G-A-N-G BABY, LET ME B-A-N-G, BABY
✩ wriothesley + neuvillette x fem!reader
↳ ft. zero plot, 3some, oral (m+f receiving), multiple creampie, semi-dragon neuvi (just his tongue), voyeurism, pet names, wrio is a little mean, vague cucking themes but it's a threeway so who really cares, breeding, bttm reader.
"mmh... that's a good girl," wriothesley groans, head tilted back as he pulls one of your arms behind you, arching your back further. you adjust your lips on neuvillette's length, sucking diligently on his tip, after all, you couldn't fit much more of his obscene size in your pretty mouth.
they moan in chorus, both at your slickness and warmth. wriothesley slams his hips against yours, heavy balls slapping lewdly against your ass as he batters your pussy. he's big, and on particularly violent slams, his tip hits right up against your cervix, earning muffled whines from around the iudex's cock.
"..aah, darling, just like that... more," neuvillette sighs, as if you were personally sucking his refined personality out of him.
with every time wriothesley makes you moan, it sends sweet pulses up neuvillette's length from where he's nestled in your throat. it doesn't take much to send the iudex over the edge, the warm spasms of your mouth pleasing him unimaginably.
neuvillette becomes more vocal as you take as much of his dick as you can down your throat, trying to meet you halfway when he sees you struggle.
"mmh, darling, may i?" he tilts his head back, holding a fistful of your hair, moaning out loud when you look up at him with glassy eyes and nod, his tip still settled in your mouth. that's all he needed, hot ropes of white instantly glazing your mouth. he swipes droplets of his cum from your face and pushes his fingers past your eager, swollen lips. wriothesley huffs at the sight of neuvillette playing with your spent mouth, slamming his hips against you harder.
this may have been the lewdest thing neuvillette has ever experienced, cumming all over your face, making you taste him, all while another man inside you gets off to the sight of it. he pulls your face back onto his cock, and you press kisses to his tip without being asked to. it's adorable, it helps neuvillette ride out his high.
"fuck... my pretty girl, g'na make me cum too, you want that? want my cum inside you?" wriothesley's out of breath, gasping for air as he slams his cock into your pussy.
neuvillette cups your face with a lithe hand, pulling your mouth off his tip for just a moment to let wriothesley fully hear you. he's fucking you with all his strength, hips flexing with every thrust.
"want it, i wan' it all... f-fuck, wrio!"
you bury your burning face in neuvillette's lap as wriothesley hits his climax, grabbing your hips and raising them higher before he stuffs your pussy to the brim with his hot, creamy cum.
"take it all, chérie." neuvillette runs a hand through your hair as you mumble nonsense into the pale skin of his thighs, as the duke pushes his cum further inside you with a string of sloppy, deep thrusts.
"mmh... s'full, wrio... feels so good," you mumble, fucked-out and spent.
wriothesley pulls out of you with a slick pop, prodding at the mess he's made of your pussy. you're leaking with his seed, milky droplets spilling down your trembling thighs.
"oh, fuck. come have a look, monsieur," the duke teases. he spreads your pussy open, baring your stretched hole, still clenching onto the girth that it got so addicted to.
you turn onto your back, with your lovers switching places. you're now in wriothesley's strong grasp, with neuvillette's gentle caresses working at your core. wriothesley holds your thighs apart for neuvillette, squeezing the plush skin of your ass.
neuvillette's long, serpentine tongue slips between your folds, reaching impossibly deep inside you. he's getting lost in you, tasting a different, foreign universe within your insides. your hands find themselves in his silky white hair, tugging when he digs the forked tip of his tongue against your throbbing, puffy clit.
"neuvi, please... mmh! right there..."
he hums at the taste of your pussy, lapping up wriothesley's cum that still periodically oozes out of you. his tongue slips its way against your walls, making you twist against the duke's grip. neuvillette is earnestly perched between your wide-spread thighs, putting your legs on his shoulders.
wriothesley reaches around your body to massage your tits, getting a lovely view of your legs in the air with the iudex between them.
despite being slick with the duke's seed and stretched to accommodate wriothesley's girth, neuvillette's cock still strains to fit inside you. he eases his aching tip inside your entrance, pulling your pussy apart, stretching you deliciously all over again, even further than before. it's painful, every bluish vein on his cock pulsing and throbbing against the soft walls of your cunt.
"it's alright, i've got you," he coos, holding you tenderly by the waist to steady himself while he continues to push himself further inside you.
he's almost unbelievably big; even in comparison to wriothesley. but in contrast, neuvillette tries to remain as gentle as possible with your body.
"looks like i didn't stretch you out enough, doll," wriothesley smirks, absently playing with your erect nipples as neuvillette struggles to bottom out inside you. he's hard again, the sight of the iudex ravaging your body proving to get him off.
neuvillette's silvery hair cascades over his shoulder and surrounds your body like a veil, obscuring the duke's view of you. he reaches from behind you, tucking neuvillette's hair back.
"mhmm, fuck, take him, pretty girl," wriothesley groans, stroking his cock to the sweet noises that neuvillette pulls from your lips.
"beautiful girl," neuvillette sighs in agreement as he watches your face contort with pleasure, eyes fluttering to the back of your head as he juts his hips back and forth slowly. the stretch is almost too much, his laboured breathing key evidence of your tightness around him.
wriothesley shamelessly masturbates right next to your face, holding you in his lap with a strong arm around your waist. neuvillette's pale face burns crimson, practically fucking your cervix, he's so fucking deep. each thrust of neuvillette's hips sends your whole body quaking, tits bouncing against the duke's grasp.
"i'm... i'm close, could i-agh- could i finish inside you, chérie?" neuvillette holds you tighter, arching himself closer to you. he speaks gently, right into your face, kissing the side of your neck while rocking his cock into you.
he's sensitive, especially after already cumming once from your mouth. although it didn't take him long at all to reach his high a second time, the stretch, the way he pounds at your aching cunt like his life depends on it, makes it feel like hours.
"he asked you a question, doll," wriothesley hisses at the feeling of his cock in his own fist. you squirm against the duke's chest, neuvillette's pace not letting up as he obediently waits for you to tell him to cum inside you.
"mhmm, fuck, n-neuvi, cum in me, cum in me!" you babble out incoherent nonsense to neuvillette, who happily obliges in stuffing your eager pussy. you're filled to the brim with both of them, with wriothesley even reaching his own second high, spurting a weak stream of cum down his hand, some spilling onto your skin.
neuvillette is quick to pull out of you and kiss your spent body, his shaky hands tracing every curve that he simply loves so much. wriothesley cards his clean hand through your hair, staining your tits and chest with his other. the duke kisses the side of your face, pulling you down with him as he lies down. the iudex joins you on your other side, putting his hair over one shoulder and propping his head up with a hand.
despite how roughly they fuck you, neither of them ever fails to make you feel absolutely adored. but when wriothesley's keen eye catches on the drops of cum that spill out of your pussy, he chuckles softly.
"which one of us is gonna knock her up first, monsieur?"
note: there is a surprisingly small amount of explicit qifrey headcanons out there and i’m determined to fix that — apologies in advance if anything i’ve listed is contradictory or doesn’t line up with the story, i’m only a little bit into the manga as of writing this
18+ mdni !!
