#op rodo

Your vision swims and your eyes sting when you try to blink the world back into focus. Mind thick and foggy, every thought that tries to surface drowns in syrup in your skull.

Only a pathetic little sound manages to escape when you try to speak. But the sound seems to alert someone- there’s a shuffling of footsteps, though they pound so loud in your ears you feel the thump thump thump vibrating down into your bones.

“You’re awake, my dear.” The voice thunders so loud that you wince. “Oh, I’m sorry,” it ushers more softly. It’s still far too loud, but not quite so painful. “I was just excited” A shadow passes above you and you will yourself to focus on it, trying to cease the swirling in your vision long enough to figure out what you’re looking at.

A face hovers over you- a man. A very, very large man. A- “giant.” The word is wool in your mouth, voice slurring around the familiar shape of it… Familiar? The sense that you should know something sounds somewhere in the chasm of your mind.

“That’s right,” he says. “Do you… remember anything?”

You try. There’s images there in the haze, but they’re blurry silhouettes of color and muffled noise that you can’t quite make out. “Hey, that’s okay,” he assures you. “You don’t have to remember anything. I know everything about you.” His voice warbles a bit with the effort to keep it low. “Well, almost everything. I’m sure I’ll learn more now that you’re here. I’d like that.”

He knows everything about you? You stare at his face, and slowly he comes into focus- sharp features partially shrouded by long midnight blue hair. He stares back at you, patiently waiting for… something. Recognition, maybe? But the spark of it doesn’t come. The sight of him stirs no recollection, but there’s a strange buzzing in the recesses of your mind that flits through your fingers like a stubborn fly when you try to grab it.

But, if he knew everything about you… Wait… do you know everything about you? What are you doing here? Is he a- “friend?” the questions only coalesce into a single word, but you hope it’s enough to haul you out of the shroud you’re swathed in.

He leans forward, eyes lighting, “yes, that’s right- I am a friend. I’m a very very good friend.” You sigh, relieved. “You, uh… you got a little sick, so you may not remember much.” Head heavy, you nod your acknowledgment. “I’m helping you get better. So just trust me, okay? Everything I do is to make you all better.”

“Thank… you…” how nice to know you have a friend so willing to care for you. Surely, your memory of him will come back soon. “What’s your… name?” you ask, words coming marginally easier, the spinning slowing.

“You can call me God.”

The buzzing zips across your brain and you shake your head to rid yourself of it. “God…?”

God scoops you gently into the palm of his hand and you feel so small- so vulnerable- within his grasp. An arrow of fear pierces your chest with the thought that he could so easily crush you, but you try to blink it away. If he’s your friend, you’ve nothing to be scared of. He’s helping you, after all.

“Just relax, okay? I’m going to be really gentle, I promise.” The wind of his whisper passes over where you lay cupped in his hand. His other hand comes up and there’s a glint of metal between his fingers. Instinctively, you squirm, trying to move away from it. “Shh, hey hey- it’s okay, I promise. It’s just to help me cause my fingers are so big. I’m not going to hurt you. We’re friends, remember?” His words cascade through you, coaxing you to still for him.

Though your heart beats rapidly, you do. As he brings the metal closer to your body you begin to understand what it is. A tool for grabbing things too small for his giant hands, though it’s tip looks concerningly sharp.

There’s a distinctive clink as the tips come together, your shirt pinched between them. A little whimper passes your lips as the metal leeches cold into you. “Don’t worry, I’ve done this plenty of times.” Still, you hold your breath when he begins to pull and the riiiip of your shirt sounds loud in your ears.

When he’s torn it enough to slip away from you, he peels it off and discards it somewhere else. “Now, hold really still,” he brings the tip to hover over your chest and somewhere your mind thinks if he were to drop it, it would slice right through you. But, he keeps his gentle composure as be brings the point of it between your breasts. “Don’t move,” he issues again and- once again- you hold your breath. A shiver threatening to betray you when the very edge of the tool grazes your skin- not enough to scratch, just enough to feel.

Snap! the midsection of your bra snaps open, your breasts bouncing a little being so suddenly released. The band slides out from under you as he pulls it away and you let your breath escape with it. For a moment, he just stares down at your half naked body before making the tiniest movement of his hand, watching your breasts sway with the motion.

The air shifts around you when he pulls in a stuttering breath before moving again, bringing the sharp tool to the waistband of your pants. There’s a long sound of the thick fabric tearing slowly down each leg as he slices it away from you. Then, you’re left laying in his palm in nothing but your underwear, his breath dusting over your naked skin.

