(⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

The market was loud. Vendors were shouting for the attention of consumers, families were dragging their kids away from expensive toys that they begged and screamed for, and the sound of Nami and Robin discussing an evil plan right beside you that made you side eye them.

"Come on!" Nami goads, leaning closer with her hand on your shoulder, "Haggling isn't hard, you have to learn!"

You squint at her, particularly not fond of the devious lilt in her tone. You turned your attention to Robin for backup, but she only smiled and seemed to side with Nami.

"I do think it is a good skill."

What a traitor, you thought as you stared straight ahead. You had agreed to go shopping with them, a mistake you should have realized in hindsight. Really, you would have probably had a better time shopping with Luffy even if that meant just preventing him from grabbing any food item he saw and declaring it useful. You weren't biased, you had convinced yourself.

With a sigh of defeat as you felt Nami's eyes boring into the side of your head, you look at her tiredly. "Fine. Teach me," You muttered with pure regret, the feeling increasing tenfold as the gleam in her eyes becomes nothing short of devilish.

"We will use what I like to call…" She pauses for an annoying dramatic effect, "Weaponizing your femininity."

"So… Sexualizing myself?" You questioned with a deadpan expression, raising an eyebrow. Nami looked scandalized at your wording.

"Not what I said at all!" Nami had huffed, flicking your forehead. You have a small 'ow' in response, rubbing the spot as you glare at her audacity, "It's just weaponizing a weak point in men."

"Feminism," Robin added from beside you unhelpfully.

"Not what that means," You muttered.

"The point is," Nami sighed, grabbing your shoulders so you came to a stop, fully facing her now, "I am not asking you to expose yourself or kiss anyone. Just a little flirting."

"Right…" You mumbled, your eyes drifting to the side to avoid her gaze.

Robin's hand landed on your upper back soothingly, looking down at you with a gentle gaze, "We won't force you to do it," She soothed, easing your tension just a little bit, "Understandably, it likely feels morally wrong considering your status with our captain."

Your ears redden, but you finally meet Nami's eyes as she lets go of you, "Right. I somehow forgot about that," She groaned, her hand resting on her forehead, "Even though that idiot is glued to her, I still can't wrap my head around it."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. Seriously, you understood why it was easy to forget Luffy was dating you. No one in the crew even thought Luffy had a type, let alone would ever get with someone before achieving his dream of being King of the Pirates. Especially not after his complete lack of interest and constant rejection of the Pirate Empress, Boa Hancock, who is quite literally the most beautiful woman in the world.

Despite it all, you were morbidly curious. Not because you were planning to betray Luffy's trust, you would sooner jump ship and become a sea king's next meal than do that, but rather — you just wanted to try it. Haggling, that is.

You thought of the possibilities. If you can learn how to drag prices down, you could buy more gifts for the crew — for Luffy.

"Okay. I'll do it. Just one time, though," You finally nodded. Nami practically glows in joy, grabbing both of your hands in hers.

"Really?! Okay!" Nami all but sang, eagerly looking around for an easy to manipluate vendor, "Don't worry! Robin and I won't let it get too far. Trust me."

You raise a brow at her words. You did trust her on that, but you were curious as to why she seemed so admamant on telling you that now.

Nami seemed to sense your impending question and grinned sheepishly, "I value my life. If something happens to you and Luffy finds out that I basically spearheaded it happening — I believe you'll be down a navigator," She shrugged, causing you to gawk at her.

"I don't think Luffy would kill you or throw you off the crew for that!" You rejected, waving your hands in front of yourself with a rapid shake of your head.

"Perhaps. But sometimes death is more pleasing than forever living with the fact that you had failed your captain," Robin comments, her hand on her chin as she ponders the possibility.

You stared at her, "You need to stop saying whatever comes to your mind."

"Feminism."

"Still not- Well, I mean, kinda…" You shook your head, "NOT THE POINT!"

Nami tugged at your hands, drawing your gaze away from Robin as she pulls you along to a vendor she spotted. You followed her, hearing Robin's gentle glide behind you as she tags along, gaze towards a clothing store — filled with expensive clothing that was leagues out of anything you would wear. "Nami, that's kinda not my style," You tell her, frowning a little.

"Not for you," Nami chirps, causing you to blink. She was having you haggle for her own benefit?

"Oh, don't look like that," Nami laughed, waving you off as she points forwards again, "While yes it is for me, that is not the only reason."

You squint, trying to determine what she was pointing to. She decided to help you out, "The vendor. Look at him," She told you, drawing your attention to the man standing behind the register, "He's young, probably Sanji's age. His gaze keeps locking onto any woman that walks past in a way that would get him slapped. Men like that will fold at any hint of flirting."

You blinked a few times, shocked that Nami had gathered all of that from this distance that quickly. Her expression turned smug, flicking her hair back over her shoulder, "You learn a thing or two when you do this everyday, sweetheart."

The three of you entered the building, already feeling the vendor's eyes snap to your group. "Ladies! Need help with anything?" He asked, his tone charming in a way that seemed to be overcompensating.

"No thanks," Nami waved, her tone holding disinterest in such a way that it was intriguing. It had the desired effect, it seemed, as the man stammered and nodded with reddening cheeks.

Nami leaned closer to you and Robin as you walked between the aisles, her voice lowering, "Just for you, I'll grab just a few things," She winked. Honestly, it didn't feel like it would be helpful — but like everything else today, she explained further, "It's easier to haggle with fewer items. Shops usually become more reluctant to drop a price if the cost is higher, since they'll lose more. There is a way to do it, but that is a skill for professionals. You are new to this… hobby."

That made sense, actually. So much so that you didn't even want to argue it as you just followed her around as she looked for the best things to purchase. Sure, she was limiting herself, but it doesn't mean she will not indulge.

It only took a small half an hour for Nami to decide what she was going to buy right now. Most of the time being stuck between two choices, having to discard one. Every time she put it down, she would pick it up again and reconsider. You and Robin had to have a consensus for her to finally decide.

She handed the clothes off to you, smiling brightly, "Now go haggle."

You stared at her, "That's it? No tips?" You asked, nervously looking between her and the vendor. What were you supposed to say without sounding like a moron?

"Birds don't learn to fly by being told how to," Nami declared dramatically, her hand closed to her chest.

"They do fall and become vulnerable to wolves, though," Robin chimed in from beside Nami.

"Quiet," Nami hissed, grabbing Robin's wrist to drag her to a nearby shelf to "examine" the product on it. Really, they were just eavesdropping and monitoring how it goes.

You sighed to yourself, prepared for the pure embarrassment that was about to follow your sad attempt at seduction. You walked over to the counter, the man behind it — previously leaning against it with his cheek on his hand — perked up at the sight of you. His eyes roam your figure in a way that makes you shudder, in a way that you only ever wanted Luffy to.

"This all for today, beautiful?" He asked you as he takes the hangers from you with a smile that was probably meant to be charming. You swallowed, nodding as he began to scan them.

"Ah… Yeah."

Silence followed awkwardly for you after that. You can practically feel Nami's head shaking in disappointment despite not even looking over at her.

"So, uhmm…" You wring your hands nervously, your eyes darting to the side before looking back at him, "How's… the… ah… weather…?" You asked slowly, unsurely, as your brows downturned in your nervousness. You could almost cry at the cringe surging up your spine.

You could hear Nami choke, covering it up with a cough, from where she was.

You were so focused on your embarrassment that you hadn't even noticed Luffy had found you. He was standing in the doorway now, his eyes locked on you as his chest heaves from his run and the building anger. Not at you, but at the look the man was giving you in spite of your poor attempt.

Nami hadn't noticed either as she had turned away from where you were with shaking shoulders as she tried not to laugh at your sorry attempt.

Robin was the only one who noticed, but she found it intriguing to let it play out. So she said nothing.

"You know, I think shy girls are cute," The man hummed as he looked at you, completely forgetting he had a job to do as he leaned closer to you with his head on his hand, "Tell you what. You give me one night, and I'll give you this entire order for free. How's that sound, hm?"

You weren't even that shy. You were just out of your comfort zone. But that didn't matter right now as discomfort prickled your skin.

Nami's head also whipped around at that, sensing that it was definitely going into the too far territory. Unfortunately, she was now aware of Luffy's presence and the growing anger in his stance. He was really heaving now, no longer from exertion but from anger at seeing another man so brazenly trying to get you to sleep with him.

Nami had to call it off. She should have guessed that a man shamelessly checking women out like he had would be as gross and egotistical as he is. And also if she did not intervene she feared that Luffy was going to level the entire building.

She didn't even get three steps before Luffy also decided he had to intervene. He went right up behind you, shamelessly pressing himself against you and just about pinning you to the counter in front of you. One hand landed on your waist while the other rested on the wood in front of you.

He leaned down a bit, his mouth closer to your ear as he all but glared up at the man. "Who's this, treasure?" Luffy asked you, his tone low and dripping with jealousy. You knew something was up, because Luffy never used pet names with you.

You swallowed thickly at his proximity and the feeling of his hands on you, your face heating up as you suddenly find the wood very interesting. The man at the register straightens up, recognizing the man in front of him and the danger he was in just based on the glare he was receiving.

"Ah- Sorry, man," The man stammered, looking around rapidly for a potential escape before his eyes locked on Luffy again like he were watching a predator about to strike, "Didn't… know she was taken. Haha…"

That did not seem to appease Luffy one bit as he straightened up a bit, openly glaring. Most dangerously, however, was the cocky smirk that began to appear on his face. "Mm?" He hummed before he giggled, now looking down directly at you as his hand tightens on your waist, "Maybe I should mark ya later, hmm? Could make ya real loud, too. Whole island'll know y're Luffy's."

Luffy's eyes narrowed at the thought before he looked back at the man with the cockiest grin known to man, "Didja know she really likes it when I stretch my-"

"OKAY! Okay!" Nami finally interjected, slamming a handful of beli on the counter and grabbing the clothes, "Half price because you were harassing my friend, bye now!"

The man couldn't say anything before Nami was pushing you and Luffy out. Luffy's head swiveled like an owl just so he could glare at the man the entire walk out of the building and then some — only turning his head back straight when some of Robin's arms bloomed on his shoulders and forced him to look straight ahead again.

"Haggling isn't for everyone, you know?" Nami rapid fired, both from nerves and from anger at how the man acted towards you, "I'll handle haggling, don't worry about it. Yeah… Yeah."

She was just rambling at that point, clearly just trying to keep Luffy from blowing over and storming back to the building. Luffy was silent though, walking very close to you with his hand low on your back. His face was set, the jealousy still simmering beneath the surface. Robin could tell the look in his eyes, and she whispered something to Nami.

Nami glanced over and swallowed thickly, nodding.

The rest of the crew had been waiting at the bottom of the gangplank by the time you returned to the Sunny, chatting idly. Sanji perked up at the sight of the women, dimming a bit at Luffy being there. He opened his mouth to speak, but Nami held her hand up and shut him up.

"Let's… Sleep at an inn tonight!" Nami announced, causing everyone besides Luffy to look at her. Luffy's eyes were on you.

Usopp was about to ask why, but one look at Luffy had him reconsidering the ability to speak. The others got the hint as well and rushed off. Some, Zoro, did so with more annoyance than others.

"Huh? Why are we sleeping at an inn?" Chopper asked as he rode on Zoro's shoulders, looking back at you and Luffy with worry, "Why aren't they coming? Did they fight?"

"I'm sure they'll work on it," Zoro answered gruffly, not even wanting to look back. Chopper only made a dissatisfied noise but he left it at that.

It did not take long after they were gone to find yourself underneath your captain in his bed. He was frustrated, he was jealous, and his cock was so hard in his shorts that he felt like he was going to explode.

"That guy pissed me off real bad," Luffy admits through gritted teeth as he fumbles with getting his shorts off. You nodded dazedly, still stunned from how he acted in the store as you pushed your own pants off.

"Who th'hell does he think he is, anyway?" He spat, his hand stroking his cock as he reaches over, using his free hand to grip your underwear and tear them off of your body.

You yelped, staring at the torn fabric with a pout. "I liked that pair, you brute," You lightly teased, trying to ease at least some of the tension in him.

He grunted in acknowledgement but he didn't laugh, "Kay. I'll buy you more," He muttered, dragging his cock along your dripping slit with a moan. He may be pissed off, but he still wanted to make sure you were wet enough, "Fuuuck.. Not from him, though."

He paused, grinning slyly as his jealousy flares, "Actually, maybe I will buy from him," He huffs, starting to push his cock into your hole. You gasped, your back arching from the stretch.

"Let'em know that I ripped y're pretty underwear 'fore I fucked ya real good and deep," He hissed, laughing breathlessly as he reaches the hilt, his hips pressed tight to yours, "Maybe I'll take ya right after this, when y're still drunk on m'dick, when m'cum is drippin' from ya."

He accompanies his fantasy with a rough thrust that jolts you forwards with a strangled gasp. He grits his teeth with a grunt, his hands settling on either side of your head and gripping the sheets. His hips start a steady, relentless tempo that steals your breath each time — each drive of his hips echoing wetly in the room.

"Maybe even take ya when y're still on m'cock," He whined, his hands gripping the bedsheets at the feeling of your gummy walls hugging him so nicely with each punishing thrust, "I'll carry ya there with y'still impaled on me."

Your hands grip at his shoulders, your nails digging into his rubber skin so deeply that it causes it to tear. Luffy didn't even notice, the pain was miniscule compared to what he gets in battle near daily.

"Pussy's soooo nice t'me," Luffy groaned as he pounds into you with wild abandon, panting and whimpering between every rough push of his hips, "He'll never feel it. Never ever. All mine! Fucking- All mine!"

He was pussy drunk at this point no doubt. His eyes were glazed over as he watches his cock push into your slick hole, rutting into you with more fervor than even his own brain could keep up with. His skin felt like it was on fire, but his cock kept telling him to take more and more.

You were no better. His dick always hit the right places within you, the rubber nature of it making it so it always molds and bends to wherever you need him most. And even in his worst moods was he always attuned to exactly what you needed and craved from him.

He was sweating heavily, droplets falling from his hair and chin with each aggressive thrust and landing on your own sweaty body — his chest glistening and dripping. He groans loudly, his hands leaving the bed briefly as his hips stop.

You blinked up at him through your haze, wondering why he stopped when it was feeling so, so good. He was panting, taking just a second to breathe, before he was gripping your ankles as he leaned back. He eased your legs up and over his shoulders, his hands now settling on your waist as he leans forwards to bend you in half.

More and more, he kept going until you made a face. His elbows now rest beside your head, his face level with yours as his hips start to move again with the same reckless rhythm as before. He felt deeper now, punching parts of your insides that you knew no other man would ever be able to do.

Your hips were slightly raised from the angle, giving him just the right angle to hit the spot inside of you that made you see stars. When he saw your jaw go slack, silent moans escaping your mouth because every devastating thrust forced the air from your lungs — he knew he was doing well.

He laughed, the sound coming out broken from the exertion. The wetness between your legs was loud and sloppy now each time his hips met yours — needy and wanting. His cock faired no better inside of you, flooding and coating your walls with copious amounts of precum as he began to near his end.

He wanted to cum with you, so he held off and focused his thrusts on making you reach your peak. He knew you were close too as he felt your velvet walls beginning to clench, trying so very desperately to drag him in and keep him there. As if he wanted to leave right now.

He was so lost in it, so lost in you, that he briefly forgot why he was mad. It did not matter anymore, because at the very least you had come back with him — at least he was the only man for you. He would be damned before he let any other man out perform him, or even let them get their hands on you in the first place.

You were his, and he was equally yours.

"C-Close, Lu~!" You gasped out, your back arching as you clawed at the sheets beneath you. Luffy nodded, whimpering as he told you he was close as well.

His hips picked up the pace, desperately trying to find your peak so he could finally fill you up. His thrusts were uneven as the wild tempo began to falter, his cock throbbing in your scorching depths as if it were pleading with him.

You cried out his name as his head fell to your shoulder with a shuddering whine, cumming around his cock hard. Your walls squeeze him tightly, so perfectly, that he could only manage a few more erratic thrusts before he was spilling inside of you with shuddering thighs — biting into your shoulder to leave a mark as he does.

The two of you stayed there for a moment, basking in the feel of each other before he pulled out slowly, shuddering from the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, and dropped your legs — rolling off of you to lay beside you.

He stared up at the ceiling, panting and blissed out, "Sorry," He muttered, finally apologizing for what happened at the store.

"No, you really aren't."

He wasn't. And honestly, you weren't really complaining because of how well you just got fucked by him.

His arm opened for you so you could cuddle with him, but you needed to get up first. He blinked at you as you got up as if you just told him you were executing him by morning, completely betrayed.

"Sorry. Need to use the bathroom first. A UTI is the last thing I need."

He blinked again as he watched you go, searching his brain for whatever that meant. Somehow, it came to the most outlandish conclusion that quite literally made zero sense for the context of what you said. But it's Luffy, so it wasn't the most shocking.

His brows furrowed as he jolts up, practically jumping out of bed to chase after you.

The damned thing was an aphrodisiac, a kind of strange stimulant that you’d never encountered before. Once you’d finally found an entry on it amidst the pages of your botanical reference books, your stomach dropped with dread. You’d had the plant aboard the ship for days, though thankfully it had been secluded to the closet serving as your sad excuse for a room - you were cramped in there with your books and tools and that stupid flower, none the wiser to what it was slowly doing to you.

You’d been exposed to its pollen for days, breathing it into your lungs as you pondered over it, touching the delicate petals and coming away with soft grain on your fingertips. At least you weren’t dumb enough to have ever thought about consuming any part of the plant - that would have made things truly unbearable, as you’d come to learn that that was the fastest means for its reactions to take hold.

At first, you thought maybe the flower wouldn’t have any effect on you, considering that you hadn’t felt any different in those days isolated with it. And even once you’d found another entry in your encyclopedia detailing its slow burn results, you thought that perhaps you’d incorrectly assessed it, again because you felt nothing.

But after three days around the thing you felt… something. A twisting in your stomach, a heat stoking at your core. You tried to ignore it as the day went on, but with each passing minute you could feel something taking over - Usopp’s smile made you antsy and nervous, Nami’s pretty legs crossing one over the other shot desire through you like lightning. Shit, you had no business getting all worked up about your friends like that, but it was simply out of your control.

And it only got worse when Sanji tried his usually fruitless flirty tactics, lingering close enough that you could smell his enticing musk, his suddenly silky voice forcing you to clench your legs. Once that happened, you all but booked it away from everyone else and locked yourself up, only leaving your room to chuck the offensive flower overboard in a panic. There was no way you’d risk keeping it here even a second longer, because just your luck the pollen could somehow get to the rest of the crew, too.

You’d already been cooped up in your room for an entire day, feigning illness. Everyone had stopped bothering you after you practically screamed at them to get the hell away from you. Save for Sanji, annoyingly, who simply couldn’t help but check in on you regularly, offering food and drink and even company.

Sanji had probably done so a dozen times before you couldn’t take it anymore.

You caved to your impulses, throwing open your door and yanking him inside abruptly. You pinned him against the door, hands twisted in the front of his jacket, eyes crazed as you looked into his face. You could feel his body heat, could smell him overwhelmingly. Sanji - blissfully unaware of the state you were in - looked far too pleased to be pressed between you and the door, eyes gleaming and grin cheeky.

You loathed to tell him what was going on - you didn’t want any of your fellow Straw Hats to know about this embarrassing predicament you’d landed yourself in. The plan was to stay locked up until it passed, but Sanji just wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Look asshole,” You spoke through your teeth, body clenching at that stupid smile on his face, a wave of heat washing through you, “there’s… an issue and it’d be better if you stopped bothering me.”

“An issue?” Shit, was his voice always that hot? Despite the twisting in your belly, your glower darkened in an attempt to dampen this ridiculous pining.

Frustratingly, his wolfish grin grew larger, and with a sharp intake of breath, you dropped your gaze before you could do something bad, “Yes, an issue, and it’s not your business, so go away.”

“You don’t look so good,” Sanji began, tone sultry - or was that just in your head? As if he was testing your limits, he lifted the back of his hand to your forehead, and you all but jumped with a gasp, “God, you’re on fire. Maybe a little tea to make you feel better?”

“No.” You relinquished your grip on his jacket, needing as much distance between you two as possible, though this damn room was so cramped it wasn’t nearly enough. Sanji looked you up and down curiously, and even that had the unfortunate effect of causing desire to pool white hot inside you.

“Soup?” He offered in a taunting voice, evidently finding your current state amusing, not realizing the enormity of it. His brow furrowed some as he moved towards you, to which you pointed in harsh warning.

“Sanji, just go.” You insisted, trying to resist your urge to jump his bones, to drag him back towards you without restraint.

Though still grinning impishly, he held his hands up in surrender, and, shit, that look on his face dared to make you wet, “I don’t like seeing your beautiful self unwell like this, I’m just trying to take care of you.”

Unexpectedly, you moaned at Sanji’s words; his flirtatious remarks had never worked on you before, and you so wished you’d had more control than this.

Your illicit sound caused both your eyes and Sanji’s to widen, and shamefully you tried to step back, but your legs bumped your mattress, meaning you had nowhere to run as you looked about yourself in a panic.

Though there was uncertainty in his gaze, Sanji’s eyes still gleamed with mirth, he still smirked with playful intent. He gave you another slow once over, eyes crawling the length of your body; you had to press your lips tightly together to hold back any more noises that dared to come out of you, your thighs clamping stiffly.

When his gaze eventually trailed back up to meet yours, you clenched your hands, nails digging into your palms, feeling tense all over with how desperate you were for some kind of release. There was something salacious about Sanji’s stare - you could no longer tell if it was real or your imagination. As if he could sense the effect he was having on you, he grinned wickedly.

“If you do need anything,” he started, voice so much more appealing than it had any right to be. He took a careful step towards you, looking between your eyes intently, “you know where to find me.”

A small whine caught in your throat, and you prayed it was quiet enough to be imperceptible. You had to drop your gaze, feeling utterly flushed with heat. But your luck had already run out for the day, because Sanji dipped his head some, and you caught that alluring musk of him again, making you stir.

“What is going on with you?” He teased before stepping back. He turned, hand twisting the door knob when you abruptly blurted out.

“That stupid flower did something to me!” Your words came out fast, slurring together; you weren’t sure what came over you to babble without a thought, but the pollen had seriously dampened your impulse control.

Sanji stopped and quickly spun back towards you. No longer was his expression flirtatious; instead, his brow knotted in concern, his hands grasping your shoulders before you even had the chance to stall him. You took a sharp breath, heat coursing deep in your center and head flustered from his touch.

“What do you mean? Are you okay?” Sanji’s worried tone just made you crave him even more, his instinct to take care of you way too enticing right now; fuck, when would this pass?

“I’m fine,” You squeaked out, thighs rubbing together desperately, “It's just…”

“It’s what?” With a focused look, Sanji felt your forehead again, then pressed his hand gently to your cheek, “You really are on fire, love, maybe we need--”

Again, your words spilled out like a tsunami, “I need you to stop touching me or I’m going to lose it!”

But Sanji didn’t move, so taken aback that he wasn’t sure what to do with you. His expression twisted that little bit more, driving you insane.

“Sorry, what?”

“The plant!” You grabbed his wrists, sure that you must look like a crazed woman right about now. You tried to push Sanji away, but he stood firm, “The pollen was an aphrodisiac and I’ve been unintentionally dosing myself with it for days! So, please Sanji, I feel like I’m about to burst and it's already embarrassing enough that I told you, so go!”

Sanji showed about a hundred emotions in the span of only a few seconds - worry, confusion, understanding, confusion again, until ultimately landing on that dreaded, impish inquisitiveness of his. You could see the exact moment it all clicked, that gleam of delight at your expense, that relishing curiosity. You practically threw his wrists away when you realized that you were still clutching them, groaning deeply with frustration.

Oh, how you loathed the glee in Sanji’s expression; you’d try to slap it away, except you feared doing so would just make you wetter than you already were. As he looked you over again with that trademark grin, you clenched your legs again, toes curling.

“Aphrodisiac?” Was he taunting you? “So that means--”

“Yes, it means I’m horny, okay!?” You hated how feral and aggressive you sounded, hated the way your attitude only seemed to bring him greater entertainment. With a dramatic, vulgar sigh, you dragged your hands down your face, turning away; when your shoulder bumped Sanji’s in your retreat, you jolted with a gasp.

“Well, isn’t that something?” God, he was enjoying this far too much.

“Sanji--!”

“Wait, wait.” He insisted. You closed your eyes, trying to take a soothing breath, but your body just wouldn’t calm down, the desire burning inside you only grew hotter now that he was in on your secret, “How long is this going to last?”

“I really don’t feel like talking about it right now!”

“I’m only asking--” You cut him off with a mean groan, whipping back around to glare at him. Once more, he held up his hands, but the shit-eating grin on his face was enough to make you throb. He waited a beat before trying again, licking his lips far too sinfully for your liking, “Maybe… I can help?”

“Oh my god.” You whined, your body yearning in spite of your better judgement, his suggestion making your pussy clench with the need to be touched. Foolishly, you met his eyes, which only did the job of making you want to throw yourself at him, “Sanji, don’t be stupid--”

“Is it stupid?” He insisted, stepping into your personal space again, your head dizzy with yearning. He ducked his head, eyes staring into yours earnestly, a look not quite like his usual coy ones, “Because, look, would I enjoy a little romp with you? Obviously.” You mewled smally, to which surprise briefly flashed across Sanji’s face, “So, if you think it might help, then by all means, just say so.”

You bit down hard on the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your desire in check, because you feared that you could burst any second now. Though you tried desperately to look mean and glaring, you felt far from intimidating; if that wanton look on Sanji’s face was anything to go by, then you failed miserably.

You wished that you wanted to say no. Oh, that would be so much better than agreeing to Sanji’s offer, because doing something like that with your crewmate - your friend - sounded like it would open up a whole new kind of trouble. But just the idea of it made you squirm, made your body coil like a spring; even just a moment’s thought about the things you could do made your eyes flutter.

You knew better than to go along with it. You weren’t so far gone that you couldn’t think, after all - you knew this could be bad. Unfortunately, the pollen had other ideas.

“No one can know.” You bite, body clenching again.

Sanji shrugged agreeably, playing it casually, “Of course.”

“And it won’t happen again.”

“Sure.”

“… Okay.”

“Okay.”

You stared at each other for a long beat, your chest heaving, Sanji’s eyes hooded as he shamelessly took in your expression.

God, you hoped you wouldn’t regret this.

The space between you was small already, the warmth of his breath across your cheeks causing you to shudder; the corner of his mouth quirked up in response, finally sending you over the edge.

You flung yourself at Sanji like a woman starved, winding your arms around his neck, bodies crashing together ungracefully. He was so damn sturdy, barely stumbling back as your lips feverishly met, teeth clumsily clashing. His arms wrapped around your middle, hands firmly gripping your back, fingers flexing possessively.

The moan that escaped you was downright sinful, your heart pounding rapidly inside your chest, body like static beneath Sanji’s exploratory touch. Fuck, you couldn’t tell if this was helping or hurting, your core hot and cunt pulsing, your jumping under his tender fingertips. It was pathetic the way you clung to him like a lifeline, bodies flush and mouths brazen.

As your fingers tangled in Sanji’s hair, a groan rumbled in his chest that made you frenzied, your kisses growing sloppier, tongue snaking between his lips. God, his taste was intoxicating, his tongue twining with yours, his hands unyielding nonetheless gentle as he groped at your body. Rolling your hips against his, you made yourself whimper at the feel of his firm chest, his pelvis pressing to yours.

Maybe you should have done this sooner.

Determined not to break from Sanji’s luscious lips just yet, you blindly spun the two of you around, his calves bumping the bed. Understanding what you wanted, he gripped you tightly while dropping down atop the mattress, drawing you into his lap as you moaned again.

Mouths heatedly pressed together, you shifted to better straddle Sanji’s fit legs, his cock twitching near your center. If your head wasn’t already spinning you may have been embarrassed by how wet you were, soaking through your panties.

