Princess

Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”

i love one piece so much

I giggled doing this hehe

I just think they’re

✨neat✨

im desperate to find an oneshot i loved but I CNAT FIND IT OMG im going to pull all my hair to the point i become bald

CALEB FANART! <3

3 more versions below the cut! (kisses, plain, valentines ver.)

and this one just for the art contest <3

it takes two | sylus & mc

sum: “sylus likes you,” she says offhandedly, toying with the second button of your blouse. you scoff. humor her, lips pulling. “what makes you say that?” “because i like you.”

cw: non-mc reader, female reader, girls love girls, cunnilingus, p-in-v, threesome, fingering, explicit language, clit slapping, oocness, 3.2k of filth, spawned by this ask, not proofread, mdni

now playing: bolero - bathe

Emcee’s smiling, and you know this won’t end well.

It’s mischievous how she sways her hips like that, pushing through Lux’s private room like she owns it. The other dancers part for her like a school of fish as she makes her way to you, slinking away like they know something you don’t.

She plops onto your lap like you’re her throne as the swinging doors slide shut, siphoning the air from your lungs. Drapes her arms around your shoulders, gaze bleeding sin. 

Instinctively, your hands drop to her waist to brace her, and you bounce her on your lap into a more comfortable position. Sink back into the red leather cushions of the loveseat, her body sliding further up your thighs with the shift.

Her smile is infectious. Melts away your surprise, making way for a sly curve of your lips. You get a whiff of her perfume, the conditioner in her hair, as she leans close until your noses bump, hair tickling your collarbones. 

You’ve got a face full of teeth and bad intentions. Her laughter is bewitching, furling in your stomach like the smoke occupying the red-tinged atmosphere, and the other girls trickle out of the room with knowing cants to their lips over her shoulder. 

“I’ve got an idea,” she murmurs beneath the thumping music, blurring back into focus, breath fanning over your already warmed cheeks, your lips. 

You lift a brow, studying her mouth. Back to her eyes. “Really?” you reply, intrigued. Enamored.

She nods slowly, a hand slipping from your shoulder to splay against your sternum. Fingers the second button of your blouse until it slips free.

“Sylus likes you,” she says offhandedly.

You scoff, sticky, disbelieving. She must’ve been drinking, because there’s no way in hell your boss likes you like that. Not when he looks at her like she’s the center of his universe, the star he orbits in slow, methodical rotations. 

Sure, you’ve quietly pined for him for years. Followed in his shadow like an obedient mastiff, ever faithful, ever watchful. But you could never imagine him returning your affections. Not with your hands stained red and scars littering your skin.

You humor her, lips pulling. “What makes you say that?” 

Emcee laughs, throwing her head back, hair spilling off her shoulders, as if you’ve said the funniest shit. You get a look at her throat, the tendons jumping there. Your mouth waters. Thighs twitch beneath her warm weight.

You track the glide of her fingers along your cheek, the slope of your jaw, in your peripheral vision until they curl around your chin, tilting your head back, and you’re faced with irises that bubble like heated liquid. 

“Because I like you.”

You’ve barely time to process the implications on her tongue before she’s pushing it into your mouth. Soft yet insistent. Commanding in a way that leaves you fucking spinning, out of your mind, sighing all hot into her mouth, fingers tight on her hips.

She kisses like bonfires and sea sprays. Like peaches growing beneath the sun, like drive-in movies in the summer, a band-aid on nicked skin. She sucks the air from your lungs into her own body like it’s hers. You can’t get a grip on things, for she’s shifting on your lap until she’s straddling you, full thighs bracketing yours, hands cupping your cheeks to keep your face in place.

You kiss her with equal fervency. Or at least, you try to. You pull, stroke, and bunch up the back of her blouse in favor of the supple glide of her skin, lost in the wet swipe of her tongue, in the slow-weighted roll of her hips, in the husky, pleasured sounds she bleeds into your mouth.

She’s pulling at the lapels of your blazer, and you catch her cue, leaning forward to help her tear the offending garment off your shoulders. You pulse beneath her, her mouth slanting possessively over yours, fingers threading into your hair, pulse roaring, nipples unbearably tight. 

