth to protest, but when you raised yourself up onto your knees and rubbed his swollen head against your soaked entrance he couldn’t stop the long moan he was too slow to smother. 

“I knew you m-missed me.” You sighed, rubbing him between your folds enjoying the way he was struggling to hold the pages steady behind you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He huffed out, the words barely slipping from between his clenched teeth. 

“I’m ah I’m keeping your cock warmmm.” You slowly lowered yourself down, his cock head pushing past your ring muscle with the sting of stretch. 

“Fuck you’re too tight.” He pinched his eyes closed and his jaw clenched. 

“It’s fine I’m s-stretched.” It was taking every ounce of your self control to not sit straight down on his cock but you knew it would be too much. “Just lemme get it all in then I’ll stop b-othering you.” Piecing your sentence together was a struggle, the feeling of his length stretching you more than your fingers ever could was causing your brain to blank. 

When you finally sat against him, his cock nestled between your tight walls you laid against his chest, a shaky sign leaving your body. “You settled now?” You nodded, one hand feeling your lower stomach, half expecting to feel him bulging out of you. 

The sound of his heartbeat steadying as you leaned your head against his chest lulled you into a sleep you didn’t even realize you needed. His hooked arm wrapping around your waist to keep you against him while his hand flipped page after page. 

You didn’t know how long you had been asleep but you awoke to the sound of a heavy stack of papers falling on the ground, his hand rubbing down your back slowly. “Fuck kitten.” He groaned quietly into your hair, his lips moving against your head as he raised his hips to push himself somehow deeper. “You’re so good at keeping my cock nice and warm.” You blinked sleepily, looking up at him through heavy lashes. 

“Are you all done?” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Think you can get up on those knees of yours and ride me?” You pressed your hands to his chest, supporting yourself against him as you pushed your body up onto your knees, his cock sliding out of your hole. “Take it real slow kitten, I won’t last long as it is.” 

His eyes were focused down at your cunt, watching it sink down on his cock. The curved side of his hook ran down your back, pressing into the small of your back and making you arch into him. “Touch yourself.” He leaned back, his hips bucking up as he relaxed into the couch. He loved watching you do all the work, his eyes following your hand as it slid down your stomach, your fingers slipping down until your clit was between your index and middle fingers. You moved them slowly, rubbing along either side of the sensitive bud as you rode him. “How’s it feel?” 

You nodded, furrowing your brows as you pinched your eyes closed in an attempt to put together a coherent sentence. “It feels…fuck it feels as good as the first time.” His hand moved from your hip to your cheek, drawing you into a kiss. It felt like it had been years since he had kissed you like this, tongue sliding along yours as he groaned into your mouth. “Croc” you whispered as he swallowed your words “Will you cum inside me?” He didn’t answer right away, just smiled against your lips. 

“Only if you cum first.” You nodded, his lips overtaking your own again, ending any further conversation. The combination of your fingers moving against your clit, his tongue entertaining with your own and his cock bullying its way against your cervix, it didn’t take long for you to clench around him as the crashing wave of orgasm overtook you. 

Your legs tensed, slamming you down and taking him as deep as he could go. Your walls quivered around him, ushering him to his own climax. The air was knocked from his lungs, the pleasure overtaking his body entirely as he filled you with his cum. The feeling of warmth flooded you, and just when you thought you could never feel more full then you did, he just kept going. His hips thrusted up into you, each thrust weaker than the last until they slowed and you could lay limply against him. 

“Fuck” was the only word he could produce, all others seems too far away. He rubbed his hand along your back, not minding the thin layer of sweat that had gathered on any exposed skin. “Kitten, let’s get you up.” He leaned forward, speaking directly in your ear. 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“I’m not ready to move yet.” Your voice was raspy, clearly you had been louder than you realized. 

 “I want to get you cleaned up before bed.” Your eyelids feel heavy and the stiffness in your hips was beginning to morph into a pain. “I’ll run us a bath and then we can get some sleep.” A bath sounded so nice, you wanted to tell him how badly you wanted that, but words were just out of reach. 

⋆ RORONOA ZORO coasts his fingers over your clit while you’re straddling his lap, the rest of your body practically melting into his chest. he keeps you perched on his thigh, fingers lazily gliding over your clit, thumb rubbing soft, circular patterns that tease your soaked pearl without pressure. he murmurs, “fucking… sensitive, huh,” low in his throat, letting his other hand rest heavy on your hip to keep you steady. his heavy sighs punctuate each lazy stroke, and “take your top off,” he mutters mid-stroke, thumb pressing heavier as if the motion itself requires authority. he’s already warm from sparring earlier, chest pressed against your back, sweat cooling slowly. he tilts his wrist, alternating pressure, drawing soft shivers from your thighs. sometimes he tilts your hips subtly to catch your angle better, muttering, “so stubborn,” when you can’t help but arch into his touch.

⋆ VINSMOKE SANJI lies stretched out beside you in bed, shirt unbuttoned, tie half-hanging from his collar, cigarette abandoned in the tray because even he knows smoke is a distraction when he wants you all to himself. he starts slow, brushing his knuckles against your thigh as if he’s testing the water, before murmuring against your ear, “my angel… can i?” and when you nod, he slips lower, lips leaving little kisses down your belly until he’s settled between your legs. his lips find your folds before his fingers do, pressing messy kisses along the slick seam, then directly onto your puffy clit. he lingers, open-mouthed, kissing it again and again until you twitch, every exhale hot against you, his blonde hair tickling your thighs. he looks up through thick lashes, heart-shaped eyes staring into yours, completely undone just by the sight of you whimpering just for him. “mon amour… you’re already trembling… so sensitive, hm?” his fingers trace slow, lazy spirals over the rim your clit. he kisses your clit again, slower this time, tongue peeking out to trace lazy spirals. his nose nuzzles the softness around your mound, and he presses another kiss. every movement is paced as if he wants to stretch the moment until morning, punctuated by little sighs of happiness when you tremble. he tilts your pelvis slightly to deepen the contact, dragging the tip of his finger in wide circles, teasing the folds around it. every little shiver you make earns a soft, “ahh… my darling…” as he presses a fingertip gently against your entrance to draw another gasp. his free hand slides up to lace with yours, bringing it against his cheek as if he can’t bear to touch you without holding you too. eventually he crawls back up, chest flush against yours, face pressed into your neck, whispering love-drunk nonsense like, “can’t believe i get to touch you… can’t believe you let me taste you.” one hand still lazily toys with your clit under the sheets, slow circles that never stop, even when his mouth finds yours again.

⋆ PORTGAS D. ACE sits behind you, letting you lean back into him while his long fingers lazily trace circles on your clit. his other hand roams, fingers fanning over your belly before slipping up to cup your breast, heat bleeding into your nipple until it tightens under his palm. he doesn’t stop at circles. he slides two fingers lower, dipping inside, then pulling them back out so slick coats your clit before pinching it lightly, holding just enough heat to make the nerves thrum sharp and sweet, the heat of his fingertips making you twitch helplessly. “fuck… so wet… didn’t even have to try,” he mutters, half to himself, half to you, nipping at your neck while his cock ruts lazily against your lower back. he leans his cheek against your neck, whispering, “so good… feelin’ you like this…” his thumb glides over you with perfect slowness, drawing out whimpers and soft arches of your back. he pauses to drag his wet fingers across your folds, then presses them to your mouth, murmuring, “taste… taste how good you are for me.” he lets overstimulation creep in without ever forcing you to the edge too fast. he traces a tiny circle around your clit with one fingertip while the other taps lightly. “bet you didn’t think i’d figure that out, huh?” he says, pride bleeding through even now. the heat of his fingertips leaves your cunt tingling every time he lifts them, then burning again when he presses back down, like your body can’t decide if it’s begging for more or trying to crawl away. he gets cruel with it, blowing cool air over your ear while his fingers burn slow circles into your clit, laughing softly at how quickly you melt. “overheating already? poor thing… you should know better than to sit in my lap if you didn’t wanna end up dripping like this.” his grin is wide, shameless, his fingers lazily smearing your slick across your clit, letting the contrast of heat and wetness blur your thoughts while he hums happily, clinging to you tighter than he needs to.

⋆ FLAME EMPORER SABO fingers tracing the outline of your cunt through the soaked lace of your pink panties. his touch is light, maddeningly patient, dragging the pad of his finger up and down the damp seam while he murmurs, “sweet girl… so soaked already and i haven’t even touched you properly.” his voice is low, teasing, the kind of tone that makes your hips shift without you meaning to. he keeps his gloves off, fingertips warm but not scalding the way ace’s are, but just enough to make the lace cling when he presses in circles over your clit. he smirks when you whimper, rubbing lazy spirals with two fingers over the fabric until the lace darkens completely. “ruining these just for me? you like making a mess, huh, sweet girl?” he coos, leaning down to kiss your neck, his lips brushing over the spot just under your jaw as his hand keeps circling, deliberately slow. he chuckles when you squirm, murmuring, “don’t pout, sweet girl… you’ll get what you need if you beg a little prettier,” before dragging another slow circle that makes the wet spot spread further. only after you’re whining into his chest does he finally hook a finger under the lace, pulling it to the side with a deliberate slowness that makes you shiver, thumb pressing directly onto your slick clit as he adds, low and smug, “now let’s see how much prettier you sound without these in the way.”

⋆ TRAFALGAR D. WATER LAW sits propped up against the headboard, book cracked in one hand, the other lazily buried between your thighs. your bare body draped over his lap, cheek pressed against the slope of his chest, you can feel his heartbeat beneath the ink along his skin while his fingers circle your clit as he starts rambling about some convoluted panel in a comic you couldn’t care less about. “the pacing’s terrible here,” he mutters, his fingers pinching your clit gently, sharp enough to make you gasp and stay awake, “they spend three whole pages on exposition when it should’ve been a single spread.” he doesn’t break rhythm, circling lazily, pressing occasionally, making you whine as your thighs squeeze shut around his hand. he licks his thumb absentmindedly before circling your clit again, slick and saliva mixing shamelessly, muttering, “better. now stay with me, yeah? don’t pretend you’re not listening.” he flicks lightly against your pearl, the jolt making you clutch his hoodie sleeve, and he only chuckles low in his throat, thumb resettling into lazy circles while he turns another page with his free hand. “so… wet for nothing,” he traces delicate lines across your folds, letting your desperate, overstimulated noises fill the room. whispering, “so needy… pathetic, aren’t you?” dragging out every twitch and shiver. “stay awake for me. listen,” he drawls, dragging the words out as he drags his finger along your swollen clit, “you’re the one who said you wanted to spend more time with me. this counts.” he leans down briefly, brushing his lips over your forehead in the most careless, tender gesture, then sinks back into the pillows, resuming both his comic analysis. when you whine, he glances down, eyes sharp and amused, snapping the book shut with one hand. “tch. needy brat,” he says softly, thumb rolling your pearl between finger and pad, nails grazing just enough to sting. then he leans down, lips brushing your ear, whispering, “guess my stupid nerdy comic isn’t the only thing keeping you awake.” his fingers never stop, lazy and precise, dragging you through overstimulation while he pretends you’re the one interrupting him.

⋆ EUSTASS KID doesn’t bother with the soft, drawn-out lead-in everyone else gives you. he’s already got you stripped and spread across his lap, metal-studded hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, the other holding a little bullet toy he swiped from some unfortunate vendor last island. he sneers when he presses it against your clit through the thinnest veil of lace, the motor kicking to life with a brutal buzz that makes your thighs snap shut instantly, only for him to wrench them apart with ease. “fuckin’ knew you’d squirm,” he growls, eyes glittering mean and hungry, lips twisted into that sharp grin. “cry about it, ain’t stoppin’ just ’cause you can’t take it.” he pushes your soaked panties aside with the rough drag of his fingers and plants the toy directly on your swollen pearl, pressing it down so hard it almost aches, the vibrations rattling straight into your belly. you claw at his chest, nails dragging over metal and leather, begging him to slow down, but he only laughs, “don’t get shy on me now. you’re already dripping all over.” his thighs flex under you, shifting you higher against the unrelenting buzz, and when your legs shake, he clamps his metal hand tighter around your waist to keep you from escaping. tears prick at your eyes, the toy already too much, too sharp, too fast, and he eats it up. “yeah, that’s it,” he says, leaning in close, teeth scraping your ear. he doesn’t give you a break. when your clit throbs too raw, he grinds the toy in harder, circling it like he’s trying to burn the shape into your skin. when you cum, jerking and half-sobbing, he only cranks the speed higher, laughing against your neck, voice shaking with his own arousal. “thought that was it? you’re not done ’til i say you’re done.”

The rope bit deeper into your wrist as Crocodile pulled it taut with his hook, locking you in place. You tried to twist free, but the motion only made the fibers grind into your skin, leaving you panting, body helplessly exposed.

“Perfect,” he muttered, low and rough, crowding in until his chest pressed you flat to the wall. The scent of smoke clung to his coat, to his breath, as his mouth grazed your ear. “Now you can’t run from me.”

His free hand shoved up your skirt, knuckles brushing your soaked heat through the thin fabric of your underwear. He chuckled when you gasped, thumb pressing down hard enough to make your hips jolt. “Already dripping? Tch. Pathetic.”

With a vicious tug, he tore the fabric aside and sank two fingers into you, stretching you with a deliberate cruelty that made you whimper. His pace was merciless, fingers crooking to hit that spot that had your knees buckling—if not for the rope, you’d have collapsed.

The cold curve of his hook traced your thigh, sliding higher, dragging over your clit in slow, taunting circles until you cried out. “That’s it,” he rasped, grinding his cock against you through his trousers, the hard length of him unmistakable. “You sound better when you don’t hold back.”

When you begged, breathless and broken, he finally undid his belt. His cock pressed against your entrance, hot, thick, unyielding as he pushed in inch by inch. The stretch burned, delicious and overwhelming, your body clenching helplessly around him.

Crocodile growled against your neck as he bottomed out, hips flush to yours. His hook curled under the rope, tugging it tighter until your bound wrist ached, every nerve screaming. “Feel that? Every time you squeeze around me, the knot pulls tighter.”