Sanji’s hands wandered, squeezing your ass hard enough to make you gasp, using his grip to grind your hips down against his. You tugged roughly at his hair as you moved together, rutting back and forth along his growing length, clenching with the need to be filled.

Your mouths were greedy, tongues feverish, kissing as if desperate for one another’s air, noisy sounds of pleasure humming in both your throats. Sanji’s hips bucked just right beneath you, meeting you in time with the deep grind of your hot pussy.

When finally he broke from the kiss, a string of drool connected your lips, a whine sounding from your throat. Keeping up his slow, steady rhythm, Sanji met your eyes darkly, drinking you in with utter desire; you damn near came just from that look alone.

“However you want me,” he whispered against your lips, noses brushing, breath mingling. Your hips stuttered, to which he greedily grasped your ass and matched your rhythms again, “Yours to do with as you please.”

“Fuck--” You couldn’t help but gasp, feeling impossibly more turned on. You almost hated him for how damn effortlessly those sultry words came to him, grinding your hips roughly against his cock, delighting in the way his eyes momentarily crossed, “Promise?”

A short, lustful laugh escaped Sanji, his fingers groping you nice and tight, “Like this, love, I’d promise you anything.”

Another desirous sound whined in your throat as you captured his lips in a searing kiss, fire scorching bright inside you. Hips rutting rapaciously, your hands wandered down his neck and torso, shoving at his jacket as if it personally offended you. Urgently, Sanji threw it off before he grasped at you again, not wanting to lose a moment of exploring your body.

The flex of his muscles beneath your hands was maddening, taut and strong and just asking to be bit and kissed. You frantically worked the buttons of his shirt, nearly popping them as you worked your way down, down, down till the damned thing was open. Your fingers slid along Sanji’s washboard abs, causing you to groan because, fuck, this was the body he’d kept covered up all this time?

As if you couldn’t trust your touch, you split from Sanji’s lips to lean back and drink in the sight of his body, hissing desirously at how damn good he looked. Your nails scratched up his sides, over his pecs and abs, and when your lustful eyes turned back towards his, you practically keened at the focused way he was watching you.

Holding eye contact, you leaned down to nip at his chest, causing him to yelp; your body tightened as you giggled hungrily, mouth trailing up his collarbone and neck, kissing just below his jaw. Sanji leaned his head back as he twitched between your legs, letting you ravage his skin, biting and sucking and kissing to your hearts content, hickeys or teeth marks be damned.

As you all but consumed him, Sanji’s hands slid up the back of your shirt, palms hot as he traced your skin, arching into his touch. Both of your hips had fallen out of rhythm, and so Sanji reached up to grip the back of your neck, pulling you away so he could meet your eyes again.

“Let me touch you.” It sounded like both a question and an instruction, your cunt tight with utter desire. You nodded, catching your breath, and then Sanji abruptly flipped you onto your back.

Splayed on the bed, you ogled as Sanji brushed back his hair and dropped his shirt to the floor. You bit your lip, eyes hooded as he crawled over you; he pressed a single, dizzying kiss to your mouth, pulling back before you could latch onto him again.

As if understanding your urgency to be touched, Sanji’s hands reached beneath your shirt again, yanking it over your head speedily, exposing your hot skin to the cool air before he did the same thing with your shorts. You wiggled under his wandering gaze, drinking in every curve and blemish of your body like you were a three-course meal.

He lowered his mouth to your chest, biting your breast as you had done to him earlier; you bucked and gasped, feeling his smile against you. He sucked at your skin, insistently creating a hickey just above your bra, meanwhile reaching between your warm bodies, fingertips grazing over your pelvis, to which you whined.

Sanji sighed longingly as his hand moved lower and lower, teasing at you through your thin, damp panties; you clenched with a wanton mewl, desperate for so much more of him. Kissing far too tenderly over the hickey he left behind, his mouth trailed down, tongue gliding a wet trail along your stomach, ghosting along the flimsy fabric keeping him from you. For a moment, you held your breath, hands eagerly twisting in the bedsheets.

Hooking his fingers in your panties, Sanji tugged them down to your ankles, his hot breath teasing near your clit as you shucked the undergarment away with a wiggle of your foot.

He lingered painstakingly, and you looked down your nose at him, brow knotted with impatience, mouth agape as you sucked in  a breath of air. His eyes were large and black with lust as he, too, glanced back towards you, expression both sweet yet taunting. You were tempted to reach out and grab his hair, to guide him towards you, but even in this fervor you managed to refrain, though you weren’t sure how long that flimsy self control would last.

“Look at you…” He sounded awestruck, and the lust in his tone made longing swirl tight around your heat, toes curling.

Now, you did reach out, fingers weaving into his hair a little more roughly than intended; it felt as if you had less control the more your desire continued to stew.

“Sanji, please.” You whispered keenly. The sound of his name on your lips like that stirred something deep in him, his gaze dark and craving, “I… shit, I need you.”

He grinned wickedly, though even the taunting in his tone was flirtatious, “About to come undone already?”

You nodded, eyes pleading, “I’m like a fucking cat in heat.”

Sanji chuckled, breathing hot against your clit, causing you to twitch, “Oh, love, I’ve got you.”

And with that, he plunged a finger inside you without warning, a surprised mewl leaping from your lips as you threw your head back. God, there was no way in hell that alone could feel so good, and yet your eyes crossed, hand flexing in Sanji’s hair. He, too, groaned at the feel of you as if utterly enthralled.

Under his breath, he groaned faintly; you were so wet, clenching around his finger, making his cock twitch in his trousers. He pumped once, twice, before sliding a second digit between your slick folds with ease, wasting no time or teasing; your body was so utterly ready for him that it was intoxicating.

The pace of his thrusts steadily picked up, your hips rolling with his movements, gasps escaping your parted lips. Your head lulled, swimming with lust as your body pulsed around him, limbs twisting pleasurably.

Fingering you greedily, the scent of your desire hit Sanji, his hips bucking against your leg in need of friction.You felt nearly pathetic, the way you rocked against his hand, the way you writhed with moaning satisfaction. Even his heavy breathing, hot on your inner thigh, sent burning waves up your spine; and when he pressed the heel of his palm against your clit, you fucking shuddered.

God, you thought this would help, but Sanji’s fingers buried inside your cunt only seemed to make you wetter and needier, as if nothing would be enough to satiate you. And when he spread his fingers wide, stretching you out deliciously, you cursed that damned plant, even as pleasured whines slipped past your lips.

As he fingered you nice and deep, Sanji’s mouth trailed hot, wet kisses along the inside of your leg, sighing contently at the taste of your salty skin on his tongue. His fingers hooked, curving up into your cervix, palm steadily massaging your clit as you keened unabashedly, toes curling and knees shaking, yanking roughly at his hair. With a hiss, he bit your flesh, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to surprise you, your hips bucking again.

“Fu-uck--!” You whined, his hand unrelenting as your eyes crossed, orgasm washing over you with a surge. For that split second, it was utter bliss, vision starry and limbs melting; but like some cruel joke, your body almost immediately grew tense and tight and desperately unfulfilled again.

That stupid plant.

You tugged encouragingly at Sanji’s hair, meeting his gaze over the swell of your heaving breasts - he was still knuckles deep inside you, eyes blown and an enthralled grin on his lips. You caught your breath, pussy clamping around his fingers, causing him to moan deep inside his chest; your body shook from the aftershocks of pleasure.

“I need more,” You instructed breathily, more like a plea than anything else. You felt as if your body was crawling, causing shakes and pulses, a twisting heat growing so big inside you that it hurt. Oh, that small bit of logic still within you was embarrassed at the way you were practically begging Sanji, needing him to make you feel good.

“My pleasure…” He said huskily, immediately tossing all of your embarrassment out the window because, fuck, he was so hot right now, making you feel so good, taking care of you like this--

Then his mouth was on your clit in the next instant, and you could have fucking burst right then and there. Your hips bucked up against his warm tongue, Sanji using his free hand to keep you down, fingers flexing in the fat of your thigh. A contented hum vibrated in his throat and your pussy, making your knees quake.

Bursts of pleasure pulsed through you as Sanji sucked your clit, his fingers continuing their wanton pumping, slower and deeper than before, pressing delectably against your cervix again now that he realized just how frenzied it made you. Your hand twisted in his hair, pulling eagerly as your hips rocked against his mouth, eyes rolling back with sinful mewls. Fuck, his tongue was goddamn perfect, swirling where you were most sensitive, lapping from pussy to clit, teasing as he slowly pulled his fingers from you before plunging back in.

Your legs were already shaking again, buzzing with satisfaction; Sanji groaned deeply at the sweet taste of you, and your knees nearly clamped around his head with a gasp.

His fingers stopped pumping, pulling out of you so he could ravage your pussy with his mouth instead. You jolted as his tongue dove between your folds, his hands tightly grabbing your legs to keep you still.

You threw your head back, drool pooling on your tongue as you rode against Sanji’s mouth, tugging his hair harshly, struggling to keep your legs spread for him. He consumed you like a man starved, licking along the strip of your cunt, diving into you, nipping your clit. Every single touch was like electricity shooting through your veins, body twitching and jumping, at the will of Sanji’s touch.

His tongue was feverish, growing sloppier and more insistent, fucking in and out of you, his own hungry sounds driving you crazy. Your body felt out of your control as you writhed, legs shaky in Sanji’s hands, hips stuttering with each lap of his tongue, fingers twisting tightly in his hair.

“Fuck, please, please--!” You muttered a nearly incoherent mantra as your hips rolled greedily, hands tugging harshly at his scalp. Sanji knew exactly what he was doing to you, mouth gaining urgency, causing your legs to nearly clasp around him again; but still, he kept them wide open in his grip. The titillation was practically unbearable as you wiggled beneath him, crying with delight, quaking as your vision went black with another earth shattering orgasm.

As you came, eyes crossed and expletives escaping you, Sanji continued his ravaging, eating you out as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste. The stimulation was nearly overwhelming, whining high in your throat, hands yanking at his hair again and again because you felt so damn good that it nearly hurt.

He finally relented, coming up for a gasp of air. His lips were shiny with your slick as he grinned wickedly, delighting in your blissed out expression while crawling up your body.

Catching your breath, that scorching heat reignited like an unscratchable itch, causing you to groan desperately in Sanji’s face. He chuckled, an enticing rumble in his chest that made your body ache for him. You could smell your fragrance on his mouth as he hovered over you, arms braced either side of your head as your noses brushed.

“You alright, love?” He spoke against your lips, the taste of yourself drawing another hum from inside you.

You wound your arms tight around Sanji’s neck, catching his lips in an impassioned, feverish kiss. Hooking your ankles around the back of his legs, you drew his body atop yours, rolling your hips against his straining erection and causing him to grunt. Your tongue snaked past his lips, tasting yourself everywhere.

As you rubbed your body with his, Sanji’s hand cupped your jaw with a surprising tenderness. There was something almost romantic about it, and you found that thought so intimidating that you abruptly broke away from the kiss, darkened eyes finding his urgently.

You ached again, the lustful needs of your body feeling like a drug high, pussy still wet and desperate, an ache coiling greedily within you. Sanji’s dick teased you through his trousers, and you ground against it insistently.

“Sanji,” the way you whined out his name caused his cock to twitch, both of you gasping with hunger. Normally, you wouldn’t speak so plainly, but considering you weren’t exactly in your right mind, the words just spilled out of you, “It’s getting worse.” When he raised his brow, you elaborated while slowly grinding against him, “Everytime I come, I need more.”

Sanji’s jaw hung slack, enjoying the way you moved against him, enraptured by your unrestrained ache for him. His voice was low and erotic against your lips, “I told you to use me, didn’t I?”

You whined again desperately. Even as you burned for him, you managed to taunt, “Confident you can keep up?”

But even that quip conjured thoughts of all the ways he could make your body feel good, and your legs flexed hungrily around him. If you weren’t so high with need, you would have glowered at that dangerous look he gave you, but unfortunately, it just made you want him more.

“For you? Oh, I could do this all day.”

You tightened like a spring, a desperate moan in your throat as you clumsily began to fumble with Sanji’s trousers, practically ripping them off in your haste. For a moment, the two of you were an awkward tangle of limbs as he shoved out of the remainder of his clothing, skin hot and sweaty to the touch, dick grazing along your stomach and pelvis as you grew hungrier for him. Your nails raked along every bit of skin you could reach, dragging along his abs and waist, trailing down his back to the curve of his ass, where you dug in just a little.

Sanji propped himself up on his hands, drinking in the sight of you as you ripped off your bra, the final offensive article of clothing flung away blindly. You took the opportunity to cast your gaze down between you, licking your lips as you eyed Sanji’s cock, red and swollen and just right.

God, you couldn’t believe that you’d just written him off this entire time, that all this time you ignored this striking man with his wicked smile and sultry eyes, his goddamn perfect physique and--

“Droolin’, love?” He teased, drawing your eyes back up. Yes you wanted him deep inside you, you wanted to take all of him; but you weren’t so foggy with desire that you couldn’t taunt him back.

“Are you?” You ask with a jeering curve of your brow. Impulsively, you opened your mouth good and wide, sticking your tongue out flat with a look of anticipation.

Sanji let out a long breath at the sight of you like this, his eyes growing dark as he grasped your jaw. Much as you would have enjoyed him to be rougher and more domineering, it wasn’t quite in his nature; no, his grip was firm yet careful, finger and thumb squeezing your cheeks as he drew you up to meet him halfway. Without breaking eye contact, he spit into your open mouth, your body shivering, surprised that he followed through with it. You swallowed with a cheeky, flirtatious smirk.

“Fuck…” Sanji muttered, dragging you up for a brief, searing kiss. You grabbed at his hips, nails digging into his skin, growing impatient for him to make you feel good again. His lips broke from yours, pressing your foreheads together, “How do you want me?”

The question alone made you whine, cunt clenching. The instruction left your mouth before you had time to think about it, “On your back.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sanji grinned, one arm wrapping around your middle and hastily swapping places with you, sheets tangling as you nearly fell off the edge of the narrow bed.

Your head was swimming with need now that you were on hand and knee over Sanji, so hungry for him that you wasted no time ogling his body or nipping at his skin the way you normally would with a lover. No, you were desperately wet, and you needed him inside you now or else you may lose it.

You felt like an animal, the way you situated yourself over Sanji, reaching between you to give his hard cock a single pump in your hand before guiding him to your entrance.

Staring into one another’s eyes, you sat back on his dick in one slick motion, taking him to the hilt as you both groaned shamelessly, his thighs flexing beneath your ass. You lingered for a moment, cunt pulsing around him, Sanji’s hands gripping your hips, chests heaving. And as if he lit the fire inside you, you began to bounce up and down the length of his shaft.

“My god…” He growled, eyes back and fingers squeezing your hips as you bobbed on his dick, so goddamn slick and wet, bracing your hands atop his sturdy chest. He filled you so well, thick head pushing into you with each drop, sliding between your walls like he was meant to be there.

Oh, being on top was a bad idea, you realized as your eyes crossed, your neediness making you sloppy as you rolled your hips, your bouncing rhythmless as you chased your high. But it felt so good, every damn part of you, the fullness of Sanji’s cock making you dizzy, the way he stretched you out, the way he held onto you almost possessively. Shit, you couldn’t tell what felt best because you were so sensitive, going wild for how deep he reached, for the way his head caught inside you because he couldn’t pull out at this angle, the bit of pressure against your clit each time you moved.

You leaned back, steadying your palms just above Sanji’s knees, the shift causing his dick to meet your cervix, your head lulling back with a cry. You ground your hips in an eager, hectic pattern, clenching and whining at how full you were, gasping as Sanji bucked up into you to get that little bit deeper.

Shit, you were too horny and wet, that damned pollen making you feel like you were on the verge again, every minuscule movement felt good enough to make you cum already. And you knew you would, over and over again, Sanji’s cock fitting like a glove, thrusting against your sensitive clit, filling you to the brim--

“Fucking made for me--” You whimper like a woman possessed as you cum suddenly, abruptly, overwhelmingly. Your nails dug into Sanji’s thighs, body going rigid as you stared up at the ceiling. He twitched inside you, the both of you moaning together at the sensation. If you had the wherewithal, you would have been embarrassed by the thing you blurted out, by the fact that you came so fast again, but already desire was winding back through your body with no end in sight.

“Another one already, love?” Sanji whispered with a mystified grin, lazily rocking his hips with yours, hands trailing up to grope your waist and breasts. All you could do was hum with satisfaction, back arching as he tweaked your nipples. He gave a particularly deep, calculated thrust into you, delighting in the way you mewled, “Ah, but you’re not done yet.”

“Not even close.” You challenged, even as your voice wavered.

Sanji squeezed your breasts firmly, urging you to lean down towards him; he kissed you chastely before dipping his head, your back arching as his tongue swirled one of your peaked nipples.

As he bit and sucked at your breast, his hand massaged your other; his hips slowly began to thrust up into you again. Whimpers spilled past your lips over and over, Sanji’s cock hitting you a little harder each time, his tongue and teeth on your nipple causing your head to spin.

His hands trailed down to grab your ass while his mouth continued ravaging you, giving one cheek a firm slap before pressing you down on his cock. You were so hungry for him, needing more even with him balls deep, needing him like fresh water.

Sanji sucked a dark hickey on the inside of your breast, lips popping as he broke away from your skin. When he looked up at you through his lashes, you cupped his jaw and kissed him earnestly, which was far too intimate considering that this wasn’t supposed to mean anything. The thrust of his hips faltered for a moment, as if he, too, realized the warmth of it, but he quickly sped up his rhythm as if to compensate, skin slapping skin as you groaned into one another’s mouths.

When you gasped for air, you kept your forehead to Sanji’s, the angle of his pelvis rubbing against your clit making you clench and shake. His breath was hot on your lips as his cock drove into you, hand slapping your ass again just to hear you whine.

“I ne-eed--” Your voice hitched, his dick burying particularly good into you, “--need deeper.”

Sanji huffed out an ensnared laugh, thrusting inside you then lingering there. He rolled you against him, captivated by the way your pussy tightened around him, “Deeper?”

You bit down on your lip as he taunted you, grinding your hips together, “Mhm…”

Sanji’s nose grazed along your cheek and down your neck, mouth ghosting along your skin as he spoke lowly, “In that case: up.”

He stopped grinding, spanking your ass again encouragingly. You pushed yourself back to sit atop him, and Sanji’s brows rose pointedly.

“Up.” He repeated, and you then realized what he meant. You lifted off his cock, crying at how empty you were as Sanji pushed out from under you. As he stood, you eyed him up and down like a slab of meat, sighing longingly at his goddamn hypnotically perfect cock. He grasped your chin, tilting your head back to look up at him; he looked good like this, taking charge and commanding.

His gaze trailed from your eyes to your mouth then back to your eyes, a silent instruction that you eagerly obliged, opening your mouth so he could spit into it again. Your cunt tightened as his saliva hit your tongue, wet and needy for him to be back inside you.

Sanji gave you a swift kiss before releasing your chin, watching through hooded eyes as you arranged yourself doggy style before him, though your narrow bed forced you to brace your hands on the wall beside it. You peered back over your shoulder, arching your back impatiently as he simply took a moment to ogle your alluring body.

Just as you were about to whine with frustration, Sanji leaned over you, grabbing at your hips and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck. You pushed your ass back, the full head of his cock brushing against your curves; he took in a deep breath of your scent, face in your hair, causing you to shudder.

His lips were so soft and sweet along your skin - too sweet, considering the carnal need eating you from the inside out. Maybe under any other circumstances you would have enjoyed Sanji’s tenderness - not that you’d dare tell him as much - but at the moment, all you could do was groan insistently while pressing your ass back.

“Sanji, fuck me.” You urged, causing him to lift his head and meet eyes over your shoulder; you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but there was something serious in his gaze. Just as quickly as you noticed it, though, it was gone, Sanji leaning back to regard your ass, one hand squeezing it while he grabbed his erection in the other, lining himself up with your entrance.

His head nudged at your cunt, teasing up and down the slit, prodding at your clit. Just the baiting alone made you yearn, back arching again needily. He met your eyes once more as he slowly sunk into you, this new angle causing vulgar moans to escape you as he so easily bottomed out, filling you completely. Fuck, he got so deep, head just prodding at your uterus, your pussy constricting around his girth.

He lingered, as if allowing you to adjust to his size, though you were so damn wet and high that you just wanted him to fuck you till it hurt. With a drunken look in your face, you pushed back against his hips, mewling with satisfaction, hands flexing against the splintering wall. Behind you, Sanji, too, groaned, reaching around you to swirl his fingers over your swollen clit; the sensation caused your head to lull back, falling onto his shoulder.

You were damn near tempted to beg for him, to plead that he take you rough and quick. But as the words almost left your mouth, Sanji pulled out, stopping when all that was left was his head, before slamming back into you. You yelped with surprise, eyes crossing as he began to pump his hips, sinking into you over and over, so fast and deep that it was nearly painful - exactly how you wanted it, that goddamn mindreader.

The sounds spilling from your lips were so crass and pornographic - you were never so vocal before, but now you simply couldn’t help it. Not with Sanji’s cock buried perfectly between your folds, his hands squeezing your hips, his mouth hot on your skin. You couldn’t be sure if it was the damned plant making you like this or if it was really, simply him.

As Sanji fucked you like he was the one who needed it, you curved back into him, his chest to your back, hair tangling as his heavy panting blew across your face, the angle of your neck allowing you to rest your sweaty forehead against his chin. God, his own grunts of pleasure were all-consuming, making your cunt tighten and your knees shake; you had to grope tightly at the wall for purchase, feeling as if you could lose your grip at any moment.

“This how you want it?” Sanji muttered hoarsely, to which you hummed eagerly, “More?”

“God, ye-es,” You slurred.

He immediately started snapping his hips with even more intensity, a deep cry leaping from you. He leaned into you heavily, bracing his hands on the wall either side of yours, and you felt like you were going to come undone from how good he made you feel, how his hard cock plunged deep into you, how his hips slammed against your ass urgently.

Shit, there were stars in your eyes as you took him, pussy soaking wet and clenching tight, legs shaky with pleasure. You couldn’t help the way your limbs began to dissolve into jelly, struggling to stay upright, arching as you pressed forward, cheek to the wall in front of you, drool teasing as the corner of your mouth.

Feeling you melt on him, Sanji’s arms snaked around you again, cupping your breasts and forcing you back against him, sweat slick between your bodies as the angle change caused you to keen. His hands were delectably rough, one fondling your nipple as the other snaked down to your front, lingering just out of reach from your clit. His fingers splayed across your pelvis, pressing you back into him firmly, holding you steady as his cock thrust up into you.

“Really am made for you,” Sanji grumbled into your hair, teeth nipping at your ear. With the way your head spun, you nearly forgot what you’d said earlier until he recalled it, the gruffness of his words making you pulse around him. He moaned deep in his chest at the feel of you, hips driving with particular intensity, the pressure above your clit making you dizzy.

Sanji’s hand on your breast trailed up your neck to your jaw, urging you to turn your head so he could kiss you sloppily, his tongue shoving hungrily into your mouth, thrusts unrelenting.

When your lips broke apart, he kept you there, forehead to yours as he groaned, “Say it again.”

The request made a spring tighten deep inside, a moan falling from your mouth into his. Again, under different circumstances, you’d be nearly embarrassed by your dirty talk, but now it just made you wetter.

“Your cock was made for me,” You mewled, voice hitching, lips brushing Sanji’s with each word. He whined, hips persistent up against yours, only encouraging you, “Fits me so fucking good--”

Unexpectedly, his cock slammed up hard into you, the both of you yelping as he stiffened and held you tight. You could feel him cumming deep inside, twitching and grunting, filling you to the brim. And you were right there behind him, turned on so much by the fact that he was spilling into you; you lost control with a wild cry, body trembling with your release.

For a long beat, the two of you stayed just like that, tangled together and panting heavily. Your head was still spinning, Sanji’s cum slowly leaking down your thigh; and like the curse that just wouldn’t quit, your body lit up again carnally, ready to keep going and going and going.

“Shit,” Sanji hissed into your hair, finally coming back down to earth.

The both of you quivered as his hands dropped to your hips, easing himself slowly out of you with a low keen; the loss of him caused his seed to ooze out of you, soaking the inside of your legs. He rested his sweaty forehead between your shoulder blades as he caught his breath.

“Sorry, I didn’t think I’d cum that fast.”

You hummed contently, blindly reaching back to knot your fingers through his hair. Even as your body ached for him again, your lips curved up with jest, “You can do this all day?”

To your teasing, Sanji roughly squeezed your hips; you could feel his smile against your clammy skin, “Oh, I promise that. Just gimme five minutes.”

True to his word, Sanji recovered in record time; you spent those few minutes waiting touching yourself, though even that couldn’t make you feel as good as he did. That goddamn pollen was unrelenting - you’d lost track of how many orgasms you had once Sanji returned to you, using his hands and mouth and cock to bring your ruination time and again. And even then, you kept begging for more.

By the time your body had stopped burning, you realized just how spent you really were, muscles aching in all the right ways, limbs quivering even while you did nothing.

Fuck, even once you were back in your right mind, you couldn’t stop thinking about Sanji - that was the best fucking sex of your life, but how the hell could you tell him that? This was your crewmate, your friend, an obnoxious flirt, and, apparently, some kind of sex aficionado, considering all the ways he managed to make you cum. Once he eventually left the safety and comfort of your room, the spell would really be broken, you weren’t sure how you were ever going to look at him normally ever again.

But right now, as you watched him redress slowly - because he was just as worn out as you were - you tried not to let the panic set in. You were certain there was no fucking way you could just be normal with him moving forward. The thought that you and Sanji would be sharing a secret this big made something coil inside you, and for a moment you nearly panicked, thinking that maybe the plant’s effects hadn’t totally worn off and were back with vengeance.

But, no, it had nothing to do with the damned pollen. You realized, frighteningly, that it was completely and utterly you getting worked up thinking about what Sanji was able to do to you; your reaction had nothing to do with that plant at all.

You weren’t certain if Sanji could tell that you were panicking, because you weren’t sure what was going on in his head, either. Yet, when he met your watchful gaze while shrugging into his shirt, he gave you that dazzling, gorgeous grin of his, and you couldn’t help smiling back; though, the butterflies swirling in your stomach filled you with something akin to dread.

Sanji bit the inside of his lip as he studied your face; it seemed like he was trying to make up his mind about something, which only made you more nervous.

Before you could think or react or stop him, Sanji swiftly dipped down to where you lay on the bed, tenderly cupping your cheek and swooping in to steal a kiss that made your heart skip a beat inside your chest.

Shit, maybe this did mean something after all. And that terrified you most of all.

.

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Addt, Author's Note | Been a little while since I've written smut, so hopefully this wasn't just repetitive or disappointing lol. I don't totally love the ending, but it isn't the worst, so c'est la vie~

Of course, Luffy proved that wrong.

Tears pour out of his eyes as he witnesses his own captain waiting for him. From the looks of it, he hasn't eaten for many days— the bones in his body, the structure of his jaw too prominent for a normal, well-fed human.

Sanji could not help but feel frustrated.

Luffy would never let that happen. The others do feel the same way, especially you. Getting in trouble with one of the Four Emperors did not scare you one bit.

It was losing Sanji that did.

“Sanji..” His captain weakly calls out to him.

Luffy's appetite immediately became stronger as he picked up the scent of Sanji's cooking. Opening the bento box, it may look unappetizing, yet he did not hesitate to pick up a chunk of the food—he immediately recognized that each food holds a significance to his crew.

“SO YUMMYYYY!!”

He picked up the cooked pasta with his fork. Luffy was already replenishing his energy. "This is [Name]'s favorite food!” He lets out a giggle, savoring the twinge of spice in his taste buds.

Sanji's frustration waver at the mention of your name.

What face do you have right now? Will you ever forgive him?

Maybe it is for the better if you find someone else better than him. Sanji's heart clutched at the thought of you being with someone other than him. His eyes landed back on his captain, who was happily enjoying his food.

"Sanji, I'm here for you."