Emcee tears away from the hot suction of your mouth with a sticky click, and you catch a glimpse of her lips glossed with spit in the low light. She blisters your chin with pecks before she finds her way to your neck. Sucks and nibbles on your throat, tongue licking out to ease welting skin, before she’s at it again—a vampire trying to siphon your life force through your skin. 

You exhale, craning your neck back, eyes sliding shut. You don’t know what you’ve done to warrant such treatment. But you don’t deter it, fingers curling around her ass to encourage her to grind against you. And she’s ruthless in her assault, bearing down on your lap, pussies dragging across each other, drawing the sweetest little noise from your throat. A laugh, disbelieving, breathy.

She busies herself with pulling your blouse buttons free as her mouth seals around your pulse point, sucking, licking, wide, wet. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been at this—making out with your partner, your charge, like some hormonal teen. But your head lolls forward, the space beyond her shoulder blurring and bending until you’re able to make out discernible shapes and colors through the haze, and, oh shit— 

“Really?” rolls a voice so deep, so enthralling, it disturbs the dust particles around you. Like the crackle of a fire burning through the underbrush, and you feel it curdling in your chest. 

Shock ripples through you once you put things together. Cold mortification. You sit up, Emcee not at all perturbed by his entry, by your rigidness, her fingers crawling over your sides and down to your hips after she’s pushed your shirt open, baring your torso to the crisp air.

Your mouth spills open, a slurry of excuses on your tongue, face heated. 

Sylus watches the pair of you from the bridge of his nose, arms crossed over a broad chest, finger tapping his bicep, hip cocked out like an impatient parent. He quirks an offended brow, lips thinned with mild irritation, and he’s a dangerous, dark cutout of power amid the steady scrawl of smoke. Satan incarnate, limned by Lux’s customary red glow, the columns casting ominous shadows across his face, that right eye glowing a corrupted shade of scarlet. 

You wince when Emcee sucks on your shoulder, the wet sound of it jarring, and a pitiful noise is pinched from your throat. Before you can offer an explanation, beg for your life, Sylus sighs, dropping his hands at his sides, seemingly resigned. He crosses the room in measured strides, like a panther prowling through a jungle, not once releasing you from the intoxicating pull of his gaze.

The cushions on the loveseat dip beneath his weight when he plops beside you, draping a long arm along the backrest, still staring like he’s witnessing the ultimate betrayal. What audacity you two must have, getting along without him.

You watch with a constricted throat as he snatches up the whiskey glass, stained with condensation, you’d been nursing earlier, dumping its contents down his throat in one go.

He scowls like a child who didn’t get his way after he sets the glass down with a definitive clack. And finally, finally, with your cheeks in her hands, Emcee draws back, face smooshed up against yours, smile wicked, playful. All teeth and sin, like a youth caught doing something they were clearly warned against.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. Mouth hovers around words that never come. Sylus could kill you with a snap of his fingers for touching his girl like this. For being so brazen in his club, in his territory, getting all handsy without his permission. 

You flinch, anticipating your demise. But it doesn’t come, and you peek an eye open, surprised to see he’s redirected his ire to the little temptress in your lap.

There’s something in their staredown. A quiet exchange you’re not in on as they study each other’s faces, brows and mouths twitching as if they’re inwardly mulling over something together. A war of the minds, a muted battle, almost like telepathy, and you’re their unwilling hostage. 

You feel like prey between two predators. Carrion waiting to be picked clean, hands stiff and wide around Emcee’s waist. She giggles again, her breasts warm and doughy as they push up against yours, and you cast her a warning look. This is no time to be laughing. No time to taunt the Devil when your life's on the line.

Sylus’ gaze slides to you, and you’re stricken. Something cold spills into your belly, branching down to occupy your nether regions at the weight his eyes carry. They’re hooded. Slip into a mysterious shade of garnet as he tilts his head down to scrutinize you, lips slightly parting, brows pinched in the inner corners. 

You blink wildly when, in one fluid motion, Sylus snatches Emcee from your lap onto his. You’re remiss of the warmth of her body despite the moment, watching wide-eyed as Sylus tugs her close to nip at her throat.

She snorts, burying her fingers in his collar, clinging to him as he dips her back to bite her shoulder. 