- - - - - - - - - - -
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
he does NOT play about aftercare, he's pretty regimented and thoughtful so the aftercare would be planned well before foreplay even begins — soap and towel on the bathroom counter ready for a bubble bath, favorite food/snacks/drinks prepped and on standby, clean blankets to replace the ones he’s sure to ruin
he secretly likes to be pampered every now and then too but doesn’t expect it, although whoever he loves enough to take to bed would likely pick up on that and make sure he is treated to it
with no exception, his partner will be sleeping in his arms or vice versa the rest of the night
B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)
eyes (in a perverted way) and mouth/neck (less perverted way)
VERY into eye contact (ironic, i know) likes seeing that twinkle in his partner’s eye when he first sinks into them or they sink into him, likes watching them get teary-eyed from the pleasure, and likes watching their eyes roll back when they are close
does like to stick his fingers in his partner’s mouth now and again ngl, but mainly loves the mouth and neck for kissing; delicate, rough, needy, teasing — the options are endless and they all produce different results, he loves to experiment to see what gets under their skin, what makes them tick
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
has a fascination with it tbh, he views it as soul binding in a way, so if he trusts someone enough to fuck them, he's coming inside (with permission of course) or vice versa as a way to seal the connection — definitely some possessive undertones there that he would never admit to
he especially loves just watching his partner come, its raw and visceral in a way he doesn’t typically allow himself to indulge
prefers not to come on his partner’s face unless requested but does enjoy when his partner comes on his LOL idk when he does it to his partner it feels blasphemous but when they do it to him its just hot
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
has thought about the potential use of forbidden magic in the bedroom for pleasure — purely theoretical, never put into practice
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
has had very few partners, but there was plenty of intimacy with each that has brought him a decent amount of experience, but admittedly not as much as most people
he is observant and patient though, so give him a little time and he will figure anything out
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
lotus or spooning
also appreciates missionary, can’t go wrong with the classics
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
his lighthearted demeanor is still there but his focus can make him come off more intense, he appreciates the human nature of sex and doesn't let his partner get embarrassed when things dont exactly go according to plan
he’d smooth over mishaps with kisses, like if his partner slipped or knocked their ankle on the bedside table he’d press a kiss to it as he continues, very sweet and attentive
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
well groomed but not hairless unless preferred by his partner
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
perfect mix of psychological and physical, he knows that appealing to someone’s fantasies is the quickest way to succeed in the bedroom
romantic in the way that he is a very devoted and sincere lover, filthy in the way that he gets completely overtaken during sex, his usual composure becomes something still controlled but more depraved and daring
also big on holding hands during sex, he doesn’t care how cliché it is
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
does not have time to do it as much as he should, ends up pent up more often than not
if he has a keepsake from his partner, he will sometimes jack off while holding it in his other hand, ex. a pendant, a cap ornament, a piece of clothing (bonus points if it smells like them)
and he will feel guilty about it every time
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
already kind of dropped a few but here’s some more: bondage, kneeling, begging, praise, worship, aphrodisiacs, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, temperature play/wax play, sub/dom dynamic
he’s definitely a switch but prefers being dominant because its an easier headspace for him to be in — specifically soft dom/pleasure dom or a mix of both depending on the day
every now and then can enjoy some mild verbal degradation but only at his expense, never his partner’s
heavily into foreplay, wants to make sure he’s fully there with his partner in mind, body, and soul, nothing less
also has some very mild sadistic/masochistic tendencies that he refuses to examine too closely
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
prefers doing it at home using a soundproofing spell, other than that as long as its somewhere private that provides him the space and time he needs to get him and his partner off he’s open to it
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
when his partner moans his name, having his hair pulled/tugged on, love bites, starting foreplay over clothes, undressing each other
really enjoys teasing, it makes the inevitable that much more rewarding
a nice perfume/cologne can also get his blood pumping
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
anything dangerous or too irresponsible is probably a no-go
very much needs explicit consent, anything less is a no to him
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
likes giving oral more than receiving but is not opposed
very good but agonizingly slow, he draws it out on purpose just to see his partner squirm and beg
occasionally likes to make them come from his mouth alone first, likes to get them all worked up again for a second or sometimes third orgasm before he’s even had his first, his patience knows no bounds
although he’s skilled with his mouth, he’s even better with his hands — long, dexterous fingers in tandem with his sharp observation and adaptability make him an expert at building his partner up and breaking them apart
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
kind of toxic of him but depends on his stress/mood
the more stressed he is the rougher he gets (with consent ofc), rough pounding and harsh grip but usually paired with lots of kisses and sweet nothings/praise, ex. “you are doing so well/you take me so well” and “you are so beautiful” or just “i love you”
when’s he’s less stressed, he’s more composed and measured, taking his time, sensual and loving but pacing himself until him and his partner are on the verge of insanity, when like this his words can be more teasing/toying, playfully frustrating, lots of “what was that? i couldn’t quite make that out?” and “you must ask politely” or “beg for me”
he’s funny like that
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
not opposed, but he usually finds that its more difficult to be spontaneous than it is to simply plan in advance
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
risk in the sense of experimentation — absolutely
risk in the sense of actual danger to ones health or livelihood/something irreversible — probably not
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
high physical stamina and even higher mental stamina
confirmed sleeper build so he can go multiple rounds no sweat if him and his partner so desire and has a mental fortitude that is nearly unbreakable unless he wants it to be
despite that, he can sometimes come quicker than expected if he hasn’t seen his partner in a while — but that does not slow him down, if anything it spurs him on further
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves)
oh yeah, it practically comes with the territory of being a witch considering all the useful gadgets and tools they create
assuming magic sex toys aren’t forbidden, he might even have a small journal dedicated to the spells used on different toys he comes up with and what type of stimulation they produce, notes which ones his partner seems to enjoy, etc.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
LOVES to tease his partner, almost unfairly so
he knows exactly what words to say to get his partner hot and bothered, how to say them, and what small touch to accompany it for maximum effect
he likes being teased too but he’s not very easy to crack (and is secretly prideful of that fact)
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
oh he wants to hear every single sound his partner makes, will sometimes stop mid fucking to explicitly say so if he senses them holding back
he also will be vocal but more through words (ex. talking you through it) and low moans, maybe the occasional whimper if he’s really letting himself relax
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
despite his need for privacy, he once had a wet dream in which him and his partner were strolling about the great hall and his partner decided to hide under his robe to pleasure him, when he woke up, he had never been so hard in his life — he sometimes revisits the fantasy when masturbating
on a related note, he really enjoys lazy wake-up sex
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
slightly longer than average, pretty pink tip, i’ll let you imagine the rest
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
higher than one might expect, but definitely a quality over quantity type of person in the bedroom
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
an avid enjoyer of pillow talk but once the conversation settles he tends to get wrapped up in his thoughts, not always in a negative way, he’s just a naturally contemplative person
usually likes to watch his partner fall asleep first, it brings him a sense of peace that makes it easier to drift off himself
izuku letting katsuki fuck his girlfriend ⭑.ᐟ mdni ᭝ threesome, unprotected p in v, creampie, brief cum play, lots of praise from izuku in the cuck chair
your cheek's pressed into the sheets, hands fisting in the fabric as katsuki fucks into you from behind. low grunts under his breath, jaw tight, pace relentless. his hands are rough on your hips, dragging you back into each thrust, hard enough so you feel every inch, every grind, every low, deep press of his cock as he fucks into that same aching spot over and over again.
izuku's curled close, lying on his side just... watching. one hand resting light on your thigh, the other tucked under his head, soft eyes flicking between your face and down to where katsuki's cock keeps disappearing into you.
"you're taking him so well," he murmurs, thumb brushing a little higher, just grazing the edge of your ass, the curve of your hip. his voice is soft, too soft for how filthy it makes you feel. "look at you, angel... you're so full, he's stretching you out so pretty."
you nod meekly, eyes glinting as a sharp gasp slips past your lips when katsuki fucks into you harder, as if he's punishing you for forgetting who's inside you.
izuku hums, dark eyes flicking to katsuki's before returning to yours, smiling. "i know, sweetheart... it's too much, huh?"
katsuki growls low behind you. a quiet, "shut the fuck up," as he slides a hand up to the back of your neck, palm warm against your skin as he presses in so deep you let out a choked, ah— katsuki
"that's it," izuku coos, completely unfazed. "just breathe through it. you're doing so good."
his hand smooths up your back, soothing and warm like he's trying to calm you down while he let's katsuki fuck you stupid right in front of him. like he's not hard under his sweats, cock pressed tight, precum spotting the fabric as he bites the inside of his cheek every time you moan.
"he's so mean, isn't he?" izuku murmurs, low near your ear. "but he always gives you exactly what you need. you should say thank you, baby," he encourages, lips pressing to the side of your neck. "go on, tell kacchan how thankful you are."
katsuki's cock twitches inside you with every word as you stutter out a quiet "t-thank you."
he lets out a curse under his breath as he drags his cock out, eyes focused on your slick coating him before he slams back in—hips flush to yours.
"you're gonna make him cum," izuku says sweetly, sliding one hand down between your thighs, fingers gentle and warm as they dip past where katsuki's cock is still fucking into you, slow just for a moment so neither of them miss the way you jerk when izuku touches you there—firm pressure pressing into you, brushing past katsuki's cock where it's stretching you out, slick and messy and so tender it makes you cry out.
"that's it," izuku murmurs, thumb catching right over your clit, a teasing flick, "there you go. we've got you."
katsuki groans as he lifts your hips a little more to angle deeper. "shit—" he bites out, "she's squeezin' me so tight."
you sob into the sheets. izuku's hand doesn't let up, while katsuki's pace stutters hard, hips snapping into you.
"keep talkin' to her like that, she's gonna cum. can feel it... keeps clenching every time you talk." katsuki mutters, eyes fixated on his cock glistening every time he pulls back just to hear you beg for more.
izuku just hums, "she wants to," he says, his own fingers coated in your slick as they keep moving slow against your clit now. "she's being so good for you kacchan. letting you fuck her that deep, letting me touch— being so brave, don't you think?"
katsuki drags you back onto him, hard, and it knocks a broken little sob out of your chest. "you hear that, baby?" katsuki grits, leaning in, mouth hot against your spine. "you're our good fuckin' girl, yeah?"
"y-yeah," you gasp, voice trembling as izuku presses a little firmer against your clit. "wanna be good for you both..."
"we know, sweetheart," izuku coos, soft and breathless, curling a little closer to you, nose bumping into your cheek as he presses soft kisses there. "you're doing so good. we know it's a lot."
"is it too much for you?" katsuki mumbles, pressing his own lips against your skin, "or you just like whinin' for us?"
you shake your head fast, fingers fisting tighter into the sheets, "no! don't stop, please... i-i'm gonna—"
"yeah?" he growls, fucking you through it harder. "you gonna cum all over my cock, baby? gonna let me feel it?"
"she's right there," izuku whispers beside you. "let it happen. we've got you."
it hits hard—blinding heat sparking deep and low as your body goes rigid, pussy clenching around katsuki so hard he swears, stutters, and slams in once, choking on a groan as he cums with you.
"fuck— i'm cummin'—" katsuki gasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his hips twitch, cock pressing deep and grinding through it as he spills into you in warm thick pulses.
izuku hums beside you, his fingers wet with your release coming up to stroke your thigh, before pressing a kiss to your temple and muttering, "that's it... that's our girl."
katsuki's grip trembles against your hips when he exhales against your skin. chest rising and falling against your back, hands smoothing up and down your sides before he pulls out.
still braced as he drags his cock free—covered in your release, flushed, and still twitching a little. he watches the way your pussy flutters from the loss. watches how wet and ruined you are. how his cum spills out of you, dripping past your thighs and pooling where your legs are still spread.
"fuckin' hell..." katsuki mutters, fingers reaching down to drag through the mess, smiling when your body twitches from the sensitivity.
izuku's fingers are still brushing lightly over your skin. "she looks pretty, huh?"
you try to hide your face in the sheets, body still too shaky to move, still panting—and izuku leans in to press another gentle kiss to your cheek, "did so good for us," he whispers.