Wearing a white tuxedo, he remembered his moments while in enemy territory—how Pudding looked at him with such “love” even though deep down, Sanji knew her true personality.

"Can you make this for me?"

Your words rang over his ears, suddenly feeling his heart beat fast. He furrowed his eyebrows, missing the way your smile brightens up his entire day.

The way your scent makes him swoon when you walk past him, the way you reciprocate his flirtations without hesitation, the way your casual touches on his skin send him to a spiral of bliss, and the way you protect him when he has to deal with women who are considered a threat to his friends.

You're the only one.

When he hadn’t heard your voice from one of Brulee’s mirror pieces, he figured you were upset.

You should be. He could never blame you.

Hearing his friends' voices made him feel relieved. He was so touched to hear them miss him. They were crying for him, for his sake.

The guilt doubled over when you walk passed by him while being inside Capone Bege's devil fruit. It hurts when you still acknowledge him with a dim smile— as if he did not betray your heart.

He would rather have you act like Nami. It was too pitiful, undeserving of him to see you act kind towards him.

Have you not harbor any hatred at him at all?

Or have you finally moved on with another man which is why it is easy for you to brush him off?

.

“Sanji!”

Nami, Carrot, and Chopper shouted out to him with relief in their voices. He wore a grin as they latched onto him, taken aback when Sanji witnessed how Nami's teary eyes gazed upon him, making him touched.

“You guys..”

A moment of peaceful silence passed after successfully getting away from the enemies bombing them, with the waves of the ocean breezing to fill the noise.

Nami parted her mouth open.

“She's waiting for you inside, y’know,” She informed with a sentimental tone, making Sanji's heartbeat pick up. He can imagine his courage slowly slipping away at the thought of having to face you.

Sanji dragged his whole body inside the ship. His nose picked up the scent of someone cooking—the spices of bell pepper made him realize that you were cooking a dish. “[Name]-chan?”

Your ears finally perked up, hearing Sanji's voice for such a long time. You switch off the stove before turning to him. Sanji blinked before getting close to you with an endearing look, “You don’t have to tire yourself out! It’s my job to feed you all.”

You gaze at him without speaking, making Sanji wallow in guilt—you were free to shout at him, scream at him, hit him, and just let out your frustrations.

“[Name]-chan, l..”

Sanji’s lips quiver; tears were about to spill out of his eyes, making you alarmed. You immediately walk towards him, resting your hands on his shoulders while he wears a good white tuxedo.

“Why are you crying?” Your voice rang softly in his ears, making him sniffle. He can feel your soft fingers wiping the dirt away from his face.

You know the answer, but for once, you can't give yourself to be mad at him. You were just so glad to have him back on your ship.

Fingers wiped his cheeks, making him look at you with so much vulnerability. “You look good in a tuxedo, Sanji.”

You want to lighten up the mood with that remark, making only you chuckle in response to your own statement. “I didn’t you were that eager to be married that much,” You tease with a smile.

“I miss you, Sanji. I’m very glad you’re back,” Your fingers run through his blonde hair, getting a feel of his stubble—pinching the loose skin.

This makes you furrow your eyebrows, noticing that he looks skinnier than usual. "Have you been eating? Why do you look like you faced hell?" You click your tongue. “Did they beat you up? I expected something better from the Vinsmokes.”

Yes, he faced hell. Not only did he have to get to meet his shitty father again, but he had to face the harsh truth of the woman that he had to wed, who mocked his situation.

That his cooperation with the marriage did nothing to spare not just your lives, but his sister’s and his family in the East Blue—he was truly hopeless for him to rely on a half-assed relationship to avoid his problems.

Sanji wrapped his arms around you, and you let him. You missed the warmth of his embrace. He buries his face on the crook of your neck, your scent comforting him.

His mouth opened a little while holding back a sob.

You are a woman with a gentle and kind soul; he feels unworthy of your care. His knees already gave out as he let out an ugly sob; your arms automatically wrapped around his body. “Shh… shh…”

Sanji wept quietly, loving the warmth of your embrace as he took a shaky breath to calm himself down. He rested his head on your chest, letting himself become comfortable with getting vulnerable with you. No flirty remarks, no worshipping, no swooning—just a heart-to-heart talk with you.

He looks into your eyes with longing, wanting to show you how badly he missed you. How he wants to touch you more. How he wants to be closer to you than before.

But Sanji knew it wasn’t his right yet to love you until you had forgiven him. He pushed himself away from you, sitting across from you while turning his head away out of shame.

He should be ashamed! Who does he think he is?!

“I'm sorry, [Name]-chan. For hurting you, for not relying on you all..”

His words touched you, your hand caressing his jaw. You gave him a soft smile when his eyes already met yours.

Sanji flinched in response because all he can see is warmth and love in your eyes. It makes him want to curl up in a hole for experiencing such a blessing.

Don’t do this to me. Sanji thinks in sorrow and guilt.

“[Name]-chan… please get mad at me, punch me, beat me up, or even ignore me! Just please… you do not deserve to be with someone like me.”

.

“Is that so?” You look at him with an amused smile, enjoying how he panics. The blonde cook in front of you keeps muttering apologies and several ways to punish him for being a bad crewmate.

You tug his tie before your lips crash with his, effectively shutting him up with a kiss.

He was too shocked at your action, making his mouth agape. You slid your tongue inside his mouth, taking the opportunity to make him quiet. Your ears met with a whimper. “Nn—!”

Both of you exchanged salivas, the desire and the tension between you two fueled. Sanji wants to control himself and pulled away out of shock before it gets even farther.

“W-Why?”

“Don’t you have to make it up to me?” Your lips whispered like honey melting his mind, the ringing inside quieting down at the sensation of your lips peppering kisses on his neck. “Sanji, I only want you.”

Ba-dump

Did he hear you right? His heart is beating erratically, your confession rendering him speechless. Because he thought all of it was just one-sided.

That you’re only indulging in his flirtations out of boredom.

Ba-dump

“[Name]-chan!”

He can feel his blood rushing to his cheeks, his body trembling. Sanji choked on his saliva when he saw the hunger in your eyes while guiding his hand in underneath the hem of your dress.

The blood rushes down to his cock.

“Do you know how difficult it is for me to finish without you?” You whisper in his ear sensually, making Sanji gulp down the saliva in his throat at your erotic words—he lets out a breathy groan when he boldly slips his fingers into your panties, feeling the damp spot by rubbing you through them.

What color are you wearing right now? He feels his pants getting tighter.

It feels so warm in his fingers. He notices how your face tries to not scrunch up in desperation for more friction at his slow pace. He moves your panties in one side, the feeling of your wet pussy lips triggers his fingers like an electric shock.

Sanji tests the waters by giving a slight nudge on your clit with his finger, making you gasp. He crashes his lips once again over yours, swallowing your moans when he slips his fingers inside your cunt and slowly thrusting them with acute precision.

Shlick. Shlick.

You are so wet for him. He spreads his fingers apart inside your pussy— making your breath morphed into a muffled whine when you bite your lip.

You sound too beautiful, he doesn’t want the others to hear you fall apart. His cock desperately wanting to be free with how cute and messy you’re falling apart from his fingers.

The lust inside your body heightens quickly when you watch him lick his fingers and moan like he has tasted the finest dessert. “I’ll make it up to you, sweetheart,” he starts while his hand slowly falls on your lower back, peppering kisses over your neck. “In my room,” Sanji continued breathily, feeling himself salivate.

Fuck. Your sly hand untying his tie, quickly unbuttoning his shirt before you two head to his quarters with an intense gaze—he lets himself get dragged by you with a dazed grin.

“Because who am I to not please my dearest?”

But blazed or not, Enjin still has a job to do. Umbreaker sweeps him across the trash dunes in a speedy blur, but by the time he arrives he is already too late and the show is over. 

All that’s left is you: a young woman passed out in a pile of demolished trash beast remains and other junk. The giant kaiju-like plushie—now inanimate and no bigger than a hand—lay beside you tethered to your person by a keyring. 

Happening upon another giver in No Man’s Land wasn’t out of the ordinary, sure, but if Enjin thought he was high from seeing your jinki in action he had to be damn near in the clouds once he recognized your clothes.  

Similar to when Enjin discovered Rudo, he could immediately tell by your dress you are a Spherite. But unlike the threadbare attire of the scrappy tribesmen teen, yours practically screams wealth. They are the finest clothes Enjin has ever laid eyes on. Appearing as if they are woven from gold itself, despite the fresh layer of grime that settled on them.

You aren’t just any ol’ Spherite—you’re a Spherite noblewoman.

Keh, interesting. 

With a shake of his head Enjin scoops you up, heading back to HQ. They aren’t gonna believe this…

Enjin digs out a backup mask from his satchel—clearly not made for your face, because it slides right off. With an annoyed sigh, he holds it in place himself. Guess that’s his job now… at least until you wake up.

Although Enjin soon discovers a pattern of how unnecessarily difficult Spherites can be upon arriving to the Abyss—as the first thing you do upon waking in Enjin’s arms is to slap the everloving dogshit out of him. 

Fuck, you have a mean right hand. 

Enjin tongues a tooth to make sure it’s still there. 

“Let me go this instant, you filthy kidnapping degenerate! I demand you to take me home!” You cry out. 

Tears fog up the mask on your face as you clearly mistook Enjin for some kind of criminal with his ‘full face’ on. Enjin sighs, tightening his grip on you and taking the not-so-painless beating you’re dishing out until you reach the nearest city. 

The very second you both are in a habitable area for breathing, Enjin unceremoniously dumps you to the ground. He catches the mask, yet he leaves you to fall straight on your ass. The fall shocks you but Enjin’s sure what’s really got you stunned is the strange bustling city surrounding you.

Removing his fullface, Enjin crouches down to eye-level with you. Overwhelmed and overstimulated by the foreign place, your eyes dart around helplessly. You’re frantic, looking everywhere for some sort of bearing of where you are and avoiding the man in front of you.

Yet Enjin just waits, clicking his tongue and rocking back on his heels, for you to quiet your hysterics enough for him to get a word in.

When your eyes, still wide with panic, finally meet, he has the nerve to raise a brow—like you’re the one being dramatic and not the guy who literally kidnapped you.

“So, as you may have noticed by now…this ain’t the Sphere,” Enjin says, balancing a cigarette between his lips. 

You look at him skeptically—he says it like it’s nothing, while your world is actively falling apart. What is he even talking about?!

“I know this ain’t the welcome wagon you posh Spherites are used to but…”

Enjin pauses, exhaling smoke to the sky. Your gaze follows up, widening once you see the oddly shaped dome covering the city, a strange yellow fog in the atmosphere.

“....welcome to the Abyss, Girlie. Name’s Enjin.” 

Blankly staring at Enjin, you say nothing. The both of you in a mini stare down. Although you’re the first to give by suddenly bursting into sobs.

Rolling his eyes, a thought briefly flashes in Enjin's head that he should have just left you for the raiders. Hell, he could still leave you now—you’re calling way too much attention to yourself.

However, Enjin also figures that with you all but swimming in luxury on the Sphere, you probably thought of the Pit—your so-called Hell, or its inhabitants as mere fairytale.

Enjin’s inkling is confirmed when you calm down enough to piece together that your now ex-husband had hired a bunch of shady tribesmen to kidnap and dispose of you—all to collect your inheritance. 

Yeah, not your fault.  Enjin thinks and cuts you a break. 

For your own sake, Enjin somehow convinces you to come back to Cleaner HQ with him. He can’t return you to the Sphere himself—but he knows another Spherite who’s trying to make their way back. That small glimmer of hope is enough to lift your spirits, just barely. This time, you follow him willingly—though you still cry the entire way to HQ.

Shame how prone to hysterics you are, otherwise Enjin actually thinks you’re pretty hot. Noting how the expensive silk of your dress clings so damn well to your every curve. He’d sell your clothes while you were near the shopping district—but unlike Rudo, he doubts he could talk you out of them. 

At least—not yet.

But that thought is drastically short lived as Enjin spends more time in your presence. Sure, you could have gotten along. You could’ve even been Enjin’s type. Yet there’s one glaring problem: 

You’re an annoying, needy-ass brat.  

Besides looks, you tick off nearly every one of his dealbreakers. You’re ditzy, dependent and whiny. Basically Enjin’s nightmare.

Plus your snobby little ass never once thanked nor apologized to him over the following weeks.

Not after he saved you.

Not after he brought you back to HQ where you were welcomed with skeptical, yet open arms—as a new, very reluctant (you had no other options really) recruit in-training.

And you certainly never thanked Enjin, even after all his shit luck, when he was assigned to be your teacher and look after your haughty ass. You have the most indignant pout on your face when Corvus announces that since Enjin found you, you're Enjin’s problem.

“You have to be kidding me? I’m stuck with Trashy Poppins here!?”

“Yo, Trashy—what!?” The reference doesn’t land with Enjin but he knows it isn’t good.

Semiu nods curtly in agreement of the pairing, amused that Enjin finally has someone to keep him on his toes as she ushers you off to get settled in.

The fuck?! 

Lamenting being stuck is supposed to be Enjin’s line. Enjin had figured the logical move was to pair you with Zanka—the closest thing to nobility among the Cleaners—and let you bond with Rudo, a fellow Spherite, even if he was a tribesman.

But it doesn’t take long to realize neither boy can handle a grown ass woman like you. One flutter of your lashes and they’re useless saps—like the big sister he never had, you could soothe Rudo’s worst moods with a mere head pat. 

While Zanka, older and appreciating your more ‘robust’ qualities, trips over his own tongue trying to talk to you.

Both ready to do anything just to earn a few sweet coos—unless someone steps in.

It had to be Enjin. He was the only one who could ‘resist’ your charms.

Still, Enjin’s got his work cut out for him when it comes to you—especially training you for combat and figuring out how the hell you’re supposed to use that so-ugly-it’s-almost-cute vital instrument.

He tries not to judge. Really, he does. Jinki are personal—he knows that better than anyone. But still…the fact that you even have one? That’s wild.

A Spherite? A noble Spherite, no less—the same pompous assholes who treat the Abyss like a dumping ground—actually caring enough about something to pump it full of anima?

Yeah, that’s impressive, he’ll give you that. What wasn’t though was the name you gave the lil thing: Bubu.

Tsk. Wack as hell. Vital instruments deserve names with some bite. Something like—Umbreaker.

Still, credit where it’s due—you’re picking things up faster than expected. 

However, that doesn’t spare him from your nonstop bitching, though. The complaints come daily: the strange smells your hair absorbs, the absence of your sacred skincare routines, not being able to take a 30 minute shower, and how everything down here always tastes just a little off.

But the most absurd? The cherry blossoms.

You complain the most about not being able to frolic in your lush, petal-covered garden full of rows of cherry blossoms. Enjin’s never even seen a damn tree like that, let alone the acres of grass and flowers you describe like some bedtime fairytale. You haughtily anoint yourself as a floral herbalist, an expert when it comes to your pretty little flowers.

It’s shit like that on top of everything else that irks Enjin when it comes to you.

And yet?

Enjin thinks the most irritating thing about you is the fact that he can’t seem to stay away from you. 

Sure, you’re annoying as fuck—but in spite of his own objections, Enjin keeps finding ways to keep your time occupied. He makes up excuses to train you longer and drags you along on missions that are solely meant for him. 

Moreover, since you can never keep that pretty little mouth shut, anyone you meet clocks you as a Spherite within seconds—which means you need Enjin’s constant protection, whether you like it or not.

Enjin ends up spending less time drinking or chasing women, finding a far more amusing pastime instead—the way your face twists in indignation every time the Ground doesn’t live up to your so-called “noble standards.” 

He gets a kick out of it, really. Agitating you on purpose, just to watch you squirm.

“Goddamnit, Enjin! Watch it!” 

You’d shriek every time your short skirt went flying from a sudden gust of wind he’d whip up with Umbreaker. Enjin saves that lil trick for No Man’s Land when the others’ backs are turned.

“That’s Enjin-sensei to you, Princess.” 

“Choke—slowly, Trashy Poppins.”

You’d lunge for his mask like you actually meant to rip it off, but at 6 '3, Enjin’s tall enough that you never have a chance at reaching it. It’s all worth it too—Enjin’s already got every pastel scrap of lace you own burned into memory, each one tucked away like a reward for getting under your skin.

It’s a little sadistic, sure—the way he taunts you nonstop, delighting in soiling that polished image of yours to grind you into the dirt of the ground right along with him. 

There’s a fire in your eyes every time Enjin dubs you as “Your Royal Trash Princess”—or just “TP” if he’s feeling lazy. You never fail to rise to his bait, eager to prove yourself—and prove him wrong.

Enjin feels he’s owed a bit of amusement for all his troubles.

Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet the more Enjin pushes, the harder it is to ignore that your bratty spark isn’t just an attitude problem. It’s energy. Real, raw passion. The kind that could actually cultivate anima. He sees it best when you’re snapping at him, flushed and defiant, too stubborn to back down.

It’s trouble to be sure, but fuck if Enjin doesn’t love coaxing it out of you.

All it took this time to get you going was him doubting your so-called knowledge of plants and remedies— “what kinda ‘floral herbalist’ hasn’t toked one?”  

So now here you are, in the HQ lounge, about to smoke your first joint as a ‘pre-game’ to the happy hour Corvus organized for all the Cleaners.

You and Enjin sit shoulder to shoulder on a worn, black quilted-leather sofa that’s seen better days. The cushions creak as you nervously smooth your skirt and settle in, unhooking your jinki—Bubu—from your belt to set her gently on the table.

Enjin rolls a few joints with unhurried precision—like he’s got all the time in the world, and watching you squirm is part of the ritual.

“Bet ya didn’t have anything like this in your lil’ garden, eh TP?” Enjin quips, breaking the silence.

Nose already upturned, your face scrunches as Enjin tosses an extra bud from his stash into your open palms. You hated the nickname ‘TP’ most of all, too easily mistaken for ‘toilet paper’ and Enjin knows that.

You shoot Enjin a dirty look before letting your focus drift back to the brittle sprig in your hands—the first real plant you’ve touched since becoming a Ground-dweller.

You think you actually recognize it. 

Back on the Sphere, your family was among the wealthiest, and your garden was massive. You took pride in your green thumb—like Delmon, whose garden you’ve been meaning to ask about. You want to help, if only to see what kind of plants can survive in conditions this toxic. But Enjin never gives you the space—always hovering, always cutting in before you can finish a full conversation.

You brush off those thoughts but your frown stays as your fingers trace the bud’s dry veins. Even for a dehydrated sample, it feels wrong—brittle in a way that hints of sickness. 

“Hmm. We had something like this—I think. But it’s just another weed.” You say shrugging.

“Heh,” Enjin smirks at your cluelessness, “Would you believe me if I told you ‘weed’ is exactly what we call it, Princess?”

You roll your eyes at the inordinately simple name. It probably has a proper scientific designation—but expecting Enjin to know it? Please.

“We always uprooted them—weeds are unsightly in gardens, you know. A weed, let alone one sick as this, would definitely be pruned right away so as to not syphon nutrients from the other plant life.”

“HAH?!”  

Mid-seal on his joint, Enjin stops cold, staring at you like you just dared to commit some sort of sacrilege before exhaling a theatrical sigh, shaking his head in pure betrayal.

He can’t believe Spherities are probably pissing away the dankest shit ever cultivated. The thought was maddening.

When Enjin’s eyes do meet yours again, there's no amusement as he takes a rather chastising tone with you.

“Princess, for your own good, never repeat that in front of anyone down here…I mean it.”

You huff, but Enjin doesn’t blink—just starts sealing the joint again, eyes never leaving you as his tongue drags slowly across the edge of the paper.

You squirm, and that’s all the reward he needs. 

“See somethin’ you like?” Enjin drawls, holding the finished joint out toward you like it’s a gift—and not a trap with your name written all over it.

Turning on teacher mode, Enjin decides to school you.

“I know we mostly have ‘reggie’ down here, but still, it’s worth its weight in gold for its purposes. Not just for fun ya know—chronic pain, nausea, anxiety—gives a bit of relief from the ailments of Abyss-living you Spherites have so graciously bestowed on us.”

From his pocket, Enjin produces a lighter, shoulders curling as he bows into the flame to set it alight.

Your eyes flick over the sinewy stretch of Enjin arms, the way his jacket strains across his shoulders—reminding you just how solid Enjin really is beneath all that shapeless fabric. Built like a weapon, hiding in plain sight.

You watch as his ringed fingers lift the joint to his lips. Drawing in a slow, steady breath, Enjin sinks back into the sofa like gravity’s got a tighter hold on him than usual. Smoke pools in his chest before slipping out in a long, deliberate exhale.

His gaze follows it, distant—like he’s chewing on thoughts far heavier than anything you said… but somehow still set off by it.

“That’s the problem with you Spherites….you don’t see things the way they are—you see things the way you are.” 

Enjin chuffs at his own words, closing his eyes to let his high settle. Not even completely stoned yet and he’s already spouting off pseudo philosophical one-liners.

“Everything else is collateral, amirite?”

Ouch.

Toeing at the floor, you sulk in silence. Wounded from the verbal licks Enjin just dealt you. Mulling over his words in silence though, you know it isn’t that simple. Horticulture can be complicated even in the most ideal conditions. Just because a plant is viable doesn’t mean it belongs in every garden—some plants are just incompatible.

However…

You sit silently, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you study the brittle bud in your palm.

…that doesn’t make it worthless.

Instead of exploring any potential use, you tossed the so-called "weed" out—just like everything else the Sphere deemed useless. Not even considering how valuable it could be. You can see why Enjin wouldn't want you repeating that mistake. Enough people already looked at you with disdain as it is. 

Sure there’s a lot of things you miss about it, mostly superficial things that had to do with vanity, but overall life up there was super sterile and dull. You’d never say it out loud but you are glad you fell, it was hard on the ground but it was liberating.

Sighing, you quietly concede. You hate anytime Enjin actually has a point though. It’s the worst thing imaginable—for your pride and for his already unbearable ego.

Cracking an eye open, Enjin curses under his breath. Switching tactics, he decides to replace the long look on his Trash Princess’s face. Annoyance would do just fine. Besides, there was no need for you to pout over it, you actually had a shot at redemption here… heh, the kind that might just work out in his favor, too.

“Y’knowwwww, we’re always learnin’ better ways to grow things down here, faster too...”

Enjin moves so quietly, you don’t realize how close he is until you turn—and he’s right in your face, barely a breath away. Swiping his ringed thumb across your cheek, Enjin’s touch is surprisingly tender. However his expression is entirely obnoxious, full of amusement from how fast your pouty little face flusters.

“...could be a nice little hobby that would do alotta good…and if anyone could figure out how to grow this shit properly down here—”

Enjin plucks at the heat of your warm cheeks, pinching just enough to tease and drag the moment into something more lighthearted.

“—I do believe it could be you—Trash Princess.”

Your eyes catch something deeper than just teasing in his golden gaze—but before you can dwell on it, instinct kicks in. You jerk back, swatting his hand away, shoving whatever that was out of your mind.

Enjin just laughs, unbothered, as you glare at him.

“And why can’t you get Delmon to do it?” you counter, arms folding across your chest. By now, you’ve learned Enjin usually has an angle for everything.

Right on the mark, for a beat, Enjin actually pauses. He hadn’t expected you to bring up the obvious—Delmon, the gentle giant practically martyred to the idea of saving what’s left of the Abyss. But Enjin’s roguish grin slips back into place, spreading wider as he leans in, unapologetically invading your space.

“Why? Well...’cause I asked you, Princess. The ol’lug has enough on his plate as it is. You can handle it alone, can’t ya?”

Truthfully, even knowing your interest in Delmon never strays beyond roots and soil, it still irks every time Enjin catches sight of you with him. You look every bit the noble—graceful, composed, eyes soft and curious as you gaze up at Delmon, eager to learn. It grates on Enjin more than he’d admit, knowing he’s never once gotten that look, despite monopolizing most of your time.

“Ya know—unless, your skillset just ain’t up t’par?” Enjin finishes with a shrug.

Wholly unconvinced, you see this for the bait it is from a mile away. Nevertheless, you can’t deny that you are eager to get even the tiniest bit of normalcy back in your life from your old hobbies. Planting something, anything, would be nice—even if it ends up being contraband for Enjin. Although you still aren’t quite sure why you can’t consult Delmon. 

“Ugh! Fine!”

You fall back onto the sofa and Enjin follows, his arm settling behind you, practically draped around your shoulders. You don’t even flinch. He takes another slow hit, smoke curling toward the ceiling, but this time there’s a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you. Deciding he’s babysat the joint long enough, he leans in with a lazy smirk and holds it out to you.

“Enjin—your eyes!” You blurt out, disregarding his invitation. “Is that just from smoking!? I can’t go to happy hour looking like some kinda zombie!”

Enjin sputters mid-laugh, coughing as wisps of smoke leak from the corners of his smart ass grin.

“Eh, well duh. Why else would they get so red when I smoke?”

Enjin coughs out a few more chuckles. You roll your eyes.

“I don’t know, Trashy Poppins…I didn't make the connection since the air quality down here is 80% pollution! You could have anything.”

While Enjin is amused by your sass, the joint continues to burn down. Each second unsmoked is wasting precious bud. Leaning in, his voice drops to a low purr—the kind that makes your stomach flip.

Heh, time to pull out the big guns.

“Aht-aht-aht, c’mon now, Princess, you know the golden rule…”

You sigh, thinking you need that happy hour drink more than ever right now.

“You’re not serious.”

But you know he is, and of course you remember the silly motto Enjin makes an unspoken rule for his team. Although he mostly just uses it to get you to do something you’ll usually regret later.  You sigh, knowing you’ll never make it to happy hour until you appease the big man-child in front of you.

Enjin’s golden eyes shine with even more mischief than before and together like some damn mantra, you both repeat:

“...it’s not peer pressure—it’s just your turn.”

Resigned, you click your tongue, swiping at the joint in his hands. But Enjin is much faster as he pulls back with infuriating speed. You glower at him, snark locked and loaded.

“Nah, actually I’ll help you out since it’s your first time, Princess.”

Innuendo coils around his words, heat radiating off him as you tense under his gaze. You don’t want to argue with him though, the sooner you smoked, the sooner you both could be at happy hour.

“Open.” 

Enjin’s fingers graze the corner of your mouth as he holds the joint to your peach-glossed lips, eyes darkening when you part them obediently for him.

“Now breathe it in, nice and slow…deeper. Yeah, that’s it—hold it. Don’t let go until I say—good girl.”

You want to scoff at him, but you can’t—not with tears stinging your eyes and smoke burning its way down your lungs. By the time Enjin gives you the nod to exhale, you’re already choking, coughing it all back up in ragged plumes.

Yeah, this was nowhere in hell as easy as Enjin made it look.

The buzz rises in your head almost instantly, an airy haze creeping into your consciousness.

“See? Not a terrible cherry pop, eh?”

The glare you throw at Enjin is more of a squint. Still recovering from the fire tearing down your throat, your coughs earn you a few heavy-handed smacks on the back from Enjin. If it’s out of comfort or mockery, you can't tell. 

Everything in the room is spinning and becoming more distant, like a daydream.

“Easy there, breathe—it’ll hit easier when ya figure out how to grow it right, Princess. The dank shit won’t burn this hard.”

You want to bite back that even if you do figure out how to grow the damn ‘weed’ plant, you’d never touch it again. But the sudden heaviness seeping into your limbs drags you down, tilting your head on the axis of equilibrium.

“I think, no—I know, I need to lay down.”

Not waiting for permission, you flop down onto the worn cushions beneath you, curling up awkwardly with your head leaning against the armrest and your legs dangling off the seat at an angle. 

Enjin doesn’t miss a beat though—he scoops your legs into his lap, tugging off your boots so you can be comfortable.

Leaning back, perfectly at ease, Enjin holds the joint in one hand while the other rests on your stocking-covered shin, giving it a casual, reassuring pat. The way your arm drapes over your face tells him everything—yeah, you’ve got the spins.

“Keh, you’ll make it, Princess. Just let it all ride out.”

