You stare.

He beams, unbothered by the silence. “May I come in and speak with you about faith, family, and eternal salvation?”

Leaning against the doorframe, you lift an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to come in pairs?”

Satoru nods, sheepishly. “My partner had to return home suddenly, unfortunately, so it’s just me today. I’m not supposed to but it’s my last run and I kind of had a bet going to get more people to sign up than everyone else.”

Honestly, you should turn him away; what business do you have falling for this farce? 

Not to mention the fact that you have to head out.

You’re wearing tall heels and a pretty little dress — he notices. Oh, does he ever?

His eyes are expressive; they slide down your frame, unable to help themselves, and linger on your tits and on the imprint of the apex of your thighs where the material clings to your body. One could mistake it for the reflexive appraisal of a stranger, which is fine. A second, third, and fourth sweep, however?

Not a chance.

Especially not when he subconsciously licks his lips and shuffles on his feet.

“I’m alone. Is that okay?”

He notices that you noticed him noticing. He blanches. Nervously, he pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “Uh, actually, that won’t do. Forgive me. I think I should get back to the church. It’s getting late.”

Smile curving into sharp points, you say, “Nonsense. Come on in. I was feeling in the need of saving.”

Satoru knows he shouldn’t, you can tell. He’d probably be breaking a million rules by entering your home, without his partner, and without the presence of another person in your home. Only a beat passes however before he clears his throat and decides, fudge it. 

So, when he strolls in, arm brushing yours, you both know he can’t blame anyone but himself for the sins he’s about to commit.

You gesture toward the sofa. “Please. Sit.”

He obeys immediately, perching on the very edge of the cushion, knees pressed together, posture rigid with good intentions. From where you lower yourself opposite him, crossing one leg over the other with deliberate slowness, you can see the way his gaze stutters. The click of your heel against the floor lands louder than it should. His fingers tighten around the book.

“Thank you for letting me in,” Satoru says. His voice is steady, though his ears have gone pink. “We usually begin by asking about family. Do you have people you’re close to?”

A soft laugh leaves you. “Not really. Just me.”

The admission seems to please and trouble him in equal measure. He nods, earnest, eyes flicking up to your face and then, traitorously, drifting back down again. Your dress rides up a fraction as you shift, smooth fabric hugging where it knows it will be noticed. He swallows.

“Well,” he continues, rushing a little now, “faith can be a family, too. A structure. Something to come home to.” His knee bounces once before he stills it with visible effort. “The Church is like that. It offers guidance. Purpose.”

‘Purpose’ hums in the space between you. You lean forward, elbows on your knees, close enough that he can smell your perfume, something warm and faintly sweet. From this angle, your cleavage must be all he can see. His breath hitches, barely there, but you catch it. 

“And what about rules?” you ask. “I’ve heard you have quite a few.”

He smiles, nervous and sincere, and adjusts his glasses once more. “They’re there to help us stay on the right path.” A pause. “To avoid…temptation.”

Your eyes soften, mouth curving. “Sounds difficult.”

For a moment he forgets himself and meets your gaze fully. Desire flashes there, bright and unguarded, before he looks away again, mortified. His foot shifts, heel scraping lightly against the floor.

“It can be,” he admits, barely above a whisper. “But it’s worth it.”

“So, you’ve never touched yourself. Hmm?”

Satoru makes a choked noise. “N-no. Of course not.” Then, as if realising he doesn’t need to answer questions like that, he frowns a little. “That’s not any of your business…ma’am.”

“And you guys aren’t allowed to have premarital sex, right? So that’d make you a virgin.”

He blushes. Hard. “I believe in saving myself for a very special girl, yes. We’re really getting off topic here. Please, allow me to discuss with you the programs the Church holds that might interest you.”

You rise from the sofa with an unhurried grace, smoothing your dress as if you hadn’t heard him. The hem lifts when you straighten, just enough to draw his eye again. He looks away too late, cheeks warming as he pretends to study the spine of his book instead.

“Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Water would be fine. Thank you.”

The kitchen is only a few steps away. You take them slowly, aware of his attention tracking you even when he tries to be polite about it. Cabinets open and close. Glass meets tap. Whilst you wait for it to fill, you glance back at him over your shoulder. He’s sitting straighter now, back rigid, as if bracing himself.

When you return, you don’t hand him the glass right away. Instead, you stop in front of him, close enough that your knees nearly touch his.

“Careful,” you murmur, setting the glass on the low table. “You look tense.”

Your fingers lift, light and curious, brushing through the soft fringe of his hair. It’s impossibly white, silk-smooth beneath your touch. He freezes, breath caught somewhere in his chest. No other woman had probably touched him like so before. 

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, though he has done nothing wrong.

A smile curves your mouth. “Don’t be.”

“Allow me to ease your tension.” Your hand slides to his shoulder, thumb pressing gently into the muscle there. 

“There’s really no -hah- n-need.” He exhales shakily at the contact, shoulders dropping an inch as if your touch has unknotted something he has been holding tight all day. The book slips from his grasp and lands forgotten on the floor.

Bending slightly, you lean closer, close enough that with one little stretch, his face will end up buried between your breasts. A flush creeps down his neck. You wonder if he’s ever seen a female body nude, if he’s watched porn, or has a dirty magazine hidden under his bed. Maybe, maybe not. Either way, he’s right where you want him, and you’ve got what he knows he shouldn't want.

“You were saying something about programs of interest,” you prompt softly.

Words fail him. His mouth opens, closes. When he finally speaks, his voice is rougher than before. “Y-yes. The Church holds Bible study groups on the weekend a-and— I shouldn’t be here. We’re forbidden from making inappropriate contact with anyone, least of all outsiders.”

You straighten just a little, fingers lingering at the nape of his neck before you withdraw them. The absence seems to affect him more than the touch itself. He watches your hand retreat as though he might reach for it, then remembers himself and grips his knees instead.

“Well,” you say, settling onto the sofa beside him, close enough that your thigh brushes his, “it’s a good thing we’re just talking.”

Satoru swallows, eyes fixed forward, ears burning red. “Yes,” he agrees, far too quickly.

He doesn’t shuffle away, like you thought he would. Perhaps he thinks it’d offend you. Instead, he remains sitting there, as rigid as anything else. The little Mormon smells nice; clean, soapy, none of that aftershave business. He’s all natural. Your mouth waters. 

Oh, you’re going to have fun with him. 

“Why are you here, Mr. Gojo?”

Grip adjusted on his book, he answers, like memorised from a script, “I am here to serve the Lord and deliver his children to salvation. I serve the Church and the cause.”

“No, why are you here?”

Brows furrowing, he answers, “I wish to serve the Lord by delivering you to salvation.”

Drawing close, you cage his arm between your tits, and whisper in his ear, “And me? Could you serve me, Satoru?”

His name from your lips sends a shudder down his spine. 

That’s when you strike. 

Manicured hand grips his jaw and keep him right where he is as you engulf his lips with yours. He makes a surprised noise and tries to get away, but you’re insistent. You taste the mint in his mouth, and you know he tastes the fruity allure of your lipgloss. 

It’s not an innocent, romantic kiss. It’s not a peck or a shy fumbling of lips. No, it’s messy, it’s dirty, it’s sinful. You’re practically consuming him. It’s all tongue and teeth and saliva. The lewdest type of kiss, one not even the most devout of worshippers can deny. 

Satoru is no exception — he puts up a good fight, but mere seconds later, he’s melting in your hand and into your lips. Soft moans, breathy and whimpery, travel to your mouth and down your throat. You swallow it all. 

The wet slurps are sending jolts to your clit. Knowing you’re toying with an untouched diamond in the rough before anyone else could soil him is dizzying. You need more. 

“Mm, is this your first kiss?” 

Panting heavily, his eyes flutter beneath his slightly foggy glasses. He’s confused by your question; it takes him a moment to realise you were, in fact, speaking the same language as he. “Y-yes. The Church — they, um, we’re not supposed to do this, to kiss strangers.”

You run a nail down his chest, thoroughly amused by the heaving of his chest and the swollenness of his lips. Your lipgloss is smeared all over them. Wiping the glimmer away, you say, “But I’m not a stranger. We’re friends, aren’t we, Satoru?”

He’s troubled by the sadness in your voice; he hurriedly kisses you again, to show he means it. “Yes, we’re friends. We’re very good friends.”

“Then, let’s get to know each even better,” you say, running that finger down his thigh now, where something hard and heavy rests. He jerks into your touch, eyes panicked and wide now. “Shhh, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. It’s just us.”

Satoru throws his head back when you begin rubbing his clothed length — gasping and shivering. He’s long. And thick. Certainly much bigger than you expected from the bumbling Mormon. 

Fuck, it’s going to be a tight fit. 

Your pussy’s already aching for it. 

“W-wait, please!” He’s pleading, writhing under your touch. “Something’s happening. Fudge! I-I think I’m going to pee.”

With his head back, his long neck is bared to you. You lick a stripe, following a vein, just as your thumb brushes the cockhead. A sudden whine, an intense shudder, and wetness pools under your hand. 

“Oh no.” Satoru slumps back into the sofa, gasping for breath.

He came. 

He came in his pants.

From a kiss and light, over-the-clothes petting.

Oh yeah, you’ve soaked through your panties. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mutters, cheeks beyond pink. He looks damn near ready to cry from embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to dirty your hand, ma’am. Please forgive me.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll forgive you if you make it up to me.” He nods, intent on doing whatever it makes — he’ll mow the grass, wash your dishes, vacuum the carpets. Anything. “Pick up your book.”

He blinks. 

That wasn’t what he was expecting. 

Looking down, he’s surprised to realise that, in all the teasing and seducing, his book had fallen on the floor. He hastily kneels and picks it up. He gets up. You stop him with a hand on his head.

“Stay, Satoru. Be a good boy.”

He gulps again. “Yes, ma’am.”

There, following your orders, he watches whilst you raise your dress higher and higher up your thighs and over your hips, and whilst you pull your panties down. A string of wetness stretches and stretches and then breaks as the distance grows too big. He sees it all. 

You throw the flimsy thing somewhere.

Satoru readjusts his glasses, lips parted and pupils blown out.

“Like what you see?”

Satoru gulps. “I-I don’t know, ma’am.” 

You throw a leg over his broad shoulder, keeping him where you want him. The last thing you need is him bolting for the door in a moment of doubt. No, you need him here, staring at your pussy.

He licks his lips. 

Maybe it’s too much for the Mormon boy to handle in one afternoon — after all, you’re not taking the time to ease him into it, to get him used to the idea of being alone with a horny woman in her home. If he was any other kind of virgin, perhaps you would go easy on the poor guy, but he’s different. There’s a barely restrained hunger in his eyes, an untapped potential that would go to waste if you don’t harness it now. 

Just as he has his mission, you have yours.

And you have no doubt your will is stronger.

“Wanna get a taste, Satoru?” 

Hands gripping the sofa, it creaks under his painful attempt to suppress himself. A literal war breaks out in those beautiful, blue eyes. “Perhaps I shouldn’t. I’ve already gone too far. It’s wrong.”

You pout. “But it’s not fair you got to cum, and I’m left hanging, is it? That would be very cruel of you, Satoru.”

“Cruel?” Brows knit together. He doesn’t want to break the rules any more than he already has, but he also doesn’t want to hurt you, or insult you. That much is clear.

“Oh, yes. I’ll feel all used up and unloved if you leave me like this. Am I not pretty enough for you, Satoru? Maybe you prefer girls who are perfect, like you.”

Vehemently, he shakes his head. For the first time since meeting him, he looks assertive. Spine straight, shoulders stretched out, and chest puffed out, he denies your insecurities, fake as they are, with a growl, “You are perfect.” Then, that dominant facade pops. Slumping, his cheek nuzzles your inner thigh. “Oh gosh, you’re so pretty. Prettiest girl ever. And you smell so nice.”

“Yeah?” 

He nods. 

“I’ve been told my pussy tastes,” you say in a sing-song tone — the words hang, settling in his very soul — and as he leans in without realising, as his mouth grows dryer and dryer, you finally bring him closer with your heeled foot, and finish, “heavenly. Won’t you let me know if there’s any truth to that?”

Transfixed by the even closer sight of your cunt, he draws closer and closer. His words come out a faint whisper when he asks, “May I?”

“May you what?”

He swallows, more embarrassed now than ever. “May I, um, may I taste your…”

“My…”

“Your p-pussy?”

“Good boy.” You smile harder. “Yes, you may.”

Is it the word ‘heavenly’ that bravely urges him to press his face to your pussy, the consent, or the glistening moisture on your swollen folds?

It doesn’t matter, you suppose; it feels amazing either way. 

“Ngh, fuck!”

Long, his tongue parts your lips, pushing its way in between and collecting your tangy juices on his tongue. Satoru groans. He moves forwards, shaking hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart to make room for his eager body. “O-oh sugar. You do taste –mm– heavenly.”

His inexperience is clear; he has yet to nudge your clit out of its hood, he doesn’t seem to know where your hole is, and he’s just running the tip of his wet appendage all over the place, seeking the taste and not your pleasure. Despite that, you’re breathless, arching your back, and threading your fingers through his hair.

He’s a fucking natural.

“Here, Satoru. Suck here.” You spread your own pussy, pointing to the top where he’s been neglecting the throbbing bundle of nerves. “It’s my clit. Can you say ‘clit?’”

“It’s your…your…um…it’s your c-clit.” He smiles gently when you reward him with a pat on the head. More seriously now though, he wonders, “It won’t hurt if I suck on it?” 

“No, sweetheart. It’ll make me feel so good. You want that, right? You want to make me feel good?”

“I want to make you feel so good.” His voice reveals his neediness, the boyish quality in the breathiness, and how he sounds so desperate. Hesitation disappearing, he wraps his lips around it and sucks. 

Hard. 

You cry out. “Softer! Suck softer. Fuck!”

The apology comes out muffled. He does as he’s told, changing up the intensity, like  a well-trained puppy. Egged on by your content sigh, he maintains it, whilst occasionally rolling the bud on his tongue.

“Don’t use your teeth, alright? Just like that mm. Not too fast or too hard, ‘kay? Good boy.”

Attempting to shut your legs around his head, you’re shocked to find his strength surpasses yours; he keeps them open, keeping you spread, without even realising what he was doing. 

It was something you’d notice earlier — he’s strong and muscular. Underneath the ironed shirt, he’s got a fit body. Does he work out or is he naturally like that? 

“Mmm, don’t stop. Keep eating my pussy, Satoru.”

Even without you needing to speak the orders, you don’t think he was ever going to stop. The Mormon’s really going to town on your sloppy cunt. He’s making out with it, though he only learnt what it meant to make out mere minutes before. His thumb is rubbing tight circles around your clit as he burrows his tongue inside your pussy.

SLUUURRPPP! SLUURRRRPPP! 

“It’s so wet,” he mutters to himself. “I can barely get a grip. Smells so sweet, tastes so tangy. God made you so beautifully. Thank you, thank youthankyouthankyou.”

Lightheaded and woozy, you find it in yourself to laugh. “Yes, thank you god.”

That ball of pleasure grows bigger and bigger inside. It’s been too long since you last felt a tongue prodding that gummy spot inside you that has you panting like a bitch in heat. Way too long since a man’s eyes were rolling to the back of his head from how sweet you tasted. 

Even more breathless than you, he asks, “Am I doing good?”

“Yes, yes, fuck! You’re doing so good. So so so good. Don’t stop.”

His hair’s grown a mess under your hands, with all the hair pulling and rustling. But he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he’s groaning into your sloppy cunt with every tug; the vibrations tickle your pulsing clit, which he can’t leave well enough alone. Over and over again, he flicks the tip of his tongue against it, rolling it and sucking, until you’re moaning his name. 

Those thin-framed glasses are askew, foggy beyond recognition. He doesn’t care. He’s being led by an innate, primal need for pleasure, not by his sight. You hardly recognise him — gone is the little nerd at your door, in his place is a beast.

Satoru laps at your pussy like an obedient, yet out of control dog. There’s no rhyme or reason to the way he eats you out. He’s just doing anything and everything. And it works so fucking well. 

Hips raised, you ride his face, nudging your clit against his nose. You’re using him as you please, timing it to the exploration of his tongue from your oozing hole to the very top, where he’s realised if he presses down hard enough, you’ll release more juices. 

“More,” he mumbles, huskily and not sounding like himself any longer. “Make more wetness. I want to taste you more.”

You cum with a stuttered scream. 

But he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know that shaking legs, spasming limbs, and elongated moans are signs of an orgasm — a good one, at that. So he continues. Licking. Sucking. Shhlurrrrrrping!

“Satoru! S-stop!”

You shove him away. He growls, and dives right back in. Your cupped hands prevent him. 

“Bad!” You berate, fixing him a glare. Your pussy’s tingling with sparks, overused and abused. He’s had his fun. Time for things to progress. “Stand up. Right now.”

Blinking through the dazed cloud, he stumbles to his feet, book still on the floor and completely forgotten about. It seems like he’s a man that likes to be commanded, to be led. So you’ll do just that. And as you thought — he’s hard again. There’s a dark spot where his tip is. You press on it. 

Satoru’s hips jerk with a gasp.

“Take your dick out.”

“B-but—”

“Now.

Belt unbuckled, zip down, blush growing deeper, and there it is. Not his cock. No, his undergarment; a white pants. You’ve heard rumours and memes, but never knew for sure if it was a fact.

Unable to help himself, you laugh. “Oh my god, you’re like an actual Mormon, aren’t you? That’s hilarious.”

Maybe he gets embarrassed, maybe he’s offended, but whatever the case, he adjusts his glasses and makes a move to zip his pants up. “T-this was a mistake.”

You stop him.

“No, no. I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you. Promise.” You wipe the humour off your face and give him a reassuring smile, fluttering your lashes up. “Why don’t you take it all off, hmm?”

His hands fiddle with the hem of his vest. “I, um…I’ve never been bare in front of anyone before.”

Satoru’s nervous, and self-conscious. It’s adorable. Feeling sympathetic, you grin. “I’ll do it if you do it.”

Standing up, you shrug his vest off, his shirt, that ghastly undergarment top, and then his pants until he can no longer hide anything from you. One wolf whistle later, and you’re creaming your panties again — he’s fucking hot: perfect skin, defined abs, tapered waist, a V-line, a flush on his chest and on his lower stomach, leading to his magnificent pink cock. It’s just as long and thick as it felt, and prettier than you could have imagined. And hard again. His cockhead is glistening with his pre.

To think, no woman was going to see him in all of his glory until their wedding night. That’s the real sin. 

He tries to cup his boner. You shake your head, tutting. “No, don’t hide yourself from me, baby. You’re gorgeous. My mouth’s watering. Help me with mine, will you? 

You grab one of his hands and lead it to the zip on your back. He follows your guidance and slowly, very slowly, unzips you. The dress falls to the floor. You’re naked. 

Lips parting, he stares in awe, and wonder, at your curves and skin. His cock bobs, leaking a drop. 

“Still think I’m pretty?”

“Yes. Yes. Oh sugar, yes.” One could very easily see his knees are threatening to weaken beneath him; he almost looks ready to pray at your feet. And you might just let him if you aren’t aching to be fucked soon.

“Such a sweet talker,” you drawl. “Don’t be shy. Touch me. Have you ever felt up some tits before, Satoru?”

Hands once again guided by yours, they tremble upon contact with the fat mounds of your chest. Your nipples are hard, reaching for him, and they’re completely unavoidable as he explores the shape of your breasts with hesitant gropes. 

“N-no. I’ve only seen pictures, ma’am. Oh gosh,” he moans, squeezing harder now, more sure of himself, “it feels so nice, so warm and soft.”

His hands are smooth, not yet calloused by age or hard work, and they draw out shivers from you. When he accidentally flicks a nipple, he’s as surprised as you when you suck in a breath.

“Oh no, did that hurt?”

You slink back to the sofa. Satoru follows, magnetised by his unrelenting grip on your tits. “No, it felt good. In fact, why don’t we make each other feel good?”

He doesn’t seem to know quite what you mean, but he doesn’t object when you maneuver him to lie in your lap. Confused, he stares up at you with doe eyes. That confusion doesn’t last very long, however, because, from his angle, all he can really see is your tits. 

The Mormon licks his lips, eyes basically black at this point.

“Go on, Satoru. It’s okay.”

