#non.con

“I’m scared…Daddy…please help me.”

Your skin is smooth under his gloved hands, this much he can tell; he could appreciate it if the circumstances had been different. But under these circumstances it is anything but arousing. This is business, nothing more. A show; for you, for your father, for his bosses, for anyone who watches this little video. He knows you are scared of him, scared of what he might do to you, how far he could go. But Sakazuki has no intentions of raping you. He does have very little qualms when it comes to various criminal acts but one thing he does not see any appeal in is forcing himself onto women. This does not mean he feels bad about traumatizing you, however. 

Your whimpering becomes louder when his hand travels underneath your shirt, his fingers following every little bump of your ribcage agonizingly slowly until they reach the wire of your bra. You squirm underneath him, calling out to your father as the fear of what must inevitably happen nestles in every fiber of your being. Sakazuki simply watches you through the small holes of his mask – the trademark mask that’s become famous over the decades and that’s been associated with the yakuza group he’s part of. He knows it strikes fear into the bones of anyone who sees it; it haunts the dreams of children and adults alike. 

He leans down on you, his weight pressing your body harder into the mattress and the cool plastic of the dog mask grazes the side of your face. You freeze, eyes wide open in fear, pupils blown wide, waiting for what will come next. His pelvis is pressing against your soft bottom; he is not hard but he doubts you’ll notice this, too preoccupied with the threat of violence alone through this gesture. You whisper a silent “please” only he can hear but it doesn’t reach his heart. 

Your pleas grow louder when his fingers probe alongside your bra, testing the resistance of it as he tries to nudge one finger between your skin and the wire. He can feel the soft underside of your right breast, the tip barely gracing it but he won’t go further. With a grunt he retrieves his hand and sits up straight again, his other hand slowly releasing your hair as well, then, he gets up and walks over to the phone and stops the video, leaving you a crying, sobbing mess. He turns his head to look at you; you are dry heaving and gasping for air but apparently your stomach is empty. Probably haven’t eaten anything today yet. Maybe he should bring you something later when you’ve calmed down. 

“Put your pants back on.” He tells you in his cold voice while he packs up the tripod and phone, then unlocks and opens the door to stow away the items. He opens a chat on a messenger app and sends the video. Now, his part is done for now and this means waiting for further instructions. He sees the small check indicating that the video has been received, then he turns off the phone, stowing it away in a bag from where he retrieves another phone. A quick look at the screen tells him he has two missed calls. He’ll call back when he has you tied to the bad again.

Sakazuki walks back to your room purposefully and finds you curled up in a corner, pants back up and arms wrapped tightly around your knees. You shriek when he takes two long strides over to you, grabs you again by your biceps and shoves you rudely back onto the bed. He contemplates to just tie you back to the bed by force but decides to give you a chance to comply. 

“Put your hands back up.” He orders, his tone leaving no room to argue. With slight hesitation and fearful eyes, you eventually do as he says and without any issues he ties the chain of the cuffs back to the bedpost. He ignores your trembling hands, there is nothing he can or wants to do about that. 

“Smart girl,” he praises you but the sarcastic tone in his voice is not lost on you. Yet, you keep your mouth shut, your eyes on him like a prey watching a predator. Without saying another word, he turns around and leaves your room again, mentally already at the phone call he is about to make. 

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You wake up from a nightmare with a scream; you can still feel the haunting touches on your body, how they grabbed you, how they ravage your skin with claws, their jaws tearing at your flesh, faceless monsters that threaten to devour you wholly. 

The room is dark, not even the street lights reach your room, the stars are covered by thick clouds and the rain is hammering against the window. 

It takes a moment for you to realize where you are but the cuffs around your wrists quickly remind you of the horror you had to endure. 

There is silence; no sound reaches your ears from beyond the closed bedroom door but there is a small ray of light coming through the space underneath the door. 

You face feels wet and sticky and you are sure that you’ve been crying in your sleep. It was a miracle you even managed to fall asleep in the first place but your body must’ve forced you into it as a reaction of all the stress. Your limbs feel stiff as you try to adjust your position and awkwardly sit up in the bed. You feel cold; there is no blanket nor a pillow nor seems to be any heating. You pull your legs to your torso to save some body heat but it is quite ineffective.

You wipe your face on your shoulder, trying to get rid of the itchy feeling of dried tears and snot from your skin, then blink a couple of times. Your eyes slowly start to get used to the darkness but it does nothing to help ease your churning mind. You lean your head against the wall and your hands grip your arms tightly, nails digging into your soft flesh. You feel helpless and alone and want nothing more than be at home with your parents, all of you cuddling together on the sofa as if this whole thing has never happened. But the reality is different. You have been kidnapped, humiliated, degraded, almost raped, and left to fend for yourself. You’ve never felt truly hopeless before but right now there is no other way to describe it. After all, being at the mercy of a man you do not know and who is a career criminal at that can only make you feel hopeless. 

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The door opens and you expect Akainu to enter but you are surprised to be greeted by a tall, slender looking man. You can’t make out his face as the light from the hallway blinds you but he appears to be wearing glasses. Instinctively, you press your body closer to the wall, trying to create distance between you and the new threat. 

“Oh my, what a tragic sight to behold.” He speaks slowly, almost dragging his words, as if this whole situation bores him. He slowly makes his way over to you, his hands holding a bottle of water with a straw and something else you can’t quite make out. The man sits down next to you nonchalantly and offers you the beverage. You look at him warily, waiting for him to say something, or rather to trick you and do god knows what to you. But he doesn’t. 

“Hmm, are you not thirsty?” he asks genuinely surprised yet there is something in his tone you can’t quite pinpoint out that makes you feel uneasy. You are completely out of your depth, didn’t expect this at all. Where Akainu seemed to be impatient and easily annoyed does this man seem to be the complete opposite, without any care in the world. Speaking of, where is this monster who tormented you earlier, anyway? You cautiously look past the man to the empty corridor, expecting Akainu to appear any moment. The man doesn’t follow your gaze, he just cocks his head to the side, beverage still in hand in front of you. 

“He had to go and take care of some business. I’ll keep you company in the meantime.” 

Your eyes dart back to him, not believing him a single word. He gives you a bad feeling. You don’t know what exactly it is; maybe the way he talks or the way he behaves but you already know he is not someone to be trusted lightly. Regardless, you do feel thirsty, now that you see the water right in front of you. After a second of contemplation, you reach out for the water with your bound hands and almost Immedeatly start downing the liquid. You hear him chuckle at that but otherwise he remains silent for now. When you emptied it, he takes the empty bottle away and instead offers you a melonpan. You devour it almost greedily and when you finish it you are not nearly satisfied, your stomach protesting at the minimal amount of food you have given it, demanding more. Your tongue licks the sugar from your licks, trying to get every last particle of food. 

“Seems like someone is hungry. Would you like another one?” Surprised by his question, you halt for a moment, then nod, not trusting your voice just yet. He grabs the wrapping paper, then stands up.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t want you to starve under my watch now, do I?” and with that, he saunters out of the room and along the hallway, leaving you confused but slightly more at ease there until his return. 

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Akainu returns the next evening to your dismay. However shady the other man – you still don’t know his name – is, you prefer his company over Akainu’s. He even let you go to the toilet by yourself and did not tie you back to the bedpost, he didn’t even lock the door when he brought you back to the room. Either his head is in the clouds or he simply doesn’t care. Either way, you appreciate the small extra freedom he had given you. He even gave you a blanket when you asked him. He tried to have small talk with you; you feared that, if you did not give him at least a little, he could take everything away from you again. So, you remained polite yet distant, trying not to upset the man. He asked you about your studies, your personal life, your dreams and whatnot. What creeped you out, however, was how much he already knew about you. Whenever you tried to tell him a lie, he would correct you which made you wonder for how long they’ve been spying on you and your family. It left a nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

You are dozing on the bed, already haunted by the same dream of the monsters in your sleep when you hear the apartment door slam shut and angry yelling coming from outside the bedroom. You immediately sit up straight, body tense in fear as you try to listen what he is so furious about. You can only hear the occasional word but miss the whole picture. Apparently, his subordinates messed up and he had to clean up after them. You remain silent, not wanting to attract his attention and possibly re-directing his anger at you. Who knows what he’d do to you. Also, you do not want to lose your new-found “freedom” and have him tie you to the bed post again. 

Your stomach sinks when you suddenly hear heavy footsteps approaching your room fast, then the door swings open and the monster of a man stands in the doorway. You freeze and hold your breath, hoping he’d simply overlook you but his eyes narrow. A second shadow appears behind him and Akainu looks at the other man. 

“Why the fuck is she not tied to the bed, Borsalino?!” he yells, he clenches his fists as if he wants to throw some punches; either at Borsalino or you. Your heart is hammering in your chest as you don’t dare to make a sound, hoping Borsalino would defend you in some way. 

“Oooh, now that you mention it. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He simply says, a lazy smile on his lips. Akainu’s hands twitch, ready to beat the living shit out of the other man. What shocks you the most, however, is the fact that Borsalino does not seem fazed in the slightest by Akainu’s reaction which makes you wonder how dangerous this man really is that he doesn’t seem to feel an ounce of fear in the face of this monster. 