He fucked you into the wall with brutal precision, every thrust forcing your cries louder, every snap of his hips shaking you apart. The rhythm was relentless, his hook tugging at the rope in time with his thrusts, binding you more and more to him.

“Look at you,” he gritted, sweat beading along his brow, his voice sharp with lust. “Nothing but a mess on my cock, dripping down your thighs, begging me to ruin you.”

When you broke—crying out his name, shattering around him—he held you pinned, rope biting, hook digging, cock buried deep as he spilled into you, claiming you with every last thrust.Crocodile’s smirk returned as he finally let the rope slacken, your trembling body collapsing into his hold. “Told you,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Once I’ve caught you… there’s no escape.”

It wasn’t your fault he was so tall.

Or so broad. Or so handsome in that cruel, dangerous kind of way that made your thighs press together under the desk when he gave you the briefest glance.

But it was your fault that you were squirming now—half-draped across his silk-covered bed, robe slipping from one shoulder, too shy to say the words that burned on your tongue.

Crocodile leaned against the doorframe, still dressed down for the evening. His shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows, cigar between his teeth, watching you with half-lidded amber eyes.

"You're quiet tonight," he said lowly, taking the cigar from his mouth. Smoke curled from his lips. “Too quiet. What is it you want?”

Your breath caught. He always knew.

You averted your eyes, clutching at the sheet beneath you. Your thighs clenched again, involuntarily. He caught the movement, of course. He missed nothing.

“You've been sweet all day,” he said, voice a slow drawl now, heavier with something darker. “Batting your lashes at me, wringing your hands. Thought I wouldn’t notice how flustered you got when I stood behind you at the meeting?”

You whimpered—small, embarrassed, but unmistakably aroused. God, why was he always so calm? So in control?

He stepped closer. His shadow fell over you as he approached the bed. “Come now, dove. You’ve got that look in your eye again. Say what you want.”

Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “I—I can’t.”

Crocodile tilted his head, then smirked. “You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I’m…” You squeezed your thighs together. “I’m just… embarrassed.”

He set the cigar aside on a tray, then reached for you. A hand brushed your chin up gently, forcing your gaze to meet his. The way he filled your vision, how large his frame was compared to yours—it made your heart race. His presence was magnetic. Heavy. Made your insides flutter.

His voice dropped. “Do I look like a man who’s interested in you hiding from me?”

Your lip quivered. “No, Sir…”

Something tightened in his gaze at that. He hummed. “Good girl.”

That praise made your stomach flip. You whimpered again, softer this time, your body betraying you. Crocodile’s thumb dragged across your lower lip.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he murmured. “How often you bite your lip when you get needy. How your little breaths change when I touch your back or brush your waist? You don’t hide it well, sweetheart.”

You burned. Every nerve alight. “I don’t mean to…”

“I know.” He leaned in, his voice brushing your ear. “That’s what makes it so cute.”

And then his mouth was on your neck, sharp teeth grazing your throat, tongue flicking the tender place beneath your ear—teasing you, stoking your heat. His hand slipped down, slow and firm, splaying over your hip, fingers curling possessively around the softness there.

You gasped. “Sir…”

“There’s my girl.” He pulled back to look at you. “What is it?”

You hesitated. But his hand dipped lower.

“Say it,” he coaxed, voice rougher now. “You want my fingers? My cock? Both?”

You whined, eyes fluttering shut. “Y-Your fingers, please…”

“Mmm.” His hand smoothed between your thighs, nudging them open with no effort. “You ask so nicely when you try.”

He pressed two fingers against your soaked folds through the thin lace of your panties. The noise you made was helpless—half-gasp, half-moan.

“Oh,” he murmured with a dangerous smile, voice soaked in amusement. “You’re soaked, darling. Been worked up all day, haven’t you?”

You nodded, too ashamed to speak, and he clicked his tongue.

“Sweet little thing,” he muttered, “always so shy about how filthy you really are.”

And then his finger pushed— thick, unrelenting—right past the edge of your panties, sinking into your wet heat with a practiced ease that made your whole body arch. You cried out, hips jerking.

“Sir—!”

“I know,” he soothed, stroking deep inside you, then curling—finding that spot that made you shiver. “But I’m gonna need you to say more.”

You trembled, mouth open, legs twitching around his wide body. “I—I need more, please—”

“More what?”

“More of your fingers,” you choked out, flushed and breathless. “Please, Sir…”

He rewarded you instantly—another finger, another roll of his wrist, his palm nudging your clit with every deep thrust. Your body writhed, and he held you down with a single arm like it was nothing.

“Good girl,” he praised again, gravel in his tone now. “Learning to ask for it.”

You could barely breathe. His fingers were thicker than yours, rougher, filling you better than anything else ever could. You whined, hands clutching at his shirt now.

“You gonna come for me like this?” he asked, kissing the side of your face. “Just from my fingers?”

“I—I think so—”

“Then say it.”

You moaned, high-pitched, flustered beyond belief. “Please let me come, Sir…”

He groaned. “There it is.”

And he sped up—his fingers fucking into you with more force now, palm grinding deliciously over your clit. The coil snapped fast. You came with a sob, clenching around him, legs kicking weakly against his hold. He didn’t stop until you were twitching, overstimulated and limp, your voice reduced to gasps and tiny whimpers.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, he admired the slick coating his , then slipped them into his mouth and sucked.

You blushed crimson. “That’s…”

“Perfect,” he said, licking his lips. “And we’re not done.”

You barely had time to recover before he was undoing his belt—slowly, giving you a show, his massive frame looming over you again. When he freed himself, your mouth dropped open. You swallowed hard.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, almost mockingly sweet. “Unless you ask for otherwise.”

You blinked up at him. “Sir…”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“…Harder. Please.”

He growled. “You’ve gotten bold all of a sudden.”

You gave him a shy smile, still trembling. “You trained me well.”

He loomed over you now, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock dragging against your entrance.

“Damn right I did.”

And with one slow, thick push—he buried himself inside you, inch by inch, until he filled every part of you and then some. You sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed. He cursed under his breath, arms braced on either side of you.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed. “Like you were made for me.”

You were too full to speak. Too small beneath him, completely taken. But you managed the only words he needed to hear:

“Please, Sir…”

His mouth twisted into a slow smirk, but there was nothing mocking in it—just hunger. Deep and wild behind the usual cool control.

“You don’t know what those words do to me,” he growled, pulling back just slightly before driving forward again. Not hard, not yet—but deep. The stretch knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your body arched beneath him, your legs trembling as they wrapped around his waist instinctively. “F-Fuck—”

He grunted as he bottomed out again. “Language,” he murmured against your throat, voice low and threatening. “Say Sir.”

You whimpered, barely able to breathe. “S-Sir—!”

“Good girl.”

And then he moved—steady at first, long strokes that pushed you into the mattress, his hips pressing into yours with heavy, deliberate force. Each time he buried himself fully, you felt your walls flutter helplessly around him. He was too big—deliciously too big—and it felt like he was rearranging you from the inside out.

His hand—huge, calloused—slid under your thigh and pushed it higher, opening you even more.

The new angle made you cry.

“There it is,” he growled. “That’s the sound I want.”

His rhythm grew faster. Rougher. You clung to him with both arms, nails dragging lightly over his shoulders as he fucked into you like he was claiming you.

“Say it again.”

You blinked up at him, eyes glassy. “W-What?”

His hips snapped forward, and your whole body jolted. “Say what you need.”

You moaned, desperate and dizzy, your voice thin. “Harder, Sir—please—!”

He groaned, pleased, and gave you exactly what you begged for. Now he was slamming into you, heavy hips hitting yours with each punishing thrust. The bed creaked. The headboard thudded against the wall in time with the sharp, wet sound of your bodies meeting again and again. You were shaking, your moans climbing higher with each thrust.

“I can’t—” you gasped. “It’s too much—”

“It’s never too much,” he growled. “You can take it. You want to take it. So take it, sweetheart.”

And you did. You took everything.

He bent over you, chest to chest, his golden hook anchoring beside your head while his other hand curled beneath your jaw, forcing your teary, fucked-out gaze to meet his.

“You’re mine when you fall apart,” he said, voice low and ragged. “Say it.”

You sobbed, clinging tighter. “Yours, Sir—I’m yours—”

He kissed you like a man starved—deep and claiming, stealing your moans right from your throat. Your body convulsed beneath him. You came hard—with a cry muffled by his mouth, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing his cock, and he cursed low and vicious.

“Fuck—just like that,” he growled. “You feel that? How tight you get when you say my name?”

You were whimpering now, broken by pleasure, barely coherent. “Sir—Sir—”

“I’ve got you,” he said, thrusts growing uneven, rougher, more desperate. “Let me fill you up. Let me mark you from the inside out.”

You couldn’t even nod. You just said, breathless: “Please…”

And he snapped.

With a final growl, he slammed deep and held there—his body trembling as he emptied inside you. Heat spread through your core, thick and slow. You felt every drop of it. He stayed there, panting against your throat, his weight anchoring you in place. You could feel his heart pounding.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of both your breathing. Your soft whimpers as your body twitched through the aftershocks. His low groan as he finally—gently—pulled out.

You whimpered at the loss. He immediately leaned in to soothe you with kisses, rough fingers brushing damp hair from your face.

“You did so well for me,” he said softly, cradling your cheek. “Didn’t even need to tease it out of you this time.”

You smiled weakly, flushed and trembling. “I think… I like it when you tell me what to say.”

He chuckled low in his chest. “Of course you do.” And then, quietly: “Don’t move. I’ll run a bath. Then you’ll eat something. Then I’ll have you again.”

You laughed into his chest, dazed and boneless.

“I didn’t realize I am with a tyrant.”

“You are with a man who waited too damn long to call you his.”

You turned your face up to him. He caught it in his hand—gentle, slow, reverent—and kissed you again.

"you know you love the attention i give you." his thumb strokes your bottom lip "tell me to stop? as if i'd listen to your pathetic begging. you're stuck with me, baby." his grip tightens slightly "i know you dream about me too..my words, my touch..."

"…and the way I make you feel right here." his hand drifts lower, tracing a slow path that has your breath catching, the air between you charged and heavy. "don't even try to deny it."

your mouth opens agape ever so slightly, but no sound comes out. his thumb lingers at your lip, pressing just enough to keep you silent, his eyes locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmured, leaning in so close you could feel the brush of his breath against your cheek. “you can pretend you don’t want this all you want, but i see the way you look at me.”

your pulse hammered in your throat, but you couldn’t move—not when he was holding you like this, not when his presence felt like it was burning through your defenses one by one.

“say it,” he ordered quietly, the words low and sharp. “say you hate me. i want to hear it.”

you swallowed hard, but your lips barely moved. “i… hate you,” you whispered, though it lacked any real conviction.

he smirked like he could taste the lie. “mmm, you don’t sound so sure, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with dangerous satisfaction. “but that’s fine. i’ve got all the time in the world to prove you wrong.”

his grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch as he leaned even closer, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “and trust me,” he whispered, voice low and dark, “i will.”

his grip on your face remains, his long fingers digging into your skin. he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across your lips. his piercing eyes bore into yours, a twisted smirk playing on his full lips.

"you know you want this, don't you?" he lets out a dark chuckle, his free hand trailing down your neck slowly, making you shiver. his grip becomes more bruising as he pulls you flush against his muscular frame. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

"you're mine, accept it."

"over my dead body."

you glare up at him, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. every part of you is trembling, but you refuse to back down, even with his grip still locked on you.

"i'm not yours."

his eyes widen slightly at your defiant response, but then a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "oh really now, is that how you want to play it? you think you can defy me?" his free hand trails down your body, fingers digging into your flesh. "i own you, your pathetic attempts at resistance only make me want you more." he bares his teeth in a feral grin.

"but if you insist.... i'll be happy to put you in your place." he yanks you towards the bed, grip unyielding and searing against your skin. you stumble forward, your heart leaping into your throat as you try to find your footing, but the pull is too strong, too sudden.

“ah!” you yelp, the startled sound escaping before you can bite it back. your body collides with his chest for a brief moment before the back of your legs bump sharply against the edge of the mattress. you flinch, your knees buckling slightly as you’re forced to sit down, his towering presence blocking out any thought of escape.

his eyes bore into yours, unblinking and dark, filled with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. he doesn’t let go of your wrist; instead, his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you who’s in control. he leans in slowly, deliberately, until his face is only inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and laced with satisfaction. “so quick to fall into place.” his other hand comes up to cage your chin, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze. the mattress dips under his weight as he inchescloser, hemming you in completely, his presence suffocating and overwhelming.

you squirm beneath his stare, your breath coming out uneven, but he doesn’t move back. instead, his lips curl into the faintest smirk, as though your resistance only fuels him further.

he crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you try to resist, turning your head, but his grip on your throat tightens, forcing you to submit. he devours your mouth hungrily, groaning into the kiss as his free hand roams your body, squeezing and groping.

"that's it, stop fighting me. you know you love this." he hums, breaking the kiss, only to trail biting kisses down your neck, leaving angry red marks. "i'm going to ruin you. make you scream for more."

“n-no…” you breathe out weakly, though your voice barely holds any strength behind it. your hands clutch at the sheets beneath you, fingers straining around the fabric as his lips press bruising kisses down the curve of your neck, each bite making your body tremble despite the words spilling from your mouth.

“stop… i…” the protest dies in your throat, coming out as a broken whimper. you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece with every mark he leaves behind. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your pulse thundering as though it’s trying to break free from your ribcage.

you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to sound defiant even as your voice shakes. “i hate you,” you whisper, though the way your body leans into his touch betrays you completely.

he chuckles against your skin, the sound dark and knowing. his hands trail down your sides, pinning you firmly in place as you finally stop fighting back, your body going slack beneath him.