Only when he brings the tool back to claim your last scrap of modesty does the bell of clarity ring enough for you to recognize that something… doesn’t seem right. “Wait, why are you…?”

“I’m just… making sure you’re healing properly. I’m looking for signs of the sickness.”

“Oh,” that makes sense… doesn’t it? Even still… “do you have to take…?” Your hands rest over your low body, fingers grazing your underwear.

“I do,” he says. “I have to take all your clothes off- even your panties. I know it’s embarrassing, but you’ll just have to trust me,” he explains. “Spread your legs a little, it’ll make it easier.” Even through the haze of your sickness, you feel heat bloom over your skin as you part your knees for God. “Wider,” he orders and watches you open yourself up, legs spreading under his command. “Very good. Hold still, now.”

Heart hammering in your chest, he brings the tool between your legs- fear slicking through you when he pinches the seam at your inner thigh. Your hips lift off his palm a little before the fabric tears and drops you down again. “There,” he muses. “Now I can look at you properly.”

Your heart drops with the rush of sudden movement as you’re lifted higher, God bringing his hand closer to his face to examine you up close. This way and that, he turns you a little, “Can you move yet? Raise your arms over your head.” You wiggle your fingers and roll your wrists, working through the resistance as you bring your arms out above your head, laying stretched out in his palm. “Hmm…”

There’s a clinking sound as he reaches for something- another tool, though this one looks far less imposing. A long stick for his hold, but a tiny tapered tip maybe the width of your hand. It’s soft when he touches it to your stomach. “This will help me examine you- just relax.” You take a deep breath, the air coming easier now, and do as he says.

He drags the little tip across your stomach and then up over your chest. You gasp a little when it roams over your breasts, grazing over your nipples. He lets it linger there, pushing it around and lifting your breast. The more he does it, the more sensitive your body becomes- nipples peaking embarrassingly under his ministrations. “God… are you almost done?”

“Almost. The sickness can hide here sometimes, I just have to be thorough.” You try to close your eyes, but it only makes the feeling stronger. “Bring your knees up and spread your legs, I need to check there.”

Doing as he says, mortification settles heavy enough to cut away more of the fog in your brain. Enough so that you nearly have a thought- before God drags the tip of the tool between your legs, causing your whole body to jolt. It doesn’t hurt, the touch is soft and measured- practiced, even. But, the feeling of it sends a shock through your system that has been so deftly muted since you woke up in this strange place. “You are very responsive.”

“Is… is that good?” You genuinely can’t tell. He runs the tool through your slit again and your body shudders once more.

“Yeah,” his voice is thick, “it’s really good.” He leaves the tip of the tool pressed into your folds making minuscule fluctuations with his hand. Well, minuscule for him. But, for you, the soft tip of the tool circles steadily over your pussy, grinding over your cunt and the top of your entrance. “I just need to check something…”

Another sensation builds up, pushing through the suppressive barrier. Perhaps that was the point- to return your senses to you through the most extreme ones. You couldn’t say, really, but you hoped because it certainly seems to be working. Maybe, a little too well. “Um, God… I think….” Your breaths are heavy at his faultless ministrations. “If you don’t stop, I’ll… something will happen…”

“Yeah, I know,” he assures. “It’s just part of the treatment. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yeah…” you admit.

“Tell me.”

“It… it feels really good, God. I think I’m gonna… if you don’t stop, I might…”

“Are you about to cum?” There’s a rise to his voice, and the question alone in combination with the relentless grinding is enough to make it happen. “Oh shit, you’re cumming now.”

“Yes, I’m… ohh~”

He pulls the tool away and your body rebels with the loss and he lifts you a little higher, leveling you with his eyes. “Legs wide, I need to see it.” Your legs open and you cover your eyes as the embarrassment weaves through your system, deeper with every clench of your pussy. “Perfect,” he breathes.

There’s some relief in that, you think. “So I’m healthy now? Am I cured?”

“Nearly.” Gently, he lays you back on his large wooden table. “You need to take your medicine now.”

“Medicine?” God sprays something into the air- a pink shimmering mist cascading down onto you. It tingles where it touches your skin and smells sweet as it settles into your lungs.

“It’s a special kind of medicine that will get all the sickness out of you,” God explains. “Don’t fight it, okay? Just let it make you feel better.”

“Okay,” hesitantly, you agree- the tingling feeling spreading warmer down your body.

