#rob lucci

Rob Lucci 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

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

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

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

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

You hum, going back to your feet. Pouting.

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

Fine then.

It’s war.

You’ll nag him till he gives in.

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

No answer. Just condescension seeping through his gaze.

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

And you blink.

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

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

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

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

Smug, cocky and entirely pleased with himself.

Jerk.

Sir Crocodile 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

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

You were pulling on his vest, frowning.

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

Meanie.

“Sir… please.”

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

“Please, what?”

Your cheeks burn flushed. “You know what.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meeting his lips.

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

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

It’s all smugness and adoration.

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

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

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

Trafalgar D. Water Law 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

“What are you doing.”

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

“Law, please, just—”

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

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

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

“That was two days ago!”

“And still no apology.”

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

“please Law…”

“go on, please what?”

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

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

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

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

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

For a moment, Law only looks at you.

Taking in your features.

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

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

“Pretty.”

You blink. “What—?”

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

Yeah.

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

Donquixote Doflamingo 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

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

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

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

“Doffy… please, just lean down.”

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

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

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

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

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

And he freezes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roronoa Zoro 𓏲 ࣪˖♡𓂃

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

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

Arms crossed.

“Zoro.”

“No.”

You tug his shirt. “Zoro!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“Still; no.”

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

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

You were leaning forward, he was leaning back.

“You’re not giving me a chance!”

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

“Lean down. Please.”

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

“Sure.”

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

“Really!?”

“Yeah. if you beg.”

At that, your face sullen once more.

“I’ve been begging.”

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

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

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

“You want it that bad huh?”

You swallow your pride, and nod.

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

Soft. Sweet.

Lips clicking when he parts.

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

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

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

ZORO

You’re in the kitchen with Nami. Soft conversation. Warm lighting. Laughing a little over booze.

“I mean, I don’t think he even realizes how much I watch him,” you say, smiling. “He’s always so focused. So serious.”

Nami raises a brow. “Wow, you’ve got it bad.”

You nod. “I know.” Then softer—like it slipped out: “I love him.”

Around the corner—Zoro stops walking.

Completely.

Stares ahead like someone just threw a sword through his chest.

He backs up. Quiet. Leans against the wall.

Breathes. Once. Twice.

“…Shit.”

When you leave the kitchen later, he’s waiting outside. Doesn’t say anything. Just pulls you to him, forehead resting on yours.

“Say it again,” he whispers. You blink. “What?”

“I need to hear it. Straight from you.”

You soften into a smile. “I love you.”

He mutters something under his breath that sounds like finally— then kisses you like he plans to hear it every day for the rest of his goddamn life.

SANJI

You’re helping Robin prep some herbs for dinner. Quiet. Peaceful.

“He’s such a flirt,” you say. “But he doesn’t realize how sincere he really is. He’s gentle. He listens. He remembers.”

Robin hums knowingly. “Sounds like you’re awfully smitten.”

You laugh, bashful. Then: “I love him, Robin.”

Outside, just beyond the doorway—Sanji nearly drops the wine bottle he was carrying.

His heart is pounding like cannon fire.

He peeks in. Sees you smiling. Glowing. Talking about him.

He exhales slowly. Hand on his chest.

“Mon dieu…”

Later that night, when everyone’s winding down, he pulls you aside. Hands shaking just a little.

“Did you mean it?” he asks. “What you said... to Robin.”

You blink, cheeks already flushing. “Y-You heard that?”

He grabs your hand. Brings it to his lips.

“I felt it,” he murmurs. “And I’ve never wanted to hear something so badly in my life.”

When you say it again, against his lips, he doesn’t kiss you. He hugs you first. So tightly you start squirming. Then kisses you like you’re an oath he’s taken for life.

SMOKER

You’re talking to Tashigi. Voice soft. Steady.

“He’s not easy to be around,” you admit, a little smile on your lips. “But I’ve never felt safer. Or more seen. I don’t think he realizes how much that means to me.”

She smiles behind her glasses. “You care for him very deeply.”

You nod. “I do. I love him.”

