CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
NON CON - BAD END - BAD BAD END - THIS IS YOUR WARNING THAT THIS IS THE BAD END.
You go past this point knowing this.
Chapter 9: Bad Ending: Say It
AUTHOR CHOSE NOT TO USE ARCHIVE WARNINGS
When you look at him, itâs not a man or an Alpha that looms over you. Itâs a monster. A beast. His eyes are slits and his teeth are long and sharp. The smile that splits his face, peels it in half and his claws are going to tear you apart.
The knot at the base of his cock is far too big. Itâs going to split you in half like the terrifying smile that drips from his face. Youâll die if he forces that thing inside of you.
âNuh⌠no,â you whimper the word, pushing against him. âNo, no!â You find your voice trying to wriggle away. âPlease, no, I⌠I canât take it, I canât!â
You can feel the anger - the hurt - rolling off his scent and curling around you. Sobbing you still beneath him, heâs going to kill you for denying him, you just know it. But you canât take it. Heâs a monster and youâre just a small bird.
Heâs going to crush you someday, even if itâs not right now, and the thought terrifies you.
âYou can,â he snarls, hips snapping heavily into your pussy. The force of the knot is like a whip, the excessive wetness making each snap sting against your skin. âSay it.â
Shaking your head you push at his chest.
âSAY IT.â His voice is heavy with command, and you can feel it pulling you, but youâve been fighting against the compulsion of your existence most of your life.
You press your lips together so tightly you can taste copper in your mouth from blood. He grabs one of your nipples and twists it harshly, you cry out but the only sound that passes your lips is a wretchedly wailed, âNooo!â
His hand is at your throat, holding you down as he growls. Itâs a heavy growl, clawing at your skin in his anger and frustration. You canât stop the heavy tears that roll down your cheeks, so certain you were that he was going to just crush your throat.
Instead he pulls out of you, rutting his heavy shaft against your clit. His knees are set wide and pressed into your thighs, pinning you immovably beneath him.
He forces your body to cum again.
And again.
And again.
Thereâs no pause between, no kindness in the actions. The forced orgasms rip through your body and flood you with a pleasure you didnât know how to fight. More than the heat it scrambles your mind and you canât stop them from happening. Even as the weight of his knees bruises the inside of your thighs, even as you hurt your fingers clawing at his arm, nothing is pain enough to stop the next rush of pleasure.
âStop,â you gasp, choking on a voice hoarse from crying out in orgasm ripped from your bones. âPlease, stop.â
âSay it.â He whispers the words in your ear, very slowly rubbing his shaft against your clit, almost teasingly.
Almost lovingly.
âI⌠I can take it.â You sob the words, but the knot is suddenly far less intimidating than any other option. âI-I can take it, so please, please, fill⌠fill me up.â
His tip presses into you again, his hand forcing you to look into his eyes as he sinks in deeper, and deeper. So slowly. So damnably and carefully in control.
The beastly eyes are cruel and focused, watching every flinch and twitch on your face. His growl is threatening when you dare to look away, and so you keep your eyes on his as the knot presses against your entrance.
He presses in slowly. The pressure of the knot unrelenting against your vagina.
âGods, oh gods,â you gasp, eyes wide in fear.
âSay it,â he purrs, but even his purr is gritty and threatening.
âTa-take it, I ca-can take it, so⌠pleaseâŚâ You close your eyes sobbing tears, and he doesnât growl. âPlease give it to me.â
Thereâs a quiet moment. He doesnât push in heavier, and once your tears calm, he gives you a moment to wipe them away. You look into his eyes and can feel a small sliver of approval. His thumb presses past your lips, pushing your tongue down beneath it and forcing your mouth open.
He continues his early steady pressure, and you can feel your body screaming to accommodate the incoming knot. You whine against his thumb, fear making you tighten up. He doesnât stop, doesnât tell you to relax.
The kindness is gone. Itâs just the crocodile now. There is no Alpha or man.
Your body gives in and he sinks the whole knot in with a wet sound. The intense stretch forces a scream out of your open mouth, fingers clawing at him, hips bucking against legs that canât go anywhere. He doesnât give you time to adjust or come to terms with the vulgar pleasure, grinding into your clit and bullying the knot inside you.
The first orgasm feels like itâs going to break your bones and the only relief your body gives you is the knowledge that heâs filling you up. Cumming deep inside your cunt. He moves his thumb away and captures your lips, shoving his tongue down your throat before you close your mouth.
The action keeps you pinned as he rails into you. He chokes you on his tongue, barely giving you time to breathe. He lets your legs free, but with his knots buried deep inside you, youâre not going anywhere anyway. You kick and flail until an orgasm pulls your muscles taut. Until his orgasm causes your body to relax even if you donât want it to.
For hours he fucks you this way. Leaving you just enough air you donât pass out, being sure to slow when your senses begin to addle, giving you only the briefest of breaks before continuing with his harsh pace again. Slick, snot, tears, drool, cum, and blood stain his coat. Even with all the extra lubrication from your heat, he still fucks you harshly enough that it rubs you raw.
When youâre sobbing so hard that you start choking on his tongue, he turns you over, pressing your stained face into the collar of his coat, and forcing his knot back into you from behind.
By the end of it you think you were better off dealing with your heats all by yourself. Every inch of you hurts. Youâre filled with cum inside and out. Your body is dappled in bruises and teeth marks from his rough treatment and the hot tip of his cock is currently teasing against your ass.
You canât beg him not to go there. You canât say anything. Your voice is a worthless croaking noise and even if you could talk, you were too exhausted.
âI think weâll televise your heats from now on.â He says, voice dry and full of business even as his disheveled hair sticks to his body from the sweat and exertion of the last few hours. âCharge admission and fill this big top with paying customers.â
His hand grips your ass cheek and he pushes it aside, making your anus gape. He prods the tip into the opening with more weight behind it than before.
âI imagine the footage of your first birth will fund the guild for years.â He says the words almost proudly. âIf youâre too unruly, well, your public execution would be a lucrative spectacle as well.â
He presses in, stretching your ass and sinking in. Heâs covered in your slick, but he didnât work any of it into your ass, or bother stretching you out beforehand. The stretch aches, and then it burns. Thereâs no time to adjust, and by the time that awful fucking knot is pressing against your entrance your ass feels like itâs on fire.
Slowly and lazily he fucks your ass, idly slapping your cheeks as if to fill the silence with some other sound.
âFinally, so obedient.â He purrs the words, and begins to speed up. âIâm not going to break you. Not yet.â His thrusts take on a familiar pace and he pulls back so just his tip is in your ass, pumping cum into your aching insides before sinking into you again.
The cum burns against damage he did initially, but it provides some lubrication. He shoves his fingers into your cunt, bending and twisting awkwardly inside you to do it. You shiver, but your whine is no more than a gurgled sound.
Rubbing it around his knot he pushes against your ass.
âSay it.â He says. âI know youâre limited right now, but look at me, and say it.â
You mouth the words, trying to give them sound, but none comes out. âI want your knot.â You know he knows what youâve said, even as you pull his coat - the only thing you can reach - into your chest, holding onto it as he forces his knot into your ass.
You sob silently into the coat as he pleasures himself with your body. You wish he wouldâve just ended you during your heat. Choking the life out of you and being done with it.
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 8: Good End: Never Again
When you look at him, itâs not a man or an Alpha that looms over you. Itâs a monster. A beast. His eyes are slits and his teeth are long and sharp. The smile threatens to split his face, and sharp claws loom over you protectively. Thereâs a cruelty there, and a perversion, something that defies the natural order.
There is nothing for you to fear, however, when that very beast is protecting you.
âPlease⌠I can take it.â You gasp, rolling your hips against his knot and letting your needy words roll off your lips in a relaxed moan. âI⌠I want you, please.â The words leave you shyly, which feels odd considering the situation, but itâs a declaration beyond the simple physical need of it.
The beast peels back and the man smiles at you. âThatâs my girl.â He purrs, hooking your legs with his arms and pushing them back, positioning you so that it would be as easy as possible for you to take his knot. Leaning over you, he turns his head and catches your gaze.
âKeep your eyes on me,â he requests. You look back into his eyes.
The deep golden amber of his eyes feels warm and inviting. The slits of his pupils are barely noticeable his eyes are blown so wide. You might be imagining it, to think his skin was flushed, but even if it was a trick of the soft light in the tent, you didnât care.
You drape your arms around his neck as he leans closer, pressing his forehead gently against yours.
âBreathe,â he says, and you breathe in with him, and then out.
When you breathe out he pushes the knot in. The stretch is intense, but as relaxed as you are it goes in almost easily. A dull ache gives way to a powerful pleasure, and he stills, buried fully inside you.
âPlease,â you gasp, squirming as your body adjusts to the intrusion. âS-Sir, shit, Crocodile, oh gods, it feels - hnnnngh!â He presses in just a little, his body grinding into your clit as he sinks just a little deeper. âGood! So good!â Youâre nearly screaming into his face, but thereâs nothing in his expression or scent that leaves you thinking he cares.
âLet me kiss you,â he says softly, and you nod, tears slipping down your cheeks at the rush of emotions on top of the physical pleasure.
âPlease,â your voice is tiny as you beg him softly. âPlease kiss me⌠claim-.â
You donât get to finish your words as his lips press against yours. The kiss is heavy, passionate, almost desperate. His hips grind against you, sweetness flooding up from your thighs and meeting the soft pleasure of his kiss. Your lips part as the hallowed desperation of it all has you whining, and his tongue slips past your teeth.
You feel full beyond measure, and his gentle actions are overwhelming you in a new way. When he leans back your tongue follows, hanging out past your lips, needy to have him back inside your mouth. Licking your tongue, he kisses your lips before beginning to really move inside you.
A few heavy breaths and he cums deep inside you. The flood of his seed, the hot warmth relaxes your body a little and the euphoria of being filled with his seed during your heat is indescribable. Itâs better than an orgasm. Thereâs no violence from your body, muscles tensing and contracting when pleasure overwhelms you. This is nothing but pure satisfaction and you could drown in it happily.
âStay with me,â he purrs, moving slowly and carefully, being sure to keeps his knot inside you so that he wouldnât have to force it back in again. âItâs not done yet.â
You nod, the satisfaction of earlier sliding into the physical pleasure of another building orgasm. Your body would need more from him before it could calm down entirely, but if this was the true beauty of your heat you could endure it for hours.
For days if needed.
He holds you close, tucking your body between him and his coat. Kissing your lips, licking your neck, caressing your body with his hand, keeping himself steady with his left arm. Thereâs no one else but you in the tent, and youâre okay with it. Thereâs no panic in your mind, nothing alarming telling you that you need anything else but this.
Anything else but him.
âPlease,â you gasp, feeling him twitch inside you again. He snaps his hips a few times and fills you up a second time, causing you to throw your head back, and moan as the satisfying pleasure mingles with your impending physical orgasm, and you cum so softly youâre not even sure it qualified as an orgasm.
But the pleasure soaked your bones and soothed your muscles, and you felt ready for more.
For two days the big top tent was all yours.
Disembodied hands pushed carts of food and water to the mattress and Crocodile fed you, helped you drink, and even used clean towels to wipe sweat and slick from your bodies before it dried and became uncomfortable. He left the cloths in the nest, however, since the scent was precious for you both.
âHopefully next time we can do all this in⌠a room.â He says after a short pause.
âYou mean your room.â You muse melodically.
He looks down at you, that golden gaze making you hold your breath. âI think itâs valid to say itâs our room.â
You feel yourself flush down to your shoulders. âYou⌠you never let me choose my own.â You huff, snatching the water out of his hands and drinking it yourself.
âThen, after this.â He takes the cup from you, removing your hiding space, and tilting your face to his gaze. âYou can choose which room youâd like.â He offers, eyes taking in every piece of you. âThere are several empty rooms available, little miss Starling.â
Your gaze shifts away, even though your face doesnât. âI⌠I rather like the one Iâm in now.â You manage to say, swallowing thickly.
âMm.â He hums dryly.
âThere is, however, this brute,â you continue, eyes shifting back to his. âWho doesnât let me dress up, and who doesnât⌠doesnât go on walks with me.â
âDoes the sweet little Starling want the pleasure of my company in the gardens?â His voice is soft, but also dripping with amusement.
âI want the pleasure of your company, yes.â You admit despite the painful heat in your cheeks and ears. âCrocodileâŚâ
âCall me Suwani.â He says gently.
Your lips curl into a smile at the soft pink you know you can see along his cheeks. âNot Sunawani?â
âToo many syllables.â He purrs, leaning in close and brushing his lips against yours. âI want you to sing my name properly, little darling.â
A shivered gasp slips your lips at the phrase, and the implication. Your hands cup his face and eliminate the meager distance between you, and you kiss him desperately. The need is too much as you can feel the last scraps of your heat coiling in you.
âBite me,â you gasp, squirming against him as he lays you down onto his coat again. âPlease.â
His eyes are sharp slits and you know heâs intently focused on you and your words. You understand the request for clarification, and turn your head aside, exposing your delicate skin.
âClaim me.â You plead.
âI will.â He promises you, pressing kisses against your knuckles, down your arm and into your shoulders. âNext time.â He clarifies and you whine as his kisses slip down to your chest. âLive with me properly for a month first.â
He kisses your nipple and you squirm beneath him. Itâs a gentle action, but youâre a mess of emotions and physical pleasure. He spreads your legs, tilting one back as he works the tip of his tongue against your clit carefully.
âAh-again,â you gasp and he nods, shifting until heâs pulled you to his hips, your squirming body twisting below him. You hook your hands under your knees, holding your legs open for him. âIf - if you wonât claim me⌠then⌠name me, please.â You know itâs cruel to ask such a thing right now in the midst of all the emotions and desires.
âDonât call me Starling anymore, Suwani, please.â You plead, looking up at him, eyes wet.
His expression softens and he smiles, a kind and genuine expression that youâd never seen on his face before.
âNo one will ever call you that again,â he promises, pushing into you and relishing the pleasure of your cries and the needy shivering of your body. âIâll give you a proper name, little desert flower, but right now you only need to focus on singing my name.â
âYes, yes, I will, I will,â you gasp as his thumb rolls against your twitching clit. He leans forward as you struggle to hold your legs, setting your heels against his abs. The slow steady strokes mix with the teasing of your clit, and when the orgasm washes over you he pushes his knot in, using the fluttering of your cunt and the rush of slick to make the intrusion easier.
ââWANI!â You cry, the first syllable devoured by the orgasm.
âThere you go,â he hums, leaning down and pressing your legs back, pinning you beneath his body again. âCum all you need. Iâll fill you up until your heat subsides.â He assures you.
By the time heâs done and your heat has passed, heâs carrying you, wrapped in his coat, back to the castle. Back into his room. Cleaning you carefully, he tends to the small wounds you endured during the long heat, soothing the aches of your bruises, and salving the raw spots on your skin.
One youâre clean and tended to, he does one single piece of paperwork before joining you in his bed, curled protectively around your naked body. Both of you are spent, you more than him, and it is one dangerous beast that watches over you while you rest.
But during the comfortable slumber the decree of Sir Crocodile is sent out to the rest of the island by Daz Bones. The only person allowed unannounced into his office to have found it in the first place.
As of today, anyone referring to
Altheia
As either Starling or Omega will be immediately executed.
There will be no more songs or shows.
One line a little further down was omitted by Daz as he spread this new information through the island. It was something many would misunderstand as simple greed, or unhinged possessiveness. But Daz Bonez knew better.
Useless things fell through his fingers like grains of sand, and useful things stayed between his teeth never to escape. Once between his teeth there was no escape. It was just that simple.
To say anything more was to admit a vulnerability, and as such the line was only meant for Daz.
The âgodsâ cannot have her, sheâs mine.
Yours was now the only life he would protect over Crocodileâs.
A/N - Altheia is derived from Proboscidea althaeifolia - aka Devilâs Claw - a desert flower
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 7: Heated
Itâs wrong.
Itâs wrong, itâs all wrong and you donât know why itâs wrong.
Youâre pacing around in Crocodileâs office. Heâs not in the office, you kicked him out over an hour ago. But thereâs nothing in here thatâs giving you what you need. The linens are clean, the pillows are comfortable, thereâs clothes that smell like him that are divine, but itâs wrong. Itâs all wrong and you arenât sure why, you only know that itâs wrong.
You just know that it is.
The guards havenât come for you. No oneâs painted your body. You never wanted these things before, but now that the things were gone you were re-learning a ritual you never had control over. You couldnât hear your instincts over the heavy chains and cold faces.
But there was no more structure. Just you.
You and a small voice desperately trying to be heard. A whisper at the back of your skull that was trying to get your attention and help you.
Your skin was hot. Prickly. It wasnât going to be long and the pain would settle into your lower stomach. The scent would stick to the paint - no, the paint wasnât there. Rubbing your arms you try to calm yourself. You donât know what to do.
You donât know whatâs wrong, just that it is wrong.
You will yourself to stop knowing that itâs wrong and go through the things. The room, the linens, the clothes.
The clothes tick green in your brain and so you scoop them up into your arms. Nothing else clicks so you decide to leave the room and the linens. Opening the door you knock the heavy wood into Crocodile. He looks at you, but doesnât stop you.
âItâs⌠wrong. Itâs wrong and I need to go find where is right.â You explain. You donât have to explain, but you want to explain, and your explanation isnât a debate. Youâre already walking down the hall as youâre talking. There isnât enough time to explain more, and you need to find the right place.