You’d make it alright, but not to happy hour anytime soon. Enjin supposes he might’ve let you take a bigger hit than you were ready for. 

Whoops.

Silence stretches in the aftermath but it’s not uncomfortable. Enjin takes a few more lazy tokes, one golden eye cracked open just enough to watch you, taking stock of your state. 

It’s in moments like this—rare ones, when you’re quiet—that he remembers just how fucking smoking hot you are.

Especially in that Cleaner uniform. Man, God bless August.

The eccentric tailor took special care in designing it thanks to a sudden burst of inspiration—August even convinced Enjin to allow him to keep some of the trim from your Spherite clothes that he repurposes. The outcome of your uniform is shinier, more fitted and much sluttier than standard issue. 

You took to it immediately, without much fuss and actually complimenting August. That was August’s gift though—whipping up pieces to suit even the finickiest of tastes—and Enjin had to admit, the man did his big one. 

But the real surprise wasn’t the craftsmanship. It was you—his oh-so-prim little Trash Princess—strutting around in something so damn naughty. Dressed up like a treat that Enjin can’t help but eat up with his eyes.

And whaddya know? Enjin has the munchies bad right now.

Left to his own devices, Enjin takes his time devouring the sight in front of him. His gaze lingers down the length of your legs sprawled across his lap, to the soft, exposed flesh of your thighs—spilling over the edge of your stockings just enough to make his jaw clench.

Fuck, they look so soft. He can't help but wonder how they'd feel locked around his head as his eyes climb to the next indulgence—your crop top. Rucked up to your ribs, the thin white cotton hugs just beneath your tits. Shit, the way your cute little nips poke through the fabric makes his mouth twitch with the urge to say ‘hi’ right back—with his tongue.

Is it hotter in here, or—?

Leering at you for too long is a surefire way for Enjin to pop a boner. Enjin knows he’s not alone in that either. That uniform of yours turns heads in every city you pass through. Consequently, Enjin has split more skulls because of idiots trying to hit on you or cop a feel than he ever has for anyone trying to snatch a Spherite.

Not that he’s jealous or nothing.

Nah. Just doing his job. Watching out for you. Plenty of unscrupulous assholes out there willing to pounce on a clueless little thing like you.

However, right now, Enjin’s just as unscrupulous—‘watching out’ only for a flash of your panties as each restless wiggle sinks you deeper into the lumpy cushions, bunching your skirt higher and teasing him with a glimpse of skimpy lace.

Man, just a little more and he’d know exactly which pair you picked today.

Sobering up a bit more, you sigh at your inability to get comfortable when you could feel the very springs in the sofa. Stretching, you straighten your leg suddenly and—

“Yo! Watch the feets, girl!”  

Though there’s amusement in his voice as he jolts upright, tatted hands grabbing your ankle before you’re able to land another blow.

“Ah, sorry—” You mutter sheepishly, reeling back your foot. “I didn’t mean to kick Umbreaker.”

For what it’s worth, the apology comes quickly—you’ve learned better than to mess with a man’s jinki, especially Enjin’s. You've nearly tripped more times than you can count over that bulky extension of himself that he always keeps within reach.

You know it’s serious too when he doesn’t even bother with the stupid nicknames he usually calls you. Nevertheless, you’re left puzzled when Enjin’s laughter comes out loud and sharp. 

“...that wasn’t Umbreaker, Princess.”

Huh? What does he mean that isn’t— 

You freeze. 

Carefully peeking out from under your arm, your reddened eyes squint down the length of your body and onto his. When the realization does set in of what exactly you kicked, it smacks you harder than any hit of ganja ever could.

“O…oh…—OH MY GAWD!”

Immediately springing upright, your vertigo swirls with how fast you’re scrambling to your knees as you gawk.

Time passes for what seems like a solid minute or two and neither of you speak. 

You’re staring at the crotch of Enjin’s baggy pants and Enjin is staring at you.

“Heh.”

The devious look on Enjin’s face right now could shame the devil himself. Yet you’re still in utter disbelief.

There’s no way that’s his dick!

Still, your brain won’t stop running the numbers—high girl math with clumsy calculations drawn from the fleeting brush of your toes against the long, thick mass hidden beneath the fabric of his baggy pants. Enjin’s words ring in your mind like a gong—‘that wasn’t Umbreaker…’

“You’re burnin’ a hole through my dick, Princess—”

Enjin’s voice unfurls seductively, like the smoke curling from his lips.

“—keep starin’ like that and I’m gonna think you wanna see it.”

Your eyes meet his dead-on. 

“I do.”

“Yeah, I’m sure yo—wait, come again?!”

Enjin’s grip goes slack, the joint slipping from his fingers. He was halfway to some sassy quip, ready to taunt your denial—but your delivery is so honest, with no teasing or angle to play off, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

The embers hiss against his thigh before he even registers he dropped it.

“Tch.” Cursing under his breath, he flicks it aside—it’s all roach anyway—and tries to pull himself back together.

You’re fucking with him. Yeah. That’s it. 

Smug again, Enjin leans into the bit you started.

“Ha ha…right. I know my stuck up lil’ Trash Princess isn’t asking to give me a dick inspection…”

Enjin adjusts his pants in a casual sweep that doesn’t fool either of you. He’s not brushing off the remaining flakes of ash—he’s palming his restless cock that jumped at the idea of you actually wanting to see it.

But both you and Enjin would quickly discover, despite your snobby Spherite upbringing, you lose any type of filter and sense of couth while high—blurting out your thoughts unabashedly. 

“I said I wanted to see it, Trashy Poppins. Or m’not gonna believe you’re actually that big.”

You fold your arms, huffing stubbornly.

There was no way an unbearably annoying man like Enjin was slanging actual horse cock! 

He had to be the one fucking with you here.

Well, wait, no—a cocky, stupidly sexy man having a big dick actually tracks, now that you think about it.

But still—you need to verify. For science, if nothing else. 

Yeah. Science.

Enjin blinks, taking stock of you—kneeling close, your tits straining like they’re about to burst free, and your skirt rides so high on your thighs this time, he swears one more millimeter and he’d see your panties for real. 

“C’mon now…”

Your sickly sweet coos needle at Enjin’s spine.

“...as if you aren’t always upskirting me just to see my panties.”

Shit. You knew it was intentional?

“At least you can show me your undies for a change. If you’re really that big, then I’ll be able to tell.”

The spark alight in your eyes is a challenge to Enjin, who loves pushing your limits. Now he needs to know how far you’ll go. Even if he’s completely unprepared for this turn of events, he’s sure as fuck not gonna be the one backing down first.

“S’that right, Princess? Well, I haven’t even seen yours today so—”

Enjin doesn’t even get the chance to finish before you’re lifting your skirt and spreading your knees wider. You stare up at the ceiling, the popcorn squares suddenly appearing super interesting to you. Enjin’s eyes however immediately zero-in on the pink lace stretched tight across your pussy.

Christ.

With a much closer view, Enjin picks up all the little details he usually misses—like how the hem digs into your soft curves or how the material is thin enough to see the split of your chubby lil pussy lips pressed underneath. 

Goddamn, are you intentionally buying them a size too small? 

Or is your pussy print just that fat?

Enjin gulps, mouth dry. 

His attention caught like a hook to your cunt, everything else is unimportant—including the irony of how he was just teasing you for the very same thing—it’s all utterly lost on him. His priorities shifting rapidly the longer he ogles you.

After a minute, giving him quite frankly more of his fill than he deserves, you let your skirt drop back into place. The alluring spell of your fatma breaks when your  knees snap shut and Enjin is yanked back to a world that doesn’t exist between the apex of your doughy thighs. 

All of his lecherous starring is worth it though—if only to be able to throw his own saying back at him for once.

“Now, how’s it go again? It’s not peer pressu—”

“—Yeah, yeah, I got it, Princess—My turn.” 

Enjin relents, cutting you off with a twisted grin as he shakes his head.

“Ya don’t gotta break my arm to see my dick, babe. Just makin’ sure you’re sure. Don’t need you runnin’ off telling Semiu I flashed ya.”

Semiu is already on Enjin’s ass for teasing you as much as he does. Something about him being ‘too grown’ not to ‘nut up’ and ‘come to terms with his reality’, but Enjin was never listening for long, zoning out as soon as a new lecture was underway. 

However, if your prissy ass really wants to see his dick that bad, of course he’d oblige. Hell, Enjin would get another kick outta watching your horror when you realize for real just how much he’s packing. It had been a minute since he'd seen that look on a woman.

For being as hot and charming as he is, Enjin didn’t get nearly as much play as he should’ve. He isn’t a virgin by any means, but too many women take one glance at his size and back off expeditiously.  

Life on the ground meant hustling to survive for most. Nobody could afford to be laid up for days just because Enjin’s wrecking ball of a cock tore through their walls, rendering them unable to walk—let alone go to work.

Yet with a clink, that all changes as the leather strap of his belt and gear slides free. Enjin lifts his hips enough to shove his pants down past his thighs and there it is—short red boxer briefs with a black waistband, the fabric stretched thin over the obscenely long, thick outline of his dick resting along his thigh.

Simply put, your jaw drops. There’s a static-like silence buzzing in your mind as you process the monstrous mass of phallic muscle before you.

You’ve never seen a dick that huge in your entire life. 

Clocking your shock, Enjin’s chest puffs like he’s just been crowned a king in the room.

“Relax, Princess…” he drawls, smugness saturating every word.

“I ain’t even all the way hard yet.”

Bullshit! 

Your eyes pingpong between his face and his cock before landing on the obvious conclusion—no overthinking this time.

“What are you waiting for then? Get hard.”

Enjin actually chokes for real this time, still not used to how blunt his demure lil’ Trash Princess gets when she’s high. He manages to laugh regardless once he finds his breath as he sure as hell doesn’t hate this new side of you.

“Hah?! It doesn’t work like that ya know…”

Enjin lies right through his fucking teeth. 

Just hearing that vulgar command from your prissy lil’ lips has his blood surging south, his cock swelling at rapid speed. Already on go, his dickprint thickens, straining against the fabric until threads stretch thin to form almost obscenely over him like second skin.

Yet unlike his past hookups you don’t flinch at the sight of him getting even bigger. 

There’s more than enough incredulousness on your face for sure, but Enjin half expected you to backpedal for the sake of your pussy’s self-preservation and book it out the door. Instead, the look you’re giving his dick is more akin to awe than fear.

Truly, though—you are in awe.

Men weren’t like this on the Sphere. Well, your husband certainly wasn’t.

Older than you by over a decade, your husband’s stamina was so poor he never lasted long. His size, his endurance, and his dismissive comments about your sexual appetite being perversely unbecoming for a lady of your station had you wondering if something was wrong with you this entire time—if you expected too much from sex.

But when your eyes drift back to Enjin—catching the thick vein running along his length, visible even through the fabric—you know better now. 

It was never you.

The realization brings a surge of boldness. Your gaze trails the pulse of his cock down to the wet patch blooming at the tip—so much pre spilling it seeps through the fabric. 

Enjin inhales sharply through his nose. He knows he’s proven his size, but your silence and the way you’re eyeing his cock like some kind of museum exhibit is starting to get to him. 

Enjin doesn’t want to back down as he impatiently waits for your final verdict of approval. But if you keep staring at him like that, with those big pretty eyes of yours, he’s going to come in his pants, untouched, like some fucking cuck.

“Well, Princess? Big enough for ya?”

You don’t even hear Enjin, too lost in your own thoughts. Your body, buzzed and reckless, has a mind of its own though. Reaching out, your hand leaves your lap to trace the thick ridges of his cock, mapping its shape through his briefs. 

“Oh, shiiii—” Enjin hisses. 

His lip catches between his teeth as all thoughts vanish the moment your delicate little fingers start stroking him.

“Argh—fuck. Can’t jus’ go grabbing a man’s dick like that ya know.”

Yet Enjin does nothing to stop you as your touch grows bolder. Your palm flattens around his girth—too thick for even your whole hand to wrap around, even through his boxers.

How would someone even get something that monstrous inside them!?

Encircling his leaky cockhead, you giggle as your index finger slowly tap-tap-taps the mess he’s made there, amused at how many of the small, sticky suds you can gather on your finger through the material.

Enjin’s own laugh is strangled. This can’t be real.

“Heh… fuck… you really tryna kill me, huh, Princess? Fuckin’ tease…”

You’re unfazed by Enjin’s provocations – too mesmerized by the obscenely large cock in front of you that has you squirming uncomfortably as your own panties turn swampy with heat. 

“May I?”

Meeting Enjin’s gaze, your polite innocence is accented by a wide-eyed pout that’s far too sweet for the filthy implications of your request. Like you’re nicely asking permission to play with your favorite toy—except you don’t even wait for him to give it,fingers impatiently snapping the edges of his waistband like some cockhungry slut. 

“Uh…” Enjin blanks while his dick is practically screaming at him to respond—even a damned head nod would suffice. Yet his brain blue-screens as it registers that look—the normally innocent, curiosity filled look that he's been craving since he found you in No Man's Land—now twisted into something debased and filthy.  And best of all?

Meant just for him.

Enjin’s so fucking hard right now it’s painful—and hell, if you’re planning to do something about that, he’s not about to stop you.

“Keh. Do you, boo.”

Enjin manspreads, giving you full access. You eagerly pull down his shorts just enough to release his cock, and it springs free, thick and heavy. 

Good God, he’s a big boy! 

Although you knew that, seeing the monster in all of its unleashed glory was an entirely different experience. Enjin’s dick bobs back to curve towards his abs, a shiny pubic piercing shining at his base under its shadow.

Panting, your previously dormant inner size queen activates. You have to swallow down the bucket of saliva collecting on your tongue before you choke—you can’t help but salivate at the thought of what a huge cock like this tastes like… what it feels like. 

You’re pretty sure it could break you in two, and surprisingly, the thought excites you.

Lowering yourself on all fours, the first tentative lick you give Enjin’s length has his toes curling as he grips the sofa, ripping a chunk clean off the decaying material. 

You moan out a depraved 'ahhh' once you reach the top, a little smile playing on your lips as you tongue down the hole at his tip.  Greedily, you lap up all the little dribbles of pre beading at the tip and flowing out.

“W-Woaaah—ugh. FUCK!”

Enjin’s hand flies into your hair as he clears his throat. Sure, your mouthwatering stares made a blowie likely, but diving in this shamelessly? It’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his damn mind.

You grip his base—an insurance policy to keep him from cumming—while your other hand cups his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze. His thigh jolts beneath you and you simper at how sensitive he is despite his massive size.

“T-There’s no way in hell they taught your prissy ass how to be this much of a slut up there.”

Pouting, you release his balls to cradle his cockhead against your puffed up cheek, uncaring of the amount of pre seeping across your jaw. 

“D-Do…do you hate it? My hus—um, ex said it was a turn off. H-he'd say I have 'the depravity of a slums streetwalker.”

Staring up at Enjin, your eyes are clouded with lust, yet edged with worry—like he’d threatened to rip something precious away.  But it’s only his cock you’re coddling tighter against your cheek, your lips parting just enough to chase the beads of pre that drip close to your mouth.

If you weren’t gripping Enjin’s base so hard he definitely would have blown a load all over your face. Fuck, if the thought isn’t tempting to him though – he doesn’t think you’d even mind in this state.  

Goddamn, you’re so much sluttier than Enjin could have ever imagined. 

And he’d imagined it plenty. 

Especially on nights Enjin stumbled back to HQ drunk and alone, having closed down the bar with Corvus and Gris. Left to sate his own booze-fueled boner, he’d shamelessly rut into his pillow. Yet, no matter where his perversions strayed, every faceless fantasy in the dark insisted on transmuting into you. 

You seriously think he couldn’t match your freak? 

Oh, sweetheart, you have no fucking idea.

“Hate it?” 

Enjin holds back the growl building at the back of his throat. There’s a torrent of thoughts swirling with his high all at once—all coming to settle right back into his dick. 

“Never. Show me who you really are, Princess—n’ I’ll give it right back to ya tenfold—that’s a promise.”

If you weren’t already trembling with arousal—finally free to let your freak flag fly—you might’ve shied away. Enjin’s easy acceptance of you stirs something deeper, something messy that you usually ignore before it can settle. Now, with his scent thick on your face and tongue, you’re not thinking at all—aching with the urge to all but inhale his cock.

You merely nod, flashing Enjin a coy smile before stretching your plush lips to wrap around him. Slowly, you swallow down his girth, mouth hot with suction so deliciously moist Enjin’s hips jerk up. You gag, but his firm grip on your roots keeps your head in place, forcing his length to breach your throat.

“That’s it, baby…open up f-f’er me—g-good fucking girl, Princess…”

Tears prick at your eyes as his cock pounds back of your throat. The stretch is brutal—but some desperate part of you craves more of his filthy praise. What you can’t take with your mouth, your hands make up for—stroking every thick inch your lips can’t swallow.

“Shiiiit, girl! You’re a pro at this.”

If you ask Enjin later, he’d probably call you a throat goat, however most of your “experience” came from the smutty paperbacks high-society wives hid in corsets and swapped under tea tables—not actual practice. You don’t really know what you are doing. You’re just following the book's explicit instructions. 

Still, Enjin doesn’t seem to mind being your test dummy. 

On the contrary, Enjin is more than happy to let you do your thing and he does just that. Although, the longer your head bobs along his cock, the more your skirt rides up—until it finally flips over your hips, giving him a perfect view of the cheeky lace framing your ass.

Enjin groans, gripping your ass with bruising force before sliding his fingers down to palm your pussy over your panties—fuck, you’re already dripping for him.

“Hah—uppity cunt gets this sloppy just from a lil’ dick sucking, eh?”

Enjin laughs, yet the gravel rattling in his voice betrays him. No one has ever fearlessly tried to deepthroat him and actually fucking enjoyed it. 

Unable to respond with your mouth, too busy still trying to do the impossible and fit more inside your throat, your hips respond instead—wiggling desperately against his fingers, begging for more of his touch. 

Enjin doesn’t hesitate. Slipping a tatted finger into your panties, he drags it through your folds, marveling at how wet and scorching you are. Pushing into your core, your walls clamp down, fluttering around his digit.

Oh fuck, even his fingers are big! 

A second ringed finger follows – the rough, callous fingers of a man who's seen too many fights scrape so good against all your gooey spots. Lewd squelches echo from your pussy as your throat tightens around him in tandem. The sounds, the squeeze, the heat—all of it is driving him crazy.

Shit he’s gonna cum for real this time. 

To his credit, Enjin tries to warn you—tries to pull you off before it’s too late. 

He doesn’t wanna risk pissing you off and having you refuse to ever do this again. Enjin still wants to fool around more;, he wants to fuck you. It’s that thought—your pretty pussy lips splitting open to swallow him instead—that has him busting his hot seed down your throat in thick, hot pulses.

“HAHH—FUHH!”

Releasing your hair, Enjin half expects you to pull away, furious he hadn’t warned you.  Instead, your nails dig into his thigh, steadying yourself. You moan around him, the vibrations rippling through his sensitive cock while you work him for every last drop, his hips jerking beneath you.

Only when you’re certain you’ve drained him do you pull back, swollen lips coming off his cock with a wet pop. 

“Allll go-neee S-Sheee? HAhhhhh~♡”

Tits jiggling as you heave for air, you present your tongue to Enjin as proof you’ve swallowed all of him. Every. Filthy. Drop.

“Oh fuck me… you’re a nasty lil’ Trash Princess, aren’t you?”

You can’t help but agree—your throat’s wrecked and your pussy’s aching to be used just as thoroughly. Enjin’s fingers aren’t inside you any more, although they are still on your pussy, running through your folds absentmindedly.  

“Ngh—n-eed m-more,” you slur.

All your decorum was lost to the wind the moment you asked to see his dick—you don’t even care that it’s Enjin of all people that you just gave head to. Suddenly, the obnoxious pain in your ass seems like your only deliverance. Right now, you're more frustrated that you've spent so much time bickering with him when you could have been fucking him.

You much prefer his moans to anything else coming out of his mouth.

You need him to get hard again—immediately!

Enjin, mind mushy with release, takes another joint out to light. As much as he wants to return the favor after that kind of sloppy top, the man needs a minute.  His high has his whole body tingling from the post release sensitivity.

But you can’t wait any longer. It’s been god knows how long since you’ve had a proper orgasm and those were only from your own small, fumbling fingers. Throat achy and raw, you quiver at the masochistic thought of how his cock is going to absolutely obliterate your pussy.

You slide your panties down before flinging off your jacket and top.  Taking a seat on Enjin's lap, you're now clad in just your bra, your skirt that's bunched up at your hips, and thigh highs. Grabbing his cock, you give his soggy, half-hard girth a few encouraging pumps.

Your pussy is already slobbering, a viscous string of syrupy slick drips down from your slit to land on his cockhead, connecting you to him as you line him up. 

Feeling your fingers around his length, Enjin's eyes fly open, balancing the joint between his lips as he quickly shrugs off his own jacket, checking the pockets.

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll there sweetheart—you’re skipping a few steps.”

You aren’t listening though, not giving a fuck what Enjin is talking about as you cry out, grinding your clit against his fat tip, before running it back through your folds.

Enjin grits his teeth, coughing out smoke as he holds the joint in one hand and your hips in the other. You’re being a brat again, not listening to a single word he’s saying. 

“Gotta find my rubbers…also gotta stretch you out better, Princess—you’re gonna split in two if I don’t.”

You whimper, petulant and needy. You press his cockhead against your entrance, swiveling your hips like you’re going to recklessly sink down on him at any second.

“Huh? Rubbers?” You shake your head in confusion, pouting. “m’Ennnnjiiiiin…I can’t wait that long—puh-leaseee don’t make me wait s’long, Enjiiiiin. I can take it, promiseee!”

The way you sweetly coo his name is shattering any sense of self-control Enjin has left. The urge to submit you to the ultimate corruption surges hot through his veins, but Enjin knows how big he is and while he did want to break you, he didn’t want to hurt you in the process. You are absolutely nuts to want to ride him with so little prep—now, on top of everything else, you apparently wanted him to fuck you raw.

Wait—did you just ask what rubbers were? Did you not have condoms on the Sphere?

But any lingering concerns dissipate the second you start fighting to get his tip inside you.

“Too s-slow!” You groan.

Fear is the last thing on your mind—evident in the way you impale yourself on him, defiant even against the impossible stretch. Your pussy is tight around the swollen head of his cock, strangling it as your nails dig into his shoulders. You grind in slow, desperate circles. Tears roll down your cheeks as you bite them to keep from crying out, your body fighting against every inch.

Enjin watches with a dark glint in his eyes – you trying so hard for him makes him want to flip you over and fuck you into the cushions. But he’d let you have it at your own pace…for now. 

Releasing your hip, Enjin spits into his palm, rubbing his slick fingers over your clit in slow steady circles. 

“Such a hard-headed girl—c’mere…”

Enjin takes a long drag from the joint, balancing it between his fingers as he grabs the back of your neck. His lips crash into yours before you can think.

You gasp and Enjin takes the opportunity to exhale the smoke deep into your lungs, taking the harshest of the hit himself. You're left with only the smooth, earthy flavor warming your chest before it melts through your limbs.

But it’s the way he kisses you after that really knocks the ground out from under you. His tongue pushes past your lips, tangling with yours—hungry, messy, like he wants to steal the little air you have left until you’re only breathing him in.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hands buried in his soft buzzed undercut, anchoring yourself. You moan into his mouth and he swallows it greedily, teeth nipping your lower lip before diving right back in. All the while, his thumb keeps grinding into your clit, faster now, like he’s keeping rhythm with the pulse that’s beating under your skin.

Why does it feel this good? How is he doing this to your body? S’not fair! 

Not realizing you could feel this good from a kiss, you're unraveling in real time. Your mind goes blank with every pulse, every word, every inch. You’re not even fully seated yet, but you can already feel the blunt head of his cock grinding against your cervix, the pressure building with each centimeter you drop. You never imagined you could feel this full—like he might actually breach your womb.

The thought alone has you trembling, unstable, your aching thighs giving out, causing you to slide down a bit too fast. The thick veins along his length rake across your g-spot and your body snaps. A sharp, helpless spasm rocks you as your breath catches and a small, unexpected orgasm rolls through you.

Enjin pulls back just enough to let you breathe, though your body doesn’t stop shivering, lost in a blur of pleasure and pain.

“Eh... did you just cum, Princess?”

The question is rhetorical, full of smug amusement, as he can feel the increasing wetness leaking down his cock, making it all the easier for you to slide down.    

Teasing your earlobe, Enjin’s tongue dips in to flick at the shell of it, making you clench.

“HA! Good fucking girl! A lil’ more and I bet she’ll be a real squirter f’er me.”

Enjin beams, proud of his Trash Princess. No woman had ever taken him this deep—not even close. Enjin hadn’t expected you to be any different. And yet…when Enjin looks down, he releases a groan deep from his gut.

The sight alone almost has Enjin nutting in you -- your drooling cunt spread so wide around his girth, sitting almost at his base. A thought flashes briefly – it's kinda like he’s a virgin again. Parts of his dick had never experienced this kind of molten heat so maybe, in a sense, he is? Enjin didn’t fucking care if he was though, as he ain’t about to be with the way your pretty pussy is giving way like it’s made for him. 

“Run that back.”

Enjin takes the final drag, pinching the smoldering end of the joint between his fingers before flicking it aside. He leans in again, slower this time. There’s no rush in how his mouth seals over yours. The second shotgun is less about the smoke and more about the feel of you—your lips parting for him, your breath syncing to his, and the small whimper you make as he sucks slowly on your tongue.

The haze spreads between you both, thick and warm. Simultaneously, his knuckles tease your clit, a soft schlick sound filling the space between you from you getting wetter by the second. By the strength of some unknown force, you finally bottom out, immediately collapsing into his neck. 

You both moan. Enjin feels you quivering from the inside out and you feel him everywhere—shifting your guts into your ribs. 

“I…I did it.”

Your smile blooms soft against his inked skin, lips grazing the spot where you can feel his own pulse hammering wildly.

Enjin’s in no state to congratulate you on your impressive feat. Completely sheathed in you raw, coring out your gummy walls into the shape of his dick—something in his brain chemistry fizzles. Like a bit of pussy juice, acting as a catalyst, slipped into his dick and traveled straight to his prefrontal cortex to corrode all of his previous thoughts about you. The result is clear.

Enjin doesn’t give a fuck if you are a snobby, annoying, needy lil’ brat who never let him get away with shit and bitches at him constantly—the furtherest thing from his type.

Because honestly?

Motherfuck a bullshit-ass type. Your slutty ass pussy is fuckin’ perfect. 

For the first time, Enjin realizes he might be in love with you. 

How could he even look at another woman after this?

One thing if for certain—Enjin is going to make damn sure you never have the desire to even look at another man.

Both his hands trail up your hips, groping and squeezing the plump curves of your ass before settling at your waist. His blunt black nails dig into your skin to pull you back from his neck.

Enjin whistles, admiring the stagnant stream of spittle lingering on your chin. Look at you—cockdrunk just from sitting on him. 

Enjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen you look more beautiful.

“Enjiiiiiin,” you whimper, not being able to hold yourself up. 

But your cries for him only inflame the predatory smirk on his lips, your honeyed cunt hugging his cock so beautifully. 

“Makes sense you fell from heaven, huh Princess?” 

Whether you're ready or not, Enjin forcibly winds you on his cock in slow circles. Your clit brushes up against the well placed pubic ring like a reward for being the first to experience it.

“—cause this pussy’s a fuckin’ angel.”

Your eyes are already lodged in your skull so you can’t even roll them at his cheesy line. But if your pussy is an angel, then Enjin's dick is most definitely a demon—his sinful cock tearing through your insides and condemning you straight to hell.

Moaning loudly, your body moves on autopilot—chasing more friction from the rhythm Enjin set. Good thing everyone was at happy hour or you would for sure be attracting some major attention now.

Although, to be honest you probably wouldn’t notice anyway. You don’t even notice when your bra falls away, your tits spilling out just so Enjin could watch them jiggle in his face. You only register its disappearance once his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his tongue finally saying it’s ‘hello’.