Cautiously, he licks the underside of a breast. He’s testing the waters, seeing what he likes and what he doesn’t, and what makes you feel good. Once he’s satisfied it really is okay, he suckles on a teat and throws all caution to the wind. There’s no stopping him — he’s sucking and sucking, like he’s being breastfed after years of starvation.

One could liken it to the way he was eating your pussy; plain messy and driven only by vulgar desire. 

Meanwhile, your hand wanders downwards, towards the ramrod thing pulsing in the air. You grip the base. He grunts, sending vibrations through your tit. Reflexively, he grabs your other breast and squeezes for comfort. 

“You really haven’t ever jerked yourself off?”

Satoru shakes his head. “I don’t know how to; it’s scary.”

“Well then, allow me to teach you how to do it.” He’s not circumcised, which you had already predicted. Sliding his foreskin down, you carefully reveal more and more of him to the cool air. He hisses, burying his face deeper into your chest. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

At least, he keeps it clean there. 

When you finally start tugging on the length, his back arches. He’s practically scalding, like an iron bar over a fire. The poor boy’s been pent up all his life; his balls are near bursting, even though he came barely even ten minutes ago. 

“You start off slow, usually,” you say. “Slow and gentle. Then faster and faster, building up and up, until you can’t take it anymore. Of course, some people like it intense and fast straight away. That’s why it’s important to have experience.”

Thumbing his slit and spreading the wetness, you let him hear how squelchy! He’s getting from his own cum. But he pretends he doesn’t hear it, far too busy nursing on your tits. You see his abs contract though. Feel his stuttered breaths and the quiver in his lips. 

It doesn’t take long at all for him to start hissing. You don’t let him cum.

Satoru makes a noise of panicked complaint. “B-but I was so close.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Again and again, you withhold his orgasm from him, no matter how close he gets, no matter how nicely he begs. You’ve familiarised him with the look and sound of a man’s orgasm, and a woman’s. Now, you’re going to familiarise him with the pleasure of withholding. “Patience, young Jedi. Trust in me.”

“Please,” he gasps. “I need to–NGH!”

Pretty veins, cute balls, and adorable cockhead — it’s impossible to not want to mess with him. But he can’t have everything he wants. He can’t be greedy and spoiled. That would just be disastrous. No, he needs to know that the real boss around here is you. 

Plus, if you didn’t push him to the edge only to drag him back, you wouldn’t see the toe-curling look of a man who’s had enough. Satoru displays great strength as he spins around and pins you to the sofa with a manic glare. 

Towering over you with a feral glint in his eyes, he snarls. “I need to-to—Fudge!”

Underneath him, you lie there and brush the hair that sticks to his face away. “Cum, sweetie. It’s called cumming.”

“That,” he says with a nod, losing his edge as he basically pouts down at you. “I need to cum. Please, can I cum? Please?” His cock bobs to prove his point. 

You don’t have any condoms, and you’re not sure he knows what they are. But it’s a safe day so you say, fuck it. 

Legs spread around his hips, you nudge him forward. His searing cockhead bumps into your throbbing clit. You both moan. Every nudge of your crossed ankles at the base of his spine sends his cock gliding through your swollen folds. It covers his length with the same glistening juice as his lips were. 

That, too, feels good for him; he leaves a streak of precum on your skin, mixing with the oozing juices from your pussy. 

It’s not enough, however. Not when his orgasm has been withheld for so long. Satoru grows beyond frustrated. “Fudgecake! I can’t find it. Where do I put it in?” 

His glasses have fogged up and they’re threatening to fall off his nose. You take it from him anyway and fold them somewhere. Tears have sprung to his eyes. Cooing, you wipe them away, sucking on the salty liquid. Your clit pulses. You always did love making virgins cry. “Here, poor baby. Here’s my hole.”

With your help, he prods at your entrance and gasps as he swiftly enters. You’ve been so wet for so long that it’s not hard to welcome him in. But the stretch does, ever so slightly, sting. He didn’t know to finger you, to scissors those long digits in, to get your walls used to his girth. You can’t blame him though; it was your responsibility to teach him.

Purpose forgotten, Satoru jerks his hips inside, as if driven by instinct, a past life of debauchery, or a future of servicing. It’s as clumsy as his head game — shallow thrusts and bumps that lead to nowhere — and yet, it works. You’re moaning, and arching your sensitive tits into his chest. 

“S-so tight,” he grits out. “So -hngh!- warm.”

“It’s okay. Take your time. Get used to it.”

He doesn’t hear you. 

Too much blood has risen to his head and to his cock. He’s crying. Full blown crying. “So good. It feels so good. Oh fuck. God forgive me. I’ve sinned.” He whimpers. “And it’s so fucking good.” The dripping of hot tears, the pleading, the whines and whimpers, and the thrusting against your g-spot has you clamping down. 

“N-no!”

With a girlish howl, his dick pulses one last time and he cums inside. 

Burning liquid paints your gummy walls white. You gasp. He falls on top of you, muttering apologies. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pee -hic!- in you.” His words are slurred, drunk on the heat of your pussy. You pat his head. 

“You didn’t pee in me, Satoru. I told you, it’s cum. You came in me. And it’s okay.”

He’s out cold, just like that. He probably didn’t hear your last words before he begins drooling on your neck. 

.

.

.

“Ngh! Too much! P-please no more. I can’t take any -hah- more.”

Satoru woke up with you bouncing on his cock, head thrown back and tits flying up and down. It was enough to send him over the edge. He thought it was all a dream — a beautiful young woman welcoming him into her home when many never did, kissing him, touching him where he’s never been touched, letting him taste her petals, and allowing him to enter her sacred body. 

Although, as you ride him for all he’s worth, despite the fact that since his eyes opened to a blurry sight he’s came twice, he can’t deny it was all real.

And he has no idea how to feel.

The Church, the Father, and his brothers would scream if they found out. What he’s doing is wrong. It’s against the scripture, against the teachings, and all his values. He’d be scolded beyond reason, possibly shunned, and isolated. Considered tainted and impure now. 

Yet, there isn’t one bit of him that cares.

No one ever told him that sinning feels so good. Perhaps that’s the real sin. A crime, even.

His fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, simultaneously holding you there and also trying to pry you off. Satoru can’t decide. And it’s bringing him to tears. He’s sobbing, crying, hyperventilating. Born anew.

“Fuck, you’re so big!” You’re wantonly screaming, hair flipping around. Nails scratch his sweaty, flushed skin. Tight walls punishingly grip his cock. “Rub my clit, baby. Play with my tits. Ngh, do something!"

You’re so close to another orgasm, and nothing’s going to get in your way. He can see that in your vicious eyes. Too frightened by the obscene sounds you’re fucking out of him, he doesn’t argue. A thumb rubs your clit, just as his other hand gropes your breast. 

Soon, you explode all over his stomach and balls. A splash that renders him speechless and thirsty. You don’t stop. No, you continue bouncing and bouncing like nothing happened. It’s clear you need more, and Satoru doesn’t think he has any more to give. He sure does want to try though.

He can’t keep his eyes off you — you’re like a siren, luring him into water. A succubus draining him of his life source, pulling him deeper into hedonism and depravity. And, for the first time in his life, he doesn’t care. 

“You’re so tight,” he whines out. “D-don’t tighten up on me, more, please!”

The pleats inside you wrap around his cock, squeezing cum out of his length, and kissing every inch. The tip of his cock is bumping against something hard inside, and he finds it all too overwhelming. You’ve forced orgasms out of him too many times. There really should be nothing left in his balls. In spite of that, he can’t stop giving you what you want.

When he cums again, it’s almost painful. He’s orgasmed more times in one afternoon than he has in his entire lifetime, which wasn’t a difficult record to beat. 

He passes out again.

And the next time he wakes up, he’s in your bedroom, ramming his alive-again cock inside you from the back. He watches your behind ripple with the force of his thrusting, a force he didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Yes, Satoru. Harder! Fuck me harder!”

Sheets are crumpled up, ripped and drenched in a puddle of sweat and cum or something else entirely. Whatever it is, he feels himself covered in it. Doused. Cleansed.

He blacks out. 

Satoru’s shaken back to consciousness with the jostling of your body once again bouncing on his cock but this time, you’re pinned to the wall, hugging him to you. Your breasts are squashed against his chest, nipples scraping. Cum is leaking down his thighs. He’s sticky, and salivating, and sore. 

In spite of that, he can’t seem to stop his hips or the spraying of his cum.

“K-kiss me,” he finds himself murmuring, begging. “Please, ma’am. Kiss me.”

Your lips slam onto his. 

After that, he stops blacking out.

He makes love to you on the coffee table, on the kitchen counter, against the window, against the front door, back on the sofa, many more times on your bed, and in the shower, and he loses track of the positions and how many times he or you cum. 

There’s no way of knowing how many hours, or days, have passed. 

There’s only you, him, and the merging of bodies.

And he doesn’t regret a thing.

.

.

.

“Take care of yourself now, Satoru.”

The young man beams. “You too, ma’am. I hope to see you around.”

“Me too.”

He finally leaves, only a day later. Freshly washed, clothes ironed, and balls empty. Every step feels light, like he’d unburdened his problems for good. Maybe the Church will be mad at him for disappearing, but he’ll make up some excuse. They love him.

Or perhaps he’ll think a little more deeply about his experience, what he’s been taught, what right and wrong really means to him. Because a lot of people would condemn him for what he’s done, though none of it feels wrong, not even in the slightest.

Well, whatever the future holds, he’s sure he can face it.

The man’s become so happy-go-lucky, he doesn’t notice that a familiar face passes him by and heads straight for where he just left. 

“How did it go?” 

You wink at him. “Very well.”

A lock of hair is tucked behind your ear. Entering your home, he grabs your hips and pins it to his. You feel the undeniable imprint of a cock ready to go. 

“Thanks for taking care of him; he’s an uptight idiot who needed to know there’s more outside the Church than the lies they’ve been selling us.” 

“He’ll be fine,” you say with certainty.

Smiling, he insists, “I owe you.”

His fingers seek your soaking pussy out from behind, prodding and rubbing as he hugs you to his firm chest. You gasp, then grin. “I know a way you can repay the favour.”

He grins too. 

“I bet I know exactly what you’re thinking, pretty girl.”

The signs had been there all day.

You had seen it in the way Lucci watched you — those intense, slow drags of his green-gold gaze across your body like he was memorizing you, branding you. The way his fingers lingered too long against yours when passing a cup of tea, the way his breathing had become almost imperceptibly deeper, slower, more deliberate.

Heat.

You knew what it meant by now. Once a month, his animal blood overpowered even his iron will, dragging him down into a storm of instincts he usually despised. He hated losing control. Hated being reduced to nothing but the primal urge to take, claim, breed.

Tonight was worse.

You could feel it in the air between you — thick and heavy, almost buzzing. And even now, as you sat on the bed, pretending to read, you could feel him looming just beyond the doorway. Watching you.

Waiting.

"Lucci?" you called softly, heart pounding, pretending not to hear the way your own voice trembled slightly.

There was a long pause — and then the slow, deliberate thud of his boots across the floor.

He stepped into the room, and the air shifted immediately.

You swallowed hard.

He wasn't fully shifted — not yet — but you could see the signs: the sharp gleam of his pupils narrowing into slits, the slight enlargement of his canines when he exhaled slow through his teeth, his muscles tensed and coiled tight under his black shirt.

When he spoke, his voice was lower than usual — rough, thick with restraint. "Come here."

Not a request. A command.

You set the book down with trembling fingers and stood. Your steps were hesitant — not from fear — but from the electricity that seemed to snap between your bodies as you approached.

You barely had time to inhale before he seized your wrist — gently, but with a grip that brooked no argument — and pulled you close, pressing your smaller form against the broad, tense wall of his chest.

He was burning to the touch. Heat radiated off him in waves. His scent — deep, musky, wild — curled around you like smoke, dizzying and addictive.

His head dipped low, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"You smell like you want me," he murmured, voice a dangerous rasp. "You know what I need. Don't you?"

You nodded weakly, breath hitching, body already betraying you — arching into him, thighs pressing together.

He chuckled low — a dark, rumbling sound from deep in his chest — and his hand slid possessively down your side, over the curve of your waist, pausing at your hip. Holding you there.

"Say it," he ordered softly. "Tell me you’ll let me."

You shivered — half from nerves, half from the way his dominant presence swallowed you whole.

"I’ll let you," you whispered, barely audible. "I’m yours."

A growl vibrated against your body in response — approving, pleased — and then suddenly the heat between you ignited.

His body began to shift against yours — taller, broader, heavier — as the beast inside him took over. Muscle thickened under your palms; black-spotted fur prickled against your fingertips; claws pricked the bedsheets when he caged you against the mattress.

His hybrid form was terrifying — breathtaking — devastating.

A massive leopard-man looming over your much smaller frame, his green eyes burning down at you with pure, unfiltered hunger. He bent over you, nudging your cheek with his nose, inhaling deeply.

"Mine," he rumbled — a savage, reverent declaration.

You whimpered when his clawed fingers gripped your thighs and pushed them apart — rough but careful — as though he barely trusted himself not to tear you apart.

His mouth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear — and for a moment, he simply hovered there — breathing hard, muscles trembling with restraint.

"Last chance," he rasped, voice breaking with need. "Tell me no, and I’ll walk away. I’ll fucking tear myself apart if I have to. But if you say yes..."

You tilted your head back, throat bare to him, surrendering completely. "Yes," you breathed.

And that was all it took.

He surged forward — kissing you bruisingly hard, hands everywhere — dragging you down into the primal, raw hunger he'd bottled up for too long.

You moaned into his mouth as he manhandled you effortlessly — lifting you, spreading you, grinding the massive, throbbing heat of him against your core through the thin barrier of your panties. Still clothed — but barely — the friction between you was overwhelming. You could feel the hard outline of him, huge and leaking through his pants, rutting against you in slow, desperate rolls of his hips. 

Your skirt bunched up around your waist; your panties were soaked through in minutes.

Lucci's claws shredded the front of his own trousers enough to free himself — thick, slick, dripping precome already — and he pressed the blunt, hot head against your trembling entrance.

Still fully clothed, panting, grinding against each other like animals in the dark. You clutched at his spotted fur, nails digging deep, gasping his name.

"Lucci—"

"Shh," he growled against your throat, grinding harder, his cock catching against your clit just enough to make you sob.

"Take it," he rasped. "Be good for me. Let me have you."

One savage thrust — and he buried himself halfway inside — the stretch nearly unbearable, so big it stole the breath from your lungs. He froze immediately, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat as he fought the urge to slam into you.

"Too tight," he growled against your shoulder. "So good—fuck, you're good—"

He rocked his hips in tiny, controlled thrusts — barely moving — stretching you slowly, agonizingly, forcing your body to take every thick inch.

Your legs trembled, wrapped around his waist.

Every movement was clumsy, desperate, still fully clothed, driven by pure animalistic need.

Lucci's mouth latched onto your throat — not biting, but hovering dangerously close — and his entire body shook with the effort of holding back enough not to hurt you.

"Mine," he rasped again. "Always. Forever."

You could only nod helplessly — body burning, nerves on fire — as he finally bottomed out inside you, filling you completely, claiming you in the most primal way possible as his cock throbbed deep inside you, buried to the hilt — impossibly thick, stretching you so full it made you whimper breathlessly against his furred chest.

And for one, trembling moment — Lucci didn’t move. He hovered there, shuddering, arms locked on either side of your head, whole massive body tensed like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

You could feel it. The primal, trembling urge inside him to just take you. To rut into you like a wild animal until you forgot your own name. But somehow — barely — he held himself still, teeth gritted, low snarling breaths rasping against your neck.

"Too small," he growled roughly, voice cracked with the effort of restraint. "You're too fucking small—"

You whimpered, squirming helplessly underneath him — but the tiny flex of your hips against him was enough to shatter what little control he had left.

He snapped.

The first thrust wasn't pretty — it was brutal, needy, frantic — a dragging pull-back of his hips that made you keen, made your nails rake helplessly down the thick muscles of his arms. When he drove back into you, it wasn't smooth — it was clumsy, messy, as if he couldn’t not slam back to the deepest part of you, chasing some feral, inborn high.

"Fuck—," Lucci snarled, forehead dropping to press against yours, his whole body shaking.

He pumped his hips in shallow, devastating thrusts — grinding you down into the mattress, holding you like you might disappear if he let go.

Each thrust was a struggle — not because he wanted to stop — but because he wanted to fuck you harder, deeper, rougher than your body could take. He cursed low and vicious under his breath in between every slow, desperate thrust.

Your thighs clung to his waist, trembling, heels digging into the small of his back, trying to keep him there — pressed so deep inside you that you felt him everywhere.

"S-so good," you gasped, arching up into him, sobbing his name.

Lucci snarled — a dangerous, wrecked sound — and bent to crush your mouth under his in a kiss that was less kiss and more claiming.

Teeth scraping.

Tongues tangling.

Breathless, broken gasps between the slamming of hips against hips.

"Say it," he demanded raggedly against your mouth, pounding into you with short, brutal thrusts that made the whole bed shudder. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you sobbed without hesitation, clinging to him, body clenching tight around the thickness of him.

He lost it.

With a guttural growl, he shoved one huge arm under your waist — dragging you impossibly closer, tipping your hips up at a brutal angle — so he could bottom out even deeper inside you, grinding against your cervix with every desperate thrust.

"That's right," he snarled. "That's right. Mine. Mine. Fucking—mine."

He was rutting into you like he couldn't stop — rough and relentless, making you cry out with every slam of his hips, tears slipping down your cheeks from the overwhelming stretch, the raw burning pleasure.

Your body clung to him, trembling, and it only made him more frantic — chasing the smell of your heat, the slick between your thighs, the desperate way you mewled his name like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Gonna breed you," he growled against your throat, voice raw, almost mindless. "Fill you up. Knot you if I have to. You're mine."

You sobbed something — yes, please, anything — and that was all he needed.

His hips slammed into you faster, messier, all rhythm forgotten — reduced to pure instinct, rutting hard and wild and mindless, grinding you into the mattress with each possessive thrust.

You barely realized you were coming until your whole body convulsed — clenching tight around him — sobbing his name brokenly into the crook of his neck.

Lucci growled— A ragged, feral sound that was half-pain, half-ecstasy — And his hips stuttered once, twice — before he drove himself impossibly deep one last time and came. The heat of it spilled inside you — endless, overwhelming — filling you up so much that you whimpered against his neck, nails raking down his back as he ground against you through the aftershocks.

Even after he came, he didn't stop moving — slow, shallow grinds, refusing to pull out, cock twitching deep inside you, his massive frame caging you down, panting harshly against your throat. Still trembling. Still barely holding back from starting all over again.

You couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Not with the way Lucci’s massive body was pressing you into the mattress, the heat of his skin searing against yours, his cock still sheathed so deep inside you it felt like you’d never be empty again.

He was trembling. Full body, bone-deep shakes — low, ragged snarls rumbling against your throat like he was still fighting himself, even though the worst of his heat had been sated. His arms locked tighter around your waist, keeping your hips pinned flush to his.

You whimpered softly — half overwhelmed, half aching — trying to shift, to ease the heavy stretch where he was still grinding slow, instinctive rolls into your sore, soaked cunt.

The second you moved, Lucci growled — deep, guttural — and shoved himself deeper, grinding into the soft, swollen spot inside you with brutal finality.

"Don't—" he rasped, voice shredded raw from panting and snarling. "Don't move. You're not going anywhere."

You could feel the thick twitch of him inside you — the way his cock swelled slightly, as if even the thought of pulling away made his body rebel. Possessive. Wild. His green eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, pinned you — the feral glint in them making your heart stutter and your body shiver under him.

Slowly — as if he didn't trust himself — he nuzzled his nose against your neck, dragging in slow, ragged breaths of your scent. You felt the gentle scrape of his fangs skim the soft skin there — not biting, just hovering, threatening.

A reminder.

A warning.

You were his.

You would stay his.

"Smell like me now," Lucci rumbled hoarsely, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Inside and out. They’ll know who you belong to."

You whimpered — overwhelmed, trembling, brain foggy from the brutal fucking and the way his weight blanketed you.

Your fingers twitched weakly against his back — still buried in the thick fur between his shoulder blades — and Lucci purred lowly in response, pressing his entire body closer, caging you against the bed as if he could merge you with himself if he just pressed hard enough.