You feel like you shouldn’t be here. Like you’re impeding on something intimate, a glacial spike of disappointment lancing through you. But those eyes slide to you again, punching the air from your lungs, petrifying you. And you can’t recall a time you’ve ever seen him so…

Ravenous? Needy? Towards you?

There is no warning. No preamble when long digits curl around the nape of your neck, when rigid features pan in. He tugs you to him, sealing his lips to yours, tongue probing the wet cavern of your mouth, swallowing up the surprised little noise you make. 

Your shoulders drop once the shock peters. And you know you’ve lost your shit because you’re kissing him back. Your boss. Your employer. The focal point of your affections, your fantasies. You’re kissing him, tangling your tongues, pushing a breath into his mouth, tearing your fingers through his silken locks.

He groans into your mouth as if he’s waited lifetimes to kiss you. To experience you like this, and Emcee’s like a little imp, snickering as she occupies her fingers with unbuttoning his shirt, with sinking her teeth into his ear, dragging them across his lobe.

Sylus pulls away, lips imparting on a journey down your neck, blazing a path opposite where Emcee branded you. He sinks his teeth into your collarbone, and you toss your head back for the second time that night, breath all shaky, mind turning to smog. 

He alternates between kissing you and Emcee, and the positions are awkward as he tries his best to hold you both in the wide span of his arms on his lap. Tries his damndest to divvy up the attention, never leaving either of you enough time to catch your breath. 

You’re on your knees now on the cushions, lips sealed around his throat once Emcee’s set his pretty, warm ivory skin free. She’s opposite you, licking up his neck, along his jaw, and you pulse when he releases a shuddering breath, voice all ragged, pretty lashes sweeping over inflamed cheeks.

He’s gripping you both. Palms full of ass as the pair of you render him speechless with the devious scrape of your teeth, hands smoothing down his sculpted chest, his stomach, to knead the thick of him pulsing in his pants.

You part every so often from the salty tang of his skin to kiss Emcee, tongues wriggling, messy, giggling. Sylus humps into your kneading palms when you get too distracted, sighing so pretty, voice so sexy, so guttural, so needy. 

He’s leaning towards you now, ingesting you with those dangerous eyes before he pushes you down. Eases you onto your back, and Emcee’s crawling off his lap so he can moor you to the loveseat with his weight.

He’s kissing you again before you can catch your breath. Like snuffed out hearth fires, like the shifting gears of a muscle car, like the welcomed burn of brandy at the back of your throat. He notches himself between your splayed open legs, rolling his hips until the thick of him throbs against your swollen labia, and you see stars.

He’s commanding in everything he does. A steady, comforting pressure, swallowing you whole with overwhelming heat and the meticulous stroke of his palms. And you feel you’re dreaming, pulling at his neck, his shoulders, your body undulating like the lazy lap of waves against him. 

You almost forget she’s in the room—the source of this debauchery. Almost, until she’s maneuvering herself behind you on the loveseat, settling your head onto her lap, petting through your hair, laughing so sweet. 

Sylus flows like smoke, perching himself on sturdy palms to kiss her over you. And where you should feel left out, jealous of their unspoken bond, you burn, watching their mouths fuse, their tongues dance, hearing the sounds of their pleasured sighs taking place overhead.

He returns his attention to you, forgoing your mouth to brand your throat with kisses, down your shoulder, towards the swell of one breast. 

You arch against his mouth when he bites down, eyes hooded, peering up at the beauty overtop you. She’s all smiles, messy hair, swollen lips, before she angles herself down to steal the taste of your lips. And she’s got your nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, twisting through the lacy drag of your bra. 

You bite your lip, so deliciously out of it. The attention’s too much, the scenery hazy, your mind slowly disconnecting itself from your body, ascending.

Sylus is on a mission, blistering kisses down the ripple of your rib cage, groaning with each press of his lips like you’re a meal worth savoring. Down, down, down he ventures, teeth scraping the meat of your belly near your navel, before he lines the stretch of skin just above the cut of your slacks with reverent kisses. 

You lift your hips to help him pull your slacks off once he’s unlatched your belt and snatched the button free. And you can’t focus with his lips so close to your cunt, with his breath so hot, kissing where labia meets thigh, groaning at the earthy scent permeating through your damp panties.