You power walk through the castle, but even after just a few moments you know that the castle is wrong. The location isnât the issue, or it is, or it isnât, or maybe itâs something else, or-.
You shake your head again and stomp right out of the castle. Thereâs a flurry of sand and action around you, but it doesnât interfere or stop you. Itâs just nearby and around you. You can hear voices, people are shouting, but most of the people around you are scrambling to get out of your way.
One of the tents catches your eye, and while you donât like them - gaudy, flimsy looking things - you donât want to second guess your instincts right now. So you head toward the tent. More shouting you donât care about and several people run ahead of you.
Something in you swells in anger. How dare they stop you from going where you need to! Youâre the Starling and theyâre just lowly betas!
You open your mouth to say as much when the scruffy looking men pull the flaps of the tent back for you, giving you plenty of space to enter. Your muscles relax, the anger in your face clears and you almost run inside when you realize that theyâre not hindering you at all.
Itâs wide and open and your mind thrills at the look of it. The ground is dirty, well, rather itâs made of dirt, stamped down by the feet of a thousand pirates and probably a few beasts of burden tasked to entertain them. People scramble in from the side and set a large, fragrantly clean, mattress in the center of the spacious middle ringed area. More men open a sack and deposit clean sheets and pillows onto the newly set mattress.
Everything clicks.
Crocodileâs POV
When you burst from the door his stomach sank. The clothes in your arms made the impending concern less, but it didnât clear it entirely.
You had rejected the room.
His room.
Anger flushed into his muscles, but the way you spoke placated him. It was frenzied, desperate, and on the edges of fear. You werenât making a decision on your own, something was compelling you. More than the heat, and maybe even more than your own instincts.
Youâd had years of monthly heats at the hands of the Celestial Dragons, and there were several factors you didnât have control over. You had been conditioned, and the short time youâd spent getting comfortable in his room hadnât been enough to undo years of work.
It pissed him off, but it wasnât your fault.
âGet the tents ready.â He says to Daz, the two of them stalking off after you. âAll hands. No one interferes with her. Clean mattresses, unscented sheets. Every large tent. Sheâs going to want to find the largest open area thatâs still sheltered.â
âSir.â Daz clips the already short word and runs off.
Before youâve even given up on checking rooms, Crocodile can hear the tumult outside. Hands are scrubbed, gloves are donned, and the barely useful mass of pirates moves with acceptable efficiency.
They stay ahead of you, but you havenât set down the heavy load of Crocodileâs clothes, so even at your fastest, you can really only walk briskly.
He holds onto that fact as his fears become more and more likely.
You were always watched, but in matters of intimacy you werenât a fan. Not against it, not enough for you to try and beg him to stop teasing you, but your hesitancy was there. He tested it harshly the first time, having you ride his fingers when the messenger came in, but heâd only been prodding at the edges of it since.
Until the other day, when the signs of your heat began and he couldnât stop himself from wanting more and more of you. Daz was invaluable, having turned everyone away when it became obvious that Crocodile was done dealing with anyone else but you, but if people had come inâŚ
He wouldâve killed them.
His sand disperses when he gets outside and coalesces when he finds Buggy, grabbing the startled clown roughly and speaking sharply.
âI need 100 men you. Do. Not. Like.â He growls the words, and the way the clown pales is reassuring. Heâs paying attention. âTheyâll go into the main tent. They will stand in a circle. When the Starling looks at me they will close their eyes. If theyâre smart enough to slowly exit while I take whatâs mine they will keep their lives.
âIf you donât tell them, or theyâre fools, I will devour them.â
Releasing his grip Buggy gives him a sloppy salute and runs off. Whether the clown gives them all the instructions or not, doesnât matter. He hopes that he doesnât. He wants to slaughter every bastard who has the audacity to be in your presence right now, but he already knows what you need.
Forming at the edges of the main tent heâs relieved to see the clean mattress and linens being put to use with his clothes. They could be cleaned, but the idea of you just dropping them on the dirt floor irritated him on some level. They were going to be completely soaked before your heat was over, but that didnât bother him at all.
He watches you set up your nest for the next few minutes until a group of, roughly, 100 men gathers behind him. He reiterates the most important part of the situation.
âOnce her attention is on me, you will close your eyes.â He growls. âI do not want to distress her, but your punishment will be severe if you disobey this.â
There were several dumbly nodded heads and he makes a mental note to be sure that you werenât conscious by the end of this, so he could clean the blood and bodies up without you having to see them.
A tug on the back of his coat turns his attention toward you. Facing the tent almost breaks him. Your scent swirls in the heavy canopy stronger than heâs ever smelled before. Itâs powerful and unrelenting, and you look small. Incredibly small. Almost child-like.
A small light connected to an enormous demon. An angler-fish of pheromones dangling you in front of him like a light.
For the first time in his life he feels like prey.
âYour coat,â you say softly, tentatively. Your nest is nearly done, the pleasure is beginning to overwhelm the driving need that moved you earlier. âPlease, Alpha.â
The word slices through the odd sensation of earlier and he growls.
âSir. Crocodile.â He corrects, his tone speaking for him.
âS-Sir Crocodile,â you correct. âPlease.â
He takes off the coat, nearly burying you beneath it, and you move back to your nest.
Your POV
The relief you felt when he handed over his coat was only matched by the warmth you felt when you put it around your shoulders. Kneeling in the middle of your nest, sitting on your knees as you always had, you pull it tight around you. Itâs a massive coat, you could almost use it as the entirety of your nest.
Thereâs no cage, but thereâs a circle of people around you. You donât even have to open your eyes, you can feel them, and their presence is enough to help ease the drive at the back of your neck.
More than the men you know are watching you, you can smell the one you need.
Pain coils in your stomach, and the fever that had been clawing at your skin consumes you. Sweat shivers against your skin, and you can feel the beginnings of your heat settle in properly. Slick flooding your folds so quickly that it drips onto your calves.
âAh-Hnnngh, sir,â you gasp, reaching out to him as the painful pleasure begins to bite between your thighs. âCrocodile huh-help me.â
Looking up at him you almost flinch. His scent is whipping around him like a torrent of hot sand. The eyes focused on you are bright, reflecting more light than exists within the large tent. You can almost see the thick reptilian tail trailing behind him, heavy with his desire and need.
He pulls the cigar from his mouth, leaving it to flutter away as sand. His hook drops onto the dirt floor with a heavy thud and most of the men flinch. His body shifts into sand, leaving his clothes to drop onto the floor. The fine control of his devil fruit might not be something you can grasp right now, but itâs not lost on you entirely.
Rough skin cradles you, his left arm steadying you as he leans you back, laying you out beneath him. Hot and shivering on his coat, surrounded by his clothes, basking in his scent. His cock is hard, throbbing, and massive. Itâs far too big, but itâs fit inside you before, and you spread your legs open for him, arms reaching out to him until your fingers finds his skin.
âPlease, sir,â you whine, pulling your eyes from the leaking tip, from the bulbous knot at the base, easily twice as thick as the rest of him, and focusing on his eyes. âCrocodile, please.â
Youâre as scared as you are desperate, needy and trusting. Heatâs are easier to endure with help, and you can only hope that heâll actually help you.
And not just devour you whole.
Crocodileâs POV
The turmoil was as external as it was internal. He was barely holding onto his senses at the sight of you.
The sound of you.
The SMELL of you.
He wasnât successful because he was an Alpha, he was successful because he was who he was. He wasnât powerful because of his secondary sex, he was powerful because he was who he was. He wasnât a mindless beast, brought to heel by the delectable lure of a force of nature.
He was above it.
Two of his fingers slide inside you so easily he nearly groans. The fluttering of your pussy against his fingers, and the way your fingers flex against his arms is enough to give any man delirium. Prepping you is not a concern, and he hadnât expected it to be, but he wasnât going to just hilt inside you without being sure first.
One last warning growl rolls off his shoulders, and he presses the tip of his cock against your gushing entrance.
The need in your body is so great that you roll your hips into him once heâs lined up, shifting down until the bulge of a knot at the base stops you. The sweet sound that escapes you is almost orgasmic, and it takes everything he has not to just fold you in half and pound you until your body breaks beneath him.
Each movement nearly sends you over the edge. Your song is barely started and its already incomparable to what you sang for the dragons. The wet, heavy moans that spill from your lips are like honey spilling over the edges of a cup, and he could easily lean down and lick the sweet sounds from the air.
Instead he leans down and licks the sweat from your skin, reveling in the ways you cling to him. Your smell makes him want to drag his teeth against your flesh. To sink his bite into you while youâre screaming in ecstasy and pain.
He laps at your stiff nipple and you clench around him, fingernails digging into his skin as your sweet song takes on a new note. Swirling his tongue around your nipple he takes it into his mouth, suckling almost gently as you cum against his cock.
The sound of your orgasm is mixed on the edges with pain, maybe fear, the rush probably a little overwhelming, but he doesnât stop. He keeps his barely in control pace, releasing your tit from his mouth and seeing your wet eyes begging him to continue.
Your POV
The first orgasm almost felt like the beginning of your usual heats. Harsh, and almost painful, but the pleasure was undeniable. The sparks that dance across your vision arenât from pain, and the aftermath soaks into your muscles.
âMore,â you gasp, clinging onto him like a life raft in a storm. âMore, please!â You beg, crying out as he begins to move faster, the thick knot at the base of his shaft slamming into your labia with a wet smack.
The head of his cock is finding the best spots inside you, every time, or maybe everything inside you is the best spot right now. Your legs twitch and your toes curl as a second orgasm begins to build. You know, you know your own orgasms wonât spare you from the heat, you need his, but the pleasure is too much for you to hope to fight against it.
He wants to hear you sing, and so youâre going to sing until heâs had his fill. Until he decides to finish, whether youâre hoarse from it or not.
Pleasure cracks through your bones like ice, melting against the heat in your muscles, but thereâs no pain this time. Just pleasure. The kind that throws your head back and has you baying like an animal, the pleasure too much for your usual song. Thereâs no elegance in the sound, no pleasing song, youâve lost control of the sound being forced from you, as cum against him again.
âWhat a sweet song,â he purrs, licking up the other side of your chest, sucking your nipple harshly into his mouth, massaging the stiff flesh with his lips and forcing a third orgasm on the heels of the second.
Thereâs no noise for you to make as your body goes rock hard. Every part of you tightens and you gush so hard you can hear your slick forced out around his cock. His teeth graze your nipple in the throes of your pleasure and you finally suck in a breath, screaming in fear and a small bit of pain as the stimulation is a step more than you could handle.
But you donât want him to stop. You need more. Even if he bites pieces of you off, you need more.
âMore,â you gasp, clinging onto him, âmore please - fuck⌠fuck me. Alph-Sir! Sir! Crocodile!â You force yourself to say the right words and feel him purr again. âPlease, please, give it⌠give it to me, please!â
âIf I cum,â he murmurs against your skin. âThe knotâs going in.â Itâs not a warning, not really. Itâs an inevitability since this started. Itâs a reminder, maybe.
You can feel the teeth around you. Not the ones between his lips. Not the teeth of bone that nip at your skin as he takes you, but larger teeth. Ones made of sand and scent. Of dominance and promises. Teeth that want to sink into you and never let go.
Itâs a request for your acceptance.
A request for you to give yourself entirely to him. Of your own will. It was a cruel thing to offer in the middle of your heat, when your mind was addled and your senses were more instinct than not. But you were unique.
You had conquered your heat. You had managed to stay still, through the hours of torment while others looked on. You had spent years holding onto yourself in desperation and fear, while people who would not help watched on dispassionately. You did not disappear beneath the instinct of your heat, you did not lose yourself to delicious pleasure or the terrible pain.
Crocodile was an Alpha determined to prove his worth and capacity beyond the designation the world forced upon him. You were an omega who survived even though the world had denied you the natural course of your designation. More than survived, you had triumphed. Even as you shivered and begged beneath him, it didnât lessen the impressive feat of your survival.
Because of that you knew. You knew what he was offering you in those words.
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 6: Not Quite
Your legs are parted wide, rough hands keeping them parted even as your hands paw at the mass of black hair between your thighs. You donât have the strength to deny him, and certainly not the power to stop him, and so he drinks freely. Lapping, licking and plunging his thick tongue deep inside you, enticing your body to sate his endless thirst just a little more.
Each precious drop is a rumbled hum of approval and when you couldnât be brought to orgasm fast enough he split you open with a thick finger, curling it inside your small body and sucking on your clit until your pleasure dripped down his arm.
Heâd stop long enough to lick the sweet nectar from his forearm, harsh and focused eyes on your weak and exhausted form.
But no matter how much you came, he didnât stop, mouth between your folds again. Fingers pressing into the tender meat of your thighs, teeth pressing angry marks into your skin. He was going to eat you, one of these times, you were certain his teeth would be too sharp. His hunger too desperate, and his appetite too insatiable and he could bite clean through-
You suck in a breath, legs and arms flailing, smacking into the mountainous form beside you.
Crocodileâs eyes are on you. Sleepy, but focused, he settles beside you after being sure you didnât injure yourself flailing next to him. You are covered in sweat and slick, you can feel the thick liquid squish between your thighs.
âI donât know if you had a nightmare or a wet dream,â his voice is soft, but his tone is aggravated. Youâre certain he doesnât like not knowing, and unfortunately you canât clear things up for him. âGet cleaned up. Put what I taught you to use.â
âY-yes sir.â You nod. You were too drowsy and too disoriented from the powerfully real - whatever it was - to offer up much else. Sweat and slick at least were easier to clean off than paint, so if you didnât do a perfect job it wouldnât matter.
You took enough time to wash your hair along with everything else, and put on the pajamas that the tailor had made for you. They were styled after the shirts youâd been borrowing from Crocodile, loose and silky, but a little more properly proportioned to your size. You werenât sure why they needed to button down the front like his shirts did, but you didnât argue.
It was free clothes, and they were your clothes.
Theyâd been skillfully made, and fit wonderfully, but aside from trying them on when they arrived, you hadnât worn them since. You didnât have anywhere to go, and there was no sense in getting dressed just to stay in the office room with Crocodile.
You havenât been told you canât wander the castle, but every morning you have breakfast, and then he has you sit in his lap while he works. You know the cage for what it is, but itâs still warmer, and more kind, than anything you knew before.
You werenât paraded around the tents, surrounded by guards and attendants, a piece of art to ogled by everything with a pair of eyes. You werenât covered in paints and forbidden from warmth, wearing thin, barely there clothing even when the winds blew. You were at a different extreme, perhaps, but it wasnât bad.
What else would you do anyway?
Ask Crocodile, a pirate, for money so you, a priceless omega - a rare jewel even if you werenât the Starling - could bandy about the Grandline hither and fro? You had no skill at either a trade or hobby. You had no way to find, or purchase, suppressants in some vain, and dangerous attempt to hide what you were.
It was a wonder he hadnât bit you the day you were brought before him.
Instead he treated you more humanely than anyone else had. Maybe not kindly, and certainly not as an equal, but his touch was pleasurable. His voice was soothing, and his scent was alluring.
Omegas were meant to cry in desperation beneath Alphas. Alphas protected them, and made their heats bearable, and omegas gave Alphas a point of focus. Something to care for and protect, so that their desires didnât drive them to folly.
Or maybe they were only driven to madness because of omegas.
You climb into Crocodileâs lap without him beckoning you once youâre done with breakfast. You can feel the relief in his scent. Regardless of the hows and whys of it all, you were grateful he was an Alpha. You were grateful your instincts knew more than your mind, and that you were beginning to understand the subtle differences in his scent depending on his mood.
He could control his face, and to some extent his tone, though he seemed to mind both less when it was just the two of you. Maybe because on some level he knew he couldnât hide from you.
Maybe he didnât want to.
His hand cups your jaw firmly and you still in his lap. You feel a soft shift and gasp as something teases your skin beneath the shirt. It settles at your nipples, and you know it has to be him, but he releases your jaw and his hook is resting on the desk.
âWhatâŚ?â You sigh, the gentle caress making the flesh stiff.
âItâs just my sand.â He says evenly. âNo one else will know.â
You sigh softly the smooth sand dancing over your nipples and sending pleasure into your chest. It feels good, and you want to squirm, but youâve been sitting carefully before now. Sure you shifted and adjusted throughout the day, getting up sometimes to stretch, the action spurring Crocodile to take a break more than not.
And he did play with you, sometimes, but not like this. Not while he worked, and since the first time, it hadnât been while people were coming in and out.
But the people came in, and the sand did not relent.
It wasnât enough to bring you to the brink. It wasnât enough to force you to make noise. It wasnât enough that it was impossible to stay still.
It was enough that you couldnât look anyone in the eyes when they came in. It was enough that you probably looked like a small little pet in his lap, more than youâd looked the days before. It was enough that your slick was definitely staining the seat cushion.
âYour chair,â you whisper as the most recent intruder into the room leaves.
âItâs fine.â He assures you.
âI⌠IâŚâ You arenât sure what you want to say, so distracting is the constant and unending pleasure against your chest. Never enough pressure to hurt you, and itâs not rubbing you raw despite the hours that have gone by.
âYou were so distressed this morning, I wanted to be sure your pleasure was comfortable today.â He explains, tilting your head back until you were bent back and squirming beneath his gaze. âYou donât smell distressed.â
You shake your head as best you can in this position. âNot distressed.â You gasp, your thighs pressed together, rubbing back and forth.
âIf you want relief, you can ask for it.â He sounds so bored, his tone, his eyes, but his scent is curled around your throat like a set of teeth.