“Quit fucking around. I know you did it on purpose.” Akainu presses out but he does not attack the other man. Instead, he focuses his attention back on you which makes you whimper just from his stare.  “Don’t be so harsh, Sakazuki, she’s been behaving splendidly while you were gone. Haven’t you, dear?” the last question is directed at you but your throat feels like it’s being choked and you can’t seem to form a single word, not even nod. 

“See how you’re scaring her? This is not very gentleman-like.” This is surreal; the way Borsalino seems to scold Sakazuki and how he still does not attack him. Either, they are good friends or Borsalino is just as much of a monster as Sakazuki.

“I told you to keep her restrained. Next time you disobey my orders there’ll be consequences.”

“Ooh, scary,” Borsalino raises his hands in mock-defeat but Akainu, despite being obviously furious with him, leaves it at that and instead marches over to you, grabs your handcuffs and ties you back to the bedpost. His brown eyes bore into you like drills and you feel how hot tears start to gather in your eyes. You can see it in his eyes that he wants to hurt you, hurt anyone really and you are glad he doesn’t for whatever reason. Without another word, he turns around and leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind him. 

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Borsalino seems to have left after that night and you are mostly left alone which you appreciate. Every once in a while, Sakazuki comes to look after you, even giving you water and food and giving you some privacy on the toilet without asking. But there is this tension between the two of you that keeps you on edge. You can see that he is angry; he is like a volcano, ready to erupt and destroy everything in his path. You are certain that it only needs a little push – a small rock that accidentally falls into the crate – until his wrath comes down on whoever is in his proximity. You just hope it won’t be you that’ll be destroyed. 

Whenever you see him, he spends a lot of time on his phone and each time his body tenses a little bit more. You are scared to ask him for food, for water, or to let you go to the toilet. Only when it becomes unbearable do you call for him. But besides being angry has he not done anything to you after your first night. You want to ask him what will happen to you, if he’ll let you free but you don’t, too scared to hear an answer you are not ready to hear. 

 Today marks the fourth night if you are correct. You dread every night anew, hoping your dreams won’t haunt you yet again though you know the beasts will come for you for the rest of your life. It is raining again and the sound of the rain drops tapping against your window makes you sleepy yet it also reminds you that you should go to the toilet before you go to sleep. You have no idea what time it is but you can still see the dim light from underneath the door shine into your room. Akainu is still awake. So, you call out for him. 

It takes three attempts to get his attention; he opens the door annoyed and with his phone pressed against his ear, his eyes piercing you like a dagger. Without a word and due to what could be assumed to be your routine by now, he unties you and rudely shoves you towards the door. You stumble but catch yourself before you hurry to the toilet. He doesn’t follow you; he speaks to the other person on the phone, pacing through the apartment, his tone becoming gradually angrier. You don’t want to piss him off even more, so you hurry out right after you’re done. But you don’t see him; he is not in the hallway. You should simply go back to you room and wait for him there but curiosity gets the better of you. 

You tippy-toe over the wooden floor and follow the sound of his voice. The hallway leads to a spacious yet unfurnished room which could potentially become a living room in the future. Akainu is standing with his back turned towards you as he rages on, berating whoever is on the other side of the line. The door to the apartment is to your right, about three steps. You contemplate if you could make it there without him noticing. You probably could given how preoccupied he is with the phone call. And then what? The door is probably locked and even if it isn’t, who says that you could actually run from him? The small light of hope that started to blossom in you is cruelly crushed by reality. 

You take a step back, ready to go back to the room when your heel bumps against a bag you didn’t see before. Sakazuki spins around, his eyes land on you in an instant. You freeze like a deer in headlight and watch as his already angry face becomes even darker at the realization that he wasn’t paying attention to you. His grip on the phone tightens and with horror you watch as it crushes the device with seeming ease until he lets it fall to the floor. 

You run back to your room as fast as you can, his heavy steps thundering through the apartment right behind you. You try to slam the door shut and push all your weight against it but he kicks the door open like it is nothing. You stumble forward and catch yourself on the bedframe before you climb onto it, hands held high in defense. You plead with him as he storms towards you, his breath heaving like an angry bull chasing a matador. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I swear,” you plea, bowing your head while you keep your hands above you, part as an apology and part as to protect yourself for any eventual punches. Sakazuki simply grabs both your hands in his and twists your wrists painfully, ready to snap some bones like he did with the phone. You scream in agony, looking at him through teary eyes, pleading for your life, apologizing for something that shouldn’t have been a crime in the first place. 

He is yelling at you but you can’t hear a word. The only thing in your mind is the pain and your survival. There is no way to calm him down for you; your pleas fall onto deaf ears and his own rage seems to blind him completely. Deep down, you know you are not the cause of his anger. You are simply the catalyst, the small rock that was carelessly kicked into the volcano and now you have to live with the consequences, have to find a way to escape your impending destruction, no matter the cost. 

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The stress and the bottled-up anger from the past couple of days, probably the past couple of months even, is now thrown directly at you. If he had been in a better mood, a better state of mind, a better whatever, he wouldn’t have attacked you, wouldn’t have let out his anger on you. But he isn’t. He is angry at his bosses for being incompetent, he is angry at his subordinates for messing up what should’ve been a simple task and for having him fix it, he is angry at Borsalino for never doing what he’s being told and he is angry at himself for letting all of this get to him, for not keeping a cool head. And then there is you; another nuisance he has to take care of because his bosses couldn’t even bribe the majority of politicians to do their bidding and now he and some others had to kidnap their family members, putting everyone at risk of exposure if one of the kidnapped decided to talk after their release after all. This could’ve all been avoided if they haven’t been so arrogant in the first place about their plan in the first place. For people who called themselves the Five Elders they sure as hell were quite stupid. 

He looks down at you with contempt but his grip on your hands loosens a bit until he lets go completely. Your look at him as if he wanted to kill you any moment, the fear palpable in your eyes, in your whole body. And maybe he would’ve killed you and if it was just to let all the stress out. He isn’t stupid, however. It would bring more problems as it would solve them. He just needs an outlet for his rage but in his current situation he doesn’t know where to focus his anger at. 

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath in, trying to sort his thoughts before he does something stupid. That’s why he is taken by surprise when he suddenly feels a pair of hands fondling with his belt. His eyes snap open and he watches in disbelief as you open it, your trembling hands immediately after reaching for the button of his pants, opening it, followed by his fly. It is as if he’s in shock, all the anger is blown away by confusion and amazement. What are you doing? You fumble to take out his limp dick; there is nothing erotic, nothing enticing about the way you do it. It looks methodical, almost robotic and the question of why you’re doing this is answered almost immediately – you are trying to calm him down. Under the stress he’s been feeling he didn’t even consider the stress you are under. Not, that it changes anything, but he can somewhat understand where you might be coming from. 

Your small hands wrap around the base of his dick while your tongue sheepishly peeks out from between your lips, testing the waters when you flick it against the tip. Your eyes dart up to his and he cocks his head to the side. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t know why he isn’t yelling at you. He can feel his blood rush slowly downwards, a reaction he cannot control. His hand finds the back of your head and he guides it. He watches as you take him in, your head bobbing forth and back, a steady rhythm that makes his muscles relax. He refrains from thrusting into your mouth, the occasional gag indication enough that he is already not a pleasant blowjob-experience for you. He wants to close his eyes, let all the stress from the past days, weeks, and months slowly wash from him but he can’t. Instead, he watches how small tears roll down your cheeks and disappear in the corners of your mouth where it is mixed with your saliva and him. 

I've been thinking about it.

Because for the longest time I've had this "fantasy" of being "molested" or even more... and I didn't know why that was so appealing to me, because why???? And they feel like very reprimandable thoughts. But I realized that I like the idea of it because it takes away the pressure of having to know what I'm supposed to do or think during a situation like that.

I've never done anything sexual with another person and I'm a suuuper anxious so in a weird way fantasizing about and reading "dub.con" or "non.con" is comforting in a weird way.

Idk (._. ) I guess I wanted to get this off my chest because it makes me feel bad.

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Sakazuki is in his car, driving aimlessly through the empty streets of Tokyo. Two of his subordinates are watching you. He didn’t tell them why he needed them to come take over for a moment; he doesn’t need to tell them. They merely have to obey. The grip on the steering wheel is tight, getting even tighter when he thinks back to you sucking him off. The tension you had temporarily sucked out of him now comes back, crashing down on him like a wave. Old anger is replaced by new anger, the source, however, is no you entirely. How dare you do something so bold, so…reckless? And how dare he be such a fucking degenerateand let you?! He’s not some stupid hormone driven teenager who can’t control his dick. He is fucking Akainu – a man who instills fear in his allies and enemies alike just with his mere presence. And yet, here he was, letting some dumb, spoiled brat catch him off guard with move like that. His jaw tightens. He can still feel the press of your tongue, the pull of your throat. The memory makes his stomach twist — not from guilt, but from disgust that it still makes his pulse jump.