Emcee pulls your tits free from your bra, kneading them in lazy arcs, testing their weight, their fullness, pushing them together, occasionally swiping her thumbs over your puckered nips. 

Her gaze simmers like heated liquid when she wets her fingers with her tongue, doubling down on her nipple-pinching efforts. And you’re rocking your hips, one hand reaching up for purchase of her blouse. Something to cling to while Sylus swipes his tongue up the seam of your cunt. 

Before you can think, Emcee’s on her knees beside you on the floor, licking your nipple into her mouth, massaging your unattended breast with her free hand, gaze unyielding as she watches you like something to be devoured. A meal to be licked clean, not a morsel left to spare. 

Sylus has your panties off and flung somewhere on the stage in the room’s center. And he’s gazing at you with equal desire, drawing your thigh onto his brawny shoulder, nosing your pretty, sticky cunt. 

He breathes against your muff, the heat of his breath making you twitch and throb, and you wiggle your hips pathetically, not sure if you want his mouth on you or off. 

In hindsight, this still feels so very wrong. Sandwiched between your boss and your partner. The catalyst for your heartbreak and your envy. But is it really so wrong if they’re both here, ravaging you like a prime cut of meat, writing the most sinful words of all against your body with their mouths? With the reverent scrawl of their fingers?

“Relax, sweetheart,” Emcee coos, dragging her mouth to pay similar homage to your other nipple. “Let us take care of you for once,” she breathes around your teat, fingers sliding down your stomach to tap your swollen cunt.

Once, twice, and your hips surge off the couch. And Sylus is there with that hot, devastating mouth to catch you, groaning into you, palms cupping your ass to keep you sealed to him as he spreads you open with a sweltering, wide tongue.

Your fingers instinctively thread through his hair as you ruck your hips up, humping against his mouth, calves strained as you roll on the tips of your toes. 

A moan swells in your throat. Emcee swallows it, having abandoned your pretty tits to push her tongue into your mouth, to render you speechless. She disconnects to suck on your throat, your pulse point. Crawls back overtop you, her clothed pussy pushing into your face as she pitches herself forward to spread your labia apart for Sylus to draw your clit into his mouth.

Tears prick the corners of your eyes. You’re desperate, one hand curled around Emcee’s thick thigh, quietly beseeching her to put something in your mouth. You’re eager for a taste, eager to please, to reciprocate. She peers down at you with pitying eyes, lips crooked in a smirk.

She leaves you momentarily to shimmy out of her shorts, panties sticky and kicked off, before bracketing your head with either of her legs. The earthy aroma of her cunt fills your nostrils before you bury your face in her muff, sucking, licking, and nipping to mirror Sylus’s mouth on you.

You lose it when a thick finger tests the pucker of your cunt before dipping inside. He digs a little deeper with each pump of his finger until he’s knuckle-deep inside you. And you’re remiss of the hot suction of his mouth before the sticky click of mouths fusing reaches you. Instead of Sylus’ lips sealing to the seam of your cunt, a smaller mouth wraps around your clit, wrenching the sluttiest little sound from your throat.

They work in tandem to undo you. Alternate whose mouth is on you, whose fingers are in the tight clench of pussy, before both their tongues attack your clit. They feast on you, groaning like they’re appreciative of the meal. You can’t focus, releasing Emcee’s clit to bite down on her inner thigh, eyes screwed shut, fingers tight on her thighs.

You break at the seams, that sparkling feeling washing over you. Pins and needles in your extremities, vision white, voice lodged in your throat as you cum. 

By the time you return to your skin, float down, chasing the even push of your breath, Emcee’s hovering over your legs. Hands braced on either side of your hips, face screwed up in pleasure. 

She’s so gorgeous, panting like that, tits bouncing, Sylus’ fingers bruising, tight on her hips. She’s reaching for your hand as Sylus takes her from behind, and from your vantage point, you can’t tell where he ends and she begins. 