“sure you do sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his lips ghost over your ear. “stop pretending. you love every second of this, and now…” his teeth graze your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “…you’re mine.”

you let out a shaky breath, your resistance dissolving completely as his words sink in. you can’t fight him anymore, not when you know, deep down, that a part of you doesn’t want to.

sensing your surrender, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he continues his assault on your neck. "that's my good girl," he growls approvingly, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "i knew this tight little pussy would be nothing but a sopping wet mess for me once i got you going." his hand slides down between your thighs, fingers probing at your dripping slit through your clothes.

"mmm, you're so wet already. i've barely even touched you." he chuckles, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. "can't wait to feel this sweet little cunt wrapped around my cock." he tugs at your shirt, tearing it open to expose your breasts, the sound of fabric tearing making your breath hitch. your hands instinctively come up to push him away, but they falter halfway when the cool air hits your exposed skin, goosebumps prickling across your body.

“w-wait—!” you gasp, your voice trembling as your sensitivity spikes from the sudden exposure.

he doesn’t wait. his hands slide firmly along your sides, holding you in place as he buries his face against your chest. the warmth of his breath against your skin makes you shiver, and your fingers curl helplessly into the sheets beneath you.

a startled, broken sound escapes your lips as you feel the press of his mouth against you. every nip and scrape of his teeth against your sensitive bud sends sparks racing through your nerves, your back arching despite yourself.

“please…” you manage weakly, unsure if you’re begging him to stop or begging for more. the way your body trembles tells him everything he needs to know.

he hums low in his throat, the vibration rolling through your skin, and you can feel the smirk forming against you. “so sensitive,” he murmurs darkly, his hands gripping your waist to keep you still. “you can pretend you hate this all you want, but your body doesn’t lie.”

your breath comes out in short, uneven gasps, every brush of his lips leaving you weaker, the creeping hand coming closer to your hot hole, your walls of resistance finally crumbling.

"ngh..." your thighs clamp together, slick with arousal, so disgusting. you think. he lets out a guttural groan as he feels your thighs trapping his hand, your arousal soaking through the fabric. "that's it, squeeze those beautiful legs around me." his fingers press harder against your slick folds, rubbing you through your panties.

"you want this so bad, don't you?" he lifts his head from your chest, eyes darkening with lust as he gazes down at you. "don't worry, i'm going to give you exactly what you need."

his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs roughly. he tosses them aside, his eyes raking over your bared pussy. he leans in, inhaling deeply. "fuck, you smell so good." he presses open mouthed kiss to your slick folds, tongue darting out to taste you.

"mmmm~ i knew you'd be sweet," he murmurs against your sex, the vibrations sending shivers through you. he peppers your clit and entrance with hungry kisses, then sucks it into his mouth, tongue laving and teasing the sensitive nub. "take it, bitch…let me feed on your cunt." he groans in satisfaction as he slips a long, calloused finger into your dripping pussy.

he swirls it around slowly, feeling your slick, velvety walls clenching around him. at the sudden insert of his slender fingers you your mouth contorts into an "O", letting out a sharp and lewd moan.

"that's it, scream for me." he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm. "your pussy is milking my fingers so damn good." he curls his digits, stroking your most sensitive spot relentlessly. "i bet you wish this was my cock filling you up, don't you?" fuck. you were close. at his words your hole clenched even tighter, you hated the way how he made you feel right now.

"oooooh you naughty girl, i can feel you clenching harder around me." he grins, leaning in to suck hard on your clit. "noooooo!" you cry out, your voice breaking as you try to twist away from him. your hands press weakly against his shoulders, but there’s no strength behind them anymore.

"don't fool yourself, baby." he pumps them in and out at a relentless pace, curling them to stroke your most sensitive spots. "thaaat's it, let it all out. cum for me, you filthy slut." he sucks hard on your clit, tongue swirling around the engorged nub. "i want to feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, coating them in your sweet juices." he increases the speed and pressure of his ministrations, determined to wring an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

as your body convulses in ecstasy, he wraps his strong arm around your hips, pulling you flush against him as he rides out your orgasm with you. he presses his lips to your ear, whispering dark, filthy praise as you tremble. "that's it, cum for me like the dirty girl you are." his fingers continue to pump in and out of your overstimulated pussy, drawing out your climax for as long as possible. "look at you, shaking apart in my arms. you're so fucking perfect when you let loose." he kisses the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine

he removes his fingers from your dripping pussy with a wet pop, leaving you aching and empty. "i'm going to make you beg for my dick before i even consider giving it to you." he leans down, nipping at your earlobe. "now be a good slut and spread your legs for me. show me how much you need to be filled."

your legs part slowly, almost of their own accord, every movement heavy with reluctant compliance. a rush of heat spreads through you as you feel the weight of his gaze, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the space between you grows smaller.

he gently takes your wrist, guiding you to lie back against the soft surface of the bed. his hands move with deliberate care as he settles between your parted legs, the warmth of his body pressing close to yours.

slowly, he leans down, his chest hovering just above yours, and his breath fans across your skin. his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of intensity and something softer beneath it all. his hands find your hips, steadying you as he adjusts his position, anchoring himself in the missionary stance. the closeness between you is electric—every heartbeat, every breath shared in this intimate space.

"'m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours yeah?" he grins sadisticly, enjoying the view of your fucked out, overstimulated face. "yeah?" he repeats once more in a mocking tone. your eyes were clouded, you had never been touched before like that. "mmmhm..." was all you managed to get out, your slick pussy twitching every few seconds.

a spark ignites in his eyes—dark, wild, and almost feral. his lips curl into a slow, sadistic smile that sends a shiver down your spine. there’s a dangerous thrill in the way he looks at you now, like he’s been holding back something fierce, something that’s finally been unleashed. the smile promises intensity, a mix of chaos and control, and you can’t help but feel both terrified and drawn to it.

he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he slowly pushes his thick, throbbing cock into your dripping pussy. he moves agonizingly slow, relishing the feeling of your velvety walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth. "fuuuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he sinks in to the hilt. "that's it, take every inch of me." he pauses, allowing you to adjust, before beginning to rock his hips in a slow, deep rhythm.

"hah—your pussy is practically sucking me in. it's like it was made for my cock." his pace quickens slightly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. "i knew you'd be the perfect fit for me." he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to match the tempo of his thrusts.

the bruises blooms under his palms as he powers into you with recklessness. the force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce with each impact, the hard, pebbled nipples dragging against his chest. "fuck, i love the way your tits bounce for me." he breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he forces his face between your heaving mounds. he sucks one nipple deep into his mouth, biting down gently while his fingers tease the other.

"taste those sweet little nips. you're so sensitive for me." meanwhile, his hips never pause in their relentless pounding, his thick cock stretching you open with every thrust. his balls slap against your clit, the rough contact sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. "looks like a good pounding was all it took to make you behave, hmm?" he alleges you with his teeth and tongue as he drills into your pussy, made even steamier by the image of his tongue laving your nipples.

"look down. see how my cock is splitting you open? how your needy cunt is clinging to me? you were made for this, baby. fuck..... you.feel.so.fucking.good." his words are punctuated by the slap of flesh and your ragged moans as he fucks you senseless, visually ravaging you in the process.

he pulls back to meet your gaze, his eyes blazing with dark lust as he drives his cock deeper, the thick head rutting against your cervix. "you reek of my dick." he grinds into you harder, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he chases your impending climax. "that's right, cum on my fat cock. coat me in your sweet juices like the willing breeding bitch you are." with one hand, he presses down on your stomach, fingers sinking into your sweat-slick skin as he watches your body tremble on the edge.

muffled moans escape your lips as he continues to pound into you mercilessly, prolonging your orgasm as he fills you to the brim with his thick seed. the sensation of his hot cum flooding your depths triggers another wave of intense pleasure, and you instinctively clench around him, milking him for every last drop.

"ah—fuck yes! fucccck!!!!" you cry out, your voice cracking from the sheer intensity of the moment. your back arches sharply against the bed as your fingers dig helplessly into the sheets, knuckles turning white. your entire body trembles, every nerve alight as the sensation crashes over you in waves, leaving you breathless. your lips part again, another strangled moan slipping free as you can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your throat.

"take all of it, you fucking dirty little cumslut." with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his release spurting deep within you.

your chest heaves as you ride out the overwhelming rush, eyes fluttering shut while the world blurs around you. the aftershocks leave your muscles weak and trembling, a soft whimper escaping as your body goes slack beneath him.

your eyes are glazed over, unfocused, the world around you little more than a blur. your mind feels blank, too overwhelmed to process anything but the warmth and weight above you. he leans down slowly, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips find yours. the kiss is deep, consuming, and you melt into it without a thought. your body reacts on instinct, lips parting as his tongue brushes against yours. the taste of him is dizzying, and your hazy mind can barely keep up as he presses harder, hungrier.

a soft, helpless sound slips from your throat as his mouth claims yours completely. drool slicks the corner of your lips, mixing with his as neither of you pulls away, his tongue plunges into your mouth to tangle with yours. the taste of your combined saliva and the lingering flavor of your shared climax mingles on his lips and tongue as he devours you.

he groans into your mouth, still rocking his hips slowly to prolong the exquisite sensations pulsing through both your bodies. his hands roam your sweat slicked skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he pulls you impossibly closer, needing to feel every inch of you against him.

when he finally does break it, a thin strand still connects your mouths, and you’re left gasping for air, eyes dazed as he stares down at you with that same wild, satisfied gleam.

"every inch of this tight little body belongs to me." he sums you up, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, your sated, well-fucked expression, before his eyes darken with continued hunger.

— BLADE, aventurine, boothill, MOZE

"you're mine. you just don't remember it yet."

✧ “you’re mine,” he whispers, voice soft but dripping with a twisted certainty that makes your blood run cold. “you just don’t remember it yet.”

your breath hitches, and you stumble back, your shoulders hitting the wall. “what are you talking about?” you demand, though your voice cracks halfway through.

his eyes narrow, amusement flickering behind them like a predator who’s cornered its prey. “don’t you feel it?” he steps closer, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch you retreat. “that ache in your chest… that fear in your eyes? it’s because some part of you knows.”

your heart races, a nauseating panic blooming in your stomach as he raises a hand to your face. you flinch, but he only cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with mock tenderness. “you used to look at me like i was your whole world,” he murmurs, leaning in until you feel his breath ghost your ear. “and you will again. i made sure of it.”

your throat tightens, the words barely scraping out. “w—what did you do to me?”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your skin as he presses closer. “i took away what hurt you. i took away the doubts, the lies… all the things that made you want to run from me.” his lips hover at your ear now, and his voice drops to a near growl. “and now, you’re starting over. with me. exactly where you belong.”

your knees weaken as his grip shifts to your hips, holding you firmly in place. his eyes search yours, but it’s not affection you see there—it’s possession, complete and unrelenting.

“i’ll make you remember,” he says softly, almost sweetly, though his fingers dig into your skin like iron. “and when you do… you’ll thank me for it.”

his body presses close, but his movements are jittery at first, like he’s not sure if he should be this close. his breath is uneven, and you can see the faintest flush creeping up his neck as he towers over you, but he doesn’t move away. instead, his hands tighten against your sides, pinning you softly but firmly between him and the wall.

“i… i don’t want to scare you,” he mumbles, voice trembling slightly. his eyes dart away from yours for a second, like he can’t bear to see the fear in them—but then he steels himself, leaning in closer until there’s no space left between you. “b-but you keep trying to leave me, and i can’t… i can’t let that happen. not again.”

you feel the tremor in his hands, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it grows stronger, a quiet, desperate strength that keeps you trapped in place no matter how you try to squirm away.

“p-please stop fighting me,” he stammers, though his words carry a weight that doesn’t leave room for refusal. “i’m not… i’m not letting go. you’re mine. you always were…” he swallows hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, “even if you don’t remember.”

he buries his face against your neck suddenly, shuddering as though just being this close is too much for him to handle. but then you feel the soft press of his lips against your skin, hesitant at first, before they grow more insistent.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath shaky and warm against your neck. “i’m so sorry i have to do this… but you’ll understand soon. i’ll make you remember how much you need me.”

his arms wrap around you now, crushing you to his chest as his quiet, shaky breaths mix with the frantic beat of your heart. and though he trembles with nerves, there’s no mistaking the unrelenting strength in his embrace.

without another word, he crush my lips to yours, his mouth hungry and desperate, his tongue probing deep into your mouth. he kisses you like he's starved for air, as if he'll die if he didn't taste you right now.

as you kiss, his hands roam over your body, grasping and clawing at your skin, leaving scratches and marks that would linger long after you're done. he pulls you closer, his fingers digging into your hips before he spin you around, pushing you against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as he fumble with your clothes, tearing them off with a desperation that's almost savage.

and when you're naked. your eyes widen at the sight and immediately attempt to cover it with your shaking hands. "no—!" you yelped before he removed your hands forcefully, brows furrowed. "let me taste, please." he begs softly, and for an instant you almost fold, almost.

you watched his eyes travel down to your glistening folds, he swallows hard, the sight making his hands tighten instinctively on your thighs. he hesitates for a moment, almost shy, his gaze flickering over the soft patch of hair framing your heat. the contrast only makes you look more vulnerable, more real beneath him.