His foot presses down on the accelerator, not minding the very few pedestrians that seem to be waiting for a taxi to take them back home because they missed the last train. Only when blue lights appear in his rear-view mirror does he slow down and eventually come to a stop at the side of the street. Shortly after, a police car parks behind him and two officers get out of the car. Sakazuki rolls down the window, his expression relaxed but the grip on the steering wheel tightens even more.

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Whenever he enters the room, you don’t dare to look at him. You keep your head low and your eyes directed on the floor when he leads you to the bathroom the next day. At one point during the night you had noticed two voices talking to each other outside the room and none of them sounded like Sakazuki. You had hoped that, for some reason, he didn’t feel comfortable enough around you anymore and told someone else to watch you. This gave you some kind of twisted satisfaction and you eventually managed to fall asleep. To your dismay, however, was Sakazuki the one who came into your room this morning, an unreadable expression on his face and a simple melon pan and water in his hands. Unceremoniously, he dropped it onto the bed before leaving immediately after. 

It feels like the day is dragging on forever; he barely visits, even less than before and you are left alone with your thoughts and the arching of your body, especially your arms and shoulders from the uncomfortable position you are being kept in. Since you haven’t drunk much, the need to go to the toilet is also quite low, giving him even less reason to come to you. It’s not as if you wanted his company, but being all by yourself, your dark thoughts the only thing keeping you company – you start to long for some form of human interaction, even if it is just his disapproving grunts when he leads you to the toilet. 

The human mind can be a cruel thing; no matter what you’re thinking about, you can’t help but start crying silently into the pillow. It doesn’t matter if you think about your current hopeless situation or back to the last time you talked to your mom, your dad, your friends, or your boyfriend. Tears of despair, anger, sadness – it doesn’t matter. In the end, you feel helpless and alone. And still, there is this small part inside of you that keeps pushing against your complete surrender to your situation and you’ll be damned if don’t keep this small flame alive.

Your eyes are red and burning when the door is opened the next time. You hide your face in the pillow and hope that Akainu would just leave whatever he brought on the bed, just like in the morning. To your surprise and shock, he wordlessly unties you – completely – and with a big hand around your biceps almost drags you off the bed and along the corridor. To your horror, he doesn’t lead you to the toilet but to the bathroom. Flashbacks from last night dance in front of your eyes, your body tenses and you instinctively resist, trying to wiggle your arm free from his vice grip. But it only leads to him grabbing your flesh even tighter before shoving you into the wet room. 

“You smell. Clean yourself.” Is all he says before closes the door, leaving you alone in the brand new wet room. You stare at the door, eyes wide in fear and disbelief. Surely, he’ll come right back once you turn the water on, right? But you can hear his heavy footsteps walking away. Still, you don’t trust him. With shaky hands you open the door, your heart is hammering in your chest and you almost can’t hear anything else besides your heart beat. With trembling hands, you push the door slightly open to peek outside. Your eyes roam the empty hallway and you are ready to close the door again when you hear the quiet sound of a sliding door being opened and then closed again. Right, there is a balcony in the living room. 

Without thinking, you sneak out of the wet room, body pressed flat against the wall behind you as you inch your way over to the living room. And there he is – outside on the balcony, a cigarette in one hand and an apparently new phone in the other. His fingers are swiftly tapping against the screen before he holds the phone to his ear, his back turned towards you and his body overlooking the city. You can’t believe what is happening. Your eyes dart over to the closed apartment door. Now, that you think about it, you never checked if the door was truly locked. It would be stupid, if not at least reckless of him to not have any precautions but maybe he underestimated you or overestimated himself. 

You feel the small flame inside of you growing by the second, pushing you to take the risk and try your luck. What’s the worst that could happen? The door is locked. He sees you. He gets angry. He yells at you. He forces himself on you. But how would you feel if you didn’t try it? You hate this feeling of helplessness, of not being in control of your situation, of only reacting and not acting. For once since your abduction you want to feel like you have a choice; not one that was forced onto you by fear but one you made consciously and being fully aware of the consequences. 

Your eyes dart back to the man outside who seems to be having an animated conversation with the recipient of this call. It is now or never. The door to the balcony is not completely shut, so you still need to be quiet. You take a deep breath, then you slowly put one foot in front of the other, one deliberate step after the other. Your eyes are trained on Sakazuki’s muscular back, not letting him out of your sight for a single second. The closer you get to the door, the more anxious you feel that he might spot you. Every moment, you are sure he will turn around and see you; he might even throw his phone at you to stop you. But he doesn’t. 

Your right hand reaches for the cold door know, the other to the lock above it. Quietly, you unlock the door (thank God for those Japanese apartment doors that are very easy to unlock from the inside), then you twist the knob. The second lock in the know unlocks with a quiet metallic click, then the door opens. For a moment, you are stupefied. How could this be so easy? Idiot, you think to yourself as you look back to Sakazuki one final time before dashing out of the apartment and to your freedom. 

The smell of a newly built building hits you even more than in the apartment as you run along the empty hallway towards the door you assume leads to the stairwell. You pass two elevators but they don’t seem to be working yet. Plus, you don’t know if Sakazuku will come sprinting out of the apartment at any moment so waiting for an elevator would be more than stupid. You swing the door open and luckily see the staircase that leads to both the lower and upper levels. With a quick look over your shoulder you confirm that he apparently hasn’t noticed you escaping yet, then you hurry down the steps, taking two steps at a time sometimes. You stumble every now and again but you manage to catch yourself, the adrenaline keeps you going even with your lungs burning from exhaustion. 

You start at the tenth floor. By the time you reach the third floor, you can already smell freedom. You think about the first thing you will do once you’re out of here which will be to run straight to the police and get this motherfucker arrested. Fear for this man is replaced by schadenfreude when you think about the day he will be sentenced to prison and will never see the light of day as a free man ever again. Serves him right for what he did to you, for what he put you through. 

You reach ground level and push the door open. The lobby of the building is spacious and long but empty. Without thinking, you dash across the marble floor towards the door. Locked. Your hands bang against the glass door but it wouldn’t break. Now slightly panicked, you look around and see another hallway. Next to the door is a small sign which tells you it leads to the underground garage. You have no choice but to try it. With heavy legs and exhaustion clawing at your body you jog into the dark corridor, one hand against the wall while the other is stretched out in front of you in case you are about to run into another wall. 

It feels like forever until you finally make it into the garage. There is not artificial light but somewhere from the far end you can see a faint ray of light coming from presumably outside. If you are lucky, you can escape from here. You do not allow yourself to take a quick rest and you push your body forward towards the light – towards hope. 

“Hey! Who are you?” you stumble over your own feet to the sound of that unfamiliar voice. For a moment, you want to turn around and run away from the approaching figure steps into your line of sight, most likely having entered through the garage ramp. The light of a flashlight hits your face and you squint your eyes at the sudden brightness. You raise your hands in defense but you are too exhausted to run away.

“What are you doing down here? This is a construction site. It’s dangerous!” the man reprimands you and it slowly sinks in that he must be one of the construction workers. You can’t say how relieved you are feeling when you are finally able to look into the unfamiliar face of this middle aged man with a grey helmet on. Without thinking, you jump into his arms and wrap your own around his neck, ugly-crying into his vest. Taken by surprise, he lets you, frozen in place and unable to comprehend what’s going on. 

You thank him over and over again, your voice muffled by his clothes. A hesitant hand pats the back of your head and for a moment you imagine that he is your father who came to safe you. 

“E-easy there, miss. What is going on?” there is audible hesitation in his voice while he gently tries to make you look at him. You look up, vision blurry from all the tears of relief and snot running down your nose. 

“Please, we have to leave.” You press out, accompanied by small hiccups. 

“Please, calm down, miss. Why do we have to leave?” he gently pushes you away from him to take a better look at you. His flashlight is directed at your torso so he doesn’t blind you but can take a closer look. He audibly gasps at your disheveled appearance but he tries to keep his shock to himself. 

“T-there is a-a man in the building. He kid-kidnapped me and held me here. Please, we have to go!” you plead with him while you grab his arm and try to lead him towards the way he just came from. But he is hesitant and you lose your grip on his arm. 

“Please! We have to go!” 

You can’t see his face clearly but you can make out that he is contemplating what you are saying. Frustration and anger grow inside of you with every second he waits. Why was he not believing you? You take a step back, ready to run even without him, one last pleading look in your eyes. You watch him shift, his head tilting to the side just a bit, then – 

BANG.

Your whole body jerks from the sound, the echo piercing marrow and bone. For a long moment, nothing happens. It is, as if the world stands still. Your head is empty except for the resounding bang that settles down like an unwelcome, creepy uncle at family dinner. It gives you the chills and the feeling that something awful just happened settles in. You didn’t know you were holding your breath but you are suddenly awoken from your stupor when his body hits the ground with a dull thud, the flashlight rolling out of his hand, the beam of light dancing along the concrete floor. 