Even soft, even done, there was no escaping him. You were stretched to the brink around him — aching, throbbing — slickness smearing between your thighs, a messy, embarrassing wet heat. But Lucci didn’t pull out. Didn’t let you breathe.

His hips gave tiny, unconscious rocks — not to fuck you, not yet — just to keep himself inside, to keep the bond sealed, to keep your body trembling around his cock until you couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. His nose brushed your jaw, a rare, dangerous tenderness in the way he held you — like a wounded animal clutching its mate, afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip.

"Little thing," he rasped, the words a broken, reverent snarl against your skin.  "Took me so well."

You keened softly — overwhelmed, flooded with the heat and praise and the lingering, dizzy ache of being so utterly filled.

He shifted, lowering himself even more until your chest was pressed flush to his — your heart pounding frantic against his much slower, rumbling pulse.

Slowly, gently — he hooked one massive, furred hand under your thigh and hitched it higher around his waist, making your battered core clench weakly around him, earning a low, dangerous growl.

"Fuck—" he gritted out. "Tight still. Don’t squeeze me—"

But your body wasn’t listening — clenching and fluttering helplessly around the thickness of him, still greedy even after being ruined. Lucci’s control frayed further — he pushed into you with a shallow thrust, slow but unstoppable, grinding deep where you were most sensitive. You whimpered, head lolling back against the pillow.

He didn’t stop — moving in slow, aching, endless rolls — dragging his cock along every battered, oversensitive nerve inside you until your thighs were trembling and you were mewling brokenly against his shoulder. It wasn’t rough anymore. It was tender now — brutal in a different way — as if he was trying to mark every inch of you from the inside out, to imprint himself so deep that even time couldn’t wash him away.

The air was hot, sticky, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat and something more primal — something that made your instincts curl inward, pressing closer, submitting without even thinking.

Lucci pressed his forehead to yours, breathing raggedly through his nose, one hand still cupping the underside of your thigh, the other wrapped tight around your back, keeping you caged and motionless under him.

"You’re mine," he whispered, voice wrecked, low, barely human. "Always. Even if you run, little thing. Even if you fight me. You're mine."

You whimpered weakly, nodding — because you couldn’t speak — because it was true — because even if you could have fought him, you never would.

You were his. And he would never let you forget it.

He nuzzled your jaw again, low growls of satisfaction rumbling through his chest as you sagged bonelessly under him — utterly, completely spent — trembling from the overwhelming fullness and the soft, endless way he rutted into you, claiming you over and over, even in the trembling aftermath.

You didn’t know how long he stayed like that — fucking you slow and deep and possessive in the dark, murmuring broken, snarling praises against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your broken, shaky breathing against his massive chest, and the low, rumbling growl in his throat that hadn't fully stopped — a deep, vibrating sound of possessive satisfaction and lingering hunger.

You clung to him — fists tangled in the thick fur at his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck.

And he buried himself deeper around you, curling his larger body protectively over yours, surrounding you in heat and scent and the heavy, primal thrum of his heartbeat.

His cock still pulsed deep inside you, a slow, lazy twitch of ownership that made you whimper softly — overstimulated, overwhelmed — but somehow craving even more.

You could feel the way his muscles trembled under the fur. Not from exhaustion — no. From restraint. From the brutal, raw effort it took not to flip you over and take you again, harder, rougher, the way his instincts demanded.

Instead, Lucci dragged in a deep, shuddering breath — and pressed his huge, clawed hand between your shoulder blades, cradling you close.

"You’re safe," he rasped into your hair. His voice was rough, ragged — the words almost a plea. "With me. Always."

You nodded weakly, still trembling. One massive hand slipped under your thighs, adjusting you so gently it made your chest ache. He moved slowly, carefully — as if he thought you might break if he wasn't careful enough. Still half-dressed, your skirt pushed up indecently around your waist, your panties hanging loosely from one ankle — but he didn’t seem to notice, or care.

All he cared about was the way you smelled — the way you felt — warm, spent, and utterly his. 

His tongue — rougher in this form — rasped slowly over your shoulder, a slow, claiming lick that made you shiver again. Marking you. Scenting you. Binding you to him in ways far deeper than any ring or vow could.

You tilted your head weakly, exposing your throat without thinking. The growl that tore out of him was feral — but somehow gentle, too.

Slowly — agonizingly slow — Lucci shifted back, just slightly: shrinking down from his full hybrid form until he was still larger, still powerful, but more human in shape. Still, his green-gold eyes blazed down at you with naked, possessive adoration.

He cupped your jaw with one clawed hand, thumb stroking your cheek — a soft touch that betrayed the animalistic hunger barely restrained beneath his skin.

"You're too good to me," he murmured roughly.

You blinked up at him, dazed, body still thrumming from the aftermath. "I love you," you whispered hoarsely, voice wrecked from crying out his name.

Lucci stiffened — just for a moment — and then his mouth crashed against yours, devouring you in a kiss that tasted like desperation and devotion. When he finally pulled back, his forehead dropped against yours.

He was breathing hard, trembling slightly. "I almost lost control," he confessed in a low, tortured whisper. "You made me feel—" His voice broke off, strained.

You stroked his jaw with trembling fingers. "You didn’t hurt me," you promised softly. "You never could."

Another deep, shuddering breath from him — as if your words physically relieved something heavy in his chest. Carefully, Lucci shifted again — this time fully back into his human form — and collapsed onto the bed with you, wrapping his massive body around yours.

His green eyes watched you — not cold now, but something devastatingly raw. As if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

One large hand splayed protectively over your belly, fingers curling as if to shield the most vulnerable part of you from the world. He buried his face against your throat again, murmuring something so low you almost didn’t catch it.

"Mine," he breathed. "Only mine."

You smiled weakly, closing your eyes, letting the heavy warmth of him lull you into a fragile, exhausted peace.Outside, the world spun on — but here, in this dark little cocoon of heat and whispered devotion, you were safe.

Cherished.

Claimed.

Known for your blunt and straightforward manner—he respected it, in truth—pirates weren’t known to talk so formally amongst each other anyways, but this, he would be lying straight out of his teeth had he said he wasn’t taken aback by today’s new invasive question you’d ask him. You’ve said some weird things, never anything about potential love interests. His love life yes—which was… nonexistent, in your own words.

And yes, you make that very clear to him. A lot.

He looks over to you with your finger to your chin as if deep in thought, like you Straw Hats even had anything to give thought to anyway, and you finally speak, "Yeah... she might be too good for you. Scratch the thought."

He chuckles, “You wound me.”

“But if you had to choose from any woman in your entire life to ever marry, who would you choose?” And he has to remind himself that you are completely and entirely under the influence of painkillers, otherwise he would have mistook you for a 5-year-old with the way the question was structured.

“Definitely not you.”

“Law!” You pout. He makes sure that his back is facing you again so he could sneak in a little smile. “That’s actually a good thing. I’m out of your league.”

He turns around to look at you, hand on his heart, “My heart truly cannot take anymore heartbreak.” He says in the most monotone voice you’ve ever heard from him.

For most, it was weird that you were left behind by your captain, but in this case—and with a whole lot of begging from the Straw hat himself—you were rushed to Law’s medical aid. Mindlessly running into battle to protect your friends from a life or death situation wasn’t so appealing when you had to face the consequences for the next month.

But you insisted that you didn’t regret your decision if it meant that everyone was safe; or in Law’s words, you were just careless and dumb.

Even though Luffy himself had to be pried away from your side by the swordsman and the cook while you were unconscious for the first few days, Law had explained to you that they had to get a move on (In your crews complete and utter reluctance) for the next up and coming battle when you came to. And when you found out, you were a bit upset to be parted away from them, but quickly found comfort in Law's presence while you were bed-ridden, cracking jokes about how you’d call him captain until your time was up on his submarine.

He looks over to your bandaged condition, high off your ass, and he almost wants to laugh. Even in your drugged out state, you talk about your friends in such high regard, and try playing wingman with him.

You disrupt the comfortable silence while he looks over some of the stuff on his desk, “You’re not gonna believe this, but I’m feeling much better. Y’think I can go back on my own ship yet?” You’re already stretching your arms out. He calls your name with his signature “-ya” attached to it in a scolding manner, “What did I say about moving?” Damn Straw hat.

You immediately deflate and look down, “You’re not letting me do anything. I feel fine.”

“It feels that way until you move a little too much and start to open your wounds again, give it another week and we’ll see how you’re doing.” He’s looking through some pages on his desk. “We can go on another walk tomorrow if you really wanna move that badly.”

“Thank you, Cap!” You beam at him, he feels his heart jump a little bit.

-

Another week has passed and you’re itching to go back to your found family. It’s been this way for the past three weeks, but as the month goes by, you’d just grow more and more eager.

You made him question why he was even doing this often times.

He was a little offended by your verbalized pleas to get out of here, like he wasn’t helping you. In his own little ways, he tried satiating your boredom by doing things that were almost out of character for someone such as himself. He’d even let you tell him about your fellow crew members to make you a little happier.

You’d talk about Luffy quite often, maybe because he knew him way better than anyone else.

You talked about Robin and Nami as well, about how you felt like they were the sisters you never had growing up, about how close you were to them, about how you each met, he was almost sick of how much you talked about them. But if it meant that you were doing okay then that was all that mattered.

Is that why you said that thing a couple weeks ago? About Robin-ya? There was a sincerity in your voice. Robin was a beautiful woman just as you proclaimed, she was around his age, and all the things you said about her held truth.

Maybe it was true—Nico Robin was the woman perfectly crafted for him. And he couldn’t deny her beauty.

He brushes his hand over his face--maybe out of confusion or frustration, he can't decide. But he hated the conflicting feelings that resided in his mind, they made no sense. He never had an issue with women. He didn't want to.

From the day he met you, his beating heart understood an appeal his mind couldn't, you had an annoying personality. You made dumb decisions. You said things too brutally. You never thought about yourself and it was bound to get you killed one way or another. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been spending extra time with you and getting way too familiar with you, but he’s letting himself enjoy it far too much. And he doesn’t know how he’d feel once you parted your ways. He’s never been this close to a woman before, be it the lack of female subordinates on his ship, or his lack of intimacy with just about everyone, it’s a lot for him.

When he has his arm on your hip to assist you in walking and you have yours on his shoulder, he feels his heart rate picking up a little more.

Sometimes when you get tired you beg him to carry you back to your room, he pretends that he hates it, as he leans over for you to get on his back.

And the first week was hell for him when he had to wash you, because bloodied bath and scars aside, your body was beautiful. Every inch of it. He didn't want to be a pervert. He kept chanting the words; this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship, this is a doctor and patient relationship in his head when his mind almost slipped to unholy places. If you weren’t in so much pain at the time you’d probably have teased him for how red he looked.

But right now you seem fine, and you and Law (sometimes Bepo) have been going on walks around the submarine every morning now to get you used to physical activity again, you fall into the routine pretty quickly and you don’t seem as depressed as the first few days you were here.

A day ago the submarine ascended out of the water and met with dry land. He was conflicted in telling you— he didn’t know how you’d react. You’re in a completely different place now, different from where you were almost a month ago, it must've be a little weird to come outside after 3 weeks.

It was something that Chopper was extremely adamant on, only because he knew your tendency to wander and extreme desire to explore anywhere you went. You were quite the adventurous one, which is why the Straw Hat himself was probably so upset over your departure.

He sits next to you in a chair from your bed, mentally preparing himself and thinking on how he’d formulate the way he would go about telling you.

Would you stay by his side? Would you immediately go someplace else, and without him?

You’re sat upright in the bed waiting for what he had to say, “We’ll be getting some stock in this new place and I want you to come with us. Just to see how you do.” Your eyes get wider with every word that comes after the next, and you’re smiling. You hadn’t smiled this hard ever since you got here.

What he doesn’t expect, is you to throw yourself onto him. “Thank you Law! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Your embrace is warm, and easy to get lost in and he refuses to let himself have that pleasure. "Do they have a carnival? Can we go out to eat?"

He rests his hand on your waist in an effort to pull you off.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, you just got your stitches off.” And he does well to hide the small smile that starts to form.

-

Law insists that you have to be with him, no questions asked.

If not him, then Bepo—the usual routine. It kinda made you mad, I mean, why not go with the other crew mates? You needed the new faces, but he insisted that he wasn’t as confident in their skills to take care of you versus his. Bepo was far more comfortable to be with given his warm and fuzzy embrace. And you envied the captain for having him be apart of the Heart pirates instead of the Straw hats.

You’re excited to finally go out and enjoy the traditions of this new place, you’re wearing a tight dress that looks almost too good on you.

Very much to Law’s complete and utter dismay, as well as his pleasure.

You made a joke to him earlier and told him you were surprised that he didn’t make you wear one of his jumpsuits the rest of the crew wore, then you’re calling him Captain Law to egg on the joke further. All he does is tsk and roll his eyes, like all the time. But you can tell he’s gotten more comfortable with you, and you appreciated it.

Anyway, the town’s food was delectable, you grab some food to-go and eat it while taking a stroll through the busy streets, the smell of more food, presumably some fresh-baked bread met your nostrils and you sighed out of pure satisfaction.

Your partner, on the other hand, all but scowled.

Which gave you an idea.

“Law, let’s go try some bread. I bet they have it freshly baked the way it smells so good.” You hang off of his arm to try and get him to come with you. And he swears the close proximity shouldn’t make him feel weird. He’s been much closer and he’s seen you in much more vulnerable circumstances, but this was different.

He kinda regrets telling you about the bread thing.

“C’moooonnn, you’re a liar if you say you hate bread.” You’re pulling him by his arm now, insisting on getting him into the bakery to try some sweet bread. “I never said I hated it, I said I didn’t like the taste.” This is practically a push and pull game now, “People are looking at us. We’re keeping a low profile, remember?”

You pull away from him in complete and utter defeat and tuck your hands over your chest.

He doesn’t want to miss your touch, but once again, his heart betrays him. “You’re no fun.”

He doesn’t have to miss the skinship for long, almost instantly you’re body is hanging back off of his bicep, talking about the next subject of your absolute fascination, which now happened to be a huge teddy bear plushy that was on display at a ‘convenience’ store. Not only are you closer to him but he can feel your breasts pushing onto his arm. He shudders.

And he tries remaining calm and reminding himself to not be a pervert, you always did this. You always touched him, he touched you. You were doing this as a means for support to walk better (even though you’ve been walking fine for a while now). That’s it.

You interrupt the awkward silence between you two before he starts to feel the immense guilt come over him and he thanks you in his head. His very perverted head. “I feel so much better now that we’re on land again, I feel like I haven’t had fresh air my whole life.” You breathe in and breathe a heavy breath out. “You’re exaggerating, you were on deck not too long ago.”

Your next movement makes him tense, you lay your head on top of his tattooed shoulder. “Thank you so much for taking me out, Law.” And give his captured arm a little squeeze, inevitably making him feel your breasts so much more.

He wants to die.

Collecting himself, he clears his through, “You’re making it seem like this is a date. I’m just here to monitor your progress.” He looks at you then looks ahead.

“Why can’t it be a date?” You ask him, still hanging off of his arm.

If you didn’t feel him tense then, it was especially obvious now. And he was trying to mask how weird he felt when you said that, but every part of him felt really hot, and he prayed that his cheeks weren’t tomato red right now.

“Aww! Look at them, young love, huh?”

“Ooooh, they’re an attractive couple…”

“They’re so cute!”

He calls your name a little coldly, “Get off of my shoulder, you’re sending people the wrong message.” He actually didn’t mind it, but he swears he might die if he feels your breast push up on him one more time. “Sorry…” So you withdraw your body completely from his, (which he totally doesn’t regret at all) and you start your walk with him again, minus your body on his this time.

Letting your eyes wander once again and away from Law, you settle on a trinket store, and the idea of buying Usopp a little gift pops into your head immediately. Just because.

You walk into the store full of weird things galore. You settle on a super shiny thing first and when you pick it up, the salesmen is immediately by your side, “This is a one of a kind (doo-hicky) which can only be found on this here island! (you saw this thing at the convenience store as well) Usual price would be 20,000 berries, but for your pretty little self, I’ll make it 19!”

“Yeah, no.” He immediately deflates.

You continue your walk through the store and not shortly after you land on something that you immediately found more intriguing than the last.

“Law look at this! You would love this!” You turn around,

But there’s just one problem.

Law isn’t with you anymore.

Oh.

And when you wave the salesmen off empty-handed, he seems a little angered but bids his goodbye and fake come again! as well. You look towards the street and it seems like it’s gotten busier.

“Law’s going to kill me!”

You try fishing through the crowd and scanning for a white spotted hat, or fuzzy white fur, but everyone looks plain and simple. Which makes you think about how you guys kinda stick out like sore thumbs… anyway.

You search and search until you find that signature hat you’re looking for, excuse yourself in between what felt like hundreds of strangers and you catch up to him. You grab his hand in excitement, “Law!” Only for it to be quickly taken back, it was a stranger, with eyes that you’re sure could burn holes into you. You say your little sorry and resume your search.

After a long period of searching you’re drained, physically and mentally. You’re sure that if he found you he’d probably strap you down to your bed and not let you leave.

Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.

You’re defeated, extremely, entirely. Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t been outside like this for what felt like forever, maybe it was the fact that the sun was setting now, or even maybe it was ‘cause you needed Law with you the most right now. You find a near bench and just sit.

And maybe that exhaustion finally got the better of you, because you swore you could see his big muscular tattooed figure paired with Bepo's white fur walking towards you as you dose off into a really, really nice sleep.

-

The sound of one—no, two muffled voices wake you from your slumber, your vision is blurry, and if you were right about him saving you, you could hear what you assume to be Law’s medical instruments clacking together. A sound you’ve grown all too familiar with.

“Captain, you don’t think that’s a little harsh?”

“Did you see what she pulled out there?”

Bepo is silent for a bit, then sighs, “If you think it’s best for her.” He leaves the room on his own accord, leaving just you and the very scary man alone.

“I know you’re up.” He calls you with a firmness in his tone.

Much to your unwillingness, you sit up straight, tail between your legs. He looked a bit unkempt, and you couldn't pinpoint if it was because of you or something else. In whatever way, you felt a little guilty.

“Just plain reckless and obnoxious.” He towers over you, “I have a job to complete, and that requires you being taken care of.”

He's pacing around in your room-- the room, of his ship. Not yours. You've never seen him like this. Like he was distressed. He stills and looks at you. “You’re not coming out the rest of the week. You can wait until Straw Hat comes and picks you up.”

“What am I, a child?" You swing your legs around to meet the floor and pick yourself up.

"With the shit you just pulled, maybe."

With a scoff, "That's low, even for you, Law. It was an honest mistake and you're making it seem like I almost got us killed? You knew what you were getting into when you took me out!" you pinch your nose in a mix of frustration and some previous dizziness. "Sorry I can't be like Robin!"

Huh? Like who?

He immediately looks at you, and sees a little a tiny but of regret in your face. Like you had just got caught with a big secret.

Well maybe, that’s what it was.

“What is your deal with me and your crew mate, huh?”

Your confident demeanor is quick to fade away and if he didn’t know better, he would say that you were almost a bit embarrassed now. He really couldn’t tell what it was. You weren’t angry anymore, that was for certain. You’re not looking at him with those harsh eyes, you’ve been reduced to silence.

It makes him think a bit. He says your name in an attempt to get you to look at him and he succeeds almost barely.

“You wouldn’t happen to be…”

“Jealous?”

If there was ever a more dramatic gasp, it certainly couldn’t have topped the one that just came out your mouth. “How dare you! Not one bit!” Suddenly he has this new profound confidence to him, and his frustrations suddenly wiped clean off his mind. He looks at you with his grin all-knowing, and by God you hated when he did that. You wish you could have wiped it off and smacked it off of him.

“So explain to me, what’s the point of mentioning her again?” You don’t realize it, but he’s inching a bit closer while you’re avoiding any and all contact with him, you’re red. Red all over. Cheeks, ears, neck—everywhere. And you don’t know what to do with your hands, you can feel them collect sweat now. You don’t know why. Because his accusation was false.

He’s in front of you now.