You twine your fingers with hers, still descending, and you smile. A sloppy, enamored, tired thing, holding tight as their grunts and whimpers salt the air. The clop of wet skin to skin stains the air, breathiness, pleasure,

Your gaze slides up, blurry, body boneless, and Sylus studies you, mouth hanging open with the effort of breathing. Even long after Emcee’s fallen onto her stomach, wrapping her lips around your clit for something to muffle her voice, the power of Sylus’ thrusts too much to bear, he watches you, a reverent, hungry gleam to his eyes. It borders predatory, a silent threat: you’re next. 

You throb, smile crazed, fingers filtering through Emcee’s hair to hold her in place.

You’re counting on it.

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 1: 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑

title: poker face synopsis: luckily, mr. zero didn't knew you were a mugiwara. luckily, mr. zero fell for your bluffs. unfortunately, you never imagined it would be that hard to not fall for crocodile's charm. [3.1K] cw: mugiwara!fem!reader, strip poker, strip tease, public sex, cock crush, nipple stimulation, size difference, fingering (f!receiving), riding, biting, scratching, finger sucking, p in v, creampie, possessive behavior, mob boss meets a baddie, pussy so good he wonders about marriage.

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With a thick cigar between his teeth, Crocodile forced himself to smile. “Five of a kind”, he dropped his cards on the table. “Seems like the house won. Again.”

Crocodile’s presence in Rain Dinners works to reinforce his reputation as a hero in this wretched island. Unfortunately, it also means Crocodile is tormented by the most boring clientele.

To watch someone gambling everything they own out of delusional hope and losing it all because of sheer mischance is only interesting the first few hundreds of times. Now, all Crocodile feels is disdain.

He curses those vermin that stole the joy of victory.

Murmuring complaints, two bettors left the table. The croupier stretched his arm, reaching for the cards left far away from him. As the cards were shuffled, Crocodile took in the chance to observe the tables nearby. Searching for chaos to be dealt with, such a common occurrence in a casino, an unusual sight stole his attention.

A long, thick, light pelted fur coat. Crocodile inhaled the smoke, holding it in. Admiring you with that coat over your shoulders, no one would’ve imagined this is the middle of a desert. And still, you didn’t break a sweat.

One of the bettors decided it was the right moment to thank Crocodile for his protection over Alabasta. He did his best to sound modest, heroic. To embody the last hope of this dying island. The moment a white blur entered his peripheral vision, Crocodile simply ignored the man’s existence.

With a hand over the chair’s top rail, you stared directly at the croupier. “May I?”, you asked, voice sultry as the desert.

Crocodile took the cigar out of his mouth, releasing the smoke in the direction opposite from you. “Made just in time”, he moved his hand towards the croupier ready to start. “Do you know how to play, hon’?”

You took a sip from your glass, not bothering to answer him. Placing your coat over the chair’s rail, you reached inside its pocket and took the poker chip’s box. You left it open on the table, emerald dress moving on your body as you sat down and crossed your legs.

The box was filled to the brim.

Your lack of interest on him ignited something within Crocodile. Curiosity. Something far more interesting than gambling against weak bluffs. “New to poker?”, Crocodile smiled devilish. The sort of smile that make pretty women like you forget about decency.

If only you had looked at him.

“New to this island”, you answered, sounding as bored as Crocodile was before you got there. The way you danced around his question was enough for him to know you didn’t want the others to think of you as an easy target. Usually, Crocodile would simply profit on it. This time, with you staring straight into his eyes, he couldn’t care less about this game. “Is it worth?”

“It will be.”

A promise Crocodile intended to fulfill.

Feeling his gaze burning your skull, to not smile was never so difficult. If you were weaker, you would’ve laugh until your cheeks fell apart from your face. How funny. How alluring. Ah, Luffy really told you the truth.

Your life will be funnier around me, Luffy gave you the brightest smile you ever saw. Stroking your cheek, he cleaned the trace of tears. I will never let you get bored.

A Shichibukai stands before you, unable to see you as part of the threat he is so interest in dealing with. The man that sent thousands of bounty hunters after your crew, that forced Vivi to witness as unnecessary violence tore her nation in pieces, doesn’t even know that you’re part of the group he wants to exterminate.

Good. That means the plan of distracting Crocodile has a chance of working.