You scream. At least you think you are. Your mouth is open but you can’t hear a thing. Your eyes are trained on the lifeless body in front of you, the flashlight partially illuminating the man’s face. A small trickle of blood is running down his face and drips onto the concrete, the lifeless eyes open, starring right at the ceiling with the same confusion in them from when he saw the person behind you.

A big hand is wrapped around your mouth and you are pressed against an iron hard body. Nails dig into your cheeks and moist breath tickles your ear. 

“Look what you did,” he sounds angry, furious even. He is trying to contain his anger but it is radiating off of him like radioactive material. You struggle against his iron grip but his nails dig into your flesh even angrier as if they wanted to pierce you. 

Sakazuki shifts behind you; the metallic sound of a gun being shoved back into his waistband has your blood run cold. He shot someone. He killed a man! An innocent man who had nothing to do with everything! Dread spreads through your body as realization hits you. “Look what you did.”

Yes, you did this. He is dead because of you. You killed him. If you just hadn’t approached him and just kept running, if you just hadn’t gone to the garage in the first place and tried to break the glass of the front door instead, if you just hadn’t tried to escape in the first place, this man would still be alive. 

Sakazuki lets go of your face and roughly twists your arms behind your back. You are too far gone to resist and so you let him handcuff you again, the cold metal being unnecessarily tight around your wrists and dig into your already abused skin. His vice-claw like hand grabs the back of your neck and he almost forcefully has to drag you away from the body.

“Don’t even try to make a fuss, missy. Believe me, I’ll put you there with him.” He means it. You can feel it to your bone. You messed up. You had your chance, you screwed up royally and now you have to live with the consequences, whatever they might be. 

He leads you to the ramp leading outside but stops at the bottom. Sakazuki checks his phone for service before dialing a number. He doesn’t say much. Just the address (though you are too scared to even try and remember a single number) and where they should go. He ends it with “clean up everything; body, car, everything you can find,” then he hangs up. 

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You have completely misjudged this man. Sure, his anger was scary enough but in your sheltered little mind have you never really thought about him being able to kill someone, let alone you. But now, you are more terrified than ever. The image of the construction worker – his limp body, the blood, and dead eyes – is haunting you. But what’s worse is the guilt you feel. You are the reason this good man is dead. Does he have a wife? Children? What will they do now that he is gone? Will they even know what happened or will he just be another missing person?

Sakazuki shoves you back into the apartment and slams the door shut behind him, his hand never leaving your neck, his nails digging into your soft skin just like before. You feel somewhat light-headed; the pressure is making it difficult for your blood to reach your brain. He only notices it whenever you are about to pass out on the way, then his grip eases just the tiniest bit to keep you awake. 

Back in your room, he shoves you onto the bed. There is silence for a moment, you don’t dare to turn around, let alone look at him. But he breaks this silence with his gruff voice.

“Look at me,” he demands. You don’t want to; you can’t stomach to look at the man who could kill another person just like that without a second thought. His impatient exhale through his nose forces you to turn your head towards him regardless. 

Slap.

Stunned, you can only look at him with wide eyes, lips slightly agape but no sound is leaving them. The hot burn slowly spreads across your cheek. The sound was far from the one the gun made in the garage but the echo still rings in your ears. The first thing that comes to your mind after he just slapped you is humiliation. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap (though it still hurt) nor do you think it will leave a lasting mark but just the fact that he slapped you like a pimp his whores has new tears welling up in your eyes. And you can’t even put a hand against your cheek to soothe the pain since both your hands are still tied behind your back. 

Without another word, he grabs your hair and pulls you towards the head of the bed, leaving you in a sitting position as he somewhat clumsily ties your tied hands back to the bed, this time not giving you another option but to sit there, with your arms twisted behind your back and no room to move or adjust your position. Then, he leaves.

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He doesn’t trust you anymore. Not, that he trusted you in the first place, but now he trusts you even less. You have no privacy, not even when you go to the toilet or when he has you take a shower; he is always there. He isn’t outright watching you but you still feel naked even with his back turned towards you. And even then, you can feel how he looks over to you every now and then to make sure you are not doing anything stupid, especially since, in these situations, your hands are untied. Why he lets you take a shower in the first place is beyond you but you suppose you must smell pretty badly. Not that you care, anyway. He even placed a single chair next to your bed to feed you like an animal, not allowing you the freedom to move or even do it yourself. It is humiliating, degrading and downright disgusting. But you are too scared to say anything. The fear of ending up like that man has settled into your body and won’t let you go. Every encounter with him you survive is a win for you. 

The incident happened on the fourth night, the killing the day after. It is now the sixth day being prisoned by him – by the yakuza – and you are at your end. Everything hurts; your body feels numb from all the awkward sitting you had to do, your shoulders are strained, and your hands fall numb whenever you don’t move them for a longer time. He can see that you are in discomfort, that you are almost at your breaking point. He doesn’t care. You have used up what little patience he had left with you the moment you stepped outside this apartment. You are defeated. Or so you think. 

Sakazuki enters your room for what might be the final time for the day. The usual sight of the melon pan and bread makes you feel nauseous; if you came out of this alive you swear you would never touch one of those disgusting melon pans ever again. He settles down on his chair and without saying a word he rips open the plastic wrap and holds the sweet bread in front of your mouth. You hesitate, but eventually open your mouth in defeat and take a small bite from the pastry. You are sick of the taste so you chew slowly. To your surprise, he doesn’t reprimand you to eat faster; he simply sits there and watches you eat. 

As much as you fear, no, hate him, as much have you become accustomed to his presence. You are trapped here in this room all by yourself probably 23 hours a day, with him only coming once every couple of hours. So, naturally, he is also the only source of human contact you can get. It feels lonely in here and though you would never admit it, even someone like Akainu can become a constant in your life, given the circumstances. 

You take another bite and secretly watch him. He is leaning forward, both elbows resting on his legs while he watches you in return; he looks tired and his shoulders seem to be tense. A small spark of schadenfreude fills you at the thought that he has stress because of you, even when you are tied up. Throughout the day you heard him talking on the phone to various people, each time getting seemingly more agitated. But now, he just looks…exhausted. Must be hard to be heartless gangster….

He shifts in his seat and cracks his neck, reminding you of your own uncomfortable situation. You try to shift yourself but to very little avail. You contemplate in your mind what you should do, fear and courage having a battle in your heart but ultimately courage wins. You take a deep breath in and raise your head to face him head on. 

“C-could you please….untie me? It hurts.” There is silence and your heart skips a beat. Then a single “no” crushes your hopes. You press your lips together when he lightly pushes the bread against them, but then you take another bite. While you are chewing, you think back to two nights ago. The images still haunt you, not only in your sleep but also when you are awake though the cold-blooded murder has taken over a big chunk of your thoughts. Now, that you think about it, he seemed to be more lenient afterwards; he even told you to take a shower and he left you alone, not like the second time. It was your own stupidity that led you in this situation. 

You feel how your throat starts to tighten and it seems harder to breathe. Your ears and neck start to prickle at just the mere thoughts you are thinking right now. You look up at him again, your heart is racing in your chest. 

“You must be tired.” It is a simple statement that obviously catches Sakazuki off guard. He is silent for a moment, then he tilts his head to the side.

“Now, why would you care if I was tired,” he asks. You bite the inside of your cheek, contemplating if you should elaborate or just leave it at that. 

“I could give you…a massage. My…my boyfriend said I give good back massages.” You are not sure why you mention your boyfriend but it earns you an amused huff from the man in front of you.  “Well, if your boyfriend said it, it must be true, right?” Sakazuki leans back in his chair, thick thighs slightly spread as he scrutinizes you. Your face heats up and you avert your gaze.

“It was merely a suggestion,” you mumble, humiliation burning on your cheeks. 

The tension between you two thickens until it is almost suffocating you. Sakazuki doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even move. Out of the corner of your eyes you can see his eyes piercing you like daggers trying to pry open your brain and listen in to your thoughts. You want to sink into a hole and die there out of sheer embarrassment from what you just said. Sure, you didn’t say anything inappropriate, really, but Sakazuki is not stupid. Judging by the shift of his muscles underneath the shirt you know he is even more tense than before. He knows the insinuation of your suggestion, even without you having to spell it out for him. There is also always the sense of deniability, that you never meant to offer him that. But the fact he hasn’t put you in your place makes your heart race in your chest and the blood is rushing in your ears. 

You wet your lips, licking away the sugar from the bread in the process and tasting the sweet on your tongue. You hear him exhale through his nose once, then, without another word, he leans back forward, places the rest of the melon bread next to you, pulls out a small key from his trouser pants and unclicks the handcuffs around your wrists. You flinch at the contact of skin on skin when his hand grabs one of your wrists to get better access to the cuffs but you stay silent. Once the cuffs are undone, he leans back in his seat slowly, his eyes never leaving you, and places both of his hands on his massive thighs. 