âPlease.â You whine and you feel everything shift. The soft shuffle of sand moves your legs until youâre straddling his lap, your back to his chest, and his tip presses into your leaking cunt. The swirling sands lower you onto his cock, his fingers in your mouth, letting you drool and whine against them as the simple act of penetration has your eyes rolled back in a subtle orgasm.
The chair scoots a little closer to the desk, pinning you between it and him. He reaches between your legs, teasing your pulsing clit with a single finger, making you shiver and tremble against him. Holding onto his arm you ride him as best you can in your position, the wet wriggling motion of your hips was nothing compared to the way you twitched and gripped him internally.
It was enough for you to cum harder, however, tucking your face against his upper arm and crying your pleasure into his sleeve.
âGood girl.â He hums softly, letting you suckle the tip of his finger. âStay still. There will be more people, but as long as you donât cum, they wonât know.â He lies so sweetly youâre willing to believe it. It was obvious what your position was right now, even with the desk obscuring the truth of it.
Your skin was flushed, and you couldnât calm down that much. You had been in his lap for days before now, but this was the first time people would see you trapped so. You might not be up on his desk, riding his fingers with nothing more than the size of his shirt concealing your body, but none of his people were fools.
The clown maybe, but even he had uses enough that Crocodile kept him around.
Crocodile did not keep useless things.
Stuck between him and the desk, his throbbing cock sunk deep into your sensitive pussy, there was no place for you to hide from those that came in. They might not be able to see him speared inside you, but you couldnât hide your face behind anything in this position. He helped you tuck against his chest, his hook arm pressed across your shoulders so he could easily work around you.
Everyone who came in knew.
As embarrassing as it was, no one dared to say anything, and most didnât even dare to meet your gaze once they understood the situation.
Everyone was exceptionally efficient that day.
Once he was certain there was time enough before the next person, heâd tease your clit and have you cumming against his thick cock. The sands teasing your chest never stopped, no matter what, but he didnât finger your throbbing clit unless the office was empty.
If you came, it was for him, and him alone.
By four oâclock, no one was coming into the office at all. Word had gotten around, or people could smell the thick scent of pleasure even if they were only betas, and no one was willing to risk stepping inside. But you had your hands on the desk, one of your legs carefully looped inside his hook, your right thigh in his hand.
He moved you like a toy. His hips hardly moved and he made you ride him, the sand still teasing you even as you sobbed from overwhelming pleasure. Everything from shivering little pleasures that barely felt like orgasms, to toe-curling delights that had you moaning like a whore between his arms, you felt them all through the course of the day.
No matter how hard or how gently you came, he could keep the same steady pace. Occasionally licking heavy strips against your neck and shoulders. He inhaled full huffs of your scent, alternating between growling and purring, seemingly edging himself as he forced pleasure from every inch of you.
The soft chime of the clock indicates the end of the day, and he presses you against his chest, large hand easily splayed out over your torso. He scoops both of your legs into the crook of his hook arm, nearly folding you in half before thrusting up into you.
Soaked in sweat, slick staining his pants, the chair, and pooling on the floor, youâre relaxed only because youâre too exhausted to be anything else. He pushes a moan from your dripping lips with every thrust, thick tears falling down your cheeks and you babble pleasure, hands pawing at every piece of him you could reach.
Your shivering limbs kick and curl as a pleasure you canât deny floods through you. Youâre almost sick from the exertion, the heat and euphoria of it pushing back the pain in your twitching limbs. Hot liquid fills you as Crocodileâs cock throbs against the sticky grip of your cunt.
You canât clean yourself up afterward. Your limbs are limp and your brain is in a thick fog. Youâre burning up, but the cool air of the office makes goosebumps rise along your skin. He cleans you up, so you assume, the deep melody of his voice is a soft tone, a praising song that soothes your heart as much as your aching muscles.
By the time dinner is brought to the office, youâre cradled in his arm, letting him feed you.
âYour heat will be soon.â He says, and an understanding dawns on you.
âYou⌠it effects you?â You feel like your question is answer itself, but he nods.
âMy⌠apologies.â He says gruffly, putting another bite to your lips. âI am not in the practice of denying myself that which I desire, and my attempt to soothe your nightmare did not go as I had planned.â
âWill this be your first time too?â You question carefully.
He nods, bringing the cup of water to your lips. âWhen the government started gathering up all the omegas they could, what was rare became even more so. Most Alphas never find an omega, and most omegas are never bonded, since the dragons shuffle even the lowliest of you around like borrowed pieces of jewelry.â
You go quiet and so still that he doesnât try to get you to eat more, simply staying still with you as the seconds ticked into minutes.
âYouâll,â you swallow thickly, nerves dancing against your spine. âClaim me, during my heat, wonât you?â
â⌠Do you want me to?â
Tears rush up your chest, choking your lungs. Your face twists and he pulls you close, rocking gently back and forth. âI donât know.â You sob softly.
He promises you nothing, neither removing your choice in the matter entirely, nor assuring you that heâll leave you to have one. Instead he just soothes you, letting you cry for all the reasons you need. Itâll be your first heat with an alpha. Itâll be your first heat that isnât attended by Celestial Dragons. Itâll be the first heat where your nest isnât provided to you, where your location isnât decided for you.
No one will bend the will of your instincts in the direction they want, and youâll be navigating everything on your own.
It was terrifying to a certain extent, but⌠with him by your side there was something that soothed you. An almost manic thought that seemed absurd, but it was powerfully grounding. It didnât matter how you thrashed against the inevitable, he would not let you escape, wouldnât let you be swept away.
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet) yeah we full blown yandere babes, dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 5: Endure
Crocodile talked you through what he was doing as he cleaned you. He ended up cleaning you twice, because the first time you were still out of it, but he didnât seem irritated by it. His voice was soft, and his touch was careful, and while he easily manhandled you, there was nothing left of the beast that had plunged his tongue into you earlier.
He dried you off after, and carefully brushed your hair.
A fresh shirt of his, and he helped you roll up the sleeves, pulling you into bed with him and sleeping beside you with a gentle, almost chaste manner. Nothing happens during the night, except one of the deepest, most satisfying rests of your life.
In the morning he hands you a small box after breakfast. You look at it a little oddly, but open it to find a black leather choker, with a simple golden clasp on the back, and a twist of gold on the front.
âItâs a collar.â He explains. âOne you can remove with a single hand. Youâre not required to wear it, but it will act as an effective warning to anyone on the island that you are my⌠guest.â
Taking it out of the box you put it around your neck, surprised at how well it fits, and how easily it clasps and unclasps. You leave it on with a smile and see a smirk pull at Crocodileâs lips. Heâs pleased, and you imagine thatâs as close to a genuine smile as youâll see on his face.
After breakfast, Crocodile was back to work. You didnât know what the island full of pirates did, but it apparently created a massive amount of paperwork. As far as youâd sorted the last couple of days, Crocodile dealt with expenses. Pages and pages of numbers and accounts, and it all blurred together no matter how often you tried to watch him work.
âYou can sit in my lap while I work.â He says evenly, eyes not even shifting over to you as you stand nearby watching him. âYouâre so small it wonât hinder me.â
He leans back, and opens his legs, patting the space on the chair between his legs. You arenât sure why you decide to accept the offer. You just know that the room smells nice, and he smells even better, and the space heâs offering to let you sit probably smells the best.
The leather of the chair is a smell that doesnât linger. Instead the sweet scent of old scotch, honey, and warm sand curls around you. The steady scratch of his pen along the paper, the faint whiffs of ink that lead your nose back to his smell, itâs all a little mesmerizing.
The even pace with which he works is probably from years of practice. Not so slow heâs easily distracted, not so fast heâs burned out before the day is done.
The only breaks in his work come from the people who come into the office space at seemingly random intervals. You didnât pay the much mind, the vulgar scents of harsh salty air and often unwashed pirate dissipated quickly. No one ever lingered long, giving their report and then leaving.
Sometimes a stern man who said nothing would come in and leave more paper, or take papers. He didnât smell vulgar, but he seemed to pay little attention to Crocodile and even less attention to you.
The scent, the steady thrum of work, the soft lighting of the room. It was relaxing. Terribly relaxing. Some part of you was concerned you were too relaxed, but a larger part of you was happy for it. Happy for the contact. You knew the concept of touch-starved, but since you had been allowed contact with your omega attendants, you hadnât considered it. You werenât devoid of physical contact.
But you had been denied a kind of it. The pleasure of physical intimacy and the relaxation that came with having that euphoric feeling flood your senses.
It was addicting.
Or at the very least, you werenât against feeling it again. Certainly not at Crocodileâs hands. Hand. His very large hand. Large, broad shoulders. Large tongue.
You canât help squirming a little at the idea, but you force yourself to stay still. You want to stay perched in this space for as long as you can, and if you make a fuss heâs likely to make you leave. Youâve only been around him two days, but heâs disdainful of idiocy and inefficiency, that much is obvious.
âWill you help me relax?â He hums, setting down the pen.
You nod, mind a little fuzzy from the scent of him. You wanted more of it, more of him. You needed it to be stronger, but you didnât know if saying so was rude.
âYou can tell me to stop whenever you want,â he explains, large hand cupping your breast. His finger brushes your nipple through the shirt and you gasp, shivering in his lap. âOr beg me for more.â
He rolls his finger over your sensitive flesh until your nipple is hard and you have a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds of your panting. You hadnât realized how sensitive you were, the warmth rolling through you was already maddening and heâs only just begun.
Rolling the small nub between to fingers he tugs a little, a slight smile forming on his lips when you gasp, biting your lip and moaning. Your body is trembling against his chest, and he wants little more than to pin you down and fuck you until you cry, but he wants you to beg for it.
Needs you to beg for him.
The whimper that falls from your lips causes him to reach over and play with your other nipple, his forearm brushing against the tingling right side as he teases your left with his fingers.
âThis⌠this relaxes you?â You question, the shivering pleasure skittering through your chest and heating your body.
âIt does.â He answers honestly.
âTo-touching me?â
He flicks his finger lightly over the tip of your nipple. âYes.â The cool metal of his hook rests on your thigh, sliding and pulling the hem of your shirt up with it. âEverything you do when I touch you like this relaxes me.â
âItâs⌠itâs not relaxing for m-me.â You admit. Youâre squirming and whining, but youâre not pushing him away or asking him to stop.
âItâs not?â He questions, knowing amusement in his voice as he twists your nipples, tweaking one then the other. âShould I stop?â
âNo! No, ah, no, it feels good⌠it does.â You cry. Heâs gone back to rubbing lazy light circles around each stiff peak, moving back and forth between them, never leaving one unattended long enough to soften and relax. Youâre worried youâre going to stain the chair, you can feel the mess pooling between your thighs at the attention.
But itâs not enough to bring you over the edge.
He leans down, lips close to your ear. âDo you want it to feel better?â
âBuh-better?â You need a minute to pull your thoughts together. âOrgasming, you mean, like last night?â You question, body rolling in his as his hook threatens to expose you at his desk.
âYou want me to make you cum, little flower?â He purrs and you feel the sound coil around your thighs and lick at your ears.
âYes! Yuh-yes please, please.â Nodding, you mewl as youâre shifted easily, turned around and sat up on his desk.
Hand and hook grab the top and rip it open, sending buttons flying. He leaves the shirt on you otherwise, your back to the door.
âPut your feet on my thighs, and your hands on the desk.â He instructs, helping you and guiding you as you move into the position he wants. Your face is flushed, and youâre panting with need. Itâs not a heat, but youâre so desperate for him to make you cum again that youâre not thinking clearly. Your ass is barely on the edge of his desk and you can see and feel sand moving up your stomach.
The small handfuls of sand brush your nipples, teasing your skin.
âHaaanngh!â You gasp. âRough, itâs⌠rough,â your breath falls down your lips as the gritty sensation sends thrills into your chest.
âPainful?â He questions and you shake your head as the sand rolls and shifts over your stiff nipples. âGood.â
His thumb rubs against your slit and you wonder if heâs going to put his lips down there again. Instead he rubs your clit once before pushing your labia apart and slowly working his middle finger inside of you. Itâs an easy intrusion, you were wet before he started teasing your breasts, and now youâre almost painfully needy.
The sweet stretch of his thick finger pushing inside you makes your hips buck. He moves with you so he doesnât go too deep too fast. Once his entire finger is inside you he presses his thumb against your clit and starts rubbing slow circles.
âHaa, haaa⌠thatâsâŚâ You gasp. Your hips seem to have a mind of their own, grinding into his thumb and riding his finger. Youâre pushing off the desk and bracing yourself against his legs, practically fucking yourself on his finger while he teases your clit and nipples.
Pleasure ripples through your muscles, curling around your lungs and leaking from your pussy so much you can hear the soft drops with each wet shift of your hips on his finger.
You donât care about the sounds. You donât care about his eyes on your body, but you do like that heâs watching you. Itâs the high youâre chasing, the one heâs letting you reach for. It felt so good yesterday, and you can feel it coiling through you again. Building. Tightening.
A knock at the door stutters your pace for a second, but one look from Crocodile has you continuing to move. Your lips are pressed together and youâre trying to be quiet.
âIf you stop, Iâll edge you until your next heat.â He warns softly. His eyes stay on you even as shame pricks tears at the corners of yours. You nod, lips still pressed tightly together.
âCome in.â He calls out and your body tenses for a second as the doors swing open.
âPlease,â you whine softly, still riding his finger. His eyes shift from your body to the figure beyond.
âDonât dawdle in the doorway.â He growls and you hear the footsteps approach.
âPlease, I-.â
âKeep doing what you are doing, or I will strip you bare and take you in front of this man, do you understand?â He snaps the words and you nod your head, focusing on him, and his hand, and his sand and trying to desperately ignore the other person.
âReport.â Sir Crocodile snarls and the poor messenger stammers a few times unsuccessfully until he finds his words.
You have no idea what the report was. Even if you werenât trying to ignore him entirely, you hadnât really kept up with what people had come in and reported earlier. Crocodileâs sand was tugging at your nipples making you whine and moan no matter how tightly pressed you kept your lips.
âNo,â you gasp softly, voice barely above a whisper. The pleasure was building and you knew you werenât going to be able to hold out until the messenger left.
The messenger goes quiet and Crocodile shifts. His hook presses harmlessly into the middle of your back and he holds you close, bending down enough to look into your eyes as he fucks you with his finger. The lewd wet sound of his finger pumping in and out of your vagina is all you can hear, and his thumb against your clit pushes you over the edge.
You hold onto his shirt, mouth open and gaze hazy as you come undone for him, fluttering against his finger. He keeps going until youâre a panting, shivering mess, your orgasm dripping onto the floor. Pulling his finger out he licks the tip before pushing it into your mouth.
âGet out.â He says, never taking his eyes off you. Youâre licking and sucking the finger in your mouth, too focused on him and the taste of your pleasure against your tongue to care about the man. You can hear the hurried click of his shoes against the floor, and the door closing behind him.
Crocodile lays you down on his desk, letting the shirt fall to either side of you. His finger is still in your mouth as he leans down and licks your body. His tongue starts against your throbbing pussy, and trails a thick, heavy line up to your breasts. You squirm beneath him, hands holding onto his arm as his teeth graze your skin.
An impossibly large bulge presses against your soaked slit as his cock strains against his pants. He pulls his finger out of your mouth and puts the curve of his hook under your chin, teeth nipping at your collarbone as you hear his belt being undone.
âBeg for it,â he growls into your skin, the sound of his zipper the last thing you hear before a hard and throbbing length lays against you.
You canât look down, but it feels massive. Far too large for your body.
âPlease,â you sob, the hazy pleasure in your eyes quickly being replaced by cold fear. âItâs⌠youâre too big, Sir, please.â
Even as you say it, your legs stay open and two thick fingers push inside you. The stretch is sweet, and taut, fear tightening you up, but it doesnât hurt. The loud squelch of pleasure lets his fingers go in deep. Your cry is half pleasure, half surprise, and he looms over you, keeping your face tilted back with his hook, but still looking into your eyes.
âBeg for it.â He repeats, scissoring his fingers gently inside you. âBeg like a good girl and Iâll make sure it feels good.â
âBuh, I-.â You moan as he pushes a third finger inside, gritty sand wrapping around your legs and pushing them wide. âPlease-please, I⌠I want you⌠you, inside me,â you stammer the words, hands holding onto the gold guard that attaches his hook to his wrist. âI-.â
âSay what it is you want,â he instructs.
âYour⌠yourâŚâ Your mind whirls through all the possible words, but the aching pleasure inside your vagina is distracting. âThing! Your cock!â You gasp the word as his fingers push in deeper. âPlease! Please p-put your kuh-cock in my⌠my heat, my ⌠youâre going to split me in half.â You sob.
âI wonât.â He asserts, licking your scent glands. No oneâs ever even run fingers over that part of your body. The new pleasure sends a shiver through your whole body and you can feel the rush flood over his fingers. âRelax. Tell me where you want it.â He urges you on, your hands trembling against the gold.
You mewl, blood rushing to your face, and close your eyes. âPuh⌠my pussy⌠please.â You suck in a breath as his fingers curl inside you, sending stars into your vision. âPlease, please put your, your cock, in my, my pussy, please, Sir, please. Iâm buh-begging for it, please, please.â
He licks at the delicious parts of your skin more, sending shivers through your body and ripping gasping cries from your lips. When you could form words you continued to beg him to take you, even though the idea of it scares you.