“y-you’re… beautiful,” he murmurs shakily, his fingers brushing gently along the edge of your hip, like he’s trying to memorise everything about you. in the heat of the moment his mouth and tongue instantly begin exploring your pussy, licking and sucking with a ferocity that's almost animalistic.

he look up at you, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity, mouth still wrapped around your pussy. "i'll make you remember," he whispers, his voice husky and raw. "i'll make you mine, forever and always." he breathe, his hot breath whispering against your twitching cunt as he continue to devour you with fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

then he suddenly pauses, lifting his head from your glistening pussy. he gazes up at you with a mix of hunger and reverence, his hungry eyes drinking in the sight of you. slowly, almost tauntingly, he leans in, his warm breath fanning over your tender flesh. he presses a delicate kiss to your clit, lips lingering for a moment before grazing the sensitive nub with my teeth. a soft moan escapes him at the taste of you before he wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you closer.

you only got louder with the lustful sensation of his warm, slippery tongue grazing against your puffy pussy. a guttural moan escapes your lips as he works you over with his insistent tongue. you can feel your pussy clenching rhythmically around nothing but air, your body trembling with mounting pleasure.

he memorised every curve, every dip and swell of your body as his tongue began to explore, tracing the delicate folds, dipping into your entrance, and swirling around your clit in slow, teasing circles. his hands roam over your thighs, your buttocks, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

he work at your pace, savouring every gasp, every whine, every tremble that escapes your lips. with each pass of his tongue, he prays that he could bring you to the heights of pleasure, to make you surrender completely to his devotion. yes, what an ideal plan.

a desperate, feverish hunger consumes him as he presses his face further between your thighs. his tongue flicks and swirls against your slick, swollen folds, his lips sucking and nibbling hungrily. he just could not get enough of your intoxicating taste and the way your body quivers under his ministrations.

with a soft moan he flattens his tongue and drags it firmly up the length of your pussy, applying firm pressure to your sensitive clit. your back arches, pressing you harder against the wall as he holds your trembling thighs in a vice-like grip, pinning you in place. his dark, feverish eyes glare up at you, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every desperate sound that escapes your lips. he wants to devour you, to make you scream his name as you come undone beneath his skilled, relentless mouth.

he plunges his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with long, firm strokes, my nose nuzzling against your clit. the obscene, wet sounds of the wet slurps fill the air as i lose myself in the task of bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

his single-minded focus remains fixed on your dripping, quivering sex, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive flesh as he continues his frenzied assault. with a lewd moan, he extends his long, slender finger, teasing the slick entrance to your core. your eyes widen at the sight, oh no, he's totally gonna finger me!

"wait! i dont—i don't want—" you plead, shaking your head in a frenzy but he pays no mind and slides it inside you with a slow, deliberate push, savouring the tight, hot glove of your pussy as it grips his finger. his thumb finds your aching clit, rubbing quick, tight circles that make you shudder and cry out.

feeling your walls clench around his invading digit, he begins to pump, driving his finger in and out in a slow and gradual rhythm designed to drive you wild. his free hand reaches around to palm your ass, giving it a hard squeeze as he tilts his head upward, giving you his all and undivided attention with his doe eyes despite both the pain and pleasure on your throbbing, dripping slit.

humming with carnal pleasure, he picks up the pace, finger fucking you with abandon as he lap at your clit and savour your essence with his tongue. his eyes blaze with a feral intensity as he devours you, his inner world consumed by the dark, primal need to make you come apart at the seams.

he curls his finger, pressing firmly against your most sensitive spots, his tongue flicking your swollen clit in time with his strokes. he can feel your climax building, your whole body coiling tighter with each passing second.

"cum for me, (y/n)," he rasp, his words punctuated by the obscene, wet sounds of his relentless finger fucking. "i want to feel you shatter around me."

with every filthy word that spills from his merciless lips, he could feel the dam inside you beginning to crumble. your once reserved demeanor is replaced by a desperate, insatiable hunger for physical release. "ohoohhh, yessss! just like that, mmmyeeeaaah! eat my pussy, make me cum hard! finger me, im getting close..!"

the admission spills from your lips like a dam breaking, a cathartic moment of surrender that leaves you helpless and exposed, a willing slave to the dark desires that now consume you entirely. and in that moment, he knows that he has truly broken you—a delicious, irreparable ruin, forever altered by the power of his uncompromising, all consuming lust.

"don't stop, don't you dare, don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop—ahnnnng! i'm—I'm—CUMMMINGGG!"

he continues his febrile licking and stroking as you dissolve in ecstasy, savouring the sweet nectar of your release and milking every last tremor from your convulsing body. as your body tenses and a guttural moan escapes your lips, he feels your orgasm beginning to wash over you. his tongue flicks your swollen clit with frenzied intensity, lapping up the slick arousal dripping from your pulsing pussy.

he looks at you with satisfaction, the sound muffled against your flesh as he drinks you in. his finger curls and rubs relentlessly against that sweet spot inside, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches and your thighs clamp around his head. your trembling cries of ecstasy fill the air as you shatter, your walls clenching and fluttering around his digit.

he continues to work you through the aftershocks, slowing my pace but refusing to relent until your body finally goes limp, quivering from the intensity of your powerful climax. only then does he pull back, gazing up at you with dark, hungry eyes, his lips glistening with your essence.

before you can process what could possibly happen next, his arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you down with him. the impact is sudden but controlled as he lowers you both to the floor, never letting you slip from his grasp.

you gasp softly, your palms pressing against his chest for balance as he leans back, propping himself up slightly. his strong hands guide you easily, settling you astride his lap. the floor beneath you feels cold and unsteady, but his grip on your hips is anything but—it’s firm, possessive, like he’s anchoring you in place.

he looks up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling against yours. “stay right there,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding. his thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, not to soothe you but to remind you he’s the one holding you where he wants you.

you try to shift, to lean away, but his hands tighten instantly, holding you down with an unrelenting strength. the closeness makes your heart race, your body trembling as his gaze roams up and down your figure, lingering with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“don’t move,” he whispers, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he pulls you closer still, until you can feel every inch of his solid frame beneath you. “you’re exactly where you belong."

"you don't know what you're doing to me," he murmurs, voice gravelly with something dangerously close to reverence. his cock pulses against your stomach, hard and insistent. only now do you notice how...pretty his cock is. pale with a flushed pink tip, not too girthy but more so long...about 6 inches hard? and his veins?

you wonder how it would feel to be stretched out by him.

you suddenly snap out of your trance with his hands grabbing onto your wrist, grip tightening as he guides them to his cock with slow, deliberate movements. his breath comes heavier now, the edge of control slipping as you touch him. "god, you feel good," he whimpers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. but don't you dare stop.

he watches you, his expression unreadable, but there's a hunger in his stare that makes your pulse race. every movement you make, every flick of your wrist, sends a jolt through him. he leans into your touch, letting out a guttural sound that's all pleasure.

a string of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth as he watches you work, his breathing becoming more labored with each stroke. his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact. he's lost in the sensation, in the way your soft hands feel against his throbbing length.

"fuck, he groans, his voice strained. "just like that. don't stop...." his hands slide up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. he grips your shoulders, pulling you closer until your breasts press against his chest. his eyes are glazed over, consumed by lust, and he isn't hiding it. he arches into your touch, his cock pulsing in your grip.

your fingers dance across his skin in rapid succession, teasing out every last drop of pleasure from him. his hips jerk upward involuntarily as you stroke him faster and faster still. you know he's close, his breaths quickening with each stroke before it hits you.

with a porn star-worthy moan, he thrusts into your hands, his hips snapping upward as his orgasm rips through him. hot cum splatters across your breasts and neck, painting your skin with evidence of his desire. his body shudders violently, muscles tensing and relaxing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him.

"fuck!" he gasps, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. as he finally gets a good luck at his mess on you he chuckles. "look at you. covered in me. how cute..." slowly, he opens his eyes, taking in the sight of you marked by his release. a predatory gleam flashes in his gaze, a mix of satisfaction and renewed hunger. he reaches out, swiping a finger through the mess on your collarbone before bringing it to his lips.

"delicious," he purrs, savouring the taste. your breath stutters as you watch him, your cheeks burning hotter with every second. you can barely process the sight of his finger glistening in the low light before it disappears past his lips.

“d-don’t…” you mumble, your voice trembling, barely audible. the haze clouding your thoughts makes it hard to think straight, and your body feels heavy, pliant under his touch. he tilts his head at your weak protest, that same dark intensity glimmering in his eyes, but there’s a hint of something softer there too—like he’s savoring every bit of your flustered reaction.

his hands slide up from your hips to your lower back, holding you snugly against his chest. “you’re so cute when you’re shy,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

with his fingers still against your back, and you feel the change instantly. the warmth in his touch vanishes, replaced by something firmer, unrelenting. his hands grip your hips suddenly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he looks up at you with a sharp, burning gaze.

“enough,” he snaps, his voice deeper now, leaving no room for argument. “i’ve been patient with you… too patient.”

you freeze, wide-eyed, but he doesn’t let you move. his hands pull you down harder onto his lap, his strength impossible to fight as his breath comes heavy against your neck.

“no more hesitation,” he growls, the words vibrating through your chest. “you’re going to take me now… every inch.”

“w-wait—” you try, but his hold on your hips tightens, cutting off any chance to scramble away. “no,” he says firmly, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “you’re done running. you’re mine… and i’m going to make sure you feel that.”

in one fluid motion, he flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand trails down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. when he reaches your core, he pauses, his fingers hovering just above where you need him most.

"beg for it," he commands, his voice a dark whisper. "tell me how badly you want my cock inside you." his eyes bore into yours, filled with challenge and barely restrained desire. he wants to hear you say it—to admit how much you crave him, how empty you feel without him filling you completely.

his thumb brushes against your clit, teasing, torturing. he's waiting, watching your reactions intently, ready to take you apart piece by piece if necessary. his other hand slides lower, two fingers plunging into your wetness without warning. he curls them, stroking that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge.

"o—okay, please fuck me..."

without another word, he sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust. your walls stretch around him as if welcoming him home. he stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you.

"shit," he breathes, hands travelling up before cupping your breasts. "always so perfect. so tight." then he moves, setting a punishing pace. each snap of his hips drives him deeper, harder, chasing the pleasure only you can give him. his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your neck, tasting salt and sweat and pure, undiluted need.

"that's it," he pants against your skin. "take it. take everything i give you..." as he thrusts into you, his cock disappears inch by inch into your slick, glistening folds. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room, mingling with the slap of skin on skin and your shared moans. his shaft stretches you deliciously, hitting depths no one else ever has.

each withdrawal leaves your pussy clinging to him, reluctant to let go. but he always pushes back in, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrates through both your bodies. your juices coat his length, making the slide easier even as he pounds into you relentlessly. his balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewd sound echoing in the room. he's lost in the rhythm, in the feeling of your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him tighter than anything he's ever felt.

in the heat on the moment he redoubles his efforts, his hips snapping forward with animalistic force. the bed creaks beneath you, threatening to break under his passion. his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider as he rails into your sopping cunt.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" you cry out, your nails raking down his back. the sting only spurs him on, driving him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper. pre-cum beads at the tip of his cock, mixing with your slickness as he pistons in and out. the room fills with the filthy sounds of sex—wet smacks, gasping breaths, the occasional whimper torn from your throat. he's lost in the feeling of your pussy milking his cock, begging for his seed.

as your climax hits, he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice. with a roar, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spills his load directly into your spasming cunt. his fingers find your nipples, pinching and twisting them roughly as he rides out the waves of his own release.

through it all, he keeps you pinned above him, his grip on your neck firm but not painful. his mouth crashes against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. he pours everything into it—his obsession, his possession, his twisted love—and when he finally breaks away, you're left gasping for air. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. he watches them fall, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

before you can catch your breath, he's rolling you onto your stomach. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress. the heat of his body hovers over you, his erection pressing insistently against your thigh.

"we're far from done," he growls in your ear, his teeth grazing the shell. "i'm going to ruin you for anyone else. by the time i'm finished, you won't remember your own name—only mine." he spreads your legs with his hands, lining himself up with your entrance once more. without warning, he sheathes himself inside you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. his pace is relentless, driven by a hunger that seems endless.

"mine," he repeats, like a mantra, with each powerful thrust. "all mine."

— jiaoqiu, PHAINON, IMBIBITOR LUNAE, dr. ratio, ARGENTI

"we're supposed to be competing, but last night i tasted your lips instead of victory."

✧/✧/✧/✧ you’ve been rivals for as long as you can remember, always neck-and-neck in every competition. whether it was training matches, missions, or public challenges, you pushed each other to be better—and tore each other down at the same time. the rivalry was infamous, and neither of you ever let the other forget it.

but underneath the sharp words and glares was something else, something unspoken. every heated argument felt like it teetered on the edge of something more, every accidental brush of hands lingered a little too long. you told yourself it was hatred. it had to be.

last night, though, everything cracked. the competition had been brutal, leaving you both battered and breathless. you’d cornered him, intent on taunting him for nearly losing—and instead, his mouth was on yours. the kiss had been fierce, messy, and desperate, and you hated how much you’d wanted it.

now, you’re back on the field, trying to push the memory away, but the ghost of his lips still lingers.

“we’re supposed to be competing,” you bite out, shoving past him as you pace the edge of the training field, your heart still hammering from last night’s mistake. “but last night…” your voice falters, the memory flashing behind your eyes—the press of his mouth against yours, the way you’d melted before you could stop yourself. “…last night i tasted your lips instead of victory.”

he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms folded lazily across his chest like he’s completely unbothered. but his eyes—sharp, predatory—follow every step you take.

“and?” he drawls finally, voice low and maddeningly calm.

you whirl on him, heat rising to your cheeks. “and it shouldn’t have happened,” you snap. “we’re rivals, not—”

he pushes off the wall in a single, fluid motion, closing the distance between you before you can finish the sentence. the smirk playing on his lips makes your stomach twist.

“not what?” he murmurs, voice a whisper against your ear as he leans in close. “not allowed to want each other? because if that’s true… we’ve got a problem.”

his fingers brush yours, barely a touch, but it sends a jolt straight through you.

his other hand slides down to rest possessively on your hip, pulling you flush against him. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the hard planes of his muscles pressing into your softer curves. "all that fire between us… it's not just from our rivalry. deep down, you know exactly what it is."

he leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks in a low, seductive rumble. "stop fighting it. stop pretending you don't crave my touch, my taste, the feeling of me buried deep inside you."

his words caught you off guard as you distance yourself from him slightly, giving both you and him barely enough space. "what?! are you crazy?!" you shake your head. "i do NOT want to be associated with you like that!"