Out in the hall, Smoker freezes.

He’d been walking past—cigars in mouth, usual scowl in place— But now?

Everything stops.

He leans against the wall. Quiet. Processing.

You love him.

Him.

The man made of smoke and walls and muttered complaints.

Later, he walks into your room without knocking.

You look up, startled. “Smoker?”

He walks over. Pulls you into his chest. Doesn’t let go.

“Just… say it to my face next time, would you?”

You blink. “What?”

He exhales. “The thing. That you told Tashigi earlier.”

You freeze. Then soften into a smile. “What? That I love you?”

He groans softly—like it hurts. Then leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

“Yeah,” he whispers. “That.”

A few silent moments settle around you both. You smile as his thumb traces your cheek, his eyes locked on your lips.

“You mean it?” he mutters.

You smile, rising on your tiptoes as you press your lips to his. “You know I do.”

KUZAN

You’re sitting beside Borsalino. Talking quietly.

“He’s so complicated,” you say, swirling tea in your cup. “Acts so nonchalant, but he’s kind in ways no one sees. Soft when he doesn’t mean to be. And I love him for all of it.”

Kizaru just hums with a quiet smile, nodding like he already knew.

Around the corner—Kuzan stops breathing.

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. Just… caught the tail end.

But that line. That line.

It lands like a knife made of flames right in his cold chest.

He backs away slowly. Hands in his pockets. Trying to play it cool.

Fails completely.

That night, he knocks softly on your door.

You open it, surprised. “Hey.”

He stands there, quiet. Watching you. Like he’s trying to memorize you again.

Then—softly: “You love me?”

You blink, startled. A bit scared. “...Y-You heard that?”

“Didn’t mean to.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Just… couldn’t pretend I didn’t.”

You look down. Step closer. “Yeah. I do.”

He exhales. Deep. Shaky. Then pulls you in, arms wrapping around you like you’re the only safe place left on earth.

“…Good,” he says against your hair. “Makes us both idiots.”

KIDD

You’re sitting at the workbench with Killer. Talking low.

“He’s such an ass sometimes,” you mutter. “But he remembers the smallest things. He fixes stuff without asking. And when he’s soft—god he’s so stupidly soft.”

Killer doesn’t say a word, but he ruffles your hair.

You laugh. A little embarrassed. Then—quiet. Almost shy: “Killer, I love that idiot.”

Outside, around the corner, Kidd has completely stopped functioning.

He was mid-lecture at Heat—paused. Mid-word. Mid-rage.

“…Did you hear that?” he says, like someone just punched him in the chest.

Heat opens his mouth. Closes it. Quietly walks away.

Kidd leans against the wall. Breathes like he’s holding back an explosion.

Later, he finds you. Doesn’t say much. Just steps in close.

“You told Killer something earlier.”

You freeze. Flush. “D-Did I?! Haha, I don't remem—”

“—Don’t even try.”

He stands in your way. Eyes narrowed. Voice low.

“Instead, why don’t you say it to me this time.”

You fold under his intense glare. “I... I love you, okay?”

He grabs your face. Pulls you in.

“You better.”

And then kisses the lights out of you.

BECKMAN

You’re with Yasopp and Lucky Roo. Laughing over drinks.

“He’s so calm, it makes you forget how dangerous he is,” you say. “But that’s what I love about him. I feel safe. Like I can breathe around him.”

They raise their eyebrows. Yasopp pulls a teasing smile.

“Ohooo, that’s a big word. We hear that right?”

You nod. “Yeah. I love him, you guys.”

Down the hall—Beckman stops.

He was walking in. Coffee in hand. Chill as ever. Now? His fingers curl around the mug.

You love him.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t walk in. Just stands there for a minute. Soaking it in. Processing.

Then walks away. And comes back later—heart pounding.

Finds you alone.

“Hey,” he says casually. “Got a second?”

You nod. He steps close. Not too close.

“You said something earlier. To the guys.”

You blink. “Oh. You heard that?”

He nods. “Do me a big favor and say it again. Right now.”

You smile. “...I love you, Beck.”