"too good," katsuki mutters, rubbing a hand over your ass and squeezing gently, watching another thick drip slide down and groaning under his breath. "fuck, look at this mess..."
your body twitches again at the roughness in his voice, involuntarily, over-sensitive, and izuku just watches it happen—eyes dragging slow between your thighs where katsuki's cum still glistens across your pussy and drips out of you in lazy trails.
he hums, thoughtfully. before shifting closer. lowering himself a little. hands gentle as they slide over your thighs to ease them apart again, despite the way they tremble in protest. despite the soft noise you make when the cool air hits.
katsuki catches the movement from the corner of his eyes and snorts, still breathless, "you're such a fuckin' perv."
izuku just smiles, pretty and flushed and way too focused on the mess. "mhmm," he hums, breath ghosting low, just before he leans in, "i'm just cleaning it up."
you barely have time to register the first warm press of his tongue—slow and gentle, licking a stripe through the slick mess between your thighs of both yours and his best friends' release, the tip of his tongue brushing your clit—before he hums low in his throat, hands tightening around your hips like he's settling in, like he's not stopping until there's nothing left.
a/n a repost from my old & inactive blog eikyuunimain (mariinktg) so if it looks familiar, that's why! likes and reblogs are much appreciated! | mha masterlist
18+ MDNI, established relationship, fem reader, somnophilia, softdom!gojo, shy!reader, pre-established consent, kissing, mentally drained gojo, i love yous, biting?, sleep deprived gojo, sleepy reader, gojo being a lil animalistic, pussy pronouns, raw sex, multiple orgasms, creampie.ᐟ
The cursed energy hits you like a freight train, face frozen, a sharp gasp catching in your heavy chest all between the safety of your fluffy pillowcase. The strange disturbance behind you immediately fires your senses up, body buzzing with thick electricity that abruptly awakes you from your deep sleep, tired eyes fluttering open.
Gojo must be home, you sighed. The metal alarm clock neatly nestled on top the mahogany grain dresser reading far too deep in the night for it to be anyone else besides him or a burglar, maybe—yet a sudden wave of relief washes over you.
“Toru? ‘s that you?” Questioning the movement behind you is when it finally hits you; your numb limbs tingling sharply with a recognizable heat pooling at your cunt. Stealthily, a knowing bright pink mushroom tip creeping its way through your tight entrance.
Pussy stuffed full to the brim of pale throbbing inches, pumping veins swirling and prodding around every tight crevice of your clenched walls. He sneakily sheathes himself in your unprepared body fully; raw, weeping-cockhead stretching your once snug insides conveniently wide open for him, thighs burning from the pressure.
“W-What are you doing?” You ask the man, his breathing uneven behind you, large hands spayed over your thighs in an attempt to keep you pried wideee open.
It’s difficult to crane your head to see him, his heavy body completely flat on your back. If you couldn’t feel the carved out muscles of his sculpted chest—couldn’t smell the sweet pheromones of dried up sweat in which clings to his skin; then you wouldn’t realize it was even Satoru, his cock so hard, pace so soft—your brain could barely recognize him.
“We talked about this baby, remember? You’re already sooo sleepy. How about you just get some rest, alright?” He whispers, tone sickeningly sweet like always, a slight edge to his words.
The sinful vibrations send ghost-like shivers down your spine, body shaking beneath him like a leaf.
‘We talked about this.’
The words echo in your delirious state of mind, thinking back to the short conversation between the two of you months ago, speculating out loud about Gojo’s busy training programs, and his terrible sleeping schedule.
It was an honor to take in and train multiple gifted students at once, yet the grueling almost never ending schedule kept Gojo constantly busy and on edge which then of course, left you reeling in his absence. The responsibilities meant he’d often leave you alone at home just like this—body clad in his t-shirt, arms tightly hugging his pillow and mind drifting off to sleep, wondering when he’d finally be home.
It was a casual moment, quiet whispers beneath the sheets, mindlessly speaking about how much you’ve grown to miss tender nights like these, and how you wouldn’t mind if Gojo just started to take whatever he wanted from you.
Whenever he wanted it.
“You can use me y’know?” You mumble, voice hoarse and body aching. “Sex is often a good use for sleep management.”
The soft patterns Satoru’s fingertips rubbed into the fat of your thigh suddenly stopped, his breathing becoming uneven. “Whenever I wanted? Like that free use shit? I mean…I feel like I already do that.”
Shrugging, you loop a strand of his powdery locs through your hand, looking up to the ceiling. “Yeah you do,” you giggle, heart fluttering. “Just think it would be exciting.”
Use you? His shy girlfriend?
The waistband of Gojo’s sweatpants tightened at that, stomach swirling and blood pooling to his pink ears, imagining what exactly it would look like to take you sleeping, mind and body completely unaware of what’s to happen if—or when he does.
Gulping, he attempts to hide the feeling deep inside of him brewing, his cerulean irises finding yours. “Even when it’s late like this? Or what about when you’re busy and—well… what about when you’re asleep?
You simply hum, looking down at him laying on your chest. “It's a nice thing to wake up to, isn't it?”
“Was tryin’ to be quiet and not wake you up but…” Gojo’s heavy body slightly shuffles again, the front of his toned chest sitting itself between your shoulder blades, dipping you further into the mattress. “…But I was dreaming about this pussy allll day long, and I know you were too.” He smiles, hot breath tracing the slope of your ear. “No panties? ‘s like you knew I was coming straight home to fuck my girl.”
You didn’t believe he’d take your words to heart that night yet Gojo always seems to remember everything, down to how to accurately hit your g-spot with ease, his thick tip kissing the gummy spot effortlessly. “Mm-Toru—” You keen, hands tangling themselves inside of the soft pillow case, gripping it closer to your face in a tangled knot.
“—Hey, don’t worry about me. Lay here justtt like thisss for me.”
Gojo doesn’t have to ask you twice, angling your hips up into a makeshift position, bare cunt allowing his heavy balls to slap your clit, sticky plaps! velcroing the skin onto your buzzing bundle of nerves, your mouth unable to hide the mewls pouring from your throat.
“I ever tell you how pretty you look sleepin’? Think I should tell you more often.” Gojo wonders, nuzzling his sloped nose beside your ear, teeth grazing that soft spot behind your ear just righttt.
“Y-You call m-me pretty all the time—ahh!” Long slender fingertips quickly graze upwards inside the loose t-shirt that hangs over your sleepy body, the pads of his fingers cold to the touch as they hit the warm flesh, your nipples hardening in anticipation. You arch your back, allowing his fingers even more access to you, pointer and middle digits finding your nipple, pinching the bud tightly. “Ohhh.”
“Mhm,” he agrees, pressing his lips to your flushed cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his lips. “Always so good for me y’know? Giving me exactly what I needed.”
Gojo greedily twists you so hard it hurts, free hand pressing your lips to his in a makeshift kiss. His lips are dry as they brush up to yours, probably from the hours outside working and not rehydrating his heat stroked body, you can’t help but squeal—rapidly folding your tongue over his to keep up with the deprived man.
He’s quick, sucking hard on your tongue, feeling around the ridges and squishy spots of your toothpaste stained cheeks, the faint taste of strawberry candy filling your opened mouth, the taffy flavoring you’ve grown to love so much making your toes curl.
But he’s also so damn messy, the usual soft and gentle kisses he gives you are replaced with the furious velocity of his tongue, his boundless energy shifting throughout you, a jittery feeling taking over your nervous system. “Toruuu.”
His tongue darts over your teeth, plunging deep between your soft mouth. “Hmph,” he groans, tongue swirling over the soft bumps on your relaxed tastebuds. Gojo practically licks you clean, the slick noises of his tongue rivaling with the riveting noises of your squelching cunt. “I missed you both.” He pulls away, a clear string of slippery spit connecting you to his bottom lip.
Puzzled, you begin to wonder what he means by that, when suddenly his heavy dick slaps into you hard, carved hip bones grinding heavily against your own. Your cunt responds before your swollen tongue can, walls squelching and weeping around him, the noise echoing on the shoji walls.
“So pretty—so wet. This is all for me, isn’t it baby?” He coos, voice so sweet yet cockhead so mean, throbbing shaft all but ripping you apart. “Can’t believe you got her all naked ‘n ready for me, was waiting up for me to fuck this sweet pussy.” He repeats. Again. Like your naked cunt had a wild effect on him.
He’s been waiting on this moment to finally happen, your unconscious bare body finally his for the taking.
“Tried stayin’ u-up Toru, but-but I fell asleep.” You yawn, open mouth easily sneaking out little ‘pips’ from your tired throat, eyes fluttering in and out of sleep. “Still so tired—”
“—Shh,” he coos, nudging his head between the soft slope of your neck and shoulder, strongly inhaling your scent of sandalwood and musk; his bodywash. “Just go back to sleep, and let me take care of my pretty girl.”
His words have a much stronger hold on your subconscious than you realize. Your cunt trembles, walls convulsing around his vigorous cock as Gojo quite literally rocks you back to sleep, body limp and relaxed.
Laying there, you take it; g-spot buzzing ‘n buzzing each time his cock slithers beside it, pumping tip painting and etching your walls with such skill it’s like you're made for him, velvet converting to his girth forever.
Your mouth is quiet, yet your sweet lil’ pussy can’t help but scream, silky sap oozing down his shaft with every feverish snap of his hips, the slit of his yummy pink tip can’t help but mix its juices with your slick, your rubberband cervix swallowing every single drip of pre he gives it.
“Please Satoru. Please make me feel good.” You murmur, hips wigglin’ beneath the blankets, attempting to catch your clit on his balls, or the folded edge of the luxuriously high thread count sheets—you need anything he can give you, body shaking like it’s about to sneeze.
“Ha—of course. ‘s why I’m here.” Gojo groans, the same long fingers toying with your nipples traveling down past your navel, prodding at the sticky mound between your thighs, quickly finding your heated bud.
“Here! Please!” you writhe, your much smaller hand wrapping around his muscular forearm, sleepy strength pressing his fingers down on your clit. His pace behind you only further hurries his hand down on your front, keeping your lazy body snug in his greedy hold.
“Hereeee,” he parrots, voice growling; words slurring. It’s been so long since he’d felt you this wet, this pliable, your geysering cunt drooling all the way up! to his white happy trail, thin hairs glued down in delectable honey slick. “Nah, she told me she wants it right hereee instead.” Gojo chirps, suddenly pressing down onto the taught bundle of nerves practically begging for his attention. “A-Always will be here for ya baby, keep this pussy wellll taken care of.”
“Satoru, please!” You grumble, a bubble of spit popping with a loud smack of your lips, yet you’re unsure if Gojo even heard it between the symphonies of squelches and his moans battling for dominance in the awfully quiet bedroom. “‘m so close.”