You wince when you pull your arms forward and stretch them, but it feels good to be able to move them again without any restraints. You try to ignore his gaze while you massage your own shoulders – first the right one then the left one. The strain on your joints had become almost unbearable and it takes you a while to get used to the freedom again. However, in the back of your mind your proposal is ever so present. You offered him a massage. You wonder if he is truly expecting one or if he is under the assumption that you just said it to get him to unlock the handcuffs. You want to just ignore him, use up what little time of freedom he gave you before he gets tired of it and ties your hands back again. 

You shift uncomfortably on the bed, your eyes shift to the half eaten melon pan next to you. Maybe you should start eating that thing before you do anything else. It’d be reasonable, wouldn’t it? For you to first finish eating. But is Sakazuki a reasonable person? Honestly, after yesterday, you don’t know. He is a dangerous man but ever since yesterday he is more than that – he is a monster. Or so you tell yourself. 

Then why do you catch yourself slowly inching off the bed? You don’t dare to look up but out of the corner of your eyes you can see both his hands clench into fists to the point where his knuckles turn white. You take a deep, silent breath in before you push yourself off the bed and with your head low you slowly make yourself around his chair until you stand behind him. Even when sitting is he almost as tall as you. He turns his head slightly to keep you in his peripheral vision but he doesn’t stop you. You are unsure of what to do even though you know what you are supposed to do. This is just surreal. Why doesn’t he stop you? Even when your hands reach out for his shoulder, hesitantly placing them against his body. You can feel his muscles tense under your palms but he still doesn’t stop you. 

You take another deep breath in before you let your thumbs dig into the hard tissue, feeling the small knots underneath his skin. You weren’t lying when you said your boyfriend liked your massages. When you were younger, you often helped your mother relax after a stressful day by giving her a back massage. She never asked you for it but you wanted to do something for her. A weird thing for a child to do, now that you think about it. Nowadays your boyfriend is the one who benefits from this the most.

Your hands move along the knots – one at a time – but you make sure to stay clear of any ‘critical’ area; you don’t go too low nor do you move beyond his shoulders towards his chest area. You strictly keep to his shoulders and upper back. While your fingers dig into his skin you notice just how trained he is. Even the muscles in his neck seem to be able to pull a car if he so chooses to. You don’t know his age but suppose he’s around fifty. For a man his age he takes good care of his body. It still doesn’t change the fact that you would much rather be anywhere else but here. 

Caught up in your own thoughts you notice too late when he lifts his hand and grabs your right hand a little too roughly. Instinctively, you try to jerk away but his grip doesn’t budge. You stare at the back of his head, your heart is hammering in your chest while your free hand unconsciously digs deeper into his shoulder. He doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t need to. The heat he radiates seems to have gotten hotter to the point where it feels like it is almost burning your skin. He readjusts his position a little, spreading his legs just a tiny bit wider and the grip around your wrists eases though he doesn’t release you. 

You know what he wants, what he expects of you but he doesn’t force you. You wonder if he’d let you be if you just crawled back on the bed and tell him to leave. He didn’t force himself onto you the last time and he hasn’t done it just yet so maybe you could get out of this without a scratch and your dignity still intact. You carefully pull your hand out from his grip, his calloused hand leaving goosebumps where it grazes against your skin. You should walk past him, you should get back on the bed, quickly finish the bread and let him tie you up again and leave you alone. So many “shoulds”. 

Your head starts spinning when your knees hit the floor, his legs caging you like a trapped animal. You dare to take a quick look at him, the surprise of your action very visible on his face. Obviously, he did not think you’d do it, confirming your suspicion that he would’ve left you alone if you had told him no. But you didn’t. Even now you don’t do the logical thing and get up again, rather the contrary. Your eyes shift back to what is right in front of you. You wonder if the bulge in front of you is a natural reaction to your massage. Maybe he wanted you to stop because he was getting too bothered by it, maybe it wasn’t a demand to “help him out” after all but to simply get his body back under control. Now, you feel stupid and ashamed and dirty for thinking that’s what he wanted. So, you just kneel there, face hot and hands clenched into fists at your side. 

A big hand grabs your chin and you are forced to look up at him again. He stares right into your eyes; there is a battle going on behind his brown eyes, you can tell. You just don’t know what the fight is about. 

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and slightly pulls it down. You let him, tasting the salt on his skin, too scared to push him away. His jaw clenches and his free hand massages the bridge of his nose. While he closes his eyes for a moment to think, you let your eyes dart back down to his crotch. Your breath catches in your throat when you see him shift ever so slightly to find a more comfortable position. The fabric of his pants stretches seemingly uncomfortably across his restraint member. 

You count to three mentally, then you place your hands on his thighs. His eyes snap open and the grip around your chin tightens. Your body tenses for a moment, then you let your hands wander closer to his crotch. They tremble when they reach their destination. He is hot underneath the fabric and twitches slightly under your touch. He lets go of you and simply stares at you in disbelief while you clumsily open his pants. It is difficult to pull them down to the point where you can pull him out but when you do your face heats up once more. 

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When you wrap your lips around his dick it is not different to last time. The warmth of your wet cave envelopes him and lulls him into this false sense to relax for a moment. But he can’t. Never completely. There is always one part of his brain working, even while being pleasured by a woman more than half his age. Your right hand is stroking the base of his dick while the other one claws at his thigh for support. Your eyes are closed while you move your head up and down, your quiet pants mix together with the wet sound your mouth makes. He wonders why you’re doing this. Sure, you’re scared for your life, especially after he shot that guy. But no rational person would come to the conclusion that sucking off their kidnapper was a smart idea. But then again, the emphasis is on the word rational. You, however, are not rational at the moment. He can’t blame you. Being kidnapped, witnessing a murder, getting intimate with him, however the circumstances, and all in the span of a week. No wonder you resorted to the one thing that made him relax the last time. 

His hips jerk upwards involuntarily and you choke around him. Tears gather in your eyes but you don’t stop. 

“Good girl,” he mumbles under his breath while he brushes some lose strands of hair out of your face. You lift your eyes to look up at him, holding his gaze while your movements become slower until you halt completely. He looks down at you while you look up at him, his cock buried deep in your mouth. You tense when he lifts his hand and places it on top of your head. His nails scrape over your skull lightly before he encourages you with a slight tug at your hair to continue. 

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You break the eye contact, too embarrassed to keep looking at the man you are currently giving head and instead close your eyes. You want to focus on something else – anything, really – but the sheer size of him in your mouth makes it almost impossible. When you started, you weren’t even sure if he liked it. He doesn’t make a single sound beside the occasional hiss. As sick as it sounds but when he encouraged you to keep going just now, your heart skipped a tiny bit. You chide yourself for this reaction but you guess it is better than being reprimanded for being terrible at it. 

The hand on your head tightens into a fist every now and then, pulling at your hair in the process but other than that he is surprisingly….passive. You don’t know what to make of it. It’s not that you are complaining about it but it makes you feel uneasy. If you were to compare him with your boyfriend you could see a huge difference in their behavior. Whereas your boyfriend is more vocal, more relaxed, Sakazuki is controlled and tense. You don’t know why, but it creates a queasy feeling in your stomach. The way his eyes are on you the entire time; you can feel them even if you can’t see them. You are like a prey trying to amuse the predator so he doesn’t eat you alive. 

The strain on your jaw keeps growing and your tongue is going numb. After last time, you had hoped it would be over rather quickly too, but apparently, he has more self-control this time. You don’t want to think about the possibility that he wants to drag this out as much as possible. Or what if, after all, you’re not good enough? What if he gets bored of your technique? Should you up your game? But he is already hard to swallow as it is, you can’t do much more. Your fingers dig into his thigh as panic and anxiousness start to settle in. You need to do more. You need to please him. This man killed someone for no reason, what if he does the same to you? 

You don’t notice how your hand around the base of his dick tightens to the point where a low growl rumbles in his chest and the first in your hair tightens as a warning. 

“Careful there.” His voice is deep, warning you with a dangerous edge in it. You loosen your grip immediately and open your eyes. You move your head back and slowly let his dick leave your mouth until only his tip is between your lips. Your tongue swirls over the slit before you release it, his precum smearing against your lips. 

Sakazuki’s eyebrows knit together in confusion because you stopped. For a moment, you just sit there, his wet member right in front of your face, your hand still around his base, lazily stroking him, his hand weighing heavy on your head, while you muster up the courage to take the next step. 

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You let go of his dick. Slightly displeased, he grumbles in response. You tense, but after taking in a quick breath, you push yourself up, using his thighs for support. His hand glides down from your head and back on his thigh while you raise up to your full height, now being slightly taller than him. You don’t look at him, your eyes are averted to the side and your hands nervously fiddle with the hem of your shirt. Are you really just going to stop and leave him like this? The audacity leaves him angry and impressed at the same time. He wouldn’t have thought you’d have the gall to do that but apparently, he was wrong. His teeth start to grind in frustration and he is ready to tie you back to the bed again right here and now. He halts. Then, his eyes grow even wider than before. 