“Shiiiiit!”

Your hips stutter, then stall when Enjin tugs at your sensitive bud with his teeth.

“Hey…I know my Trash Princess ain’t tappin’ out just yet.” 

SMACK!

Enjin brings a heavy palm down on your ass and your pussy clenches tighter around him. Enjin relishes the way your plush curves mold to his hands, each smack adding to the wet, messy sounds between you. You’ve already leaked enough on his lap to stain the sofa beneath you.

“Nah, ya just got on the ride, baby. Giddy-up.”

SMACK!

“NNNGH!” You weakly glare daggers at him. 

Any softness on Enjin’s face has since been replaced by something far more mischievous. If you thought he was obnoxious before—you’re about to learn he’s a full-blown menace inside of pussy.

Wobbling, you gather together what little resolve you have left to roll your hips forward. 

“HAAH! S’too biiiiiig,” you whine but your body can’t stop.

The juices saturated between you grant enough momentum to finally get a good, smooth bounce going.

“Fuck—that’s it, ride it like it’s yours, baby.” Enjin encourages you.

The way you cream harder every time he calls you 'baby' doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? You like me talking sweet to the pussy, baby girl?—Or do you just like being my filthy lil’ trash slut, hm Princess?”

Gritting your teeth, you grab on to Enjin’s shirt like reins, pulling him closer to you. 

“Y-You’re…gonna—ahshiiiit—hafta f-fuck m’better than thisss…if you want m-me to be your ‘baby girl’—Trash Daddy.”

Unfortunately, your sass falls flat—you can barely keep your head from lulling to the side. But Enjin’s thoroughly entertained nonetheless—he’ll take ‘Trash Daddy’ over ‘Trashy Poppins’ any day.

“Bet.”

Electricity runs through Enjin. He’s all charged up—now it’s his turn to unleash.

Your brow furrows from the noise Enjin makes—you’re not sure if he just laughed or snarled. But it's the only warning you get. 

Sliding down the sofa a bit, adjusting himself for stability, Enjin spreads his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor as he bullies his cock up into you like he's breaking in his own personal fleshlight.

All you can do is go slack, falling forward on his chest. His grip bruising your hips, not allowing you to run from the way his blunt cockhead plows into your womb like a battering ram. 

The couch beneath you groans, its frame creaking under the strain. The wood and leather protest like the entire thing might fall apart at any moment.

“Enjinnnnn, m’slowwww dowwwnnn!” 

Your cries only fuel his frenzy and Enjin knows from the way you’re gushing on him you can take it.

Fuck—this sweet lil’ pussy is just so good for him. Imagine if he never met you. 

If you never—

Enjin cuts the thought off cold. 

Moving before you can blink—your world flips. One second he’s pummeling up into you, the next you’re on your back. 

Enjin peels away his shirt, muscles flexing as he looms over you. His hands curl around your ankles to keep them pinned overhead. A single bead of sweat catches your bleary eyes as it slides down his bare chest, gliding over firm muscle. The bold ink patterns seem to come alive on his skin. He looks so fucking sexy right now and you can’t help but to shamelessly ogle him.

Yet, there’s something much too serious and somber about Enjin’s current demeanor. You’ve been staring at him far too long to go unnoticed. The highly expressive, sassy powerhouse is rarely this silent. He should be teasing you right now, asking some smartass shit like if you’re ‘enjoying the view’. 

“Enjin?”

Your sweet voice hits his ears and instantly you have his attention again. Enjin flashes you a pearly white smile.

“Heh, enjoy the break, Princess? You wont get another.”

Ignoring the question in your eyes, Enjin folds you into a mating press, thrusting to the hilt all in one motion. The sound of flesh lewdly slapping against flesh fills the room, as do your cries.

But there’s still something else burning in his eyes. Enjin knows it’s unfair not to be honest with you, but taking out his unspoken feelings on your pretty pussy is the only way he can express himself at the moment. 

Suddenly, there’s a loud creak followed by a decisive snap and two of the sofa’s legs give out. If your sweat and cum weren't like glue on the old leather you’d surely slide off head first. You yell out in alarm, but Enjin doesn’t give a fuck about the damn sofa.

His mood is still soured by the thought that wouldn’t be shaken away until he confronted it—

If you never fell.

But you did. He found you—and now that Enjin has you under him like this, he needs to fuck the point he’s concluded into you:

If Rudo ever finds a way to the Sphere, Enjin will personally travel there and see to your ex-husband himself. 

Hell, he might even rail you in front of him a few times—show him what a real man could do. Maybe even a real…husband?

If the sounds of sloshing fluids and skin slapping skin weren't ringing so loudly in your ears that it drowned out everything else, you would have thought Enjin had lost his mind with the way he was cackling above you.  He sounds completely deranged, laughing at the idea of him finally wanting to settle down all while continuing to pound you deeper into the broken sofa.

But despite being high off weed and your pussy, Enjin’s mind has never been more clear—he wants to lock you down.

“Hah… P-Princess, can ya feel me in your tummy? Right…” Enjin’s golden eyes lock on the ever-so-slightly distended bulge from the monstrous intrusion in your guts.

“....right, here.” 

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, his large hands splay across your sweat sheened belly. You’re squirming under the heat of Enjin sandwiching your guts between his palm and his cock. Its all far too much—you’re too full, unable to really focus on what Enjin’s saying.

“Ahh, E-Enj—m’ c-cum, g-gonna mmm…” you hiccup, swallowing your tears.

Your nails rake down his arm to ground yourself but your body is thrumming too hard, adrift in the rush rolling through every one of your wired nerves. Your tits bounce obscenely every time your velvety walls devour his cock back down to the base. Enjin’s pubic piercing bucking against your clit has you clutching onto his dick like you were about to break it off.

You feel so fucking good. Enjin desperately needs to feel you creaming on his cock, and you would be soon if your kitten nails raking down his arms– adding more red to his already inked skin– were any indication. 

“That’s it, Princess, hah—fuck, baby, I got you. Squirt for your Trash Daddy.”

As if on command, the knot inside you coils to its breaking point, prickling every nerve, releasing a warm rush of fluids. Your body tingling in ecstasy, you quickly tumble over your peak, eyes blinded by speckles of brightness as you cum.

Yet Enjin hasn't slowed, his continuous pounding forcing more of your cum and squirt to gush out of you—the melody of his now drenched balls colliding with your wet ass only growing loude

“Fuck, that’s it. Pussy cryin’ like she wants my cum, Princess…” 

You’re barely conscious from all the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your head. 

“She’s jealous that slutty throat of yours got all my cum, now it’s her turn to swallow, isn’t that right?”

It’s a rather roundabout way for Enjin to ask if he can nut inside you, but then again, he wasn’t really asking. The thought of breeding you makes him feral. 

“Ahh—f’nnghhhh!”

Non-verbal and fucked dumb, you’d probably agree to anything right now. You’re an utter mess–pussy stretched beyond anything you thought possible, face sticky with slobber rolling down to pool in the folds of your neck. 

“O’course it is…gonna dump all these trash babies into my princess’ sweet lil’ cunt.”

Although you are super turned on by the thought of Enjin breeding you, there's no way you have any idea how serious Enjin is about putting a baby in you. How could you? You don’t even realize the love confession his cock is professing to you.

“FUHHHH—take it!”

Enjin pumps thick ropes of his cum into your tummy as his body thrashes on top of yours. The primal intensity has you vibrating as another orgasm rips through your overstimulated and overworked pussy. Filled the brim, his spunk overflows, sploshing out of your pussy as he rocks his hips, urging his seed deeper to plant right in your womb.

In the afterglow, the two of you lie off-kilter in a tangled heap on the broken sofa. There’s blood rushing to your head— not the worst place for it, you think, all things considered. Enjin’s weight is heavy, his chest heaving into yours, warm and sticky as he wraps you in his arms. 

Just as you feel you both might drift off like this, Enjin stirs. Flinching, you whimper as Enjin wills himself up, his cock sliding out of your pussy with a squelchy suctioning noise. Your knees part for him with zero resistance as he inspects his handiwork, peeling apart your battered pussy lips to reveal your dug out slit. 

“Whewww,” Enjin whistles at the sight of the thick creampie glistening in your core. “All this cum your cute pussy pulled outta me—you’d think she was my jinki.”

Sober, you likely would have slapped him for referring to your pussy as his vital instrument. But ecstasy clouds your logic, so high off endorphins and other substances, you only giggle. It is kinda funny you suppose.

“Yeah—squirtin’ on command like that. Definitely an attack type.”

Spread open, the thick plug of spunk froths out of you. But Enjin simply tuts, pushing it right back in, not wanting to waste a single drop.

“Yeah, how about that, ’mma duel wielder! Yup, definitely gotta name ‘er now—what you thinkin’ I should call her, princess?”

Enjin sees the way your pretty cunny is twitching, and in his pussy drunk mind, it's an approval. The spasms that still quake through you are like tremors of Morse Code—your slutty pussy agreeing with him, begging for more. Flipping you over on your belly, Enjin is more than happy to fulfill any request of his new vital instrument.

“Got it! Cumbringer! The Umbreaker and The Cumbringer. Nice ring to ‘em, dont’cha think?”

Cumbringer!?

Later, you would definitely regret being so thoroughly fucked out of your mind you didn’t put a stop to this. Enjin is most definitely going to be insufferably proud of himself for the next 3-6 business weeks. He’d lord this over you and tease you with not-so-subtle hints around the rest of the cleaners. 

Yet, as Enjin is swabbing his huge cock through your folds, you feel the ache of loss in your core, wanting to be filled again and you can’t seem to find the fucks to care—you just needed more of his dick, like…now.

Pleased with your compliance, Enjin thumbs the dips at the small of your back, perching your ass up so your back arches real nice.

“Trash Daddy’s gonna take real good care of Cumbringer from now on, too. Make ‘er live up to the name.”

When Enjin pushes into you again, the new angle has him bullying against your g-spot with even more intensity than before. Seeing the way you jolt, he holds back from going as deep this time to directly abuse the spot. Slick runs down your legs and despite how slippery the ruined leather cushions are beneath you, Enjin still holds you firm as his cock sloshes through your ruined pussy.

“Say, how much anima you think is in my nut, Princess?”

You don’t respond but Enjin, proving to have the stamina of a beast, feels like he should give you at least two more doses just to be sure.

⛓

Fading in and out of a euphoric stupor, you’re unsure how much time passes. Absolutely cockdrunk, at some point, you’d simply just surrendered. Your pussy clearly has zero complaints about being a jinki for Enjin’s cock and you are too dumb once you get a lil dick to stop him.

Somehow, you’ve ended up folded over the wide coffee table. It’s unstable beneath you, but Enjin doesn’t seem to care what he breaks when he’s fucking you. He only moved from the sofa when the back of it finally broke.

Straining, you think you hear voices but everything feels so far away and fuzzy. The room gets darker and you realize Enjin’s thrown his coat over you. Still sheathed deep inside you, Enjin’s cock plants lazy kisses to your womb as he speaks rather casually to someone.

Hmm, did he get a call? Is that Semiu?

Semiu is likely calling, wondering why you both haven’t shown up to happy hour yet—shit. There’s no way you’re making it in this condition; your limbs are toast. You can’t even move the weight of Enjin's bulky jacket off of you, the heavy material trapping you in the humidity of your own breath and sweat. But in a way, the warmth is comforting. Your cheek resting against the wood, you allow the tent of muggy heat and his cock moving languidly inside you to lull you into complacency— in your delirium, everything feels like a nice dream.

Yet Enjin is fully alert, a shit eating grin on his face as he stares down Semiu and Gris who had just walked in on Enjin shamelessly beating your doonies down. Enjin only spared your modesty by covering you up, but he has no qualms with either Gris or Semiu seeing him in all his glory and doesn’t even bother pulling out of you.

A fact that is painfully clear as he pats the pockets of his jacket draped over you for his cigs—he might as well smoke if he’s giving you a break.

“I win,” Semiu turns to Gris, hand out expectantly.

Semiu’s cool expression never changes but there is amusement in her eyes as Gris fishes into his pockets and places a stack of bills into her hand.

“Tsk, damn…” Gris shakes his head, although he’s not shocked. 

The two of you are down so horrendously bad for each other that this should have happened long ago as far as everyone else was concerned. The tension has been at an unbearable level for those around you, the way the two of you picked at each other non-stop like a kid’s first crush.

Alas, you’re an airhead and Enjin is so stubborn he’s delusional. So the older Cleaner members couldn’t help, but place bets on when and where you and Enjin would finally slip between the sheets. Its a shame that you weren't in one of your beds right now--in between actual sheets--instead of the lounge becoming collateral damage.

“You know, after all the game you talked about winning your money back at poker tonight, Bro said you were a no-show because you knew you were gonna lose…” Gris eyes the boneless, quivering lump that is you under Enjin’s jacket. 

Enjin really did a number on you. Your nonsensical babbles pouting for Enjin to ‘make sure to tell Semiu to bring you back some fries from the bar’ obviously means you have no idea that they are actually in the room.

“But it looks like you have your ‘ace in the hole' for an entirely different game.”

Enjin chortles. His hips stutter forward a bit too hard and you squeak in protest, he just hushes you.

“Awe, so you came back all this way to check-up on us? How sweet,” Enjin says sarcastically, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Hardly. Rudo accidentally chugged an entire beer he thought was soda—then proceeded to throw it all up over Zanka,” Semiu says flatly. 

Enjin attempts to hold back his laughter as Semiu continues with a sigh. She explains thatGris helped carry Rudo back, promptly putting his little blacked out ass to bed. Zanka locked himself in the bathroom immediately upon returning.

“Although they're sure to be occupied for the rest of the night, since the kids are back in the building you need to wrap this shit up Enjin—she looks like she could use the break anyway.”

Semiu casts a sympathetic look your way. She did warn you about Enjin though, so he was your mess to deal with now. 

“Sure thing,” Enjin says, patting your form underneath his coat, “I’ve trained my new jinki well enough for tonight.” 

Semiu takes one look at the absolutely diabolical grin on Enjin’s face and decides she's already had enough of his shit for the night.

She sighs again. “Just hurry it up, alright?”

Enjin gives Semiu a cheeky salute. Yet the second her back is turned, Enjin mimes a dramatic chef’s kiss to the air for Gris. Enjin’s eyes roll back like he’s just had the best meal of his life. 

Gris snorts, shooting him a wink and a thumbs-up for a ‘job well done’ like a proud teammate before heading out of the room as well.

“One more thing.”

Semiu pauses in the doorway, hands resting on the double doors, surveying the crime scene-like state of the lounge. The sofa is toast, the coffee table’s on life support, and there's a growing puddle under you, spilling over to slowly drip off its edge onto the floor.

“If you’re just going to recklessly rawdog her, at least get her on the pill. Alice can sort that out tomorrow—right after you replace every piece of furniture you’ve both annihilated.”

Enjin simply shrugs, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“I suppose…we can stop by Alice’s too.” 

Semiu just rolls her eyes, only to wrinkle her nose as a wave of stale air wafts by.

“And for the love of god—crack a window. Smells like fresh ass in here.”

Once the doors finally click shut, Enjin rips his jacket off of you and smiles. You’re still blissed out in lalaland while your pussy, Cumbringer, is clenching around him like she has one more go left in her.

Grabbing your arm, he pulls you up. Still sheathed inside you, he sits back on his knees, bringing you with him, your back pressed against his chest.

“Mmmm—*yawns* Was that Semiu on the call, Enj?”

Call? Oh, heh.

“Ha, yeah baby girl, just Semiu on the line,” Enjin lies too easily. 

It’s for your own benefit though–no need to ruin your bliss with anything silly like embarrassment or shame from being walked-in on. Hell, unless Semiu says something, Enjin might be able to get away with not ever telling you.

“She said they ran outta fries though. I’ll get ya some later, yeah? Jus’ need Cumbringer to clock in one more time, Princess...”

Enjin rocks his hips with yours in a slow wave and your pout melts, no longer caring about the fries. Your head tips back onto his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you.

“Ah, mmmm, b-but—ngnh!  She mentioned something about hotdogs and getting pills tomorrow? Is that a mission?”

Enjin hums to keep from laughing as he turns your face towards him. He smirks devilishly against your lips.

Distracting you with sweet chaste kisses, Enjin rubs gentle circles over your womb. You’re gonna be so fucking hot waddling around HQ in your slutty ass uniform, tits leaking and belly full with his brats. 

The only pill he’d get from Alice would be a fertility pill.

“Nothing my slutty baby girl or my Cumbringer gotta worry about, Princess. Leave everything t’me.”

𝐚𝐧: ahh tysm for reading, especially if you are new to my writing. enjin brain rot is lethal. i needed to get this outta my system! jjk girlies forgive me for straying from my wip list and kinktober lol. definitely down to write more of him. i have a p2 and another enjin story (an AU) idea. but i have to focus on my jjk kinktober now! ♡

You rock forward, slow and deliberate — just enough to drag your body against his — and his breath catches on a quiet sound he probably doesn’t even realize he making.

The cushions dip under your knees, and everything smells like him: old paper, bergamot soap, something faintly spicy underneath. He tastes like a heavenly mix of breath mints and the honey tea you made for him earlier.

Spencer always kisses like he’s studying you — memorizing pressure points, cataloging every hitch of breath, every soft sound. The drag of your bottom lip. The little touches that make your spine arch.

But there’s tension in him, too.

You feel it in the set of his shoulders, the stiffness in his hands, the twitch of his thighs when you shift your weight. Something’s holding him back.

You slow the kiss, draw away just enough to trace the line of his cheekbone with your nose, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

“Spence,” you murmur, breath warm against his skin. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He stills.

“I—” His voice falters, eyes wide behind his crooked glasses. “I haven’t really, um… done this before.”

You blink.

“You haven’t…” you echo, tilting your head.

His ears flush deep red as he shakes his head.

“I mean— some stuff, yeah,” he says quickly. “Kissing. A little touching. But… not much more than that.”

There’s something raw in his expression, like he’s waiting for you to flinch.

Instead, you kiss him. Soft and steady, nothing showy — just the kind of kiss that says I want you anyway.

When you pull back, his eyes are still closed.

“Spencer,” you whisper.

He opens them slowly.

“You being a virgin isn’t gonna scare me off.”

You thread your fingers into his hair, pushing it back gently from his forehead. His curls are soft, and he shivers when your thumb grazes his ear.

“I kind of like the idea of it, actually,” you murmur.

“You do?”

You smile. “I think I’d like being the first person to show you how good you can feel.”

He goes quiet again, clearly overthinking.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” you ask softly, brushing your nose against his.

He swallows. “No, no. I just… I don’t want to do something wrong. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Baby,” you whisper against his mouth. “You’re not going to mess anything up.”

You kiss him once more — slow, deep — and feel the hitch in his breath when your tongue brushes his.

“I’ll teach you,” you murmur with a smirk.

You shift to straddle him more fully, your skirt hiking higher around your hips as you settle across his lap. You can feel him under you, hard and twitching through his pants, and he gasps when your hips press down.

“You okay?” you ask, voice low.

He nods too fast.

You raise an eyebrow. “Use your words, Spencer.”

“Yes,” he breathes. “I-I’m okay.”

You smile and roll your hips again, dragging the lace between your legs over the firm outline of his cock. You kiss along his jaw, down the column of his throat, mouthing at a spot above his collarbone until he shivers.

“You like that, don’t you?” you murmur against his skin.

“Yes,” he chokes, hips jerking upward. “Fuck—yes.”

You laugh softly as your hands slip under the hem of your top, peeling it off slowly and tossing it aside.

Spencer stares like a baby deer caught in headlights.

Your black lace bra is sheer, nipples already peaked beneath the fabric. You reach behind you, unclasp it with one practiced motion, and let the straps fall from your shoulders.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.

“Touch me,” you murmur.

His hands are shaking when they rise — gentle at first, tentative. He cups your breasts like he’s sure he might be dreaming. His thumbs brush over your nipples and you let out a soft moan, pressing forward into the touch.

“Harder, baby,” you whisper. “Don’t hold back.”

He obeys. His touch deepens, massaging one breast as he catches the nipple of the other between his thumb and forefinger, upping the pressure as he rolls and twists. His confidence grows.

And then his mouth replaces his hands.

His tongue is hesitant at first, then deliberate, then filthy. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and his teeth scrape, just barely, as you grind down against him in response.

“That mouth,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his hair. “God, Spencer. You’re doing so well already, sweet boy.”

He groans into your skin, and you feel every twitch of his hips beneath you, the desperation in every movement.

“So good for me,” you murmur, letting your thumb trace the flush on his cheek. “Such a fast learner.”

He whines — helpless and sweet — and you cradle his jaw, bringing his face back up to meet yours to kiss him again, messy and open-mouthed, before guiding his hand between your thighs. Your skirt slips higher, lace panties exposed, already damp.

You press his fingers down against the wet spot.

“Feel what you do to me,” you whisper. “I’ve been wet since the first time you kissed me tonight.”

You move his hand against the lace, helping him slide two fingers along your covered folds. He gasps when he feels how wet you are — not just damp, not just eager — soaked.

“Oh my god,” he breathes.

“Not God,” you murmur cheekily, smirking as you kiss the corner of his mouth. “Just me.”

You draw his fingers upward to circle your clit once — slow, precise — and then pull his hand away.

Spencer watches, dazed, as you slide off his lap and lay down against the couch cushions, hiking your skirt up higher and moving your panties to the side. His breath shudders out in a long, low exhale, his eyes fixed on your bare core.

Then you touch yourself for him — slow, deliberate strokes, dragging through your slick and back up again to circle your clit. Your eyes never leave his.

“This is how I want you to touch me,” you murmur. “Not too fast. Just enough pressure. Like this, okay?”

He nods, transfixed.

You slide two fingers inside yourself, moaning softly, then draw them out again. You hold them up to him with a smirk.

“Want a taste?” you ask, voice thick.

He nods greedily.

“Say please, baby.”

“Please,” he whimpers.

You press your fingers to his mouth, and he sucks them in without hesitation. His tongue curls, eyes fluttering shut as he moans, licking you clean like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

“Good boy,” you breathe, pulse skipping. “Taste how much I want you.”

He sucks harder. You see the way his hips shift — searching for something to rut into and failing. He’s panting now, tension coiled so tight you can feel it.

You pull your fingers from his mouth, slide your hand down, and curl your fingers around his wrist again.

“You try now,” you murmur.

You guide his hand back between your thighs and help him find your clit. His fingers are a little shaky, but you hold him there and let him feel the way your body responds beneath his touch.

“That’s it,” you whisper. “Just like I showed you. You can go slow.”

He moves carefully, eyes flicking between your face and your core, trying to memorize every twitch and sound.

You sigh, low and breathless. “Good job, baby. Feels s’good.”

Your praise lands like a spark — his shoulders straighten, his strokes grow bolder, more confident. He draws tight little circles over your clit, then dips down, gathering more slick before coming back up again, mirroring your earlier actions.

“Jesus,” he breathes, staring at you. “You’re so wet.”

“For you, Spence,” you pant, arching into his touch. “I’m like this because of you.”

He groans, and you can feel the effort it takes for him to keep his hips still, to stay focused on you instead of chasing the heat building in his own body.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “You’re gonna make me come like this if you keep going.”

“I want to,” he says eagerly. “I want to make you feel good. Please let me make you come. Please.”

God, does he sound desperate for it. You lean up just enough to kiss him messily before gently easing his hand away.

“And you will,” you murmur, shifting your legs open wider. “But not like this. Want you to do it with your mouth.”

His breath hitches. His pupils dilate. And within a few seconds, he’s nodding with excitement.

You smirk and hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties, peeling them down slowly and letting them fall to the floor.

He’s between your thighs in a heartbeat — laid out on his stomach, elbows braced on the couch, arms wrapped around your thighs, chin tilted up and eyes locked on your cunt.

You run your fingers through his hair and smile down at him softly as you guide him closer. His warm, shaky breath ghosts over your skin.

“Start slow,” you whisper. “Use your tongue and lips together. Don’t overthink it. Just feel.”

He nods, then leans in.

The first lick is cautious — a single drag of his tongue from bottom to top — and he pauses at the end, waiting. When you shiver, he breathes out like he’s been given permission.

“Good,” you murmur. “So good, baby. Keep going.”

He does.

The second lick is more confident. By the third, he’s circling your clit with shaky precision — steadier each time.

“That’s it,” you breathe. “Such a fast learner, aren’t you, Spence?”

He groans — low and hungry — the sound vibrating through your deepest parts as he nods against your core.

And then he devours you.

There’s nothing careful about it now. His tongue moves in messy circles, his lips parting, mouth opening wider. He sucks at your clit and moans like a man possessed.

Your thighs clamp around his shoulders and his rhythm falters — gets sloppier, wetter, better. He’s all-in now, relentless, eating you out like he’s starving, like this is what he was made for. Like he’s been waiting his whole life to make you fall apart. He’s taking cues from your reactions — repeating his movements when you moan, experimenting with his tongue as your hand tightens in his hair, reading every twitch of your hips as if it’s an answer key.

“Oh, fuck—Spencer, YES. Good boy. My good boy.”

The words land heavy, and he whimpers loudly in response. His hands grip your thighs hard, and that’s when you feel it — the tension in his body, the way he’s moving. Subtle at first, then more desperate. You glance down and catch the flex of his hips as they grind into the couch cushion beneath him.

“Don’t stop,” you pant. “Don’t you fucking stop, Spence. You’re doing so good for me. ‘M so close.”

He groans — guttural — as his lips close around your clit once more, and your orgasm rips through you like heat lightning. It hits all at once, spine arching, thighs locking tight around his head as you cry out his name, shuddering through it.

He doesn’t let up. His tongue keeps moving, soft but focused, even as you writhe under him. The aftershocks roll through you, deep and dizzying.

Somewhere in the haze you hear it — a quiet, choked sound. A sharp inhale. A low groan.

You don’t register what it means until you feel him go still. His arms lock. His mouth freezes.

When he finally lifts his head, his face is flushed and slick, lips swollen, and his eyes…

His eyes are wide. Embarrassed. Almost guilty.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, voice wrecked. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t— I just—”

You blink, confused for a moment before it hits you:

Spencer Reid, your perfect, sweet boyfriend, just came in his pants, completely untouched.

Came. In. His. Pants.

Untouched.

Your heart stutters.

“Oh,” you whisper. “Spence.”

He flinches. “I’m so sorry—”

“Hey.” You sit up a bit, still breathless, and reach down to cradle his face between your palms. His skin is hot — not just blushing, but burning.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, voice low but sure. “Please look at me.”

He does, barely.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.”

He blinks. “What?”

You smile. “That mouth of yours just gave me an orgasm that made me see stars. And then you came in your pants just from eating me out? That’s so hot, Spence.”

He swallows, stunned. His gaze softens. The worry’s still there, but it’s quieter now. His eyes shine.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, straightening his glasses and smoothing his hair. “You’re more than okay.”

You guide him up, help him collapse against your chest, your fingers still threading through his hair as his breath slows. He’s quiet, pliant, curled into you like a lazy puppy.

Eventually he shifts, wincing a little at the sticky mess in his pants.

You giggle.

“C’mon,” you murmur, kissing his temple. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You tug him gently off the couch and take his hand, leading him toward the bathroom. He hesitates, glancing down at the wet stain on his slacks, embarrassment rising again, but you squeeze his fingers and smile.

“Don’t look so ashamed,” you whisper. “You made a mess because you were too turned on by me to stop. That’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby.”

You lean in, lips brushing his neck.

"It's incredibly sexy.”

He groans softly — part laugh, part surrender.

“We’re not done, you know,” you add as you push open the bathroom door. “That was just your first lesson.”

He swallows hard. “N-not done?”

You shake your head as you step closer, fingers unfastening his belt with ease, and press a wet kiss just below his ear.

Your lips curve.

“You’ve still got so much to learn.”

ᝰ.ᐟ

PSA: likes do very little for promoting posts on tumblr! if you'd like to support a fic, please reblog!

He looked exhausted.

