Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!
kiss
van augur x gn!reader
summary: Augur tends to get a little… too excited.
Blackbeard Pirates x Reader
Summary: reaction to their crush falling asleep on them
It's not what it looks like!
Caesar Clown x f!reader
Summary: The ship has taken on a few more guests, the overcrowded Straw-Hat vessel now struggling to accommodate the number. Offering your room to the prisoner, Caesar Clown, you returned to find a sight you were ill-prepared to meet. Caesar had found your secret, and had them over his nose and mouth while chasing his high into his gloved fist.
Sick with jealousy
Caesar Clown x gn!Reader
Summary: Caesar is so jealous that swears he gets sick.
Surprise! ... Or Not
Caesar Clown X Reader
Summary: He's just so attached to you for some reason, so it's hard to slip away and make him a gift...
Choke
Caesar Clown x Female Reader
Summary: You knew your taste in men was questionable at best, downright bad most of the time. But Caesar fucking Clown, now that was an all-time low, even for you.
Still, how could you resist the pretty scientist? It was truly an impossible task.
Caesar Clown x female reader headcanons
A Beauty And Her Reptilian: Chapter 1
Crocodile x fem!Reader
Starling
Alpha!Crocodile/Omega!Reader
Summary: You were the darling of the Red Line - The Starling. An untouched omega who endured the terrors of unassisted heats for the entertainment of the Celestial Dragons.
Until it finally breaks you.
Poor shattered bird, taken from your gilded cage. Just what will you find between the teeth of a Crocodile?
Beauty and Beast Effect
Crocodile x FemReader
Imagine Getting Baby Fever with Crocodile
fur & feathers
crocodile x afab!reader x donquixote doflamingo
Summary: You tried your hardest to stay out of their way this time. Unsurprisingly, you ended up sandwiched between them instead. (18+)
private party
donquixote doflamingo x afab!reader
Summary: It's too goddamn hot out, so Doflamingo surrenders his strength to join you in the pool. (18+)
Young Master
Doflamingo x afab!reader
summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much.
Doflamingo having a mommy kink
Soaked Sheets and Open Lines
King x reader
Summary: He answers a den den mushi mid fuck without stopping. You try to be good, quiet, obedient, but when his hand wraps around your throat and you moan involuntarily… the line goes silent.
Tobi Roppo x reader
Summary: Reader who’s got a service kink and is sorta with the crew but also just kinda the glory hole
Four encounters
Arlong x freed!slave Reader
Swimming with Sharks
Arlong x F!Reader
Under your Spell
Sun Pirate!Arlong x human!reader
get you some arlong
Arlong x Reader 18+
Saltwater and soft hands
Arlong x gn!human!Reader
Summary: Arlong, barely alive, is getting treatment of a HUMAN. He hates it. But oh, (g/n) Y/N has quite the soft– No, he can't break. Can he?
Summary: Arlong, barely alive, is getting treatment of a HUMAN. He hates it. But oh, (g/n) Y/N has quite the soft– No, he can't break. Can he?
Note: This request baffled me, but I understood...somehow? I don't know. I had fun writing it!
✦═════✦═════✦
The ocean wasn’t kind that night. It dragged what remained of Arlong’s broken body ashore like a piece of discarded driftwood, salt stinging deep into wounds that Luffy had carved open with fists and defiance. His crew had scattered like minnows in shark-filled water — the ones still alive, anyway.
The world had shrunk down to pain, and the smell of blood and brine.
And then it had the audacity to shrink even further — to you.
You, the only doctor on this sorry little speck of an island. A human. Fragile and unimpressive, standing over him with nothing but a worn-out bag of supplies and hands far too gentle for a creature like him.
He would’ve bared his teeth, would’ve lashed out with what little strength he had left. But even hate couldn’t override the need to survive.
And so your hands worked in silence, steady and sure despite the raw, jagged mess of him. You washed the salt from his wounds, cleaned away dirt and blood with soft cloths, your touch always careful — always patient. Not once did you flinch at the sharpness of his teeth, or the growl that rumbled weakly from his chest.