Each bettor made an initial contribution for the deal to start. At every round, you raised the amount of chips. It didn’t matter if others were dropping out of the deal or if Crocodile doubled the bet with no hesitance. You simply continued to bet more.

That was alluring. It told more about you than your pretty lips could. You’re not here to make money. You’re not here to waste it. You’re here for amusement. And that Crocodile can give you any time.

“Showdown”, the croupier called. “Please, bettors, show your hands.”

The woman sitting beside you sighed, showing two pairs. Two bettors had dropped out, choosing to wait until the next deal. You placed your cards on the table. 4, 3, K, 10, 10. One pair. “Does that mean anything?”

The first man to drop out chuckled. “Only that you lost.”

Lost in the way your smile spread across your face, the croupier had to remind Crocodile it was his time to show the cards. “Three of a kind”, he murmured. This time, he put no effort into acting as if he cared that he won. Crocodile just wanted to learn more about you. “Do you know the rules?”

“Does it really matter?”, your bright smile was enough to enlighten the whole place. As the croupier changed the card sets, you gave him your solely attention. “The best liar wins at the end.”

“No surprise you haven’t won yet”, Crocodile smirked. He spread his legs, cigar between his fingers. His golden hook glistened, reminding you of the threat he represented simply by breathing. “It’s so easy to see right through you.”

But not to see how I stole all those chips from you, was what you thought. “Seems like a failure of mine”, was what you said out loud.

With a movement of his hand, a waiter approached. Crocodile whispered into his ear; eyes still fixated on you. Intoxicated on his presence, you forgot to look away. What a tempting man. From then on, your glass never remained empty.

Deal after deal, you continued to lose just as Crocodile continued to win. Deal after deal, you continued to answer just as Crocodile continued to ask.

Until there were only you two left at the casino. You let go of your glass and closed the poker chip’s box, raising from the chair. “Should have expected a pirate to be a good gambler.” You took your coat, walking away from the table. “Have a good night, Crocodile.”

“One last deal?” Crocodile was quick to offer. Desperately, you would add. “And then we call it.”

You raised the empty box. “I have nothing left to bet.”

And at that, Crocodile saw his last chance of amusing you. “Then let’s bet everything we have.”

Sat down again, chin supported by your palm, you frowned. The wine had started to affect you both. “And by that you mean…”

“Everything”, Crocodile spread his legs, resting his hook on his thick thigh. You told yourself he was begging for you to stare, but you weren’t that sure of it. “Every chip on this table. Everything on our bodies.”

As he closed his mouth, a part of Crocodile feared his proposition would offend you. It doesn’t happen often, but there is a chance he misread your signals.

“I’ve been eyeing your rings since I sat here”, you wondered out loud. “Just as you been eyeing my dress.”

But to be so straight to the point… Crocodile wasn’t quite expecting that. It was what he wanted, but to see how you two were connected made harder for him to breath.

Then you sighed.

“As tempting as it is,” and you were standing again. Crocodile hated to see that. He would hate even more to see you leaving. “It is also getting late. Like I said, I’m new to this island.”

“You have nothing to fear”, Crocodile bargained. “Not when I’m around.”

“But you won’t be around on my way back to the hotel.”

“Then stay here”, he offered. You arched an eyebrow. “I don’t intent on letting you walk away that easily. I’m a pirate. I’m used to taking what I want for myself.”

For an eternity, you both stared into each other’s eyes. A silent negotiation. His final offering, your final chance of doing the right thing and walking away from danger. You could see his very soul. How it burned just beneath the surface. Crocodile felt the same heat coming from you.

The croupier forced a cough, remind you of his presence. It took much of his strength for Crocodile to not kill him right then and there.

“Shuffle the cards and leave”, you ordered.

He obeyed. Quickly. You both took a look at your cards sets. A smile died within you. A smirk grew on Crocodile’s face. The moment the croupier closed the exit door, Crocodile showed his hand.

Crocodile looked even bigger than he already was, filled with the confidence of a winner. “Four of a kind.”

Dropping your hand on the table, you were the winner he believed to be. “Royal flush”, you smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the highest since we’re not using any wild cards.”

Shock was a good look on Crocodile. After analyzing your cards, his gaze returned to you. “You said you didn’t know how to play.”

