The Leopard Prince

Rob Lucci

(Note: this man… I’m not normal about him)

Rob Lucci is a man of focus.

He doesn’t melt, doesn’t break, doesn’t bend.

A machine, if you must.

He was overlooking some reports concerning updates of the Underworld; feet landed on top of the table, his hat and tie slung over the chair. Even Hattori was nudging on some seeds by the table. He had that usual look on his face.

The: half-bored-half-scowling-cus-I’m-broody-and-stoic- look.

And that’s when you came in—he doesn’t glance, doesn’t look your way but he knows it’s you just from the steps.

“I’m working, so unless it’s important—“

You leech onto him in an embrace.

He freezes. Not blinking.

You dig your face into his neck. Burying. Nuzzling. Kissing him. Only then does he take his gaze to you. Letting go of the reports.

“… is everything as it should—?”

“Rob,” your hand places on his cheek, tilting his face to you as you give him a kiss on the lips. Quick, gentle, before giving him another three pecks on his cheek. Meanwhilst, you manoeuvre into his lap.

“Hey.” He says — and you only crash your face back into his neck. Humming. Taking in his scent. Dark cologne and brandy. He hesitates placing his hands on you.

“What’s gotten into you.” He tries to catch your gaze but you’ve made yourself at home under his chin.

“Rob…”

“Hm?”

“Call me pretty.”

He blinks. Lips parting.

And then a hand goes to your face. Pulling your cheek.

“Owowowow—“

He let’s go.

“What was that for!?” You rub your cheek, giving him a frown.

“I had to check if you were the real deal.” He leans back and you hmph.

Burying your face back in his neck.

… he’s not saying you’re pretty. You decide to punish him. Just a little. You give his neck a lick. A kiss. A nibble. Just a small one.

Rob is a man of focus. Doesn’t break, doesn’t bend, doesn’t melt. But for the first time in a long, long time—he flinches. Tenses.

“Did something happen?” He says at last and you shake your head. “No. I just missed you Rob.” You say, nestling your face into him. You adjust your seat in his lap, so to angle yourself deeper, closer to him. “I missed you so much.”

He blinks, and carefully, carefully, he places his hands above your shoulder blades. Breathing as slowly as he can.

… right. Aha.

Sure. He’ll buy it.

His heart didn’t skip a beat. No. Absolutely not. Not Rob Lucci. And he’s not breaking, or bending or melting at all. Not at all — not even when he places his hand on the small of your back. pulling you closer. Kissing you back. (Lies)

Rob will let you rub yourself against him, like a cat marking her territory. He does not mind. No in fact, when your scent sticks to his shirt, he’ll hesitate putting it into the washer. But only hesitating.

Sir Crocodile

He was pissed.

Well. When isn’t Crocodile pissed?

Probably when he’s reading about rare mushrooms and where to gather them. Or when he overlooks his bananawani, like a proud father who can’t admit he has a soft spot for them.

Now, however — he isn’t smiling. Or laughing. Or smirking. No the man is scowling. Hard. The report paper crumbling in his hands as he sees Buggy’s spending habits finally starting to catch up to his schemes.

That’s when you tiptoe your way in to his office. He does not look your way, only takes a quick smoke before taking his cigar out his mouth. “Not now darling; I’m in the middle of work—“

You lock him in to an embrace without so much a word and he freezes.

He feels you nudging your face into his spine. Pulling him deeper from behind.

He glances over his shoulder. A sweat droplet slipping down his cheek. “… are you well? Did something happen—?” He turns to face you but you won’t let go.

You shake your head. Face buried in his chest. Arms still locked around his waist.

The report paper is suddenly all forgotten as it trickles down the floor. “You sure—?”

You press your face deeper into his chest.

He smells so good. Like something refined and expensive; you can’t get enough of it. Enough of him.

You look up from his waist and he tenses at the sight of your face. Flushed cheeks and eyes begging for more.

“I missed you; I want to be near you. Is that okay? Or are you too busy?” You don’t mean to sound whiny or pleading but whatever tone you’re using; it’s working.

He sets his work aside for you — steers you both down into his arm chair. Letting you nestle close into his chest, his skin.

You tug onto him like a little kitten mewling for its mother. You take in his scent, more and more and more, not once getting enough. You even earn a chuckle from him.

“You’re clingy today—what’s the change of heart?”

You withdraw only so you can stare at his handsome, smug face. You lean in and steal a kiss on the lips. Then on his cheek, jaw, nose and eye lid. You kiss everywhere and anywhere, ending it again on his lips.

His face is twitching as he tries his best to hold his composure.