“Yeah? Can tell you are.” He coos, the pads of his fingers not slowing their movements. The way he moves sends zaps of accelerated energy throughout your feeble insides, g-spot and clit working together so fluid to make your eyes roll back buried treacherously deep into your woozy skull. “Look at me baby—wanna see that look on your face when you cum on my cock.
Cumming, you feel the wild swish between your legs, your moans wildly soaring through your chest, noises muffled by the plush mattress.
It’s like he has total control over your body, his intrusive words only pushing you closer and closer to the edge as if your body lazily hangs off a cliff—he would catch you of course, even when you're like this; flailing and excessive creaming slippery juices all over his pale cock.
He missed this, missed the feverish noises he so effortlessly pulled from your aching throat, the feeling of your soft globular g-spot gushing and raining fat droplets of your release down his shaft, honey-like sap leaking down your thighs like a delicious heady dinner boiling over the stovetop.
“Yeah jus’ like that baby.” He coos, softly leaning down to kisses to your covered shoulder. Adjusting his lanky body behind you, he bends his knee taught beside your ass cheek, his hot breath once so close to your cheek, now so far away.
Gojo quickly makes up for it, the new angle riding out your orgasm with ease, each thrust hitting that wobbily sensitive spot over and over again, legs a sugary smooth jelly-like substance underneath him, thighs wiggling around his own trunks of muscle.
“So pretty.” His slender fingertips graze up your spine, lazily bundling the fabric off of your back, Gojo practically dying to see more of you. And when he sees it— his prodding cock shoveled so deep into your cavern, he quickly loses the last of his resolve, sharp sixth senses zoning into the sharp energy deep inside of you. “Can see it, c-can see my…” He suddenly stutters, lapis lazuli eyes locked in on his fleshy target.
It’s so damn sloppy. If he wasn’t so fucked out and delirious he could maybe speak straight, yet the view of his sloshing tip only makes him stutter. “‘m stuffed righttt hereee.” Although you can’t see it, he points—shaky finger etching centimeters above your hip bones, throbbing inches and inches of his pale cock nuzzled so deep inside of your walls that if you swallowed you’re sure you could taste the salty beads of delectable pre meting on your tongue.
“All mine, you hear me?” He asks, but it’s a veiled threat, his animalistic claim over you digging deep through his bones and up through his spongey shaft, each snap of his hips proving it. “L-Love you forever.”
Gojo’s gifted, effortlessly succeeding in every. single. thing. he puts his cocky mind to; including drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your strained cunt. His fingers swirl around your bloated clit, meticulously swiping over the hood just right, calculating the perfect pressure on your fleshy sweet spot, rapidly circling the divots and edges.
“T-Toru! Don’t move!” You mewl, the all too familiar bubbling of an orgasm fastly approaching your cunt, blooming ecstasy swirling around your intestines.
“Ahh—I won’t. As long as you tell me...” Gojo starts, a slight purr to his voice, the kind that always appears when he decides to tease you, to make you beg for it. “…T-Tell m-me—how much you l-looove me.” Slurring, he grinds his hips into yours, cockhead touching every last inch of your abused cunt.
“Toru, Toru—Toruuu!” And you do, a Gojo love shrunken mantra falls off the tip of your tongue with a clench of your walls, body jerking, eyes rolling; your release taking over you tenfold.
Galaxies of blue swirls and red pricks tickle your dampened eyesight, the sweet spot between your thighs feeling like booming fireworks erupting through your Gojo-rewired nervous system, clit throbbing and legs shaking ‘n cramping.
“Oh—God baby.” He groans, a slight whimper in his gravelly voice, dropping it down to a whisper.
Thrust!
“When you sound like that cummin’ on my cock…”
Thrust!
“…There’s not a fuckin’ chance I’m ever gonna pull out of my pussy...”
Thrust!
“…Ever again.”
Your stomach drops for a different reason, for a man known to always push the lines in the bedroom, he’s never not pulled out, always timing his release with razor sharp precision. “D-Does that mean i-inside?”
“Insideeee—Fuck! Fill my pussy up, show this womb who she belongs tooo.” And he sings it like he means it, the tip of his crying cock repeatedly striking your cervix with a certain relative drive, it’s almost as if his heavy cock is trying to greet your womb with a big! fat! kiss!welcoming his silky seed as a permanent guest to its residence.
You’re utterly exhausted, eyes so thick and heavy, your eyelids barely hang open, mouth drooling copious amounts of sleepy drool down the crevice of your plush lips—body foolishly drunk off his pounding cock. “Inside Toru!” You squeal, nails scratching the bedframe like a cat in a crate at the vet, attempting to fuck yourself back onto his cock, but it’s impossible when he’s like this, a devilish heat pouring through his evil hive-minded dick.
“Oh and she jus’ wants it baby, even fucked out and sleepy I can feel her squeezin’ me tight—shit! Inside… Inside forever.”
“Forever?” You whine, eyes fighting the sheep your brain tries to count. The vigorous pressure only building and building in your sticky walls, orgasm after orgasm blooming in your sore cunt; your sensitive walls can barely grasp a hold of him anymore, the slick allowing him to easily maneuver in the canal like a madman.
With a rough thrust his body falls onto your shoulder heading landing right in the warm crest of your neck, pearly white canines finding the sensitive spot and biting down on the supple skin with a growl. “Mine.”
You’re completely numb to the feeling, brain mushy and unsure if he possibly ripped another orgasm out of you, your body is too focused on the feeling of his seed filling you suddenly.
Sticky-sappy release pumping all through your walls and up through your cervix, panting your ridges a bright, bright, bright! shade of pearly white, seed slowly oozing its way to your warm womb like a lava lamp, stuffing it full with warm goop.
Gojo wraps his arms around you, sweaty muscles and sex scented skin tickling your nose; he rolls you onto your side like a personal play toy, his cock still somehow stuffed deep inside of you.
Moving a strand of your hair, he leaves a small kiss to your sticky temple, a smirk plastered on his lips. “Don’t think ‘m falling asleep anytime soon baby, heh—gonna keep me up all night aren’t ya?”
a/n: art by _3aem on x !! didn’t think i’d have this much fun writing for gojo but now i live here so prepare to be sick of me (and him)
You hiccupped. The smell of cinnamon and nutmeg on your breath, and your body warm to the touch thanks to Robin’s spiked eggnog.
“You, okay?” Penny’s voice was sweet and thick like syrup. The lull in her speech let you know she had enjoyed Robin’s brandy-infused concoction too.
“Mhmm,” you hummed, your thoughts hazy and your cheeks flushed. Penny held out a wet plate for you to dry. The wide, round ceramic dish thinned as she laid it flat in her grasp and passed it to you. You took it, dried it with the dishcloth bunched in your hand and set it aside on the counter.
“Thanks for staying to help clean,” Maru spoke while swaying a broom across the wooden floors. She paused next to Penny and kissed her cheek.
“Oh,” Penny giggled and held her small hand against her coral lips. You peered over at the rise and fall of Penny’s shoulders as she giggled for way too long, and you realized you had never seen the mild-mannered bookworm this drunk.
“Yeah, no problem—hey, thanks for inviting me,” you smiled politely and dried your hands with the cloth in your hands. Penny and Maru shared a prolonged, lustful glance. Their eyes round and glazed with devotion. You took it as your cue. “I should probably go.”
“No,” Penny grunted, belligerent. She latched onto your arm before being overtaken by another fit of giggles. When she realized what she had done, she let go of you and took a step back, nearly toppling over. But Maru held out her arms and steadied Penny before leaning the broom against the kitchen counter.
“I think you should lie down,” Maru guided Penny toward her bedroom in the same way Demetrius had done for Robin only an hour ago. You watched Maru cart Penny away. Penny’s feet drumming on the floor as she stumbled. The two disappeared into the hallway and left you alone in the kitchen. A wave of loneliness washed over you and pressed down your chest. You had been chronically single since you’d moved to Pelican town—and as much as you loved seeing your two friends happy—it made you feel even more alone at times.
You peeled your winter coat off the back of a kitchen chair and fitted your arms into the sleeves.
“Heading out?” Maru stood in the doorway while you buttoned up your coat.
“Yep,” you looked over your shoulder to glance at her and stuffed your hands in your coat pockets.
“I’ll walk you out,” Maru turned her back to you and you followed her. “Sorry about Penny,” Maru examined you briefly, “she didn’t realize the eggnog was spiked.”
“She’s fine,” you shrugged and smiled, “weird seeing her drunk though.” A quick loud laugh jostled Maru’s body.
“It is weird,” you peered at Maru’s shiny painted lips as she spoke. A small silence passed. “So,” Maru drawled, “meet anyone…nice?”
A rush of warmth gathered in your face and Maru stopped walking to stare at you. A photo of Robin holding a tiny version of Maru hung on the wall next to Maru’s head. You looked away from Maru’s shining eyes and continued down the hall.
“Er,” you sighed, “no.’
The two of you stood in front of the entrance to Robin’s shop.
“Oh,” Maru sounded disappointed, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had failed her in some way. “Really? I thought you might—”
“It’s fine,” you drew a dash in the air with your hand, “you don’t have to set me up.”
“I know,” Maru mumbled while you clutched the doorknob and gave it a twist.
You could not wait to get home.
But as soon as you opened the door, you heard the whirring of strong winds and looked down to see the ground piled high with snow. A heavy gust slammed the door shut and you inwardly groaned.
“Looks like you’re staying,” Maru’s words rang in your ears and played in your mind on a loop.
The last time Maru and Penny had stayed at your house, the two had woken you up in the dead of night. What could only be described as them devouring each other had echoed throughout the farmhouse. You were too embarrassed to tell them you were awake and turned on your side. Away from them. And tried to go back to sleep. But it was no use, and you couldn’t look either of them in the eye for a week.
This time felt like it’d be worse. Because prior to the symphony of your friends having sloppy drunk sex, there’d be an interrogation. Millions of questions would be asked about what you thought of every guy you had spoken to at Robin’s winter star party. And as much as you loved Penny and Maru, you preferred your warm bed to the hard wooden floor.