“Oh”, you drank the last sip from your glass. “Did I?”

And at your answer, all he could do was laugh. Crocodile ran his hand through his black hair. “You hustle me”, he whispered. Crocodile wasn’t able to get rid of this genuine smile.

Your laugh was real too. It made Crocodile breath in your scent, get drunk on the sweet sound coming from you. Not a bluff, not an act. It was real, and it only made you more beautiful. “And now you have a debt to pay.”

His face darkened, reminding you of who he is. You hustled Crocodile. You hustled Crocodile. You never thought of yourself as a stupid woman, but here you are. For fucks sake. Luffy really is rubbing on you.

Crocodile bended over the table, his broad shoulders creating a shadow over you. His hand grabbed your chair’s arm, his hook moving your chin upwards. A strand of hair fell in front of his orange eyes, and looking into them you felt like a powerless prey about to be ravished.

Face lurking inches above yours, Crocodile smiled devilish. A smile that made you forget about decency, focusing only on the promise of more of him. More of the man that wants to kill you. “Enjoy the show”, Crocodile whispered.

His blue scarf was the first to be throw away, and neither of you cared about where it would land. His long fingers worked on the buttons of the rumpled black-striped vest, so slowly you almost took it off of Crocodile by yourself.

The peach shirt beneath showed a portion of his wide chest and instead of finally getting rid of it, Crocodile held the leather belt around his waist.

He had so much fun teasing you, admiring how you couldn’t look away. A man as handsome must feel entitled to the silent praise. He really thought he was the one in charge, didn’t he? And for long enough, Crocodile was.

You’re a lot of things, but you’re not patient.

Leaning against the chair, you raised your leg. The silver heel brushed against his pants, from down on his ankle until the insides of his thigh. And when your painted nails shined right in front of his crotch, you forced your feet against it.

“Stop playing around.” Cocking your head, eyes explored his still covered up body. “Don’t make me wait.”

Crocodile grabbed your ankles, calloused hand stroking softly your skin. It wasn’t a rough touch, but not less possessive because of it. You put more pressure, making him groan. “You are insane.”

“And why is that?”

“Anyone else would fear me”, Crocodile’s voice reminded you of velvet and sharp knives. It lingered on your ears. “And here you are. Demanding more.”

You sighed, fingers brushing against your lips. That voice… it was your last straw. Fighting his hold, you put your foot down on the ground. You grabbed his shirt, pushing him back until Crocodile sat down on his chair again.

He opened his mouth as you sat down on his lap, but you gave him no time to do anything. “You talk too much.”

Holding the chair’s top rail as leverage, you dive into him. Tooth biting his lower lip, tongue forcing a passage into his warm mouth. Your free hand found a spot on his large neck, bringing Crocodile closer to you. Instead of waiting, you took what you wanted for yourself.

Just like a pirate would.

She isn’t fragile, Crocodile thought. She won’t break.

Sinking into you, Crocodile forgot about self-control. He simply ravished you, just like you demanded of him. A wild animal and nothing more. Exploring your mouth as if it was his to control, hand grabbing your soft skin without a care about finesse or decorum. Crocodile pressed his hook against your chest, enjoying how it didn’t stop you from moving as you wanted to.

You got him out of that stupidly tight shirt, hands scratching his chest as your hips moved on top of his crotch. He forced you down, putting your whole weight upon himself, and ripped your emerald dress into pieces with his hook.

“You’ll pay for this one.”

It was a complain, but your fingers working to unbutton his pants made clear you couldn’t care less. His kisses travelled to your neck, tongue leaving a trail of drool on your shoulder, mouth closing against your nipples. Your fingers intertwined with his hair, encouraging Crocodile to continue.

“I will get you anything you want”, he said, voice muffled. He couldn’t get away from your body to speak. “You burn hotter than the fuckin desert.”

No shame, no hesitation. Freed from his pants, you licked your palm before grabbing his cock. You pumped him with zero delicacy, thumb pressing against the dark, sensitive head. Just like everything in Crocodile, it was big enough to make you wonder.