He exhales. Soft. Grabs the back of your neck and kisses your forehead like it’s sacred.

“…Then I think it’s about time I start acting like I’m worthy of that.”

DOFLAMINGO

You’re sitting on a couch, talking quietly to Vergo. Voice low.

“He’s... lost in his own world sometimes,” you say with a fond smile. “But I think I see more than he wants people to. There’s softness under the madness. And I love him for both parts.”

Vergo smiles. Like he sees it too. “You told him yet?”

You shake your head. “He’d laugh. Or twist it into a cruel joke.” Then softer— “But I do. I love him. Both parts.”

“Heaven and demon.”

Around the corner, Doflamingo has gone absolutely still.

He was headed in to gloat about something stupid. Now? He’s frozen. Stuck in place.

You love him, huh? Both parts?

Not just the mask, not just the monster. Him, the two parts that make up the whole.

Later, he walks in casually. Like nothing happened.

But his glasses are off.

“You love me, sweetheart?” he says flatly. Like he's trying to push something down, while opening it apart at the seams.

You nearly drop the glass in your hand. “Wait—what—”

He’s in front of you in two strides. Looks right through you.

“Say it. I want to hear you say it when you know I’m listening.”

You stare back, defiant. “I love you, Doffy.”

He exhales. Shaky. Covers his eyes. Like he hates what it does to him.

What you do to him.

“Stupider than I pegged you for...” he mutters.

Then lowers his hand. Grabs his glasses. Grins.

Small. Real. A little shaky.

“…Fine. I’m yours, then. You better be ready for that.”

LUCCI

You’re in the corner of a quiet hallway, talking to Kaku.

“I don’t think he even knows how much I care,” you whisper. “He’s so guarded. But I see it—the little things. The way he notices. The way he protects without ever admitting it.”

Kaku nods. “You sound in deep.”

You smile. “I am. I love him.”

Down the hall, Lucci stops moving.

Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just… listens.

You love him.

And you said it like it wasn’t terrifying. Like it wasn’t impossible.

Like it was true, of all things.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t confront you. Just turns. Walks away. Quiet.

Later, he shows up at your door. Doesn’t knock. Just opens it.

You blink. “Lucci?”

He walks over. Stares down at you.

“You were speaking with Kaku earlier.”

You hesitate. “…I was.”

He nods. Slow. Serious.

“You said you love me.”

You pause. Then nod. “I meant it.”

He touches your face. Lightly. Almost unsure.

Then pulls you in. Forehead to forehead.

“Don’t love me,” he mutters.

“Then don’t touch me,” you counter.

Yet his hands don’t leave yours.

“You make a really convincing teacher,” Lucci nearly purrs as he takes a look at your suit skirt and white shirt. On his right shoulder, Hattori coo, in approval. You look like an innocent couple walking their pet as you reach the doorstep of your house, Lucci’s hand resting at the small of your back. “I know it’s just for the mission, but those kids are adorable.” 

Lucci’s eyes darken at your words as he unlocks the door. “Don’t get too attached. Those kids are just tools,” He reminds you, holding the door open for you. As you step inside, he follows, closing the door behind you and locking it. The house is quiet and dimly lit, giving an illusion of normalcy contrasting with your true identities. 

You make such a powerful couple. In private life… and as dangerous spies and assassins dedicated to the CP0. “I know Lucci, I know. I gathered information about our targets. But still they are innocent kids.” You answer softly. Hattori coos again, flapping his wings, swirling in the air, aiming for his bird feeder. This house is so lovely, so comfortable, way too normal. For the neighbors, you’re a quiet, polite couple with an adorable little pigeon. But the truth is: you’re only here to follow the orders. Investigating as undercover agents. Hunting someone suspected to belong to the Revolutionary Army. The best way to gather information was to infiltrate the kindergarten. Nothing more. You’ll leave this place as soon as you’re done with your mission.