“Try not to move,” you murmured, voice low but kind. “You’ll tear the stitches.”
He stared at you, the hate still curled in his gut, coiled like the predator he’d always been. But the longer your fingers worked — binding, stitching, soothing — the more that hate blurred.
It wasn’t gone. Not entirely. But it was… quieter. Drowned out by something unfamiliar.
No human had ever treated him like this. No human had ever touched him without fear or malice, let alone with this much care.
You pressed a damp cloth to his brow, wiping away sweat as fever threatened to pull him under.
“There,” you whispered, thumb brushing over his rough skin. “You’re doing better than most would.”
The words weren’t meant to wound or belittle, but for some reason, they stung worse than any blade. Because you weren’t afraid. And worse — you weren’t pretending to be kind for your own gain.
You were just... kind.
And for the first time, Arlong didn’t quite know where to place all that hate.
The next day blurred into the next, time punctuated only by the sound of your voice telling him when to drink, when to eat, when to lie still. And though his body was slow to heal, something inside him shifted faster than his wounds ever could.
He caught himself watching you — how you moved around the room, how your lips pursed in thought as you prepared medicine, how your hands were always so careful even when you thought he wasn’t paying attention.
When he finally spoke, voice low and hoarse, it wasn’t to insult. Or threaten. It was quiet, almost foreign on his tongue.
“...Why?”
You looked up from the fresh bandage you were smoothing into place, blinking softly.
“Why what?”
“Why are you helping me.”
Your fingers stilled on his skin, resting lightly against the curve of his jaw — just for a second.
“Because someone had to,” you answered. “Hate... doesn’t heal anyone.”
And for once, Arlong didn’t argue. Couldn’t.
Because lying there under your soft hands, with your kindness seeping through the cracks in his pride, the hate didn’t feel so sharp anymore.
A day later, the sun hung heavy in the sky, burning down on the patch of land where you and Arlong had been stranded for what felt like weeks now. The worst of his wounds were closed, his strength coming back in slow, hesitant waves, but every time he moved too fast, the pain in his side would flare up, and he’d be forced to sit, seething in frustration.
You’d been checking on him that morning, offering him food — simple fish, carefully prepared — but his appetite had been spotty, and his temper even worse. He took the plate from you without a word, his gaze fixed far away, but you still noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed when you got too close.
“You’re gonna need more than that if you want to get back on your feet,” you said, pushing the plate a little closer. Your voice was light, teasing, like you didn’t notice how stiff he had become.
Arlong glanced at you, his lips curling into a scowl, though there was no heat in it this time.
“I don’t need your pity,” he growled, voice rougher than usual. “I didn’t ask for your help, human.”
Your fingers twitched, but you resisted the urge to snap back at him. Instead, you smiled, a little too knowingly.
“I’m not pitying you,” you replied, voice soft and steady. “You’re a fighter. You’re going to need your strength back if you’re going to get out of here.”
There it was again — the way you spoke, the way your eyes didn’t flinch from him. It was the same calm, unbothered kindness that had softened him bit by bit. And that irritated him more than anything. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to anyone treating him like he mattered beyond what he could offer.
He could feel the flutter of something in his chest, the familiar stirrings of discomfort, but he pushed it down as best he could.
“I’ll be fine,” he snapped, sitting up straighter, though his body groaned in protest. “I don’t need you hovering around me all the time. You’re just a human. You can’t fix everything.”
You blinked, surprised by his sudden outburst, but you didn’t take offense. Instead, you placed the food down beside him on the weathered wooden table and took a step back, giving him space.
“I never said I could fix everything,” you said gently, your tone far too calm for his liking. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself by trying to do it all on your own. You’re allowed to let others help you, Arlong.”
He flinched at your use of his name — the one thing that always seemed to make his defenses drop, even just a little. His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white against the rough wooden table, but he couldn’t look away from you.
You’d taken care of him. You’d helped him. And somehow, despite everything he hated about humans, he couldn’t bring himself to push you away completely.
“I don’t need your pity,” he repeated, but the words came out more strained this time, like they were for his own benefit more than yours.