“No,” you shook your head from side to side and turned the knob again, but the wind tugged the door shut. No, no, no, no, your thoughts cried while you rested your forehead on the door.
“You alright?” Maru’s eyebrows rose above her curious stare.
“Yeah,” you lifted your head away from the door and released the knob, “I just don’t want to intrude…,” your voice carried, and Maru’s eyes widened. And judging by the splash of pink splattered across her nose and cheeks, you figured she understood.
“I know the floors are a bit stiff,” Maru spoke quickly.
“Uh-huh,” you nodded in agreement, “very stiff.” Maru covered her shoulder with her hand and scratched her purple shirt.
“I guess you could sleep on Seb’s couch.”
You swallowed hard at the thought. You’d spoken to Sebastian a few times, but he wasn’t exactly a talker. And was always eager to excuse himself from conversation. Even at his mother’s winter star party he hadn’t bothered to make an appearance.
“I’ll tell Seb,” Maru’s voice was chipper now. She was visibly pleased with her solution and walked to the basement steps. You held your arms out, as if to stop her. But formed fists when you realized your fate had been decided, and your arms dropped to your sides before catching up to Maru’s stride.
“Seb,” Maru called to him while knocking on his door. There was no response. “I know you’re in there,” Maru’s tone dropped an octave, and it sent chills down your spine. You heard Sebastian groan and the swish of plastic wheels gliding across the floor. You glanced at Maru staring directly at the door as the knob clicked and Sebastian’s face appeared in the small gap he formed.
“She’s sleeping on your couch tonight,” Maru informed him while pointing her thumb at you. Sebastian’s sight trailed away from Maru’s stern expression to you. You feigned surprise. His piercing grey eyes stood out against his ruffled midnight black hair. He chewed his lip and the steel ring that followed the curve of his bottom lip wiggled.
“Fine,” you watched his lip ring move as he spoke. Sebastian blinked, and his long lashes bounced on his smooth skin. You could have sworn he was moving in slow motion. The bass of Maru’s voice seemed to play in the distance, becoming louder until….
“Hey!” you jumped, and time returned to its normal pace. Stunned, you responded with a blank stare and a smirk spread across Maru’s face like wildfire. “I’ll get you a blanket,” her voice wavered menacingly, taunting you.
“I,” you cut yourself off, trying to find a way to deny what had happened while you nearly chased Maru up the stairs.
Sebastian’s lips curled like a pink ribbon. He left the door ajar and went to sit down on his desk chair. Waiting for you.
Maru pulled a quilted blanket from a cabinet in the hallway and passed it to you.
“You know, I wasn’t,” you struggled to explain yourself while Maru laid the folded green quilt in your arms.
“Checking out my brother?” Maru finished your sentence and Penny’s voice flooded the hall. She was groaning Maru’s name as if to summon her.
“I don’t know if I’d put it like that,” you gripped the blanket, digging your fingers into the cloth.
“How would you put it?” Maru teased while the ends of her mouth reached for her ears. And you contemplated if freezing to death in the snowstorm was a better alternative.
“I don’t know what you mean,” your words were followed by a nervous laughter.
“Right,” Maru laughed, and you felt your friend’s eyes burn through your farce. “And technetium is a man-made element.” Your brows lowered and pressed together while you tried to understand Maru’s reference. But you gave up and decided it was another one of her jokes only Penny would understand. You were hesitant to respond.
“Uh, sure?”
“Goodnight,” Maru chuckled and patted the blanket in your arms before following the sound of Penny’s summoning spell.
Sebastian watched you push his bedroom door open, and his heartbeat took the pace of a hummingbird’s wings. Your body language was rigid, and he wondered why you were so uncomfortable.
“Hey,” you whispered, eyes pointed downward while setting the folded blanket on the armrest of his black couch.
“Hey,” he responded, and you jerked your head upwards to see him smiling at you. A jolt of panic and pleasure shocked you. You smiled back, although you felt like it may have been crooked, or not good enough in some way. At least not as perfect as his smile.
“Sorry to bother you,” seated at his desk, Sebastian watched you unbutton your coat as you talked to him. His insides felt like a knot being tugged tightly.
“You don’t bother me,” his response was immediate. Rushed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and berated himself for being so cringe.
“Are you sure?” you regretted it as soon as you said it.
“I’m sure,” Sebastian laughed, a little too loud. With his elbow rested on the desk, he lowered his head into his hand and stared down at his keyboard to hide his face from you.
Dammit Maru, he cursed her from the safety of his mind. Did she do this on purpose? How did she know?
“If it’s too much I can sleep on the shop floor or something, you know, I don’t want you to feel like you have to,” your words were jumbled as you strung them together in a hurry. Sebastian covered both his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath.
“The shop floor?” Sebastian laughed and pressed his face further into his palms before raising his head away from them.
“Yeah,” the electric shame you felt made your eyes water. “I can go,” you started to gather the blanket back in your arms, but Sebastian stood. His movements were so abrupt his chair flew backwards and almost tipped over.
“No!” he shouted, and you froze. Sebastian felt like he was moving outside the confines of his body. That you could somehow see all the times and ways he had thought of you. The silence that followed was painful. Your timid hands finished taking off your coat and you laid it down on his couch. Eyes wet and your mind spinning.
“Okay,” you crossed your arms and hugged yourself while your eyes bounced around the room. Focusing on anything other than Sebastian.
“How about something to drink?” Sebastian’s fist pulled at the collar of his black t-shirt.
“That’d be nice,” your voice squeaked, and Sebastian nodded before rushing past you and leaving the room.
You loosened your grip on your torso and lowered yourself onto the couch. You looked straight ahead at the small table crowded by three green stools and took deep breaths. In retrospect maybe listening to Penny and Maru get it on was the better choice. You had forgotten how strained every interaction you had with Sebastian was. It was no wonder he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible. You must have ruined his evening.
You picked at the thick hem of the couch cushion and tried not to cry.
Sebastian returned and handed you a large, plastic cup filled with Robin’s eggnog. It was a lot of alcohol, and you were grateful. Maybe if you got drunk enough you could pass out and this night would be done. Surprised, a small groan vibrated in your throat when Sebastian sat beside you, holding a cup that matched yours.
“I didn’t—if you don’t want to hang out,” Sebastian moved to stand. Without thinking, you reached out and snatched a section of his fuzzy plaid pajama pants.
“Don’t go,” your eyes met. Sebastian swallowed hard and sat back down. It took you a second to realize you were still holding onto his pants. You tore your hand away and turned away from him. Facing the green stools again, you took a sizeable sip of eggnog. You were thankful the effect of the alcohol was immediate.
Sebastian wondered if you could hear his accelerated breath. If you had made note of his sweaty palms yet. This is why he couldn’t bear to have any prolonged social contact with you. He couldn’t understand what he ever did to Maru to deserve this. Even if it was what he wanted, this wasn’t one of the many scenarios he had played out in his head.
“So,” you both stated in unison, turning your heads to look at each other before immediately looking away. You giggled and Sebastian thought he might combust into a million fragments of himself. He imagined you looking on in horror as chunks of his flesh floated in the air.
“Did you have fun at the party?” he blurted. Everything he said seemed to spill from him like he was in a constant state of overflowing.
“Sure,” you grinned dumbly, eyes settled on the frothy white liquid in your cup. “It’s too bad you couldn’t make it,” you joked and took another drink.
“Couldn’t find a ride,” Sebastian shrugged, and you choked on the eggnog in your throat but forced it down. You faced each other again and a flood of warmth washed over you. Your body tingled and your mind was blank while your cheeks felt strained from how hard you were smiling. Your shoulders relaxed, and an avalanche of relief tumbled throughout Sebastian. “But crowds aren’t really my thing,” Sebastian explained, running his hand through his hair. You bit your lip as you watched the tufts of black glide through the spaces between his fingers. His hand rested on his neck while he waited for your response and took a drink.
“For sure, I get that,” your head bobbed up and down for a moment. “Secretly, I’m not really a fan either, but Maru really wanted me to come,” you winked at Sebastian, and he held his next breath hostage for a moment before releasing it.
“Because they keep trying to set you up with someone,” Sebastian spoke without thinking. You stared at him, eyes wide and horrified. And Sebastian wondered if he had exploded. He certainly felt like it would be a good time to do so. “Shit, I’m so, so sorry.”
“Wow.”
“I heard them talking about it earlier,” Sebastian tried to explain himself and squeezed his neck with his hand.
“I wish they wouldn’t,” you murmured, making an executive decision to start chugging the drink in your hand. The cup covered your mouth and you lapped at the eggnog like an errant dog. You were hopeful for the first time tonight—hopeful you could escape the levels of social hell you had endured throughout the night. If not physically, then mentally. You promised yourself you’d never let Maru talk you into another party again. But you knew it was a comforting lie you didn’t have the guts to follow through with.
“I get it,” then Sebastian took a drink too. And you wondered if he too was trying to dig himself out of the hole the two of you had found yourselves in, and if the attempts at conversation he made were out of pity. Even if they were, you felt grateful he’d even bother trying after being imposed on.
“Really?” your eyes gleamed. Sebastian swallowed a mouthful of brandy with a splash of eggnog and rolled his tongue across the back of his front teeth. So cute, his mind whirred like the strong winds outside his home. She’s so cute.
“Sam and Abby try to set me up all the time,” Sebastian’s eyes averted your gaze and you looked away from him in the hopes of making him feel more comfortable.
“With who?” your curiosity got the better of you.
“Recent? Some girl from the city,” from the corner of your eye you watched Sebastian lift his shoulders to his ears before letting them drop. They seemed heavy. Invested, you straightened your back and leaned closer to him.
“What happened?” You watched him squirm a bit in his seat next to you while holding his cup over his lap with both his hands.
“She said I took too long to text her back,” the pointed tip of his nose twitched, “so I stopped texting her.” And he took a drink. You stared at him for a moment before allowing yourself to be swept up in a dry chuckle. “What?” he scoffed and twisted his torso to set his drink aside on his desk. He reached out and offered to take your cup. You held your hand out and chugged the last of your drink before handing it to him. You let the brandy hammer away at you, pressing your worries further into the depths of your mind until they disappeared.