More than the sand that held your legs open, and more than the tongue, teeth, lips, and fingers that licked, nipped, kissed and pet you, his scent was driving you to the brink. No oneâs smell had ever bothered you. None of the other omegas that cared for you, none of the rare few alphas they let watch you writhe in pain, no one else until now had a scent that sank into your skin and clawed at your brain.
âPlease!â You scream. âFuck me, I canât take it!â
His hook moves away, and his hand is under your head, holding you and forcing you to look at him as he begins to push in to your hot, wet, needy cunt.
Crocodileâs POV
His eyes were blown wide, taking in every detail. The way your cunt shivers at his tip as he pushes in slowly. The way your mouth hangs open, unable to say anything more, your tongue slipping past your wet lips, tears dropping down your cheeks.
Youâre not in your heat, but the scent of fear has turned to need and he feels like he could tear pieces of the savory smell from the very air. What fools thought your scent had been ruined? What utterly worthless people dared to tell you that you needed fixed?
He can feel your toes curl as his tip pushes in deeper, the pleasure finally over taking the sheer stretch and you breathe in. Your lungs fill and you clench against him, hands pawing at his chest, fingers flexing against his vest.
You gasp air in once, twice, unwilling to let it go, or unable to think of such an action as he stretches you to a degree that must seem impossible. If you werenât so deliciously wet, if he hadnât stretched you with his fingers, youâd be in incredible pain right now.
And by the seas he almost wants to break you.
âBreathe,â he commands gently and you finally breathe out, the clenching pressure turning to a fluttering shiver and he takes the moment of relaxation to push the rest of the way in. His hips snug against your thighs, the sands dissipating now that thereâs no way for you to close your legs. Youâre not in a heat, and heâs not in a rut, so thereâs no throbbing knot at the bast of his cock, making it easier for you to take him.
âSee? You took it all.â He purrs, guiding your gaze so you can see it. âYouâre made for me. A perfect fit.â
Your POV
He pulls back and you watch as the thick, bumpy shaft slowly exits you. You canât believe something that is easily the size of your own forearm can fit between your thighs. That it isnât actually splitting you in half, tearing you apart from the inside, is beyond you to really comprehend right now.
It does, however, feel amazing, and as he pushes back in, your body shivers and jolts, as pleasure licks you from the inside. You writhe on the desk, held in place by his hand on the back of your head, and mewl as he slowly hilts again.
Only to slowly pull back out.
Itâs almost painful how carefully he pushes back inside you, leaving your body desperate for something it had never had before.
âFuh-faster, please, faster!â You cry, as he hooks your leg in the crook of his left arm, pushing it back and pinning you more securely to the desk.
He grinds into you for a second before pulling back out faster this time. The long, smooth motion is still slow, but he presses back in faster, pulling out a little more quickly. Your body is shaking, and the building pleasure is both similar to the times youâve cum before, and very different.
His first heavy thrust in pushes the air from your lungs, it rushes past your lips and out into the air in a breathy moan. One hand is on the bell of his hook, the other clutching the forearm that disappears into your hair and holds you in place. Fear tenses your body, but itâs not fear of him, or fear of pain.
Itâs that as he speeds up and falls into a faster and faster pace, the loud, wet smack of his thighs against yours, you just keep ascending. The pleasure is only building. Itâs an overwhelming climb and when you look at him you know he knows.
Heâs not going to show you mercy.
âToo much!â you squeak. âItâs - itâs gonna be- too much! Iâll die! Iâll die!â
âYouâll live.â He husks and the way his words drip from his lips and grab your throat makes your heart pound.
Your breath falls out of your mouth in short bursts, forced out with each heavy thrust as he starts to properly fuck you. You canât plead with him, you can barely pull air back into your lungs as your heart pounds and your body flushes with heat.
Crocodile leans down as your pleasure finally starts to break, his body rubbing against yours and teasing your throbbing clit. You suck in a breath as the orgasm slams into you and he claims your lips, devouring your scream and your mouth as you cum hard against his cock. Your legs kick and twitch as your toes curl and flex.
The heavy kiss steals what little air you had, and youâve not the sense to try and breathe any other way. The pleasure and lack of oxygen is a dizzying combination, and you donât know if youâll pass out from pleasure or lack of air. As the orgasm subsides, he breaks the kiss, leaning back as you gasp and cough to catch your breath.
 He doesnât let up, letting go of his hold on your head, and pressing his thumb into your clit. Heâs still holding your leg with his other arm, and he moves enough to carefully put your neck inside the curl of his hook.
You donât need him to tell you not to move.
You focus on breathing as the pleasure builds again, worried each uncontrollable twitch of your legs and fingers will prove to be too much. Youâre caught in the beasts jaws, completely immobilized, and any useless thrashing on your part would only lead to harm.
You carefully put your hands on the hook, steadying yourself against it as the second orgasm threatens to overtake you. You donât want to defy him, or even appear to do so, but you canât control your own body right now.
âPlease,â you gasp. âI canât⌠canât stay still⌠I canât, itâs-.â
He growls, and you see what you saw before. Eyes that seem too reptilian, and teeth that seem too sharp. A face thatâs terrifying and beautiful. Protective and inevitable.
âIf I hurt you,â he growls, his voice deep and grinding between his teeth like rocks. âIt would be on purpose.â
He slows a little, his thumb still teasing your clit.
âBeg.â He commands.
âPlease,â you let go of his hook and reach out to him. âDevour me.â
The growl that rolls in his chest, the light behind those amber gold eyes, the smile that splits his face. You let your arms fall to the desk, submitting to him completely as he resumes fucking you. The pleasure rolls through your body, but itâs not your will that moves you. Every twitch and whine pulled from you is because he commands it.
Every shiver and gasp is because heâs granted you the pleasure of it.
Youâve given in for now, drowning in the vice-like grip that forces another orgasm into your exhausted muscles, but you know. You cry out in euphoria as the pleasure drags you under, and you know. His thick cock throbs inside your hot cunt and he fills you full of his seed, and you know.
You know if you donât escape him, he will claim every fiber of your soul when you go into heat.
What you donât know, is if itâs what you want.
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 4: Punishment
The older gentleman that measures you has such an air of professionalism, you donât even care youâre almost completely naked. Save for a pair of ill-fitting underwear, you have on nothing else. He lets you stand near the fireplace and works quickly, stating numbers to a younger assistant who has kept his back turned since you were requested to disrobe.
Crocodile watches the whole thing, he may be working at his desk no one doubts he is paying due attention to the process.
âAll done. You may redress, young Miss, thank you.â He instructs with a small bow before gathering his things. âIâll have a catalogue brought in and you can choose what you like.â
You freeze, the large shirt youâd been wearing falling into place only because of how large it is.
âChoose?â You question, looking from a seemingly disinterested Crocodile to the tailor. âI will have options?â
The sound of Crocodileâs pen stops, the tailor going pale at the sudden silence. Something about it unnerves you too, but you arenât sure why.
âYes.â Crocodile answers for him, taking a deep drag of his cigar before letting out a long trail of smoke. âYou may choose whatever you want.â
Logically you understood what that meant, but you were struggling with the practice of it. Youâd never decided something for yourself. Your attendants dressed you, and your clothes were decided by someone beyond even them. Your meals, your breaks, when you slept - you existed within the borders someone else set.
The only thing you ever had the right to enforce was that no one was allowed to touch you. Even the tailor had taken care to barely even graze your skin with his gloves despite the closeness with which he worked.
You decided not to overthink it, and sat down near the fire when the tailor returned with a catalog.
âIf you have any questions, I am at your service, Miss.â he says, stepping back and letting you have some space.
You sit and flip through the catalog. There are all sorts of items listed, from uniforms to evening wear. When you reach the accessories, gloves and the like, you go back to the start.
âDo you have things that are easy to put on?â You question as flatly as you can. Asking a question at all feels demeaning, but you donât want to pick something with complicated clasps on accident.
âYes Miss. There are a couple sundresses available, which are generally just pulled on over oneâs head. Button-up shirts have easily accessible buttons down the front of the garment, you may like those as well.â He turns the pages of the catalog slowly, pointing out various items.
He speaks evenly and carefully, nothing given away in his tone if your questions are absurd or not. It puts you at ease, and you realize after some time that you must have demanded this manâs attention for at least an hour, and he never faltered. With clothes decided he steps over to Crocodileâs desk, and the two finalize things.
Youâd chosen two sundresses, two pants and two shirts. The tailor told you that undergarments would be provided and you decided not to point out that while you knew what under clothes were, itâd been so long since youâd been permitted to wear any you werenât sure you wanted to.
The whole affair started after lunch, and was done by dinner.
For you the day had been long, aside from eating and dealing with the tailor you did nothing else but lounge on the small couch and watch the fire. You didnât want to walk the grounds in nothing but his shirt, and you didnât even really want to leave the room in the first place. It was comfortable now that youâd gotten used to it.
Since he took his meals at his desk, you took yours in the room as well. People came in and out in a near steady stream - the only break for him had been while you were being measured.
âAfter dinner, youâll have your lesson.â He says when no one else is left in the room with you.
âMy lesson?â You question and feel yourself stiffen as you remember before he says it.
âProper and efficient hygiene.â He answers flatly.
âRight, I⌠I mean, I didnât do anything today, Iâm hardly in need of a shower.â Itâs a weak argument, but you donât want the eight foot tall alpha to be in the shower with you again. His scent has been enough from this distance.
âYouâll still do it.â He asserts. You should let it drop there, you know, but something coils between your legs at the idea of him being naked again, and it makes you nervous.
âYouâll be standing outside and in-instructing me?â You know the answer before you ask, but you canât help it.
âNo. Tonight I will be cleaning you. Tomorrow you will repeat what Iâve done.â You can hear a tinge of irritation in his voice, or maybe you imagine it. He sounds irritated randomly throughout the day as it is.
âIt wouldnât be very efficient.â You barely say the words, and Crocodile doesnât even acknowledge what you know he heard. You hear him get up, but you donât want this. It felt far less humiliating to have the attendants clean you, than it feels to have someone teach you something you should know.
And you do know it. You know what is done and how, you just havenât had to do it yourself.
âIâm not even dirty it-!â You suck in a breath as your wine glass is lifted and splashed into your face. Thereâs silence between you and Crocodile, who is carefully and with graceful practice, rolling up the sleeve of his right arm.
âWuh-why?â You manage to ask, red wine dripping down your skin.
âYou needed a reason.â He says curtly. âNow youâve ruined my shirt, stained my sofa, and wasted my time. You will be punished, and then you will be cleaned.â
âPunished?! Youâre the one who threw the wine around!â You shout, pointing at him and watching in slow horror as the wet sleeve of your shirt whips around and flicks wine onto his vest.
âIâm⌠sorry, Iâm sorry, I did not mean to do that, I -.â Panic rises up in your voice, but he cuts you and your panic off.
âYou are my guest, and have been treated as such.â His voice has an edge that sits at your throat. âAnd to repay that, you act like a spoiled brat.â
âIâm sorry, I am, Iâm sorry, I-.â
âSilence.â He snarls and you press your lips together. You werenât ever punished, you didnât know what to expect. You were sure he wasnât going to kill you, and it was unlikely he was mar you in some way. You were too valuable, but you didnât know what a pirate and an alpha would do to you.
âIf you do as youâre told, it will go better for you. Take off that ruined shirt and stand by my desk.â He commands and you do as youâre told.
Crocodile walks over and opens his door just a little, saying something to someone outside it before closing it and locking it.
âPut your hands flat on the desk and bend over.â He orders, and you do as youâre told, or you think you have. He presses you down until your chest is flush against the desk and waits until you put your palms flat against the desk.
âIf you remove your hands from my desk, I will carry you out of this room and take you into one of the big tents.â He explains, hand still in the middle of your back. âHundreds of pirates will watch me continue your punishment. Do you understand?â
âNo,â you cry, fear starting to overtake you. âNo I donât know what a punishment is, I donât understand!â Sobbing you keep your hands on the desk. âMy hands, my hands stay on the desk!â You almost whimper the words, smacking your hands on the desk. âI understand that.â
You hear a metallic sound, thin metal against thin metal and realize heâs removing his belt. âSpread your legs and lift your ass. Iâll show you what a punishment can be.â He commands.
You do as he asks, stomach in knots, body shivering. Youâre afraid youâre going to throw up onto his desk and if you do that itâll just be worse. Youâre already staining pages with tears and the wine that was in your hair.
âPlease, Iâm sorry,â you can barely form the words against tears and fear, but it doesnât matter. The leather of his doubled over belt cuts through the air and bites into the curve of your ass, licking a painful strip against your skin. You shriek, more from surprise and fear than the actual pain, and he pushes you harshly back against the desk.
âHANDS.â He growls, and you put them on the desk, shivering and sobbing. âItâs alright. You didnât know, and it took you by surprise.â He admits, his own hand almost soothing against your back until you calm down a little.
âBut now you know. Keep your hands in place.â He warns.
 Crocodileâs POV
Fuck, you smelled delicious once you became afraid. Your scent was good all the time as far as he was concerned, but right now you were divine. He wanted to shove his tongue into your cunt and taste the scent that was driving him half mad right now.
He brings the belt down a second time, eyes focused on the impact of leather against your skin. He wanted to make your ass red and puffy, but he didnât want to risk any cuts or other more permanent marks. Your flawless skin was going to stay like that until he sank his teeth into your neck.
You were going to be his. You already were, you just didnât know it yet. You were his the second Buggy had the intelligence to bring you to him. He would have to reward the idiot clown.
He pauses after the third strike, setting the belt down and putting his hand on your ass.
âTell me why youâre being punished.â He says, his voice almost tender compared to earlier.
You sob and hiccup, this new experience for you is more fear than pain. Heâs sure you know what punishment is as a concept, but itâs very possible this was your first direct experience of it.
âI⌠I got wine on your vuh-vest.â The scent rolling off you has his pants uncomfortably tight. He wants to split you in half with his cock, burying his knot into your cunt until his own spend bubbles out past the tight fit.
He smacks your ass with his bare hand, delighting in the feel of your skin, hot against his palm. You yelp, keeping your hands on the desk. He appreciated your fear of the tent - he didnât want to share you with anyone.
âAnd?â
âAnd⌠and I was a buh-bad guest. Iâm sorry.â You cry.
âGood girl.â He says. âYou learned, and this is so you donât forget. Be sure to say thank you after each one.â He warns.
Your POV
His hand lands, sharp and heavy against your ass cheek, the impact stings.
âFour!â You cry.
âOne.â He corrects. âDonât worry about before now.â
Sniffling you nod. His voice had been so gentle once you admitted your mistakes that you didnât want him to talk to you the other way again. That was scary, this was reassuring.
Another heavy smack on the opposite side.
âTwo,â you gasp as he grabs your stinging cheek in his massive hand, squeezing it. The pleasure from the massage chases behind the harsh sting and addles your mind.
âYou wonât be a bad guest again, right?â He questions, punctuating it with another slap. Shaking your head you count out, the sound turning into a soft mewl as he grabs your cheek again.
He repeats the action, but after you count you canât stop the breathy, âNo,â that slips between your lips.
âNo?â He inquires, a dangerous tone in his voice. âAre you telling me to stop?â
âNo! No, I - I mean⌠I âŚâ you almost start crying again. âI⌠It feels weird.â
He slaps your ass cheeks in quick succession, raining down blows so fast it is impossible for you to count. Just as it starts to really hurt he stops, grabbing one red and stinging ass cheek and forcing a sound out of you, that you hadnât expected to make.
The lascivious sound is unmistakable.
âIâm sorry!â Panic rises in your throat, but Crocodile just turns you over, laying you on your back, your legs dangling off his desk.
The look on his face has you frozen in place. He looks like heâs going to eat you. The golden amber eyes are slit tight, burning as they look down at you.
âYouâre turned on?â
âIâm sorry!â You cry, tears running down the side of your face. âIâm sorry I didnât - I couldnât - I learned, I swear I learned! I didnât know, I -!â
Crocodileâs POV
His hand over your mouth quiets you. You shiver beneath him, the look on his face sending an odd heat through your body and once you calm down a little he moves his hand away from your mouth.
âYouâre going to get your wish,â he says, his voice dripping with restraint. âBut only because it may be after midnight before Iâm sated.â
He pushes your leg up onto the desk, pining it in place with his hook. You scream, covering your mouth as you realize he hasnât impaled you, just restrained your leg with his hook. Terror is making your scent stronger and he canât take it anymore.
He grabs your other leg by the ankle and pulls you open, exposing your dripping cunt to the air. The smell puts visions in his head of him truly devouring you like a small shivering rabbit.
âNo, no please!â Panic claws at your voice and you put your hands over your mound. âDonât-donât! Youâll-youâll lose money if you take it! I wonât-.â
âSilence.â He forces it upon you and you fall silent, hands still covering yourself. âMove. Your. Hands.â
Your face flushes down to your shoulders, but you do as he commands.
âWhat value you have to the gods doesnât matter to me.â He says, kneeling down between your legs. âTheyâre beneath me, so it only matters what worth you have to me.â
The tip of his nose grazes the hair of your pussy, and he breathes in deep, letting the sweet scent soak his lungs before his tongue parts your labia and the tip flicks against your clit. You tense and squeak, unable to close your legs, body shivering for all manner of reasons.
The taste of you is a delight he couldnât dare name, but the single lick isnât nearly enough. Youâre going to enjoy what heâs going to do to you, even if you havenât been good enough to truly earn it yet.