You didn’t move. You didn’t argue. You just stood there, quietly waiting, watching him.
“I’m not pitying you,” you said again, this time with more certainty. “You’ve been through a lot. But you don’t have to carry it all alone. You’re... important.”
The weight of your words hung in the air between you both, thick and undeniable, and for a moment, it was just the sound of the waves, the breeze rustling through the trees, and the faint creak of the wooden boards underfoot. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t want to know how to respond to that.
For the first time since his defeat, Arlong felt... vulnerable. Not weak. But vulnerable in a way he couldn’t fight off. He turned his gaze away from you, gritting his teeth as if to push those feelings deep inside, where they couldn’t reach him.
“Stop being so soft,” he grumbled. “I don’t need your kindness.”
But the look in his eyes betrayed him. The way his jaw clenched, the way his gaze softened just before he turned away — he was a mess of conflicting feelings, and he hated it. Hated how your words sank into him, how he wanted to believe you but couldn’t allow himself to. He wasn’t supposed to need anyone. Not even you.
He stood up abruptly, wincing at the sharp pain in his side, but he ignored it, instead taking a few unsteady steps away from you.
“I’ll go. I don’t need you babysitting me anymore.” His tone was harsh, but there was an edge of uncertainty underneath — a small crack in his tough exterior. “I’ll do it on my own.”
You didn’t try to stop him. You simply nodded, watching him with that soft, patient smile — the same one you always gave him.
“Alright. But I’m still here if you need me, Arlong.”
And then, in a rare moment, Arlong’s resolve wavered.
He stopped in his tracks, his back turned to you. He didn’t speak at first, then muttered under his breath, “...You’re... too damn soft, human.”
You didn’t say anything, but you could hear the faintest shift in his voice. Something softer. Something... almost fond.
The island was quiet. The ocean’s constant rhythm was the only sound that seemed to fill the air, a reminder of the isolation you’d been left in.
Arlong had left days ago — you hadn’t seen him since that last argument. You had given him space, even let him go, because in the end, that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? He was a prideful, bitter creature, and you couldn’t force someone like him to stay.
So, you had learned to live with the silence once more. To keep your head down. To care only for yourself, though there were moments when you still thought of him — when you would wonder if he was alright, or if he had gotten far enough away from the island to find his next fight, his next battle.
You had decided to go for a walk along the beach today. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the water. It should have been peaceful, beautiful, like everything on this island had always been.
But instead, it felt strange. Like something was missing.
The thought lingered in your mind as you walked along the shoreline, your feet sinking into the warm sand. And then, you stepped on something sharp — a hidden rock or coral, you weren't sure. But it cut deep, a sharp pain shooting up your leg.
You yelped, stumbling back, but the damage had already been done. Blood quickly began to pool in the sand, crimson against the golden beach. You hissed in pain, clutching your foot, your breath shaky as the reality of your injury began to settle in.
“Shit,” you whispered to yourself, frustration welling up in your chest. You couldn’t even get a damn break. You needed help, but there was no one here.
The tide of panic started to rise in you, your head spinning with the realization that you were stranded — hurt and alone — and there was no one around to help. The ocean, the sun, the sand… none of it mattered if you were alone.
And then you heard it.
The unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. You froze, heart racing.
The shadows grew longer, and a figure emerged from the trees. Your heart skipped a beat. Arlong.
For a moment, you thought you were imagining things — surely he had left. Gone, out of your life. You didn’t want him to return. You didn’t need him to return.
But here he was, standing in the sand, looking down at you with a mix of annoyance and something else. Something you couldn’t quite place.
“Didn’t think you’d be this pathetic,” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the blood spreading on the sand. “How foolish can one human be?”
You bit your lip to hold back the tears. The pain in your foot was unbearable, and his words stung worse than the injury itself. “That doesn't help, I don't need your help,” you spat, trying to stand, but the dizziness hit you, and you collapsed back to the ground.
“You really think I’m going to help you now?” Arlong’s tone was mocking, but it was so much less biting than it used to be. You couldn’t understand why. He watched you struggle, eyes cold but not with the venom they usually held.