“like what?” he smirks, that infuriating curl of his lips making your stomach twist. god, you hated that look. you hated him—every cocky word, every smug glance. and you were certain he felt the same; you were rivals, enemies on the field. so why… why does it suddenly feel like that’s no longer true?

he pushes you closer and you instinctively step back, your shoulder brushing against the doorframe of the gym.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it comes out shakier than you’d like.

he doesn’t answer, just keeps moving forward, each step purposeful and unhurried. his presence is overwhelming, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to run.

your back hits the edge of the door, and his hand comes up to push it open with ease. the door swings inward with a low creak, the quiet echo of the empty gym room swallowing the sound.

the bench was wide enough for both of you, its black, padded surface cool and firm beneath your thighs. the faux leather covering had that faint, distinct scent of gym equipment, slightly slick from the polish they used to clean it. the sturdy matte black steel frame didn’t budge, even as you shifted, the faint creak of the padding the only sound filling the room alongside your ragged breaths.

you try to sidestep him, but he’s already there, blocking the way. his hand presses lightly—yet firmly—at your hip, guiding you backwards, deeper into the dimly lit room.

“stop,” you whisper, but he only tilts his head, that maddening smirk tugging at his lips again as he continues to close the distance between you.

one more step and your back meets the cool wall of the gym, your escape completely cut off. his arm braces beside your head, trapping you there as he leans in, voice dropping low and deliberate.

“now,” he murmurs, eyes glinting, “tell me again how much you hate me.” he crowds into your personal space, one hand braced on the wall beside your head, the other coming up to wrap loosely around your waist. not squeezing, just a light pressure. his body pins you to the wall, all hard muscle and barely restrained power.

"your pulse is racing under my fingertips, princess. betraying your true desires." his voice is a low purr, sending shivers down your spine. "go ahead, say it. tell me you hate me while your body screams otherwise. while your nipples strain against your shirt, begging for my touch. while your thighs clench together, aching to be filled."

he rolls his hips against yours, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through the fabric of his pants. "c'monnnn loosen up a little..." he says, his tone light but his closeness anything but.we can't always be enemies forever right?"

you swallow hard, your pulse hammering as his breath brushes your ear. “g-get off me,” you manage, though your voice shakes, betraying you completely. a wicked grin spreads across his face at your words, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark promise. oh, i don't think so, you don't get to dismiss me that easily."

in a flash, he hooks a leg between yours, using the leverage to grind his thigh against your core. at the same time, his hand slides from your waist to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back sharply. "we're not enemies. we never were." he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "can't you feel it? this electricity between us, this undeniable pull…"

you can’t deny it—it feels good. better than you expected, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

he smirks against your skin, sensing your reluctant enjoyment. his thigh grinds harder against your core, the friction delicious even through the layers of clothing. "that's it, baby. just give in. stop fightin' this feeling." his free hand trails down your side, fingers splaying across your hip possessively. he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"im going to worship this body until you're trembling and begging for my cock. until the only word you remember is my name." he whispers in that damn sultry voice of his. he captures your lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and pent-up passion. it's dominating, consuming, leaving no doubt about his intentions. "mmmm, you taste even better than i imagined. sweet as honey and twice as addictive."

your breath hitches as his hands trail about, his touch firm yet unbearably slow. every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, but you’re frozen, unable to form the words to stop him. his gaze never leaves yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

emboldened by your lack of resistance, his hands begin to roam your curves more boldly. one palm cups and squeezes your breast through your shirt, thumbing your nipple roughly. the other hand slides down to grope your ass, kneading the firm flesh and pulling you harder against his grinding thigh.

"fuck, these tits… i've wanted to get my hands on them for so long." he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. marking you as his. "gonna make you feel so good, gonna ruin you for anyone else." his fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip underneath, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before sliding higher to fully cup your breast.

he groans appreciatively as his calloused palm envelops your soft breast, relishing the weight of it in his hand. his fingers pluck and roll your nipple, coaxing it into a stiff peak. "mmm, sensitive aren't you? love how responsive this pretty little body is…" he ducks his head, capturing a hardened bud between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. he laves it with his tongue, wetting the material and creating delicious friction.

his other hand continues its exploration, dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your pants to trace the upper swell of your ass. "bet you're getting wet for me already, aren't you baby? i can practically feel the heat radiating from your poor aching pussy."

you let out a breathy moan as his fingers tease my sensitive skin, your head falling back against the wall. "a-ahh…" your voice is needy and shaky, betraying how much you're enjoying his touch despite your "hatred". the pads of his fingers circle your nipple slowly, drawing out the sensation. you gasp softly, back arching slightly to push your breast more fully into his palm. "mmmnh… that feels… ah!"

when his teeth graze your nipple, you can't help but bite your lip to stifle a louder moan. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "o—oh god…" you pant, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with growing arousal. "p—please… don't stop…"

he groans deeply as he feels the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingers. your essence clings to his digits as he strokes along your folds, teasing your entrance. "damn, you're soaked. practically dripping for me already." he teases before capturing your lips in another filthy kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers as he works two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel. curling them just so, he rub against that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"that's it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds." he rasps against your mouth, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his other hand grips your hip bruisingly, holding you in place as he finger fucks you with deep, purposeful strokes. "gonna make this greedy little cunt mine."

he pumps his fingers faster, plunging them deep into your sopping wet cunt. the obscene sound of your juices squelching fills the air as he finger fucks you hard and fast. "listen to that dirty wet noise, your slutty hole is making such a mess on my hand." you let out an embarrassed whimper, he chuckles softly before bringing his coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan.

"tastes divine. sweet and musky, like the perfect fucktoy." spitting crudely on your pussy, he rubs the saliva in, making the obscene squelches even louder as he resumes my vigorous pumping. "gonna ruin this pussy. mold it to fit my cock perfectly. all for me." curling his fingers just right, he strokes your g-spot as his thumb mashes against your clit.

for the first time you notice how unsteady his breathing is—how desperately he clings to you as though you’re the only thing keeping him alive. you bite your lip, torn, your body betraying you as shivers roll down your spine. he’s making you feel good—too good—you’ve never felt bad for him before. but now… now you can’t shake the thought that maybe he needs this more than you realized.

"fuck it." you mumble to yourself before reaching down to his pants, rubbing his clothed pent up buldge. "shit." you hear him mutter, "take it off for me," he says this time, louder, clearer just for you to hear. you waste no time in taking his pants off, only to be greeted with a throbbing cock.

he lets out a low groan as your small hand wraps around his throbbing shaft, stroking him with teasing touches. "just like that baby. wrap those fingers around my big, hard cock." his hips buck into your fist, seeking more friction. the tip leaks pre-cum, allowing your hand to glide smoothly along my length. "fuck!! your hand feels incredible. can't wait to feel this tight little pussy strangling me instead." he giggled.

he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to finger your dripping cunt. the wet, obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with your heavy breathing and muffled moans. "gonna stuff you full of my fat cock and pump you full of cum." god the idea of his fat cock filling you up made your pussy clench tighter.

he smirks against your lips as he feels your walls flutter around my fingers, knowing exactly what effect his words were having on you. "that's right, princess. you want this big dick stretching you out, don't you? want me to split you open on my cock until you're screaming my name." removing his fingers from your dripping cunt, he sucks them clean with a satisfied hum. "not bad, need to taste directly from the source. need to bury my face in this sweet pussy and feast on your nectar."

dropping to his knees, he hooks your legs over his shoulders and drags his tongue through your soaked folds. smiling on your cunt as he feels the way you writhe and shiver at the sudden wet warmth pressed against your sensitive core. he laps at your juices greedily, savouring your flavour. "you taste amazing. could eat this pussy for hours.

he hums on your pussy, lapping at your juices, tongue slipping in between your folds before swirling at your sensitive bud. he lets out a few pops with his mouth before flipping you onto your side with little ease, spooning up behind you. one strong arm wraps around your waist, hauling your hips back against his rock-hard erection. his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers playing with your drenched slit.

"poor baby... look at you, so desperate for my cock." he notches the broad head at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your folds to coat it in your slickness. "beg for it, tell me how badly you need to be stuffed full of my fat dick." leaning in, he nip at your earlobe before letting out an amused hum, "if you want this cock, you'd better start pleading like a good girl."

“f-fuck… i hate you,” you gasp out, your nails digging into his shoulders even as your hips tremble against his hold. “but—god—i want it, i want your cock so bad…”

your voice cracks as the pleasure coils tighter in your stomach, his dominance breaking through every wall you’ve tried to keep up. “please,” you whimper, hating how desperate you sound, “just… just give it to me.”

with a feral grin, he slams his hips forward, driving his thick cock balls deep into your tight, wet heat in one brutal thrust. a deep moan rumbles in his chest at the exquisite sensation of your walls clamping down on me. "fuuuck yes, take it all!" he snarls, immediately setting a punishing pace. each snap of my hips buries him deeper, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the gym. his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise as he fucks into you relentlessly.

"this is what you needed, isn’t it? to be used like the desperate little cock sleeve you are." reaching around, he pinches and twist your clit, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering body. "come for me."

“ah—fuck!” you cry out, your body arching helplessly into his touch as the heat building inside you finally snaps. “oh god—i’m c-coming!”

your walls clench around him uncontrollably, every wave of pleasure crashing through you harder than the last. “p-please… don’t stop!” you sob, your voice breaking as you fall apart in his hands, hating how much you love it.

as your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, he lets out a string of curses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. bending his knees slightly, he angles his hips to nail your g-spot with every thrust, the swollen knot of nerves yielding deliciously under his assault.

"oh fuck, milking my cock so good....!" the wet, filthy sounds of yours coupling fill the air, punctuated by the rhythmic thump of the pylo box shaking from the force of his thrusts. sweat drips down his brow as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity, chasing my own release. "shit, you’re gonna make me bust early at this rate." his balls draw up tight, signaling his impending climax.

“w-wait,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders as the bench creaks beneath the both of you. your heart pounds, not just from what he’s doing but from the faint sounds echoing in the empty gym. “slow down… someone could hear us.”

he stills for just a moment, his heated breath fanning against your ear. “you’re scared they’ll know you’re letting me ruin you like this?” he whispers, voice low and teasing.

“i’m serious,” you hiss, your face burning as you glance toward the door. “please… j-just be quiet. slow down.” he tilts his head, that dangerous glint in his eyes making your stomach twist, but he obliges—his pace easing, his touch softer. “fine,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “but you’ll have to keep yourself quiet, sweetheart… because i’m not stopping.”

slowing his movements, he presses his lips to your shoulder, dragging them up your neck in a series of biting kisses. his hips roll lazily, stirring up your insides without the previous frenzied pace. every inch of his cock drags against your inner walls, prolonging the delicious friction. his hand slides up your torso to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers. "wouldn't want anyone walking in on me claiming this sweet little pussy." to emphasize his point, he squeezes your tit almost painfully, pinching your nipple hard.

his thick shaft pulses inside you, the veins running along its length pressing against your sensitive walls with every shallow thrust. the flared head catches on your rim, stretching you wide before sinking back into your depths. droplets of precum leak from the tip, mingling with your copious fluids to create a slick sheen that allows my cock to slide effortlessly in and out of your grasping heat.

your breath stutters as the sound of footsteps drifts closer, every nerve in your body on edge. your instinct screams at you to pull away, to run, but his firm grip on your hips keeps you pinned right where he wants you.

“p-please,” you whisper, barely moving your lips as your body trembles. “we can’t… someone might walk in on us!”

“shhh,” he murmurs in your ear, the warmth of his breath making you shiver. “don’t think about them. think about me.”

just as he's about to come, the door to the gym creaks open. panic flashes through you, your pulse races, and though you know you should be horrified, you can’t ignore the way your body clenches around him at the thought of someone walking in, seeing you like this, but he quickly schools his features into nonchalance. keeping his movements slow and controlled, he continues to rock into you, careful not to make too much noise. "relax. they won't notice anything amiss," he whispers reassuringly, though tension coils in your gut.

his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he works his cock in and out of your soaked cunt. the threat of discovery only heightens his arousal, the danger adding a forbidden thrill to our illicit tryst. "just focus on keeping quiet and riding my cock. don't let them distract you from coming on my dick."

“god, look at you,” he whispers, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “you like this, don’t you? the idea of someone seeing you fucked wide open on my cock.”

“no,” you gasp, though the weak protest only makes his smirk deepen.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his voice is pure sin now, low and dangerous. “why does it feel like you’re about to come just from the thought of being caught?”

your face burns, the shame and arousal tangling until you don’t know where one ends and the other begins. feeling your pussy clamp down on him, he loses control. with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries myself deep inside you and explode, painting your walls white with thick ropes of cum. a low groan escapes his throat as he fills you up, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the intense waves of pleasure.

"fuckkkkk, that's it… take every drop." he pants harshly against your neck, continuing to grind into you as he empties myself completely. finally spent, he collapses against your back, his softening cock still nestled snugly within your fluttering sheath. "goddamn, you really know how to milk a guy dry." he chuckles breathlessly, nuzzling your hair affectionately.

after a moment, he carefully pulls out of your tender flesh, watching with satisfaction as his seed trickles out of your well-used hole. he tucks himself away and adjusts hisclothes before helping you do the same, wiping away the evidence of the shared passionate encounter.

“there,” he murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he gives your ass a sharp, playful smack. “no one would ever guess what a filthy little thing you just were for me.”

his voice drops lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “though, between us… i think i prefer you messy, marked by me.” before you can respond, he pulls you close, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. “so, still 'enemies'?,” he whispers against your mouth, his hand still cupping the back of your neck.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet his piercing gaze. “…i don’t know anymore,” you admit softly, your voice trembling, and his smirk widens just a little.

— anaxa, LUOCHA, SAMPO, WELT, MYDEI

"i'd burn kingdoms for you. say the word."