Not visibly. He’d never allow that. You could see it in the faint, ragged static along the edges of his screen, the slight drag in his steps, the way his shoulders didn’t quite square the way Overlord Vox’s should. He shut the door behind him with a soft thud and exhaled like he’d been holding the whole digital world on his back.

“There she is…” His voice dropped into that private register he used only for you, warm and roughened by burnout. “Sweetheart, if I don’t sit on that hideous couch in the next thirty seconds, you may never see me upright again.”

You patted the cushion beside you. “Come collapse, then.”

He didn’t hesitate. He never did here.

Vox folded himself onto the couch with a groan of relief, long legs taking up half the space, his shoulder brushing yours like he needed the contact to stay functioning. The moment he settled, the static at the sides of his screen softened, dimming into something gentle.

“You look dead,” you murmured, leaning into his shoulder. Your arms wrapped around his, holding him securely to your chest.

“In Hell, that’s practically a compliment,” he muttered, leaning his head lightly against yours, careful not to jab you with the corner of his screen. “But yes. It was one of those days. Too many broadcasts. Too much noise. Too many idiots thinking they can outsmart my network.”

You nudged the bowl of popcorn into your lap and lifted the remote. “Good thing I have just the cure.”

Vox’s screen brightened a fraction. “Tell me it’s violent.”

“It’s a horror movie from the living world.”

That earned an actual sound of appreciation, low, pleased and almost melting. He preened, knowing you were using a service he allowed so few to access. “You spoil me,” he said as if he hadn’t seen nearly every movie there was.

“I don’t spoil you,” you said, hitting play. “I just let you hide from Hell with me for a couple hours.”

“Same thing,” he murmured, sliding an arm behind you so you naturally leaned into his side, curling into him.

The movie flickered to life, crisp, high-definition picture that no one else in Hell could dream of seeing, courtesy of Vox’s private connection to the living world. You felt him relax by degrees as the opening scene played. Every time you tensed, he felt it. Every time you jumped, his screen would flare in amusement.

And then the first real scare hit.

The monster lunged.

You shrieked, popcorn flying everywhere as you dove straight into his chest, smacking the top of your head against the bezel around his screen.

For a breath, Vox was still.

Then his arms wrapped around you, not mockingly, not performative, but warm and protective, like he’d been waiting all day for an excuse to hold you this close.

“There it is…” he whispered into your hair, screen glowing softly against your cheek. “My favorite part.”

You groaned, face still buried in him. “Shut up.”

“Absolutely not.” He stroked your back, gentle and indulgent. “You’re adorable.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re clinging to me like I’m the only safe place in all of Hell,” he said softly, too softly for it to be anything but the truth.

His thumb brushed your shoulder. Your heartbeat thumped against his frame. The movie kept playing, forgotten.

His voice dipped lower, static smoothing into something warm and intimate.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “if you crawl any closer, I’m going to think you’re trying to start something.”

You didn’t move at first. Not because you were trying to start something but because Vox was warm, and steady, and the safest place you’d ever let yourself trust.

Still, his comment earned a huff into his chest. “You wish.”

“Constantly,” he said without a single beat of shame. His screen flickered with a slow ripple of amusement, the glow reflecting faintly against your cheek. “But that’s not the point.”

He shifted just enough to see you, one hand still resting at your hip in case you pulled away. You didn’t.

“Rough day?” you asked, even though the answer lived in every quiet tension along his frame.

Vox nodded once, slow. “I spent twelve hours wrangling network chaos. Power surges, angelic interference, a jackass in the living world who thought hacking into my signal would ‘boost his street cred.’” He mimed quotation marks with disdain. “By the end of it, I couldn’t hear myself think.”

You reached up and brushed a thumb along the edge of his screen, smoothing a faint line of static. “And now?”

His voice dropped, simple and sincere. “Now I can.”

Something in your chest softened at that, something you’d never say aloud, but Vox seemed to feel anyway. His hand slid from your hip to your waist, a careful, grounding hold. Not taking. Just keeping you close in that small way he only dared here, where no one could see.

“You know,” you murmured, “you don’t have to act so dramatic just because I jumped.”

“Sweetheart,” he said, tilting his screen toward you, “I’ve been dramatic since the day I was born.”

“Died.”

“Details.”

You snorted, but the moment stayed warm, wrapped tight around both of you. The movie kept flickering somewhere behind you, but neither of you looked back at it. Vox’s fingers traced idle patterns against your waist. It was absent, unthinking tenderness, the kind he never let slip anywhere else.

Then he murmured, barely above a whisper, “Come here.”

You were already pressed to him, but the invitation made heat bloom low in your stomach. You shifted just enough for his arm to guide you, pulling you onto his lap with slow, deliberate ease. His screen dimmed, glow soft and intimate.

“That’s better,” he breathed.

Your hands settled on his shoulders, steadying yourself. “Vox-”

“Shh,” he murmured, thumb brushing your back. “Let me… unwind.”

It wasn’t a command, though he worded it as one. With you, in your little employee apartment, it was never a command. It was a request, whispered quiet, earnest, almost shy under all the neon bravado.

You relaxed, letting him hold you. His frame vibrated with a low, content hum, static smoothing into near silence. The kind of silence he only ever found with you.

He dipped his head to your neck, voice a gentle rumble.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, lips just barely brushing skin, “how good it feels to come home to you.”

You shivered, not from fear this time.

Vox smiled against your throat, the motion soft and warm and full of something he’d never dare name out loud anywhere else.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “let me take care of you tonight.”

His hands slid up your back, careful and slow. Not rushing. Just Vox, worn down, in love, and finally able to breathe again in your arms.

You didn’t answer him at first.

You didn’t have to.

The way your fingers curled into his shoulders told him everything. Vox’s hands slid along your spine in a slow, appreciative sweep, as if he meant to memorize the shape of you through touch alone. His screen dimmed further, the glow turning low and warm, casting soft lines of light across your collarbones.

“Good…” he murmured, settling you more fully against him. “Just stay right there for me.”

Your breath caught when he pressed his mouth to your neck in a careful kiss, then another, each one slow enough to ask permission without words. Vox wasn’t rushing tonight. He wasn’t teasing, either. Every touch felt like a man unwinding tension he’d carried far too long.

A soft hum vibrated against your skin as he nuzzled closer. “You’re the only quiet I get all day,” he rasped. “The only thing that doesn’t demand something from me.”

You tilted your head for him, offering more, and he accepted it with quiet gratitude. His lips brushed that sensitive spot beneath your ear, the edge of his frame warming your cheek.

Your hands skimmed down his chest, fingers sliding over fabric and circuitry alike. Vox inhaled sharply, grip tightening at your waist.

“There you go,” he whispered, voice dropping into something darker, softer. “Touch me.”

You did. You always did when he asked like that, his voice cracked open just enough to show he needed you.

His hands drifted under the hem of your shirt, palms hot against your waist. He sighed, actually sighed, like the feel of your skin alone unraveled something knotted deep inside him.

“Sweetheart…” His voice trembled with want, but it was a controlled, intimate tremble, not the greedy hunger he showed the rest of Hell. This was just for you. “Tell me if you want more.”

Instead of answering, you shifted your hips, settling yourself more firmly against him, grinding your core against his hard length.

Vox’s breath hitched. A clean, sharp line of static flickered across his screen.

“Fuck,” he breathed, hands tightening on your waist. “You’re going to kill me.”

You smiled, leaning in to murmur against the glowing edge of his cheek. “I thought you liked dramatic.”

His laugh came low and shaky. “Not when it makes me stupid over you.”

Your fingers slid up up his chest, working the tie around his neck free and Vox melted, head tipping back to give you room. One of his hands trailed lower, settling on your thigh, thumb tracing slow circles that dragged heat through your body through your skirt.

He looked at you then, really looked, screen dimmed to a warm intimate glow, static barely a whisper at the edges.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, gently tugging you closer until your foreheads touched. “Let me make you feel good… please.”

The “please” was what did you in.

Vox didn’t beg. Vox didn’t need to.

Except with you.

You kissed him, slow and deep. Unhurried. He answered instantly, hands sliding up your back to pull you tight against his chest, mouth warm and hungry without being rough. His screen flickered brighter, responding to every sound you made, every shift of your lips.

Every shift of your hips.

He kissed you like he’d been needing this all day. He kissed you like coming home.

When you finally broke for air, he rested his forehead against yours, breath unsteady, hands already drifting lower with deliberate, reverent intent.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured, voice thick with affection and heat as his fingers caressed down, finding where the hem of your skirt gathered in his lap. Clawed fingers traced under, running a path up your bare thighs and along the curve of your ass. “I’ll give you anything.”

“All I want is you,” you whispered and when those words left your lips, he knew they were true. You didn’t want Vox. Didn’t need him. “Vincent.”

Fingers flexed into the fat o your ass as his name, his true name, passe from your lips. He’d let it slip one night, talking about the life he had lived and you latched onto it. Human. You liked how it set him apart from Vox. It became just one more way he could shed the persona when he walked through your door.

He guided your hips forward, rocking you against him. The soft gasp of pleasure that slipped from your lips was one of his favorite sounds. He ran your clit over his clothed length again and again, until you were flushed and panting.

Your fingers trembled with need as you worked at his pants, lifting yourself to free him. While you did, Vox’s fingers pulled aside the lacy fabric of your panties. The fingers of his other hand delved into your wet folds, pushing inside your opening.

“Fuck,” Vox groaned, his screen glitching. “You’re soaked already.”

“You’re hard already,” you countered, wrapping your fingers around his liberated shaft. It was a poor counter at best, but it was the best you could come up with as he lifted your body, guiding you into place over him.

The head of his cock nudged against your weeping opening. You whined, hips rocking in the air as he held you suspended over his length. He loved the way you wiggled, squirmed, eager for him to fill you in the way only he could.

And then the pressure against your opening breached you. Your head rolled back, hair tickling you as it hung from the back of your head. Vox leaned forward and a shiver ran down your spine as his lips met your neck.

He could feel that shiver through your core. You shivered around his cock, slipping lower and lower until-

“You take me so well,” Vox spoke against your neck as you settled into his lap. A high noise fell from your lips. His lips pulled into a static smile, sharp teeth nipping at your neck. “Made for me.”

While you could have come up with some smart comeback, some counter to his accusation that your body was made to match his, instead all that came out of you was a gasp. There was something good you could come back at him with. There was-

"Oh, Satan. Just like that.”

Vox laughed, the sound vibrating against your neck as he guided you through riding him. There were a lot of things Vox was good at and helping a woman ride him just the right way was certainly one of those things.

Vox ran his claws up your back, enjoying the way you shivered around his cock. Each twitch of your muscles wrapped so tightly around him felt divine. Heaven was inside your warm, wet walls. Heaven was the way you gasped his human name as his claws tangled in your hair.

He pulled.

There was no where for you to go but to arch your back, presenting your breasts to him. His eyes focused in on the way the moved with each thrust up into you. You moaned at the pull, the delightful pain as he puled a little harder.

Your walls fluttered and clenched around you, telling Vox just as pointedly as your moan did how much you enjoyed the feeling of him. He lifted you easily, standing from the couch. You moved along his length, lifted by his strong hands.

This was the power Vox had that made you swoon.

One look toward your dining table told Vox that if he set you on it, he would fuck you through it and have to replace it. If he had to buy you a new table, it wouldn’t be the modest table you have now. It would be fancy and you would yell at him for it.

Best to keep the one you have in one piece.

The cold counter top bit into your skin as Vox draped you over it. Your hair hung unto the sink, soaking in the drops of water. The hard surface bit into your pressure points but none of that mattered when Vox thrust harshly into you.

The cold of the counter, the pain of the hard surface and the feeling of his fingers gripping you combined into one cocktail of pleasure. Your back arched as his thrusts, the feeling of him caressing every part of you from the inside out pushed you over the edge.

Each contraction of your muscles rippled around him, pulling him deeper as you came. Vox pushed through the tightening muscles, fucking into you with harsh, violent abandon as he chased his orgasm on the waves of yours.

He called your name as you whimpered his, spilling deep inside you. As aftershocks ran through both of your bodies, Vox held you close. When he could feel the ground under his feet again, he lifted your limp, trembling body off the counter.

A smug smile cut across his screen as you moaned, looping your arms around his neck. Your ankles crossed behind his back as he carried you, softening cock still lodged inside you, back to the couch. He sat heavily, cringing slightly at the crunch of spilled popcorn.

“Want to finish the movie?” He asked, flicking his wrist to rewind to where you distracted him from the movie.

“Hardly,” you whispered against his neck, cuddling into his chest as your combined fluids leaked from around his cock. Sleep was quickly claiming you.

He ran his fingers down your back, settling you in place as he resumed the moving. A soft smile, one that rarely was seen outside of this little apartment graced his screen as he relaxed into the uncomfortable couch and enjoyed the latest horror film from the living world.

The air in the Cannibal Colony was, as always, thick with the scent of roasting meat and the pleasant, lilting chatter of its civilized inhabitants. You found a certain peace here, a macabre reflection of the life you’d left behind. It had been nearly four decades since you’d last drawn breath as a human, and in that time, you’d carved out a comfortable, if solitary, existence. Your own demonic form was a subtle one—a slight sharpening of the canines, eyes that could gleam with a predatory light in the right mood, and a graceful, almost silent gait that served you well. You were powerful enough to be left alone, but not so ambitious as to draw the attention of the true predators of Hell. This quiet town, with its darkly genteel customs, was home.

You were perusing a display of particularly fine lace gloves at one of the market stalls, the proprietor an old acquaintance, when a familiar shift in the atmosphere prickled the back of your neck. The cheerful, staticky hum of an old-timey radio broadcast began to bleed into the ambient noise, growing steadily louder. The townsfolk around you straightened up, their conversations hushing into expectant whispers. You didn't need to turn around to know who had arrived. The Radio Demon. Rosie’s most illustrious friend.

You continued to examine the gloves, a small, wistful smile on your face. You’d heard the stories, of course. Everyone had. The smiling overlord who commanded the airwaves and eviscerated his enemies with a jazz soundtrack. You’d always known, in the quiet, aching hollow of your soul, exactly who he was. But for twenty years in Hell, your paths had never crossed. You weren't sure you were ready for the confirmation, to see the man you loved twisted into a legend.

The radio static swelled, and then a voice, smooth as honey and sharp as a shiv, cut through the air. "Rosie, my dear! You simply must tell me where you found that exquisite feathered trim! It adds such a delightful flair!"

You froze, your fingers tightening around the lace. That voice. It was deeper, layered with a permanent radio filter and a chilling undercurrent of power, but at its core… it was his. The same cadence, the same charming timbre that had whispered sweet nothings and dark secrets into your ear for thirteen years of blissful, bloody marriage.

It was then you made the mistake of looking up.

And there he was.

Alastor stood there, leaning casually on his microphone staff as he chatted with Rosie at the entrance to her emporium. He was taller, his form a lanky silhouette of red and black. His hair was a wilder, russet mane, and two large, dark deer ears twitched atop his head. A long, thin, ruddy-brown tail swished idly behind his heels. But the line of his shoulders, the way he held his head… it was him. It was your Alastor.

A bit taller, a bit lankier, with ears like a red deer and antlers that spiraled proudly from his russet hair. With fingers ending in sharp, black claws. But beneath the demonic veneer, it was him. Your Alastor. The same sharp jawline, the same way he held his shoulders, the same man you had last seen walking out into a Louisiana night with a shovel and a promise to be back for supper.

And then your eyes met his.

Time stopped.

The constant, cheerful jazz soundtrack that seemed to emanate from him screeched to a halt with a needle-scrape of static. The wide, sharp-toothed smile on his face didn't falter, but it… changed. The manic, performative edge evaporated, leaving behind something stunned, utterly disbelieving. The crimson glow of his eyes flickered, dimming for a split second to something softer, something painfully, recognizably human.

The glass of blood-red wine he’d been holding slipped from his grasp. It shattered on the floor, the sound shockingly loud in the sudden, heavy silence that had fallen over the entire shop. Rosie was staring, her own polite smile replaced by open-mouthed confusion.

“Alastor, honey, what in the—?” she began, but he wasn't listening.

He stared. You stared back, your breath caught in your throat.

Then, a sound escaped him. It wasn't a word, not a broadcast, but a raw, staticky crackle, like a choked-off gasp. The microphone staff in his hand clattered to the cobblestones, the sound echoing unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.

He took a single, jerky step towards you. Then another. His head cocked to the side, a gesture so profoundly, intimately him that the breath hitched in your throat.

“My dear…?” The static was gone from his voice, leaving only a raw, hushed whisper, a sound so vulnerable you barely recognized it. It was the voice he’d used only with you, in the quiet dark of your home, a lifetime ago.

Tears, hot and sudden, welled in your eyes. “Alastor?”

It was all the confirmation he needed.

In a blur of red and black, he closed the distance between you. His long, clawed hands came up, not to harm, but to frame your face with a trembling, almost reverent delicacy. He stared, his gaze drinking you in, tracing every feature of your own demonic form—the subtle changes, the hellish glint in your eyes, the small, sharp teeth you now possessed. It was you. It was really you.

“My darling,” he breathed, the static returning, but now it was a soft, crackling hum, like a fireplace on a cold night. “My wife. My dearest, most beloved wife. After all this time…”

His hands were trembling slightly—a movement you had never, ever seen from your unshakable husband—as they cupped your face. His gloves were soft against your skin. His thumbs stroked your cheeks, his gaze drinking in every detail.

“My wife. Is it truly you?”

“It is me,” you whispered, your own hands coming up to cover his. “It’s me, my love. I told you,” you smiled “Not even death could make us part.”

A sound, something between a laugh and a sob, rattled in his chest. He leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes slipping closed. The frantic radio static softened into a gentle, humming melody, a love song from a bygone era. “All this time… I thought I was condemned to an eternity of solitude, empty and tasteless comapny. But you… you are here, at last.”

A sob of pure, unadulterated joy escaped you, and you buried yourself into his arms, his own arms wrapping around you so tightly it nearly stole your breath, his face burying itself in the crook of your neck. He was cold, but his embrace was the warmest thing you’d felt since the day you died.

“You’re here,” you wept, your hands clutching at the fabric of his coat. “You’re really here. I thought… I heard the stories, but I didn’t know if it was really you…”

“Hush, my love, hush,” he murmured into your skin, his voice a soothing, staticky croon. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumbs stroking your cheeks, wiping away tears that were quickly replaced. His smile was still wide, but it had changed. The edges seemed softer, the manic glee replaced by a profound, overwhelming happiness that shone from his eyes. “It is I. I have waited… oh, my dear, you cannot imagine the wait.”

And then you were both talking at once, a frantic, joyous jumble of words.

“I looked for you, when I first arrived, but I was so weak-” “I knew you would come, I told them all, my clever girl, I knew you would find your way!” “You got shot! He confused you with a deer, he said! Oh, Alastor, I sought him out and put him six feet under for taking you away from me—” “And you? Was it an illness? My poor darling, were you in much pain? I would have torn Heaven apart itself to bring you a cool cloth—”

The sheer absurdity of his statement, delivered with such genuine, deadly seriousness, made you laugh through your tears. That was your Alastor. Always so dramatic.

You couldn’t help yourself then. You laughed, a wet, joyful sound, and began to press kisses all over his face. You kissed his brow, his cheeks, the sharp line of his jaw, everywhere but his permanent smile, which you knew was as much a part of him now as his soul. He stiffened for a fraction of a second, surprised by the sudden affection, but then he melted into it, a low, contented hum vibrating through him.

“Oh, Alastor,” you cooed, pulling back just enough to look at him. “Look at you! My handsome husband.” Your fingers drifted from his face, gently tracing the outer edge of one of his large, mobile deer ears.

It twitched violently at your touch, a full-bodied shudder running through him. The radio dials in his eyes spun wildly.

“Darling—” he started, a note of flustered protest in his voice.

“They’re so soft!” you whispered in delight, stroking the velvety fur. You felt it twitch again under your palm, flicking as if to shoo away a fly, but he didn’t pull away. He simply watched you, his expression a bewildered mix of exasperation and utter adoration.

His nose scrunched up slightly, a faint, red blush dusting his cheeks. “Now, now, my dear, that’s hardly— mmph!”

He got silenced by a sweet kiss plastered right on his lips, his sharp-toothed grin melting into a closed-lip smile. His eyes growing slightly half-lided as a hum of appreciation left him.

Your gaze then drifted downward, to the small, red tail that was now twitching slightly behind him, no longer idle and still but betraying his emotional state. A fresh wave of giddy affection washed over you.

“And a tail!” you exclaimed, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Alastor, that is the most adorable thing I have ever seen!”

A burst of harsh static erupted from him. “Adorable is hardly the word I would use, my dear,” he said, his voice striving for its usual commanding tone but failing miserably, cracking at the edges. “It is a practical appendage, useful for balance and-”

You reached down, not to grab it, but to let your fingers gently stroke along its furr. It was small, with a soft tuft at the end.

He jolted as if electrocuted, a high-frequency squeal of feedback piercing the air. The shadows around his feet writhed for a moment. “Darling-”

You looked up at him, your eyes wide and innocent, though a playful smile tugged at your lips. “I’m sorry, my love. I just can’t help it. My big, strong, terrifying Radio Demon… with the cutest little deer ears and tail.” You brought your hand back up to his hair, carding your fingers through the russet locks in the familiar, soothing rhythm he had always loved back in life.

“My handsome, terrifying husband, with the cutest little tail! Oh, how I’ve missed you! I would have come to Hell sooner if I’d known you’d be this adorable!”

He let out a long, suffering sigh, but he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing again. For you, his darling wife, the other half of his soul… he would endure being called ‘adorable’ and ‘cute’. He would endure a thousand indignities. He had torn the world apart for you in life, and in death, he had held a shrine to your memory in the coldest, darkest part of his heart. A little cooing and petting was a paltry price to pay for having you back in his arms.

He burieed his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, as if memorizing your scent all over again.

“You are here,” he repeated, his voice a low, possessive rumble against your ear. “My partner. My accomplice. My wife. “Finally. I have found a home here, now that you are in hell with me.”

You hugged him back just as tightly, feeling the steady, unnatural thrum of his power, so different from the mortal heartbeat you remembered, and yet so intrinsically him.

From the sidelines, Rosie, who had been watching the entire scene with growing delight, finally clapped her hands together softly. “Well, I’ll be! So this is the famous wife! The one he’s never stopped talking about for seventy years!” She beamed. “Oh, Alastor, you old softie! You didn’t tell me she was such a charmer!”

Alastor didn’t even look at her. His entire world had narrowed to the space occupied by the two of you. He simply held you closer, his smile the most genuine it had ever been in all his years in Hell. He was whole again. And you, wrapped in the arms of your beloved, deer husband, knew you were home at last.

✧✧✧

the crowd roared your name like a prayer, flashbulbs bursting white against the pink silk draped over your frame. pastel chiffon fluttered with every step, soft as spun sugar, the sweetheart necklace complimenting your pearled neck.

you smiled the way they wanted you to smile — bright, airy, just a little bit shy — the kind of smile that made men swear they'd never seen anything so pure and feminine.

"miss, miss, please! an autograph?"

you leaned forward, perfume sweet as roses, signing your name with a flourish of loops and hearts, french tipped nails curling delicately around the playbill. he clutched it to his heart like it was gospel, blowing you a kiss, his friends hooting and pushing him as you laughed like a bell.

the papers would eat it up tomorrow. angel in pink steals the show once more! our darling of the silver screen. they always did.

and behind you, just at the edge of the spotlight, schlatt kept his place. manager. handler. the man who kept contracts in order and the wolves from circling too close.

compared to you, twirling, all lightness and bubbles—he was broad shouldered, fedora tipped low, cigarette glowing faint between his fingers. he didn't smile. he didn't wave.

but his eyes never left your figure as you strutted your way down the carpet, smiling happily, even if the lights were beginning to sting your eyes.

the shouting grew louder, the press shoving forward, the questions sharp as the camera flashes.

"y/n! y/n! over here, sweetheart — who designed your gown?" "give us a smile, darling, one more!" "are the rumors true—"

your breath caught a little as the edges of your smile tightened.

schlatt stepped foreard, broad shoulders filling the gap like a wall, one hand lifting slow, deliberate. the cigarette burned low between his fingers as he drawled, voice rough.

"alright, fellas, that's plenty. you got your shots, you got her to smile for ya—don't get greedy."

his voice wasn't very loud, but with you basically hiding behind him, his words rolled over the crowd with a weight of authority.

a few reporters tried to call out again, but schlatt tipped his head, fedora shadowing his eyes.

"your cameras will still work tomorrow. let the lady breathe."

the noise faltered, the shuttering slowing down just enough.

and then his hand was at the small of your back—warm, steady, guiding you through the last stretch of velvet rope. "c'mon doll," he murmured for you alone, the gravel in his voice making your chest rumble. "let's get you inside."

✧✧✧

after the premiere…

✧✧✧

inside, the noise dulled to a hush. the heavy doors shut behind you, muting the chaos of flashbulbs and shouting. only the echo of your heels on marble filled the lobby as schlatt guided you through, his hand still steady at your back.

you were glowing. flushed from the crowd, eyes bright. "did you see their faces? when the curtain went down—oh, schlatt, they loved it. i could hear them clapping even before the lights came up!"

he laughed low, the sound rolling out of him warm and rough. "damn right i saw it. half the joint was on their feet, ready to cheer just as the last line was said. didn't even wait for the credits."

you beamed at him, clinging to his arm as the driver held the car door open. "really?"

"really," he said firmly, a grin tugging at his mouth as he ducked into the car behind you. the door shut, muffling the city, and he turned toward you, eyes gleaming under the brim of his hat. "you had 'em eatin' outta your hand, doll. whole room wrapped 'round your little finger."

you giggled, silk and chiffon skirts pooling as you kicked off your heels, and the car lurched into motion. "you think so?"

"i know so," he shot back, leaning closer, his grin wide—the type no one else gets to see but you. "been in this racket long enough to know when someone's the real deal. and baby—you're it. the whole goddamn package. and they eat you up every time.

you keened and flushed at his words, glowing brighter than any spotlight. the city lights streaked through the window, catching in your pearls, your lashes, the curve of your smile.

"you're too sweet to me…" you mumbled, half hiding behind your hand, but your foot brushed against his pant leg as you said it.

his eyes flicked down, then back up, his mouth quirking to the side. "sweet? nah. i'm just tellin' it straight. the crowd's crazy for you. i'm just the schmuck who gets the best seat in the house…"

you laughed, kicking off your other heel, your toes nudging his thigh now. "…mm. doesn't sound very professional, schlatt."

he shifted in his seat, shoulders rolling like he was trying to shake it off. "doll…" the word came out low, a warning he didn't really mean.

you tilted your head, feining innocence, even as your toes pressed a little firmer into his leg. "what? managers are supposed to…support their clients, right?"

the driver's eyes flicked to the mirror, then away. you bit back a grin.

schlatt cleared his throat, leaning back against the leather seat like it might ground him. "support don't usually mean lettin' some brat play footsie in front of the whole damn car."

"oh?" you blinked at him, all wide-eyed sweetness. "so i should stop, then?"

his jaw tightened, his voice dropping. "…i didn't say that."

you smirked, sliding your toes higher up his thigh. his breath caught, just barely, but you heard it.

"jesus, doll," he muttered, running a hand over his face, hiding the grin breaking through. "you're gonna kill me one of these days…"

"don't be so dramatic, mr. manager," you said lightly, leaning back, still nudging him. "you like it. don't you?"

his eyes cut to you, sharp under the brim of his hat, but the way his mouth curled betrayed him.