Your POV
The first gentle lick sends a jolt through you, but you donât have time to say anything before his mouth begins to devour you again. His lips press in deep, parting yours and letting his thick tongue press against the slick between your folds. The hot wet muscle sends a strange sensation through you, and you squirm uselessly against his hold on you.
âWhat - wait, I - whaaaaaatâs this?â You whine, as he licks heavy against your clit.
âConsider it part of your punishment.â He grumbles into your skin. His voice is soothing to your ears, but his actions have you on edge.
Another heavy lick and you canât stop yourself as your body rolls from the pleasure that ripples through you. Crocodile growls when you move, but doesnât stop licking your cunt. You reach out, putting your hands into his hair and the growl shifts into a purr.
The new sound relaxes you from head to toe, and with less energy spent on holding you down Crocodile focuses on eating you out. Hungry lips and a heavy tongue urge more and more slick from you, and drag thick, heady panting moans from you.
The airy moans falling from your lips turn into whines as the pleasure builds. Youâre squirming beneath him, but since youâre holding onto his hair youâre not squirming away from him.
âPlease, please,â you huff, feeling a delicious pleasure coil between your thighs. Youâd never orgasmed before. Youâd come close, but you werenât permitted that kind of pleasure outside of your heats, and during them you couldnât attain it by yourself.
What you knew well was the climb to that elusive precipice.
âIâm close, Iâm close, please, please, Iâm sorry, please let me! Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, I wonât - wonât argue again, please, please!â You cry, your body shivering as he brings you closer and closer.
Just before you tip over the edge, Crocodile shifts, plunging his thick tongue into your vagina. He releases your ankle and rolls his thumb against your clit as his tongue curls inside you.
An unintelligible sound is ripped from your lips as pleasure pulls taut every muscle in your body. You can feel yourself throbbing against his thick tongue, each twitch of your own body sending another merciless jolt of pleasure through you.
Crocodile doesnât stop. Some addled part of your brain thinks thatâs fitting, but it does you no good as your overstimulated body jerks and curls.
âPlease,â the word shivers from your lips as Crocodile withdraws his tongue from your twitching cunt.
âOne more.â He husks, eyes soft and out of focus. âYou taste even better than you smell, little starling, and I will drink once more at least.â
He pushes your leg back again, engulfing your breast with his hand and holding you in place as he licks heavy into your slit. All you can do is hold onto his arm as he drinks his fill bringing you to the edge a second time.
This orgasm soaks into your body, making your heart rush even as your muscles seem to relax against it. The pleasure rolls your eyes back and loosens your grip on his arm, letting him press your body into an immovable hold even more than before. Sweat begins to slick your skin and his tongue moves away from your cunt, licking the salt and thin sheen from the crease of your hips.
âCr-Crocodile⌠please,â you paw at his arm as he licks up the backside of your thigh.
âMercy then, perhaps.â He purrs, and his teeth look so sharp, and his eyes look so reptilian, and the scent of sand and honey that surrounds him is thick and sticky, and you can almost feel it pulling your cunt open for him.
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 3: Whims
âNo! No!â You fight the hand gripping your wrist, but you canât stop Crocodile from tossing you into the cold shower. The icy water makes you screech and you scramble to get away from it, but he steps into the space with you and drags you back under it.
âStay.â He commands, a sound in his voice you find yourself compelled to obey. You could, you think, step out of the freezing water, but the command aside, you were certain heâd just throw you right back in. This was less a battle of wills, and more a lesson in strength.
Heâs rough with you, cleaning the couple spots you missed without any concern beyond getting them clean. Fortunately, you were very thorough with your privates, so he wasnât coarsely scrubbing you in those places, but youâd missed your back a little - heâd even shown you in a mirror before dragging you back into the bathroom. You pleaded with him the whole way to at least turn on a little of the hot water, but he hadnât said anything.
Youâd never been treated so roughly outside of your heats, but once he was satisfied with your cleanliness this time, he shut the water off and threw a massive, fluffy, warm towel at you.
âDry up.â He says, peeling the wet clothes off his skin. You can feel irritation rolling off him, the garments falling to the floor in heavy wet piles.
Small scars cross over corded muscles and a body that looks like it could snap you in half with hardly a concern. You try not to stare, but the shapes of his muscles and the elegant way he moved was alluring. You took care in how you looked and moved because you had spent years being a piece of art.
Surely he did so for a different reason. You couldnât imagine he had the patience to put on a show for anyoneâs amusement but his own.
âTomorrow Iâll teach you how to shower efficiently.â His tone leaves no room for argument, even if you bristle at the implication that you cannot bathe yourself properly. âYou took an hour to do a mediocre job. Unsurprising, since you had servants until just today.â
An idle hand, resting on your head for a second, is warm, but itâs hard to say if he means it condescendingly or reassuringly.
âGrab a shirt from the dresser by the bed, or sleep naked.â He says, stepping into the shower for himself.
You wrap your hair in the towel and walk out into the room. The dresser by the bed is heavy and wooden and oddly threatening just like everything else in the room. As though the furniture was meant to defend as much as the walls. But itâs quality work and the doors open easily.
Rows of large white shirts hang neatly. Thereâs no obvious difference from one to the next so you grab on and put it on.
You have to roll the cuffs up so much they almost feel like shackles against your arms. And even buttoning it to the collar it almost slips off your shoulders, but itâs enough to get you through the night, and the shirtâs bottom hem went past your knees like pajamas.
You almost had to climb into the bed to get into it, but it was every bit the kind of luxury you were used to once you got into it. With an added benefit of being quite large. It stirred something in you because it felt like a nest just as it was, even if you werenât in need of one right now.
It didnât take long for you to find a comfortable spot and begin to drift off. The alpha had been right, the day had been long and too full of things, and having all that paint off your skin felt nice.
Extra nice knowing it wasnât likely to be reapplied tomorrow, since heâd already shown a disdain toward it.
Crocodileâs POV
Haughty, arrogant, and full of more fire than he expected from an omega, you did intrigue him. Everyone who knew anything about omegas and alphas, knew about the Starling. Though most of those not living on the Red Line viewed you with pity more than anything else.
The art piece of the Celestial Dragons. An omega with a scent so intoxicating she was denied physical contact with anyone who wasnât also an omega, in some misguided belief that it would keep her pure.
Instead they broke a perfectly good omega and then threw you away when the inevitable happened.
He lights a cigar, sitting at his desk. Your scent was already improved with that paint no longer on your skin, the cigar was more for his own sanity than anything else. A habit developed to keep him from lowering himself to the mindless posturing alphas fell victim to over a few sniffs of pheromones. If he was going to be angry, it was because he decided to be. If he was going to be violent it was because he chose so for himself.
So much success was credited to alphas simply by virtue of them being born such, and it rankled him. Heâd met plenty of completely useless alphas in his life. Men and women who leveraged what meager success theyâd garnered in life solely on the luck of their second sex.
He wouldâve stood above them all even if heâd been born a beta, as far as he was concerned.
But you were already testing that.
By the sands he wanted you to strike him. He wanted to know what the sting of your defiance would feel like, but you stayed your hand at the sight of him. Youâd nearly knocked Buggy off his feet, according to the clown. Something that had earned you points in his book. Anyone who feared or respected that buffoon was a useless fool. He had little value behind the smokescreen he provided for Crocodile and Mihawk.
The swordsman wasnât an alpha. Dracule Mihawk was an omega, probably the worldâs biggest secret, save for the location of the One Piece. Medicines and sheer will had kept him hidden until he found someone who could - and would - remove the parts of him that made him an omega.
Given omegas value to the WG, that was one ballsy fucking doctor. The only lingering effect is that every twenty eight days, he has something like a heat. It lasts maybe an hour, itâs the only time Crocodile can smell him, and itâs a rancid scent to him, but no one else seems to pick up on it.
For Mihawk it is rough. Enough that he wasnât able to keep it from Crocodile, but now he wonders. A half-broken heat that requires no alpha and passes within the hour was that much of an ordeal for a renowned and respected swordsman.
What hell was it like for you? Writhing for hours, if not days, begging for an alpha to guide you through the pain and desperation of your heat. Only to be covered in slop and left in a cage so that others could be entertained by your wailing scent and savage song.
But now he had a decision to make.
Even a broken Starling was still an untouched omega. You were still a piece of divinity from the Red Line, a bird of the gods. He could trade you for several tribute vessels and still not get your full value.
OrâŚ
Your POV
You were asleep before the shower turns off, but a shift in the bed wakes you up. Turning toward him, you notice heâs well beyond dry, with just pants on. You arenât sure how long you slept, the room was dark when you entered and is dark still. You donât know if he kept working for hours after his shower or not.
You start to move out of the bed, when that commanding voice wraps around your throat again.
âStay.â He says it with less force than heâd used in the shower, but youâre no less sure you donât have space to disobey. âYouâve only been asleep a couple hours.â
You shift to the far end of the bed, more because itâs not yours, but youâre not even laid down completely before lazy swirls of sand pull you into the middle of the bed. The chest you're tucked against is warm, more solid wall than human body you think, but the arm tucked under your head puts you in a comfortable position.
Comfortable enough physically, but you canât help the fear that shivers in your muscles. The tension that wonât release from how close he was. Youâd snuggled and cuddle with your omega attendants before, finding warmth and solace in the embrace of one another when none was found anywhere else.
But this was different. The sweet scent of the room was his. It was his scent that filled the breaths you were trying to control. It was comforting in a way you didnât want it to be, terror lingering in the folly that came with trust. You were a work of art, not something to be cared for beyond ensuring you could perform.
Even broken they hadnât given you the relief of finding an alpha, and this one knows what a piece of art you are. You wonât stay, youâll be sold as any piece of art would be on a black market.
He puts his hand over your mouth, holding your face in place with ease, as if to prove a point. His baritone voice is quiet and smooth, clear and deliberate against your ear.
âIf I wished to break you beneath me, you would shivering under the shower right now, the remainder of my desires draining into the sewers.â He explains, and for a moment the understanding makes you tense, but the heat, and firm weight of his hand on your face was oddly comforting. âRelax, and sleep, I promise nothing will happen.â
You almost wanted to say something about the promise of a pirate, but the warmth from his body behind you, and the way he tugged the shirt you were wearing down a little before settling his hand on your stomach helped. It was an odd compromise, but since there was nothing to be done about it, you didnât try to fight it.
Sleep gripped you just as tightly the second time and you fell into a deep slumber. Your dreams were full of sand, but it was the lazy shifting of large dunes, and clear blue skies that were filled with a sun that was pleasant instead of oppressive.
When you wake, youâre warm, but itâs all softness and blankets, and the steady scratch of pen against paper is already filling your ears. Your eyes open slowly, the room just as dim as it was, a little more light gathered at the desk thatâs not too far away. Far enough away that no one coming into this office/bedroom combination would notice you.
So long as you didnât move or make noise.
âWelcome to the land of the living.â Crocodile says gruffly. With no one else that you can see in the room, he must be talking to you, which means heâs aware that youâre awake. âSomeone will be in to take your measurements, and clothes will be made for you. Ones that you will be able to take on and off by yourself.â
âWhy?â You question, pulling yourself from the warmth of the covers and getting out of the bed.
âWould you rather them require attendants?â
âNo. I mean why do this for me?â You clarify. Thereâs nothing in your voice, save for a bit of confusion, but you understand your situation clearly. âI am broken art.â Standing by the side of his desk you watch him work. âI am not ungrateful for your kindness, but I donât understand it. I am nothing but a risk for you and yours.â
âA risk?â He spares you a look.
âThe Celestial Dragons are petulant children. They do not like their things to be taken away unless they break them directly.â You explain. âI broke myself and so I must be punished. Fixed, to be broken in a way that is controlled by them.â
His brows raise, and you shrug.
âIâm not stupid. I knew my place. I endured because I thought it would be rewarded.â Sighing, you roll your eyes. âAnd here I am. The marines will come, maybe even those creepy Cipher Pol agents. Any weapon the bleating cries of the baby Celestials can command.
âIf for no other reason than to tear me apart.â
Crocodile is silent for a moment before returning to his paperwork. âYouâre my guest until I decide what to do with you.â He begins to explain. âSo I will treat you how I please.â
You watch him work silently for a long time. He offers you nothing, and doesnât waste his breath prompting you. Instead he allows you to observe him as you please. Maybe itâs because heâs an alpha, or maybe itâs because he is simply who he is, but you feel like he doesnât fear the marines or Cipher Pol.
And that lack of fear is not empty, or ill-informed bravado.
âI have lived at the whims of far crueler masters than you, I suppose.â You muse softly, before stepping away from his desk and sitting on a small sofa near the fireplace.
Your boyfriend was a gentleman. That was a fact. He would treat every single woman very well, and of course it didnât bother you, but sometimes, these women would clearly flirt with him in front of you and he wouldnât even cut them off.
Treating a woman well is different from letting they disrespect your own girlfriend and your relationship, right?
Not for Sanji, apparently.
âYouâre such a great cook, I wish youâd cook for me everyday!â You hear the melodic voice of the girl Luffy decided to help. She lost her ship and now needs to get to the next Island and of course the Captain said âyes, sure!â.
You hear your boyfriendâs laugh and almost roll your eyes, itâs been almost a week and every fuckinâ day - and more than once she hints on him.
On your fucking boyfriend.
And he laughs.
âSucks Iâm stuck here.â He says, playfully.
âYou should run away with me.â She says as she smiles, you look at her, a deadly sight in your eyes, but she only smiles more as she notices youâre mad. âWhat do you think, cook?â
âI canât, but Iâm glad you liked my cooking.â He says and smiles to her. Honestly? You wanted to throw the book Robin gave you on his head.
âNot only the cookingâŚâ She whispers, laughing and looking away, pretending sheâs shy and shit.
âFuckâs sake.â You whisper and get up, to not kill her and Sanji, you decide to go to your bedroom. The anger in your heart is so raw you donât even waves back when Franky says hi to you from the distance.
Slamming the door, you close the book and throw yourself in bed, wanting to cry but not allowing yourself to.
But damn, how you were tired of this behavior!
After some minutes in silence only processing your anger, frustration and disappointment for your boyfriendâs actions, you allow yourself to cry a little bit or youâll break your entire bedroom by freaking out.
Knock, knock, knock.
âGo away, Sanji.â You whisper, voice cracking from the negative emotion.
âItâs Nami.â
âWhat do you want?â You ask as she opens the door, getting in your bedroom only to find you crying.
âSanji is an idiot.â She says, closing the door behind her and approaching you.
âHeâs.â You whisper.
âBut that man loves you, Y/N. You should talk to him.â
âDo you think so? I think he doesnât care about us.â You sit in bed, looking at her. âIâm tired, Nami.â
âI know. He can be very⌠Polite sometimes, but I do believe he truly loves you, he even stopped to flirt with women and I thought it was an impossible thing.â
âYes, but that is another type of disrespect, so whatâs the point?â
âI know youâre upset, but talk to him, okay? And to be fair, if that girl is bothering you, talk with Luffy and maybe he can help you as well.â
âI canât. Luffy is our captain but Sanji should command respect in this situation, not him.â
âI understand.â She says. âDinner is ready. Maybe you can talk to Sanji after, uh? I can wash the dishes with Franky.â
âThank you, Nami, but Iâm not hungry.â You say, lying in bed again. âAnd if they see my face, they will ask what happened, specially Sanji, and I donât want to have this conversation in front of the crew.â
âOkay.â She seems sad for you, but decides not to insist. âIâm going to leave you and say you felt asleep, âkay?â
âThank you.â You give her a little smile and lay down again as Nami leaves your bedroom, thinking about Sanji and that woman and how much theyâre having fun. And you? Crying.
Five minutes later, itâs him who knocks the door.
âMy darling!â He opens the door and you decide to pretend youâre sleeping. âI brought you dinner, my love. Nami said you were asleep but IâŚâ You hear him put the food on your table and then, he approaches you. âMy dearest Y/N, I know youâre awake.â You can feel when he sits on your bed, one of his hands touch your face.
âPlease, my love, open your eyes.â He asks, all gentle, and as you do, Sanji stares your red eyes with a concerned face. âHave you been crying? What happened?!â
âCan you leave?! I donât want to talk with you, I just want to be alone.â You say, your heart aches when you see his beautiful eyes saddening by your words.
âWhat did I do, my darling?â He asks you, still holding your delicate face.
âAre you really asking me that?â You sit, staring at him and taking his hand away. âIâm tired of how you just allow other women to disrespect me and our relationship only because you canât be firm with them!â
âWhat?â He seems to have no clue of the situation, and your anger comes rushing out with full force, Sanji waits in silence, knowing youâre at your limit.
âAre you fucking kidding me?! Sanji, that woman out there has been flirting with you since day one! And what do you do? Nothing! Youâre just laughing and having fun with her instead of being a man and saying you wonât allow that kind of disrespect towards me and our relationship!â
âBut⌠I donât even care about these comments, my darling, I only have eyes for you!â He says, trying to hold your hands, but you get away from his touch like itâs fire.
âIt doesnât matter if you donât care, Sanji, itâs a matter of disrespect!â You truly want to hang this fucking man. âYou canât say you donât understand what disrespect is.â
âI understand, my love.â He says, quietly looking at his own hands, the sadness in his chest is uncomfortable, as well with the shame of making you cry and feel unseen. âIâm sorry, I didnât⌠I never cared, so I thought you didnât care as well.â He whispers softly and looks at you. âIâm so sorry.â
âI just want you to put limits on these kind of women. Is it that hard?â You ask, ignoring his apologies.