✧/✧/✧ from a young age, the knight bore a terrible curse—his touch seared flesh, his grip crushed bones, and his presence brought agony to all but one. isolated and feared, he lived in the shadows of kingdoms, a weapon too dangerous to wield freely.

then, one day, he was summoned to the royal court to serve the princess rumoured to be as mysterious as the curse itself. when their eyes met, something shifted—his touch, which had never healed, never soothed, softened on her skin like a gentle flame.

unbeknownst to many, the princess held a rare power, a blessing woven into her bloodline, making her immune to his pain and, more miraculously, capable of taming his curse. together, they walked a perilous path—her protection the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, his loyalty fierce enough to burn kingdoms for her.

but their love, dangerous and forbidden, threatened to ignite a war none were prepared for.

the throne room was cold, shadows stretching long across the polished stone floor. guards stood silent at the edges, but all you could see was him—your cursed knight, the one whose touch brought pain to anyone else, but never to you.

his dark eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce intensity that made your heart thunder. “i’d burn kingdoms for you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “say the word.”

you swallowed hard, mesmerised by the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin—no hesitation, no fear. when his fingers finally brushed against your arm, a warmth blossomed through you, soft and safe.

how could a touch so dangerous hurt everyone else but heal you? the answer was clear, even if the world would never understand: you were a princess, and his curse belonged only to the rest of the world, but love like this was never simple.

the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the chamber walls as he stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing against you like a storm waiting to break.

his eyes, dark and smoldering, held yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. the cursed knight—feared by all, yet gentle with you—reached out, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the fire burning just beneath the surface.

“you’re the only one who can bear my touch,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “and i won’t let anyone else have you.” the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither could deny any longer. his hands snaked around your waist, the world outside faded until there was only the two of you, caught in the dangerous intimacy of a love that burned brighter than any curse.

"bow." your voice loud and booming with the echo. at your whispered command, his posture shifted, his broad shoulders relaxing as he lowered his head submissively. his hands released their firm hold on your waist, instead resting gently at his sides as if awaiting further instruction.

"as you wish, my princess," he murmured, his voice now soft and obedient. "i am yours to command." he kept his eyes downcast, gazing at the floor between your feet rather than meeting your gaze directly. the proud, dominant aura that usually surrounded him had vanished, replaced by a quiet humility and a willingness to submit to your every whim.

your command hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the power dynamics at play. he stood before you, tall and imposing in his silver armour, yet utterly subservient to your will. the contrast was intoxicating, a heady mix of dominance and submission that left you breathless. "please, my princess," he said, his voice a husky whisper, "tell me how I may serve you tonight."

he remained still, a living statue of obedience, awaiting your guidance. the red cape draped elegantly over his shoulders, a symbol of his devotion and readiness to fulfill whatever desires you might have. "my princess?" his voice was a gentle query, tinged with anticipation. he stood before you, a pillar of strength and servitude, ready to obey your every command.

"what is it you desire of me tonight?" his question hung in the air, a silent plea for guidance as he awaited your instructions with bated breath. the torchlight danced across his features, casting shadows that accentuated the lines of his chiselled jaw and the scar that marred his cheek—battle scars earned in service to your kingdom and your person.

"shall i prepare your bath, my lady? or perhaps attend to your wardrobe for the evening's festivities?" his tone was respectful, almost reverent, as he offered suggestions born of experience and dedication to your comfort and pleasure.

you stepped closer, the soft rustle of your gown the only sound in the dimly lit chamber. your fingers grazed his chest lightly, feeling the powerful beat of his heart beneath the hardened muscle. his breath hitched at the touch, though he kept his gaze lowered in deference.

“no,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “none of that tonight.”

his head tilted slightly, confusion flickering in his dark eyes as he finally dared to glance up at you. “then… what would you have of me, my princess?” you let your hand trail up the line of his throat, your touch soft but commanding, and leaned in close enough for your lips to brush his ear.

“kneel,” you murmured.

the word struck him like a spell. his shoulders trembled as he obeyed without question, lowering himself until he was at your feet, head bowed, hands resting at his sides in perfect submission. “as you wish, my princess,” he breathed, his voice reverent, the anticipation in his posture undeniable.

you looked down at him on his knees before you, the flickering torchlight making his broad frame seem somehow smaller, almost vulnerable. gods, he was so cute like this. you’d always had a thing for him—the cursed knight who would cut down armies at your command but softened the moment you laid a hand on him.

your lips curved into a slow smile as you reached out, cupping his jaw in your palm and tilting his face up to meet your gaze. his dark eyes were wide and expectant, pupils blown, his breath coming just a little faster now that you were this close. “you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” you whispered, your thumb brushing along the sharp line of his scarred cheek. he nodded instantly, the motion eager and obedient.

“good,” you purred, leaning down just enough that your lips ghosted over his ear. “because i want you to pleasure me… can you do that?”

his breath hitched audibly, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “y–yes, my princess,” he stammered, his voice deep and rough with desire. “i… i’ll do whatever you ask.”

you stepped back just slightly, enough to look down at him with a teasing, dominant glint in your eyes. “then show me,” you commanded softly, “just how devoted you really are.”

his strong hands gripped your waist as he guided you to straddle his lap, your skirts spilling over his thighs as he settled back against the velvet cushions of the throne. you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the hard planes of his body pressed flush against yours. from his position on the throne, he looked up at you with a mixture of reverence and hunger, his breath coming heavier as you shifted on his lap, feeling the heat of him pressed firmly beneath you.

his fingers traced the neckline of your gown, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the warm, supple skin beneath. his touch was electrifying, sending shivers of delight coursing through your body. leaning in, he pressed his lips to the sensitive hollow of your throat, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he nuzzled and kissed his way upward.

"you smell divine, my goddess," he murmured against your flesh, his voice a husky growl of desire. ”every inch of you is pure perfection.” his hands continued their sensual exploration, sliding down to cup the swell of your breasts through the thin material of your gown. he kneaded the soft mounds gently, thumbs circling the pebbled nipples until they strained against the fabric, begging for release.

a breathless moan escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively into his hands as the pleasure rippled through you. you gasp his name, your fingers tangling in his hair for balance as his thumbs brushed your sensitive peaks again.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you whispered, trying to sound reprimanding but failing as another shudder coursed down your spine. the fabric of your gown felt unbearably tight now, your nipples aching against the thin barrier. “do you want me to beg you to bare me?”

your lips curved into a shaky smile as you met his dark, smoldering gaze. “because i just might…”

a low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through his chest at your playful threat, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "oh, princess, i'd much prefer to hear you plead for my touch, but if begging is what it takes…" his hands slipped beneath your gown, fingers skimming the heated skin of your thighs as he slowly, deliberately pushed the fabric up.

"let's see if these pretty little tits need freeing from their confines, he teased, his thumbs dipping beneath the lace of your bra to tease the tender buds. ”and maybe we can work our way lower, see if you're hiding any other secrets down there.”

with one trembling hand, he reached for the fastenings of his own garments, divesting himself majority of clothing besides his boxers with agonising slowness. each item fell away to reveal more of his bronzed skin, etched with the lines of hard won strength and bearing the scars of countless battles fought in your service.

his gaze was riveted to your exposed breasts, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the sight. his hands hovered uncertainly, as if afraid to touch lest he offend or displease you. yet the longing in his expression was palpable, a raw, aching need to worship and adore you. "may i, my princess?" he asked softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. ”may i touch you here? i promise to be gentle, to cherish and honour every inch of you.”

without waiting for permission, he reached out tentatively, his calloused fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts. the contact sent jolts of pleasure racing through you, and you couldn't suppress a soft gasp. "so soft," he breathed, his touch growing bolder as he explored the curves and valleys of your flesh.

his fingers danced across your nipples, tracing the stiff peaks with a feather-light touch that sent shivers of delight coursing through your body. he watched your reactions intently, gauging your pleasure and adjusting his ministrations accordingly. “do they please you, my princess?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur. “shall i pinch them, roll them between my fingers, or perhaps suckle them gently to bring you more joy?”

he paused, awaiting your guidance, his eyes burning with a desperate, adoring hunger. in this moment, he was your willing slave, existing solely to provide you with ecstasy and satisfaction. you bit your lip, feeling the heat between your thighs grow unbearable, and slowly guided one of his large hands downward, over the soft folds of your gown, until his palm rested between your legs. “pleasure me here too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with authority and need. “can you do that for me..?”

his breath hitched as he nodded fervently, his fingers twitching beneath your guidance as if barely able to contain his desire to obey. you bit your lip and leaned forward slightly, letting one hand drift downward, trailing over the hard planes of his stomach until you reached the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric. your fingers brushed over the heated outline teasingly, watching the way his breath caught in his throat, his hips jerking subtly beneath you.

“you’re so hard for me,” you whispered, your tone both teasing and commanding as you squeezed him lightly through the fabric. “do you want me to help you too… or should i make you wait while you pleasure me first?” at your words his entire body tensed at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as your fingers wrapped around his throbbing length through the fabric. his eyes fluttered shut, his brow furrowing in concentration as he struggled to maintain control.

"p-please," he stuttered, his voice ragged with desire. ”don't make me wait. i ache for you, need to feel you wrapped around me, to lose myself inside your warmth.” his cock sprang free, already leaking precum as it bobbed eagerly before you, a testament to his intense arousal. "take me," he begged, his eyes opening to lock onto yours with a desperate, pleading intensity. ”use me however you desire."

your breath caught as his length stood proudly before you, thick and flushed, the bead of precum glistening at the tip like a silent plea. you let your fingers ghost along his shaft, the twitch of his hips making a thrill run down your spine.

“so eager,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you guided him to lie back further into the throne. “you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“y–yes, my princess,” he breathed, his voice shaking with need.

you straddled him again, hovering just above his cock, letting the swollen head brush against your soaked entrance. his breath hitched, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne in a silent show of restraint. “good,” you purred, leaning forward so your lips brushed his ear. “because i’m going to take you… but i’m going to take my time.”

his breath was ragged as his hands slid slowly down your thighs, his touch reverent but desperate. reaching the hem of your gown, he bunched the fabric up around your hips, his fingers trembling as they found the edge of your soaked panties. he hooked a finger beneath the lace and dragged it aside, his knuckles grazing your slick, swollen folds. a soft, helpless sound escaped your lips as the air hit your heated core, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight before him.

a thin string of slick clung from the damp crotch of your panties to your glistening sex, catching the flicker of torchlight. “gods…” he whispered, almost to himself, his voice breaking with awe as his thumb brushed delicately over your entrance. “you’re so wet for me, my princess… so perfect.”

you hummed lewdly, unable to hold back the shameless sound as his movements grew more deliberate, more torturously slow. his strong hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he positioned himself perfectly against your soaked core, his gaze locked on your trembling body.

the air was electric with tension as his cock glided effortlessly through your slick folds, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room like a primal serenade. your thighs trembled, your hips twitching upward to meet each gentle thrust, as if beckoning him deeper. the sight was intoxicating - his shaft, slick with your juices, glistening like polished marble as it slid up and down your glistening folds.

the head of his cock would catch on the swollen nub of your clit, sending shivers coursing through your body, before he'd continue his languid strokes, teasing out your pleasure with every deliberate movement. your fingers dug into the armrests of the throne, the wood creaking softly in protest as you arched your back, your breasts thrusting upward like ripe fruit.

“my princess…” he gasped, the sound broken and reverent, “please—” “quiet,” you whispered, your hips rolling just enough to make him shudder. “you’re mine to use tonight. do you understand?”

“y-yes,” he stammered, though his eyes burned with something deeper than desire—devotion so raw it nearly stole your breath. his hands roved over the plush swells of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking the pert nipples into even tighter peaks. his fingers left trails of goosebumps, sending shivers of delight coursing through you.

leaning in, he drew a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud before giving it a gentle nip. the sensation was electric, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. meanwhile, his cock continued its leisurely glide along your slick folds, the head bumping insistently against your clit with each pass. the dual stimulation was driving you wild, your body thrumming with need as you ground yourself against him.

a strangled moan slipped from your lips as you clutched at his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the hard muscle beneath. “g-gods,” you gasped, the words trembling as his tongue flicked over your swollen nipple again, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

he hummed lowly in response, the vibrations rumbling through your sensitive flesh as he suckled harder, teeth grazing just enough to make you shudder. your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more friction as his cock continued its languid, teasing glides through your slick folds. each deliberate stroke had the head brushing your clit, making your thighs tremble and your breath catch with every subtle bump.

“you’re driving me mad,” you whispered, voice breaking as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, silently begging for more. “please, don’t… don’t tease me like this anymore.” but his lips curved against your breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around the tender peak as he kept up that torturous pace below. the dual sensations—the wet heat of his mouth and the steady grind of his cock against your dripping sex—left your body quivering, the throne’s velvet cushion damp beneath you as you ground against him with growing desperation.

“patience, my princess,” he murmured around your nipple, his tone dark and velvety. “i want to feel you come undone all over me.” you bit your lower lip, feeling your arousal dribble down your wet streaked thighs. "'m gonna do it now," you breathed as you feel his cock twitch, slightly nudging your dripping cunt.

he nods his head, excited to finally be in you. you lowered yourself slowly onto him, feeling the heat and fullness as your slick folds enveloped his length. and with a low, controlled thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his thick cockhead nudging past your cervix to nestle deep within your fertile womb. a shuddering gasp escaped him at the exquisite sensation of being fully sheathed within your slick heat.

he held still for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body embracing his, your inner muscles rippling around the invading length of his shaft. then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he slid back until only the tip remained nestled inside you, before pushing forward again, repeating the gentle rhythm. each glide of his cock through your drenched folds elicited a symphony of pleasurable sounds - the squelch of your arousal, the slap of skin, the hitched breaths and whimpers of blissful surrender.

your body instinctively clenched around him, swallowing him deep with a wet, rhythmic squeeze that made his breath hitch. the sensation was electric—tight and warm, wrapping him completely as if you were made to hold him just like this. every movement sent waves of pleasure radiating through both of you, the perfect, intimate connection burning between your bodies.

both of your moans grew louder and more lewd as he continued to slowly, deeply penetrate you, his thick cock stretching and filling you completely with each thrust. the filthy sounds of your coupling filled the room, a symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, accompanied by your wanton cries and his guttural groans of pleasure.

"fuuuuuuck," he gasped, his voice ragged with desire, "your cunt is heaven, so tight and wet around me… i could stay buried inside you forever." his hips picked up speed, driving into you with increasing urgency as he chased his impending climax. the throne remained unmoving beneath your joined weight, lost as you were in the frenzy of your passionate rutting.

you bite your lip, wanting to tell him to slow down, to take his time—but the way he moves, so powerful and unrelenting, makes it impossible.