“What do you mean, what?” you chuckled and laid your palm flat against Sebastian’s arm. Squeezing it before letting go. Thanks to the alcohol, the knot in his stomach wasn’t as tight now, but he still felt it wrench inside him.
Do you think I’m a bad person for doing that? is what he had wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask.
“She wanted me to text her like every hour of the day,” he explained himself, in the hopes you wouldn’t think any less of him.
“Oh,” you beamed, “you don’t have to feel bad about it.”
“No?” he cocked his head to the side and wiggled his lip ring with the tip of his tongue. Mesmerized, you studied the contours of his mouth. Sebastian watched your gaze and realized what you were doing. His lips widened into a playful grin, and your body responded with a growing tightness in your lower belly. “Are…are you staring at me?” Sebastian leaned his head toward yours and you looked away from him. You covered your face in your hands and titled your body forward. “You are, aren’t you?” he teased and swept his hand across your back. When you didn’t recoil, he lifted his hand and stroked your hair. It tickled the tips of his fingers. You lifted your head away from your hands and held them next to your face.
“Would you please stop pretending you don’t know how hot you are,” you chanted while waving your hands back and forth.
Sebastian’s head jolted back in surprise and held both his palms against his chest.
“Me?” His mind shook like a cave collapsing.
“Yoba,” you whined, “I’m just going to go die in the snow,” you moved to stand.
“Hey, come on,” Sebastian chuckled while grabbing your hips and giving them a light tug. “Stay here with me.” You plopped back down on the couch. Your words had given Sebastian a rush of confidence—but he was still not entirely emboldened—so he let go of you.
“I always thought you didn’t like me,” you confessed.
Didn’t think I liked you? Sebastian’s thoughts protested. She’s lost her mind.
“Wha-Why?” he narrowed his eyes and for a moment held his hands out with his palms open.
“This is so embarrassing,” you whimpered, tapping your feet against the floors. You stared up at the ceiling for a minute before looking at him. “I don’t know, it seemed like you didn’t like talking to me.”
Sebastian considered telling you how you had made him too nervous to speak but decided against it.
“I don’t talk a lot,” he explained while wiping his sweaty palm on his shirt.
“I know,” you touched his shoulder briefly. A spark of excitement rippled throughout his body each time you felt comfortable enough to touch him. “I guess I kind of hoped…you’d want to talk to me. I know it’s dumb….”
“This whole thing with Maru—you met someone yet?” Sebastian questioned you, a single brow arched. You gazed at him. Eyes half open. Peering past a dreamy film.
Sebastian decided the only way you could make it any clearer you liked him was if you wrote it in sharpie on your forehead. And he was officially emboldened.
Before you could form a response, he leaned closer. Fear and excitement popped inside you. His hot breath trailed across your face, and it smelled like sweet cinnamon. Too stunned, it wasn’t until you felt the steel of his lip ring mark your bottom lip that you kissed him back. Your insides boiling like a pot of water. Sebastian felt your lips melt against his and was slow to pull away. Your lips peeled apart. With your foreheads pressed, and eyes locked, you could both hear and feel each other’s strained breaths.
Sebastain nodded his head yes and you did the same.
He leaned onto the back of the couch, and you followed his lead. You lifted your leg to sit on his lap, and Sebastian’s hand glided across your thigh, pulling you to him. When the crotch of your jeans hovered above his lap, he grabbed your face with both his hands and pulled you closer. His lips cradled your top lip for a few seconds before he withdrew. Palms latching onto your cheeks, you felt his right thumb stroke your jaw.
It was as if he had been plucked from reality and placed inside a shaken snow globe. Sebastian’s body was warm. Light. His shoulders didn’t feel heavy anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good.
Your hands rested on his chest and crumpled his t-shirt. A desperate attempt to ground yourself in what you had to assume was a lucid dream.
His thumb moved from your jaw to the center of your bottom lip. He pressed the pad of his thumb down and watched it dent your lip. You spread your legs and sank further into his lap, grazing his dick with your crotch.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he whined, dragging his thumb down your bottom lip before pulling you into another kiss. This time, he held his tongue out and lightly licked your top lip before covering your mouth with his. He parted his lips, and your lungs were filled with his breath. You pushed your hips even further into his.
While your mouths moved in synchronized movements and his tongue fumbled with yours, Sebastian’s hands dropped to your waist and held you still as he bucked his bulge against your jeans. You severed the kiss. With a flushed face, your eyes begged Sebastian for more. His dick pushed against his pants and ached. He took the opportunity to lift your shirt. You took the hint and grabbed the hem to raise your shirt over your head. Sebastian preoccupied himself with unclasping your bra while your head disappeared behind your shirt before reappearing.
Once he finished freeing the last clasp, he was quick to shimmy your bra away from your chest. And even quicker to grab a breast in each of his hands. He paused and admired the sight of his hands holding your tits. Your nipples poked through the space between his splayed fingers. He leaned over and dragged your nipple across his tongue, until the rounded tip of your tit met the tapered end of his pink tongue. He swirled the tip of his tongue around your sensitive mound of flesh and a tickle of pleasure radiated throughout your body. You wiggled on his lap. Sebastain squeezed his thighs together, desire radiating throughout his shaft and pulsating in the head of his cock.
You slid your hand down his chest and cradled his bulge in your warm hand. Rubbing the cloth around his erect dick. Sebastian let go of your boobs and grabbed your wrist. Guiding your hand away from his cock, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“Take your pants off for me?”
The nod you responded with was eager, and you teetered off his lap to fulfill his request.
He hooked his thumbs in his boxers and lifted his hips to pull them off alongside his pants. His cock free now, he stroked himself while watching you undress.
Sebastian held the base of his stiff dick between his thumb and his index finger. You looked down at the cough-drop-colored tip slathered in precum and crawled back on top of his lap. You inhaled sharply as you lowered yourself onto his dick. Sebastian sucked his stomach in to get the best view of his dick entering your wet pussy. He chewed on his lip as the girth of his fat cock caused the glossed ruffles of your cunt to split apart. Once he had bottomed out you leaned forward to kiss him and felt his length slip out of your pussy. Sebastian didn’t hesitate to guide his cock back inside you before pushing your hips down. And then up. Setting the pace he wanted, you followed his instruction.
His fingers pressed against your clit, and you recoiled from his touch, pushing your hips away. Causing him to adapt a lighter pressure, he circled the edges around your clit softly. You moaned and bounced on his cock faster. He didn’t bother to stop you as you used his cock.
Soft whimpers were charmed from your lungs despite your desperate attempts to muffle them. The simmer of your desire scorched into an inferno until the ripples of ecstasy swam in your stomach and released you from the fire.
Sebastian came shortly after you and held your waist as he spilled into you.
The Germans really cooked making "Hobbyless behaviour" an insult. It is both devastating, applicable to a wide range of people and behaviours, and doesn't resort to swearing.
Man ranting on the internet about the Superbowl halftime show or complaining that something is "woke"? Hobbyless Behaviour. Girls mocking another girl for not looking right? Hobbyless Behaviour. Mindless vandalism? Hobbyless Behaviour.
It is more powerful than "get a life" or the English "You're Sad" because it gets to the central point of the matter, and that is wonderful. Danke, Deutsch.
Oneshot: Monkey D. Garp x reader
Length: 4 K+
Rating: 16+ (Language)
Vice Admiral Garp is undone by a sundress, strategic sabotage, and one very dangerous woman.
(NEXT)
Come get your GILF @thisloserhere
Port Harla simmered beneath the blaze of high noon, a hot and hazy checkpoint nestled along the East Blue trade lane. The air pulsed with the hum of cicadas, thick with heat and the scent of salt, sweat, and something faintly metallic. Stone streets radiated warmth like griddles left too long in the sun, and the harbor shimmered as if the world itself had been thrown into a fever dream.
Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp stood at the edge of the dock, arms crossed, jaw set. He was there to oversee a routine supply transfer. Or at least, it had been routine before everything began going wrong.
The crew dragged their feet like sulky children, slapping lazily at flies and fanning themselves with whatever paper or hat they could find. One man had tucked a fish down his shirt to keep cool. Another had mistaken sugar for salt in the rations. The cannonballs were miscounted. The ink on the manifests was smudged to the point of illegibility. The rice balls he’d brought from town were sad and soggy, warm in the worst way. Everything, in short, was going to hell. Slowly. Inefficiently. With the infuriating calm of a man being bled dry by ants.
And the sun. Gods, the sun. It pressed on him like a weight, baking through his uniform and leaving him sticky and half-feral, a warhound being slow-cooked in navy blue.
He tugged at his collar for the tenth time and roared something unrepeatable at a sailor who dropped a crate of cannon primers. His voice cracked over the water, startling a flock of gulls from the rafters. Bogard winced from a respectful distance. A bead of sweat slid down the side of Garp’s face and disappeared into his collar, right as he bit into a lukewarm rice ball and seriously considered committing violence.
That was when it happened. The moment everything stopped.
A shape stepped out from the haze at the edge of the port. Not a pirate. Not a marine. Not anyone who belonged in this heatstroke of a warzone. A woman.
You.
You walked with the unbothered sway of someone completely unsuited for a place like this, and somehow made it feel like everything else was the one out of place. Your shoulders were bare. Your sandals were delicate. And your sundress—small, yellow, and criminally light—moved with the wind in a way that was not appropriate for wartime. Or peacetime. Or any time that required a man of discipline to remain disciplined.
It was the kind of dress that didn’t hug curves so much as whisper to them. It flirted with your knees. It played with the breeze. It sparkled a little in the sun, as if it knew exactly what it was doing. The color was bright and wicked, like sunshine licked over honey. Or sin.
You had a little bag tucked over one arm. A parasol spun lazily in your hand. And your expression, God help him, was the sort of thing that could get a priest excommunicated just for noticing it.
Garp choked on his rice ball.
Bogard, who had been checking the harbor log, followed the line of his commanding officer’s suddenly stricken gaze. He paused. Blinked. Then looked again.
“…Sir?” he asked cautiously.