âNo, itâs not, my darling!â He says as he kneels in front of you. âYouâre my dearest treasure, Y/N, and from now on, I will do it!â He seems a little desperate, but you can see heâs being honest about it. âPlease, can you forgive me, my love?!â
âOkay, I can, only if you start now with that woman in the kitchen.â You say and Sanji nods as he gets up.
âOf course, my dear. I love you, my love.â He sits on the bed again only to properly hug and kiss your cheeks and lips. âIâm sorry I made you cry, I love you with all my life!â
You watch your husband laugh with his crew, while drink some beer and tell stories of their adventures. Not only the crew is listening and laughing, but all the fuckinâ bar. Shanks has this ability to make everyone pay attention to him.
Of course you admire that, but sometimes, all you wanted was some attention as well. Attention from him. It seems youâre not even important to him, he doesnât even mention you in those adventures heâs telling.
Why? Why heâs always like that? Pretending youâre not his wife?! Probably he doesnât want the blonde girl with a mini pink dress to know heâs taken, by the way heâs giving her attention, laughing at her jokes and answering her stupid questions. Who the hell doesnât know what a caravel does?
You watch the blonde girl almost sit in your husbandâs lap, pretending sheâs drunk and you roll your eyes when Shanks laughs. Argh, son of a bitch.
The anger fills every single part of your body, you want to grab your sword and kill her, then take off his dick and kill him.
Your feet automatically move when they start to sing the fuckinâ Binks song and Shanks put his only arm in her shoulders. Yeah, you should take it off as well. He deserves it.
You appear in front of the table, so angry everyone stop singing and start to look directly at their Captain. The blonde girl gives you a shameless look and you take your sword off the belt, everyone - except Shanks and the crew is alarmed.
âLeave or I will kill you.â You say to her, Shanks gets up and stops the girl from moving.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â He asks, suddenly heâs not that drunk anymore, which only upsets you more.
âI ask you that, Shanks.â You say, almost yelling. The anger in your voice makes even some people flinch. âWhat are you doing with this bitch?â
âIâm not a bitch! Youâre!â You give one more step and point the sword to her delicate face, almost cutting her left cheek.
âI could destroy your face.â You say, and a deadly serious Shanks approaches you and holds your arm. Heâs angry, but still the touch is delicate.
âCâmon here.â The red-haired guides you to outside the bar, where no one can hear you, because somehow he knows youâll yell at him.
You break free from him and push him away, with your sword in hand, you try to land a blow, but of course he dodges.
âStop it and talk to me like a normal person!â He says to you, and you drop the sword.
âI hate you sometimes.â You say, voice cracking. âI canât believe I married you.â
âWhy are you acting like this?!â Heâs confused, and it only makes you angrier and hurt.
âWhy are you acting like this? You never give me attention, Shanks! Every damn time when we arrive at an island, you talk with everyone, but never with me! You just ignore me! Always!â You yell, feeling your heart ache. Thatâs your limit, you can feel it.
âOf course I give you attention, thatâs unfair.â He says, upset and even scared of your state of mind.
âNo, Shanks. You only give me attention when weâre alone! Or in the ship! When weâre at bars you pretend I donât exist only to get attention from these fuckin women!â
âThatâs not true.â He defends himself and you want to punch his face, you even try, but Shanks holds your wrist. âStop it, baby!â
âFuck you, Shanks. How the hell this is not true? It just happened in there!â You point to the bar.
âBabyâŚâ He whispers and breathes. âThat girl means nothing to me, and to be fair she wanted to sneak with Beckman.â
âDonât lie to me, Shanks! She wanted you! She almost sat on your lap and you just laughed! Whatâs your problem? But I canât even laugh with a guy and you get all jealous!â
âThatâs notâŚâ He stops, looking at you. You were already crying. âIâm sorry, love.â
âNo.â You say. âYouâre not. You donât even think about me and my feelings, do you?â You grab your sword and pull it in your belt again. âYou donât love me enough, I guess Iâm just a woman you fuck when weâre in the ship.â
âDonât say that, my love. Thatâs not true at all.â He approaches you. âI love you so much.â
âThen why you do that?â
âI⌠Like the attention of everyone while I tell stories.â He confesses.
âI see it, Shanks.â Youâre so disappointed you donât even want to talk anymore. âIâm going to the ship.â
âIâll go with you.â
âNo, please. Donât follow me. Iâll grab some things and pass the night at some guesthouse.â You say, starting to leave.
âWhat do you mean?â Shanks follows you. âAre you breaking up with me?â
âI donât know, I need to think clearly.â You answer, not looking at him.
âDonât do this with me, doll.â He asks, his voice cracking.
âYou shouldnât have done what you did.â You finally look at him, his eyes full of tears.
âIâm sorry.â
âAnd Iâm tired, Shanks. Please, leave me alone for the night.â
âWhatever you want, baby.â He whispers and you leave to the ship, grabbing your things.
You couldnât sleep well, thinking about Shanks and yesterday. Was it worth it? You could find a new crew, you could ask for friends, maybe? Or you could find you a little ship, but your heart aches with the idea of abandoning your family and that dumb red-haired.
You leave the guesthouse and decide to eat somewhere else. You didnât want to see Shanks, so going back to the ship wasnât an option. You found a little restaurant and entered, ordering and sitting in the back.
âYou fucked up our Captain, uh?â You hear Beckmanâs raspy voice.
âGood morning, Beck.â You say, not even smiling. âI bet he was the one who fucked yesterday.â The familiar pain of betrayal and rejection appears only by the imagination, but to be fair, what could you expect from Shanks at this point?
âWhat? Are you talking about the blonde girl?â
âWhy? Thereâs another woman?â You finally look up at him only to see his surprise face.
âShanks would never cheat on you, you know that.â He says and you laugh.
âI actually donât know.â
âHe didnât come back after you both left and when I went to the ship, I found him at his worst.â
âGood for him, he deserves it.â You say, but your heart gains a little of hope and relief.
âYou broke up with him, then.â
âI didnât.â
âThen comeback to the ship. Not only because we all love you, but because he really does.â You donât answer him. âIâve never seen Shanks this emotionally destroyed, the man was sobbing while lying on the floor.â You look at him and then look away.
âFine, but I will eat first.â
When you get into your shared bedroom, you see your husband in bed, his shirt half opened and his hair a mess, but still hot, like always.
âShanks.â You call him and he opens his eyes.
âY/N, love!â He almost fell from the bed when he saw you. âFuck.â
âAre you okay, old man?â You cross your arms.
âNot really, I cried the whole night. Baby, please, forgive me! Iâm so stupid.â He says as he approaches you. âI never did anything I did on purpose to make you feel sad or rejected, I just thought you didnât want to be part of it, my love. And I never pretended to be single, I love you with my entire heart, youâre my wife and the only woman of my life.â
âYou really mean it?â
âOf course I do! I know youâre disappointed with me right now and Iâm also disappointed with myself, but I promise you, doll, I will never do that kind of shit again.â
âIf it happens again, Iâll cut off your dick and your only arm.â You say and he laughs, but stops when notice you mean it from your heart.
âIt wonât, my love.â He says. âI love you so much, so much.â He kisses your face, but you pull away from his lips.
âDid you vomit?â
âOh, fuck, yeah.â He says. âSorry, love, I forgot.â
âEw, Shanks.â You say and he laughs. âI love you too your dumb ass.â
It was so late and you were so tired but couldnât sleep, because your husband wasnât there. His side of bed so cold you couldnât barely touch it.
Oh, how much you hated it.
Why a fucking married man has to spent the night in a casino?!
You hear the door opening and watch him enter your shared bedroom. As you sit, he stares at you.
âStill awake?â He asks, and you roll your eyes. âWhatâs wrong?â
âWhy do you have to be at the casino until this late?â
âI donât necessarily have to, but somedays I just want to.â He says it with that calm voice and you grab his pillow and throw it in his face.
âY/N.â His voice is rough, but you donât care.
âSomedays you just want to? Are you kidding me?! God, I spent nights alone in this fuckinâ house, I sleep alone because my husband wants to be at a fucking casino?â
âYes.â He grabs the pillow and throws it in the bed, starting to take off his clothes.
âIâm so tired, you know?â You say, getting up. âYouâre never here. Never with me! And now you tell me you could be, but prefer to be away. Did you met someone else?!â
âWhat? No.â
âSo itâs Miss All Sunday? Youâre fucking her.â
âNo.â You can tell by his voice heâs tired and angry. âMy dear, please, I need to sleep.â
âSleep alone.â You start to leave, but his hook-hand holds you in place by your waist.
âYouâre the only person I need and love, dear. Of course all I wanted to do is be with you, but some nights I prefer to stay at the casino because I donât want to worry you with my stress.â
âI donât care if youâre stressed, your piece of shit, IâŚâ Crocodile presses the hook on your waist and gives you a warning look.
âBehave yourself.â
âI just want you to be here with me.â You say, and he approaches you and hugs you from behind.
âI know, my love. I promise Iâll be.â He kisses your hair. âNow come back to bed, Iâll give you a lesson for disrespecting me.â
The clash of energy blasts and shattering masonry echoed from the central plaza of Yggsgard, turning the celestial, golden realm into a chaotic, neon-drenched nightmare. But behind the intact marble pillars of a quiet alcove, the atmosphere was entirely different.
Parker slumped against a stone bench. His dark, mystical cloak flickered with low, erratic purple flames, and a fresh plasma burn was smoking slightly on his shoulder. Was it a serious, life-threatening injury? Honestly, no. He had roughly 45 HP left and his pistols were smoking. A quick splash of water from Jeff the Land Sharks healing tech or a brief second spent regenerating his shields inside Sue Storms bubble would have fixed him up two seconds flat.
But no. Parker Robbins was a man with a mission, a fresh burn, and a massive, agonizingly heavy crush. He had explicitly dodged the cute little land shark three times across the battlefield, actively sprinting in the opposite direction just to crawl over here. He didnt want a sloppy splash of water or a detached hard-light shield. He needed your hands on him. Specifically.
Using his dark magic to slip past the enemy Star-Lords relentless line of fire, Parker practically threw himself around the corner of the stone pillar where you were taking cover. He let out a deliberately pathetic, heavily strained groan, leaning his weight against the wall and letting his dual pistols drop uselessly to his sides.
"Ah... god, ma," Parker rasped, his voice a perfect, practiced mix of genuine exhaustion and shameless exaggeration. He looked up at you through his messy, sweat-dampened hair, his dark eyes wide and pleading. "Im hurting bad over here. Think you can... you know, work your magic on me? Personally?"
You sighed, a mixture of fondness and exasperation washing over you, but your eyes softened. "Parker, I told you to stop dive-bombing the enemy backline alone."
"Yeah, well," Parker muttered, his voice dropping an octave, becoming softer, rougher as you stepped closer. "Jeffs healing gets me too wet. I wanted your healing."
You paused, your hands hovering just above his chest, your eyes flicking up to meet his. "Parker, Jeffs healing is instantaneous. You dragged yourself all the way across the courtyard for a slow patch-up?"
"Maybe I like the slow way," he murmured, leaning a fraction of an inch closer.
As you finally placed your palms flat against his chest, your healing abilities flared to life. A warm, soothing light began to knit his wounds back together, seeping directly into his skin. Parker practically melted under your touch. He let out a low, shaky breath, his heart hammering against your palms like a trapped bird. He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, completely vulnerable, just soaking in your incredible warmth.
He cleared his throat, trying to muster up some of that signature Brooklyn bravado, though his hands were slightly trembling. "Ive always wanted to dive into you," Parker murmured, the words slipping out of his mouth before his brain could stop them.
Your eyes slightly widened at the sudden comment. The heavy, loaded implication hung thickly in the air between you, making the space between your chests feel suddenly electric. You blinked, wondering if the ambient noise of the battle had distorted his words. "...what?" was all you said.
Parkers heart did a violent flip. Realizing you had actually heard him, his survival instincts kicked in, and he scrambled to cover it up with a hasty, breathless cough. "Im talking about the battle, ma⌠yknow me and you could dive into the back lines. It would be a nasty team up, yeah?"
You raised an eyebrow but before you could question him further, Parkers chest swelled with a sudden, desperate surge of confidence. This is it, he thought. The lighting is perfect. Her hands are on me. Im just gonna say it. Im asking her out the second this match ends.
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping back down to a smooth, sultry murmur. "Yknow, youre really a lifesaver, ma. I dont know what Id do out here without you. Maybe tonight, after we wrap this up, you and I could get someâ"
"Whoaâ!" Parker gasped.
Instinctively, his street-honed reflexes took over. He threw his uninjured arm around your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you flat to the dirt just as the deafening, sonic boom of Hanzos ultimate shattered every piece of glass within a mile radius.
A pair of massive, glowing blue spirit dragons roared directly through the alcove, missing the two of you by mere inches thanks to a sudden, last-second magical barrier that snapped into place above you. Dust, debris, and glowing blue spiritual residue rained down on your heads.
Parker lay flat on his back in the dirt, staring blankly up at the sky. His perfect moment. His flawless, romantic, vulnerable pitch. Completely vaporized by a pair of giant ghost dragons.
From a few yards away, Doctor Strange floated by casually, lowering his glowing mandalas and dodging a stray projectile. "Oh, sorry about that, lovebirds! The choke point shifted!"
Parker slowly pushed himself up, wiping a layer of Yggsgard dust off his face. His perfect moment was ruined, but worse? Because Doctor Strange had just swooped in to save them from a literal dragon, the rest of the team immediately assumed the worst. Looking over, Jeff the Land Shark and Sue Storm saw the two of them covered in dirt and spiritual residue, and the supportive panic set in. They thought you were hurt.
Was the universe seriously cockblocking him like a motherfucker right now?
A low, wet, rhythmic âDun-dun... dun-dun... dun-dun...â began to echo from the dust cloud. It was Jeff, quite literally mimicking the Jaws theme song as he paddled furiously through a spawned puddle.
Then suddenly, a wet, thundering screech shattered the remaining quiet. Before Parker could even open his mouth to complain, a massive, gelatinous wave of water crashed directly over both of you. Jeff the Land Shark came sliding in at Mach 5, completely obliterating whatever shred of romantic tension was left in the atmosphere. The tiny shark burst out of his puddle, clapping his fins happily and barking at you for praise, thoroughly convinced he had successfully "helped" heal Parker and his favorite strategist to full health.
Parker was dripping wet. His cloak was soaked. His hair was plastered to his forehead in ridiculous, dripping strands. He stared at the clapping shark with a look of pure, murderous, cold-blooded betrayal.
"Oh, thank you, Jeff!" you giggled, completely oblivious to Parkers internal spiritual collapse as you wiped the water from your face and patted the sharks wet, rubbery head.
Parker tried. He really did. He wiped a stream of water from his eyes, pushing his wet hair out of his face, gritting his teeth, determined to salvage his move. He took a deep breath, wrung out his sodden sleeve, and stepped back into your personal space. He was a street-smart guy from New York; he could recover from a giant dragon and a land shark.
"Right. As I was saying, ma," Parker coughed, trying to look suave despite looking like a drowned rat but desperate to anchor you to him before anyone else interrupted. "You and me. Tonight. We shouldâ"
SHOOF.
Suddenly, the entire world went bright blue and transparent. A thick, impenetrable forcefield materialized directly between Parkers face and your body. Because he was leaning in so intensely close, his nose smacked hard against the hard-light barrier with a pathetic, rubbery squeak.
"Dont worry, teammates! You are safe inside my sphere!" Sue Storms voice echoed cheerfully from a few yards away as she floated past, completely capping the objective and enveloping you in her massive, protective bubble.
Parker was left standing entirely on the outside, his face pressed flat against the blue energy wall like a sad puppy looking through a pet store window. He could see you laughing on the other side, completely safe, warm, and dry, waving happily at Sue.
The dark energy of his cloak suddenly flared to life, burning a bright, angry, frustrated purple. He pulled out his twin pistols, his face a mask of comedic, furious disbelief. He slid his hands down the smooth barrier, a completely broken, defeated man.
Holy cockblock.
"I hate this team," Parker muttered miserably into the energy shield, his soul visibly leaving his body. "I swear to god, Im joining the villains next season.â
Pudding, listen! I was thinking about a reader/visitor who loves the X-Men so much, and only them, to the point of being protective and always praising them. I've seen something like that on your blog and I really liked the idea, so I came to ask. So, please do this for me? And maybe a few lines...
"Don't mess with my puppies!" Or something like,
"Mess with mutants and I'll make your world a living hell..."
So cute, right? Just to emphasize that their presence is very powerful.
Marvel Rivals Self-Aware AU: X-Heart (Heart for X)
By now, every member of the X-Men had become painfully aware that the Presence had an incredibly soft spot for them.
And if they hadn't realized it yetâwell, they catch on pretty easily.
"Great job, Jubilee! Let those sparkles fly!"Â Your delighted laughter echoed from somewhere far above as you guided Jubilee across the battlefield. She darted from teammate to teammate, fireworks bursting from her hands as every shimmering explosion restored the health of whoever needed it.
Naturally, the entire team consisted of X-Men. Cyclops and Magik served as the Duelists, Emma Frost and Rogue held the line as Vanguards, while Jubilee and Gambit kept everyone alive as Strategists.
"Not bad, petite," Remy complimented as he flicked another glowing card toward his wife. "Ya truly been gettin' da hang o' bein' a Strategist pretty quickly."
"Thanks, Remy." Jubilee smiled sheepishly before staring down at her own hands. "Though... I'm still not sure how any of this works. I mean... fireworks healing people?"