"yeah," he admitted finally, gravel low in his chest. "yeah, i like it."

you smirked, triumphant, and slid your toes higher, brushing right against the inside of his thigh.

his hand shot out fast, big fingers wrapping around your ankle. he held you there, firm but careful, his grip sending a jolt straight up your leg.

your breath caught. "schlatt—"

you'd teased him before. that was part of the game: batting your lashes, leaning too close with a shirt too small, brushing his sleeve as if by accident. he'd always played along with that crooked grin, always let you push, always kept it just on the edge of harmless.

but this was different. his skin was warm against your ankle, rough where his thumb pressed into you, holding you still. your pulse jumped so hard you felt dizzy.

his eyes stayed on you, sharp under the brim of his hat, but his voice dropped quieter, more deliberate. "that's enough, doll."

your heart tripped — not from fear, but from the way his words curled hot in your chest. you couldn't stop the smile pulling at your lips, even as this nervous heat climbed your neck.

he sees your grin. his mouth twitched, but he forced his jaw tight instead.

"i shouldn't," he muttered, so quiet you thought he was talking to himself. "you keep pushin', and i'm not gonna stop at this."

the driver shifted in the front seat, clearing his throat. schlatt's hand lingered another second, thumb stroking your ankle, his fingers climbing up your calves, and you see him take a deep, shuddering breath with his eyes closed, like an addict who just took their first hit in months.

your pulse jumped, hard enough that it almost hurt.

he’d touched you before — guiding you through a crowd, steadying you at the stairs, handing you a pen. things a manager’s supposed to do.

but this wasn’t that. this was heavier. firmer. and for a split second, you wished he wouldn’t stop. wished he’d pull you into his lap right there, driver be damned.

you liked watching him fight it — the way his jaw worked, teeth grinding, lips tightening into a straight line.

because schlatt wasn’t like the other men. they fawned, they pawed, they wanted a piece of the starlet. but him? he was steady. solid. he wanted all of you, all the time, no matter what state you were in—when you were yelling at him, crying on set, kissing up to other men, or jealously demanding to be the only client he managed.

that’s what made you want to break him. not to hurt him, not really. you just needed to know if he’d still look at you the same once the shine came off. if he’d stay when you stopped being perfect, when the act slipped and the picture cracked. because everyone else loved the performance; he was the only one who made you feel like there was something underneath it worth seeing.

his thumb pressed once more into your calf before he let go. his hand dropped back to his knee like he had to sit on it to keep from reaching again.

you sat there grinning to yourself, face hot, trying not to let him see.

nobody said anything else. the only noise was the hum of the tires and the city passing outside.

by the time the car slowed in front of his office, your chest felt tight. this wasn’t the same game anymore, and you knew it.

✧✧✧

in schlatt's office…

✧✧✧

the office smelled faintly of smoke and old paper, the kind of place where cigars burned slower and phones rang too often. the blinds were drawn, city lights bleeding through in thin gold stripes across the desk. papers were stacked high in one corner, contracts half-signed, a script with your name typed bold across the cover page.

his jacket was slung over the back of the chair, his tie loose, sleeves rolled past his elbows. it didn’t look staged for you — it looked lived in, like he’d been here pacing all afternoon before the premiere.

on the credenza sat a chilled bottle, already sweating, with two coupe glasses beside it. not the finest champagne money could buy, but good enough — crisp, dry, with a bite that stuck to the tongue. the kind of bottle a man kept on hand for moments he swore he didn’t plan for, even though he always did.

“see?” schlatt said, setting his hat down on the desk, flicking the cork loose with a practiced twist. the pop cracked through the silence, fizz rushing up the neck. “told you — tradition.”

you laughed under your breath, setting your clutch down by the stack of papers, skirts swishing as you moved closer. “every premiere, huh?”

“every one,” he answered, steady as he poured, the bubbles catching the light like tiny sparks. “you knock ‘em dead out there, we toast in here.”

the glass was cool against your fingers when you took it from him, brushing his hand for half a second. the champagne fizzed sharp at the top, little bubbles snapping as if they couldn’t wait to be drunk.

you held it up, arching a brow. “to what?”

he leaned back against the desk, glass loose in his hand, and gave you a look that felt heavier than the whole crowd outside.

“to you, doll,” he said. “to my star.”

you tipped your glass to his, the clink sharp in the quiet.

the champagne bit down on your tongue, not sweet, not smooth — but sharp enough to keep you buzzing. you let it linger before setting the glass back down, tilting your head at him.

“to me, huh?” you said lightly. “…don’t you get tired of sayin’ that?”

his mouth tugged into a grin, one corner only, like he’d been waiting for you to say it. “not when it’s the gospel.”

you laughed under your breath, shaking your head. “sounds like a lotta malarkey, mister manager. flattery’s cheap, y’know.”

he tipped his chin, glass turning lazy in his hand. “cheap’s what they write about you in the papers. what i’m tellin’ you? that’s the real thing.”

you arched a brow, lips quirking. “oh? and what makes you such an expert?”

“experience,” he said flat, no hesitation. “i’ve seen every two-bit ingénue this town’s tried to shove down the public’s throat. none of ‘em had what you got. none of ‘em could hold a room like you.”

you tilted your head, lashes low. “and what exactly do i got, schlatt?”

his jaw flexed. “everything that counts.”

you let the silence linger for a moment, then chuckled, setting your glass down with a sharp little clink. “you oughta bottle that line. sell it to every wide-eyed girl with pin curls and a smile. make yourself a fortune.”

“don’t need a fortune,” he said, leaning forward now, elbows heavy on his knees, his grin wolfish. “not when i've got you.”

the words hit harder than you expected. your stomach flipped, your pulse skipped.

so you pressed him. you stepped closer, chiffon skirts whispering against the desk as you leaned your hip on it, setting yourself right in his space. “dangerous talk for a manager,” you purred, voice syrupy. “people might start thinkin’ you’re sweet on me.”

his eyes cut up to yours, sharp under the brim of his hat. “let ‘em.”

you smirked, leaning down just a little, close enough to smell the smoke on his shirt. “that a confession, schlatt?”

his glass hit the desk with a heavy thunk, his hand curling on the wood like he needed to anchor himself. you were close now, close enough that your nose nearly brushed his.

the fizz from the champagne still crackled faint on your tongue, but the air between you was thicker, hotter.

for a long moment, neither of you moved. just breathing, staring, waiting for the other to blink first.

then his hand was on the back of your neck, dragging you forward. the kiss hit hard, messy, teeth knocking, his mouth hot and insistent on yours. the glass tipped, champagne spilling over the desk, but neither of you moved to catch it.

your hands fisted in his shirt. his sideburns scraped your skin, his breath hot as he pressed closer, one hand locked at your waist, the other gripping the desk like he needed something to hold him back.

but you didn’t. you pushed forward, knee hitting the desk, skirts dragging across the wood as you hauled yourself over it. papers slid to the floor. an ashtray clattered and rolled.

he grunted when your weight tipped against him, the chair scraping back an inch as you straddled his lap. his arms went around you fast, steadying you before you could even get balanced.

your chest pressed to his, both of you breathing hard, the kiss breaking for a second only for him to catch your mouth again, rougher, hungrier. your hands shoved his tie loose, fingers digging into his shoulders.

the office was a mess around you—papers scattered, champagne soaking into contracts and scripts, the glass rolling off the edge—but you barely noticed. everything was just him. his lap, his grip, his mouth.

your skirts bunched around your thighs as you shifted in his lap, trying to get closer, trying to feel more. his chair groaned under both your weight, his arms locked tight around you, one hand splayed wide against your back, the other gripping your hip.

he dwarfed you. every move you made, every shift forward, he caught you, held you, steadied you. your chest heaved against his, your legs straining to stay around him, and he just sat back, massive in the chair, letting you squirm and tug at his tie like you were a doll on his knee.

you couldn’t stop yourself. you wanted him — had wanted him longer than you’d ever admit. for all your pink dresses and polite giggles, your thoughts when it came to him had never been pure. they were sharp and needy and shameful, and now they were spilling out of you in the way your hips pressed against his.

he groaned, low in his chest, catching your wrists before you could tug his tie all the way loose. his grip covered you completely, his voice rough, strained.

“careful, doll…”

your eyes flicked up, dazed. “why?”

his jaw flexed. he looked wrecked, like a man fighting with himself. “because you don’t know what you’re askin’ for.”

heat curled in your stomach, stronger at his words. “i do,” you whispered. your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away. “i’ve thought about it. about you. more than i should.”

his eyes closed, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, a rough breath leaving him. his hands were still on you, big and heavy, but shaking like he was holding himself back.

his forehead pressed to your shoulder, breath ragged. “jesus, sweetheart…you’re too goddamn innocent for me.”

your fingers threaded into his hair, tugging just enough to make him look at you. “you kissed me,” you whispered, lips trembling but sure. “you started it.”

his jaw tightened. “i shouldn’t have—”

“—but you did.” you rocked your hips, just a little, feeling the thick strain of him through his slacks. his whole body tensed, a groan ripping out of him. “and you don’t do anything you don’t mean.”

“doll—” his voice cracked, warning again, but weaker this time.

you leaned in, pressing your lips to his jaw, your neck, whispering against his ear. “i’ve thought about this. about you. all the time. in the car, in the mirror, when i’m supposed to be smiling pretty for everyone else—”

he cursed under his breath, big hands sliding down to your hips, trying to still you, but you rocked again and he broke on a groan, his head snapping back, eyes blown wide.

“you’re gonna drive me outta my mind,” he rasped, his fingers digging hard enough to bruise.

“then let me. stop holding back,” you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “stop pretending you don’t want this as bad as i do.”

his chair screeched against the floor as he stood in one brutal motion, hauling you up with him like you weighed nothing. you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, but before you could catch your breath he had you laid out across his desk, papers scattering, the half-empty champagne glass shattering as it hit the ground.

he loomed over you, chest heaving, his tie loose, his shirt pulled half out of his slacks from your hands.

“you got no idea what you’ve done to me,” he growled, bending down to claim your mouth again, rougher this time, hungrier. his hands slid down your thighs, spreading you open against the desk. his weight caged you in, broad shoulders blocking the lamplight, chest pressed down against yours so you could barely breathe.

his breath was ragged, hips grinding down into you hard enough that the desk groaned. his mouth was hot against your ear when he finally let the words slip.

“you got no idea how bad i’ve had it, doll,” he muttered. “sat through dinners watchin’ you smile at men who didn’t deserve it. wanted to snap their forks in half just to get you to look at me instead.”

his hand slid higher up your thigh, grip heavy, holding you still. “press conferences, interviews — i’d stand behind you, hear every slick question they threw at you, and all i could think was how much i wanted to carry you out of there and tell ‘em you weren’t theirs to pick at.”

you whimpered when he rolled his hips again. his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“that night in chicago — you dropped your script on the curb. bent down in that skirt. i saw every pair of eyes on you, and i swear i almost lost it right there. i wanted to cover you up, haul you into the car, keep you where nobody could stare.”

your fingers clutched at his shirt, your chest heaving against his. he kissed you again, teeth catching, then broke away just long enough to rasp against your cheek.

“and at the studio, doll — you sittin’ pretty in pink with your knees crossed. everyone starin’ like you were a meal, and me? i was in the back thinkin’ about how i’d already claimed you in my head a hundred times over. filthy shit. darker than i should ever tell you. and i still couldn’t look away.”

he ground down harder, making you gasp, his forehead pressing to yours.

“i’ve been eatin’ myself alive…pretendin’ i didn’t want to lock you away and worship you till you cried. all while you sat there smilin’ sweet, actin’ innocent, knowin’ damn well what you do to me.”

his words tumbled out rough, his hips grinding down harder with every confession. you clutched at his shirt, breathless, your head spinning at the way he sounded — gutted, desperate, filthy.

you swallowed, voice low. “tell me.”

his eyes snapped to yours. “what?”

“the one you go back to,” you said, your mouth brushing his. “the fantasy you can’t shake. the thing you think about when no one’s lookin’. tell me.”

he froze, breath coming sharp. his jaw clenched, his hands digging into your thighs like he could crush the question out of you.

“y/n…”

“tell me,” you pressed, your voice almost a whisper, but steady. “please.”

for a long second, he looked like he might choke on it. then it ripped out of him, low and wrecked.

“the wall,” he rasped. “always the wall. i picture you pressed up against it, skirt up around your waist, your legs locked around me while i—” his breath broke, his hips grinding down into you harder. “fuck. thought about it so many times i could paint the picture from memory. you beggin’ me to hold you up and never let you down.”

your chest heaved, dizzy with the weight of how fucking hot that sounded. you stared up at him, lips parted, and then you smiled — slow, wicked.

“the wall, huh?”

before he could answer, you slid out from under him, slipping off the desk. his hands twitched, reaching like he didn’t want to let you go, but you just walked across the room, your heels clicking against the wood.

he froze as you stopped by the wall, turned, and leaned back against it. your skirt rode higher as you hitched it up yourself, hands smoothing it over your thighs.

“like this?” you asked, feigning innocence, tilting your head.

his eyes went dark, his chest rising hard, but he didn’t move.

you hooked one foot up against the wall, opening your stance just a little, eyes locked on him. “is this what you think about, schlatt?”

he cursed, rough and guttural, and in two strides he was on you.

your gasp caught sharp when his hands grabbed under your thighs, hauling you up in one motion. your legs wrapped around him without thinking, skirts riding high. the plaster thudded with the force of your back hitting it, his chest crushing against yours.

he let out a hot breath. “you’re not real.”

“i’m right here,” you said, voice shaking a little now. “so what are you waiting for?”

your back hit the wall hard enough that it shook, but he barely blinked. he lifted you like you weighed nothing, palms under your thighs, holding you open against him. your legs wrapped tight around his waist on instinct, your heels sliding useless against his back.

you couldn’t stop the thought — he’s huge. he could keep me here forever if he wanted.

his chest pressed you flat, his shoulders blocking out the light, his chops scraping rough against your neck as his mouth found your skin. you gasped, clinging harder to his shirt, dizzy with the way he filled your vision.

“schlatt—” it slipped out raw, shaky.

he groaned against your throat, his breath hot. “look at you. hangin’ off me like an icicle.” his grip shifted higher, fingers digging into the meat of your ass. “so fuckin’ small. i could break you in half.”

your stomach flipped. you tipped your head back, forcing his mouth away just long enough to breathe. “…you could try…”

he laughed at your mischevious tone, forehead pressing hard to yours, his jaw tight. “you don’t know what you’re askin’, sweetheart.”

your lips brushed his, daring. “i know exactly what i’m askin’.”

his breath came hot against your face, ragged, uneven. one of his hands slid down from your thigh, fumbling with the hem of your skirt, shoving it higher and higher until the silk bunched around your waist.

the other hand stayed locked under you, holding your whole weight up like it was nothing.

“schlatt—” you gasped when his fingers hooked into the thin strip of your panties.

he didn’t answer. just gave a sharp tug.

the fabric gave way with a snap, tearing right off your body. the sound was obscene in the quiet room, quick and final.

you yelped, heat rushing to your face. “you—”

he crushed his mouth over yours before you could finish, swallowing the shock out of you, his beard rough against your skin. he tossed the ruined panties aside without even looking.

you were bare now, pressed open in his grip, your ass resting heavy in his big palm.

he groaned into your mouth like the feeling of it satisfied a deep desire in him.

then you felt the shift — his free hand dropping to his belt, working it open with a speed that told you how long he’d been waiting for this. the metal buckle clinked, his zipper rasped loud, the sound sharp as a knife.

your stomach knotted, your body tightening around nothing.

his hand went inside, knuckles bumping your thigh, and then he was out—hot against your skin. you looked down without meaning to. thick. heavy in his fist. the head flushed dark, a small smear of slick catching the lamplight. a vein ran the length of him, pulsing under his grip. he stroked once, slow, breath stuttering against your cheek.

your mouth went dry. “oh…shit.”

“yeah,” he muttered, voice rough. “yeah.”

he shifted you up in his hold, palm under your thigh, opening you that last inch until you could feel the blunt heat of him nudge between your lips. the contact made you jolt. you were embarrassingly wet; he found it immediately, the head sliding through the slick like a hot spoon through butter.

“you sure?” he asked, barely a breath. his forehead pressed to yours, eyes blown wide.

“yes,” you said, quick and shaky. “do it.”

he lined up, jaw tight. the first push was steady, no snap to it—just pressure. a long, slow drag as your body gave. the stretch stole your breath; you clutched his shoulders and felt him pause, holding still until your nails eased.

“good girl,” he rasped, his nose nudging almost comfortingly at your jaw. he eased in another shallow inch. your chest hitched; heat crawled up your neck. you nodded, tiny, and he did it again—slow, careful, letting you adjust, letting you feel every millimeter.

you could hear everything: both of you breathing too loud, the faint wet sound each time he sank a little deeper, the tiny creak of the wall at your back. your legs tightened around his waist on instinct. he groaned into your mouth at the squeeze.

“fuck—so tight,” he ground out. his hand slid higher, spreading you wider in his palm, holding you exactly where he wanted you. “you’re takin’ me like such a good fucking girl…that’s it, there you go...”

another inch. another. your eyes blurred; it was too much and exactly right at the same time. he kissed you through it—short, messy presses of his mouth like he couldn’t stand not touching you somewhere.

you felt the base of him brush you and realized he was all the way in. full. deep. your body fluttered around him, a nervous and relieved sound stuttering out of your throat.

you blinked at him, still breathless. “schlatt—”

"if you told me to, i’d cut every deal, burn every reel, tear down every marquee with your name on it—just to keep you for myself. i’d do it. don’t think i wouldn’t.”

your pulse spiked. “that’s… insane,” you whispered, but you didn’t pull away.

“yeah,” he muttered, almost a laugh, “yeah it is. but you made me like this, y/n. months of watchin’, months of touchin’ you like glass while thinkin’ about draggin’ you off stage and keepin’ you where no one could touch you.”

his forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark, breath hot. “say the word, and i’ll make it true. say it and you’re mine tonight. not just a client. not bound to some stupid, paper contract. mine.”

your nails dug into the back of his neck, forcing his eyes to stay on yours even as your thighs trembled around him. your smile curved slow and wicked, the kind you never gave the cameras.

“yours?” you murmered. his breath hitched; you felt it against your lips. “if you’re gonna say things like that…” you leaned in, whispering against his mouth, “…then worship me. right here, right now.”

his forehead stayed pressed to yours, but his grip on your thighs changed — no more manager’s hands steadying an innocent starlet, just a man’s hands holding on like he’d finally found the woman he’d been pining for forever.

his fingers dug into your soft flesh, lifting you an inch, dropping you back down, a slow, helpless roll of his hips that made both of you gasp. you held onto him tighter, groaning, your head turning to the side, exposing your neck.

“mine…” he muttered against your neck, not even realising he was saying it. “mine…mine…”

he shifted you higher, your back arching against the wall as he buried himself in you again and again, deeper, rougher now, like every inch was a confession. every roll of his hips a release from months of silent longing.

is this what it feels like to truly be the shining star in someone's life? and you could have had this months ago? you grip onto him tighter, teeth gritting together with a strange mix of deep regret and swelling pleasure.

your breath hitched as his hips snapped up again, dragging a desperate sound from your throat. your nails clawed at his back, searching for something to anchor you to the moment.

“fuck,” you gasped, lips brushing his ear. “we should’ve done this sooner…”

he groaned like that broke something in him, like the idea of having you tonight, then having to wait to have you again had become unbearable now that he’d finally had a taste of you.

“i’m yours. you hear me? all this, all me — it’s yours. they can watch me onstage, they can scream my name... but they don’t get the real me.” you tightened around him deliberately, voice catching. “only you.”

his head dropped to your shoulder, a broken sound spilling from his chest as he thrust up hard enough to rattle the frame of the wall behind you.

“that’s right,” you breathed, half-drunk on the sound of him falling apart. “go on, schlatt. worsh ip me…”

his answer was a sound, not a word—something raw that tore up from his chest. your name tumbled out of it, half-curse, half-prayer.

the rhythm broke apart, every motion turning ragged, desperate, like he was trying to memorize you through touch. the room seemed to collapse to breath and heartbeat and the crack of the wall behind you.

breath. heat. the scrape of his shirt against your skin. the weight of him, all that strength shaking now. your name again, a broken whisper, and then his forehead pressed to yours like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let you go.

then the world went white-hot and soundless, the air splitting open around you. the pressure broke like a thunderclap, every nerve flashing at once as you clung to him. a shiver raced down your spine; his answering growl vibrated through your chest, low and rough, grounding you as the world came back into focus.

✧ ✧ ✧

for a long moment neither of you spoke. the city outside was still roaring, but in here it sounded far away, like waves under glass.

you could feel him start to breathe again—slow, careful, the kind of breath a man takes when he’s afraid to wake himself from a dream.

“you alright?” he murmured finally. his voice was hoarse, worn down to gravel.

you nodded against his chest. “more than alright.”

he exhaled a laugh that barely made it past his throat. “good,” he said, voice low. “that’s good.”

after a moment he shifted, easing you back to your feet. your legs wobbled; he caught you without thinking, one hand at your waist, the other smoothing down the back of your dress. “easy,” he murmured. “got you.”

the air between you was warm and heavy, thick with the smell of smoke and champagne. you could still hear his heartbeat where your cheek rested against his chest. it was slowing, steadier now.

“you should sit,” he said quietly. “there’s a bathroom through there—towel, mirror. i’ll grab you some water.”

you nodded, still a little dazed. “come with me?”

he smiled tiredly. “yeah, doll. not lettin’ you outta my sight yet.”

he helped you through the half-open door into the washroom, the light soft and yellow. you both moved in silence: him turning on the tap, you rinsing the little bruises around your wrists, straightening out your hair. when you caught his reflection in the mirror—tie loose, eyes a little wild—you smiled toothily.

he still had that hungry look in his eyes. you were glad that he didn't lose it.

“we look a mess,” you said.

“speak for yourself, baby. this is the best i’ve ever looked,” he answered.

the laugh that left you was quiet but genuine, the kind that made your shoulders relax.

back in the office, he poured two glasses of water and handed you one. you took a sip, then set it down, watching the ripples fade.

“what now?” you asked softly.

he leaned against the desk, rubbing a hand over his face. “now I take you home. and tomorrow, we pretend we’re still the best team in town.”

"don't gotta pretend. everyone knew that before you were fucked me."

"shit. and i was trying not to be so obvious," he quipped, his hand now going up to cover the blush that threatened to go past his cheeks.

"never mind all that, mr. manager," you teased, reaching for his hand. "what about tonight?"

"ah, ah, i know what you're gonna say," schlatt tutted at you. "you're gonna say, 'schlatt, can i please—"

"can i pleaseeee stay with you tonight?"

“see? knew it.” he tried to glare at you, but it came out as a grin. “you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

“mm-hmm. so is that a yes?”

“that’s a ‘you’re impossible.’”

“so that’s a yes,” you said again, already tugging at his tie like it was his leash, and you wanted him to heel.

he laughed, low and rough. “you got a whole damn apartment, doll. big bed, big mirrors, fancy view of the city—”

“and zero schlatt,” you cut in. “kinda kills the mood.”

he shook his head, but the smile didn't leave. "you're a problem."

"your favorite problem," you corrected.

"yeah," he admitted quietly, thumb brushing over your knuckles. "my favorite problem."

you hummed, pleased. "lucky for you, i solve easy."

he huffed a laugh. "that so?"

"mm-hmm. all you gotta do is take me upstairs."

his eyes flicked up to the ceiling, then back to you. "figures you'd remember i live up there."

"hard to forget when you stomp around every morning before meetings," you said, smiling into your glass. "so?"

he sighed, already defeated. "so what?"

"so are you gonna keep talkin’ or are you gonna show me where that bed is?"

"jesus, doll," he muttered, but he was already setting his water down, the corner of his mouth twitching. "you really don’t know how to let a man catch his breath, huh?"

"you don’t look like you’re complainin’," you said, standing and straightening his tie just enough to make him swallow.

"not complainin’," he admitted. "just—"

"shut up, schlatt."

he laughed again, the sound worn but warm, and laced his fingers with yours. “fine, fine. c’mon. try not to trip over the stairs in those heels.”

“i’ll manage,” you said, bumping his shoulder as he led you to the narrow staircase tucked behind the office door.

the climb was quiet—just the creak of wood, your joined hands, the faint hum of the city leaking through the windows. at the top, the apartment waited: half-lit, cluttered, smelling faintly of smoke and old paper.

“home sweet home,” he said dryly.

“you’re terrible at decor,” you teased, stepping past him.

“i decorate in contracts and cigarette butts.”

“so romantic.”

“yeah, well,” he said, voice softening as he came up behind you, “you fill the place fine enough.”

you turned, your smile small but real. “keep talkin’ like that and i might never leave.”

he shrugged, eyes half-lidded, tired, adoring. “wouldn’t complain.”

the bed wasn't anything special—no fancy headboard, sheets worn soft from use. it smelled like him. tobacco and something warm.

"not exactly the ritz," he said. "sorry, doll. no silk pillows or champagne."

"good," you said, kicking off your heels. "i've had enough silk for one night."

he laughed, unbuttoning his shirt as he sat down. "mmm…me too."

you paused at that, something settling between you. then, without ceremony, you reached behind you and undid the zipper of your dress. the silk slid off your shoulders, whispering to the floor in one smooth motion. it wasn’t a tease—it was a shrug. a small rebellion. you’d worn it for everyone else; and tonight, it meant nothing.

he went still for a second—then gave a low, appreciative whistle. “...hell of a view, sweetheart.”

you shot him a look over your shoulder, half amusement, half warning.

“what?” he said, grinning now, hands raised like he was innocent. “can’t help it. some of us appreciate fine art when they pull the curtain back…or was it 'peel the fabric off'…”

“you’re impossible,” you muttered, but the corner of your mouth betrayed you.

“nah,” he said, voice softer now, “just lucky.”

you draped the dress over the chair beside his jacket, the two of them wrinkled and tangled together. “no more costumes,” you murmured.

"no more cameras. no more press," he echoed, coming up behind you.

his hands found your waist, careful but sure. you leaned back into him, feeling the warmth of his chest against your bare shoulders.

"just us," you said quietly.

"just us," he repeated.

for a moment you both stood there, his chin resting on top of your head, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his forearms. the city hummed outside—distant sirens, car horns, the low pulse of life that never really stopped. but up here it felt separate. like you'd stepped off the stage and into something real.

"c'mon," he said eventually, tugging you gently toward the bed. "before i fall asleep standing up."

you crawled in first, and he followed, the mattress dipping under his weight. he pulled the blanket up over both of you, his arm settling around your waist like it belonged there.

"comfortable?" he asked, voice already drowsy.

"yeah," you said, turning to face him. his eyes were half-closed, hair mussed, tie somewhere on the floor. he looked nothing like the sharp-dressed manager who ran the show downstairs. he just looked like schlatt. "you?"

"best i've been in a while," he admitted.

you smiled, tucking yourself closer. "good."

his thumb traced lazy circles on your hip. "hey."

"hey what?"

"tomorrow's gonna be weird, isn't it?"

you thought about it—the office, the contracts, the careful distance you'd kept for so long. "probably."

"yeah." he was quiet for a beat. "worth it, though."

"yeah?"

"yeah." he kissed your forehead, brief and warm. "you're worth it."

you didn't say anything to that, just pressed your face into his chest and let yourself relax. his heartbeat was steady under your ear. his breathing started to even out.

"schlatt?" you whispered.

"mm?"

"thanks for letting me stay."

he huffed a quiet laugh. "like i had a choice."

"you didn't," you agreed.

"damn right." his voice was fading now, pulled under by sleep. "...g'night, doll."

"night, schlatt."

and somewhere between his warmth and the soft give of the mattress and the city noise bleeding through the walls, you drifted off too—no scripts, no spotlights, just the two of you tangled up in sheets that smelled like smoke and home.

“So hold on, let me get this straight,” You sipped the drink Sanji had brought you what felt like hours ago, even though all that was left was the water from the melting ice, you needed something to do to avoid looking at the two girls in front of you. ”No one has ever gone down on you?” Nami spoke slowly as though she was carefully choosing her words when in reality the alcohol was getting to her, Robin was swirling her drink leaning back on her hand.

“Is it that weird?” The night had started with a few drinks with the girls which Sanji happily brought you until the three of you went up into your shared bedroom, sitting on the floor talking about what Nami claimed was ‘girl stuff’ but in reality seemed to revolve exclusively around your sex life.