“Jus’ missed you.”

“… I see.” He says, a smirk pulling on his lip. Tugging you closer.

He won’t be letting you go for a good while.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

Law just finished an operation.

Figuratively speaking; he’s dead.

All he wants is to catch a nap before sunrise — opening his bedroom door however, he’ll spot you sitting on his bed.

He blinks; watching you inch closer. Your steps slow, deliberate—as if prowling for a kill.

“Hey, what’s up—?”

You lunge your arms over his shoulders, tiptoeing as you bring him into an embrace.

He tenses. Immediately.

Even when you press yourself against him, even when you take in the scent of him and your hands travel up his shoulders, to his neck and into his hair.

Your voice goes dangerously close to his ear. “Law… you smell so good.”

He blinks. Seven times to be exact.

“… yeah…?”

“Mhm.” You pull away, smiling. Arms still slung over his shoulders.

The tips of his ear are shot red.

You’re smiling, and your cheeks are round but he decides to ask anyways. “Is everything alright?”

You nod, leaning in and stealing a peck on his lips, hands sliding down to his chest. You tug him, steering him to bed.

“Uhhhhhhh—“ is what leaves his mouth when you press him down onto his mattress and climb over him. Locking your body over his. Digging your face under his collarbones.

“Hey. Babe.” He looks up, now it isn’t just his ears being red, but his face too. “I— uh, I—?”

You glance up from his chest. “Shhh. Just let me hug you and enjoy it while it lasts.

The Surgeon of Death folds like a piece of paper.

Yeah sure — whatever his pretty girl wants.

Law sinks back down onto his pillow. Letting out the biggest breath from his chest. Heart pounding a little bit too fast.

He’s gonna sleep good tonight alright.

Donquixote Doflamingo

Donquixote Doflamingo.

Controlled, flamboyant and charismatic. Enough to fool a King and his kingdom that is.

It was dead in the night. He had just tucked you in a few hours ago.

Now — he was overlooking some of Vergo’s reports, wine glass half empty as he hears you tiptoeing inside his office.

He glances to you, this time; he wore no glasses or a grin. His eyes were tired, his face quiet but when you enter with a blanket wrapped around yourself—you earn a small incredulous little smirk.

“Oh? Can’t sleep cariña?” He says putting down the reports as you inch near.

You don’t say anything as you approach him, only looming over him when you finally come close.

He doesn’t pull you in — just watching your pretty face. “What’s the matter? Is there something you want—?”

You lift your blanket, wrapping it over him with you. You come close, leaning into his hair. Taking in the scent of him.

For a moment — Doflamingo just blinks.

Even as you come closer, pulling him to you with the blanket and nestling your face into his neck.

“You’re warm.” You say, and move into his lap. Only then does Doffy look up. Brows pulling. “… are you upset? Did something happen?”

You shake your head. Adjusting your seat on his crotch. “No, I jus’ wanna be near you. That’s all. Promise.”

Funnily enough — the way he lets you settle in, it’s almost a bit clumsy. His hands hover above your hips, he leans back as if to not invade your space and his shoulders are tense.

But when you rest your cheek on his chest only then does he soften up.

He lands his hands on top of your shoulder blades. Bringing you close. Face leaning down to your ear. Voice hot on your skin.

“What’s with the special treatment?” He grins, “is there something you want—?”

“Yes.” You look up to him “I missed you. I want to feel you, be with you. That’s what I want.”

And it’s like you stole his breath away. He blinks, chest empty. Grin immediately gone and something vulnerable, something raw appears on his face.

For once — this charlatan is at loss for words.

The fact that you want him, even when you know his true nature—it brings such a soft ache in his chest that he can’t describe as anything but relief.

When you see that he can’t answer you only give him a sheepish smile. Kissing the corner of his lip.

“Don’t get all ahead of yourself — I’m just clingy for tonight.” You say, tugging onto him. Burying your face in his neck.

And he scoffs.

Embracing and kissing you back.

Roronoa Zoro

He was sharpening his sword when you trudged inside.

He gives you one sharp glance. “If you’re gonna nag about how I forgot to buy you snacks then—“

Your steps are fast, hard—plunging. And before he knows it, you’re grabbing onto his bicep.

He freezes. Whatever he was doing with his sword — long forgotten.

For a moment; there is just silence between you two.

You nudging your face into his arm.

Him malfunctioning from your sudden switch in behaviour.

He glances to you, almost motorically.

“Oi. What’s going on.”

You cling onto him harder. And when you kiss his bicep, only then does he flinch.

“H-hey, if this is some tactic to go get me run you errands, it’s not working—“

“Zoro,” you breathe, looking up to him.