God shimmers through the pink mist, his silhouette moving as he reaches down and lays something out at your side. Rising on your still trembling legs, you move slowly towards it. “Oh, it’s a person,” you say with a tilt to your head, “a person like me.”

“Yes, that’s right. Just like you. Only, he’s a man.”

“A man…” the tingling seeps down between your legs. Standing naked over the man, you peer into his sleeping face- a long scar down one eye and green hair hanging over his forehead. There’s a flutter in your chest as your eyes roam down his body. “He’s so big…” and just as naked as you are.

“To you, yes,” God agrees.

“Who is he?” even as you ask, there’s an ache inside like you should know. Or, at least, like you want to know- very, very badly.

“He’s going to help you feel better,” God assures you. “I chose him just for you.”

“Just for me?” Urges begin whispering in your mind, encouraging you to get closer. “Can I touch him?”

“You can do anything you want to him.”

“Anything…” your eyes catch on the heavy erection between his legs, cock thick as the rest of him glistening at the tip. Wetness begins pooling between your legs, slicking your thighs together.

“Is there something you want to do right now?”

A small moan responds in your throat, body quivering as it whispers to you exactly what it wants to do. There’s something thicker beneath the desire, something that makes you hesitate. “I want…”

“Go ahead, you can do it.” Instinctively, your body moves closer, drawn by a growingly incessant need. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, you hesitate. “He’s sick too,” God insists. “You’ll make each other better by doing what the medicine tells you to do.”

“Really…” God’s permission entices you down onto your knees next to the man’s massive body.

“Yes, really. It’ll cure you both.”

The man doesn’t stir even as you climb atop him, bracing your hands on the strong plane of his scarred stomach. Your leg swings over his hips and a whimper leaves your lips as your cunt spreads sticky, slick dribbling out onto him. Slowly, you drop your weight into his lap, letting his thick cock slot between the folds of your sex. Immediately, it feels so good that you’re grinding against him, chasing an instinctive need you have no idea if you’ve ever felt before.

Fingers digging into the man, you lean forward, letting the head of his cock grind against a sensitive little place between your legs. “Oh, he feels good~ he feels so good~” Your movements grow sloppy, the loud wet sound of your relentless grinding rising. “I’m gonna- I feel so-” mouth falling open, needy sounds tumble forth as a spring coils tight in your lower body.

“Cum on him,” God orders and you obey, cunt seizing and creaming on the sleeping man’s cock.

Your head rolls back, eyes closed lost in your bliss. Insatiable, your hips keep rolling- entirely unable to cease chasing the pleasure. “More, more, more-”

Big hands grip your waist, fingers digging hard into the soft plush of your curves. Gasping, you look down and see the man staring up at you through one open eye. There’s confusion on his face, but it quickly begins melting into something more heated- more feral- as his gaze rakes down your naked body, all the way to your cunt spread atop him.

“Woman,” he growls, voice thick and gravely. He takes a long inhale through his nose, eye sliding closed. “My woman,” he exhales, a rumble in his chest. You whimper and he opens his eye to the sound of it-

Before sitting up, arms wrapping around your body and you freeze, breathe shuddering. “Must be mine, bouncing on my cock,” he reasons to himself. His hand roughly grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to look at him.

“I…” your lips quiver as you try to respond, a little slice of fear thrilling down your body, “I don’t know…”

His expression narrows on you, the center of his eye blown so wide you don’t know it’s color. With a growl he presses closer, teeth peeling back from his lips, “mine now,” his teeth snap in time with his hips. Crying out, you feel his cockhead slip into your body, cunt squeezing to suck him in deeper.

The hand at your jaw slips around your throat, the one at your hip forcefully yanking you against him. Rising on his knees, your legs wrap around his waist, holding tight as he starts thrusting into you with powerful motions that quake through your entire body.

His cock slams into something more sensitive inside and you arch back in his hands, voice breaking as your stretched cunt desperately grips around his massive cock. “Yeah,” he roars, “that’s fucking mine.”

Your world tilts as he leans forward and puts you on your back, throwing your legs over his shoulders. It’s exhilarating the way he maneuvers your body, bending you to his will. Dropping low, he sinks so deeply into you that it’s hard to breathe through the wonderfully agonizing stretch of your cunt. While you may not remember anything beyond this room, your body is so electrified you’re certain you mustn’t have ever felt something like this before.

“Breathe, woman,” he coaxes above you and laughs when you suck the air in greedy. Whimpering, you look up at him in utter submission, “that’s what I like to see,” he grins satisfied.