As if he could read you mind, Crocodile slid his hand into your panties. Long fingers explored your lips, precise with every movement. Thumb pressing against your clit, two fingers against your wet slit. His hook brushed against your thigh, arm locking around you to press you down on his fingers.

Your loud moan embarrassed your very soul, but all Crocodile did was laugh. His teeth closed around your neck, biting hard enough to make you whimper. That’ll mark you for sure. “Ride me, hon’.”

With your nails deep into his back, you stretched yourself on Crocodile’s fingers. You bit his earlobe, brushing your face against his as you speed up your movements. In your hand, his cock throbbed. Crocodile was leaking, burning in the same way you do.

“Take what you want”, you whispered against his ear. “Fuck me already.”

It happened so quickly, you barely understood how he moved. A second before you were on his lap, two fingers deep into your hungry cunt, lips around his ear. Then you were sat on the table, poker chips falling on the floor, Crocodile standing between your legs.

A fucking monster.

Crocodile took his drenched fingers from you, and wasted no time before sucking them clean. He grabbed your thighs, exposing yourself from him. “She’s delicious”, Crocodile stared at your pussy. His fingers pulled your lips apart. “Will get me addicted to her.”

Using your legs, you got him even closer to you. Crocodile grabbed your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss. Fighting against your tongue, he fit the head of his cock into you. You moaned into his mouth.

Moving your heels against his thighs, you forced him inside of you. A stupid decision. Your head collapsed against his shoulder, the entirety of his length touching all the right places. So good, so right, so… much.

Crocodile wasn’t in that much of a better situation. Eyes closes tightly, lips hanging open as a deep cry escaped. So wet, so warm. Moving slowly, Crocodile chortled. He had no control over his mind anymore.

“Don’t you dare stopping”, you manage to say. “Just… fu-fuck, just like that.”

Deep thrusts as his fingers worked on your clit: Crocodile wouldn’t dream of doing anything other than you wanted. He could feel your drool gathering on his shoulder. How your fingers were deep into his forearms, or how the hold of your legs around his waist weakened.

All Crocodile wanted was to make you as addicted to him as he already was to you. To get you to scream his name, begging for more and more. He wanted you to take from him. To get what you wanted. And Crocodile wanted everything you could give him.

Feeling waves of pleasure washing over you, mind empty as a white canvas, you tilted your head back. Eyes half-open, you admired him. His raw lips, face covered in sweat. Marks of lipstick all over his chest, just as deep nail marks and surface scratched. You looked down, watching as he entered you.

“You are worth way more than eighty million.”

Crocodiled bended, tongue playing with your aching nipple. “After my head, hon’?”, he sucked on them. You stroked his hair, enjoying how primal Crocodile looked.

“Do I look insane?”, you moaned.

Crocodile looked into your eyes, face near yours. You placed your arms around his shoulders, but he held you in place. Crocodile simply looked at you. As if there was something new, something he never saw before.

“You do”, Crocodile whispered. It felt so intimate. For a moment, you weren’t being fucked in an empty casino. For a moment, you two were sharing a secret. “You’re perfect.”

You melted against him. Lost on your orgasm, you unlearned how to breath. The fact you couldn’t think didn’t stop Crocodile from kissing you. As you closed around him, Crocodile reached his limit. Tooth deep into your throat, he marked you again.

Tears formed behind your eyes, throat aching as you finally breathed again. You laid your head on his chest, feeling it rising with his unregulated breathes. A firm hand held your waist, his nose stopped in the union of your shoulder and neck. His biting hurt so good, just like your scratches on his skin.

When Crocodile opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his hand holding onto the table. He looked at the fours rings you said caught your attention. And he saw how there was only one finger lacking a ring.

Insane, Crocodile thought. She’s making me insane.

As his hips moved away, a cry left your throat as he emptied your pussy, your legs finally stopped working. Crocodile took his cigar from the ashtray, smoking it for a few seconds. When he released the smoke, you grabbed his chin and made him face you. Inhaling it, you closed your eyes.

Not a second after you let it go, his hand and hook slid beneath your thighs. Effortlessly, Crocodile took you from the table. Your shaken legs closed around his waist as he carried you. “What you doing?”

Crocodile finally looked into your eyes again. He smiled, and it was genuinely. “Taking what I want for myself.”

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