And then, a strange silence hung in the air. The kind that felt too heavy. Too real.
You closed your eyes, tears of frustration slipping from the corners of your eyes. You didn’t care if he mocked you. You didn’t care about his cruel words. You just wanted someone to help. Someone to… care.
But Arlong didn’t move. Not at first. Instead, he sniffed the air, eyes sharp.
His gaze flickered down to the blood — and then back to you.
And something shifted.
“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice barely audible as he cursed under his breath.
You heard him move toward you then, his large hand reaching down to grab your arm, his grip firm and surprisingly careful as he hauled you up.
“Get up,” he snapped, trying to sound like his usual intimidating self, but the way his hand trembled just a little betrayed him.
“I said I don’t need your help! Not like that.” you shot back, voice cracking as you tried to push him away. But the pain in your foot was overwhelming, and your attempts were weak at best.
Arlong didn’t say anything. He just huffed, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up without another word. His grip was strong, but the way he held you didn’t feel like he usually made you feel — like you were a nuisance to him. This time, it was different. There was something careful about the way his hands brushed against your side, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, his face still contorted with a mix of annoyance and something darker. He shifted you in his arms, his free hand reaching down to lift you more comfortably. “Hold on, human.”
Your heart hammered in your chest as you let him carry you, too exhausted from the pain to fight him anymore. You let your head fall against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body — that same strange, familiar warmth you’d come to dread and crave at the same time.
The journey back to the small hut you’d been using as shelter was silent, aside from the occasional grunt from Arlong as he carried you. His usual mocking demeanor was gone, replaced by a strange sense of determination. He didn’t stop to taunt you. He didn’t make a single comment about how pathetic you were.
When you arrived, he gently set you down on the bed, his hands still unusually gentle as he took a seat beside you. You were too dazed to argue, too stunned by his actions to even comprehend what was happening.
For a moment, he simply stared at you, his eyes scanning the wound on your foot. He reached into the bag for the supplies you had, but there was no ease to his movements. He was trying, but it was clumsy — too awkward. It was like he didn’t quite know how to treat an injury that wasn’t his own.
“I’m not good at this,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
You smiled weakly, despite the pain, feeling the known warmth spread in your chest. “I didn’t think you would.”
Arlong let out a low growl, clearly embarrassed. He gripped the cloth and carefully dabbed at the wound, trying to stop the bleeding with the kind of hesitance that made your heart swell in unexpected ways.
“Don’t go getting used to this, human,” he grumbled. “I’m just… not letting you die because you’re too stupid to look after yourself.”
But despite his harsh words, his touch was careful. Delicate, even. And when the last of the bandage was wrapped tightly around your foot, he let out a heavy sigh, like a weight had finally lifted from his shoulders.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, though his voice was soft, uncharacteristically tender. “Just don’t be an idiot next time.”
Arlong didn’t seem so much like a monster in that moment. He seemed… almost human.
The morning sun came in soft through the salt-scratched windows, the waves slow and lazy against the shore. It was too peaceful — too quiet.
You knew this day would come.
His wounds had long since healed. The bruises, the cuts, the battered pride — all stitched up, sealed away beneath muscle and sharp teeth. He was strong again. More than strong enough to walk away.
And now he stood at your doorway, tall and broad as ever, arms crossed over his chest, casting a shadow that blocked half the sun. He didn’t look at you when he spoke, his voice low and rough, as usual.
“I’m leaving.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than the heat of the sea breeze. You sat there on the steps, already dressed and trying so hard not to look as small as you felt.
You nodded once. “I figured.”
It should’ve hurt more, but the hurt had been simmering for days now. You’d long since accepted that whatever had grown between you would never be dressed up pretty. He was still Arlong. A shark with sharp teeth and sharper pride.
But there was a pause. A long one.
You looked up to see his golden eyes watching you, his mouth drawn into a tight line. There was something in the air between you, but neither of you tried to say it. You both knew it would only make it harder.
Instead, he stepped closer. His large hand dipped into the pocket of his worn-out coat, fingers brushing something inside. When he pulled it free, your brows lifted.