“Hungry?” You ask suddenly, walking in the kitchen and opening the cupboard of the countertop, trying to figure out what you could cook for dinner. Lucci leans against the doorway, watching you move around the kitchen with an unreadable expression. He crosses his arms over his chest, his feline muscle flexing slightly under his shirt. “Don’t change the topic. The parents are our target.” He says flatly. His gaze lingers on your backside as you bend down to look in the cupboard, his mind starting to wander from the mission to other thoughts. Slowly, like a predator, he walks in silence, with velvet steps. If you weren’t trained, you wouldn’t notice him approaching you, and you would have jumped out in surprise at the contact of his arms wrapping your waist from behind.

“Keep a cool head,” he murmurs against your neck, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. His hands slowly slide from your waist to your hips, pulling you back against his body. “Those kids call you ‘Miss’ every day. But they’ll grow up someday. Some of them might end up being our enemies. Maybe we killed the parents of some of them.” You nod at his dark reminder. “You know I’m taking our job seriously, you don’t have to remind me of the basics. I think you should be the one focusing on our targets. Your gaze was soft when I was playing with the kids. What were you thinking about?” 

Lucci tightens his arms around you. “Nothing,” his hands spread possessively over your stomach. He takes a deep breath, his sensitive sense of smell enjoying your refined perfume, blends with his own perfume… but also the scent of books, papers, milk and… painting. “You painted with them today. You probably smiled at them, praising them for their ugly drawings. It’s unnerving. You’re an assassin, not a kindergarten teacher, even less a mother”

“I’m just playing a role. Don’t tell me you imagine me as a mother. We’re Cipher Pol agents.” Despite your words, you can’t help but picture how life would be if you had a child. “Exactly,” Lucci says coldly, but his hands don’t move away from your stomach. Instead, they seem to curve around it. “We kill people, we don’t raise children.” But even as he says it, his imagination seems to be getting the better of him. His thumbs start to move gently, like he’s imagining something soft and round under his palms. “In another life, maybe we could have been a normal couple. But not in this one.” He adds, his sensual touch making you shiver even if his words are cold, brutal, yet real. “In another life,” you repeat lowly. 

Lucci’s hands continue to move over your stomach, his mind filled with forbidden thoughts. In another life, you and he would have a cute house like this one, a white picket fence, a little kid, a dog, and Hattori. So cliché. Yet so tempting. The night, he would take his beloved wife to bed and fuck her senseless until she got pregnant again. 

“In another life… But this is our life,” Lucci murmurs, his voice strained with unspoken desires. “We’re not meant to be parents.” His actions aren’t following his words, his hands moving from your stomach to cup your breasts above the soft fabric of your shirt. Pressed against the countertop, you rest your palms on the cool wood, shivering under Lucci’s touch. “Our job is dangerous,” He continues to speak, his thumbs brushing over your nipples through the silk fabric of your clothes. “We can’t dream.” He affirms, but still, his fingers are unbuttoning your shirt. His lips are so soft against your neck, making you shudder. “We will never have a normal life,” He continues, playing with the lace of your bra. Even as he speaks facts, his mind is half-filled with dark thoughts. Like taking you on this counter like an animal.

Lucci hooks his fingers into the lace of your bra, pulling it down to expose your breasts. He purrs quietly against your neck. “They are fuller than usual…..” His other hand reaches around to grab your hip possessively. “Fuck…” He whispers harshly, his mind completely distracted from the mission and reality. All he can think about is bending you over the countertop and breeding you right here, in this goddamn kitchen. Fucking you so hard until you scream for mercy and carry his baby the next day. “They aren’t fuller than usual, you’re imagining things Lucci…” You exhale softly, enjoying the sensation of his skilled fingers playing with your nipple.

Lucci knows your body by heart. It’s unfair. 

“I’m not imagining things, I learned every single inch of your skin,” he replies gruffly. “They are bigger and heavier.” He unhooks your bra, pushing the fabric of your shirt off your shoulders, trapping your arms inside while he continues to play with your breasts. “They’re most sensitive. Rounder. Fuller.” Even without seeing his face, you feel Lucci’s hungry gaze. Unconsciously, you press your ass against his hardening cock. Lucci hisses, but continues his sensual torture with your nipple, his lips trailing open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder, his cheek rubbing against your jawline, marking you, leaving his smell on you. 