“please… slow down,” you whisper, voice trembling with need.

his thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, each inch of his cock dragging sensuously along your inner walls as he savored the exquisite friction. his breath came in ragged pants, "can't…stop," he panted, his voice a hoarse, desperate rasp, "feels too good, too perfect… gonna cum, gonna fill you up!" your body trembles above him as he continues, every thrust a delicious torment you never want to end.

“f-u-u-u-uckkkk!!!” your voice breaks and stretches with every movement, capturing the way your breath hitches as he pushes deeper inside you, feeling his hips slamming into yours with brutal force, his cock pulsating wildly as he spilled his seed deep inside you.

crying out your name, he emptied himself in great, spurting jets, each pulse triggering a ripple of contractions within your clenching walls. "YESSSSS....!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls as he rode out the crest of his orgasm, lost to the sheer bliss of claiming you so thoroughly. finally, with a shuddering sigh, he collapsed atop you, his spent cock still buried to the hilt as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin.

you place a gentle kiss on his temple, hands pushing yourself up before moving to hold his knees. "i'm gonna keep going yeah? wanna feel you even more," you moan, and with deliberate care, you drag your walls up and down his sensitive cock, the slick heat of your folds tightening deliciously around him. the friction sends a fresh wave of pleasure through both your bodies, making his breath hitch and his fingers twitch where they grip the throne’s carved wood.

his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate, as you continue your slow, sensual rhythm—each movement pulling you both deeper into the fire that burns between you.

a soft, desperate moan escaped his lips—high pitched and helpless, senselessly begging for mor as your hands grip the throne’s armrests tighter, nails digging into the wood as his eyes fluttered closed, utterly lost to the pleasure you were giving him. every slick stroke of your walls had him shuddering uncontrollably, completely surrendered beneath your control.

as you began to bounce up and down faster on his still spurting cock, his eyes widened in shock, a high-pitched moan tearing from his throat. he'd never been taken so aggressively, never experienced such unbridled power and dominance from a lover.

"ahhh, yes, fuck!!" he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure and surprise, "more, please, i need it-ngh...~!" his hands flew to your hips, gripping them tightly as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, to guide your movements rather than simply being swept away by the torrent of sensation. but it was a losing battle, and soon he was simply clinging to you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as you rode him with wild abandon.

"oh gods, you feel amazing, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

you lean in closer, your voice a low, teasing whisper that drips with authority. “that’s it pretty boy,” you murmur, your fingers tightening their grip just enough to send shivers through him. “you want to come for me, don’t you? show me how much you need me.”

your lips brush against his ear as you drag your walls slower, deeper, and more deliberately around him, coaxing every inch of pleasure from his trembling body.

“let go,” you command softly, your breath hot against his skin. “i want to feel you lose control.” his moans grow louder, more frantic, the desperate need in his eyes begging for your permission to release.

“cum for me,” you whisper, voice low and seductive. “come undone in my hands.” at your command, his body seized, his cock jerking violently inside you as a massive orgasm ripped through him. he choked your name, his voice raw and desperate, as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over him.

"cumming, princess, cumming so hard!" he gasped, his hips bucking erratically to meet your downward thrusts. his seed pulsed out in thick, scalding streams, flooding your convulsing channel and painting your inner walls with his essence. feeling his climax, your own breath hitches and your eyes roll back, every nerve alight with a scorching heat. your walls clamp down around him instinctively, pulling him deeper as your own orgasm surges through you in overwhelming sync.

the sensation of your tight, spasming pussy milking his cock was almost too much to bear, and his vision blurred at the edges as he teetered on the brink of blackout. yet still he clung to you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of bliss.

as the last waves of pleasure subsided, his chest heaved with exhaustion, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of awe and adoration. the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and the sound of your ragged breathing filled his ears. he felt his heart still racing, his body trembling with the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking. it was as if the entire world had narrowed to a single, shining point—the two of you, lost in the depths of your passion.

as the last tremors of your shared orgasms subsided, he pulled you into a searing, passionate kiss. soft moans escaped both of you, the kiss a perfect storm of need and tenderness as his lips moved hungrily against yours, tasting the salt of your sweat, the sweetness of your breath. he poured all his desire, his adoration, into the heated embrace, his tongue delving deep with yours.

when finally he broke away, his chest heaved, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. "one more round, princess?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, "i don't think i can get enough of you tonight…"

— GEPARD, DAN HENG, luka, gallagher, PHAINON, SUNDAY

"tell me you want it. say it like you mean it."

✧/✧/✧ you had always clashed with him. it didn’t matter if it was in the training arena, behind closed doors during strategy meetings, or even in front of others—you and he simply didn’t see eye to eye. you were both strong-willed, sharp-tongued, and unwilling to back down. and that tension… everyone else noticed it too.

but what no one knew was how that fire between you burned just as hot in private. there were nights when the sharp glares and cutting words gave way to something far more dangerous, far more consuming.

tonight was one of those nights.

you were pressed against the cold stone wall of the barracks, your breath coming in short gasps as his body pinned yours in place. his voice was a low growl in your ear, commanding, unwavering, leaving no room for resistance.

“tell me you want it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hands held your wrists firmly above your head, his strength making it impossible to break free. “say it like you mean it.”

the power thrummed through every word, his dominance demanding not just your body but your admission, your surrender. and despite the way your pride flared, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him, how much the fire between you consumed every thought.

your breath hitched as his grip on your wrists tightened, the rough scrape of the wall against your back a sharp reminder of just how trapped you were. your pride burned hot in your chest, urging you to stay silent, to keep even a shred of control over the situation.

but gods… the way he looked at you. his eyes were dark, intense, searing into your very soul as though he could see through every facade you’d ever built. the proximity of his body, the heat radiating off him, only made it harder to keep your resolve from crumbling.

“i–i don’t—” you started, your voice faltering when he suddenly leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispered again, low and commanding.

“say it like you mean it.”

his free hand trailed slowly down your side, fingers grazing the curve of your hip before resting firmly against your thigh, holding you in place. your entire body trembled with need, but you bit your lip hard, still resisting, even as a traitorous whimper slipped past your lips.

he tilted his head, lips brushing your jaw now. “you’re shaking,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “you want me… so why don’t you admit it?” his grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go. His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, tilting your face up so he can look at you properly. the smirk that plays on his lips is slow, deliberate, and full of something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"you're not exactly making this easy," he mutters, his voice lower than usual, almost a growl. "but then again, you never have been." he leans in again, this time pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. there's no pressure, no force—just the weight of his presence, the unspoken challenge between you.

"you think you're the first person to try to play hard to get with me? you're not even close." he steps back just enough to let you breathe, but not escape.

your chest heaves as the sudden space between you feels like a taunt, like he’s daring you to run even though you both know you won’t. your back remains pressed to the wall, the phantom heat of his body still clinging to your skin. his hand remains on the back of your neck, thumb brushing idly along the curve of your jaw in a touch that feels far too intimate for the tension threading between you.

“you’re infuriating,” you manage, though your voice lacks the bite you intended. he chuckles lowly, the sound reverberating through your chest. “maybe. but i’m not wrong,” he murmurs, voice like velvet over steel. “you want me. you’ve always wanted me.”

his forehead presses to yours again, his gaze pinning you in place, holding you as securely as any physical restraint.

“say it,” he whispers, almost softly this time, though the command in his tone is undeniable. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you everything you’re too scared to ask for.”

your lips part, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb grazes over your lower lip, coaxing, teasing, patient yet utterly unyielding. his eyes flicker down to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before meeting your gaze again. there's a heat in those dark depths, a promise and a challenge all at once. when he speaks again, his voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

"i've seen the way you look at me when you think i'm not watching. the flush on your cheeks, how your breath quickens…" his hand slides from your jaw to the side of your neck, feeling your pulse jump beneath his fingertips. "don't deny it. we both know the truth." he whispers closer, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours now. you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own.

"you say you hate me, but your body… it betrays you. it craves my touch, my attention." his hand slides down from your neck to your collarbone, fingers splayed possessively across your racing heart. the heat of his palm seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, branding your skin. "i can feel how fast your heart is beating," he murmurs, voice a low rumble. "like a caged bird desperate to break free.iIs that what you are, desperate for me?"

his other hand releases your wrist only to trail slowly, teasingly, up your arm, leaving goosebumps on your skin. he leans in, nose skimming along your jaw, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. "you drive me mad."

your hands press lightly against his chest, not enough to push him away, just enough to keep the smallest bit of distance between you. you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, maddeningly calm compared to your own frantic rhythm.

“i…” the word slips from your lips as barely a whisper, your gaze flicking down, unable to meet his piercing eyes. you should push him away. you should say no. but the heat coiling low in your stomach betrays you, the way your body leans instinctively into his touch, giving you away.

his fingers splay wider against your collarbone, a subtle reminder of his control as he tilts his head to catch your gaze. “look at me,” he murmurs, his voice dark velvet.

you swallow hard, slowly lifting your eyes to his. the intensity in his stare makes your breath hitch, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as though holding on to something solid.

“should i take your silence as a yes?” he teases softly, his lips brushing your temple. “or are you still going to fight me?”

your heart pounds painfully in your chest as you bite your lip, every part of you screaming to resist even as the pull toward him grows stronger. “i… i don’t know,” you finally whisper, voice trembling.

his smirk returns, slow and dangerous, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “then let me show you,” he murmurs, leaning in just close enough for his breath to fan across your lips. “i’ll make you want me so badly you won’t be able to deny it.”

his hand slides from your jaw to tangle in your hair, gripping gently but firmly. he uses the hold to tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat to his heated gaze. his other hand trails down your side, coming to rest on your hip, where he squeezes lightly, pulling you impossibly closer.

“just… feel,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your pulse point. “if you want me to stop, say the word and i will. but if you want this, little bird… let yourself go. only if you want it too.”

he pauses deliberately, giving you space to pull away, to decide. when you don’t, when instead your body leans subtly closer, he nips lightly at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

one of his legs slips between yours, pressing against your core as he grinds subtly against you. "that's it," he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "stop thinking, stop overthinking. just feel the heat building between us, the way our bodies fit together like they were made for each other."

his hand on your hip slides around to grip your ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he pulls you harder against him. you can feel every hard plane of his body pressed against your softer curves, the evidence of his arousal evident even through their clothes.

"i'm going to worship every inch of you,"

his lips blaze a trail of fire up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your earlobe. his hand in your hair tugs gently, forcing your head back further to expose more of your throat to his hungry mouth. "gonna taste you everywhere," he growls against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "lick and suck until you're writhing, begging for more."

the hand on your ass slides around to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his waist. he grinds against you harder, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through his pants. "feel that, baby? feel what you do to me?" he pants, his hips rolling in a slow, filthy grind. "i'm so fucking hard for you already. can't wait to bury myself inside your tight little cunt."

you swallow hard, your chest heaving as the heat from his body makes your thoughts swirl. your hands clutch at his shoulders for balance, your voice soft but steady as you whisper, “yes.”

he stills, pulling back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “what?” he asks quietly, almost as if he needs to hear it again. your cheeks flush as you take a shaky breath, gathering every ounce of courage to say the words. “i… i want it,” you admit, voice trembling but sure.

a low, pleased growl rumbles in his chest, and the corner of his mouth curls into a sinful smirk. “that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his hand in your hair loosening to cradle the back of your head with surprising tenderness. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

he walks backwards towards the bed, keeping you pinned against his chest. with a swift movement, he sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you down to straddle his lap. his large hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. his hands skim down your sides, fingers digging into your hips possessively as he grinds his hardness against your core.

"i've wanted this for so long." he groans, his lips finding the shell of your ear. "wanted to bend you over and take you, claim you, make you mine." one hand slides under your shirt, calloused palm skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breast roughly. he thumbs your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"gonna ruin you," he promises darkly, nipping at your jaw. "fuck you so good you'll forget your own name." a breathless laugh slips past your lips, though it’s tinged with anticipation. “then you’d better back that up,” you murmur, tilting your chin up in a teasing challenge.

your nails lightly drag over his shoulders as you add, voice soft but daring, “show me just how good you can fuck me… make me forget everything but you.”

"oh, i'll make you feel things you've never felt before." he murmurs against your pulse point. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt up and off in one smooth motion. he tosses it aside carelessly, his dark eyes raking over your exposed skin hungrily. leaning in, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

"beautiful," he rumbles appreciatively, palming your breasts through the thin lace of your bra. "can't wait to get my mouth on these perfect tits."

with deft fingers, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts. he groans at the sight, immediately ducking his head to capture the tender peak of your breast between his lips. he suckles hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand kneads the soft flesh of the other breast.

he lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between firm suckles and gentle licks. his hands roam your back, tracing the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips. he rocks you against his lap, grinding his cloth-covered erection against your core in a delicious friction.

"fuck, the way you move, he groans, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. "so responsive and eager for my touch." he breathes, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants, he starts tugging them down, along with your panties. he swiftly strips you completely bare, leaving you naked in his lap.

"gonna explore every inch of you," he promises, his hands mapping the newly exposed skin of your thighs. "and find all the places that make you gasp and moan."

your breath hitched at his words, heat rushing to your cheeks as his hands roamed your bare thighs with slow, deliberate intent. “g-gods…” you whispered, bringing your hands up to cover your face in a flustered attempt to hide how much his words affected you.

he let out a low chuckle, leaning in closer so his breath brushed against your ear. “oh? shy now?” he teased softly, fingers squeezing your thighs just enough to make you squirm. “don’t hide from me… i’m going to explore every inch of you, remember? and i want to see every single expression when i find the spots that make you gasp and moan.”

he lays you back on the bed, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. slowly, torturously, he peels off his own shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abs. he settles between your thighs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. starting at your ankle, he begins to map your body with his mouth.

he presses open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your calf, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he works his way higher, lavishing attention on the sensitive spot behind your knee, the crease of your thigh. as he nears your center, he pauses, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate area. he looks up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust.

your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you, toes curling as anticipation coiled tight in your belly. “please…” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t even sure what you were begging for—only that you needed more of his touch, more of him.

you bit your lip, lifting your hips ever so slightly toward him in silent invitation, your cheeks flushing at your own boldness. “don’t… don’t stop now,” you managed, your voice soft but desperate. “i… i want you.”