A necklace.
The pendant wasn’t fancy, not some glinting jewel or polished trinket. No, it was a simple, smoothed shard of sea glass — worn by the tides, the edges soft, the blue pale and faded like an old sky.
You barely had time to react before he leaned down, reaching for you with careful, if still clumsy hands. His fingers brushed the back of your neck as he fastened it around you.
“There,” he grunted, stepping back.
You blinked down at it, thumbing the sea glass.
“What’s this supposed to be?” you asked, your voice cracking just a little around the edges.
His mouth tugged into a small, crooked smirk. “Mark.”
“Mark?” you echoed.
“You’re mine. My crew, whether you know it or not.” His gaze was sharp, steady. “That way, everyone else will know it too.”
The words hit you harder than you expected, pulling your breath right out of your lungs.
Typical Arlong — no confession, no soft words, just a claim. As if he had any right to stake it. But you couldn’t stop the warmth blooming in your chest, spreading through your ribs like sunlight.
You looked away, smiling despite yourself. “That so? I don’t remember signing up.”
His lips twitched, the closest thing to tenderness you’d ever seen on him.
“You didn’t have to,” he rumbled, turning away and stepping down from the porch. “I don’t need your permission.”
His feet crunched against the sand as he moved, slow but steady, back toward the sea. You watched him, your fingers still curled around the cool sea glass at your chest.
At the edge of the beach, he paused — just once.
Without turning around, he called over his shoulder.
“You take care of yourself, human. I won’t be here to patch you up next time.”
And with that, he strode into the waves, the sea swallowing his silhouette until only the horizon remained.
But the necklace, resting against your skin, stayed.
Fun Fact: He's my favorite anime character of all time since childhood ♡
A/N: In my head, Nami exists, but I didn't include any headcanons about her younger self existing amongst them~
Developing feelings besides disdain or amusement towards a human was an unexpected nightmare for Arlong. While dismissing the initial interest in your appearance as an acknowledgement of a tasteful assortment of features, Arlong couldn't resist keeping you close. He always enjoyed pretty things; it only made sense to keep a human slave of the finest aesthetics.
His treatment of you began as surprisingly pleasant, albeit filled with looming fear at your captor's strength. With simple tasks to accomplish to make your master's day easier, you found your purpose was fulfilling and rewarded with easier attitudes than you had ever seen Fishmen express.
The power imbalance was not lost on either side, with you and the pirates of Arlong Park being acutely aware of your position in the crew. Your acknowledgement was followed by permission from Arlong to interact with you, and was often filled with requests you'd never be comfortable refusing. The only member who treated you as an equal was Hachi, and he was interesting to say the least, but not bad, you noted. He still gave you requests, but you theorized he simply followed what the others did and didn't realize the suedo-commands' full effect on you.
"If you could be any fish, what would you be?" The question startled you; prolonged silence between you and your overseeing master was the usual. Looking towards the brightened sky, you wondered for a split second why he was here, asking you questions versus partying, but quickly redirected yourself. You couldn't afford to waste time when it came to satisfying his wants. Looking up tentatively, you gave your answer, receiving a nod of approval in return. "I would prefer you as that, fits you," he huffed the last bit, the small breath of words working to reshape your idea of him.
His outbursts made you sink into yourself, too many times the target of his ridicule for nothing more than being human. Perhaps it would have happened anyway; you were never truly sure of the extent of his cruelty, having been kept away from their more gruesome excursions. The other fishmen retold tales of their violence, but Arlong always kept his mouth shut on the subject, even when eyes travelled to him in request for details, perhaps used to his boisterous nature.
You were adorned in fine things inspired by Arlong's own tastes in fashion. Earrings reflecting a time you had only heard whispers about pierced your ears a year into your servitude. It would be paired with a golden necklace, flexible and suitable for the water, probably coated in some way that the Fishmen were more familiar with.
You loved the water, often being able to bask in it between tasks or whilst amongst the crew. Arlong jokes about getting you a kiddie pool beside his throne, making you scowl, before he replaced the offer with one for an actual pool. Despite the nearby ocean and pool even nearer, big enough for their regular parties, Arlong offered you your own heated system, for seemingly no reason at all.