And he turns pink.

Must you be so damn pretty lady?

He clicks his tongue, looking away.

Returning to sharpening his sword.

You tug onto him. “Zoro.”

He pretends you aren’t there.

“Zorooooo” you whine, pulling him and tugging his arm but he tries his best to ignore his heart pounding out of his chest.

“What is it.” He bites back when you lunge over his back. Your chest pressed onto his shoulder blades as you lean over his shoulders.

“Pay attention to meee~” you whine out and looks to you. Eye twitching.

“Did something happen? You’re awfully clingy.”

You make a face and he grumbles.

Damn it. Fine. You win. Whatever.

He turns to face you, and you immediately push your face between his pecs.

Arms slung over his shoulders. You take in the scent of him. He smells so good, you just want to bite him.

“Everything alright?” He says at last, carefully bringing you close and you shake your head. “I missed you. I just wanna be with you. That’s all.”

“You sure that’s all—?”

You bring your mouth to his neck. Kissing him. Nibbling him.

“You smell so good. I want to eat you.”

He blinks. And then closes his eye. Sighing. Admitting defeat.

He’ll let you cling yourself onto him, let you rub and kiss him. Heart pounding out of his chest.

And when this moment of yours is over; he’ll miss it more than a touch starved sailor at sea.

The door opened without warning, like a blade sliding from its sheath. No knock, no greeting—just silence. You looked up from the chair where you’d been waiting, the half-read book still in your lap.

Rob Lucci stepped inside, as he always did, wordless and grave. His coat fell across his shoulders like a shadow, movements deliberate, controlled. You’d grown used to his presence filling the room before his body did, but tonight it felt different. Heavy.

He closed the door with a quiet click and didn’t move for a moment, simply stood there watching you. His eyes—green and sharp as a predator’s—didn’t flick away as they normally might. They stayed, unwavering, cutting through you as if weighing every breath you took.

The silence stretched.

“You’re early,” you said softly, voice breaking the hush.

He didn’t answer right away. His gloves came off with unhurried precision, fingers flexing once before his hands slid into his pockets. He moved forward, each step unhurried yet final, until he stood just in front of you.

“Something wrong?” you asked, cautious.

His gaze lowered, tracking the slope of your shoulders, the way you set the book aside. His silence was not unusual, but tonight it carried an edge—like a bowstring pulled taut. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, and yet something under it trembled, a thread pulled too tight.

“You’re not leaving me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a verdict.

You blinked, caught off guard. A laugh almost escaped you—half nervous, half incredulous. “I wasn’t planning to.”

That should have settled it, you thought. But his jaw tightened and his stare stayed fixed on you as though waiting for a different answer.

Then, without preamble, his hand withdrew from his coat pocket. A small, square box sat in his palm—plain, unpolished, as unceremonious as the man himself. He didn’t open it. Didn’t soften. He just set it on the table beside you with a sound far louder in the silence than it should have been.

“Then prove it.” His voice had dropped to something even quieter, almost dangerous. “Marry me.”

The words didn’t land like a romantic confession. They hit like an order, like the final word of a sentence he’d been turning over in his mind for too long. A demand for permanence, not decoration.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Slowly, you looked at the box. Not velvet, not extravagant—just practical. Heavy. Like him.

“Lucci…” You breathed his name, uncertain.

He leaned forward slightly, close enough for his shadow to spill over you, close enough for you to feel the coiled restraint in his body. “I don’t ask.” His tone sharpened, cutting through your hesitation. “Not for this. You say yes, or you’ll regret the other answer.”

It wasn’t a threat—not exactly. It was a confession, delivered in the only way he knew how. You had always known he was possessive. Always known that beneath his restraint was a violence that only you were allowed to touch. But now it burned in his words, stripped bare of pretense.

You reached for the box, lifting the lid with careful fingers. Inside was a ring—unadorned, no glittering stone, just a solid band of metal that gleamed in the dim light. A ring meant to last, to withstand, to endure. Just like him.

Silence fell again as you looked at it, at him, then back down. Your heart hammered, caught between fear and something deeper, something bone-deep that had rooted itself in you the day you first chose to stay by his side.

When your eyes rose to meet his again, the hunger there was unmasked. He wasn’t asking for an answer. He was claiming it.

“Yes,” you whispered.

It was enough.

The air shifted. The tension holding his shoulders rigid bled away in increments so small most people wouldn’t notice. But you did. You saw it in the way his chest eased, in the faint unclenching of his jaw, in the slow exhale he allowed himself.