“W-What are you doing? Law?” You scan his face because his stare down is relentless and unforgiving, and his hand finds its way up your neck and soon your chin. He’s awfully quiet. It’s unsettling. You put your hands on his chest to hopefully put a halt in the proximity. “Can you please te—”

His mouth is on yours. It’s a little shocking at first but you’re not pulling away.

And you don’t remember closing your eyes and snaking your hands around his neck, and pulling him in, but you do. His own tattooed hands found caressing your body. And the kiss was really, really passionate. He didn’t think it was gonna be this good, but he was wrong.

He was always wrong about you. Wrong about how he didn’t think you were right for him, wrong about your personality, attitude, everything. He really wanted to stay wrong until you would leave and he’d hardly have to see you again. He’s almost pissed he’s letting himself bask in your warmth and intimacy.

But now that he has it, he can’t go without it.

Few words are exchanged, but what he can do is guide you and put you back on your bed with your lips barely still connected trying to reach for each others and you think to yourself, for a man who claims to not have had so much going on in his love life he sure was skilled in whatever this was. He doesn’t want to take them off of yours. He can’t now. Your hands are under his shirt caressing every part of his torso. The feeling of his abs turned you on so much more and you felt your cunt throb a bit. You were aching for his body and he could tell, he takes his lips off yours with a whine from you that follows suit and immediately licks, sucks and kisses your neck, your audible satisfaction letting him know that he’s made you feel great.

“I need you… so bad.” You say in between huffs.

“How can I be so sure you deserve it?” He gets up, and takes his body off of yours, lips glossy. “How do I know that you won’t pass out on me, either?” He disguises his slight worry in a taunting statement, he’d try being as gentle as possible but he couldn’t make any promises.

“I won’t do that, and please Law. It was a mistake, honest. I need you inside. I wanted this so bad. Please!” You tug him by his shirt, urging him to come back down, he doesn’t. He thinks on your words a bit. You wanted this just as much as he did.

“Take your clothes off.”

He laughs at the very quick work you make of taking every single article of clothing, save for your bra and panties, off. There it was, the very image that kept him up for nights, shamefully touching himself to the thought of you on top of him, and him on top of you. Soon he joins, dropping his shirt and jeans and all else except his boxers, to the floor. He returns to your neck, his body on top of yours and you can feel his clothes dick pressing onto your clit ever so slightly, it draws a shaky breath out of you. “Do you know what you do to me?” He slides down your bra to continue his trail of kisses and licks on your nipples. “And you’re worrying about someone else. You’re so pathetic.”

You arch impossibly closer into him and start to buck your hips into his crotch.

“Need it sooo bad, put it inside me already, pleaaaaase!” His dick is throbbing in his boxers now. He shakes his head “You’re not prepped.”

“I’m wet enough, please baby. I need you inside of me.” You claw at his chest in an attempt to get what you want. Law’s a little taken aback by your very adamant declaration. But he should’ve figured as much, after all you were pretty straight to the point.

He refuses your request, he can’t. He goes down on you anyways, taking off your panties and the string of wetness that connected from your underwear to your cunt validated your statement. This was straight out of one of his wet dreams; you sprawled out and begging to be filled with his aching cock. He wanted more than anything to make you beg for him like your life depended on it to carry out the fantasy but, he was afraid he was just as desperate as you were right now. He continued and gently presses your legs up, swiping his thumb across your slit to test the waters (literally), your slick gathered onto his thumb and made a great lubricant, but he still wanted to make you feel good.

He licks his thumb clean and settles between your legs and gives your throbbing heat a few lips and sucks on your clit. He can feel you shake underneath him, and he separates your legs by your inner thighs to get a better angle.

The image in front of you made you hot, that’s all you could say about it. It made you hot and shaky and you thought you were going to die if you didn’t feel him inside of you soon, Law hears your pleas, and to temporarily compensate for it, he sticks two fingers into you while he’s practically making out with your clit. You look down with an almost drowsy expression, your moans get so much louder but you don’t even care anymore. He was sexy and he was eating you out. That would be your excuse to anyone who dared to get too close to the door.

His two fingers were pretty big enough to even cause you a bit of trouble alone, and his constant prodding and scissoring made you seethe a bit, but you didn’t care because the pain and the pleasure mixed together made you feel the growing orgasm in your stomach. You shout his name, “I’m gonna— I’m g-gonna cum… mmm~” your whines and moans are breathy.

But he pulls away, and you look to him in shock. He gets up from his position and he’s on his knees in front of you, and he’s threatening the hem of his boxers, you quickly forget about your failed orgasm, knowing the main course was yet to come.

It almost feels like when he pulls down his boxers, time is in slow motion. Maybe because you wanted him extra due to the lack of action you were getting, and your inability to masturbate for the longest time, were you so eager to get him in your pants, nothing prepared you for when he pulled down his underwear.

And now you understood why he wanted to prepare you.

When he pulled them down, his cock shot right up and bounced a little bit before it was like it was staring right at you. You gulp. Because that’s all you could do. And you didn’t even want to look at Law in the eye because you know he was gonna give you some smug and shitty smirk. Like a hypnosis, you get in position and spread your legs further.

“You ready?” He puts one arm next to your head and crouches down a little bit, you can’t even speak. You just hum. You’re expecting him to get it over with, but now he’s just stroking your slit with that absolute beast, “You sure you’re ready?” And now you’re forced to look away from the heavenly scene and into his dumb and beautiful eyes.

“W-What was I saying for like the past 10 minutes? Put it in!” He only chuckles at how you jump at him, demanding him like you have any control. So he slides it in, head only. With your hand on his bicep, digging nails as you’re squeezing him both down there and with your hand that looks for some kind of help in his arm.

He removes his hand that pushes his cock inside and rests in on your chin to bring your eyes up to him, the action was so gentle it could’ve made you forget what was just going down. “Just look at me.” It makes your heart flutter.

And while you do, you feel so much better about the monster that’s sliding into you inch by inch. You furrow your eyebrows at him and chant his name like some sort of ritual. He’s almost all the way in, and the beads of tears in the corner of your eyes make him twitch inside of you with a groan. He looks at you like you hold the answer the all of his problems, like he just wants to be here with you only, and that’s exactly what it was. Like he’d pass away peacefully if it meant he passed away in between your legs.

Once he bottoms out, he stays there a little bit. He gives your lips a quick kiss before he moves into you, elbows on each side of your head while his hands are balled up into fists, your hands are snug around his neck while your legs wrap tightly around him. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, and he mentally curses at himself for not removing your bra so that he could see your tits jump freely. You’re on a different planet at this point, nothing has ever felt better. You look into his eyes, then down at what’s connecting you and you swear you could cum right there.

“‘F-Feels… so… good. Hah…” his thrusts find a comfortable pace now, “I feel full and good. Thank yoooouuummmm!”

And this is what you had been reduced to, thanking him for fucking you.

“Such a fuckin’ slut. Maybe I should keep you all to myself. For good.” His thrusts pick up a little bit now, “Straw Hat’s gonna have to fight me for this.” You whine in response. It took pretty quick for you to start to get cock-drunk off of him. He didn’t take you for the overly sensitive type but here you were, begging him and thanking him for some dick.

He would so use that against you later.

He kisses you again, and he’s settled into you a whole lot more. The position changed a little for his body to be closer to yours, and almost in an instant does your skin start slapping against each other. You were a moaning mess, the new position held so much intimacy and so much of him was on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Don’t stop. I’m almost there, I need it. Need it so bad. Let me have it!”

He gets a little slower as support for what he says next, “Beg a little more.”

“Please, Law! Please! I need you to make me cum! Please, make me cum. Please please please…” and they don’t stop. It looks like his fantasies came to life after all.

He lets you have it because—once again—he needs it just as much as you do, the last few thrusts come a little more quick-paced and it’s hitting you in the exact spot you needed to let yourself unfold.

With a loud call to his name, you cum. You came so hard you saw stars. And he just kept fucking you through it.“Fuck. M’Gonna f-fill you up.” He grunts and groans in an effort to reach his own moment of bliss and it’s quicker to hit him than he can comprehend, he cums inside of you and shivers a little bit in doing so, finding comfort in the crook of your neck in an effort to cover up how vulnerable he felt in that moment. No women could ever compare. He was a mess for it.

As for his fill inside of you, he’d just use his devil-fruit power to remove it, but right now he absolutely relished in the way it so effortlessly leaked out of you.

You were his, officially.

Collecting his own self, he pushes his body off of you, “You’re not going cold on me, are you?” He gets up off of the comfortable position once again, peering down at your fucked-out state.

“Would you give me a second? I thought you fucked me into another dimension for like half a minute.” You huff. He gives you your time while you catch your breath, he’s rubbing circles on each side of your hips to help alleviate the strain—well that’s the doctor for you. He’ll fuck you into the mattress and then help your muscles de-stress. You couldn’t deny the gentleness and how kind the gesture was and you soften up a bit.

Welp, so much for being cute, because his next words catch you a bit off guard during the tender moment, “Get on your hands and knees when you’re ready.”

But you’re up hilariously quick anyway. And he’s already half hard from waiting for you. Your figure from the back was something he’d think back on for many nights, but getting to see your face was beyond compare.

You whimper at his slow pace, “I’m ready, c’mon!” You comedically and desperately wiggle your ass in front of him, he wants to laugh but it was really fucking sexy, the way you yearned for him, and he holds your hip with one hand, lining himself up once again. The hard part wasn’t so difficult this time around, and he pushes himself inside of you a little too eagerly, almost giving away his own very need. He starts to thrust into you again, and being inside of you was like heaven on earth. Though it wasn’t even 2 minutes that he was fucking you before, he was sensitive this time around, and he had to go slower to start.

“Fuck… that feels so good.” You hum a moan in a little more than approval. He’s sliding more of it into you, watching how his cock disappears inside.

The best thing about this position is how you wouldn’t be able to see his face, how pussy-whipped he looked. If he went any faster he could cum, so he needed to start slow.

You were far past the sensual and slowness. You needed it fast and hard. “Law, go faster!”

He trusts himself enough to be a little bolder in what he says now that you can’t see his face. “Don’t call me by my name. What do you call me in this room? On this ship?” Very assertive with his proclamation. But he can feel your hesitance.

He smacks your ass, and you jump a bit, clenching around him very tightly. “I said, what do you call me?”

“C-Captain, please… please go faster.”

He stops. And he swears he might be torturing his own self more.

If it meant for how much you begged and whined for it, though, he wasn’t so mad.

“If you want to go faster so bad, fuck me yourself.”

You almost want to cry from how brutal he sounded, but the vulgarity of his words makes you clench around him again. And so, you start to thrust back into him, fucking him while he watched you.

With the first few thrusts you’re already clutching the sheets below you, and it’s taking more power than you thought it would. You can’t bring yourself to stop, though. The way it felt, it was too good.

“How does it feel?”

“S-So good, Cap.” Your eyes rolled into your skull.

“You gonna make your captain cum?”

“Mhhmm~”

With a breathy voice he says, “Guess this is my reward for taking such good care of you, huh? All paid off. I don’t usually get this special treatment from my usual patients.”

“I’m n-not a usual… patient.” You hardly breathe out.

He grips both sides of your hips to make you stop in your movement and he shuffles a bit, not long after is he asking you, “Are you gonna be good from now on?”. You say yes, a thousand times over. He moves like he did before, only just picking up his thrusts quicker and quicker. The sound of his skin meeting yours makes its return only louder. “Yeah, guess you’re right. Couldn’t possibly be. You’re too special. Made just for me.”

“Yes *thrust* Captain! *thrust*”

His leg is raised to the side to get a better angle into your cunt and he feels a second orgasm quickly approaching. He’s so sweaty, drenched. His hair clings onto his forehead and his hands can barely take grip on your skin anymore. Fuck, he moans. He’s getting dizzy now. This is the best he’s felt in a while.

You, on the other hand, have your face pressed in the sheets with your orgasm on quick approach. You’re sensitive, too sensitive. And you cum with a loud whine, all your liquids spraying onto him like it was comical. He came not so far after you, with his head falling back and a breathy moan.

You both try to catch your breaths before he fell on top of you. He kissed your shoulder as his own little thank you and rolled over on the very much drenched mattress. You lay on top of him while your whole body shook and he quickly wraps his arm around your figure.

You two sit in a comfortable silence to try catching your breaths and try pacing yourselves so you could relax. And surprisingly, Law is the first to speak.

And you wish he kept quiet.

“Never pinned you for the jealous type.”

“Oh would you quit it already? You’re so good at ruining soft moments!” You push him lightly, you roll over on the other side of the mattress and he immediately grabs you back. He was so annoying.

If he asked you to stay with him, would you have done it? No, that was wishful thinking. He’s seen with his own very eyes how much Straw Hat loved you. This is the thing he dread the most about this, he shouldn’t have done it. He brought you into his own sick and dark fantasy, he came inside of you, for fucks sake. It was too intimate. It was wishful thinking on his end, all of it.

He sighs, looking up at the ceiling and absentmindedly giving your body a squeeze.

“‘This a one time thing?” He asks to try and ground himself.

He doesn’t know what to make of the situation, because it was beyond amazing. It was phenomenal. And it was with someone special. He didn’t want to admit it but, you were special to him and it hurt to think that you’d likely leave him and not see him for a long time coming.

But you’re quick, “No, better not be!” You get up and sit on the bed, and he doesn’t understand how you’re up. He should be the one to get up. “Unless you declare me your enemy once I leave.” Your fingers are dancing on his chest, tracing the tattoos on his body, “But I’m fine with being with you like this. It can be our little secret anytime we see each other. Especially that captain thing, you freak.”

He laughs, and your words do bring him that relief. He pulls you by your arm for a tender kiss, something you were a bit surprised by.

Law was fine with it, he’d take what he can get for now, as long it meant he could be with you.

“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.

“Bye, guys! Stay safe!”

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

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

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

 The seconds ticked.

 You held your breath.

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

 The world quiet, the view serene.

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

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

 “They all left, yes, yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Oh.

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

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

 Then the second.

 Third.

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

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

  You were watching Sanji undress.

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

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

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

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

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

 Say something before—

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

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

 Brightening the room, hitching your breath.

Sanji... he was beautiful.

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

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

 Peaceful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck... ”

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

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

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

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

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

  Shit, shit, shit!

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

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

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

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

 Oh god, oh god.

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

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

  You were a mess.

 You had to stop, turn away— breathe.

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

 Leave, you had to leave.

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

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

 Leave, just leave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Sanji asked you not to leave.

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

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

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

  “No! I-I didn’t mean to—”

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

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

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

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

 “Do you?”

 “Y-yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “When I undress?”

“God!—”

 “When I rub my cock?”

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

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

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

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

 Pretty. Shimmering waters.

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

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

  “Is there any chance that thing being me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you breathed, “you.”

 “Please…again..”

“Sanji—”

 “mmhh..”

“—fuck… you.”

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

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

 You admired that.

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

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

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

“Can I masturbate to you?”

 “Huh?”

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

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

 To watch him. Openly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 You were inside.

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

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

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

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

 “Fuck,” his hands fumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “I wasn’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Sh-it, like this?”

“Good boy.”

 He moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Oh, in a heartbeat.”

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

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

 Your chest tightened hearing the affection hidden beneath his moans.

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

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

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

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

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

 Sanji was too erratic. Too frenetic.

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

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

 At your mercy, your control.

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

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

  “Stop.”

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

 His jaw ticked. Veins pulsed.

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

 “Breathe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Sanji…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you’re shaking.”

 He was.

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

 “More, please..”

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

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

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

 “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 His expression glowed. “R-really?”

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

 “I—”

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

 Before he could reply, Sanji tasted heaven.

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

 Or …

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

“On your knees.”

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

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

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

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

 “Take off my shoes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Fuck.

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

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

 “You would stop, just like that?”

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

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

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

“Ahh-uhh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  See how far you could bend him before he snapped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Was he?

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

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

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

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

 What he always wanted.

 “Are… are you sure?”

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

  “Sanji-kun, touch me.”

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

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

Use you?

His brows knitted. That didn’t sound right.

Use.

 Use.

Use?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Making you cry his name, making you wet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “What is it?”

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

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

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

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

 To yours and the raunchy sounds that swirled in between.

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

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

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

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

 “Ye-yea?”

“Yes, hun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His stomach flipped excitedly.

 “—Maybe we’ll play again.”

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

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

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

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

 “Promise we’ll do this again?”

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

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

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

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

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

 “LUFFY N-NO THAT—”

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

You sigh, but it’s not a sad sigh, just… tired.

Luffy’s jacket hangs off your shoulders, far too big, smelling faintly of salt and him. He’d dropped it on you earlier without a word, like he always did. Just something that happened now, the way you always saved the last bite of your food for him, or how he tucked your hair behind your ear when you weren’t paying attention.

“Oi! You’re making a weird face!”

You jump a little, turning around fast.

Luffy’s standing behind you, hands on his hips, grinning like he knows something you don’t. Which he usually does.

“I am not” you say.

“You are” he says “That’s your thinking-too-much face. I don’t like that one.”

You squint at him “You don’t like my face?”

Luffy laughs and walks up, grabbing your hand “Nah. I like your laughing face way better.”

Your heart does that stupid flip again. Luffy is always like this… saying small, silly things that hit you like cannonballs. You wonder if he even realizes what they do to you, or if he just lives like this, naturally, saying the exact thing you need to hear without trying.

He tugs your arm “Come eat meat with me.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be when you see Sanji’s new meatball thing. He said he made it just for me. That means it’s good.”

You don’t want to argue, so you follow him. His hand stays in yours as you walk. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even think about it, like holding your hand is the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe it is. Maybe with him, all the strange, lovely things you thought you'd never have just… are.

The kitchen is loud. Usopp and Chopper are arguing about who can eat more. Sanji is yelling at Zoro to stop drinking straight from the soup pot. Nami rolls her eyes at everything. And through it all, Luffy’s hand stays in yours until he lets go just to sit.

Luffy sits down at the table and pats the spot next to him “Here. Sit.”

You sit.

Sanji brings over a plate with a small mountain of meatballs.

“Special recipe” he says, setting it down.

“Only for idiots who eat too fast and the people dumb enough to love them.”

“Yay!” Luffy cheers “That’s me!”

You raise an eyebrow at Sanji. He just smirks and walks off.

Luffy hands you a meatball. You take it. You chew slowly. He doesn’t. He shovels in three at once and nearly chokes. You thump his back.

“Maybe you shouldn’t eat too fast” you say.

“Too good,” he says between bites “Can’t stop.”

You laugh a little. He grins at you with his mouth full, face messy, eyes shining.

And somehow, in that moment, you feel more at home than you’ve ever felt on land. You bump your foot lightly against his under the table and don’t pull it away. He nudges back without missing a beat.

Later, when everyone’s tired and full, and the stars are peeking out, Luffy sits on the deck with you again. He lies down and folds his arms behind his head.

“Did you still have the weird face?”

“No” you say softly.

“Good.”

There’s a pause. The wind is gentle tonight. Your fingers inch toward his on the wooden deck until they touch. He doesn’t say anything, just shifts his pinky so it loops around yours.

You look at him and wonder if he knows. If he knows how much he saved you. If he knows that before this ship, before him, life felt so small.

“You’re thinking again” he says without opening his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be your captain forever, y’know.”

You blink “What?”

Luffy opens one eye and smiles at you.

“Even if you leave the crew. Even if you fly away like a bird. I’ll still be your captain. Okay?”

Your throat feels tight. You don’t say anything. You just nod and lie down next to him.

The stars look different from here. Brighter. Bigger.

Just like everything since you met him.

That night you have a nightmare... you often dream of fire.

It’s not real, not anymore. But the smoke curls around your chest when you wake up, and your heart races like you’re still running.

You sit up fast, hand on your chest. You're sweating.

The bed is warm beside you, a tangle of blankets and the faint imprint of Luffy’s sleeping form. He must’ve gone when he felt you stir.

Outside, the sea is calm. The ship creaks gently like it’s breathing.

You step outside the bedroom, careful not to wake anyone. The deck is dark, quiet. The kind of quiet that feels too loud when you’re carrying a storm inside.

You lean on the railing, gripping it hard. Trying to stop your hands from shaking.

You don’t hear Luffy approach. You never do.

“Bad dream?” he says softly.

You nod.

He doesn’t ask more. He just sits beside you on the wooden deck, cross-legged like a kid.