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You can feel his frustration with you when you just leave him hanging like this; it radiates off of him like poisonous gas, ready to suffocate you. But what you do next blows away this gas at once and you are met with disbelief. Your hands find the hem of your shirt and before you can change your mind, you pull it up and over your head, letting it drop down to the floor where it will be forgotten. You don’t dare to look into his eyes; the shame is painfully obvious in your face anyway and you don’t need nor want to see his closer reaction; at best it could be amusement, at worst….

Almost frantically, you open the button of your pants and pull them down, awkwardly stepping out of each leg and kicking the trousers to the side as well where they join your shirt. Out of your peripheral vision, you can see him shift, his gaze burning into your exposed skin like a torch. You close your eyes to compose yourself, before you hesitantly reach behind your back and unclasp the bra. With a trembling hand, you hold the fabric in place while your free arm slips out of it, you then change hands and do the same with the other side. It takes all your courage to let go of the last piece of clothes that is covering your upper body but you force your hand to open and so, your bra drops to your feet. Your arms are covering your bare chest and you can feel tears dwelling up in your eyes. There is only one thing left. 

Your head is spinning when you carefully remove your arms from your chest, exposing your breasts to the man in front of you. You don’t want to – you really don’t – but your hands, instead, find the waistband of your panties. Your fingers slip between the fabric but you can’t bring yourself to bare your body to him completely. This is the last bit of privacy that is left. Revealing your most intimate part, showing him yourself in your most vulnerable form seems like a betrayal on yourself. 

You exhale when you feel your panties sliding down your legs. Now, it’s too late. There is no going back. You pause, then, your eyes find his. He doesn’t look amused. He doesn’t look angry either. He looks concentrated but there is this undeniable heat in his gaze that makes you shiver. He is sitting straight on his chair, his right hand is absentmindedly stroking his thigh while the other is clenched into a fist. His lips are pressed together tightly and you can see his jaw working underneath the tissue. The longer he just stares into your eyes, the more uncomfortable you feel. You want to yell at him to say something or to take your clothes and quickly dress yourself again but you are like a deer in headlight, completely unable to move. 

It shouldn’t feel this way, but it somewhat comes as a relief when he finally breaks eye contact. This feeling of relief is quickly replaced with unease, however, when his eyes start to take in every single inch of your exposed body. His gaze leaves a prickling trail on your skin, starting with your neck, your collarbones, your breasts, your stomach until finally your exposed womanhood. His eyes linger there longer than you would’ve liked and you have the urge to cover yourself. 

You almost stumble over your own feet when Sakazuki finally moves. His massive body is set in motion when he slowly heaves himself off the chair into a standing position. He is towering over you, his own body only a couple of centimeters away from yours. You don’t plan on looking at him but your body moves on its own when you crane your neck to look up at him. His eyes are hooded and his pupils are blown wide. You know what this means. You woke the sleeping lion and now he is here to consume you. 

You swallow hard when Sakazuki takes a step forward; you instinctively take a step back. Then, another step forward from him, another step back from you. Until you bump against the bed with the back of your leg. His hands reach up to his own shirt. You can’t help but watch as he opens each button deliberately, revealing more and more skin before he lets the shirt fall to the floor. Your eyes are wide at the sight. 

You haven’t thought about it before, especially since his body has always been covered by his clothes but it makes sense now that you see it. Tattoos. All over his body; starting at his collarbone and disappearing into the waistband of his pants. An ensemble of flowers, demons, waves and other symbols adorns his muscular body. Under different circumstances, you could’ve appreciated them more but right now it only showcases again that this man is not your friend. 

You jerk involuntarily when you suddenly feel his warm touch against your skin on your hip. His hand is big and rough and it leaves a trail of gooseflesh wherever he touches. It travels up your side, only barely grazing against your breast, before it closes around your throat. Your breath hitches in fear when he presses down ever so slightly; not enough to choke but enough to make your heart race. Another terrifying thought crosses your mind. What if he doesn’t like what he sees? What if he doesn’t find you attractive and now wants to end it? Maybe you have upset him with your audacity to assume he’d find you in any shape or form interesting?

With eyes wide open in fear, you look at the yakuza, holding your breath in the process. Then, he almost gently pushes you back, silently ordering you on the bed. You sit down, throat tight even though his hand is not around you anymore. Your eyes follow him slightly surprised when he suddenly leaves the room, leaving your sitting like this, naked and confused. What is he doing? Maybe he decided to call this whole thing off in the last second? But you are gravely disappointed when shortly after he returns, holding a small square piece of plastic in his hand. First, you are unsure what it is. Then, your eyes grow wide in disbelief at the realization. 

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He had bought the pack on a whim after his encounter with the cops the other night. Even while he was paying for them he felt stupid and agitated. What was he even thinking? He had plenty of those things at home – not that he used them particularly often, his desire for intercourse was fairly limited after all – but some small, nagging part of his mind told him better safe than sorry. Now, he was glad he bought them.

Judging by your face, you hadn’t even thought about protection when you started undressing for him. It was pretty reckless of you to just give him a blowjob in the first place, but full on intercourse with a man you don’t know? How naïve and childish of you. One more reason why he usually preferred more mature women. 

He rips the plastic open and pull out the condom from the wrapper. He quickly looks at you, then nods to the bed.

“Lay down,” it’s the first thing he says in a long time and the monotone voice catches you off guard. You hesitate, but eventually slowly crawl onto the bed completely, your eyes never leaving him as he casually rolls the thin protective layer over his penis. 

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You feel incredibly stupid when you see him returning with a condom. Obviously, you did not consider the fact that protection might be warranted in a situation like this. But to your own defense, you had been preoccupied with other things, mainly survival. Then again, the more you think about it, the more disturbing the situation becomes. Why does he have condoms? Is it a coincidence or did he bring them “just in case”? The thought of him bringing them preemptively lets your stomach sink. Even more so when he tells you to lay down. 

Cold sweat starts to cover your skin like a blanket while you slowly inch completely onto the bed, your eyes following the controlled movement of his hands while he rolls down the condom. His pants are still hanging from his hips though a little lower to have enough room for his dick. He lifts his gaze to meet your own while you are awkwardly sitting on the mattress. He tilts his head to the side, then, with the precision of a jaguar ready to jump its prey, he takes a step forward, then another, before he places one knee on the edge of the mattress. You can’t breathe, you can’t move. You can only watch as his other knee joins the first, one hand lazily stroking his member while his hooded eyes pull you into the void. 

His aura alone forces you to sink back into the mattress, your eyes never leaving his while he is towering above you, one hand placed right next to your face while his other one moves from his member to your thigh. Your body jerks involuntarily to the touch of his almost burning hand on your skin. You feel helpless as he caresses the soft flesh and you squeeze your legs together instinctively. The small hair on your body stand up straight as a cold shudder runs up your spine. You suddenly feel very cold, a coldness that comes from within yourself that lets you shiver. 

His hand travels upwards, his long fingers digging into your tissues as if they were trying to feel every millimeter of your soft body. His nails scrape over your butt and you close your eyes; you can’t endure his piercing gaze any longer, not while he is touching you. You tell yourself to calm down but the heart in your chest has other plans, ready to burst through your ribs and run off, far away from this place. 

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Sakazuki is not stupid; he can see that you are more than uncomfortable. And yet, you still haven’t told him to stop. Fear makes people do stupid, irrational things. For a moment, he wonders if you’d consider this rape. 

You press your legs together, even tighter when you notice his hand traveling from your ass over your hipbone and closer and closer to the part of your body you so desperately try to hide. He watches your face closely as his finger slips between your thighs and finds the small nub. You gasp when he presses down, then makes slow, circling movements. There is a whole war going on inside of you; the side that wants to fight him, to push him away and be unbothered by him – your mind. Your body, on the other hand, is telling a different story. It’s simple biology, he’s aware of that, but when he feels the first drop of you coating his finger it makes his dick twitch. The way you must feel so conflicted right now while he, some old man, is making your pussy react to his ministration – it surely must be frustrating. 

Now that he thinks about it, when was the last time he actually took his time with a woman? He’s not an entirely selfish lover but he prefers to get to the main part quickly to get it over with. Maybe he has become soft after all these years? Or maybe he just enjoys making you squirm…

He is taken by surprise when you all of a sudden grab his wrist, eyes wide with panic and stare right at him. He halts while his finger is partially buried between your lips. Is this too real for you now? Is this your breaking point?

“Wait!” your chest is heaving and he’s a little afraid you might pass out if you continue like this. 

“You don’t want me to prepare you,” he asks dryly, now catching you off guard. Your face is flustered while you stammer a response.

“I…you…that- that’s not it.” He knows what you mean. But he has only that much patience and at one point you have to live with the consequences of your own actions. He’ll give you one last chance to end this but the beast inside of him is ready to burst out. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you are stunned by this question and don’t know what to say. You just stare at him blankly. When you open your mouth, he presses his finger against your clit once more, eliciting a breathy moan from your small body. He knows it’s a dirty trick, but so what? He would stop if you told him to outright but that doesn’t mean that he won’t try to manipulate you. After all, a horny woman is a stupid woman and a stupid woman won’t say no. 

.