Garp said nothing.
He just stared, rice ball half-chewed, one hand still mid-motion at his collar.
You met his gaze as you strolled closer, the picture of afternoon leisure, a summer day in motion. You smiled—easy, lazy, sun-warmed—and it was the kind of smile that promised nothing but mischief and slow, thorough ruin.
From that moment forward, Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp would never know peace again.
“I’m fine,” Garp snapped, wiping his mouth and chest in one frantic motion. “Just—the heat.”
Sure. The heat. Not the way your dress dipped low at the back. Not the flick of your fingers adjusting the hem like it was riding up, which, spoiler alert, it absolutely was. Not the soft, bouncing step you took as you moved toward the harbor, like you didn’t have a damn clue the Hero of the Marines was one breath away from barking on all fours.
He watched the way the light caught your hair. Watched the sundress flutter against your thighs, fabric teasing like it had a personal vendetta. His brain—veteran of a thousand naval battles, siege master of coastal strongholds, slayer of sea kings—emptied.
You weren’t even trying.
You stood with one hand on your hip, the other lifting your parasol with a gentle turn of the wrist. The sun caught the tops of your shoulders. Your smile was bright. Your eyes were all kinds of trouble. You wore yellow. Garp, now and forever, loved yellow.
Awooga.
He didn’t say it out loud, but the sentiment echoed in his soul with the clarity of cannon fire.
You weren’t loud. You didn’t need to be. You vibrated on a frequency only his poor, overheated bones could detect. You were a danger dressed like a daydream, sunshine painted with warning stripes. That little dress clung to you like it had opinions—tied in scandalous bows at the shoulders, swaying well above your knees, moving like it knew exactly how to weaponize a breeze.
Garp stopped walking.
Then he stopped breathing.
And then, like a man struck directly in the spine by divine interference, he grunted, “Huh.”
You caught his gaze and smiled again. Slower this time. Measured. Your sandals whispered over the stone, and the parasol twirled lazily in your hands like you had nowhere to be except exactly where he was.
He hadn’t noticed how long he’d been staring until Bogard leaned over and said, low and dry, “Sir. Your rice ball is leaking.”
Garp didn’t blink. “Don’t care.”
You smiled again and let him look.
Let him take it all in.
And oh, he did.
He devoured you with his eyes—starved, stunned, silent. He took in the curve of your waist, the sunlight on your thighs, the ribbon sliding from your shoulder like it had secrets. You weren’t showy. You weren’t flirting. You were worse. You were possibly interested. Like a dream that walked toward him instead of vanishing. Like an invitation that didn’t need words.
It did something unholy to him.
By the time you reached the ship and tilted your head in a show of gentle confusion, Garp had already imagined bending you over every stable surface of the vessel. Twice.
“Vice Admiral, isn’t it?” you asked, squinting just enough to pass for innocent. “Could you help me? I’m a little turned around.”
He made a noise that might have once been language. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Of course.”
He cleared his throat. Adjusted his waistband. For stability. No other reason.
“Hi?” he offered, with the helpless tone of a man trying not to drown in thigh-high water.
“Hello,” you replied, voice smooth as honey poured slowly over warm stone. “Quite a day for a stroll, no?”
You let the wind catch the hem of your dress again. Just slightly. Just enough.
His eyes dropped. You felt them settle, hot and unrelenting, like fingertips dragging across skin.
“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” he said. His voice came out too low, too rough around the edges.
You stepped closer, your sandals silent, your parasol tilting like punctuation at the end of a flirt.
“Neither do you.”
You smiled like a girl who knew exactly what she was doing. Knew that he knew it. Knew he wouldn’t stop you even if he could. Sweetness bloomed across your face, innocent on the surface, soaked in sin underneath.
“I do wonder,” you murmured, your tone soft and rich, like butter left to melt over rum cake. “Would you happen to know if there’s a ship heading east?”
He was reasonably certain he was headed east now. Spiritually. Mentally. Possibly even physically.
Garp’s jaw twitched. He opened his mouth, and nothing came out. His brain had thrown itself overboard.
“Yeah,” he managed, dragging the word out like he was lassoing it from a distance. “Yeah, maybe. Why? Where you headed?”
“Anywhere cooler,” you said, lifting the parasol to your shoulder with a faint sigh. “It’s sweltering.”
Your skin gleamed in the sun. Your lips curved like you knew what they did to a man. And Garp, veteran of wars, scourge of pirates, Hero of the Marines, stood in the middle of a dock in full uniform, sweating like a schoolboy at confession.
“You look a bit warm yourself,” you added, tilting your head. “Are you all right, Vice Admiral?”
He coughed into his fist, loud and aimless. “Peachy.”
Somewhere behind him, Bogard made a strangled noise like he had just swallowed his tongue.
You shifted again, fingertips brushing the hem of your skirt with casual elegance. Garp’s hand jerked, and his rice ball slipped in his grip for the second time that day. He fumbled it back into place with the desperation of a man clinging to the last shred of dignity.
There was a freckle.
One.
Right on the inside of your thigh.
It caught the sunlight like it had been placed there on purpose, and it stole every rational thought he’d ever had.
“You, uh, need an escort?” he asked, chest puffing up with the blind confidence of a man experiencing religious awakening. “Could give you a tour of the flagship.”
Behind him, Bogard made another sound. Garp ignored it. His blood was hot. His vision was hazy. His soul had already fled.
You tilted your head, gaze soft and considering. “Would you?”
Garp grinned. He flexed, just a touch, like a bear trying to impress a butterfly. “Sure. I mean, can’t let someone so delicate wander around alone in pirate waters.”
Your lashes lowered in the kind of blink that should be classified as a controlled substance. When your fingers brushed his arm, light and grateful, something behind his eyes flickered dangerously.
Garp nearly shut down.
He believed it. He wanted to believe it.
Because for three whole seconds, the world slowed to a crawl. No gunfire. No sirens. No orders barking across the harbor. Just you. Just your touch. Just the idea of possibility cracking open in his chest like spring after war.
And in the place where logic once lived, only one thought bloomed: Wife material.
You let him offer the tour.
You accepted.
Bold of him.
Bolder of you.
Around you, the Marines had stopped pretending not to stare. Some watched with awe. Some watched with terror. A few whispered behind their hands, unsure if they were witnessing courtship or an oncoming scandal.
Garp didn’t notice.
He was grinning like a fool and offering you a skewer of grilled fish from a street vendor with the enthusiasm of a man who believed himself blessed.
He was trying to guess your background. Diplomat, maybe. Or royalty. Possibly the daughter of some high-ranking admiral slumming it in disguise. An angel, if angels had wicked smiles and legs for days. A mirage, if mirages could touch.
Definitely wife material.
“I don’t usually escort civilians,” he said, puffing up like a peacock showing off his medals. “Too busy keeping the seas safe.”
“Oh, you seem very safe,” you said, voice sugared and innocent.
He preened like a rooster on parade.
He told himself it was a matter of professional courtesy. Basic good manners. Chivalry, even. You didn’t argue. You just walked beside him, steps light, questions softer still, your laughter slipping into the air like the scent of something addictive.
You let your fingers brush his arm. Once. Just once.
His entire body reacted like he had been struck in the gut.
You paused beside the cannons, leaned forward with the curiosity of someone very new to weaponry. Your dress slid a little higher as you bent to examine the rigging, and your lip caught gently against your teeth. It was unintentional, probably. Maybe.
He stood behind you, fists clenched at his sides, trying to remember what year it was.
“Something wrong, Vice Admiral?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder. Your voice was polite. Your eyes were not.
He looked like a man on trial, guilty of crimes against restraint.
“No,” he said, a little too fast. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”
You stepped toward him, slow and unhurried, like the thought of falling into his arms had simply crossed your mind and you were entertaining it for sport. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. His whole body had locked into place, spine tense, hands twitching at his sides.
He watched the fabric of your dress shift with each step, soft as smoke and dangerous as gunpowder. Every sway of your hips sent his brain further into emergency shutdown. You walked like a question he didn’t know how to answer.
And then you whispered, “You’ve been watching me since the dock.”
His throat worked around the sudden dryness. He swallowed hard. Too hard.
“You wore that dress on purpose,” he growled, voice cracking at the edges with something between accusation and desperation.
“Of course I did,” you murmured, tilting your head just enough to be lethal. “Wouldn’t you, if you knew someone like you was watching?”
That was it. That was the moment. The moment he broke.
Not physically. Garp was still every inch the Marine. Built like a fortress. Steady as war. He didn’t buckle, didn’t tremble, didn’t collapse in any obvious way.
But something cracked. Deep inside. Quietly.
Because you had undone him. With a sundress. With a voice that sounded like heatstroke and sin. With thighs he had been trying, and failing, not to think about since the second you stepped into the sun.
He didn’t know it yet, not fully, but this was the start of his downfall.
Because once you stepped aboard that ship, his brain stayed behind, tangled somewhere in your dress, and never caught up.
You let him lead. Let him think he was in charge.
He pointed out the helm, still trying to sound composed. Showed you the cannons again, now with fewer coherent sentences. Took you to the map room, where he gestured at things with a lot of unnecessary flexing.
You cooed softly at each station he showed you. Nodded in all the right places. Eyes wide. Smile bright. Every inch the sweet, attentive civilian.
And then, when no one was watching, you stepped behind him.
Your fingers moved fast, practiced. Two ropes twisted into a sailor’s knot. A dagger, slipped from your parasol, drove cleanly into the pulley control. The mechanism jammed with a metallic groan. Somewhere deep in the ship’s rigging, tension snapped.
Garp frowned. “Huh. Did you hear—”
You didn’t let him finish.
You stepped in close, reached behind him, and pulled.
His belt came undone with the crisp efficiency of someone who had absolutely done this before.
His trousers hit the deck with a heavy thunk.
Garp spun, half-naked, boots on, pants pooled at his ankles, outrage forming like a stormcloud.
Before he could speak, you kissed his cheek.
“Thanks for the tour, sweet thing.”
Then you were gone. One smooth dive over the side. A small splash. And there you were, already landing on a waiting raft bobbing just offshore.