You look at him. He’s staring out at the ocean.

You whisper, “I wasn’t a good person before this. I did some things... things I can’t forget.”

Luffy shrugs “That’s okay.”

You blink “Okay?”

“You’re good now.”

Your breath catches “But—”

“I don’t care what you did. I care what you do now. You protect people. You laugh with us. You love this ship.”

You bite your lip “Sometimes I think I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Luffy’s head tilts “Why?”

“Because I hurt people. I made bad choices.”

He frowns, serious now “Everyone hurts people. Even me. You ever see me not punch someone?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” he says “Because I’m the captain?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

He scoots closer, his leg bumping yours “Listen. I don’t pick people because they’re perfect. I pick people who need a place. You needed one. So I gave you mine.”

Your eyes sting.

“And if you’re scared sometimes... that’s fine. I’ll be scared with you.”

You let out a shaky laugh “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Luffy grins “Thanks.”

Then he does something rare.

He reaches out and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm and a little awkward, his chin bumps your shoulder, but his arms are strong. Solid.

Safe.

You lean into him, just for a second. Just long enough to feel like maybe… maybe you can breathe again.

“I still got you,” he says “No matter what.”

The next morning, you’re quiet at breakfast.

Not sad, just full in a way that makes your chest feel warm. Luffy sits beside you like always, stealing half your toast without asking.

You don’t stop him. You just shake your head like you always do and let your knee rest against his under the table.

“Oi, Luffy, chew!” Sanji shouts from the stove “Don’t scare them off with your lizard face.”

Luffy puffs out his cheeks “I am chewing!”

You shake your head “Barely.”

He grins at you with crumbs on his lips “You finally smiled.”

“Huh?”

“You smiled at me,” he says, like it’s some great discovery “I like that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up.

Chopper climbs onto the bench next to you “You look different today,” he says thoughtfully “Lighter.”

“Maybe you finally slept” Nami adds, sipping her coffee.

“Maybe someone got a good hug last night...” Usopp says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nearly choke on your juice.

Luffy doesn’t react “I give good hugs.”

Zoro snorts from across the table “Not with those rubbery arms.”

You stare down at your plate, smiling to yourself.

Later, you’re helping Robin tie down books in the library when Luffy finds you again. He peeks in like a kid looking for snacks.

“There you are!” he says “Come with me.”

You follow him without asking where. That’s just how it is with Luffy. You trust him.

He takes you to the upper deck where it’s quieter. The sea stretches out endlessly, sky blue and soft.

He sits on the edge and pats the spot next to him. You sit.

“I was thinking,” he says, picking at the brim of his hat “About last night.”

You look at him, curious.

“You said you didn’t deserve to be happy.”

Your chest tightens again.

He leans back on his hands “But you look happy now.”

You nod slowly “I am.”

He grins “Told you. I’m a good captain.”

You laugh a little “You are.”

Then, softly, you say it “This happiness I have right now… it was gained simply by listening to you and following your lead.”

Luffy tilts his head, eyes wide and bright “Really?”

You nod “You gave me a place. You didn’t even know me, and you still let me stay.”

“I knew enough,” he says “You were lost. I don’t leave lost people behind.”

You look down, fiddling with the seam of your shirt “I think I was scared to feel like this. Like I belong.”

“You do.”

You glance up. His face is open, honest—Luffy in his rare, still moments.

“You really think I belong here?” you whisper.

He nods “You belong with me.”

Your breath catches.

Not “with the crew”.

Not “on the ship”.

With him.

── .✦ Law:

The storm isn’t just outside.

It’s in the way Law walks the deck—slow, sharp steps, as if each one might cut the wood beneath his feet.

You watch from where you sit near the stairs, arms tucked around your knees. He hasn’t spoken in hours.

The sky above is black. Thunder grumbles like it’s trying to decide if it wants to scream.

He doesn’t flinch.

“Go inside” he says suddenly, without looking at you.

You stay where you are.

“I said—”

“I heard you.”

Silence again.

Then: “The wind’s picking up.”

“I’m fine.”

He turns his head just enough to glance at you, eyes narrowing “You’re stubborn.”

You shrug “You’re angry.”

“I’m thinking.”

“Loudly.”

He exhales through his nose—one of those short, sharp sounds that’s not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

You unfold your legs and stand, walking slowly until you’re beside him. Close, but not touching.

Close enough to feel the heat of him. Close enough that if you leaned in just slightly, your shoulder would brush his. But you don’t. Not yet.

“Is it about the intel?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about the crew.”

“No.”

“Then it’s about you.”

He says nothing.

The waves crash hard against the hull. Somewhere below deck, Bepo is probably pacing, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass.

But Law… Law doesn’t wait for anything. He carries storms inside him and tries to outpace them with silence.

You speak softly “Be at ease.”

He turns to look at you now, not annoyed, just… tired.

Your hand drifts to his arm, fingers barely grazing the fabric of his sleeve. You step in, gently, like approaching a wild thing. Like you’ve done this before—offering comfort without taking anything away.

“Let me watch your back now,” you continue, voice steady “My captain.”

His eyes search your face like he’s reading something in a language he forgot long ago.

“I don’t need—”

“I know.”

You take a step closer, your fingers brushing his coat sleeve.

“I’m not offering because you need it. I’m offering because you deserve it.”

His jaw tightens.

You shift your hand just enough to slide your fingers into his, letting them rest there—quiet and warm.

“Someone has to carry the weight when you can’t,” you add “Let it be me, even if it’s just tonight.”

For a long time, he doesn’t respond.

Then finally, he murmurs, “You talk too much.”

You smile “And yet you’re still listening.”

He doesn’t smile back but his shoulders drop, just slightly. And when the next gust of wind hits, he doesn’t flinch.

Because you’re there.

Because someone’s finally watching his back.

You lean in and press a kiss to his shoulder, not dramatic, just grounding. A promise. You feel him shift slightly toward you, almost imperceptibly.

The storm passes, but the cold stays.

You and Law sit under the overhang near the helm, out of the rain but not the wind. The ship creaks with each wave, but now it’s calmer. The kind of quiet that always feels like something is waiting.

He hasn’t spoken since you told him you’d watch his back.

But he’s still here.

You’re still here.

And that’s something.

You let your head rest lightly against his shoulder. His arm doesn’t move for a long moment, then slowly, tentatively, he curls it behind you, just enough that your bodies lean into one another.

“I thought you’d leave” he says at last, voice low.

You glance at him “When?”

“After Dressrosa. After the Doflamingo fight. Most people would’ve.”

“I’m not most people.”

He makes a soft sound in his throat, something between agreement and disbelief.

Then he says it.

“I didn’t expect you to stay this long.”

You blink “Did you want me to go?”

“No” he says too quickly. Then quieter “I just thought you would.”

You wrap your arms around your knees, watching the wet deck glisten under the moonlight.

“People leave you a lot, don’t they?”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t need him to.

You reach over and take his hand again, threading your fingers through his with the same steady warmth you always give him. Your thumb traces soft circles over the back of his hand.

You take a slow breath and shift to face him more fully.

“You don’t always have to be the one doing the saving, Law.”

His head tilts, just slightly.

You lean forward but not too close, just enough to be clear.

“I’ll protect you now.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You don’t move it.

He’s staring at you like he doesn’t understand the words. Like no one’s ever said them to him before and meant it.

“You think I need protection?” he asks, but there’s no bite in it. No challenge.

You smile “I think you’re tired of carrying everything alone.”

For a second, just a second, his expression softens.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like in the stories.

But his eyes lose that sharp edge.

He leans back against the wood behind him, shoulders dropping just a bit more than before. As if, maybe, he’s letting the idea settle.

Letting you settle.

You shift closer again and kiss his cheek, soft and slow, just near the corner of his mouth. He closes his eyes like he’s soaking in the quiet.

You don’t push it. You just sit with him, in the silence, your presence a quiet promise:

He’s not alone anymore.

The cold settles around you both like a second skin, but here, pressed close, there’s a different kind of warmth.

You lean into him slowly, head resting against his chest this time, right where you can hear his heartbeat. At first, he’s stiff. Not resisting, but still wired tight, like his body doesn’t quite remember how to relax.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pulling him into a soft, secure hold.

He lets out a breath against your hair. It’s quiet. Almost disbelieving.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you murmur into his coat “Not with me.”

You feel it when something in him finally begins to loosen. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But like a knot unspooling deep inside.

His hand comes up, hesitant at first, then rests on the back of your head. His fingers thread gently into your hair, and you close your eyes at the feeling.

He doesn’t speak.

You tilt your face up toward him.

His gaze meets yours, wary, but no longer guarded. He’s let you in. At least a little. Enough.

You smile softly “Come here.”

And before he can argue, before he can overthink it, you press your lips to his.

One kiss.

Then another. Then another.

Soft and fast, like raindrops. Like a flurry of promises falling out of you all at once, impossible to hold back.

You kiss the corner of his mouth, his top lip, the edge of his jaw, then back to his mouth again.

With each kiss, you whisper:

“I will protect you now”

“My boss”

“My leader”

“My hero”

“My captain”

“My love.”

And something in him just… gives.

His breath hitches. His hands tighten around you, not pulling you away, but drawing you in. Letting you have him like this.

He exhales like surrender. His voice is barely above a whisper.

“…Fine. Do whatever you want.”

You press your forehead to his, smiling against his skin.

“I already am.”

And he doesn’t push you away. He doesn’t retreat behind silence.

He stays.

Wrapped up in your arms. Your warmth. Your words. Your kisses.

For once, Law lets himself be held.

── .✦ Shanks:

The first time you see him, it’s not on purpose.

You’re in a quiet port town, just passing through. Hiding, really. The kind of hiding that doesn’t involve running, it just means standing still long enough for the world to forget you.

Then the bar door opens.

And he walks in like he owns the ocean.

Red hair. Wide grin. A laugh that fills the room before he even speaks.

“Oi, Benn! I told you I could smell meat from a mile off!”

You glance up once and then away. You know who he is. Of course you do. Red-Haired Shanks. One of the Four Emperors. A name that carries storms.

You sip your drink and try not to look again.

It doesn’t work.

He notices.

You end up at the same table, somehow. He’s charming like that, pulls people in like the tide.

“What’s your story?” he asks casually, swirling his drink.

You shake your head “No story.”

“Everyone has one.”

“Not me.”

He smiles “You’re a terrible liar.”

You laugh despite yourself. It’s small. But he hears it.

“You’ve been drifting,” he says “I can tell.”

You pause “That obvious?”

He shrugs “Only to someone who’s done the same.”

Later, you’re sitting with him by the docks, the sea stretching out like a painting. He’s quieter now. Thoughtful.

You speak without meaning to.

“On a sea called loneliness… I’d come to lose my way.”

He turns toward you slowly, listening.

“My vision was dark. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t even know what I was looking for.”

Shanks doesn’t interrupt.

“But a single sailboat came close.”

He smiles faintly.

“And that happy ending became our story.”

He chuckles under his breath “You’re poetic when you’ve had rum.”

You smile, but it doesn’t fade.

“You’re the first person who didn’t ask me to explain why I left. Or who I used to be.”

“I don’t care who you were,” he says gently “Only who you are when you’re with me.”

The sea breeze lifts your hair. His eyes flick to it, and stay there a moment too long.

You don’t speak again for a while. There’s no need.

Two drifters. One sailboat. And, maybe, the start of something that doesn’t have to end in loneliness.

Years Later

The sun hangs low, golden and lazy, casting soft light across the deck of the Red Force.

Shanks is half-asleep in a chair near the railing, hat pulled down over his eyes. You’re sitting not far, feet propped up, notebook balanced on your knee. You don’t write often, at least not like this, but today feels different.

You glance at him. He’s relaxed, arms crossed loosely, the breeze playing with the hem of his coat.

Years ago, he was chaos walking. A whirlwind with a smile.

Now?

He’s still chaos. But he’s yours.

You smile and press your pen to the page.

“On a sea called L-O-V-E,

The sunlight dazzles as it reflects upon the water.

On that sailboat over there, are two people—

Just a captain and a sailor.

And that happy ending is our story.”

You pause.

Then close the notebook, leave it on the small table beside him, and go below deck. You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

Later, just before dinner, he finds you in the galley. One arm wraps lazily around your waist from behind, pulling you in.

“I read what you wrote” he murmurs near your ear.

“Oh?”

“It was missing one thing.”

You raise a brow, glancing back at him “Yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours “The part where the sailor becomes captain of the captain.”

You laugh, soft and full.

“In your dreams maybe” you tease.

“In our story” he corrects, grinning.

You shake your head and kiss him anyway.

It’s meant to be quick, teasing, familiar.

But Shanks doesn’t let go. His hand cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw as he kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. Like he’s been waiting all day for this one quiet moment.

You melt into him. The galley fades, the ship fades, even the sea feels quieter.

When you finally pull apart, your forehead rests against his. Neither of you speaks right away. You don’t need to.

He closes his eye, brushing his nose against yours “You still take my breath away, you know that?”

You smile against his lips “Even when I’m just trying to steal your coat?”

“Especially then.”

He leans back, just enough to reach into his coat pocket and pulls out something small, wrapped in an old cloth. He unwraps it with care, revealing a silver ring etched with faint waves.

“Was gonna wait,” he says softly, “but then I read what you wrote.”

Your breath catches.

“It’s not a proposal, not exactly,” he continues, “but it’s a promise. That whatever seas we sail, whatever storm hits… I’m yours. No matter what.”

You stare at the ring, heart swelling in your chest “Shanks…”

He slides it onto your finger, his touch feather-light “You don’t need to wear it if you don’t want. I just... I just wanted you to have something that says what I can’t always say.”

You take his hand in yours, kissing his knuckles “You already say it. Every time you look at me like I’m not just part of your crew, but like I'm part of you.”

He chuckles, a little unsteady “You are.”

The kiss you give him now isn’t playful. It’s reverent. Grateful. Fierce and fragile all at once.

Afterward, you whisper, “My captain. My anchor.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your forehead, murmuring between each one:

“My light. My home. My heart.”

Later, beneath a sky dusted with stars, you lie curled in the hammock together—his coat draped over both your shoulders, his hand resting over yours, thumb absently brushing the ring now on your finger.

He presses a kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I used to chase the horizon. But then I found you.”

You smile into his chest.

“I’ll chase it with you,” you say softly “As long as you want.”

He holds you tighter.

“Forever sounds good to me.”

And with the steady lull of the sea beneath you and the warmth of him around you, you sleep in the safest place you’ve ever known.

── .✦ Kid:

The ship is on fire.

Well, not literally. But that’s what it feels like after the ambush.

Scorched sails. Blood on the deck. Your ribs ache, bruised or maybe cracked, and Killer’s bleeding from his arm, trying to stop Heat from collapsing.

Kid is in the middle of it all, rage and metal, torn coat, growling orders no one can follow fast enough.

“Damn it, where’s WIRE?!”

“Dead if we don’t patch him now!” you shout back, dragging your half-burned jacket off to wrap someone else’s wound.

He doesn’t answer. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes scanning everything like he’s trying to hold the whole crew together with nothing but anger and magnets.

But you’re not afraid.

You’ve seen him like this before. Broken knuckles. Cracked teeth. And still standing. Still fighting.

Still trying.

He doesn’t realize you’re next to him until your hand grabs his shoulder.

“Kid.”

He glances at you, blood across his cheek, chest rising like a storm trying not to explode.

“We’re not dead,” you say “We’re still here.”

He scoffs “Barely.”

You shake your head “You always think surviving means losing.”

“Because it is,” he snarls “Every fight takes something from us.”

“Now just breath” you snap, stepping closer “Look at me.”

His eyes go wide.

You don’t blink.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you ‘til the end of my days.”

The words hit the air like thunder, loud, real, and permanent.

You lift your chin with your biggest smile.

“YES, SIR.”

Something shifts in his face, not softness, not yet. But a crack. A flicker. The kind of look someone gets when they realize they’re not alone.

His voice is low.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You grin.

“I was.”

“And now?”

“I’m yours.”

And for once, Kid doesn’t argue.

He just takes your hand, calloused and shaking, and holds on like it might be the only thing left that doesn’t burn.

The ship’s quiet now.

Not peaceful but quiet. The kind of silence that settles after screaming, after gunfire, after the medics say “He’s gonna make it” and you finally let yourself breathe.

You check on everyone first. Heat’s stable. Killer’s stitches are clean. Wire’s conscious.

Only after you’ve made sure the others are resting you walk down the hall to his door.

It’s half open.

You knock once anyway.

“…It’s open” Kid’s voice grunts from inside.

You step in.

He’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, shirt off, fresh bandages wrapping his torso and arm. His metal hand is still twitching from leftover stress—little sparks crackling at the edges.

He doesn’t look at you at first.

But he doesn’t tell you to leave.

You shut the door and walk over, slow and calm, like approaching a wild thing that might still bite.

“You good?” you ask softly.

“Peachy” he mutters, eyes on the floor.

You eye the bruise on his jaw “Looks like it.”

He grunts, but says nothing more.

You stand there for a few long seconds. Then you exhale, toss your jacket to the side, and without asking, climb onto his lap, straddling him gently.

He stiffens a little “The hell are you—?”

“Shut up.”

He blinks. You settle your weight down, arms looped around his neck, foreheads almost touching.

His breath slows.

“…You’re gonna make me soft” he mutters, voice rough.

“You are soft” you say, brushing his hair back from his face.

He huffs “Right.”

You smile.

Then, quietly, honestly, you speak “My hero.”

His jaw tenses.

“My captain.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“Every day in this world feels like a battle… but you’re the captain who brought me to my victory.”

He looks up at that.

There’s a flicker of pain, disbelief, maybe guilt. He shakes his head.

“We lost.”

You don’t flinch. You bring a hand to his cheek, cupping it firmly.

“We all survived.” You lean in, eyes locked with his “Is it really a loss?”

The words hang between you, heavy and warm.

He stares at you for a long, long moment. Then finally, his voice low, almost gravel, he says “…No.”

You nod.

“Good,” you whisper “Now let me hold you until your stupid brain believes it.”

He lets you.

He even wraps his arms around you, tentative at first, then tight, like maybe you’re the anchor he didn’t know he needed until tonight.

You rest your forehead against his, feeling the tension bleeding out of him inch by inch.

His metal hand settles at your back, warmer than it should be. Steady.

“You always this bossy?” he grumbles, voice low but not annoyed. Almost… fond.

You grin “Only when you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I got impaled.”

“And still talking,” you say sweetly, brushing your nose against his “Clearly not fatal.”

A quiet sound escapes him, not quite a laugh, but really close. He pulls you closer, jaw pressing to your shoulder, voice muffled against your skin.

“You scare the hell out of me sometimes.”

You smile “Good. Keeps you on your toes.”

You shift slightly, just enough to ghost a kiss across his cheekbone. Then another, soft at the corner of his mouth. Then one more right on his lips, softer and a bit longer.

He exhales, like you’ve stolen all the fire out of him with that one simple touch.

You whisper against his mouth, “I meant what I said.”

“I know.”

“My hero.”

He groans lightly “You’re gonna kill me with that shit.”

“My captain” you say again, this time planting a kiss under his jaw.

“I’ll throw you overboard” he warns half-heartedly, pulling you tighter.

“No you won’t.”

He doesn’t argue.

You rest your head against his chest, listening to the slow thump of his heart, and he buries his fingers in your hair like it’s the only thing grounding him.

“You’re the only thing that makes this worth it” he mumbles after a while.

You grin again, eyes closed “Took you long enough.”

“Shut up.”

You don’t.

You just nuzzle in closer, his warmth surrounding you, his heartbeat steady against yours, and for once, even on a ship held together by bolts and scars and sheer, everything feels unshakably, impossibly whole.

── .✦ Ace:

The waves crash steady against the ship, stars scattered across the sea like someone spilled the sky.

You’re sitting on the edge of the deck, legs swinging over the side, the ocean dark beneath you. Most of the crew’s asleep. Only you and him are still awake.

Ace drops down beside you, barefoot and shirtless, sea breeze ruffling his hair. He smells like smoke and salt and freedom.

"You're gonna fall in one day" he says, nudging your leg with his knee.

You glance over "Then you better be ready to dive in after me. Oh wait, you can't even swim anymore!"

He grins "I'd like to see you try drowning."