He took your hand in his, large and calloused, his grip firm and unyielding as he slid the ring onto your finger. It was heavy, grounding, a band you could never mistake for anything delicate. His hand lingered over yours, thumb pressing against the ring, as if to seal it there.

When he finally leaned down, his lips pressed against yours with the kind of intensity that made your chest ache. No tenderness, no hesitation—just raw, consuming need.

“Good,” he murmured against your mouth, breath hot and unrelenting. “You’re mine. Always.”

And for a moment—dangerous, suffocating, and yet achingly real—you believed that was exactly what you wanted to be.

“Come in.” Lucci commands firmly, his hand resting on the small of your back. Confused, you enter the luxurious hotel bedroom, quickly scanning the room, making sure everything is secure. Even on your day off, you can’t shake off your CP0 agent reflexes. Lucci notices how your eyes dart from one corner to the other, he closes the door with a soft click and whispers. “Everything is fine. I already checked the room.” He says, his tone gentle yet firm. You nod, but still, you don’t understand why Lucci decided to bring you here. The queen-sized bed looks really appealing, but the ceiling mirror is… scary. The walls as well - giant mirrors everywhere. 

“Lucci, what is this?” You ask nervously as he guides you inside the room until you’re facing the mirrors. Lucci is so tall your head can’t even reach his shoulder, you feel so little beside him - like a prey inside this bedroom. “You’re not scared of blood and murders but mirrors are making you tremble.” Lucci comments calmly, his arm wrapping your small waist, pulling your back against his firm chest. “Just watch.” He murmurs, the mirror reflecting your small form sandwiched between his well-shaped arms. You watch Lucci’s hand sliding from your waist to your chin, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “These lovely lips… you won’t bite them today.” 

His hand moves to cup your breasts through your clothes, his palm pressing against your chest, listening to your heart thumping loudly with each beat. “No biting while I’m inside you this time.” He purrs, keeping your lips open with his thumb. “You’re going to see exactly what I see when I fuck you.” 

You blush, turning your head immediately to avoid your reflection. “Lucci, I can’t do this. I look so stupid and you know it. Always crying and whining, I don’t want to see how ugly and ridiculous I am when you fuck me!” You protest, but Lucci turns your head back to face the mirror with a firm hand, the other moving from your breasts to your waist to hold you in place. “Shh,” he hushes sternly, his cold voice leaving no room for argument. “You will watch.” His fingers run through your hair, brushing your neck, playing with your nipple through the fabric of your shirt. “And you will see how beautiful you are.”  

He pinches your nipple, you bite your lips instinctively, but Lucci clicks his tongue. “Open.” He instructs strictly, rolling your nipple between his fingers. For once, he doesn’t rip your clothes apart, unbuttoning your shirt like a normal person. The tissue cascades on the floor with a soft sound, revealing your bare stomach and your bra. With one smooth move, he unhook the delicate lace fabric, letting it fall on the ground. “Your breasts are always bouncing when I’m taking you nice and deep... or rough and hard…” He purrs, his voice dripping with genuine admiration and dark desire.  The setting is so intimidating yet sensual, Lucci’s tall silhouette looming over yours like a threat, yet his words surprisingly gentle. “Your mouth is always open, panting and crying out my name. Your eyes are always closed, too embarrassed to watch me. But today, they will stay open.” He leans, kissing your neck, the sensitive spot at the back of your ear. “Because I’m going to fuck you right now.” Lucci purrs, pushing your skirt down slowly, letting it pool around your feet. 

You’re left in just your panties and heels, your frame looking even more delicate next to his one. “And you will watch.” Lucci repeats again, making sure you won’t look away as he takes off your panties. You shift uncomfortably, freeing your feet from your heels, totally naked, vulnerable, standing in front of the mirror. Lucci presses his hardening cock into his pants, making you feel how much he wants you. 

Anxiety blends with desire, the bitter taste of nervousness spreading down your throat as your gaze follows Lucci every move, how he’s taking his sweet time to unbutton his shirt, then his pants, making sure you’re drinking in the sight of his toned chest and abs. The second he’s naked, Lucci doesn't give you more time to admire his reflection - he carries you effortlessly as he sits down comfortably on the queen size bed, his back resting against the soft pillows. It could be so tender, so intimate, sensual and romantic… him carrying you bridal style, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other lifting up your thighs… and his cockhead pressing against your wet cunt. “Lucci… wait.” You whimper, overwhelmed by the mirrors everywhere and the position - it’s a new one, incredible, steamy, but right now so scary. “Shh,” Lucci shushes you, biting your skin gently for once, leaving a trail of hickeys on your collarbone. His arms tighten around you possessively, keeping you in his warm embrace. 