You turned and gave a little wave.
Garp remained frozen, stunned, pantsless, red-faced, and unfortunately aroused. Not just with fury, but with something much worse.
Want.
Because you had pantsed the Hero of the Marines. Not figuratively. Not in some lofty, political, metaphorical way.
Literally.
One flick of your parasol, lined on the inside with kairoseki, how very rude—and a quick tug of his belt while he was gesturing gallantly at the horizon. Down went the whites.
The Marines screamed.
You blew him a kiss.
“SHE STOLE MY WALLET!”
Garp’s roar shook the harbor. He was still trying to yank his trousers up when the first explosion rocked through the fleet.
One by one, his ships began to spin in place. Anchors dragged like drunken sea serpents. Sails flapped and tangled. Masts knocked together with splintering groans. Ballasts came loose. Compasses spun like they’d been cursed.
You had sabotaged the rudder controls during the walk. Loosened the anchors. Unclipped sails. Cut half a dozen key lines and trapped the others in knots so clever they’d take a full crew a week to untangle.
It was adorable chaos.
Strategic humiliation.
You waved from the raft as it bobbed into the sea lane, now significantly richer in both beli and the priceless treasure of Garp’s tactical embarrassment.
“Thanks for the tour!” you called, voice warm and bright over the rising sounds of mayhem. “I’ll write!”
Back on the deck, Garp stood trembling, pants halfway secured, hair askew, eyes fixed on the horizon like it had personally betrayed him.
Bogard approached in silence and handed him a report.
“She destroyed the formation, sir.”
Before Garp could respond, a second ship behind them swung hard off course, performed a majestic, slow-motion spin, and slammed into the pier with all the grace of a drunk cow. The sound of crunching wood was deafening.
Both men winced.
“She rewired the helm lines,” Bogard added quietly. “In less than fifteen minutes. Walking with you.”
Silence followed.
Then came the bellow.
“She—she—I had plans for that woman!”
Bogard said nothing.
Garp pressed the note to his chest like a war medal and swore into the ocean with all the fury of a man wronged by fate itself.
Then, much softer, almost reverent, he whispered to no one at all.
“She’s perfect.”
Aboard your raft, you unpinned the parasol. Inside it: his wallet, his compass, and a map of the Marine fleet’s entire formation schedule for the next three weeks.
“Vice Admiral Garp,” you said dreamily, kicking your feet up, “you are not ready for me.”
The raft had long vanished beyond the horizon by the time the full scope of your crimes revealed itself.
One warship had beached itself completely on the western sandbar, its anchor lovingly wrapped around a fishing hut like an ill-mannered embrace. Another had unfurled half its sails upside down, flapping uselessly in protest. That one had you to thank for your “accidental” fiddling during the cannon tour. A third was now on fire. Not from battle. From a lemon cake.
Specifically, a lemon cake strategically placed in the boiler room.
It had combusted with comedic timing and surgical precision.
Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp stood in the center of it all—shirt open, belt crooked, eyes bloodshot—watching his entire command structure collapse like a drunken domino game.
“You see what she did?” he bellowed, voice cracking under the weight of disbelief. “She undid everything! In a sundress!”
Up the mast, halfway tangled in chaos you had left behind, Bogard called down dryly. “She also pickpocketed you mid-stare and rerouted our supply crates to the Revolutionaries, sir.”
That one stung.
This wasn’t just humiliation. This was sabotage delivered with a smile and executed with satin gloves. Tactical carnage in soft yellow cotton.
The image of your bare shoulders lingered behind his eyes like a fever dream. The smirk. The parasol. The way your dress had shifted with the breeze like it was conspiring against him. You moved like you already owned him and had chosen, generously, to leave just enough of his ego intact to let him pretend he still had a chance.
It was the most brutal defeat he had suffered since God Valley.
And he wanted it again.
A few minutes later, a breathless marine officer stumbled across the wreckage with a torn envelope in hand.
“Sir! This was in your boot.”
Bogard took it and passed it over. “Left you this.”
Garp opened the note. The handwriting was elegant. Teasing.
Next time, I’ll take the pants too.
He stared at it.
Read it again.
And again, slower this time.
Then whispered, like a man standing at the edge of something sacred and terrifying, “Damn.”
He folded the note with the care of a man tucking away a medal. Slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat like it was a love letter written in blood.
“…And god damn.”
Bogard climbed down from the rigging, landing beside him with the tired gait of someone emotionally bracing for impact.
“That was no ordinary woman,” Garp said at last, eyes still fixed on the horizon.
“No, sir,” Bogard replied. “That was a whole naval disaster in lipstick.”
Garp looked out to sea, haunted and awestruck.
“She’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.”
Bogard raised an eyebrow. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“…Yes.”
Later, Garp’s command office was quiet.
The paperwork hissed at him. He wasn’t sure if it was cursed or if the memory of your thighs had finally driven him over the edge.
Garp sat hunched at the table, staring at reports like they might bite.
Bogard entered like a man delivering a eulogy.
“Sir.”
“Don’t,” Garp muttered. “I’m still recovering. She’s in my dreams now. I hear her voice every time I close my eyes. She pantsed me spiritually.”
Bogard placed a sealed folder in front of him. The wax crest shimmered with the kind of clearance that meant secrets. Dangerous ones.
“You’ll want to see this.”
Garp opened it. He expected the worst.
He did not expect the name.
Gol D.—
He blinked. Stared.
“…Gol D.?”
Bogard nodded.
Garp flipped through the rest. Faster now. His finger trailed down the page as if afraid the words might vanish.
Pirate ties. Sister of Gol D. Roger. Suspected strategist. Operator for the Revolutionary Army. Known saboteur of Marine operations.
The blood drained from his face.
“I flirted with Roger’s sister?”
“You dry-humped her with your eyes for fifteen minutes, sir.”
“I gave her a tour! I let her on board!”
“You tried to carry her parasol.”
“She kissed me!”
“Yes. And stole your wallet.”
Garp groaned and dragged both hands down his face. “She’s a Gol.”
“A certified one.”
“She dismantled my fleet and made me want to propose.”
Bogard, without comment, handed him a bottle of rum.
Garp took it. Chugged half. Slammed it down.
He stared at the wall. Flushed. Ashamed. Aroused. Something in between.
“God damn that family. No business being that smug. That sharp. That—”
He exhaled hard through his nose, like a man approaching grief. Or acceptance.
“…I’d still marry her.”
Bogard blinked. “Sir?”
Garp began pacing, wild and uneven. “She made me look like a fool. Stole classified documents. Sank two ships. Mocked my authority. Humiliated me in front of my entire crew.”
He turned. Locked eyes with Bogard.
“And I’ve never wanted someone more.”
Bogard did not blink. “So that’s your type, huh?”
Garp dropped into his seat with a heavy thud and ran a hand through his hair.
“She’s dangerous, Bogard. Emotionally dangerous. She’d run my life into the ground and leave me thanking her for the experience.”
Bogard nodded slowly. “She’d never let you retire.”
“She’d monogram the word ‘coward’ into my laundry if I forgot our anniversary.”
“She’d seduce you and dismantle your command chain in the same breath.”
Garp’s voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “And I’d help her.”
They sat in silence.
Outside, another warship finished sinking sideways into the harbor.
Neither man flinched.
The Oro Jackson, a few months later:
Mid-Grand Line, aboard the Oro Jackson, the Rodger crew is enjoying a rare moment of peace.
Until Garp’s warship appears on the horizon for the fourth time that month.
Roger groans. Rayleigh makes tea. Shanks and Buggy place bets. And you? You just sit on the railing, swinging your legs and looking like sin in silk.
“There he is again,” said Rayleigh calmly, sipping from a chipped mug.
Shanks leaned over the railing with Buggy clinging to his ankles. “Think he’s after the captain?”
“Think he’s after her,” Buggy muttered, pointing directly at you.
You waved cheerfully at the Marine warship growing larger in the distance. “Twelve minutes before he starts shouting.”
Roger groaned, face already in his hands. “Twelve minutes before I jump overboard.”
“You know,” Rayleigh offered casually, “we could just hand her over. Solve two problems at once.”
You shot him a look.
He amended quickly. “Three problems. He gets a wife. We get a break. The Marines get therapy.”
Roger raised his head. “I would, except he doesn’t chase her like a man in love. He chases her like a man who can’t decide if he wants to put a ring on her or a collar.”
“He wants to die married,” Rayleigh said.
“Same thing,” you muttered.
On Garp’s ship, currently steaming toward the Oro Jackson like a man possessed:
“FULL SPEED!” he bellowed, fist in the air, cape flapping like it owed him money.
A Marine scrambled up the lookout. “Sir, are we engaging Gol D. Roger?”
“I’M GONNA KILL ROGER!”
The crew shouted in unison: “YES, VICE ADMIRAL!”
Garp’s next breath was slightly softer.
“…AND THEN I’M GONNA MARRY HIS SISTER!”
The crew: “…Sir?”
Garp grabbed the rail and stared dead ahead.
“You ever seen a woman destroy your command structure, steal your wallet, and still make you think about naming children?”
Bogard muttered, “Only when I’m dreaming of her, sir.”
“THEN YOU GET IT.”
Back on the Oro Jackson:
“I don’t get it,” Shanks said, clapping as the warship approached. “Is he here to kill us or flirt with her?”
“Both,” Buggy said, hiding behind a barrel. “Probably at the same time. He’s going to punch Roger with one fist and propose with the other.”
Roger braced his foot on the helm. “HEY, MONKEY!”
From the Marine ship: “ROGER, YOU BASTARD!”
“WHAT IS IT THIS TIME?” Roger shouted. “YOU WANT MY HEAD OR MY SISTER’S HAND?”
“I’LL TAKE BOTH!” Garp roared back, fist cocked and sparkling with Haki. “AND I HAVEN’T DECIDED WHICH ORDER!”
You leaned into the shouting as if it were dinner theater. “Sweet of him to ask, though.”
Roger turned and glared. “Do you like this?”
“I like men stupid.” You grinned. “It’s the only way I get flowers."
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