You bump your shoulder into his "I did once, remember? Before you even formed this crew... That's how we met."

He goes quiet.

You weren’t joking.

Neither was he, when he dragged you back to the ship half-dead, coughing seawater, chest heaving as he yelled your name like it was the last thing keeping him afloat.

That was the first time he held you like something fragile.

And the first time you knew he’d never let go.

You look out at the sea again "You saved me."

"Hm?"

"Back then. And now. All the time, really."

He leans back on his hands "You act like I’m some hero."

You shake your head "No. You're not a hero."

He laughs "Gee, thanks."

You turn to him, steady “I'm your sailor. You're the captain. You saved me from drifting.”

He blinks. His grin fades, not in a bad way, just... softer. More real.

“I never saved anyone” he says after a second.

“You did, and I'm not talking about that time...” you whisper “You just don't realise it.”

He doesn’t speak, but you feel his hand brush yours, fingers grazing yours like he wants to hold on, but doesn’t know how.

So you do it first.

You intertwine your fingers with his, firm and warm.

“I didn’t follow you ‘cause you saved me that day” you murmur “I followed you ‘cause I finally felt seen.”

He swallows hard.

Then says your name... just your name, but it sounds like a promise.

Not grand. Not dramatic.

Just true.

And that’s all you ever needed.

Years Later

For once, everything’s quiet. No Marines, no missions. Just you, a sleepy harbor, and one very shirtless fire-user leaning against the rail with a half-eaten orange in hand.

You step outside, towel-drying your hair from the bath, and lean beside him.

He grins at you like always, like you’re his favorite sight in the world.

You smirk.

“Hey, Captain.”

Ace groans immediately, tossing the orange peel at your feet.

“You still call me that?” he says, exasperated “It’s been years since I stopped being a captain, Y/N. Drop it already…”

You shrug innocently “But it suits you.”

Before he can roll his eyes harder, you lean in and plant a quick, soft kiss on his lips.

Then whisper, just close enough for him to feel your breath “My boss. My leader. My hero. My captain.”

Ace exhales like you’ve just made his heart do a backflip, but he plays it cool... barely.

“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, gently pushing your face away with one hand “Can’t you just be a cute lover and call me… I don’t know, boyfriend? Honey? My love?”

You blink at him, lips twitching, then smirk.

“Alright, sure. How about... Flamey Hot Dumbass Supreme?”

He stares at you.

“...That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You grin wider “What? It’s affectionate.”

Ace covers his face with one hand, groaning “What was I even thinking that day I confessed to you and kissed you...”

You press a kiss to his cheek “That I was the only person who could make your life this fun.”

He huffs but he doesn’t argue.

He just pulls you closer, tucking you under his arm, and lets the sunset burn quietly around you both.

The laughter fades slowly.

Ace still has his arm around your shoulders, thumb brushing slow circles on your upper arm. You rest your head against his bare chest, listening to the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat.

The orange-sweet breeze brushes past. The sun’s dipped lower now, gold turning to pink.

He doesn’t speak for a long while.

And then softly, without teasing “You’ve been sitting next to me all this time…”

You glance up, and there’s something in his eyes that makes your chest squeeze.

“Yeah” you whisper “Where else would I go?”

Ace lets out a breath that almost sounds like disbelief. His fingers move up to touch your cheek, warm and careful.

“I was so busy back then. Fighting. Running. Trying to prove something. I didn’t even see it at first.”

“See what?”

“You” he says “Of course.”

You smile, nudging his nose with yours “Took you long enough.”

His other hand finds your waist, pulling you gently closer until your knees are nearly in his lap. His voice drops “I love you.”

You blink, heart thudding.

He’s said it before, during arguments, in bed, drunk off sake. But this time? This time it’s bare, and slow, and steady.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper against his lips:

“I love you too, firebrain.”

You’re both smiling into the kiss when—

“Yo.”

You freeze.

Ace groans out loud, forehead thudding against your shoulder as Marco’s voice cuts you.

You both turn, Ace’s hand still on your thigh, your face flushed, as Marco stands with a completely deadpan expression.

“Am I interrupting?”

Ace doesn’t even lift his head “You think?”

Marco shrugs “Well, you're not in your room, you know? That’s basically an invitation.”

You’re trying not to laugh as Ace flips him off without looking.

“Five minutes, Marco” you plead.

Marco holds up his hands, already walking off “Sure, sure. Just letting you know dinner’s ready... lovebirds.”

Ace groans again, shoving his face into your neck as you laugh harder.

“I swear I’m gonna set that pineapple on fire.”

“Sure you are, Captain.”

Being Sir Crocodile’s personal secretary obviously had its benefits. Traveling to all sorts of conferences alongside him, meeting important and influential people, and always feeling protected. You lived a more lavish life than the vast majority of Alabastans, and all it took was looking the other way when documents with a winged Jolly Roger appeared on his desk. But it had some major downfalls, too, like putting up with whatever the hell was going on between your boss and that blonde feathery freak. 

You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead. 

Fragrant and flashy perfume clashed with the thick and heady scent of an expensive cigar, overwhelming your senses and making you dizzy. Crocodile’s lengthy cock was buried deep in your throat. You choked and sputtered around it, trying your hardest to use your mouth well and please your boss. Doflamingo’s harsh thrusts into your pussy from behind were making it difficult.

Your wrists had long lost their strength to support you, so you were positioned on your knees and elbows. The dark-haired man comfortably reclined on a stack of plush pillows, his ring-covered hand resting on the crown of your head. Doflamingo gripped your hips hard and repeatedly slammed his enormous dick inside you, practically penetrating your womb. You didn’t have to see him to know that he was maniacally grinning. 

You were fully naked and on display for the two men (to be fair, the blonde was already half-naked when he entered the room). Their perfectly sculpted and scarred bodies were also completely bare, but somehow they both still had their coats on. You would have laughed at the absurdity if it didn’t remind you of their high status and how far below them you were. Or maybe it just was an unspoken challenge between them – first one to take theirs off loses.

They had already made you cum three times before they even got their dicks out. Under the guise of being a gracious host, Crocodile had allowed Doflamingo the honor of your first orgasm of the night. He had made you straddle his thigh and get yourself off by rubbing your bare cunt on his leather pants, bouncing his leg up and down and cackling sadistically at your humiliated expression. Then Crocodile had eaten you out as the other man fondled your tits, and then Doflamingo had strung you up until you couldn’t move an inch while they worked together to torture your pussy. They were each menaces on their own, but somehow sharing your body like this didn’t make their egos clash – they cooperated. It was only a matter of time until they figured out something kinky to do with Crocodile’s sand powers, and then you’d be truly fucked.

You were losing yourself in the salty taste of Crocodile’s cock, the thickness of it stretching your mouth almost painfully while your nose repeatedly brushed against his neatly groomed pubes. Slowly forcing your head up and down, never giving you more than a second to breathe. He was barely sweating, looking down at you with cold eyes as he puffed at the cigar hanging from his lips. A direct contrast to Doflamingo bullying your poor cunt and shoving your body forwards onto the other man’s lap with every thrust. 

A dry finger suddenly prodded at your asshole, causing you to choke around your boss’s cock. Crocodile clicked his tongue. “Two holes at once? You’re being greedy, Doffy.” His words were teasing, a wicked smirk on his scarred face while he continued ignoring your obvious protests. 

“You get to use her whenever you want. I think that’s pretty greedy.” The blonde frowned, continuing to insistently circle his fingertip around your rim. “Besides, I’m trying to do something nice for you. You can have her pussy, so I’ll take her ass.”

The dark-haired man exhaled a cloud of smoke. Without his hand holding you down, you pulled off of his dick with a lewd wet noise and spun your head to face Doflamingo. “W-wait… both… at the, ahh, same ti-ime…?” Your muddled mind tried to express your fear, knowing full well that neither of them would care. “C-can’t fit…”

“You don’t know that until you try,” Doflamingo replied with a twisted grin. Actually, he wasn’t sure why the three of you hadn’t tried it yet. Perhaps it had something to do with your size difference. Both men were unnaturally tall – the blonde often made fun of Crocodile for only being 8’4 – and their cocks were more than proportional. Each was longer than your forearm and practically matched the thickness. Your stomach felt close to bursting from just one. 

Looking to your boss for help, you silently pleaded for some hint of kindness inside the man. His cold glare and cruel smile granted you none.

At first, you had assumed Crocodile was the nicer of the two, that he felt some kind of sympathy and held regard for human life. You quickly realized in horror that they were two sides of the same sadistic coin. The same need for dominance, longing for powerful positions, and lack of hesitation to step on anyone below them for their own benefit. Sure, Doflamingo used his strings very inappropriately in the bedroom. But Crocodile had never taken off his hook during sex, resulting in a few ‘accidental’ fading cuts on your back and thighs. Doflamingo was very open about his madness, while the other kept it neatly buttoned up under silk dress shirts.

“Don’t worry,” Crocodile rubbed your cheek, feigning gentleness, before saying, “We’ll make them fit.”

You gulped, feeling very much like prey caught in a fatal trap.

Doflamingo stopped his thrusts with his cock deep inside you and sucked his pointer and middle fingers in his mouth, coating them with enough spit to not rip your hole. He would never be generous enough to use actual lube. 

He snickered when he caught Crocodile watching his movements and swirled his tongue teasingly around his digits. “Enjoying the view, baby?”

“I’m enjoying a break from that ridiculous smile of yours.” The other man replied smoothly. “Maybe I’ll use my fingers to shut you up the next time you say something irritating.”

“Your fingers are too rough,” the blonde pouted and shoved a long finger inside your asshole in one go, making you cry out and clench your fists. Neither man acknowledged your pained reaction, though you felt Doflamingo’s cock twitch excitedly inside you. “My mouth feels all sandy afterwards.”

Crocodile smirked to himself — he controlled every grain of sand in his body, so any bits left behind in Doflamingo’s mouth (or in his clothes, or the crevices of his body) was intentional. His gaze flickered down to you, grasping the base of his cock and timidly licking at his tip. “You can do better than that, slut.” You instantly swallowed it halfway, not daring to upset your boss.

The dark haired man let out a content sigh as he watched the beautiful scene in front of him. Your back glistened with a thin sheen of sweat and a giant red Doffy-shaped handprint still burned on your ass. The blonde’s pace had slowed down slightly so he could focus on preparing your asshole with no gentleness whatsoever. He used two digits to spread your hole wide, then spat directly inside it. You whimpered at the filthy feeling, sending pleasant vibrations through Crocodile’s cock. 

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Doflamingo swore, watching his saliva disappear inside you. “What a good little whore.” You unconsciously wiggled your hips at his praise. 

The more he pushed and prodded deep inside you, the harder it was to focus on pleasuring the cock in your mouth. Wordlessly, Crocodile placed his hook on the back of your neck, the sharp edge dangerously close to your throat. The message was clear – you immediately got to work, cheeks hollowing and sloppily drooling around his dick. 

Doflamingo nodded his chin at the heavy gold object. “You ever finger anyone with that glorified fish hook?” 

Your entire body went cold. Hopefully that wasn’t a suggestion.

“No, but you can be the first to try it out.” 

“Aww, Croc, you’re making me blush.” He didn’t seem even a tiny bit flustered.

Ignoring you was part of their sick game. Making you feel so incredibly small and unimportant. Nothing but a fleshlight for two of the most powerful men in the world to share while they bickered among themselves. 

Trying to regain their focus, you clenched your holes and moaned loudly. “Shh, darling,” Crocodile cooed mockingly. “The adults are talking.”

You hated how much that humiliation turned you on and made your core ache with need. 

“Well, she seems about ready.” Doflamingo chuckled, unceremoniously pulling out of your swollen pussy, his cock angry and red and shining with your juices. You fought to keep your lower half from collapsing to the bed. “How do you wanna do this?”

You looked up at Crocodile questioningly, not daring to take his dick out of your mouth yet. Your boss gently tugged at your hair and you raised your head, coughing and sputtering for air. You suddenly felt a shameful sense of emptiness – you missed having your holes stuffed full.

He stroked the back of your head as if you were his pet. “Any ideas, doll?”

It was the first time all night that they asked for your opinion, that you weren’t passively taking every bit of pleasure and pain that they graciously gave you. You gulped nervously, looking between both men. Doflamingo seemed especially excited to hear you pick your poison. 

“M-maybe… I could… sit in your laps?” You replied timidly, unsure if your input even mattered. 

“Is that a question or an answer?” Crocodile raised an eyebrow.

As calm and collected as both men seemed, you could tell they were growing impatient. Their cocks dripped precum and subtly twitched with need. You were desperate for stimulation, too, so you steeled your hazy mind and nodded resolutely. “I want to sit in your laps. Feel you both so deep inside me. I… I might go crazy if you don’t fuck me.” You turned to Doflamingo, batted your eyes innocently, and added, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

The blonde threw his head back and moaned exaggeratedly. “Fuck, baby, you’re straight out of my wet dreams. Why don’t you visit Dressrosa sometime?”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Crocodile gave the man a hard glare, helping your shaky body into a sitting position. “She’s mine. The best secretary I’ve had in years.”

Doflamingo cackled. “I forgot she’s your fucking employee! There’s no way you two actually get any work done. I bet I can open any file cabinet in your office and find cum stains on those papers.”

“Open anything in my office and I’ll throw you in my Sea Prism Stone cell.”

You rolled your eyes as you maneuvered yourself into Crocodile’s lap, using his shoulders for support as you straddled his slightly spread thighs. Their twisted flirting was seemingly endless. Couldn’t they have picked a better time?

“Don’t get bratty, darling,” he snickered and quickly slapped your breast, making you yelp in surprise. “Unless you can’t survive another minute without our dicks inside you.”

You nodded and bit your lip, feeling your juices trickle out of your hole and drop down your leg. “Please, sir, I need you. Need you both.” Crocodile hummed in satisfaction – he had trained you so well. He pressed an intoxicating open-mouthed kiss to your jaw and simultaneously twisted your nipple. 

“Starting without me isn’t fair.” Doflamingo grumbled petulantly as he shuffled into place behind you. It took a few tries until he found a way to comfortably tangle his hairy legs around Crocodile’s, their pelvises almost pressed together and his massive cock smacking against your spine. The blonde bit your earlobe and laughed when you flinched.

Your fists clenched onto Crocodile’s smooth fur jacket, breasts flush against his muscular pecs, while soft and wispy feathers grazed your back and sent ticklish shivers down your spine. The air felt electric with anticipation and excitement and pure unadulterated lust. Your body might hate you the next morning for this — no, you’d feel the aftermath of their desire for at least a few days. But at that moment, you needed your holes stuffed full more than you needed oxygen. 

With a shaky breath, you stood on your knees, their long cocks still barely fitting underneath you. Doflamingo tapped the crown of his dick against your rim before holding it steady. They waited with bated breath for you to sink down.

Two Warlords were inside you.

You felt like your body was ripping in half. And yet the pain made you even wetter, a debauched moan spilling from your lips and eyes rolling back into your skull. Both men simultaneously groaned in satisfaction, an angelic choir of devils singing your praise. Being on top gave you a refreshing sense of control… one that didn’t last very long.

Crocodile’s hand settled on your hip to gently coax you down, while Doflamingo pressed hard on your shoulders. When it was finally too much and your body refused to take any more – not even halfway down their massive lengths – tight strings wound around your thighs and forced you down the rest of the way. You cried out in anguish, speared on their massive cocks.

Thankfully, the two men let you adjust once you had their entire lengths inside you and rested in their laps. You shuddered in their hold, trying your best to calm your rapid heartbeat. Perhaps there was a hint of kindness in their decision, but it was more likely for their own benefit. A broken toy was no fun to play with and they weren’t even close to being done with you. 

Crocodile reclined against the bed’s headboard and let out a low whistle. “Fuck,” he swore in a gravelly voice, eyes half-lidded and seemingly hypnotized. “You are so fucking full.” 

You looked down in perverted fascination to see your stomach bulging unnaturally, almost making you appear pregnant. He ran his hand over the well-defined outline of his cock and you felt it twitch inside you excitedly.

“What? No fair, you’re hogging the view. Let me see.” Doflamingo pouted, leaning over your shoulder. He giggled ferociously at the sight. “Oh, that’s sexy as hell.” The hand that wasn’t manipulating his strings joined Crocodile’s to rub over your bulging belly, applying pressure to your womb and making you keen. “That feels good, huh? You like when we force our way inside your tight little holes and rearrange your guts?”

Your face burned red at his filthy words but you nodded rapidly. Your boss frowned and pinched your clit, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. “I thought I taught you to use your words.”

“Y-Yes, sir, I love it.” Doflamingo’s long tongue snaked out to lap away the single teardrop running down your cheek. 

“So obedient.” He nuzzled into your neck almost affectionately. “So good for us.”

Moments like this made you question what your relationship with them was. Sure, you were definitely more of a prized possession than a romantic partner, but maybe you possessed them in a different way. You would never voice that thought aloud, but it’s what prevented you from quitting your job, getting the hell out of Alabasta, and finding an actual partner and decent life somewhere else. They could have anyone in the world they desired, but Crocodile hadn’t been with anyone besides Doflamingo and you since the first time he fucked you on his office desk, much too horny to try to seduce you back to his bedroom.

And while you didn’t know what the other Warlord got up to in his own kingdom, at the very least, he always came back for more. Doflamingo could tell vicious lies dripping with sugar like no one else, but part of you hoped there was some truth in calling you gorgeous and perfect and his good little whore. 

You knew you were probably deluding yourself, but Doflamingo’s warm mouth sucking marks into your throat and Crocodile’s palm rubbing over your stomach soothingly made your heart ache and veins burn.

“Alright, enough. Let’s get started.” The blonde used his powers to raise your body slowly, revealing their cocks glistening with your juices. 

“No strings,” Crocodile interrupted, but added with a smirk, “Yet. Let her do it herself for now.”

Doflamingo licked his lips and leaned back on his hands leisurely. His strings loosened but didn’t disappear. “Show me what you’ve got, puppet.” 

This was a test. There would be hell to pay if you failed, though you weren’t sure if passing was humanly possible. You continued to rise up at the pace Doflamingo’s strings had set, inch by delicious inch rubbing against your walls until only the tips were inside you. “You’re both so big,” you bit your lip seductively. “I feel so empty without your dicks.”

Then you quickly sank back down to the base, knocking the air out of your lungs. Head flying back to rest on the blonde man’s feather-coated shoulder. Crocodile’s cock kissed your cervix as Doflamingo’s bullied its way inside your asshole deeper than anything was meant to go. 

You repeated the motion again and again, doing your best to clench your holes tight and take their entire lengths every time. 

“This is getting boring,” the blonde rolled his eyes impatiently. A subtle twitch of his fingers forced you onto your knees then slammed you back down to their laps, their balls slapping against your sensitive skin. You were too overwhelmed to even comprehend what happened, but the man continued to manipulate your body at a brutal pace. 

“Much better.” Crocodile agreed, taking in your blank expression and glazed-over eyes. Your mind completely shut off, focused on receiving every bit of carnal pleasure that the two Warlords graciously gave you. You were completely under their control and at their mercy. Your boss cooed at you mockingly. “Poor girl. There’s not a thought in that pretty little head of yours, huh, doll?”

Your silence answered his question so perfectly that he didn’t even punish you for not responding. 

“She fucking loves it. Look at her drool.” Doflamingo grabbed your chin and forced you to face him. He delighted in your debauched expression, tongue lolling out of your mouth, before leaning back and slapping your ass. Your body spasmed around their cocks. 

The blonde used his strings to hold you down as far as possible, admiring the bulge in your stomach again with a sick grin. You hardly noticed it — you hardly noticed anything at this point. Then he ripped Crocodile’s lit cigar from the corner of his mouth and haphazardly threw it across the room. Miraculously, nothing caught on fire. 

“That was expensive.” Crocodile snarled. 

“I don’t care about your fucking tobacco.” Doflamingo grabbed the other man’s slicked-back hair and slammed their lips together in a hungry kiss that was all teeth and tongue. You watched dazedly as they licked at each other’s mouths like feral animals. Matching each other’s intensity and fighting to maintain their dominance. With his free hand, the blonde groped your breast, squeezing it in his large palm before rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The men pulled away, panting heavily from the intense kiss. A thick string of saliva kept their lips connected. Doflamingo broke it by swiping his tongue across Crocodile’s reddened bottom lip. 