"So are explodin' cards healin' others." Remy shrugged as one of his cards bounced between allies before detonating in a harmless burst of restorative light. "But c'est la vie. We cannot blame da PrÊsence fer what dey believe are da best roles fer us in dis war."
"Gambit! Jubilee!" Cyclops' commanding voice cut through the battlefield. "Focus on the mission at hand!"
Scott spun on his heel and unleashed a devastating Optic Blast. The crimson beam carved across the objective, forcing the enemy team to scatter before they could capture the point.
"Yay! That's why I love you, Scott Summers! That was AWESOME!"Â The Presence practically squealed with delight.
Scott immediately frozeâhis visor tilted downward as he cleared his throat, the faintest blush creeping across his cheeks.
"...Jean may not appreciate hearing that," he muttered beneath his breath. Because, if he were being completely honest, a very small and very embarrassing part of him enjoyed the constant praise.
"That has never stopped certain people before." Emma's amused smirk appeared beside him almost instantly.
Scott sighed. "...Emma."
"What?" she asked innocently. "I said nothing."
Before Scott could answer, several enemy projectiles slammed directly into Emma.
Crystalline light erupted across her body as she instinctively shifted into Diamond Form, her expression hardening into one of absolute irritation.
"No! Don't mess with my puppies!"Â The Presence's outraged shout echoed across the map.
Every X-Man stopped. Even the enemies seemed to hesitate for the briefest moment.
"...Puppies?" Jubilee whispered.
Emma recovered first, the corners of her lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Oh?"
She then lunged and within seconds she had seized the unfortunate attacker by the throat with one diamond hand, effortlessly lifting him into the air before slamming him into the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious.
"Yay! I love you, Emma!" Just as quickly as your anger had appeared, it melted back into delighted excitement. They could even hear faint applause coming from somewhere beyond the sky. "Show them who's boss, Queen!"
Emma brushed imaginary dust from her shoulder.
"Yes, yes," she said with a thoroughly pleased smile. "I know. I am the best."
"Point's nearly ours!" Illyana shouted as a glowing stepping disc opened overhead. She emerged from the portal with her Soulsword already drawn. "Let's finish this!"
"Lead tha' way, sugah!" Rogue charged beside her without hesitation.
"BEHOLD... DARKCHYLD!"Â
Infernal energy erupted around Illyana as armor consumed her body and great demonic horns curled from her head.
The battlefield trembled beneath her advance. Enemies scattered in panic as the Darkchyld carved effortlessly through their defenses.
"Yeah! You go, Illy!"Â The Presence cheered with the same excitement as always.
Illyana faltered only for a heartbeat.
Almost no one ever celebrated this side of her. To most people, the Darkchyld represented corruption. Fear. The monster she constantly fought to keep buried. Even Illyana herself wasn't sure she liked this form.
Yet here the Presence was, cheering for her just as enthusiastically as they did every other version of herself. Not despite the Darkchyld, but because of her.
Warmth spread across her cheeks beneath the demonic armor, but she quickly shoved the feeling aside as there would be time to think about it later.
For now, there were still enemies left standing.
Meanwhile, Rogue had already surged ahead, draining the last remnants of strength from the opposing team while Gambit remained faithfully at her side.
"Rogue and Gambit..." The Presence sighed dreamily. "Truly a match made in Heaven. I hope I'll be just as lucky someday."
"We always were, sugah." Rogue laughed warmly. "We just didn't know it before."
Only moments later, the battlefield fell silent.
"Another epic victory! Big win!"Â Â Galacta's voice rang triumphantly across the arena.
But what truly caught their attention wasn't Galacta's announcement, but the joyful clapping, excited cheering, and utterly unabashed celebration coming from the Presence above.
"Yay!! I knew I could count on the X-Men!" You laughed happily. "That's why you're my favorite team ever! If only I could bring the whole team instead of being stuck with a six-player limit..."
The words alone were enough to make several of them smile.
They couldn't deny that fighting beside all of their friends and family again sounded wonderful. Even Scott smiled a little at the thought.
Then your tone changed.
"Mess with mutants..." Your voice became frighteningly calm. "And I'll make your world a living hell."
The sudden shift was so abrupt that every mutant instinctively looked upward, exchanging uneasy looks.Â
After all, none of them truly understood the extent of the Presence's power. So for all they knew, that wasn't an empty threat.
It was a promise.
"I mean..." Jubilee finally broke the silence. "So long as that doesn't extend to Namor... right?"
"Oui." Remy nodded immediately. "He may be a mutant, but dat don't mean he'll ever be an X-Man."
Scott coughed into his fist. "I'm... inclined to agree."
"I'll second that," Emma replied without hesitation.
"Third," Illyana deadpanned.
"Make that fourth," Rogue added with a grin.
More murmurs of agreement followed. Yes, as citizens of Krakoa, they all believed mutants deserved unity. They understood why they were expected to stand together.
That didn't mean any of them had to enjoy Namor's company. Not now. Not ever.
Besides...
They were perfectly content being the sole keepers of the Presence's heart.
I had been feeling like absolute shit last weekend and started a comfort fic, decided to share it. So I hope that you enjoy some one piece men caring for a stubborn sick reader. I tried to keep it genderless for the most part and vague for anyone to enjoy.
You get sick;
Synopsis: You wake up with your whole body sore, your head throbs, feeling nauseous and dizzy. You decide to take some medicine and continue about your day. However, your love finds you shivering like a chihuahua caught in a blizzard and sweating like a sinner in church. He's absolutely not going to just let you slide so easily for this one.
Crocodile đ:
Crocodile himself is in fact a workaholic. He's stubborn to his credit, and won't usually allow some flu bug stop him. However, that doesn't mean that he's willing to allow his love to put themself through that kind of self torment either. So when he found you slumped over your desk, shivering and practically snoring away, which you have never done, he grunted in disapproval. Gripping his cigar between his teeth as he reached over to brush the back of his hand over your sweat soaked forehead. His eyes widened only a fraction at just how hot your skin felt under his touch. You groaned weakly, leaning into the coolness of his rings that felt good on your boiling forehead. He sighed, letting out a puff of smoke slip past his lips like a disapproving dragon before he gently picked you up in one arm, stirring you awake. âHuh? Wha-? Oh⌠When did you get here, sir?â You asked, you couldnât remember falling asleep on your desk, drool pooling over the reports and contracts you had been assigning just a moment ago. Crocodile ignored your questions as he scooped you into his large arm and started carrying you back to his quarters. âSir?...Croccy?â You tried again weakly, a disapproving growl seemed to vibrate within his chest. âDonât start, you are being put on bed rest immediately until youâre well again. Direct orders, and if I catch you in your office while youâre in this state, you will be repremained. Do I make myself clear, my pet?â Crocodile growled which caused a different shiver down your spine. Which you wouldâve been tempted to follow itâs current if you didnât feel like such shit. âCroccy, honey, Iâm fine⌠really.â You tried before falling into a coughing fit, your throat dry and scratchy, Crocodile gave a sarcastic âMmmhmâ before laying you down into his bedding of luxurious furs and silks. You felt yourself quickly drifting off as he petted his large hand through your hair and soothing the pounding headache in your skull, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. The next time you wake you see a cup of tea prepared just the way you usually enjoy it on your sick days, a glass of water, a bowl of soup, and medicine on the nightstand with a note from Crocodile himself. âYou need something in your stomach before you take your medicine, be sure you do. I will come by to check on you periodically and if you do not have at least one dose down your gullet when I return your bed rest leave will lengthen its term. Get well, my love.â He acted all big and tough, but he was quite the softie underneath it all. Sighing, you knew he would follow through with his threats, so you relented to enjoying some soup and the smell of your caring boyfriendâs cologne permeated in the sheets. You took the medicine before slowly drifting off once more.
Buggy đ¤Ą:
You had woken up feeling as though your nose was clogged with pillows and your throat scratchy. You felt heavy in your limbs but knew that you had much work to do as the Big Topâs navigator. So you took whatever pain medication you had to hopefully get through the day and headed out to start charting courses and your daily chores. When Buggy came to ask you about the next course, and possibly tease you a bit, he found you in his office which he shared with only you.You had been, or trying to at least, chart the next course. Quill in your shaky hand as it looked like you were slowly starting to fall asleep standing up. You looked exhausted and sickly. He detached a hand to help prop you up for a moment as he came closer, corking your ink so it wouldnât spill all over the parchment you were working on, youâd really have his hide if you knew heâd let your precious ink spill all over your current project, and he knelt down allowing you to lean your weight against his shoulder. âHm? Buggs?â You hummed sleepily. âDamn baby doll, you look like shit.â He stated bluntly, you gave a weak almost amused snort at that. âThanks for stating the obvious, captain.â You grumbled, he smirked slightly at the witty comeback even in your state. âYeah well, part of my job. Why didnât you tell me you feel like shit?â Buggy asked you as he ran a gloved hand through your hair, you hummed leaning into the comforting sensations. âCause Iâm fine. Iâve handled much worse than a little cold.â You tried to insist, but Buggy would hear none of it. âNope. Nuh-uh, weâre not doing this today. The stars are not in position for this stubborn act.â Buggy told you as he scooped you up into his arms easily, you squeaked in surprise as he hauled you towards his quarters to set you into his bed. You tried to resist and tell him that you were fine, really, he didnât need to worry. But he was hearing none of this. He even threatened to parade you straight down to the doctorâs bay so that the rest of the crew would watch you being carried off there and back. That seemed to shut you up real quick. Buggy sent for the doctor and requested Cabaji to bring you something small from the kitchen while he settled you into bed. Alvida heard you werenât feeling well and came up with a bowl of cold water and some hot tea to help. The shipâs doctor gave you an examination before he prescribed you some medication and left his captain to handle the rest. âYou hear that? Bed rest until youâre actually feeling better. Not just doctorâs orders, but Captainâs orders too. Which means you actually have to rest. And if I catch you up and out of bed, I will tie you to it.â Buggy told you, you huffed at this before actually relenting. You knew heâd follow through with it. You did scrunch your nose though when it came to taking your medicine. But Buggy rewarded you with cuddles and many kisses to your head.
Sanji đŹ:
The only way youâd get up out of bed this morning is that Sanji somehow didnât notice your start of a fever when you woke. He wakes up very early to get breakfast prep done, so its possible he somehow missed it. You slept in a bit longer however, feeling like absolute hell. You tried to get up just as Sanji came in with a tray of breakfast and a bright smile on his face, which faltered as he noticed just how sickly you looked. âMon amour.â He quickly made his way to you, setting your tray down on the nightstand as he cupped your cheeks in his palms, sea blue eyes looking over you with concern. âYouâre sick, oh amour, how did I not notice sooner? You poor thing. Go on and lay back.â Sanji coaxed. âSanji, Iâm fine.â You croaked, trying to sound convincing, you didnât. âNo, no, none of that now. Lay back, thatâs it, good love. Iâm going to get Chopper, and you will not lift a finger. Today I am at your every beck and call.â Sanji commented, you wanted to protest, really you tried. But how could you when he fluffed your pillows and gently laid you back to rest in your bedding so gently? You were practically melting into his guiding touch before you even knew it. He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before he hurried off to get Chopper to examine you. His diagnoses, the common flu bug. So he gave you medication and doctorâs orders for plenty of bed rest. With Sanji there, ready to cave into your every desire, youâre sure to get the rest you are ordered, and then some.
Zoro âď¸đĄ:
Zoro knows you know your limits, but also knows you tend to push past your limits often for others. Something he admires and fell for you for, but it was also something that often drove him absolutely insane. At first when you got up this morning you felt a dry tickle in your throat and your body ached. You just thought it was a bad night with allergies. But it quickly divulged into a full blown fever. Not that youâd admit it. Oh but everyone can tell. Especially Zoro, whoâs kept an eye on you this whole morning instead of taking his naps. Being the silent protector that he was as Sanji fawned over how you looked miserable and should go to bed. You refused. Chopper insisted he examine you, you politely decline. Nami offered you some orange juice to help you feel better, you also decline that as you felt your throat couldnât take the sourness of the acidic juice. Zoro had finally had enough when you nearly fell over when the sunny hit a rocky wave. He immediately, quick as a flash, was at your side easily catching you. âOh, thanks rabbit.â You coo, a nickname you gave him, usually only used in softer moments, he grunted before picking you up. âChopper, you can make your diagnosis in my quarters, where Iâll be taking your patient. Come on froggy.â Zoro said, a slight tease in his words. You didnât have enough energy to argue, barely enough to shake your head as he picked you up in his large strong arms easily and carried you to his room. He laid you into his bed as you groaned and whined your protests but he wasnât about to hear any of it. The man was stubborn when he wanted to be, you could give him that much. âStop complaining, youâre on bed rest until Chopper here says youâre good to go.â Zoro stated. When Chopper was done with his diagnosis he prescribed you medicine and plenty of bed rest. Zoro had Sanji get you food and tea to take your medicine with, and when you finished, he laid behind you, wrapping his strong arms around you effectively locking you against his chest. You werenât going anywhere, heâd make sure of it. As he nuzzled his nose into the back of your neck and he slowly drifted off into sleep.
Katakuri đŠ:
You woke early to open your cafe bakery, something you often did, Katakuri had already gone for his meetings for the day which was a common occurrence you were used to with your husband. You felt heavy ache in your limbs and a scratch in your throat. Taking some pain medicine you pushed through it to head out. Your employees noticed right away something was off with you. âY/n, are you alright?â One of them asked, you nodded forcing a smile. But you looked sickly, everyone could tell. They all shared looks of concern. âWhy donât you go home deary? We have the shop handled for the day.â Another offered. âAnd leave you all to the afternoon rush? Absolutely not.â You tried to argue, but your voice croaked. âAt least take a rest in your office for a bit.â They argued, you sighed. You did need to finish up some paperwork after all. Sure. You headed to your office to do just that. And you shouldnât be handling the food anyways while sick. That much you knew. So you hold up in your office, for a while at least. But the words on the papers became blurry and before you knew it, you were knocked out on your desk. During that time, your employees called up your husband, knowing if anyone could convince you to go home and rest, it was him. He knew how stubborn you were. He came in through the mirror in your office and his features softened at the sight. Gently he picked you up into his large strong embrace. âOh sugar. You shouldâve stayed home if you felt this bad.â He cooed softly in your ear. You groaned at this, stirring in his hold before relaxing against his chest. âI didnât want you to worry so much. Didnât think it would get this badâŚâ You mumbled weakly. He huffed in amusement. âWhat am I going to do with you?â He asked affectionately as he carried you through the mirror world and back to your home. He told his assistant to cancel all of his plans today, you were his top priority. He then had the chefs make you some soup and tea to help you feel better as well as sent for one of the best doctors to come and examine you. You didnât have much energy to fight back. How could you when your husband absolutely knew your weaknesses of what would make you melt when you felt this bad. He'd gently massaged your legs as you both waited for the doctor. Who didnât take long to come and give his diagnosis, the common flu. He left medication to help fight off the bug, being sure to explain to Katakuri the best way to help you heal faster. Which meant plenty of rest, fluids, medicine, the usual. Rest was something you weren't good at. But with a husband who more than towered over most around him, and one so doting and loving at that. It would be like trying to shove off a particularly cuddly large mastiff. Impossible. And you, even if you wouldn't admit it out loud at the moment, wouldn't have it any other way.
across the countertop, crocodile watches you prepare dinner. he's been sitting there for too long, far more interested in what you're doing than you've ever seen before. he merely raises an eyebrow, eyes fixed on you, your reprimand doing nothing to deter him. he looks out of place, the image weirdly domestic for him; he stands out vividly against the backdrop of this kitchen that's usually a calm space for you.
"i never saw you cook in alabasta," he says as you toss colorful vegetables in a frying pan.
"i never had the chance to."
quiet hangs between you, somehow overshadowing the constant sizzle and pop of cooking food. you shift, sprinkling the pan with seasoning, keeping your hands busy to avoid looking at him.
long suppressed feelings are ever-present these days, surfacing mercilessly since the day you saw him again; the day he refused to let you go again. you both know what happened in alabasta, there's no sense bringing it all up repeatedly.
the longer the silence drags on, the more your urge to break it grows, but he does it for you, "i didn't even know you could."
he looks nearly the same as always, but his gaze shifts away from you then, and you can tell that he regrets it in his own wayânever really having taken the time to know you the first time around. you held some blame for that too, though.
you haven't decided to forgive him yet, for the way things ended back then, but he makes it hard in moments like this; softer interactions that lay bare a little more of his true feelings than he intends.
"now you do." you look at him thenâreally look, taking time to scan his face and make note of his features. they've altered a bit, eyes more tired, lines and crinkles a bit more pronounced, but he's mostly unchanged. aside from the subtle fondness lingering in his gaze now. there's no telling whether it was there before or not, but if it was, he did a much better job of hiding it.
he shifts under your scrutiny and pulls out a cigar, lifting it to his lips until you stop him in his tracks with a sharp sound of protest, "not next to the food, are you crazy? take it outside if you need it that badly."
surprise laces through his expression for a split second, then he rolls his eyes and puts the cigar back into his pocket, a small grin perched on the corner of his mouth, "have it your way."
CW: A/B/O, yandere vibes (unsure if full blown yan yet), dub con (possible non-con I am so by the seat of my pants with this), rough sex, rough everything kind of, mdni
Chapter 2: Understanding
True to his word, the clown escorted you back to the island he apparently had as a base. You were less than surprised to see a series of massive circus tents everywhere, but you were impressed to see the sheer number of people gathered. The boat ride had been pleasant enough. Buggy got you water and snacks and went out of his way to either please you, or at least deter you from slapping the honk out of him a second time.