Surrounded by all the mirrors, you shut your eyes closed, but Lucci bites your neck harder, the pain forcing you to open them wide again. “I said you will watch.” He grunts against your skin, licking the red mark left by his teeth.

You nuzzle your face in the crook of Lucci’s neck, tightening your arms around it, but you can’t hide from the mirrors - they are following you everywhere, it doesn’t matter where you’re looking. Lucci lifts up your thighs slightly, adjusting your position, before easing you down onto his length slowly, inch by inch, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror reflection - you see; your lips partly open on a silent moan, your slippery hole swallowing all his length. You never thought bridal style could be so obscene. The mirror reflects every angle, the ceiling one teasing you, reflecting your bouncing breasts and your face when your eyes roll back each time Lucci guides you up and down. “See how you’re always dripping wet and coating my cock.” He murmurs, adjusting your position so the front mirror can reveal more of his length sliding inside you, glistening with your wetness. 

“And when I fuck you harder… your breasts are bouncing just like this.” Lucci purrs, building a rhythm, filling the room with squelching noises, your little moans and Lucci’s low grunts against your skin - he bites your shoulder, your nipple, leaving hickeys everywhere, claiming you as always. The mirror perfectly captures how his muscles are flexing, his arms working each time he lifts and lowers you on his cock. "That's it, keep watching. See your little mouth? So pretty when you don't bite your lips. Listen to your moans. And stop nuzzling your face against my neck, I want to see your face better.” 

You obey shyly, cheeks flushed at the sight of his hard cock sliding in and out of you. Brutally, he lifts you up until just the tip remains inside, then pulls you back down, burying himself to the hilt, your cunt dripping wet on his length, balls and thighs. You gasp as he keeps doing it again and again, breaking you until your moans turn into these adorable little whimpers you hate so much. “Lucci, I can’t-” 

“You can.” He answers quickly. “Look at how beautiful you are. That’s what I see when I fuck you. Pretty bouncing breasts, perfect ass, little cunt taking me so well, beautiful legs, toes curled, face flushed, half-lidded eyes full of lust, messy hair… I dare you to say you’re ugly right now.” 

Your reflection is just as Lucci is describing it - taking him so well, so beautiful, overwhelmed, pleasure written all over your face. You squirm, whimpering, Lucci’s cockhead bullying your sweet spot, his tongue flicking over your nipple, his claws scratching your waist while his other arm continues to support your thighs and lifts you up and down. “I love watching at my hands, how big they are when they wrap your waist or your throat,” He continues, whispering everything he loves about you, his gaze in the mirrors locking to yours. “All I see is a beautiful woman, my wife.” He murmurs, scratching you, biting you possessively. 

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, face scrunched up in that pathetic - cute - expression he loves so much. “See how you’re taking me so well? Whenever I look at how you’re greedy cunt is swallowing my length, I’m losing my mind,” He confesses, fucking you harder, hitting your sweet spot on purpose until tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. “No… I don’t want to see how stupid I am when I cry… just ‘cause I can’t handle how good it feels.” You whine, trying to hide, but you’re trapped: no way out. The mirrors are following you, like a thousand eyes admiring you from all the angles - and Lucci’s gaze is glued to your face, his eyes shining with this usual predator glint. “Pretty tears running down your cheeks when you’re close…” He whispers, licking your tears. “Salty. Cute. I love when you fall apart and cry - it turns me on.” You can only believe him, his cock is throbbing and twitching inside you as tears fall free, your cries echoing in the bedroom. Lucci grunts, your pussy clenching around his girth like a vice. “Always spasming around me when you’re about to cum. Crying rivers just for me. So perfect.” He slams you up and down, your strangled voice breaking when you cum violently, dripping wet, tears falling again and again. 

“Just like that. So breathtaking.” Lucci licks your tears hungrily, pounding into you mercilessly, making sure to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible, the mirrors reflect your completely ruined face, red cheeks, mouth open and puffy cunt pulsing, clenching. “Perfect face. Perfect whimpers. Perfect tears.” He keeps thrusting inside you slowly, riding out your orgasm, keeping your hole filled with his cock. “Your tears taste so sweet…” Lucci murmurs, licking the little drops of salty water cascading on your lips, his fingers caressing your wet eyelashes. Your legs stop trembling, your body relaxes, soothed by Lucci’s arms and words. But his cock remains painfully hard inside you. 