Getting pregnant with a member of Arlong's crew HCs
Warnings: some nsfw parts, pregnancy kink, lactation
Okay, I know it's pretty non-specific. But let's say you work in Arlong Park (you decided it's better to work for stronger side. Or you're just down bad), cooking, cleaning etc. You like to pass the time sneaking away with fishmen, at least those eager to sleep with a filthy human (actually... not a dealbreaker for most of them). And one day, well, the consequences catch you. You're pregnant. You probably don't know who's a father (unless you strictly sticked to one lover).
When you admit your pregnancy, some of the crew members are confused and unsure. Because, well, somehow sleeping with a human and having kids with them are two completely different matters. Some, the more orthodox ones, are outwardly unhappy and propose to get rid of it. But most of the fishmen cheer at the news, especially after Arlong hears about it and announces that it's just a sign of putting humans in their place. Not all must be killed, some may prove themselves by carrying a fishmen's kid.
Even if you don't know yet who the father is, it actually feels like it's a kid of the whole crew. Perhaps you will learn it after birth, when you see the kid's appearance. But that's not certain, if I understand One Piece wiki well, genes of fishmen and merpeople also can skip generations, and sometimes a kid has traits of their far ancestors, like, father looks like a salmon, but gets a shark kid, after their great-great-great-great-grandfather.
Anyway, that doesn't discourage the crew. A potential child isn't a common occurrence in Arlong's Park. Besides, most of them focus on life of piracy and have no stable family waiting for them somewhere. So, well, it's a new kind of entertainment. They will have a new lil fishman, and some of them are actually excited to play fathers and teach the child whatever they know.
I have no idea if they have a doctor on a board, but I suppose at least one of them knows something about medicine. If not, they can just kidnap a human doctor to check on you, just in case.
You still have to do your duties, life isn't that perfect, but they get a little lighter. At least you don't have to carry heavy weights for now.
When I thought about fishmen and pregnancy, I remembered Dothraki from ASOIAF. And I'm not saying they go as far as making you eat a raw horse heart, but some of them may still focus on your diet, like yeah, you need to eat more meat, more everything, some of their specials, to make sure you will give birth to a strong child.
Also, from what I heard, most human-fishmen offspring look more like humans, with only some mild fishmen traits kept, but I suppose there are exceptions as well. And it's clear from the start that it's better for you if the child gets their appearance after a father. Human-looking child... well, it would be a disappointment and you would be pretty much on your own with it, if you wouldn't let them get rid of it.
An idea I read in one of @ofallthingsnasty fics, and I still really like, is Arlong starting to call you a cow once you get pregnant. And some of the crew also catch on to it. Because, in some sense, humans are like cattle to fishmen. Well, not all the pirates think about you like that, but many still like the nickname, even if they use it playfully.
Once you get round and heavy, and you start to waddle, there start happening more jabs about "weak, slow humans". Well, to be honest, fishwomen also get heavier and slower while pregnant, but you don't know about this, and they won't waste an occasion for some funny jokes, right?
If you're still up for it, your lover(s) keep visiting you until the birth. They are still horny, with aching balls, and few other possibilities to relieve that. Besides, while most simply don't mind your rounded state, a few learn that they are actually deeply into it, and the sight of your pregnant belly gets them hard.
And once you start lactating, many want to taste your milk (you're their little cow after all). Which is a bit problematic, because great deal of fishmen have terribly sharp teeth, so you have to watch them carefully, making sure that they won't get carried away and bite your sore nipples.
When you give birth, to a healthy fishman baby of course, there is a big excitement in Arlong's Park. If you can guess the father from the kid's appearance, the new dad beams with pride and gets congratulations from others. But whether you know the specific father or not, there's a party that night to celebrate a new member of the group. For some reason, getting a child with you isn't "mixing with inferior race" or "mixing with filthy human blood" anymore (as a few fishmen whispered before). Now everyone views it as a proof of victory over humans, since you work for the crew and bear them children. And, to be honest, it's mostly seen just as a joyful day - for an evening, political discourse is forgotten, and there's only happiness about their growing pirate family.