“I mean yeah!” You looked at Robin, hoping she would side with you, but you could tell even before her mouth opened by her pursed lips that that would not be the case.

“I think it says more about the partners you’ve been with then it does you.” She said, reassuring a concern you hadn’t even realized you had.

”Oh yeah, it has nothing to do with you, just seems like the guys you’ve been with have been shit.”

“Do guys usually just like…do it?” You wished you had more alcohol in your system, this conversation taking a way different turn then you had originally expected and you hadn’t really been prepared for this.

“Women do.” Nami grinned, leaning back on her hands behind her, stretching her legs out in front.

“That doesn’t really help me.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“A good partner will.” Robin spoke up, tucking her legs under her.

“I’ve brought it up, in the past.” You begin picking at your nails, suddenly feeling very aware of your surroundings. “He looked at me like I had three heads.”

“Please tell me you didn’t let him fuck you after that.” Nami groaned. The silence that stretched across the three of you was answer enough.

”I’m gonna’ go get us some more drinks, and then maybe we can talk about something that doesn’t have to do with my sex life.” You stood up, grabbing their glasses before leaving and started off towards the kitchen. Popping outside for the brief few seconds before entering the galley, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. The sun was long gone, the only light on on the deck was beaming down from the crow’s nest where you were sure Zoro was.

You shouldn’t have been surprised to see Sanji still in the kitchen, standing at the counter while he idly flipped through his tattered recipe book, looking up at you the second you came down the ladder. “Mon chou, I didn’t think you were still awake.” He came around, helping you with the three glasses that were now all in one hand so you could climb down.

“Oh yea, we’re just yapping.” he put the glasses in the sink, opening the cupboard to pull out three fresh ones. “Oh Sanji, I can just make them quick, they don’t have to be anything special.”

”Nonsense, a beauty like you has to have a drink that’s just as beautiful.” You leaned against the counter, watching him pull fresh fruit from the fridge. ”So what were you ladies chatting about?”

“Unfortunately, all the topics seem to be revolving around me lately.” He smiled softly as he cut a piece of strawberry into a surprisingly perfect heart.

“Sounds like a conversation I wish I were part of.”

”Believe you me, you don’t want to be. I wish I weren’t.” A comfortable silence stretched on between the two of you as he prepared the first of the three drinks with all the precision and care in the world. ”So, are you still settling in okay?” You had been part of the crew for little over six months, the everyday things had become a comfortable habit, but it was things like being at sea for so long and not really having your own space that you were still struggling with.

“For the most part I guess, I’m still not used to the long stints at sea though.” He nodded, pausing his preparation to turn and look at you for a moment.

”They get easier.”

“I just wish I had my own space sometimes.” He nodded. “I hope that doesn’t sound selfish, I’m just not used to being around people 100% of the time.” He added a pineapple that was sliced into a star to the rim of the glass before pulling the tea towel that had been draped over his shoulder off, rubbing it between his hands before putting it on the counter next to the two empty glasses, turning to you with a soft expression. There was no nosebleed, no hearts in his eyes, just a genuine member of your crew.

“I completely understand,” He paused, stepping closer. “I know it’s not the same but if you’d ever like some quiet time, no one besides myself is ever really in here between meals.”

“It wouldn’t bother you if I were in here?” He reached a hand out, his finger moving a piece of hair that had slipped from behind your ear, tucking it back into place. The tip of his finger gliding against your cheekbone.

“Bother me?” He smiled, a small laugh accompanying it “I would love to have you here. I always work better in the presence of a beautiful woman.” You were searching for something to say, even so much as a thank you seemed so far from your lips. You had never spent much time alone with the chef, let alone been this close to him. The blue of his one uncovered eye was so much deeper then you’d ever noticed, flecks of green dotting his iris. A dusting of the faintest freckles graced his cheeks and over his nose. You hadn’t realized he had moved closer until you felt his chest against your breast when you inhaled, alerting you to the fact you hadn’t spoken in what could possibly have been quite a while. Your eyes widened slightly as you refocused away from the smallest details of his face to his expression overall.

“Will you-“ Your voice seemed as loud as some of Luffy’s shouts, breaking the quiet moment of what you mentally refused to refer to as intimacy. He pulled his face away, stepping back on the ball of his foot to give you space enough to slip from between him and the counter, if you so chose. “Will you have a drink with me?”

“Who am I to deny a request from such an enchanting woman.” He lingered a breath longer, as though there were words dangling from the tip of his tongue but didn’t quite make it to his lips before he stepped entirely out of your bubble. Moving back over to where he had abandoned the one near completed drink, reaching up to the cabinet above to pull a wine glass down for himself and put away the other two glasses that were clearly not getting used.

”Could you…Could you make mine a bit stronger than before?” You hadn’t realized your face was already warm until it started to burn, suddenly you felt very vulnerable as he smirked at you.

“Think you can handle something stronger?” He chided, pouring a few additional shots of the dark rum into your elongated highball glass, a variety of fruit already cut into different shapes hung off the rim or were skewered in the glass.

“I guess we’ll have to find out, now won’t we?” He finished your drink before opening a bottle of wine he selected for himself, pouring a glass before clearing the small distance between you two to give you your drink. You clinked your glass to his before taking a sip, despite the alcohol you had watched him pour, you wouldn’t have known. The notes of spice from the dark rum, expertly sandwiched between vanilla coconut flavours.

“You don’t have to stay with me, if the girls are waiting for you.” He said before sipping at the deep maroon liquid. His gaze never leaves you, watching as you shake your head before taking another long sip of your drink.

“Truthfully, I don’t really want to be the topic of their conversation anymore.”

“You have to remember, we’ve all been together for a long time. We already know everything about each other, you’re new. They just want to get as close to you as the rest of us are to each other.” You nodded, leaning heavier against the counter, moving so you have both arms propping you up as you leaned over, your back arching in a way that was not missed by the blonde.

“I just feel like, compared to Nami and Robin, I’m so…I don’t know, lame I guess? Boring?” You pulled the skewer from your drink, guiding an alcohol soaked pineapple chunk off of it with your teeth. ”They’re both drop dead, unreal, honestly, they’re probably most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life. And then I’m just over here like their loser little sister or something.” It wasn’t until you felt a drop of juice from the fruit you were tugging off the skewer slip down your chin that you realized you had been rambling. “S-sorry…I guess the drinks are hitting me harder than I expected, I’m getting really whiny.” You looked up at Sanji for the first time since shifting positions, your lips sticky with pineapple juice.

“Everything you said about yourself,” He had put his mostly full wine glass on the counter at some point, his expression having changed, tensed, the same look you had seen him take before a battle. “Every single word out of your mouth was wrong.” You could feel your cheeks burning but you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol that was making your thighs jelly or if it was because of him. “Do you honestly think any of that is true?” You dropped your face, hoping the answer to his question was somewhere on the polished white countertop.

“I mean, I guess yeah.” You hadn’t noticed he moved until you felt a hand gently pull your chin to look at him. He was leaning down, your nose almost brushing his.

“You’re so completely wrong.” The words barely made it out of his mouth before you closed the very small distance between your lips and his. There was a small, muffled sound of surprise but it was more so at the force of the kiss rather then the kiss itself. When he stood at full height you had to move onto your toes to keep the kiss going, your hands moving to the back of his neck as though you thought he was going to pull away completely. But when you felt his hands wrapping around your waist, tugging you even closer to him you knew you needed more.

Whether it was the alcohol in your blood that was convincing you of your want, or the very long dry spell you had been going through since joining the crew your body was reacting in all the right ways. His hands on your lower back shifted, coming forward and holding onto your sides, very gently pushing you off your toes and effectively ending the kiss, much to your disappointment.

Your eyes were wide, doe-ish as he searched your expression for something, but your brain was too foggy to piece together what he could be searching for. When he didn’t speak or move you felt a pit in your stomach open, a wave of self doubt washing over you. “Fuck” The sharp word tumbled from your mouth before you could stop it. “I-I shouldn’t have…fuck” You could feel tears well in your eyes, the realization of what you just did washing over you like a bucket of cold water “You were just being nice…and I made it weird!” You stepped backwards as you pushed a hand through your hair, tugging at the strands as you turned around, trying to make a beeline for anywhere that wasn’t here.

He caught you by the waist before you could get too far, the alcohol making your coordination even worse than it normally was. “Mon chou, please listen to me.” He turned you around so you were facing him, his hand quick to wipe away the tear that had fallen. He looked like he was about to speak but thought his actions in this situation would outshine any words he chose. The weight of his lips against yours was enough to drag a muffled sound of surprise from the back of your throat. His lips moving with more direction then they had moments ago, his tongue moving along your lower lip begging for you to let him inside. And who were you to deny him?

He held you tightly against him, your hands bunching the front of his blazer in them as you parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slide along your own. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when you felt his hands clutch the back of your shirt. You could have stayed like this for hours, your eyes opening slightly every so often to see how relaxed he looked, how much enjoyment he was taking from this. That is, until you shifted, putting more of your weight onto him, you felt how much he was enjoying this.

Much to your disappointment you felt him squirm, trying to control his hips against your lower stomach. When you parted, you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your lips. “You just caught me by surprise, ma chérie.”

“I surprised myself.” You wanted to be closer to him, you wanted to feel him against you, there were too many layers separating you. “Do you…” Sanji sniffled, clearly trying to start the preemptive nose bleed “I actually don’t know where we could go.” He leaned forward, seemingly going in for another kiss but dodging your lips at the last second before landing on your neck.

“My my,” You could feel him smile against your neck, between quick pecks he was pressing to your pulse point. “Were you about to invite me up to your bedroom, mon chou?”

“Yes” The word came out as a long sigh fled your lips. He trailed kisses up to your ear, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke.

“But where will we go?” What was meant as a frustrated groan ended up sounding more wanton than you had intended. His hands moved from your waist up to your hair, running his fingers against your scalp as he pulled the strands up into a makeshift ponytail, giving him unfenneled access to your neck, his kisses trailing back down towards your shoulder. You naturally tipped your head, getting lost in the way his kisses began to linger.

“I-“ You furrowed your brows in attempted thought, opening your eyes that you hadn’t realized you had closed. “I don’t know.” If you were capable of any more thought, you would have tried to recall a time you had gotten so turned on by such a simple act, but considering even piecing together that three word sentence was as difficult as it was, you would have to try to answer your internal question at a later date. ”Sanji” You felt his one hand that still remained on your waist tighten at his name on your tongue. He pulled away from where he was sucking what you could only assume was a decently dark hickey in the dip above your clavicle, his bangs had moved so for the first time since you joined, you saw both of his sapphire eyes staring back at you. “I can’t take this much longer.” You tried your best to convey what you wanted through your expression, but when he didn’t immediately blurt out the perfect, private room that no one on the crew knew about (that you knew didn’t exist) you reached forward to paw at his tented pants hoping to quicken his decision making. His whole body stiffened, a quiet ah slipped from his lips as his eyes fell shut. “Please Sanji.”

His mind was racing as quickly as it could through the fog of lust, which was only made more difficult by the hefty glass of wine he had finished before you had even entered the galley.Your hand squeezed him through his pants, the heel of your palm pressing into where his head wept sticky precum. He forced his eyes open after allowing himself a few moments to enjoy the attention, looking up at the clock. Almost midnight, late enough that the bulk of the crew was already asleep, and early enough that Luffy wouldn’t be waking up to try and sneak a late night snack. The only person who they risked running into was Zoro, who had a terrible habit of coming into the kitchen for a late night snack midway through night watch. It wasn’t ideal, but he could make this work.

Sanji let your hair fall back over your shoulders and down your back, opting instead to guide the hand that was slowly beginning to jerk him off through his pants as he turned around and started walking towards the long couch that ran along the wall near the table they all ate at. “It’s not ideal, next time we’ll have to find a bed. But if you don’t mind my love, I think this could work.” A thrill ran through your body as though you were shocked, the tingles going right to your cunt at the idea of being in such a public and commonly used spot. “If you’re comfortable with it.” He added when you didn’t sit down immediately, still standing at his side, hand in hand.

“N-no it’s…fuck, it’s good.” You sat down, bringing his hand with you, noticing the uncertain expression on his face. “I like it…” You squeezed your thighs together, clocking the way his eyes darted down and watched, the true meaning behind your words worming their way into his brain. You began to squirm under his prolonged glance, unsure of where or how he wanted you, but he made no efforts to say anything. “D-do you want me to like, lay down or-“ He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly making their way up to your face, his free hand wiping the blood that was beginning to gather and drip. While your fingers were still intertwined, he moved in front of you, crouching down.

“May I?” You stared blankly at him, his free hand moving to your knee, gently guiding them apart to get his point across.

“Wait what?” Your face began to burn, as he shifted his weight so he was kneeling, your knees falling apart so he could see your plain cotton panties that you would have silently been cursing it you weren’t trying to wrap your head around all the other things he could be offering other than what you thought he may be offering. “Y-you don’t have to! I-I mean, I want you to but you don’t have to! But if you want to I want to. But you don’t have to.” The words were falling out of your mouth faster than you could control. His brow furrowed as he stared at you before you covered your face with your hands. “Fuck this is so embarrassing” you hadn’t intended for that sentance to come out, muffled by your palms but not enough for the cook to not hear them.

You felt his hands move from your knees, the warmth coming from his body disappearing. You pulled your knees up to your chest, wondering if you thought about it hard enough if you could sink into the green fabric of the couch.

But before you could will the matter to part and absorb you, you felt warm hands gently pry your hands away from your face. “My love” his tone was gentle, akin to the voice you would use when trying to soothe an upset child.

“I’m sorry” the words burst from your mouth as if you had been trying to physically withhold them, prompting a warm smile to spread across his lips.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” When he felt confident that you weren’t going to cover your face again, he released your hand and opting instead to guide a stray strand of hair behind your ear again. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.” He was standing awkwardly to the side of the couch, keeping your chin in his grasp despite not really needing to.

“I do want it.” He nodded “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” He leaned forward, having to brace himself on the back of the couch so he could press his lips to yours. On instinct your hands came up to his neck, your legs relaxing while you tried to take as much as he would give you. When he pulled away you chased after him before accepting the kiss was over.

“I want to.”

“You do? Like actually?” He couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out.

“Is that so hard to believe?” He pressed one last kiss to your lips before resuming his place on his knees in front of you.

“No one has ever wanted to before.” He was parting your thighs when your confession slipped out, making his movements stutter.

“Never?!” He sounded almost offended. You shook your head. His hands slid up the outsides of your thighs, grabbing the sides of your shorts and tugging them down, lifting your hips to help him pull them down and off your legs. “Merde” he balled your sleep shorts up, your cunt bare for him to take in. “If you want me to stop,” he forced himself to look up away from your pussy and up to your face, waiting for you to nod. He grabbed behind your knees, tugging you down the seat until your cunt parted and you were within tasting distance.

He couldn’t stop the moan that slipped out at the sight of your glistening folds, every part of your cunt was on display for him. He guided one of your legs over his shoulder before using his free hand to run over you, from the crest of your labia, over your clit until the tip of his finger could prod into your entrance. You expected him to push his finger in further, so when you felt his tongue lap greedily at your entrance your moan surprised even yourself.

His tongue pressed into your hole, moaning as he got more of your stick in his mouth, his thumb pressing into your clit to ensure it wasn’t neglected. You wanted to tip your head back but you were enamored by the way his head covered, the tickle of his golden locks against your lower belly and mound. When his eyes flicked up and met your gaze you both moaned in tandem.

He didn’t want to but he forced himself to part from your body, his chin was wet with your slick and his own saliva, his pupils were blown out as he stared up at you. “What do you need, Ma gâterie savoureuse?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, opening your mouth to speak just in time for him to pull his hands away from your clit and your entrance, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“M-more” was about the only intelligent thing you were able to force from your lips, watching as he smiled at you, pressing his lips to your inner thigh as a sort of reward.

“More of what, my love? What do you like most?” His warm breath puffed over your spread lips, your hips squirming in an attempt to get his attention.

“I- I’m not really sure…” The blonde clicked his tongue at you, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh, grinding the flesh between his front teeth.

“Do you like it when-“ he pulled away from your leg and slowly watched you as he pressed his longest finger into your slick entrance, drawing a shaky breath from your lips. He crooked his finger, rubbing against a spongy part of your crevice that you could rarely reach. He pressed a second finger inside, pushing harder against the section of your wall until you were grinding your hips to meet every thrust. “Or how about this?” He pulled his fingers out of you along with a long whine that you weren’t impressed with yourself for making. But very quickly you were trying to chase the orgasm that was beginning to fade as he replaced his fingers with his tongue, his eyes glued to you with every slurp of your pussy. You shook your head, bucking your hips up for any other sort of stimulation, his tongue not being enough for you. “So not that one?” He couldn’t stop the cheeky smile as he licked his lips, watching you slowly blink in an attempt to clear your brain enough to speak coherently.

“First was better” you said, swallowing hard.

“That’s good.” He praised, as he held your thigh tighter, forcing your body further down on the couch “How about this?” He was right back in your cunt, his lips wrapping around your clit as his fingers resumed this place inside you.

“Fuck” you breathed, your hands instinctually grabbing his hair and holding him exactly where you needed, as though you thought he was going to pull away. You felt him smile against you, changing from suckling at your clit to flicking his tongue over it, making your back arch almost painfully.

Your words were not your own, tumbling from your mouth before you could even realize it. A mix of curses, praise and non communicative words flowed with no restraint. With his free hand he guided your other leg over his shoulder, giving you the chance to tense your thighs, keeping him even more firmly in place.

Your body was burning, your entrance clenching around his digits as the white hot knot tightened to the point of ripping, your muscles contracting as you squeezed your legs, pinning him against your core as your orgasm crashed into you harder then you’d ever experienced. Wave after wave of pleasure rattled through you, egged on by his slowing tongue against your clit, his fingers gliding over your g spot slowly in time with your tapering ecstasy.

You hadn’t realized your hands were pressing his head into your folds until the fog of pleasure was beginning to lift, pulling your hands from his tresses as though they turned white hot. “S-shit sorry, I-I didn’t mean to-“ your voice faded into silence when you saw his expression. The lower portion of his face was wet with your slick and his spit, his pupils blown out and the hint of blood under his nose. His lips were parted as he breathed through his mouth, hands still on your thighs but not moving them from his shoulders.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, I could die between these thighs and I would consider myself the luckiest man to ever sail these seas.” He greedily licked his lips, and you noticed the way his gaze darted down to your cunt which was still on display to him, and anyone who stepped foot in the galley. “Do you want more?” You nodded, but when he leaned back down his tongue barely making contact with your overstimulated clit your protest stopped him immediately.

“Ahh w-I-I meant more of you.” His expression was that of shock, when he looked back up at you.

“Of me?” Suddenly you felt very sheepish as you nodded, your heart beating so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“I want you.” The words were barely louder than a whisper, so quiet that Sanji almost missed them.

“How do you want me, mon chou?” You could see by the look in his eyes that he wanted to hear you say it, he was getting off to the idea that you were asking for him.

“Sanji” you whined, wanting to cover your face with your hands knowing your cheeks were even more red than you thought was even possible, but you knew he’d be quick to stop you. He pressed sloppy kisses to your inner thighs as he guided them off of his shoulders, you knew they’d be a little shaky if you were to stand and likely you’d be feeling the strain in the morning. But all you could focus on was him.

He pushed himself to his feet, making quick work of his belt and fly but not taking his pants off, but rather pulling them open wide enough that you could see his boxers that were dampened with his seed. “S-Sanji did you-“ he avoided your gaze for the first time possibly since meeting him.

“Yeah…”

“Do you still want to?”

“Of course!” You were pleased, and honestly impressed he was hard again after having cum once already. His cock finally freed from the cotton restraint and swung out as he pushed his pants behind his sack. It was one of the hottest things you had ever seen, the tall blonde vision of beauty, disheveled but still mostly dressed with his long slender cock awaiting your next move.

You forced yourself to your feet, your shirt falling to cover your lower half as you wrapped your hand around Sanji’s cock, pleased to hear the startled ah that fell from his lips. You rocked up to your toes, your lips meeting his in a teasing kiss before you whispered against his lips “Mind if I’m on top?” He moaned at the question which you could only assume was his way of agreeing as your free hand pressed against his lower back, wanting him to take up your place on the couch.

He took up your spot on the couch, his legs naturally falling apart as his hands grabbed your hips, tugging you with him as he sat. As you were getting yourself situated on his lap, one hand bracing against his shoulder while the other guided his cock to press against your entrance, his hands slipping under your billowing shirt. His hands were warm as they slowly slid from your waist up along your sides until they could grip your breasts, drawing a simultaneous moan from both of you. “Seems unfair we can’t take more clothes off.” You leaned forward enough that you could press your lips to the corner of his mouth as he pulled your shirt up enough that he could suck a nipple into his mouth, breaking away to answer,

“Next time.” Before greedily sucking the bud as though he’d be able to gain sustenance from it, pulling a long moan from your lips as you sank down onto his cock, not stopping until you were fully sat on his lap. It had been a while since you had had more than your own fingers inside of you, so the stretch of his cock meant you needed some time to get used to it. As you slowly felt the sting of your cunt fade, he released your tit from his lips, his hands pulling away from your chest to hold your face instead. He looked like he was about to say something but thought better of it before pulling you in for another one of his earth shattering kisses.

As your tongues moved together, little moans slipped out of your mouth as you were unknowingly grinding your hips against his. You were lost in a world of pleasure, not enough to get you to finish but it was such a wonderful feeling to rotate your hips in such a way that his cock would graze over you g spot while your clit was rutting against his pelvis. It wasn’t until his hands dropped from your cheeks to your hips, blunt nails digging in as he tried to hold you still. The action seemed out of place, none of your past partners had ever stopped you before, you pulled your lips away to find his eyes already open. “Shit you just feel too good.” It didn’t sound like the words were intentional.

“I can do all the work, o-or we can stop?” You were so unsure what the issue was but you were desperate to solve it, no matter the solution. You were seconds away from lifting yourself off of his cock before you felt him push you down harder.

“J-just don’t move f-for a secon-d.” His eyes dropped to your chest that was once again covered by your shirt, having fallen back into place the moment you started kissing. You froze, barely even allowing yourself to breathe as you sat motionless, still impaled by his cock, your clit all but throbbing from neglect. “Sorry.” He breathed, meeting your gaze again after what felt like minutes. “Sorry” he repeated a bit more firm, a hand coming up to the back of your neck to draw you in for another kiss, pressing kiss after kiss from your lips down to your chin, then your jawline, your neck, nipping just below your ear where he whispered “You had me right on the edge without even trying.” He nipped your ear lobe sending a shiver down and then back up your spine before he kept kissing down, getting progressively sloppier but stopping at the neck of your t-shirt that was serving as a roadblock.

His hands left your hips, gliding over your skin and around until he could grab the curve of your ass, guiding you up his cock until just the head remained inside. “Feeling okay?” You nodded, desperate to feel every inch press inside of you, but the hands on your ass were keeping you from dropping down the way you craved. Your gaze locked with his glacier blue eyes watching your every facial feature to check for any signs of uncertainty. But of course, there were none, but he still didn’t release you from his hold, the corners of his lips turning up when you started squirming out of desperation.

“F-fuck c-come on.” You tried to groan but it just came out whiny, your nails dug into the back of his neck. He appeared to take pity on you, but actually he was just as desperate for you as you were him. He shifted his hold from the curve of your ass to your hips, allowing you to sink onto him at your own pace. A long moan pushed from the back of your throat as you felt every inch of him push between your gummy walls, until you could rest your forehead on his shoulder as you sat flush against him. You drew up onto your knees quicker this time, becoming obsessed with the way his cock dragged through your body, his grip tightening as your speed increased until the galley was filled with the sound of slick slapping and your intermingled moans.

His lips were all over you, moving from your neck to your lips and anywhere else he could reach, but you so desperately wanted to feel them on your chest again, the shirt irritated you far more then you could have ever expected. Finally, you decided to throw caution to the wind, sitting straight up, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the couch, your hips never once missing a beat. The way his eyes took you in was enough to make your cunt tighten around him, he drank your bare body in as though it was the first sip of water after days lost in the desert. His hands quickly abandoned your hips opting instead to grab your breasts, kneading the fat in his hands as he caught your lips again. You barely even noticed one of your breasts was free from his grasp until you felt his thumb press against your clit, your body burning red hot as your hips stuttered. You broke the kiss with the intention of telling him to stay exactly like that but the only thing that came from your lips was a slew of yes.

He was smart enough to know what to do, drawing your nipple back into his mouth while refusing to move his digit from the apex of your folds, moving it in even circles as you set the pace again. You fucked yourself on him, knowing your volume was getting out of control but not having the ability to change it. “Sanji” You tried, desperately hoping he could understand what you meant but were unable to actually say. And he, of course, did. But he couldn’t ignore his own impending finish that was approaching at an alarming rate.

“M-my love, merde I’m right there.” Your nipple slipped from his mouth, his tone was tight, you could tell his teeth were grit and had his nails been any longer you’re sure they would have pressed crescents into your hip. You leaned over, pressing your forehead to his while you put all your remaining brain cells to work trying to put together your two word sentence.

“Do it.” You felt his thumb press harder into your clit, his movements just as firm but somehow the movements were tighter, shoving you over the edge into the expanse of your orgasm. It felt like your cunt expanded, the pleasure filling every crevice of your body as you arched an amount that would be painful had it been in any other situation. You sat fully on him, feeling how he forced your walls apart, his heat white hot as you felt a warmth flood through you, giving you an awareness of your body you had never experienced before.

His jaw clenched harder than you had ever seen it, even during the most heated debates with his least favourite swordsman, he had wanted to keep his eyes open to watch you ride the wave of your climax, but with every pump of his seed they pinched tighter. You felt every pulse of his cock, each one getting a bit weaker until all that was left was Sanji whining weakly. But even when he was quiet, his head lolled against the back of the couch as his breathing seemed almost impossible to catch, you didn’t want to move off of him. Opting instead to lean forward and resting your head on his shoulder, getting only a small whine from the blonde in response to you accidentally moving your hips slightly.

You’re not sure how long you sat like that, but eventually Sanji was the first to try to sit up. One hand coming to your back making sure you didn’t tip backwards, the other resting on your hip to avoid you unexpectedly shifting. He pressed chaste kisses to your shoulder, lulling you from the edges of sleep back to the waking world. “Ji” was all you could manage, your throat scratchy from all the noise you had been making.

“Come on my love, if we don’t get you cleaned up and dressed soon, we’ll be interrupted by the shitty swordsman looking for a late night snack.” You slowly sat up, leaning back against his hold, your hips shifting enough that you could feel the stickiness that would soon be spilling down the insides of your thighs. He saw how you crinkle your nose at the feeling, reaching over and grabbing your shirt, helping you put it back on with slow, gentle touches. He brought both hands to your back, scooting his body close to the edge of the couch until you could feel your foot touch the cold wood of the floor. “Take it slow, I’ve got you.” And you did just that, slowly shifting your weight off the couch and onto your feet that were fully pins and needles at this point, lifting yourself off his cock drawing a low moan from the blonde which continued when he saw the drips of milky white that fell from you onto the black of his slacks.

“Shit, sorry!” You stepped away, squeezing your thighs together on instinct, immediately feeling the tops become sticky with his seed.

“Fuck” He breathed, his eyes moving from his pants to you in front of him, his tone was the same as it had been when he first tasted you. “Show me.” You furrowed your brow at him but felt the throb of your exhausted cunt. “I wanna’ see the mess we made.” When you didn’t move, he tugged on your wrist, standing up and guiding you into his seat for the third time that evening. He wasted no time spreading your thighs and bringing your legs up, the angle compressing your lower half so he could watch as a large dollop of his cum was forced from your entrance, electing a long moan from him.

“What’re yo-Sanji!” Your mouth was on your entrance, his tongue pressing into you.

“Please my love, I just want to clean you up.” He didn’t wait for a response before delving back in, being sure to avoid any contact with your surely sore clit. He tried to avoid lingering, keeping his mind to the task of cleaning you up instead of getting lost in your taste.