“Let’s get her pregnant, Croc. I want her tits swollen with milk so I can suck them dry.” You felt a shiver run through your entire body. What a terrifying, deranged, yet tempting thought. You didn’t dare voice your thoughts, but the blonde still felt your ass clench around his cock. He cackled and roughly tugged at your nipple. “I think our little girl likes that idea.”

Crocodile’s dark eyes turned to you. “Consider yourself lucky that he’s not in your pussy.” As if he was wearing a condom himself. As if he even owned condoms. 

Doflamingo suddenly leaned forward and knocked you down with his weight, causing you and Crocodile to fall like dominos. The dark-haired man was almost flat on his back and you were crushed between their bodies, breasts uncomfortably squished against your boss’s fleshy chest. A cloud of pink feathers suddenly encompassed you, hanging loosely from the blonde’s shoulders and fully caging you in. Now that he was on top, he released the strings from around your thighs. Doflamingo gave a particularly harsh thrust forward and you yelped, the change in angle hitting an extra sensitive part of you. Crocodile’s cock insistently pressed against your g-spot.

The blonde placed his hand softly on Crocodile’s cheek, caressing the sharp line of his jaw. Very out of place, very unlike Doffy. But when he pulled away, a single thin thread followed his fingertip like a spider weaving a web. 

“Get this fucking thing off of me.” The dark-haired man growled, grabbing at where it attached to his jaw in vain. Panic raced through your mind — you didn’t want to literally be in the middle of their fight. But Crocodile didn’t seem truly angry, more annoyed that this happened again. 

“I’ll be nice,” he chuckled menacingly. He slowly moved his pointer finger in a come-hither motion and Crocodile’s hips followed the same upwards path, pushing his cock even further inside you. “See? Just wanted to take the lead.”

Doflamingo immediately resumed his inhuman pace, pistoning in and out and making your ass cheeks jiggle from the impact. One hand mimicked marionette motions as he manipulated Crocodile into mirroring his speed and ferocity, and the other held your hip firmly in place. He perfectly timed their thrusts so they pulled out and pushed in at the same exact time, knocking the air out of your lungs and setting your core on fire.

As godly as both men appeared, they were still very much human and rapidly approaching their orgasms. Your boss’s chest heaved underneath you, eyelids fluttering shut and pink dusting his cheeks. Doflamingo panted like a wild beast, letting out breathy, excited giggles at the sight of his two pretty puppets. A few stray feathers had fallen off his coat which landed in Crocodile’s messy hair and clung to your sticky skin. The overwhelming need to possess and consume both of you made the blonde’s head spin. 

You raised your head from where it was buried in your Crocodile’s chest, now covered in a puddle of your drool. “Please, s-sirs, I need-“ You were interrupted by Doflamingo deftly rubbing your neglected clit in tight circles. You choked on your words, looking at your boss pleadingly. 

“You may cum, darling.” Crocodile offered you a merciful smile. 

Stars flashed before your eyes and you swore you ascended to heaven, every nerve in your body tingling and toes curling tightly as you cried out the names of your saviors, before you came crashing down to earth with an unabashed and sinful drawn-out moan. Moments after that bright white light washed over you, thick white cum exploded in both of your holes as the Warlords cried out simultaneously. Doflamingo kept Crocodile’s hips flush against your body as his heavy balls stuffed you full and only lowered them when he had let out his final spurts. 

“Fuck.” The blonde’s breath caught in his throat as he watched his cum spill out around his length, dripping out of your ass onto Crocodile’s dick underneath. You had never felt so used, so filthy, and fuck did it feel incredible. 

The dark-haired man felt your heart beating rapidly against him and noticed you slowly slip into darkness, your consciousness fading. “Stay with us, doll.” He stroked your hair and ran his rough thumb over your cheek. 

You smiled, dazed and dopey. “Th… thank you…”

“Taking everything we give you and thanking us after… absolutely fucking perfect.” Doflamingo breathed heavily. You wailed from sensitivity as he pulled his cock out of your abused hole and the man beneath you followed suit. More globs of cum dripped out of your pussy and ass and spilled onto Crocodile’s fur coat sprawled out beneath him. Doflamingo giggled in delight. “Better wash that for him tomorrow, little girl.”

“She’s a secretary, not a servant.” Crocodile rolled his eyes, knowing that anyone in a position lower than Doffy’s was interchangeable to him. He swiped two fingers down the cleft of your ass, collecting sticky strings of cum and making your oversensitive body jolt. “But good girls clean up their messes, right?”

You obediently sucked his fingers clean, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning like a whore at the salty taste of their mixed semen. 

Doflamingo untangled his body from yours and reclined back with a satisfied sigh. “When’s round two?”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull, but Crocodile spoke before you could protest — his words held more weight than yours, after all. “That was round four for her. It’s a miracle that your dick hasn’t killed someone yet.”

“Fine, I’ll wait.” He pouted like a spoiled child. “But don’t go soft on me, Croc. You’re the only one who’s fun enough to share toys with.”

Crocodile rolled you off of his chest none too gently, but thankfully, you had a plush blanket and padded mattress to land upon. “If we’re both ready to go, why not do a round without her?” His predatory gaze met yours. “I’m sure she would love to watch.”

Sitting at the lengthy dining table, Donquixote Doflamingo extended his glass out towards the gathering of eclectic individuals. Each person present had an array of wealth, titles and reputation; all represented with their names embroidered into their napkins and painted into their drinking glasses.  

Doflamingo had planned everything perfectly. He had plotted each element of the meal to have everyone relax into the welcoming environment: keeping the air light and merry. There was not a fork out of place, nor a knife unaccounted for. He wanted the mood light enough to have you not suspecting a thing to go wrong.

And everything was going exceptionally well, all according to his plan. 

“To a long and healthy relationship between us all,” Doflamingo's smirk grew on his face, him turning to you with a small wink, “And to casting aside differences in the face of humility. Salud.”

“Salud,” you and the crowd repeated in unison, all arms extended with beverages in hand. 

Your glasses all contained gold letters depicting your names and titles on the rim. The servers ensured the liquid was all topped up with your chosen beverage for the night. Your choice? Whisky, neat with no frills nor ice to taint the liquid. Just like your host, Donquixote Doflamingo. 

All according to your plan. 

As soon as you received an invitation to attend this dinner party, you knew Doflamingo was planning something sinister for you. His silly little mind games he used to attempt to get the better of you were always centric to his plans. To embarrass you, to humiliate you, to harm you, to ridicule you: this was always the aim. And you had had just about enough of this torment. 

Getting information out of his menagerie of guards and house staff was simple enough. Offer them enough Berry, and their lips would never stop moving. Hearing Doflamingo’s disappearance in the town square, halting over a small shop stocked with pills and powders, had you mortified at his cruel fate he had in store for the evening. 

You expected poison to meet with your lips the moment you raised your glass to meet them. Your little game would rise to the greatest crescendo yet, you clutching at your rapidly closing throat and pleading for reprieve. Considering Doflamingo was the one to purchase the powdered poison, he would likely only offer you the antidote if you begged for it. 

In lieu of following through with the action of swallowing a heaping gulp of poisoned whiskey, you decided to give the pink-feathered bastard a taste of his own medicine. You reap what you sow, was how you figured it. 

“Fuck around and find out,” you chanted internally. Your soft, knowing smile drew over your features; watching Doflamingo drain the contents from the glass in his hand with gusto. You mirrored his action, downing the liquid in a single gulp. 

Doflamingo shot you a smirk, watching your face for any immediate changes to your body. A flush of your cheeks, a dilation of your pupils, your lips parting and becoming both drier and filling with saliva in unison. He was shocked when you returned his smile: only warmth being offered to him from your place across the dining table before turning to the woman beside you. 

He initially thought drugging you with a form of poison would be a hilarious sight: watching you claw at your neck and beg for the antidote in front of a room of his wealthy guests gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. But to give you an incredibly potent aphrodisiac with no known cure aside from giving into your cravings? Why, the thought alone made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.

He wanted nothing more than to have you shed your fine clothes of their place on your body, tearing them at the seams and beg for him to finally fuck you. He wanted you so desperate for him, you'd care not of the fact the room was full with those in your same league of formal standing. 

As you had always turned down his prior advances of you; he wanted to claim you publically, and leave no room for misinterpretation for his ownership of you. He wanted you to want him, to yearn for him, to plead for his cock with lust oozing from your body in rapid waves. 

He wanted you to want him in the same way he chased his release into his palm every night since your first introduction together. He wanted you the same way he would pay concubines to pretend to be you: copying your mannerisms, immigrating your vocal cadence, wearing similar attire. 

It was never enough for him. He wanted the real thing, and he hoped this final push would have you want him back. 

His craving to have you on your knees and begging for his cock to fill you to the brink with his cum, your neediness flushing your face, the whines and whimpers you'd elicit was too much for his mind to catch up with. He was already feeling aroused by the thought alone, confused at how alite his body felt with just the simple flash of erotic imagery. 

Suddenly the room was hot. Too hot. His clothes were too tight, the lights were too bright; causing him to wince behind his rosy glasses. His cheeks tinted with a soft pink, his body immediately becoming ignited with the hot beads of glistening sweat. 

He attempted to process the feeling, the stiffness of his erection brushing painfully against his striped, leather pants. Eyes widening and teeth clenching, he hissed out a winced breath as the sensitive buds of his nipples grazed against the open jacket firmly clutched against his chest. 

Looking down at the glass in his hands, his lips parted with horror. 

Your name was intricately painted in perfect cursive on the rim, each letter sparkling in the light illuminating the room. He snapped his face over to you, watching as your smile climbed up at the corners of your lips. 

Remaining blissfully unaware of how much torture you narrowly avoided, you asked the waiter for another glass of whiskey for yourself and your companion beside you.  

The glass in your hand had his name “Donquixote Doflamingo” in coiled lettering on the rim. As the waiter filled it, you held your eyes firmly against your conversation partner before you slowly sipped at the contents within. 

The cruel reality of his situation now dawned on him. 

He had unintentionally spiked himself with the incurable aphrodisiac, in public, instead of you. And now his body was desperate to see his lust satisfied by any means necessary. 

“And what did he say, Maria?” you asked the woman beside you, your attention fully fixed on her eyes as she relayed her tale. 

“He said: ‘a goddess as radiant as you should have men falling to their knees in adoration’,” Maria mocked in a lower, masculine tone. You bit back your smirk, eyeing her dangerously. 

“And what did you do in response to that?” you urged her with an excitement in your knowing tone. 

“I let him worship,” she smirked at you. Both of you became overcome with a fit of giggles, laughing at the sheer audacity of her promiscuous nature. You tapped her forearm with your hand playfully, enjoying a soft shove in return from her shoulder. 

Of the guests amongst you: Maria and you had known each other the longest. Both of you felt out of place here, being two of the few women present. You were roughly of similar ages, both unmarried and unspoken for. She had a soft-spot for the marines, her latest conquest being the right-hand man of Vice-Admiral Garp. 

“You are incorrigible,” you tease her, with a soft, “Atta girl,” added, nudging her with your shoulder before elevating your drinking glass up to take a sip. 

“Speaking of,” she returned your gentle nudge with one of her own, “Doflamingo’s glass? How'd you manage that?” She gestured to the cup in your hand. 

“Bribed the server,” you smirked, clinking the rim of the cup with the one in her own hand, “Had a feeling a game was afoot. And you know what they say,” you leant against her shoulder, both fixing your eyes on the blonde man at the head of the table. 

“Play stupid games,” you both uttered in unison, “Win stupid prizes," concluding with a sinister chuckle,

Your host for the night was hunched over the table, his teeth clenched firmly shut and soft beads of sweat were rapidly now gathering at his temple. This only solidified your suspicions, noticing the silence he was presenting in lieu of his usual conversation. 

Raising your brow, you remained focussed on him as the grip his hands perched against the table made his knuckles flash white. Curiosity plagued you, unsure as to why he was not asking his staff for the antidote to cure him. He was obviously under the effects of some kind of poison, his heavy breathing and indicator of such a plight. 

Why would he not ask for help? 

His eyes meet with yours, his frown deep and teeth grimacing. Quietly raising your eyebrows at him, you gently extend his glass in the air to add further sting to the ridicule. His eyes drew up to glare beneath his pink glasses. His pupils were focussed on your body, noticing every exposed area of flesh remaining unshrouded on the neckline of your button-up shirt. His eyes attempted to undress you, his gaze scorching you beneath his rose-tinted glasses. 

Noticing his gaze, you hum in deep thought. Shrugging your shoulders back, you turn to Maria beside you and give her a short nudge. Upon finishing her final bite of dessert, she turned towards you. 

“I’m going to go and gloat for a minute at my quick swipe,” you smirk at the woman to your side, “I'll be back once I'm satisfied he's ‘faced his humility’.” 

“Be safe!” she giggled, ushering you on with two quickened waves of her hands. 

“I'll be so safe,” you mocked her in return. Rising to your feet, you tucked your chair beneath the table and watched as several others did the same. All mingling amongst one another, you made yourself comfortable in a now vacant seat beside Doflamingo. 

“Doflamingo,” you nodded your acknowledgement, crossing your knees beneath the table and nudging his calf with your foot, “You've been awfully quiet tonight.” Trailing your toes over his calf, you noticed the hitch of his breath as he balled his knuckles into clenched fists. 

“Something amiss?” You asked him, placing down your drinking glass for the night while circling the rim with your index finger, “Something not quite going according to plan, perhaps?” Your smile grew as you noticed his shoulders tense, his breath hitch and his legs began to shake beneath your foot.

Gently trailing your toes higher, you eyed his reaction cautiously. His body was as hard as polished marble, his hair now slightly damp with a small amount of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Oh, Doffy,” you hissed a small whisper, your foot now tracing the outer edge of his thigh, “What the fuck were you attempting to poison me with this time?” You clicked your tongue at him, pouting through pursed lips, “Doesn't look like it's quite agreeing with you.”

“Out,” he whispered in a gruff bark. 

The quiet growl cut through the air like a steel knife carving through tough flesh. All guests immediately drew their eyes over to the pink-feathered host with a snap of their chins towards him. 

“I said out,” he snarled, his eyes frantically darting between each member attending the dinner party, “Everyone out. Out now.” 

You flinched at his change of tone, jumping back in your seat but refusing to hede to his dictation. Doflamingo felt his blood ignite with a passionate lust he had never experienced. He needed the cure, and he needed it now. 

Each guest rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves as they hastily fled the space with caution. Against your better judgment to follow suit, you remained behind and rose the glass marked ‘Donquixote Doflamingo’ to your lips and finished the remaining liquid within. 

Whiskey burned its way down your throat, the honey-sweet notes lingering on your palate as you placed the glass down once more. You rose to your feet and grasped for the water jug in front of Doflamingo and poured your emptied glasses with the icy water. 

“You don't look so good, sweetheart,” you cooed in a mocking gloat, placing the water glass with your name in front of him, “Have a drink, you'll feel better.” Doffy remained unmoving, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his body fought against itself. 

He tried to convince himself he'll manage this. He'll get through it without asking for your aid. He'll be able to withstand the potency of the aphrodisiac without becoming a whimpering mess in front of you.  

But then you spoke. 

And you kept speaking. 

Your sweet voice cut into his resolve with expert precision. Haunting him, cursing him with the ridicule that you should've been experiencing. He attempted to control his urges by gulping back a dry mouthful of saliva and concentrating on slowing his breathing. 

“Oh, come now,” you scolded the tall, blonde, “Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” You leaned your hips back on the table and eyed him cautiously, “Not even going to order the staff to get the oral antidote for whatever you've-.”

“-There is no oral antidote,” he spat through gritted teeth. He tried to ignore the twitch of his cock at the mention of ‘come’ and ‘oral’ from your lips. The swelling blood pooling in his cock had the shiny tip brushing against his leather pants. He mewled at the small twitch of his oversensitive knob, attempting to disguise his whimper with a soft cough. 

The air grew thick and tense; silence swelling in an uncomfortable dance of fluttering heartbeats. After taking a moment to hone in on your thoughts, you slowly inhaled and exhaled alongside externally verbally processing. 

“You were going to have me drink a poison tonight that had no cure?” you uttered darkly, “And watch me convulse as I took my last breaths?” Down turning your snarl and drawing up your heckles, you placed your foot on Doflamingo's bare chest and kicked hard. You glared into his shrouded eyes. 

“You were going to publicly execute me in front of your guests?” you continued, “My friends, my colleagues, my potential clients? Doflamingo,” you continued, leaning down and pressing your chest into your knee, “You deserve your cruel fate. Suffer, asshole.”

A shaky, large hand slowly drew itself up and softly cupped your ankle. He cautiously lifted your foot off his chest and pressed his lips against the ball of your foot. As soon as that kiss ended, another was placed slightly higher up into your inner calf. 

He removed your shoe, casting it to the side of him as he groped at you with his large hands. Hastily drawing his hands down to collect your other foot, he rid the presence of your shoe from you before placing your toes down on his thigh. 

Shock wrote itself on your face as a flurry of several more kisses were pressed into you. Each kiss was accompanied by a strangled whimper falling from Doflamingo's lips: breath hitched, brows furrowed and throat humming out the calls of desperation. 

“It h-has a cure, mi amor,” he softly whined into your leg, “Just not a manufactured one.” His lips could barely part with your skin, each soft kiss growing hungrier the further up your legs he drew. Humming through several more of his kisses, you were too terrified to truly correlate his affectionate advances to any known experience prior. 

Donquixote Doflamingo had always been intrigued by you. Always finding some way to bully, vex and torture you. This was something you never anticipated. His desperation in need for you was now depicted as his tongue raked up your thighs: his moist organ dampening your pants with a long and lustful streak of saliva. 

“Absolutely not,” you spat, forcing Doflamingo back into his seat by pressing your foot against his chest once again. “What the fuck, Doflamingo?” He mewled as your heel grazed his right nipple, his body crying out in relief and arousing itself further. 

From this angle, you hastily drew your eyes down to the large polearm hoisting up his pants in a perfect peaked tent. His large cock left very little to the imagination beneath the shroud of his leathery pants. 

He whispered your name, the last syllable calling out in a soft sob. His breaths were both deep and shallow, his body hot and cold, his mind clear and cloudy - he had no idea how to process these emotions. All he knew is he needed you. He wanted you. He craved you. 

Disgust was now openly displayed on your features at his desperation, watching the mighty King of Dressrosa sob and cry for you like a child that had a favorite toy hovering just out of reach. His hands began opening and closing, the strings of his devil-fruit power beginning to hover in his fingertips; only to fizzle away as soon as they formed. 

“What were you attempting to spike me with tonight?” you hissed at the blonde king, adding an emphatic kick to his chest to regain his attention. 

“An aphrodisiac,” he admitted, choking on his confession as he attempted to withhold it, “One so potent, the only cure for it is s-sex.” He moaned with his hissed admission, throwing his head back and whimpering. 

You sucked in a horrified gasp, recoiling as you understood exactly what he was admitting to you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts and mull over your next actions. Hardening your resolve, you shook it off and removed your foot from his chest, before straightening up your clothes. 

“Fuck you, Doflamingo,” you spat, beginning to walk away from him and collect your discarded shoes. He spun in his chair, almost knocking the seat over with the haste he followed you with. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered your name, falling onto his knees and needily following you with desperate longing. You growled, pairing your shoes and beginning to attempt to exit the dining room. 

“Getting you your concubines,” you spat over your shoulder, “Only cure for this is sex, and there is no way you're getting that from me,” Your hand hovered the doorknob, halting as a large hand drew down onto your knuckles and held your hand firmly away from it. 

“Don’t,” he huffed a gruff growl, his body leaning unconsciously towards you. 

“You want the cure? I'm getting it for you,” you whispered, rage bubbling within your chest, “It's likely better than the fate you had in store for me.”

Silence was once again uncomfortable between you, your confirmation solidified in the quiet of his response. 

“You would've had me beg for it, wouldn't you?” you uttered darkly, “Have me grovel and plead for release in front of the entire dinner party.” His hand tightened over yours, bordering on painful. 

“Yes,” he admitted in an icy tone. He sucked in his bottom lip, clenching his teeth over them and moaned while inhaling your scented perfume. 