You don’t want to be affected by him; you wish you could just tell him to leave you alone and rub one out in the toilet if he was that horny. But you can’t. You blame the fear of what he’d do to you if you told him that, indeed, you wanted him to stop. But in reality you can’t deny how your belly has been tingling since he started down there. You hate yourself for it and you curse yourself for even responding in the first place. You have read that this is a completely biological reaction but still – how could your own body betray you like this? 

You feel the muscles in his forearm shift under his skin when he starts to rub your clit, smearing your juice over your skin and suddenly it seems incredibly difficult to have a coherent thought. Tears of frustration gather in the corner of your eyes as you battle with your own demons. You look at him desperately, hoping he would find it in his heart to stop himself, to just leave you alone and never speak of it again, but he doesn’t. Defeated, you slowly let go of his wrist and close your eyes before you open your legs ever so slightly. You hate yourself for it — and you hate that a tiny ripple of pleasure shivers down your thighs even as your throat tightens with shame.

Sakazuki has pushed your legs apart to get better access; two of his long, thick fingers are pumping into you while the heel of his hand presses against your clit. You don’t look at him, your head is turned to the side and your hands are grabbing the pillow for some sort of support while you can only listen to the wet sound your body makes in response to his ministration. You try to control yourself but you can’t help the occasional jerk of your hips against his touch nor the mewls of hot pleasure that make it past your closed lips. 

You almost feel empty when he pulls out his fingers and you turn your head slightly to look at him. The first thing you notice is his penis, twitching and hanging heavy between his legs, neglected for far too long now. He smears your juice against your thigh, then, he grabs your hips with two strong hands and pulls you closer towards him. You swallow hard when he lines himself up with you, feeling the tip press against your swollen lips. You want to automatically push him away, but with his free hand he grabs both your wrists and pins your hands to the mattress above your head. You take in a deep, shaky breath as you brace yourself for the pain. 

Sakazuki readjusts himself, spreading your legs a little wider to accommodate his massive body, then he slowly pushes against you entrance. You feel his grip around your wrists tightening as he spreads you open with his dick and your heat starts to envelope him. The fingers of his other hand dig into your hip to keep you and himself steady. Your own body tenses at the intrusion and you gasp for air. You look between your legs, watching how he slowly but relentlessly disappears inside of you, impaling you with his sheer size. With teary eyes, you try to find his gaze with yours but his are closed tightly, face tight and concentrated. He takes deep and deliberate breaths that tickle your sweaty skin. You wince when he bottoms out in you, his pelvis flush against your own. He pauses for a moment which gives you time to adjust to the foreign body inside of you.

You feel a small shock run through your body when he opens his eyes and looks at you; the heat and animalistic glint in them is almost scaring you. For a moment, you just stare at each other; then, he begins to move. Slowly, but deliberately, letting you feel every single inch of his member. Then, he pushes back in, the rough fabric of his pants scrap against the underside of your thighs, intensifying the feeling in your cunt more. 

.

He can feel the resistance of your body when he pushes back in; your walls tighten out of discomfort around him though he can’t complain. Every thrust of his hips, every small gasp from your small frame lulls him deeper and deeper into comfortable soft cotton, letting him forget more and more of the stress that comes with his line of work. He angles his hips differently, adjusting his position to a more comfortable one and feels how your body is trying to inch away from him. He does not care. 

Your body, so young, so soft, so compliant, so….enticing….he hates to admit it but youth does bring some advantages. His hips snap forward in a sharp angle and he can’t always hold back the deep grunts it forces out of his body. His hand slowly lets go of your wrists, traveling down your arms until it reaches your shoulder, then further down to your breasts. He watches as you seemingly can’t decide if you want to inch away from his touch or arch your back against it. They feel nice against his palms; he starts playing with one, particularly with your nipple which elicits a suppressed moan from your mouth. He likes the sound of it. 

He pinches it between his fingers and in response you squeeze him tightly, forcing a breathy grunt from his lips which leads to a breathy chuckle. He leans down and lets his nose trail along your jawline before his lips ghost against the shell of your ear. 

“Want me to be rougher?” you tighten around him again while you shake your head no vehemently. Liar. His breathing is heavy next to your ear while his hand joins his other one at the other side of your hips and pulls your roughly against him. Your legs press down around his waist and your heels dig into the small of his back. He thrusts into you again, this time forcing a choked sob out of your body. Something wet touches his face and he turns it to look at you. 

You are clearly crying but at the same time your face can’t hide the lust you must be feeling right now. It surprises him that you are even able to feel pleasure from this but he doesn’t complain. The human body is a funny thing. 

.

Your body is sending so many mixed signals to your brain that you can’t grasp a single thought right now. You hate it; hate everything he is doing to you but especially what he forces you to feel, forces your body into compliance. It hurts, he is not gentle but to your relief or horror you know he could be a lot worse. But would it really be bad if he was? Maybe then he wouldn’t force you to feel things you don’t want to feel, wouldn’t force your body to completely abandon yourself and become his little pleasure thing. 

You bring your hands down between your own and his body, you want to push him away, even it is just a little but you are scared to touch him, to touch his bare chest, to touch his burning skin. You are scared that you might get burned yourself if you did. 

His occasional grunts echo in your ears like the gun shot; they leave a petrifying feeling in every fiber of your being but at the same time they do something to your body that should be forbidden. The fire deep inside the pit of your stomach becomes bigger, hotter even and it forces your body to move against his. Though, once you notice, you stop yourself. Still, the mixture of pain, pleasure and humiliation is a poisonous drink that seems to infect the millions of nerve-ends in your system and fuel this fire even more. 

You are suddenly flipped over onto your stomach, the pillow is swiftly shoved underneath your hips to lift your butt up a little. Both his hands dig into your hips and you feel the hot and heavy shaft of his dick glide between your cheeks, his hands spreading them while he does it. You panic, afraid he might use this hole now. 

“Please….not there….” You whisper, almost not audible. You feel him lean over your body, his lips brushing the back of your head. If you were brave enough, you could now slam your head against his face. But you’re not. 

“Please, not there,” you repeat your request, your body tensing while you wait for his reply. His chuckle is deep behind you as he lets his thumb slip between your cheeks, circling that other hole. 

“Not here, huh? What a shame.” His thumb moves lower to your wet womanhood, playing with your entrance before lining himself up with it once more. He straightens up for a better position. This time, he pushes himself inside without much consideration. The small, rough pubic hair scratch against your butt cheeks as he lays flush against your ass, his weight pressing you further into the mattress. 

.

He throws his head back when he starts moving again; now, that he is behind you he feels more comfortable to let a little loose. With each thrust, he pulls your hips back against his crotch, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, leaving angry red marks. A thin sheen of sweat is covering his body; his hips thrust forward in a rhythm only he knows. You pant, wince, mewl, and moan in response, your walls squeezing him tightly every now and again. His hand moves up from your hip, over your back, following your spine and to the nape of your neck. He leans forward and presses you further down into the mattress, all while he increases his pace. 

His occasional grunts mixed with the slapping of skin on skin as well as your muffled sounds fill the room and the smell of sex is in the air. The bed is moving with his thrusts and bumps against the wall; if there had been any neighbors, they’d know what the two of you were doing right now. But there are none. There are only you and him in this entire building. 

.

He leans down, his body covering yours completely. It is too much skin on skin contact but there is no way you can shake him off. His damp breath mixes with the sweat on your skin; his left arm is places next to your head for support while his right hand lets go of your neck and instead moves down along your ribcage and underneath your body and between your legs. You tense when you feel his fingers find the little nub once again and start to caress it. 

You want to suppress it, you really do but the moan that leaves your body is primal and doesn’t sound like your own. He also seems surprised by your reaction but then simply continues. You hate how much your body is reacting to this, how it wants to lean into his touch, his thrusts – him – for more of this feeling. Oh, how easy it could be if you didn’t feel this way. But even the rational part of your brain couldn’t deny the fact that he was making you feel good in a twisted way. You can’t deny how every new grunt against your ear, every press of his thumb against your clit, every inch of his cock makes you lose a little more of yourself in pleasure. You don’t want that. 

He angles his hips slightly different and another moan leaves your body. Your hand comes down between the pillow and your body and grabs his wrist once more but he is not deterred. It feels like your vagina is on fire now as well; with each new thrust, with every circle against your nub, he forces your body a little closer to the edge. You pant and moan, trying to pry his hand away from your clit but he ignores it. You squirm underneath his heavy body, your hips move against him and his hand, your body is starting to chase the much anticipated high. 

“No…please don’t…!” you force yourself to say, voice broken and on the verge of desperattion. Your body is writhing underneath his, muscles tensing to force yourself to not give in. Sakazuki huffs in what seems to be amusement, his lips find the shell of your ear.

“Why,” he breathes, finger pressing against you.

“You don’t like it?” A sharp thrust. “Or this?” Another thrust. You sob, but it is mixed with a moan. 

“I’ve been balls deep inside of you this whole time,” despite the situation, his voice sounds calm. “You’ve let me fuck you so well – might as well give yourself a little reward for your sacrifice.” He kisses away one of your tears almost mockingly. 