Lucci’s lips are so sweet, kissing you, making you taste your little tears. But when you break the kiss, he stares at you with this gaze - predatory, hungry. In a blink, he pulls out, flipping you on your stomach, knees sinking into the mattress, ass high in the air. Cruelly, Lucci tugs on your hair, forcing you to watch at your reflection as he slams back inside you, your mouth opening in a silent scream as more tears run on your cheeks. 

“Now you’re going to see yourself when I fuck you like I mean it.” He promises darkly, biting your shoulder, teeth plunging deep into your soft flesh, claws painfully gripping your hips. “You’re going to look at how deep I take you, how your back is always perfectly arched for me, the little jiggles of your ass… and how you’re turning me-on.” He pants, sweat dripping from his forehead, his long hair totally messy as he loses himself in his usual, predatory frenzy.

And you watch. Hypnotized, mesmerized. 

Yes, now you get it - you understand why Lucci loves to admire your face. Because right now, you could cum just from the sight of Lucci fucking you hard and deep, marking you, making sure everyone knows who you belong to. 

You’re his and only his. 

Only he can taste your tears, listen to your cute whimpers, and drink in the sight of your flushed face. Only he knows his partner both in life and work - a dangerous spy, assassin, is reduced to a whinny mess each time his cock is stretching you wide open.

Only you know that Lucci, the cold, merciless assassin is always losing his religion when the woman he loves is falling apart in front of him and just for him.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.

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“I’ll never drink this tea again.” Lucci's face is slightly flushed, his long hair all messy, falling free on his forehead. Sitting lazily on the couch, your legs resting on Lucci’s laps, back comfortably pressed against the cushion, you finish your own cup of tea, licking your lips. “Really? But it’s soothing, the perfect drink before going to bed.” You answer, savoring the sweet flavor of apple, cinnamon, ginger, and almond. 

Lucci’s eyes track your tongue as you lick your lips innocently, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. The warm, spicy aroma of the tea wafts up his nose, mixing with the sweet scent of your skin. “It’s making my head spin.” He mutters, his pupils dilated with lust and insatiable need. “Poor you,” You tease, amused to see your so cold and controlled husband losing his strict demeanor. 

But then, your heart misses a beat. 

Lucci’s eyes darken dangerously. With a sudden grunt, he lunges forward, catching your legs and throwing them off his lap. Before you have the chance to react, he flips you over onto your stomach, pressing your face against the couch cushions. The cup of tea collapses on the ground, but Lucci ignores the shattered china. He pins you down with his body, gripping your wrists and pulling them behind your back. “Poor me?” He repeats, his voice dripping with dominance and an insatiable need. You gasp. Damn, you’re supposed to be a trained spy and assassin just like him. He took you by surprise. It looks like you need to train even more seriously. Ain’t no way for you to be a miserable CP0 agent. 

“Fuck, Lucci!” Lucci releases your wrists briefly to tear off his own shirt, exposing his muscular, warm chest to the cool air, but it’s not enough to calm down the fire igniting his blood. Your goddamn tea has him completely under its spell, turning him into a needy man driven by primal need and fuck, he hates this feeling of not being in control. “You think it’s funny?” He shifts his grip on your wrists, pulling them higher up your back, forcing your chest to arch and press against the couch, the movement pushing your ass higher into the air. “I swear… if you don’t ask me to stop right now, I’ll show you what I think of your ‘funny’.” He pants, giving you a chance to step back, fighting against his dark urges.

The air rushes out of your lungs when Lucci’s tug violently on your hair, his claws ready to rip your clothes into pieces. “I won’t run away… I want to see how you look when you lose control.” You reply with confidence. You’re an experiment agent after all, you won’t back down or be scared that easily. Quite the opposite, you love the thrill… you never saw Lucci in such a state, losing his religion, his precious controlled attitude. 

The aphrodisiac is cursing through his veins like wildfire, burning away any semblance of rationality. At your words, he sighs in relief and rips apart your clothes, exposing your bare skin to the air of the living room. Lucci’s hands grip your hips roughly, positioning you exactly how he wants you – ass up, chest down against the couch cushion. Your knees sink into the couch, your nails trying to grip the armrest. Lucci runs his claws down your spine, gripping your hips higher. “You’ve never seen me lose control because I’ve never lost control…” He leans down, his voice a low, dangerous purr in your ear. “Until now.” 