Also... once you heal, they want you pregnant again. The previous time, it may have been an accident, but now they saw the possibilities, and they are very eager for you to bear more children. First pro: they get more fishmen for their ranks. Second: they just like seeing you pregnant. So forget about contraceptives. Maybe they will even make a challenge, who's gonna impregnate you this time (Arlong tries hard, because as a leader, he has a priority to pass the shark genes).
pairing: arlong x f!reader
tags: darkfic, noncon, facefucking, throatpie, fat reader, dead dove: do not eat, minors dni, one dick arlong
word count: 1.4k
prompt: “You think your father would still love you if he knew.” from this list, it just screamed Arlong. Feel free to send a character and a prompt from that list, if you want! Enjoy.
Arlong can be almost sweet behind closed doors, especially when you kneel in front of him, with his cock deep down your throat.
Webbed fingers caress the top of your head, a sign that you’re doing your job well.
If you didn’t, he’d make sure to show you - and the countless times he slapped your face with either his dick or an open hand have made you keenly aware of what is to his liking and what isn’t.
You lean into his touch and ease him deeper into you, making sure to flutter your eyes at his own. Nothing but a malicious smile greets you, sharp teeth glinting in the light.
Arlong loves seeing your absolutely ruined face - the more spit and tears and debauchery, the better. Sometimes he has you apply makeup only to watch it spill over your skin, creams and powders smeared by sheer force and your mixed bodily fluids.
There is nothing of that on your face today, yet he seems satisfied with your efforts, that small spark of amusement that you’ve come to chase dancing in his eyes. It’s the only thing saving you from another night as his footstool or, even worse, from having to serve alcohol to his crew.
Simply keeping your throat relaxed, spilling some tears and fighting the urge to puke all over his sandals is a million times better than kicks or sleeping on the floor. Even if it means having to endure one of his other quirks - the eternal monologues. He likes to hear himself talk.
As if on cue, Arlong sighs and leans back when you gag up another wad of saliva around his cock, taking one hand from your head to scratch his neck leisurely.
“Smart woman”, he says and sounds utterly pleased with himself. You try to steel yourself for another round of escalating insults. “You saw how much better we are than you and immediately knew to submit.”
Ah, his favorite topic.
He never fucks you without mentioning how inferior you are to him, never fucks you without talking himself into a frenzy about it. His asinine ramblings are just as much a part of defiling you as is treating you like a flesh toy and they leave you with hot ears and teary eyes every time. He knows how to twist his words just enough to make them hurt, no matter how often he re-uses his insults, recycles his phrases - they just find a way to worm themselves into your brain.
“I wish all humans were as perceptive as you, really.”
You don’t acknowledge him as you focus on softening your throat and catching breaths where you can. If you lose your pace now, get slower or don’t take him as deep, that terrifying hand is sure to remind you, even if he appears to be preoccupied with his talking. It’s all an act. A part of the same old dance and song.
“Such an obedient little whore”, he sighs above you, then he chuckles to himself. “Well, not so little, hm?”
You’re too focused on breathing to let that comment bother you - his crew is worse, groping and whistling at you whenever they catch a glimpse of you, beckoning you over, daring you to sit on their laps until your ass spills over. You’ve long since lost your name, being called their little cow instead.
“But that’s alright, that’s why I like you. Don’t break so easily, do you?”
Giant hands clasp the sides of your head until you feel like your temples are about to pop. Maybe your brains will simply burst out like the flesh of an overly ripe watermelon one of these days and it will all be over. Who knows with this tyrant; who knows if you’ll even see tomorrow? It’s such a bleak thought, but this is your existence now. Had been your fate ever since you came up short for the ridiculous taxes Arlong ordered from your people - in a way, you should be grateful that he didn’t shoot you in front of your village and most importantly, your poor, old father. Better this and a waning sliver of hope than a headstone, you figure.
“Hold still, sow”, he breathes out, just the tiniest bit labored.