Buggy proclaimed loudly for everyone to stay back if they valued their lives. He danced and moved oddly around you, as though he could detach and reattach his body as he pleased, the big baggy red pajamas he was wearing, giving an illusion of him just being⌠kind of stretchy, instead. Youâd learned about devil fruits, and so you assumed it was something like that and left it be.
No strength in this world was going to make him less of a clown, so it was almost admirable that he seemed to lean into it so completely.
He walked you past the rows and rows of towering tents and into the one brick and mortar building you think existed on this island. It was, as the tents, massive. A veritable castle itself, and a building that would only be slightly out of place on the Red Line. If the gray stones had been marble, accented with gold, then it would fit right in.
Up the large, wide curved staircase, he took you to the second story. Thick luxurious carpet lined the long hall, and all manner of decorative armor sets and pictures hung from the walls. It was very much a castle, one reminiscent of centuries past. It would be painfully out of style on the Red Line, but there was something about it that was almost more regal than anything the Celestial dragons could hope for.
Almost like the ghost of a time when they actually were something more than hollow dolls, meandering around the Red Line to give the illusion of control.
Buggy stops in front of a large set of doors. The wood is imposing, the understated gold worked into the frames almost feels like reinforcement, instead of simple flourish, biting into the wood and holding it tightly in place. The knock from the clown echoes thunderously, at least as far as youâre concerned, the noise far too loud for the somber silence that laid heavily against your shoulders.
âCome in.â The words are curt, clear, deep. Something prickles at the back of your neck, but you arenât sure what to call it.
Buggy pushes the doors open with more ease than you expected, opening them up into a room that couldâve been a throne room, if not for the simple fact it was being used as an office.
The room was heavy, and dark. Not so dark that the details were lost in a gloom, but dark in a way that left you feeling like the furniture itself was consuming the light that spilled into the room. Leaving just enough for the man at the desk to work by.
Or maybe his will alone forced the light to survive in the room because it was useful to him.
The sight of the man was enough to pull the air from your blood for a second. Youâd never had an emotional response toward a human. Maybe it was because of how you had been raised, trapped and caged at a young age, the scent of your curse wafting from your arms at the tender age of 12. Maybe it was because the horrors of facing a heat by yourself, was etched into your bones, lines cracking from the weight of the demon that bit into them.
What were mere humans after that?
But you could understand why the clown deferred to this man. The scent of his room is filled with the scent of dry fruits, and rum-soaked leather. The smooth warmth of polished sand, and something that simmers beneath the surface. Like a predator waiting to strike.
âHere she is.â Buggy says. A declaration of a conversation that must have happened while you were in route.
Golden-amber eyes regard you with an irritating level of boredom, but the unspoken command is for you to step closer.
So you do.
Buggy leaves the room and closes the door behind him. You havenât seen someone make a hastier exit except when the Elders decided they wished to see you. A wise move for the guard assigned to escort you, and likely a wise move for the clown who found you.
âYour clothing marks you as an omega of the Red Line,â he says matter-of-factly. A deep scar runs across his face, and you wonder if thatâs why Buggy calls him Crocodile. The stitch scars give it a look of crocodile teeth in a horrid kind of smile. âThe body paint makes me think youâre The Starling.â
âI am.â You answer, matching his tone. You werenât raised to even fear the Celestial Dragons, and it was only the meagerest of respects that caused you to defer to the Elders.
This man was neither.
â⌠You didnât run away from the Red Line. Tell me how you ended up in the new world?â He commands. You consider declining to answer his questions, but itâs not like being unnecessarily antagonistic was going to do you a lot of good.
âI did not succumb during my last heat, and my scent became unpleasant.â You explain, a bored expression on your face to match his irritated one. âI was sent to the new world to be restored.â
âAnd who is supposed to perform this miracle?â
âI was not informed.â You reply, trying not to bristle at the idea that you wouldnât be able to find a solution to your problem. âI expected to change ships many times, as omegas are often not left on a singular transport for any longer than required.â
There was a long silence between the two of you. Youâd said your piece and werenât going to prompt him for anything, but if he didnât speak again in another couple minutes, you were tempted to turn and leave. He wasnât even looking at you, his attention on the small mountain of paperwork he had been dealing with even before you arrived.
He hadnât killed you on the spot. He hadnât dared to touch you. He hadnât made any demands of you, and admittedly you hadnât spoken on any requests. But if he was just going to ignore you, you could be ignored in an empty room with a clean bed.
Turning you walked away from the desk and head toward the door. Itâs been a long day, and frankly a nap sounds divine. The bastard at the desk isnât speaking up and telling you to come back, so you pay him and his workaholism no mind.
When you put your hand on the door knob, a larger hand appears against the door. Save for the ring finger, all the fingers have fine rings upon them, and it seemed to be coming into existence from grains of sand.
The voice at your ear sends an ice cold chill down your back.
âI didnât say you could leave.â He grumbles, and you can hear the shifting of sand as he forms completely behind you. You turn and face him, and realize he isnât just imposing while heâs behind the desk, heâs tall to the point of towering over you.
âYou didnât say I had to stay.â You reply evenly, pushing back the few shivering nerves bubbling up in you. Heâs entirely too close, and most alphas werenât ever given leave to be so close to you, the smell is something youâre not used to at all. Itâs not offensive, but youâre irritated, and you donât want to like it.
He reaches out for you and you smack his hand away the same way you had Buggyâs. You would have hauled off and smacked him as well, but there was something in the way that his eyes narrowed that stops you.
âDo not touch me.â You assert. âOnly omegas are allowed to-ah!â Crocodile grabs both your wrists so quickly you canât react. Pinning your hands over your head he nearly lifts you off your feet, holding you against the door. The hard, cold curve of the back of his hook forces you to look up at him.
It is not a gentle hold.
âThe gods of the Red Line may ignore the laws of men, and obey the decrees of the Elders,â he says, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes are stripping you bare. This isnât a conversation between equals. You are the prey, and he is the predator. âBut pirates heed only their own wills.â
Lowering his hook he snags the snug collar of your flimsy top with it, tugging enough to make you nervous, and managing to be so gentle that nothing rips. At least not yet.
âStay in here.â He commands.
âIâm⌠tired.â You manage to say, trying to neither acquiesce or defy him.
âThen sleep.â He says, pulling you away from the door and nearly dragging you toward the desk. Itâs everything you have to keep your feet under you and keep pace with his far longer strides. He walks past a bed you didnât notice when you first came in, tucked back in the darkest corner of the room, and pushes open a door.
He shoves you into a bathroom, and youâre happy to have kept yourself on your feet.
âClean that body paint off.â He commands. âIâm not going to have that disgusting slop staining my bed.â
âIâm-Iâm not sleeping in your bed.â You try to assert. âThereâs a hundred rooms in this castle, just let me-.â
âHave you bathed yourself before?â He interrupts and you can feel your face flush.
âI, yes, of course. Itâs⌠itâs been,â years, itâs been years. âA bit. Itâs not like one for-forgets.â You step back nervously as he steps into the bathroom with you. âAb-absolutely not.â
âYou keep talking as though you have any say in the matter.â Crocodile says coolly. âYou can strip yourself, or Iâll remove your garments myself.â
âI⌠I canât.â You admit. He raises a brow and you feel yourself heat up. âThe collars and cuffs require two or more hands to unclasp, and I canât reach the ones in the back.â
The ship you were on had several female beta marines who had been assigned âomegaâ status for the sake of tending to you on the ship. You imagine they hadnât survived the raid.
A rush of wind and sand kicks up in the room and you can hear and feel your clothing being ripped from you. He couldâve simply ripped it off you, but he seemed to have decided to slip sand between you and the clothing and tear it away from you. The most expensive silk lay in tatters on the ground around you, and the only mark on you was a little red against your wrists from the earlier interactions.
Crocodile starts the shower for you, and after being seemingly satisfied with the water temperature steps back, looking at you coldly.
âIf you miss any, Iâll wash you myself.â He warns, before turning and leaving you in the room. âIn cold water.â
"Oh no." They heard a small voice and gambit is immediately worried.
"What's wrong chèrie?"
"It's 2 Am..." another pause and then rustling, the presence is mumbling. "...if i go to bed now... and wake up at 5 I can get 3 hours of sleep. That should be enough for me to get to work. Then come back and sleep if off..." after a few minutes the presence fades leaving gambit worried.
"I guess even the presence needs sleep huh gambit?" Spidey says patting his shoulder sympathizing. "She didn't seem tired at all when she was Peni. I couldn't even tell."
Peni frowns "I didn't know she was tired...i would've told her to sleep."
"Aw petite, she'll be fine. Our presence is always fine. She'll be okay."
"You'll take care of her right gambit?" Peni grins as Gambit chuckled.
"I will. I'll make sure she's ok."
Mr fantastic nodds. "Gambit. You take care of her she seems to like you the most. Besides she's our only way out of this mess. Banner, Tony and I have been trying new inventions but nothing seems to stick."
Gambit just nods.
A few moments later the room lights up again.
"I could play one more round...let me see if anyone's on..." the presence voice is back and Gambit frowns.
"Non non non Chèrie. You going to bed"
After a few minutes everyone stops. The presence hasn't changed screens as they call it or played a match at all.
They hear a small snore and gambit just smiles. "We'll be here mon chèrie don't you worry your pretty little head."
A few hours later of the presence sleeping soundly Reed realizes the time must be when the presence wanted to wake up cause they hear a loud bang and a string of curses.
"I gotta get ready!" They hear shuffling and with that gambit just smiles as the presence is back. "I can't believe I left you on all night! I gotta work on that" they hear a tired sigh and a very cute "okay i love you buh bye~"
Which gets a laugh out of deadpool. Gambit is a lil jealous that he doesn't get her like deadpool does.
And with that the heroes and villians are left in the dark again. Gambit wonders what a presence considers as work. They don't hear from her for days and everyone gets a bit worried especially gambit. He's a bit more snappy and his hits are harder during spars.
"Don't worry about the presence gambit. They'll be back and loving you in no time." Logan reassures him with a laugh. "Wade says she's a fan of old cartoons. With that last reference."
"She quoted buttons and mindy! It was really cute, she's a fan of the classics! No wonder she's good at using me. She follows cartoon logic"
Gambit doesn't know what any of that means and it pisses him off even more, so he throws some cards deadpool's way
"But she likes you! Even the channing tatum you! She's a keeper gambit! You even got married in her tomadachi life island! She chose you over leon kennedy and that's not an easy thing to win that man is beautiful!"
Now gambit's embarrassed Wade's making fun of him again talking nonsense and gambit's not having that.
"No it's true buddy, she told me herself. Well told her cousin and I heard it. She loves you and all your cajun charm. I don't see the appeal when there's me and oh i dunno bucky barnes. But whatever, lady's got weird taste. She's even excited for you in the new movie, her only reason to see it" wade laughs "which is so weird cause if it wasn't for me you wouldn't even be in the mcu" and with that gambit's cards go boom and deadpool is eliminated. Only for him to come back
"I helped you get your lay-presence! And this is how you repay me!"
Marvel Rivals Self-Aware AU: Staying Up Late (With Gambit)
The heroes of the Timestream Entanglement were in the middle of yet another mission.
In fact, it was only one in a seemingly endless chain of consecutive battles. The Presence had been active for hours now, jumping from match to match without a single real break.Â
It had to be a new record. Whatever existed beyond the sky seemed determined to stay awake and help them for as long as possible.
This time, the Presence had chosen Gambit.
Under your careful control, Remy danced effortlessly across the battlefield. Cards flew from his fingertips with practiced elegance, exploding against enemies or bouncing toward allies to heal them.Â
Every movement was precise, almost graceful.
Despite knowing he was being controlled, Gambit had come to recognize the Presence's habits.
He had grown strangely fond of those little quirks. The little circles you absentmindedly walked while waiting for objectives. The unnecessary spins whenever a fight was over.
"Oh no."Â The tiny voice echoed from somewhere beyond the heavens.
Remy's smile disappeared instantly.
"What's wrong, chère?" he asked instinctively, even though he already knew you couldn't hear him.
"It's... 2 AM..."
Rustling.
"...If I go to bed now... and wake up at five... I'll get three hours of sleep."
More rustling.
"That should be enough to get through work. Then I'll come back and sleep it off..."
Remy's expression slowly fell.
Three hours? Only three?
A few moments later, the Presence faded away.
Like always, the world froze. The battlefield became perfectly still. The sky stopped moving.
Every hero and villain remained trapped in place, conscious but unable to move until the Presence returned.
"I guess even the Presence needs sleep, huh, Gambit?" Spider-Man said sympathetically. "She didn't seem tired at all when she was playing Peni earlier. I couldn't even tell."
Peni frowned. "I didn't know she was tired.I would've told her to go to bed."
Remy forced a grin. "Aw, petite. She'll be fine."
His smile remained. His eyes didn'tâ they kept drifting upward.
"She's always fine..." He repeated it more quietly. Mostly to convince himself.
Peni smiled hopefully. "You'll take care of her, right, Gambit?"
Remy chuckled. "I will. I'll make sure she's okay."
Nearby, Reed folded his arms thoughtfully. "Gambit."
Remy turned toward him.
"You should continue looking after her. Besides... she's currently our only connection to freedom." He glanced toward Bruce Banner and Tony Stark. "The three of us have been working on dozens of different escape methods."
Tony sighed. "Sixty-seven, actually."
"Seventy-two," Banner corrected automatically.
Reed nodded. "And none of them have worked."
Remy simply nodded, for he already knew.
A few moments later, the world lit back up and time resumed.
The frozen battle continued exactly where it had left off, indicating that the Presence had returned.
"I could play one more round..." The familiar voice yawned softly. "Let's see if anyone's online..."
"Non, non, non, chère." He wagged a finger at the sky. "You goin' ta bed."
Of course, you couldn't hear him. None of them believed you could.
Yet, somehow, whenever Gambit insisted on something strongly enoughâthe Presence always seemed to hesitate. Almost as though some tiny piece of his words reached wherever you truly lived.
Minutes passed where no one moved. But the mission never started.
And thenâ a tiny snore.
The entire battlefield dissolved into shimmering particles whenever a mission disappeared. And the heroes returned to their resting world.
Remy couldn't help smiling as relief settled over him.
"There ya go..." He tipped his bo staff over one shoulder. "We'll be here when ya wake up, mon chère. Don't you worry your pretty little head."
Hours later, the heroes quietly passed the time however they could.
Until a loud crash echoed from beyond reality. Immediately followed by a string of sleepy curses.
"I can't believe I left you on all night..." A tired sigh. "I gotta work on that..."
Then the sweetest little farewell drifted down from the heavens. "Okay... I love you. Buh-bye~"
Deadpool immediately burst into laughter. "Awww!"
Several heroes smiled. Even Logan smirked.
Remy however sighed quietly.
A tiny part of him couldn't help feeling jealous that Deadpool got to hear those little comments all the time. The rest of them rarely did.
As the days passed with no missions, no laughter, no awkward humming â nothing â Remy found himself staring at the sky more often than he'd ever admit.
Whatever "work" was, it must have been keeping the Presence busy.
His frustration began leaking into everything else.
His cards exploded harder during sparring sessions. His temper became shorter. His smile came less easily.
Logan eventually wandered over after another particularly rough training match.
"Don't worry about the Presence, Gambit." He folded his arms. "They'll come back. And they'll be loving you again in no time."
Remy raised an eyebrow. "What makes ya so sure?"
"Wade." Logan rolled his eyes. "He says she's a fan of old cartoons. That goodbye? Apparently it was some reference."
Deadpool immediately appeared out of nowhere.
"Buttons and Mindy!" He practically bounced with excitement. "She quoted Buttons and Mindy! It was adorable! She's got taste! No wonder she's good at playing me. She understands cartoon logic!"
"I have absolutely no idea what any of dat means. And honestly..." Remy pulled out another deck of cards. "It annoys me."
Three explosive cards flew toward Wadeâ but Deadpool cartwheeled between them effortlessly.
"But she likes yooou!" He sang while dodging another explosion. "Even the Channing Tatum version of you! She's a keeper, Gambit! You two even got married on her Tomodachi Life island!"
Remy froze. "...Her what?"
"She picked you over Leon Kennedy!" Deadpool gasped dramatically. "And let me tell youâthat is NOT an easy competition. That man is gorgeous."
Now Remy was thoroughly convinced Wade was making everything up.
"No, seriously!" Deadpool insisted. "She told me herself! Well, she told her cousin. And I overheard. So basically she told me."
He nodded proudly. "She loves all that Cajun charm. I don't get it, especially when she's got me. And Barnes. And Spider-Man. Just so many fantastic options. But nope, she picked the guy with the exploding poker cards."
Remy could actually feel his ears beginning to burn.
"Oh!" Deadpool snapped his fingers. "And she's ridiculously excited to see you in the new movie Apparently you're the whole reason she's planning to watch it."
"Which is hilarious because if it wasn't for me," He proudly pointed both thumbs at himself. "You wouldn't even be in the MCU!"
BOOM. The exploding cards finally connected.
Deadpool vanished in a spectacular explosionâ only to get regenerated seconds later with a loud gasp.
"I HELPED YOU GET YOUR LAY-PRESENCE!" Wade cried dramatically, clutching his chest. "And THIS is how you repay me?!"
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