“You’re killing me…” He grins against you deliberately, letting you feel exactly how hard you’ve made him. “Condom?” You totally forgot the dinner you wanted to cook, your mind and body totally focused on Lucci. His touch, his lips, his perfume… “No condom.” You answer, even if you know it’s a bad idea. You’re always using condoms. For obvious reasons. But right now, you need to feel him, raw. Now. 

Lucci freezes, buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “No condom?” He repeats hoarsely, his voice laced with desire and a hint of caution. His hips press forward, rubbing his hard bulge against your ass through the thin fabric of your skirt covering your thighs and knees. “You want me bare inside you?” He slides his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt up until his fingers brush against your lace panties, his kisses along your neck turning more needy, urgent. “No pulling out.” It’s not a question but a statement – he wants to breed you right here, right now, his cold mind totally gave up, letting the predator hidden deep down inside him control his actions.

“No pulling out,” you repeat, your breath itching as Lucci’s fingers trace your wet folds through the fabric of your panties. “You’re soaked,” he purrs, feeling the dampness through the lace. Without warning, he tears your panties off, reduces in pieces your shirt and your bra, his claws destroying the tissue effortlessly. “Lucci! I loved this outfit…” You wail, annoyed by his tendency to always rip your clothes instead of taking them off. But the second he grabs your breast again with one hand, unbuckling his belt with the other, you stop protesting. “I’ll buy something better.” He murmurs distractedly. “Bend over the counter.” 

You obey. Damn, you look like a dream with your skirt raised, the pieces of clothes all messy on the ground. He groans at this sight; it’s pure obscenity. Lucci’s belt falls on the floor with a clatter, followed by the sound of his zipper being yanked down slowly, just to play with your nerves, with your senses. You hear him, you feel him, he’s everywhere, since, you can’t see him. “Arch your back.” Lucci’s command, grabbing his hard cock, giving it a few pumps. 

You lick your lips, arching your back, picturing Lucci jerking himself off, his pupils dilated with primal desire. His predatory gaze is intimidating, observing your arching back, breasts pressing against the countertop, skirt bunched up around your waist. His self-control snaps. Lucci steps closer, his hand guiding his length between your thighs until it presses against your soaking cut. He pauses there for a moment, savoring the feeling before slamming into you, deeply, with one powerful thrust. No foreplay needed when you both are this needy. Lucci purrs as he fills you to the hilt; you gasp. Submerged by the incredible sensation of his cock inside you - raw. You can feel each vein, your velvet walls wrapped tightly around his girth.

“Lucci…” You moan, voice dripping with lust. You want him to move, not to stay still. A low rumble rolls down his throat. Lucci’s hips pull back slightly before slamming into you, setting a brutal pace – the brutal pace of someone who's been holding back for too long. Each thrust is deep, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. “You feel so good,” he grits out between clenched teeth. One hand slides up to grab a fistful of your hair, the other stays firmly on your hip, controlling your movement completely. He’s fucking you raw and rough, just like he imagined – a primal claiming in this way too lovely kitchen. His cock slides in and out of you smoothly; the indecent sound of skin slapping against skin and the sliding noise of your wet cunt filling the room. 

Each thrust elicits a moan or sigh of ecstasy, you whisper Lucci’s name like a prayer, like if it was the only word you ever learned and heard about in your whole life. Hypnotized, Lucci watches his length disappearing inside you again and again. He spreads your thighs wider with his knees, going even deeper, squeezing your ass cheeks to have a better view of your pussy swallowing his length, coating it with your juice. Oh, you’re so perfect, your back muscles flexing as he pounds into you, how your body is always responding to his… 

Your nails claw the cool wood of the countertop, trying to hold onto something but you can’t find any grip. Lucci notices your struggles, pulls out brutally and grabs your hips, lifting you up effortlessly and sitting you on the countertop. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist as he slams back inside you, with even more intensity. His face is a masterpiece of raw desire, primal need. Pupils dilated, jaws clenched tightly, sweat dripping on his forehead, his pretty long, black ink hair all messy. Lucci grabs your hips to pull you closer to the edge of the counter. “Look at me”, he orders, his eyes darkening. 