“Do you feel how wet you are for me? Can you feel me inside you, stretching you…does it feel good when I move this deep?” Another quick thrust, another moan from you in response. 

“Or does it hurt?” he pinches your clit. You scream a high-pitched scream that is a mix between pain and pleasure. 

“I can feel every inch of you, every squeeze around me….so soft, so….” He presses his lips against your head “…tight.”.

Your body is shuddering with every single word of his and you are overwhelmed by your own emotions. Your nails dig into his skin while you simultaneously try to push him away and press him closer. 

“Why….do you care so much….,” you press out, a last ditch effort to prevent the inevitable. 

“I can feel how your body reacts….why would I deny you something that feels so good?” He is mocking you; mocking your body’s reaction, mocking the predicament you are in.

“Fucking….old….pervert…..” you hiss. Sakazuki chuckles and his arm slowly snakes underneath your neck, his forearm pressing against your throat and pulling your body closer against his own. He is not choking you but you feel suffocated nonetheless. Your free hand now claws at his forearm and tries to pry him off of you. To no avail. 

“And yet you are squeezing the cock of this fucking old pervert like a bitch in heat.” 

His movements don’t follow any specific rhythm anymore; it is purely animalistic, there are no restraints. With a swift move, he pulls your entire body upright with his arm around your neck and into a kneeling position. His hand between your legs is almost frantic while his hips snap upwards into you. Your body has completely submitted to him and the only thing you are able to do is claw hat his forearm around your throat for support. Your eyes are tightly closed and your lips are agape while your head lulls back against his chest while your body is preparing for the avalanche that is about to steamroll right over you. 

Every nerve in your body is hyper-aware of every single touch, every single shift, every single thrust. It is building inside you like a fever that refuses to break – searing, inescapable, unbearable. You try to breathe it away, to wrestle it into silence, but every touch, every push coils tighter and tighter in your core. Your body no longer feels like your own and yet you feel everything.

And then it hits. 

It tears through you with the force of a star exploding. Your breath catches on a helpless sound that sounds alien in your own ears. It is animalistic, not human. The world narrows to raw sensation. Your mind goes white-hot. Every muscle tightens, then breaks apart in waves of overwhelming release. 

He is holding you tightly against his body, the heat almost unbearable for you but at the same time he is the only anchor you can cling to as your body shudders through the last ripples of the high he dragged you into. 

He was sitting on his huge throne like chair, his head supported by his hand and looking gloomy as ever. Even his most trusted brethren were keeping their distance, only approaching when really necessary. Impatiently, Arlong tapped his fingers on the arm rest, not knowing what he was waiting for. An enemy to slice up? Money to spend? Mentally torture Nami? This naïve female human – did she really believe him that she could be free once she paid him? She was way too valuable even though she was a human.

No, what he was actually waiting for was something different and sadly, really difficult to get. It’s been a long time since he had last set his eyes on one of those mermaids who could seduce even the most cold-hearted fishman with their looks. He couldn’t deny that he was almost longing for one of those sensual creatures but – damnit! – it was impossible to find one here. There also didn’t happen to be one in his crew.

His mood dropped even more, his aura emitting some sort of bloodlust that didn’t get unnoticed by his crew who, I response, slowly put more distance between them and their captain. Kuroobi was watching his captain from inside the huge building, arms crossed and thinking. He knew Arlong would never let his anger out on his crew but it wasn’t really desirable to have an angry captain. But he didn’t know what to do about his mood – he didn’t even know the reason in the first place!

As fortune sometimes worked, Kuroobu saw Arlong’s eyes lit up when a certain crewmate passed by, disappearing into the building once they saw Arlong’s almost hungry eyes. Kuroobu knew what he had to do.

“W-what are you doing? Let go!” you hissed but the huge fishman just dragged you with him, back to the captain. You swallowed hard, had you just ‘ran away’ when you saw the look on his face. Arlong looked up at Kuroobu who was still holding you by the arm, then grinned, exposing a row of sharp teeth.

“There is a reason why you’re one of my most trusted brother! Shahahahaha!” Arlong asked, his mood increasing drastically. Kuroobu just nodded and pushed you towards the captain, making you stumble and barely being able to stay on your legs. “You’re just what I needed.” Arlong laughed and grabbed you by your wrist, pulling you into his lap. You struggled bus his huge hands were already roaming your body, touching parts a captain normally shouldn’t be touching.

“A-Arlong-san. What are you doing?” you asked, struggling in his grip to get away yet you knew he wouldn’t let you. You haven’t been part of his crew for long and it never came to your mind that Arlong might be sexually interested in you but apparently that was a mistake. He was considerably taller and stronger than you and wouldn’t accept a “no”, even if you pleaded with him.

His hungry eyes moved over your body, lighting up when he ripped all your clothes with his nose apart, exposing naked skin. You let out a short yelp, covering your exposed body, heat creeping up your face. Arlong pulled your hands away, savoring every inch of your delicate skin with his eyes.

“Not a mermaid but better than the other options I have. Shahahaha!” you didn’t know if it was a compliment or an insult but couldn’t think any further about it because the captain started touching your naked skin again, making you jerk away from his touch. He frowned at your action, a cold shiver running down your spin and fear settling inside your stomach.

“Are you trying to get away from me, Y/n?” he asked, looking at you with those predatory eyes. You swallowed, shaking your head in response but not coming any closer; you were frozen in place. Arlong chuckled darkly, his grin creeping back on his face and he yanked you forward and onto his lap.

“Good. Cause we wouldn’t want you getting hurt, would we?” it was a threat rather than a question and you knew you had to oblige.

Arlong’s long fingers wandered across your back and to your ass, scratching it with his sharp nails, leaving red marks on your skin. You gasped in pain but restrained yourself from trying to get off his lap. Arlong seemed pleased by your reaction and continued assaulting your ass until it was red and sore all over.

When he was satisfied with his work he ‘finally’ had his attention on another part of your body though you weren’t sure if you liked him paying attention to this part. He licked his lips before he pinched your nipples with both hands, making you arch your body as pain jolted through your body. “Shahahahaha! Don’t tell me it hurts, Y/n! You’re a pirate, Arlong Pirate at that! Such little pain shouldn’t even bother you!” he laughed. You bit your lips to keep your sobbing at bay but it was difficult. His nails almost pierced your nipples and you just prayed that he’d let go before this happened.

Beneath your thigh you could feel his huge dicks pressing against the restraints of his pants and your stomach cramped. Right, he was a shark. This would be painful.

Arlong noticed you becoming silent and somewhat pale as if you had eaten something rotten and let go of your nipples. He saw you inching away from his crotch and then it hit him. His huge grin became even wider and more sadistic as he realized why you seemed so nervous.

“Are you excited for what’s about to come?” he purred, perfectly knowing that excited was not the correct word to describe your current state of mind and body.

His hand opened his pants, then pulling out his huge, erect members, already dripping with pre-cum.

You squeaked at the sight and tried getting off his lap once again but Arlong had an iron grip on your hip. “Where do you think you’re going? We haven’t even started yet. Shahahaha!” he stroked his dicks in his hand, coating them with his slick pre-cum.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to suck me off. I just need to release some tension.” Honestly, sucking him off sounded way better than taking him in. It would’ve still hurt but not as much as it will hurt once he’s inside of you. But Arlong seemed to have made up his mind and was eager to get going.

His other hand let go of his dicks and landed on your hips. He lifted you up with ease and positioned you above his dicks. You struggled, trying to get away from his dicks and looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Please…..not like this…!” but it was too late. Arlong shamelessly moaned loudly when he buried himself inside of you, filling you out in a painful way. You gasped out in pain, your whole body tensing and your nails clawing at his thick skin.

“So tight…!” he praised and started moving you on his dicks, penetrating you relentlessly. “A-Arlong-san….please….slow down!” If he wouldn’t stop he might give you some time to adjust but he didn’t listen. Arlong was pleasing himself, using you as some type of toy or sex doll, not looking at you as a person. It hurt and you couldn’t hold back the tears from running down your cheeks.

Out of the corner of your eyes you could see Kuroobi watching you without sympathy. He saw it as a greater good for the crew that you were providing Arlong sexual services – you all benefitted from it in the long-run.

Arlong moaned and grunted in pleasure, increasing the pace and ramming himself inside of you, his nails digging into your skin, drawing blood. “Fuck!” he grunted, looking at you with his huge grin. He leaned forward and started biting your skin hardly, drawing blood there as well, drinking it like some wild animal. You could feel him throb inside of you and you hoped that he would be done soon.

With a deep, animalistic moan Arlong thrusted inside of you for the last time before filling you with his thick, sticky cum, making it spill out of you due to the huge amount. He panted, obviously satisfied and lazily stroking your back as if to tell you ‘good job’. You, however, were still in pain though towards the end you had started feeling some sort of pleasure. Too bad Arlong was already done.

You were leaning against his chest, trying to catch your breath, tears starting to dry against your skin.