Good, you think, entirely numb and obey. It means he’s close and you’ll probably be done for the day in a matter of minutes. Maybe you’ll even be allowed a shower later.
It’s not necessarily easier when he moves instead of you - because he doesn’t just fuck your face, he brutalizes it. It might be just a bit less exhausting for the muscles of your neck and shoulders, but the way he crams himself as deep as possible while setting a pace faster you could ever bop your head has you counting every second, clinging onto consciousness with wide eyes and snot bubbling out of your nose.
The sounds are obscene. Between the gurgling and glugging of your throat and the sharp slapping of his balls as they hit your chin with a heft you’ll feel for the rest of the night, you feel more like an animal than ever. He never holds back, no matter how many times he insists that you’re considerably weaker than him, how delicate you are despite your softness. You are simply cattle to him, something he owns and does with as he pleases. And you better take it.
“You think your father would still love you if he knew? Old man is probably sitting at home, twiddling his thumbs while I fuck his precious daughter’s mouth and defile her cow tits”, he rasps out eyes boring into yours. Arlong always gets the nastiest when he’s chasing his orgasm and mentioning your father is just as vile as it gets.
You gag around him but don’t look away, not even as the picture of your dad doing just that springs into your head.“Or maybe he realizes that this is for the best? That this is the place you belong?”
Arlong tips his head back and delivers a particularly brutal thrust to your face. Your hand flies up to at least give yourself the illusion of purchase but it gets shaken off his rapidly moving thigh. The only thing that isn’t being rattled is your skull, still framed by his hands.
“Underneath me, used by me, like the despicable sow you are. Maybe I’ll fuck some little bastards into you one day. You like the thought of that, do you? You live to serve, don’t you?”
He wheezes that last sentence out, the thought clearly arousing to him. It’s one of his favorites - claiming every last part of you, your womb included. And with the way he keeps fucking you almost every day, it won’t be too long until it becomes reality.
“I should fill you up so full you can barely walk and then parade you into town. Show peepaw his grandkids. Maybe I’ll let them play with him when they’re old enough. See if he survives.”
It’s too much. The sheer force, the lack of air, the fluids running out of every orifice, but worst of all, the way he keeps talking about your father.
The face you make must be ugly and desperate because he simply laughs, full-bellied and nasty.
It’s all he needs to take him over the edge.
Arlong crushes your nose against his coarse pubes, against his stomach as he groans. Not even a second passes and his cock is moving in your throat, filling you with loads of hot, terribly slimy cum. It feels as though he’s directly in your stomach, even though that is entirely impossible.
It takes everything in you not to struggle away from the iron grip on your head, even as your esophagus starts to jolt and as another wave of tears spills over.
He basks in the moment above you, jaw slack and eyes closed for once - only when you can’t help the ugly sobs that are building up between the bouts gagging, he finally pulls out.
A disgusting mix of saliva, mucus and semen follows in an amount that can only be described as ungodly. Arlong laughs at the way you retch it all out, a little breathless, but still not done with you.
In the very last act of domination, he uses his softening cock to spread the abysmal-smelling fluids all over your face and hair as you can only cry, entirely without shame.
He loves that, too.
And it’s the only time you’ll ever hear him utter something akin to tender.
“Good girl.”
Really, Arlong can be almost sweet behind closed doors. Almost.
Guys that can move you into whatever position they want and absolutely manhandle you because of the shear size difference and his strength
Like they can just push you down or pick you up and put you in whatever potion they want and even if you wanted to (we both know you don’t) you couldn’t do shit
Guys who can are halfway in and already pressed up against your cervix
Guys who have to bend down to kiss you but won’t half the time just to see you struggle on your tip toes
Guys who would flex there arms for you to feel and absolutely fawn over whenever you want because you know that they are yours
Guys who can come home and pick you up with no issues to bring you to the bedroom after a long day
Guys who eat three times more then you and never complain about cooking
Guys who you never get hit on when your with because everyone is scared they might get torn apart
Guys who can be so rough in bed but are really just gentle giants to you everywhere else it’s only you though