You obey, looking at him, your lips partly open, your eyes half-lidded and full of lust, your breasts bouncing with each thrust. And Lucci drinks in this sight as he slides in and out, giving you his entire length. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You whisper, knowing he’s holding back just because he doesn’t want to leave marks on you that could place you in an embarrassing situation at the kindergarten. 

Lucci’s eyes flash with pure lust, and something feral takes over him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back sharply to expose your neck. He bites down hard on the tender, soft flesh, marking you deeply – the other teachers can go to hell. His hips snap forward brutally, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly, claws out, leaving bruises and scratches everywhere on your skin. “Mine…” He grunts like a hungry predator, feline. “Yours.”

He’s fucking you with animalistic hunger, bitting your lower lip so hard it bleeds slightly, and he licks the drop of blood with a low growl of nothing but pure satisfaction. His teeth mark you everywhere on your neck, then your collarbone, hungry hickeys on your breasts, he claims every damn inch of your skin. Lucci doesn’t share. Never. A feline keeps its prey for itself. Even more when the prey happens to be his beautiful wife and a talented, merciless agent at the same time. 

You grab Lucci’s hair, locking your eyes onto his. This gaze… it screams he wants to fill you up so much that it leaks out of you tomorrow. Each thrust is designed to plant his seed inside you. “Gonna fill this perfect little cunt up so fucking full of my cum. You want it? Want me to breed you right here on this counter?” His voice drops dark, smooth, that voice able to send shudders and shivers through your entire body. “Answer.” Lucci urges you, grabbing your chin roughly, his claws digging in the delicate flesh of your face. “Do it…” You almost beg and Lucci loses the last piece of his self-control, his balls tightening at your words. He pounds into you desperately now – like a beast possessed with one single goal: breeding, claiming, marking. He aims for your cervix with each thrust. 

“You…” He starts, his voice sounding like a delicious, forbidden threat, his thumb circling your clit firmly. “I’m going to fill you up until it’s leaking out of this pretty little cunt… but you won’t waste any single drop, I’ll stuff everything right back into you. Even tomorrow you will still have my fucking cum trying to drop down your legs and you will keep it deep down inside you.” 

Face flushed, dripping wet, you grab a fist of Lucci’s hair. He buries his face in your neck, biting you. Tomorrow, you will get back to your duties, you will erase all this stupid talk about starting a family… But for now, he can’t even think about work. His cock throbs inside you, his heavy balls slamming against your ass, begging for release. With a pretty, dangerous grunt, Lucci plunges his teeth in the crook of your neck and slams into you one last time with all his might. His cock pulses violently as he cum inside you, the first hot rope of seed hitting deep in your womb, exactly where he wants it most. You shiver, holding Lucci’s hair like if it was your lifeline, your legs trembling as more streams of cum pump directly inside you. “Damn you,” Lucci whispers against your sore, bruised, marked skin as he thrusts slowly inside you, emptying his balls completely into you. You can feel his seed coating your walls, making a mess inside your cunt. 

You never felt so good, so full in your whole life. 

Feeling Lucci’s seed inside you for the first time… it’s pure heaven. 

When he pulls out, his cum leaks out of you, making a mess on your thighs and on the floor. But instead of eating you out to clean you up whenever you’re soaking as he always does, Lucci nearly roars, pushing you back against the counter. His fingers stuff you back with each single leaking drop, as promised. “Don’t you dare move. Keep it all inside. Shut your legs.” Exhausted, skin dewy with sweat, your shut your trembling legs. “Better.” 

The kitchen of your lovely, fake house is a mess. Your clothes ripped in pieces on the floor, the countertop all wet with your sweat and how you soaked wet on it. But Lucci doesn’t care. He adjusts his pants before carrying you effortlessly, bridal style. As he walks to the bedroom, he purrs. 

“You’re going to sleep stuffed full of me tonight.”

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