He’s manhandling you so roughly, back arch in such a sadist angle it would break the spine of anyone unused to cipher pol’s agents training. This angle would be agonizing for anyone else, but you’re used to handling pain, to working stamina, and flexibility. Lost in his frenzy, aroused by the vision of you, all spread out and helpless, Lucci spanks your ass roughly. Your trained hearing captures the sound of tissue being reduced into nothing, then you feel Lucci’s hard length pressing against your cunt. He grips your thighs, spreading your legs wider apart. “Fuck.” He whispers, his eyes glued to your cunt. The angle is indecent, your back arched sharply, ass lifted high, wet pussy wide open for him. Lucci grips your thighs, spreading them even more until they balance on the edge of the couch. If you move slightly, then you will fall off the floor covered with shattered china.

“Funny…” Lucci repeats mockingly, watching how you’re trying to keep your balance. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady, his free hand gripping his cock, lining his tip against your needy, wet hole. “Hold onto the armrest tightly.” He warns before smashing inside you with a brutal, deep thrust that lifts your body off the couch. Everything is obscene and animalistic; he pounds into you with needy thrusts, full of lust and primal need. His hands steady you and pin you down at the same time. 

Lucci is fucking you with wild abandon, his hips slamming against your ass with each violent thrust, his movements erratic and aggressive. He’s hitting your cervix with every stroke, eliciting choked gasps and muffled cries from your pretty lips. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with your strained breaths and Lucci’s low grunts. His claws dig into the couch next to your head for leverage as he pounds into you like an animal in a rut.

Damn. 

You’re sharing Lucci’s life since so many years. Yet, he has never been that feral. Such a shame. It feels amazing. The idea of your lover totally giving himself to you, without holding back is incredible, indescribable. He can’t even control his powers anymore, his growls turning into feral snarls as his claws dig deeper into your skin, leaving red welts and scratches everywhere on your body. Violently, he tugs on your hair, biting down your shoulder hard enough to leave teeth marks. The poor couch creaks under the force of his thrusts, threatening to break from the brutal pounding. 

“Fuck… so tight and wet… already clenching around me…” Lucci purrs against your shoulder, his hips snapping against your ass. He loves how your cunt clamps down around his cock, how you’re taking his roughness with such eagerness. You squirm, tremble, short of breath, Lucci’s tip punching your sweet spot and your cervix without mercy, reducing you into a pathetic, whinny mess until you cum, milking his cock. Lucci doesn’t stop, savoring your cute little moans and whimper as he fucks you through your orgasm, holding you when your legs shake violently, unable to support your weight anymore. 

Suddenly, he pulls out. In a blink, he sits down on the couch, pulling you onto his lap, forcing your back against his chest, your thighs spread wide open. With one smooth yet brutal motion, he impales you on his length again and again, your breasts bouncing crazily. “So fucking deep,” You whine. Lucci bites the back of your neck, keeping his teeth plunged into your soft skin as he pounds into you. His length is so hard, throbbing inside you, the aphrodisiac bullying both his brain and body.

With each stroke, his cockhead is hitting your sweet spot perfectly until you’re dripping wet, your juice coating his length. Sloshing noises are filling the living room. Lucci releases your neck, only to bite your earlobe, then your shoulders, marking you everywhere, claiming you. 

He’s so pussy drunk, he can’t get enough of you. “Taking me so well,” he pants, his face buried in your neck. Turned-on, satisfied to know you're the only one allowed to see Lucci in such a state, you let him pound into you hard and deep. “This fucking cunt…” With a violent move, he shoves you forward onto the coffee table, pressing your upper body down hard against the surface. He grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back onto his cock with a brutal thrust that makes the table shake. 

“Can’t get enough…” He confesses between two heavy breaths, biting your earlobe. “Your fucking tea… I hate it…” His body is warm against you, all dewy with sweat. “Fucking hate it.” He repeats, voice thick with need to cum, to find release, his cock throbbing inside you without managing to reach climax. 

The aphrodisiac is making him insatiable. He leans over you, panting into your ear. “Fuck I can't… you can handle me a little more?” His voice is so weak, coming out as a plea. “I can.” You answer, gasping. 

Lucci sighs in relief, his cock painfully hard inside you. “Good girl.” He praises, pulling out before slamming back, burying himself to the hilt. His messy hair is falling free on his face, all wet with sweat, his whole body dewy, flushed. “Need you…” 

With a low, dangerous purr, he tightens his hands on your hips. 

Oh, you’re here for a long, long time. Lucci is hungry and only you can satisfy his appetite.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.

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☆ Eustass "Captain" Kid :

Kid is not someone discreet in his advances, he wants a good fuck: he says it, that's how he works. You are shy. He doesn't care. You are whiny. It's annoying but bearable, he can always silence you. This man loves you as you are, he wants you, only you, just for him.