He drops down to his elbows, pinning you beneath him- body folded in half. Tears pool hot in your eyes at the overwhelming sensation, his hips meeting yours with every deep thrust. Your body jolts a little when he shifts and the stars explode in your vision when he hits against something new and sensitive. “There it is,” he purrs.

“What…” you pant for breath, tears tipping over, “what are you doing to me?”

With a hard drive of his hips that presses you deeper into the table, he answers, “I’m fucking you.” Pointedly, he pounds the head of his cock directly into that special spot, “get used to it.”

“Fucking me…” the words repeat on your tongue, unsure of their taste.

“That’s right,” he croons. “You take my cock so well I’m starting to think you’ve done it before.” Heat blooms across your face at the very idea of it, turning away from his gaze, cunt clenching in supplication. He growls, the rumble of his chest vibrating over your breasts, “look at me,” he demands. “My woman will look at me when I fuck her.”

The possession in his voice coils low, “I’m…” you struggle to keep your eyes on him, “I’m gonna… again…”

“Yeah, I know. I can fucking feel it.” His grip on you tightens, preventing your body from moving an inch as he brings his pelvis flush with yours, grinding into your clit with every roll of his hips.

When your head tilts back, his mouth finds your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. When he bites down, your cunt follows- squeezing down around his cock. His long groan vibrates through the hollow of your throat where he keeps sucking as his cock spasms inside you, something hot and thick flooding you from the inside.

His lips pop wet off your neck, drooling as he admires his claim. Leaning back, he keeps himself buried inside you but presses his hand over the mound of your Venus, feeling the slosh of cum around his dick.

Fingers digging into his arms, you tilt back, feeling so full you could burst. “What… what…”

His big hand smooths over it, thumb swiping over your clit. “That’s my cum, filling you up,” he tells you and you feel his cock twitch again. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” you respond immediately, “thank you- feels so good.”

Your mouth opens as his fingers drag over your lips, “you’re well trained,” he observes. A wicked grin slides across his face, “you’re a little whore, aren’t you?”

Mortification floods through you hot as the cum still sloshing around your cunt, hands sliding up to cover your blushing face. “I…” you don’t know what you are. You’re not even entirely certain you completely understand the meaning of the word that makes you feel both so terrible and so delicious at the same time.

With a gasp, your hands are wrenched away from your face and he stares down at you, “my little whore now.” With one big hand he pins both your wrists above your head, “isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you nod quickly, “your little whore, ‘Ro.”

He stills, head tilting, “what’d you say?”

Lidded eyes blink up at him as you repeat the words, “your whore.”

“No,” he leans closer, eye searching yours- a spark of something behind them. “What’d you…” his words fade as a fresh layer of the pink mist descends on his body, tingling over his spine and stirring his cock back up again.

With no further question and no warning, he starts fucking you again- cum splattering out of your pussy with every thrust to the tip. It creams around his cock foamy and white and he gathers it in his fingers before slathering it over your clit and furiously rubbing pleasure over the aching little bud. Your hips buck up to meet him, nails digging into his arms to keep yourself anchored to his body.

“Again, again, again,” you beg, “make me better, gotta be better, gotta be his good girl~”

There’s a groan in the air that belongs to neither of you and through the pink mist your eyes flutter open to see God looking down from above. Your man’s pace doesn’t even falter as his eye slices up to look at him. “Oi, big guy” he calls up, “you try and take what’s mine and I’ll kill you,” his warning is so even it takes a moment for your mind to process the casual violence in it.

“Y- you can’t talk to him like that!” You insist, voice trembling with the bounce of your body, “that’s God.”

The man throws his head back and laughs- a deep roll of thunder that vibrates all the way to your core. His grin stays wide as his eye slides back to you, a hand tightening possessively around your throat, “I’m your god now, baby.”

➽──────────────❥

When Zoro wakes up in the blocky new world, he’s alone- head pounding and groggy. With a groan he rubs his hand down his face, attention catching on the tiny crescents decorating his forearms. Brows furrowing, he tries to remember where they came from, but he doesn’t remember anything past the party on the ship. Yet, something stirs warm and low as he looks at them.

Sighing, he stands- stretching out his body that feels unusually, deliciously, heavy. Cracking his neck, he thinks maybe that absinthe was stronger than he gave it credit for. But, he’s not really sure- and he doesn’t really care.

The only thing he knows for certain is that he needs to find you. The only thing he really cares about is that he finds you right now. More than usual, his protectiveness flares into something a bit more possessive. Fingers feeling over the indents in his skin he starts walking- setting off to find you.