“And who was going to be the likely cure for this tonight?” you shot over your shoulder, noticing his face was hovering closely against your shoulder, “You?”

“Yes,” he whined, hovering his body behind yours and caging it against the door. 

“You bastard,” you spat, turning around to face him and breaking your hand away from his, “You don't deserve a cure for this-.”

“-I know,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees in front of you, “I know, I know. I just-...” 

“Just what, Doffy?” you growled at him, “What now? After all this, what-?”

“-I just wanted you to want me how desperately I want you,” he confessed in a single breath, his words fleeing from him with unbridled gusto, “I wanted you to want me so badly, your body couldn't stand another moment without me. And now that I've taken the fucking drug instead of you,” he lunged towards you, clutching at your thighs, “I can barely keep up with how much I want you.”

“Doffy, what are you-?” you began, your breath hitching in a shriek as he ripped off your pants in a quick swipe. “Doflamingo!” you yelped as he buried his nose against your clothed cunt. 

“Let me taste you,” he whined, nuzzling against your panties with his nose and greedily lapping at the cotton with his lengthy tongue, “Please, let me have you cry for me. I n-need you.”

“Doffy,” you uttered sharply, nudging his shoulders away from you - which did nothing to halt his enthusiastic advance. He instead circled his arms around your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders. 

Shrieking, your back was now placed against the door: Doflamingo's head buried deep between your thighs as he clasped his hands around your ass to hold you in place. Greedily bobbing his head, he began lapping at your cunt with his slippery tongue, paying no mind at all to the fact what he wanted most was shrouded by the fabric of your panties.

With each cruel swipe, a single word was chanted in a penance-like prayer. The word was music to your ears, your resolve crumbling with each whimpered petition. The song of his desperate pleading beckoned you to let go and give into him. 

“Please.” He hooked his lengthy tongue beneath the fabric, clenching his teeth on the elastic and noseying it aside with his chin. “Please.” Flattening his tongue, he gasped as he tasted your sweet nectar and swirled his organ over your clit. “Please.” 

The ache in his pants was so strong, he could barely take another moment not being buried to the hilt within you. He continued to make an effort to withhold his cravings, to ensure you were ready to take him, as he was twice your size in every way. 

Being the giver was not his strength. Doflamingo would take, take, take until there was nothing left to take from his bedmates. He wanted to chase his release, no matter the consequences his large cock would indent while sheathed within a partner. He simply didn’t care about them, but he did care about you. He wanted you to want him so badly, desperate to earn your approval and love. He needed you to know how far he was willing to go to ensure this was as good for you as it was going to be for him. 

You barely had a moment to adjust to what was happening to you. Replaying the events of the evening perplexed you with even more confusion. 

Doflamingo invited you to dinner with the intention of poisoning you. A poison that was an incurable aphrodisiac that made you desperate for sex with any willing partner. The reason he wanted to poison you with this was because he liked you, and wanted to pursue you romantically. And instead of asking to formally court you, he decided spiking your drink in public was the answer. 

You had every right to push him away, to tell him “no,” and to halt his advances. But at each skillful swipe of his tongue, you felt more of yourself melting away beneath his humility. His apology dictated to you with each intentional swirl of his lengthy tongue.

“Doffy,” you mewled to him, feeling his tongue dip into your slick entrance. His nose circled your clit, his skillful organ greedily flicking in and out of your cunt while hooking up within you to climb deeper into your body. Your walls clenched around his tongue, his chin spiriting you towards bliss as he ground your pussy against his face. 

“Please,” he muffled into your core, desperately lapping up your arousal like a dog parched for water, “Please, please.” You felt your stomach tighten, his aggressive chase of your high with his lips wrapping around your sensitive bud ushering you to your unravel. 

“Doffy, wh-what are you-oh!” your breathy gasp had his hands pawing at your ass, grinding your core against his face harder to urge you closer to your high. Your hands pawed at the wall behind you to brace yourself against it. You found the pit of your stomach wind tighter and shoot sparks down your legs. He moaned into you, expressing his gratitude at your body beginning to give into him and release your inhibitions onto his face. 

“Please cum,” he begged, slurping messily and lapping up your juices, “Cum on my tongue. I n-need it.”

Your hands shot down to his hair, clutching at the strands in heaped fistfuls. As the coil inside you snapped, your lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he channeled his desperation into meeting your needy thrusts and grinds against his head. “Let go, let go,” he begged you, his face becoming coated by your gushing slick. 

“D-Doffy! Oh, f-fuck. Oh fuck, I'm cumming. You fucking prick, Doffy!” You mewled his name, crying for him with your eyes clenched tightly shut. 

His hair began to burn within your fists, but he truly didn’t care. His tongue lapped up your gushing cunt over emphatically while grinding you skillfully against his nose, lips, tongue and chin. Riding your high, Doflamingo continued to hold you against his face as your soul fell back inside your body. 

“So good,” the older Donquixote brother complimented you, looking up at you through his glasses, “Now let me fuck you.” He withdrew your hips from his head, attempting to wrap your legs around his waist and shepherd you over the waistband of his pants. 

He pawed at the front button, his cock immediately springing forth and glistening in the light. Eyes spread wide with worry, you shook your head after feeling yourself recover from your high. Your underwear once again shrouded your glistening core, protecting you from a small twitch of interest from Doflamingo’s aching and incredibly large cock. 

“No, Doffy,” you firmly commanded, wriggling yourself away from his hold over you. As you side stepped, his hands extended in longing with outstretched, splayed fingers. He whimpered, his body leaning down and shaking with desire. 

“B-But I-...” he didn't get a chance to speak, as you growled over his pleas. 

“-You pinned me to the wall, and forced me cum on your face after you attempted to poison me,” you barked at him, “And now you expect me to help you by what? What, Doffy?” you snarled intp his face, baring your teeth at him, “You want me to sit on your cock and ride you until you cum? Tsk, pathetic.”

A sound you were not expecting to exhale through Doflamingo's lips at this moment. He sobbed, his lips quivering as his hands shuddered. His lengthy digits hovered over his cock, desperately wanting to chase his high into his fist: only withholding it because he knew it would make his situation all the more severe. He knew he couldn’t cum without external, other bodily stimuli. He needed you to help him, and he bit back a soft sob as his eyes grew glossy behind his pink glasses. 

“I need you,” he whimpered, “I need you so badly. I needed you when you were first introduced to me, and I have needed you ever since.”

“I simply do not care, Doflamingo,” you spat in return, his soft sob doing nothing to break you away from your resolve, “The only thing I’ll do for you is get you a concubine to sleeve your cock in, but otherwise I am done.”

“I don’t want them, I want you,” he whimpered, shaky hands balling into his covered thighs. His cock twitched in the air, the veiny underside throbbing with pulsating longing. You fold your arms over your chest, looking down on the taller man with absolute disgust. He held your gaze with his shrouded eyes, disguising his longing behind their tinted hue. 

“You repulse me,” you snarled, walking over to his kneeling position on the floor.

“I adore you,” he mewled through his confession, gasping as you grasped his girthy shaft. 

“You don’t deserve this,” you began pumping his shaft, flicking your thumb over his glistening knob. 

“You deserve the world,” he confessed, a small release of tears began expelling from his eyes. You halted your fisting of his cock, focussing your unrelenting grasp over his tip and squeezing it. 

“I despise you,” you spat, using your unoccupied hand to pry his glasses away from his face; throwing them on the table beside you. As soon as your attention returned to his now unconcealed eyes, your breath was stolen from your lungs. 

“I desire you,” he whispered, blinking slowly with his lengthy blonde eyelashes. You understood now why he concealed them behind his sinister glasses. His irises were a pastel pink, eyes expressive now they were unshrouded by the coloured glass. There was no lie presented within his eyes, honesty being the only inhabitant lying within. He was a very pretty man, especially with his whole face now presented to the light. 

“You make me sick,” you lied through gritted teeth as you rolled your neck, stepping out of your panties and straddling his lap, “You are foul,” you anchored your knees against his hips, placing your heels firmly on the floor beside him, “Obnoxious and detestable.”

“Mami, stop teasing me with your horrible words,” he moaned, “I’ll cum.”

“You’ll cum when I allow you to cum,” you retorted firmly. The bob of his adams apple did not escape your notice, nor did the soft roll of his glassy pastel eyes. You clicked your tongue, lining up your slit with the tip of his cock. 

“Don’t you fucking move, Doflamingo,” you barked your orders at him, “You’re a great deal larger than I am, and I am no mere whore you paid to fuck yourself stupid in.” He sucked in a soft whimper as he felt your prior release coat his knob, “I don’t particularly enjoy taking partners twice my size, and I don’t want to get hurt because you decided you wanted to buck up suddenly.”

“I-I won’t, mi amor,” he stuttered, crying out a little with his lips parted, “I’ll be a good boy, I swear. So good for you.” 

“Pathetic prick,” you mewled at him, eyes wincing as your body adjusted to taking his tip inside you, “It hurts,” you cried out a little as your body began to sink onto him. Your slow descent atop his cock, impaling yourself on his thick shaft, had your breath hitch and a soft whimper leave you, “And you were going to rail me with it, weren’t you?”

He stooped low, covering his eyes by burying his head against your clavicle. He huffed out his restraint, his voice shuddering as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. Wrapping his arms around your back, his fingertips ghosted around your body to trace gentle encouraging circles against your skin. 

“Answer me, asshole,” you sobbed, slowly sinking down as you felt the blunt, mushroomed tip begin to kiss your cervix, “You owe me that much.” Anchoring your hands against his shoulders, you braced yourself as you continued to inch your way down his lance of a cock. The girth was almost the width of your forearm, your glistening walls struggling to stretch to accommodate him. 

His shoulders shook, his lips finding your collar bone and pressing gentle kisses against it. He winced as he disciplined his body to wait for you to adjust to him, sniffing back a small cry.

“Th-The pollen makes you-... nnnmpph-... Makes your arousal heighten,” he winced at his resolve, bracing you within his arms and snaking his large hand up your back, “You would’ve b-been too far gone to care.” 

“Is that what you are, Doflamingo?” you snarled at him, sinking yourself past your limit to suck more of his full length inside your body, “Too far gone to care?”

“I want you, mi amor,” he murmured into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your neck and brushing your blouse away from covering your chest, “Although, I a-am reaching my l-limit for tolerance. I need to fuck you. I need t-to cum inside you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move,” you whimpered at him, “You’re too f-fucking b-big.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, tearing his face away from you to look into your eyes, “I am so sorry.” His expressive eyes pleaded for you to understand how hard he was trying to hold himself back. His pink irises were eclipsed by his blown pupils, his lips open and panting, his temple bleeding with drops of heavy sweat. He couldn’t help a soft rock of his hips, testing how your body adjusted to him. 

“Stop!” you barked at him, “Stop that right now or I’ll leave.” Doffy whined, prying open your shirt with one quick rip, tearing the buttons from the seams and revealing your bare chest to him. The buttons flew over the room, your nipples perking up now revealed to the cool of the air. Your sleeves fell down your shoulders and each inch of revealed skin was immediately replaced by Doflamingo’s lips. 

“I’m r-reaching the e-end of my resolve, mi amor,” he confessed, “I-I’m c-close, and I need you to bounce a little on me. Please ride me as you are now, you d-don’t need to take any more of my length. Please just bounce on what you can take. I’ll be so good.”

“Close just from me taking your partial length? You’re so fucking pathetic,” you degraded him, your voice solid and unwavering. You felt the twitch of his cock, his body revealing more to you than he would ever audibly inform you, “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Doffy whimpered.

“S-Stop degrading me,” he attempted to growl, his voice breaking and turning more into a breathy pant, “Stop it or I’ll cum, mi amor. I’ll cum so fucking hard for you.” His whispered confession had you elevate a sinister smirk up your lips.

“Stop calling me ‘mi amor’,” you wrapped your right hand around his throat, your left perched on his shoulder as you sunk yourself down on him, “I’m not your love. You're a conniving and devious bastard, and I despise you.”

“Just like that, Mami,” he whimpered, hands falling to your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, “I know you hate me. I adore that about you. I wanted you for so long, and you’re so, so good.”

“At least your ears work, you arrogant prick,” you released your firm hold on his throat, glaring into his eyes as you continued to take more of him into you. You became more confident in riding his swollen cock, bouncing, writhing and grinding your slick cunt against his pelvis, “Maybe there is hope for you after all-.”

“-No, no,” he begged, pressing his throat against your palm, “No: I’m nauseating, I’m disgusting, I’m pathetic. Please, please choke me. Tell me how much you hate me. Ride my cock while you tell me you find me repulsive.” 

“Oh fuck, Doffy,” you bit back your moan, feeling the rapid approach of your second orgasm stampeed within your abdomen. You choked him harder, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you circled your hips on his cock. His eyes held firm to yours, feeling the tangible dislike against him from you. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes back in bliss, his balls sucked deep within his stomach the longer you rode him. 

“I abhor you,” you whined, feeling him hold back meeting your bobbed movements. You finally began encouraging him to thrust up into you, your motions now rhythmic and in perfect synchrony. 

“I adore you,” he whispered in return, placing his lips against your jaw and tenderly kissing you. 

“I f-fucking loathe you,” you felt the familiar sparks indicating the eruption of an impending orgasm. Your pussy began contracting around him, your walls beckoning him with rhythmic throbbing. 

Whimpering, your world came crashing like waves breaking down cinder blocks. You threw your head back, keening more so at the fact Doflamingo made you cum for a second time tonight. The first one was against your will, this one you ensured you were in control of. 

“I fucking l-love you,” he held his eyes against yours, his orbs glassy as they filled with tears, “I love you so fucking much,” he mewled in bliss as spurts of his hot cum splashed deep within you, “I-I-... I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m c-cumming. You’re s-so good. I love you s-so fucking much. I love you.” 

He cried, hot tears of relief spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed through his accentuated release. His lip quivered, his highly emotive eyes looking almost innocent the longer he rocked his hips up into yours. You squeezed his throat, choking him as your pussy milked him of his large load. 

The spill of his seed dripped down your legs and onto his patterned leather pants. The blunt tip of his velvety cock continued to kiss your cervix, propelling you into a longer release. Your walls could barely contract around his cock due to the stretch, but each time Doffy’s cock released a squirt of his cum, it twitched back enough for your cunt to wring his shaft. 

The twin highs seemed to last an eternity. Spurts of his load continued mixing with your slick and Doflamingo’s prior saliva. You were not sure when exactly it happened, but you found yourself within an almost loving embrace within Doflamingo’s arms. His cock was sleeved completely within you to the hilt, your arms circling his shoulders as you both hid your faces in each other’s necks. His hands gripped your waist, his blonde eyelashes ticking your shoulder as he buried himself deeper within you. 

Sunk to the hilt, you remained that way until your thighs began to burn from holding your body up over his thighs. Your pussy began to ache, coming down from your high with his full length still buried within you. Unhooking your arms from his shoulders, you attempted to remove yourself from his embrace to no avail. He held you firmly, not enough to bruise, but not allowing any room for you to wriggle away from him. 

“Doflamingo, release me,” you barked at him, shoving his shoulders away in an attempt to reveal his eyes to you. 

He held you tighter. 

“Doflamingo, let me go,” you spat, trying again to flee from his steely grip. He gripped his elbows behind your back, holding you firmer. 

Your panic grew more frantic, your heart beating faster than it did when you rode through your bliss. 

“Doflamingo, you will break away from me this instant,” you pushed and shoved him with all your might, only managing to have your abdomen ache at being so full for so long. 

He refused. 

“Doflamingo, if you don’t free me from your grip right now; I’ll-,” Doflamingo murmured against your chest, halting your wriggling and frantic movements. 

“-But if I let you go, you’ll flee,” his voice whimpered, his chin anchoring against your chest and staring his blush-coloured orbs up at you. You felt yourself become breathless beneath the spell of his loving look, feeling all emotion pouring from his eyes onto you. 

“Yeah, that’s the point,” you attempted to break from his embrace, only causing Doflamingo to grip you tighter. 

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he massaged down your back, pressing on your hips firmly enough to lock you against him, “I meant every word I said. I love-.”

“-And I meant every word I said, Donquixote,” you winced against him, attempting to pry his hands off you by gripping his wrists. He was far stronger than you were, causing panic to rise within your chest, “I hate you.”

“Marry me.” 

Those words shocked you, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. Again, those ruby orbs held you captive. You couldn’t believe how expressive they were. 

His soul was raw behind those twin lanterns, illuminating his face with the innocence you were certain had long-since left him. Still, you remained firm - the softening of Doflamingo’s cock within you brought you crashing back to reality. 

“Never.” 

“Consider it,” he sighed, releasing your left thigh and cupping your cheek with his left hand, “Consider it, and you will want for nothing. That’s all I ask,” he rose from his stoop and pressed his forehead against yours, “That’s all I want. All I’ve only ever wanted.” 

Using this opportunity: you hastily rose to your feet, the crude squelch of Doflamingo’s flaccid cock exiting your slit prompting you to cringe more than the embarrassment you felt at his profession of love. You felt the mix of fluids seep out of your core, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. He called your name, wincing now he felt empty and unfulfilled without you wrapped around him. 

“No,” you retorted, bending down to recover your panties and pants. You wrapped your top around your chest to shield your body away from his eyes. 

“You would be my queen,” he tried again, leaning forward on his knees and looking up at you, “Queen of Dressrosa. Queen of my heart. I would have you rule beside me as an equal, mi amor-.”

“-I said ‘no’, Donquixote.” Your buttons from your shirt lay scattered on the floor, your eyes darting around while arguing whether they're worth collecting. 

“Please,” he whispered his soft beg, his palms finding the floor as he began to crawl towards you, “Please, I need you. I want you. I crave you. I would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you - just say you'll be mine.”

“Look,” you turned on your heel, glaring at him with enough animosity to halt his low stalking prowl, “The next time you attempt to drug me over dinner and accidentally drug yourself in my place,” you snarled, prompting Doffy’s eyes to fall half-lidded in adoration, “Do not call on me for aid, you won't find any empathy from me.”

You hurriedly thrust your panties and pants back over your sticky legs, tucking your shirt into them as Doflamingo sat back on his knees, kneeling in stunned silence. Without a further word, you made your way towards the large exit, only stopping your withdrawal when Doflamingo tried one final time to woo you. 

“You didn't even let me kiss you,” he whispered in a voice so soft, you halted in place to hear him. You turned your chin, glancing at him over your shoulder as he sat in somber silence. 

“If you think you're getting a kiss from me after all that-...” you began, fully turning to face him as his head lay hanging low to avoid your eyes. You sighed, finally in pity for a man who resorted to great lengths to gain your attention, “...you get one to show me your gratuity.”

Doflamingo perked up, his ruby eyes meeting with yours with the hope of a child being promised their greatest coveted prize. 

In a few hasty strides, you made your way back over to Doflamingo. He continued to kneel beneath you, cock still hanging limply over the waistband of his pants. You grimaced at the flaccid cock, noticing that its limp length was still well above the average size of the cocks you'd seen prior. 

You shook your head, taking Doflamingo's cheek in your palm and elevating his face to meet yours. Lips closing in a soft purse, you collected his plump lips beneath yours in a soft and tender kiss. Parting your lips, you gently grazed his mouth with a soft swirl of your tongue. He moaned against your lips, large hands perching on your hips and holding you firmly against him. 

Tilting your head, you bumped Doflamingo's chin with your own to deepen it. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to initiate how much emotion you were willing to press into him. His lips felt warm, encumbering and loving, something you were not expecting to experience from any encounter with the King of Dressrosa. 

Even though he had confessed his love for you, the softness he was presenting you with was foreign in comparison to his harsh dictatorship. You swirled your hands behind his head, massaging his scalp in soothing circles. A happy chirp fled from his lips to yours, his smile evident as his tongue collided with yours. 

Breaking away from his embrace, your hands raked through his blonde hair affectionately. He hummed up at you, his blonde eyelashes fluttering beneath his half-hooded eyes. 

“I'll cherish the gift of your lips always, mi amor,” he sighed up, the sparkle in his ruby gaze. That title snapped you away from your daze, shaking your head and once again grimacing. 

“Never call me ‘mi amor’ again, asshole,” you spat hastily, refusing to allow him a semblance of your heart, “I'm not your love, I'll never be your love. You're fucking pathetic, and I hate you.”