He really takes your pleasure to heart, as much or even more than his. For him, sex is not only a source of pleasure, a moment when he lets go of his frustration as a captain, it's especially a moment that you spend just the two of you, a moment where neither of you thinks about the crew, to a plan to destroy Emperor Shanks or the Marines who would like you to kill yourself and the values you defend. It's the two of you and nothing but the two of you for several hours of pleasure, love and noises.

He loves anal sex and taking you in doggy style, seeing your cute little ass bounce, spanking you, yeah, it's his thing to take you from behind. On the contrary, he is not very role-playing, it doesn't make him especially horny.

Kid is someone abrupt and it's generally valid in bed too. He tries not to spend too much time with foreplay, he is a man of action he doesn't particularly like waiting but he does it, no one would want to see his lover torn apart. Once ready, it slowly penetrates you with a slight grunt, you are still as tight and he is still as fat so you both need to (re)get used to it. A few seconds later, he will start pounding you, he moves quickly and firmly inside you, letting out some occasional moans of pleasure.

Kid is very enduring, surely because of his intensive training. He takes a moment to enjoy but never holds back, he knows that it's you who will crack first and he loves to see you getting your kicks, hear you if you are on your stomach. When it's his turn to come, he does not go easy: it is a torrent of semen that goes straight to your cervix and often brings you into a new intense orgasm.

He can also take it easy, it all depends on his mood and circumstances: if you are tired, have your period or are still recovering from an injury (that's true for him too), he will be gentle in his own way.

If ever he really goes too hard, never forget, the safe word is "Lipstick".

☆ Killer :

Killer almost never asks you to have sex first, not because he doesn't want it or for lack of self-confidence, sometimes he is afraid of being too clingy and doesn't want you force yourself to do anything even if he would gladly make love to you every day. If it's you who ask him, he is sure that this is what you want and not just to please him.

Sex is one of the only moments when you see him without his mask, he is completely exposed during the act not only because he knows that if someone opens the door, he will surely die within a minute only Kid can't afford not to respect the rule "do not disturb, love in progress" - but especially because he trusts you and knows that you will never judge him. The Victoria Punk is his safe place, near Kid, the crew and you.

What he likes the most is to eat your pussy with expert tongues and take you on as a missionary, it's a simple, classic position and it makes kisses easier. Killer really likes to see your face, your facial expressions, your wet lips that open and close can only moan so much it's good. The more you make small sounds, the more it's exciting for him.

Killer's preliminaries are very gentle: first the hugs, then lots of sloshy kisses. After a while, both of you can no longer stand it, you undress quickly and almost in unison: he rethrotes your breasts, teasing and nipples while you jerk him off rigorously, exactly as he likes.

When he finally penetrates you, it's always slow, he is aware of his size and he wouldn't want to hurt you or anything like that. As he is at least as enduring as Kid, you have at least several orgasms before he enjoys - it's up to you if you will accept a second round.

Know that in the end you will find yourself all red or purple, it all depends on how he fucked you and the shade of lipstick he had put that day.

As previously said, he is always gentle with you but he has always insisted on having a safe word, in the end you chose "chainsaw".

☆ Rob Lucci :

Lucci is also a frank person, he never hides his needs. The only true difference between him and Kid - is that he's really very busy, sometimes too much to take care of your little pussy in need. He happens to catch you quickly on his desk, between two mission reports. So inevitably, when you make love for real, whether in bed or in the bathroom it's long, intense and full of pleasure.

During the act, his feline side reappears: he scratches you, licks you, rubs his soft fur against you – Lucci loves it and he knows that you do too. He likes to gag you or blindfold you with his tie – either to stifle your moans or to intensify your sensations. He also cuts your panties with his claws before licking them like a thirsty man, as a cat would do with its bowl of milk.

He usually takes you in a "V", one leg on the bed and the other raised on his shoulder to facilitate the comings and goings of his enormous dick. He rarely lets you ride him, as he prefers to have control, he grabs your hips and measures your movements - gradually accelerating before enjoying. Even when he is tired after a long day, he prefers to take you in a spoon so as to always control his movements well even when exhausted.

He always penetrates you in his leopard form, increasing the size of his dick and therefore sensations. It's not all that is tenfold his endurance too: he can make love to you for hours without being tired. He is a sex monster and that's how you like him.

He is a big fan of pillow talk, even more so if it's to teach you things or tell you about his latest exploits. He holds you tightly against him, an arm around your shoulder or lets you rest your head on his chest keeping you warm.

Lucci didn't really bother himself with the safe word, at first he wasn't really convinced of the usefulness, but after you insisted and argued a "just in case" -you finally opted for "pigeon".

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“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.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ please, reblog, like, comment if you like my work.

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