"want you too baby," he replies before he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, broad shoulders relaxed but his grip on your waist firm as he pulled you down the mattress. the cool sheets bunched beneath you as he dragged you toward the edge, your thighs instinctively parting for him.

“closer,” he murmured, voice low and commanding, hooking his hands behind your knees to pull them over his shoulders. your thighs trembled as he adjusted you exactly where he wanted, your hips now balanced perfectly at the edge of the bed.

he glanced up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, the heat in his stare making your breath catch. one hand slid around to anchor at your hip while the other pressed lightly against your thigh, keeping you open for him.

“that’s it,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath fanned warm over your most sensitive spot. “stay right here for me… i want you just like this.” without warning, he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your dripping folds. he laps at your essence, moaning at the sweet taste of your arousal. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he feasts on your pussy like a starving man.

he focuses his attention on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. at the same time, he thrusts two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel, pumping them in and out in a relentless rhythm.

he slows his movements, taking his time to savour your taste and reactions. he starts with feather light touches—the barest brush of his tongue along your slit, the gentlest caress of his fingers inside you. he watches your face intently, gauging your responses.

every so often, he darts his tongue out to circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp before pulling back. his fingers remain still inside you, curled to hit that special spot but not moving, letting you feel full and stretched. he alternates between these teasing touches and long, slow licks up your entire sex, from entrance to clit and back again. each stroke of his tongue is deliberate, designed to build the tension slowly, maddeningly.

he withdraws his fingers from your dripping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. slowly, teasingly, he brings his thumb to your slick folds, coating it in your juices. he rubs the pad of his thumb in slow, deliberate circles around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your hips buck involuntarily.

"look at this pretty little pussy," he purrs, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "so wet for me already. practically dripping onto the sheets." he dips his thumb lower, collecting more of your essence before bringing it up to your clit again. this time, he presses down harder, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub.

"this greedy cunt is begging for my cock, isn't it? throbbing and clenching, desperate to be filled." your fingers twist tightly in the sheets, knuckles turning white as you fight to keep your body still, but it’s useless. a soft, broken moan escapes your lips, your hips jerking helplessly at the relentless circles of his thumb.

“p-please…” you whimper, your voice trembling with need as your thighs instinctively try to close around his hand, only for him to hold you open. your back arches, breasts pressing up toward the ceiling as the pleasure builds unbearably, your slick dripping down onto the sheets just like he said.

“i-it’s too much,” you whisper through a shaky breath, though the way your hips rock against his thumb betrays just how badly you crave it. “i… i need you, please…”

your eyes flutter open, hazy and wet with tears you hadn’t realized had gathered, looking down at him through your lashes. “i’m so empty,” you admit softly, your voice cracking on the words. “please fill me… i can’t take it anymore.”

he continues his assault on your sex, alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks of his thumb. his other hand slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers. leaning in, he replaces his thumb with his tongue, lapping at your folds in long, slow licks.

he savours your taste, moaning against your skin as he drinks in your arousal. his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider as he buries his face deeper between your legs, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure with nothing but his skilled mouth. he adds a third finger to the mix, stretching you wider as he pumps them in and out at a faster pace. his fingers curl inside you, stroking along your inner walls as he targets that sensitive spot deep within.

at the same time, he enhcnaces his efforts on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly with the tip of his tongue. the dual stimulation proves overwhelming, and he can feel your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. he doubles down, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming around it, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.

his thumb moved faster now, the slick circles on your clit growing tighter, more deliberate, as he worked you closer to the edge. your breath hitched sharply, each inhale coming quicker than the last, your chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm.

your hips jerked upward to meet the relentless motion, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as the pleasure spiked. “ah—god, please!” you gasped, voice shaking, toes curling against the sheets as you clutched them even tighter.

every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the quick, ruthless pace of his touch sending shivers racing through you. your breath quickened to the point of desperation, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips in time with each rapid stroke.

“i—i can’t—” you panted, back arching as the tension coiled tight inside you. “it’s too much… i’m gonna—!” feeling you teetering on the brink, he redoubles his efforts. his fingers piston in and out of your clenching heat at a breakneck pace, curling to hit that magic spot with every thrust. at the same time, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly with the tip of his tongue.

he can sense your impending release, your walls starting to flutter and squeeze around his fingers. determined to push you over the edge, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, marking you as his. the sharp burst of pain mingles with the intense pleasure, catapulting you into ecstasy.

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pure bliss radiates from your core. he doesn't let up as you come undone, continuing to work you through your intense climax with his mouth and fingers. as the aftershocks start to subside, he slowly eases you down, placing soft kisses along your inner thighs and mound.

"fuck, that was beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "the way you fall apart for me, so passionate. i could watch you come all day."

he crawls up your body, settling between your spread thighs. the hard length of his erection nestles against your sensitive, still throbbing core. he braces himself above you, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

gently, he reaches beneath your back, sliding his hands under your shoulders to shift your weight as he eases you onto your back fully. with careful, deliberate movements, he positions himself between your legs, his hips aligning with yours.

his hands slide down to cup your cheeks, thumbs tracing slow circles as he leans in closer, lips brushing yours in a heated kiss. the warmth of his body presses down onto yours, the weight both comforting and electrifying.

his hips press forward just enough for the tip of him to tease your entrance, sending a delicious ache curling through you. "ready for me, princess?" he whispers, voice low and thick with need.

your fingers clutch at his shoulders as he begins to slowly, deeply push inside you, the stretch both overwhelming and intoxicating. your breath catches, eyes locking with his as he rubs his angry tip at your clit.

"looks like they're kissing, hm?" he teases right before pausing just at the entrance, his eyes searching yours with gentle concern. “tell me if it hurts, okay? i want this to feel good for you,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of care. slowly, he begins to push inside, inch by careful inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch.

his hands stay steady on your hips, holding you securely but tenderly, ready to pull back at the slightest sign of discomfort. when you nod, reassuring him you’re okay, he moves a little deeper, always watching your face for any sign you need him to stop. “you’re doing so well,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with affection.

once he’s fully inside, he holds still for a moment, letting you feel every inch before starting to move with a steady, commanding rhythm, each thrust drawing a moan from deep within your chest.

he sets a deep, powerful rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with purposeful intent. each thrust fills you completely, the thick length of him stretching you in the most delicious way. he angles his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every stroke, determined to stoke the embers of your pleasure back into a raging inferno.

"shiiiiit, you feel incredible..." he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "so tight, so perfect. like you were made for my cock." one hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increases his pace. the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. he latches onto your pulse point, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, intent on marking you as his.

"gonna fill this sweet cunt with my cum," your hot sex clenches at his words, the image of his cum painting your walls white got you excited. "fuck—yes! fuck me harder," you beg, the feeling of his painfully big cock sliding in and out of your slippery core.

"fuck you harder what....?" he hums, slowing his pace just to tease you. "fuck me harder..please..." spurred on by your plea, he begins to pound into you with wild abandon. the bed frame slams against the wall with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound mixing with your cries of pleasure. his hips blur with the speed and force of his movements, chasing his own release while determined to bring you to another earth-shattering climax.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" he snarls, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion. "take my cock, princess. milk it with this greedy little pussy like the good girl you are." he changes the angle slightly, somehow managing to go even deeper. the new position allows him to grind against your clit with every thrust, the added stimulation pushing you rapidly towards the edge once more.

his balls slap against your ass with each snap of his hips, the lewd noise only adding to the intensity of the moment. the room fills with the vulgar sounds of skin slapping against skin and your shameless moans. rivulets of sweat trickle down his chest, mingling with the slick evidence of your arousal coating his pistoning cock. the sheets beneath you are soaked and tangled, bearing testament to your shared passion.

"awh, look at the mess we're making," he pants, glancing down at where you're joined. "your pretty little hole is dripping all over my cock, making such a filthy squelch. you love being used like a fucktoy, don't you?" he punctuates his words with particularly brutal thrusts, angling to grind against your g-spot with every stroke.

reaching down, he collects some of the slick coating his shaft and brings his coated fingers to your lips. "taste yourself." you waste no time in taking his fingers in your mouth, head bobbing down as you sucked on his coated fingers with a lewd moan.

"mmmm mm....." his fingers slip past your lips, the musky, slightly salty taste of your combined arousal explodes across your tongue. it's an intense flavour—the essence of your desire mixed with the taste of his skin. the texture is slick and slightly sticky, coating your mouth and leaving a tingling sensation as you swirl your tongue around the digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

the scent is heady and intoxicating, filling your nostrils with the primal aroma of sex. it's a potent reminder of your mutual lust and the depravity of the act you're engaged in. as you suckle and lick, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, drinking in the erotic sight of you debasing yourself for his pleasure.

he groans at the erotic sight of you suckling his fingers clean, your lips wrapped around the digits as you mimic the act of oral sex. pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, he uses his saliva slick hand to stroke his throbbing cock, smearing your combined fluids along the rigid shaft.

"that's it, get a nice biiiiiig mouthful of our mixed juices. fuck, the things you do to me…" he lines himself up with your entrance once more, the swollen head nudging insistently at your slick folds. "beg for my cum, pretty. let me hear what a desperate little girl you are for me."

your breaths come in ragged gasps, heat pooling deep inside you as desperation takes hold. your voice trembles, barely more than a whisper at first, but gaining strength with every word.

“please… please fuck me harder,” you plead, eyes locked on his with a mixture of need and vulnerability. “i need you—need to feel you fill me up, make me yours.”

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as you arch your back, pressing closer to him. “don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

the raw urgency in your voice leaves no doubt—you're begging, hungry for every rough moment he’s willing to give. a feral grin spreads across his face at your desperate plea, his eyes flashing with triumph and dark hunger. "that's my good girl," he praises roughly, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

"begging so nicely for my dick." with no further preamble, he slams into you to the hilt, hilting himself fully inside your welcoming heat. he sets a punishing pace, each thrust jarring your entire body and forcing choked moans from your throat. "this what you wanted, right? to be split open on my fat cock?" his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as he looms over you, his muscular form caging you in.

capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, he plunders your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your wanton cries. it's a kiss full of hunger, possession, and barely restrained violence. his teeth nip at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste mingling with the flavour of your shared arousal.

breaking away with a growl, he attacks your neck, biting and sucking harsh marks into the delicate skin. his hips never falter in their relentless rhythm, pounding into you with animalistic fervor. gonna ruin this pussy, he snarls against your throat, his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

"fuck a baby into this fertile womb until it takes." your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, a mix of surprise and something undeniably thrilling stirring inside you. your breath catches, heart pounding faster at the weight of his words.

“breed me?” you whisper, voice trembling but curious, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “how more hotter can you get?” you chuckle.

his eyes darken with primal lust at your response, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "oh, i'm just getting started, princess," he purrs dangerously, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "by the time i'm done with you, this belly will be swollen with my seed, your tits heavy with milk. you'll always ready and eager for my cock."

to emphasize his point, he reaches down to roughly palm your stomach, as if imagining it rounded with his child. the possessive gesture sends a shiver down your spine, equal parts terrifying and arousing. "i'm going to pump you so full of my cum, you'll be leaking for days. everyone will know who this cunt belongs to."

his thrusts become erratic, driven by the primal urge to claim and breed. the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, punctuated by your high-pitched keens and his guttural grunts. sweat drips down his straining muscles as he chases his release, determined to mark you irrevocably as his.

with a final, brutal snap of his hips, he hilts himself inside you, his thick cock pulsing and twitching as he starts to unload. hot ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his virile seed. it feels like he's pumping a gallon of jizz directly into your core, the sheer volume causing your stomach to swell slightly with the force of his release.

as he continues to fill you with his seed, his eyes gleam with satisfaction, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "feel every drop," he growls, his movements slowing but never stopping. "you're mine now, completely mine." his grip tightens, holding you close as he empties himself into you, the sensation overwhelming and intense.

panting heavily, he collapses onto you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cum-filled cunt. he peppers your neck and jaw with hot, open mouthed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth over your pulse point. one large hand splays possessively over your lower abdomen, as if already imagining it round with his child.

he rolls his hips lazily, stirring the thick load of semen inside you and ensuring every drop takes root. the feeling of his potent seed sloshing around in your well used hole sends aftershocks rippling through your body, prolonging your pleasure. "fuck, i can feel it sloshing around in there," he groans appreciatively, giving your stuffed pussy a gentle squeeze.

"such a good little breeder, taking my load so well." he pulls out of you with a wet squelch, a river of pearly white cum immediately beginning to leak from your gaping, twitching hole. with a satisfied grunt, he scoops some of the excess jizz and pushes it back inside you, plugging you up with his fingers.

"don't waste a single drop." he commands huskily, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he watches his seed dribble out around his digits. "keep it all inside this hungry cunt. maybe if you're lucky, it'll take and you'll be carrying my baby soon."

he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean, never breaking eye contact. the obscene display makes it clear that he owns you completely now—body, mind and soul.

he pauses, meeting your eyes with deliberate care. "if you’re okay with this,” he says quietly, voice steady but laced with need. “i want all of you, but only if you’ll give yourself to me.”

when you nod, whispering your consent, he finally slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, sensual hum—still holding your gaze.

“good,” he breathes, lowering his hand to cradle your face tenderly. “because you’re mine… every part of you. and i’ll treasure that for as long as you let me.”

— GEPARD, JING YUAN, PHAINON, welt, luocha, BOOTHILL, CAELUS, SUNDAY

note: fyi everyone i have been working on this everyday since tuesday for 9 hours daily.

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies @xoxoangelsweets @irantoyouwithoutthinking @sanestlyneyfan @akhiran @elenasstxarr @51kim-dokjas-wife49 @khoiyyu @paradise-dreams

if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..(if you would like to be added to the taglist you can comment, dm me or send an inbox)