Cone of Shame
Commission for @kazieai
Marco x fem!reader
Summary: Marco never loses his cool. Ever. It's infuriating how he can maintain calm ALL THE TIME. Not your best idea, but you decide to try and change that.
CW: edging, forced orgasms, bondage, dom/sub play, misuse of Zoan fruits, humiliation, knotting, begging, cream pie, praise, mdni
He never reacts.
It drives you insane. He’s a wonderful partner, and a great pirate, but that constant cool appearance. Those hooded eyes. The chill way he deals with everything and everyone, is immensely frustrating.
The fact that Marco can be railing the soul from you and still look so completely in control is getting to you. You love it, in your own way, but also you want to see him flustered just once.
Maybe twice.
You’ve tried flirting with him in front of the crew, but he turns it on you every time. You’ve tried slipping in lewd one-liners during semi-appropriate moments, and he just rolls with it. You’ve set up little surprises for him in what you do, are or aren’t wearing, and while his appreciation is apparent, there’s never anything more.
Now, here you are, watching him as he stands on the high deck, handing out orders and answering questions for the commanders for the day. Haruta’s helping him pass things out, and there’s minimal questions - no surprise, the boys have been doing this for years, everyone knows their role. The ritual is just habit at this point, and when everyone meanders away, Marco will stay there and enjoy his coffee.
He’ll take in details about the weather, make some notes for the navigation folks that they probably won’t need, but that will be appreciated. Navigation can never have too much data, but there are some who think Atmos controls the weather on the grandline, his predictions are just that accurate.
You decide to take a walk around the upper decks and cool your irritation before you greet Marco for the day. It’s not his fault that you’re struggling with what you’re struggling with, and there’s nothing he can do anyway. If you tell him it’ll just put him on his guard, for starters, and if it doesn’t then he’ll be humoring you, and you aren’t sure which would be worse.
Instead of cooling, however, you realize your irritation is just growing with each step. Just once, just once, just ONCE - you want to catch him off guard just once. Make his eyes go wide with shock, cause him to suck in a breath between clenched teeth, or even just see the blood flush into his face.
Just once.
By the time you come back around to the front of the deck you don’t even care what causes the reaction. The only thing you want to avoid is anything that would truly harm him, or you. Even if he can heal anything you could do to him, it seemed wrong to risk life and limb for your frustrations. It was mischief that compelled you, not cruelty or anger.
Mischief.
He was leaning against the railing, looking out over the deck. Nothing about his appearance gave any indication that he’d noticed you coming up behind him. The coffee was safely on the rail. His shirt was crumpled up enough that there was nothing except those thin shorts covering that perfect ass of his.
If you bit him there, he’d at least jerk, right?
Stepping closer you imagine the look of surprise on his face, but even as you draw near you’re certain it’ll never work. He’ll turn around, or say your name in some warning tone - his observation haki was strong enough that catching him off guard was nearly impossible. That’s why you didn’t want to talk about things - there’d be no satisfaction if he knew.
No mischief.
You were too close to be stopped now, even if he was aware. You grab his sides and bite down on the meat of his ass in one movement. Whether you managed to tickle him, or just startle him, he was sure to make some sort of sound.
Oh boy, and does he ever make “some sort of sound”.
Marco makes the most undignified, impressively loud, and slightly avian, sound you have ever heard.
The dead silence on the ship is unsettling, and as you straighten up, you can clearly hear someone snort before the entire deck breaks into laughter. Looking up at Marco in disbelief, you feel the bravado drain from you when he turns toward you.
He looks pissed.
Not the kind of throw you over board, and make you clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a month kind of pissed, but more like exactly how you’d expect the second in command on an Emperor’s ship to look if you’d successfully managed to goose him in front of god and man. Never, in all the years you knew him, and certainly in none of the years you’d been with him, have you seen him so look scary while he was looking at you.
What you were feeling in the pit of your stomach was the heaviest lead ball of regret you could possibly imagine.
“She got you good brother!” Thatch yells, laughter in his voice. You really want to just cut his pompadour off at the moment, but he is also not wrong.
“I really thought you were gonna stop me.” You manage to say the words, but over the sounds of the crew you weren’t sure he even heard you.
“Hahahaha! A bird! He sounded like a bird!” Ace is gasping for air between bouts of laughter, and it would help your cause immensely if he’d just pass out.
“You’ve been irritated lately.” Marco says evenly. Quietly. For you only. “I was giving you privacy until you were ready to talk.”
… well, shit.
“A moment of silence,” Izou says, calming down the others. He puts his hands up to his mouth and speaks up even more. “Hang in there little flower, we’re all rooting for you!”
The round of laughter that follows is raunchier than earlier. You only hoped that whatever Marco decided for you, punishment wise, it was at least half as sexy as the crew figured it would be. Especially since, as he turns and grabs the scruff of your shirt, you’re pretty sure you might just be cleaning the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next month.
He takes you back to his room, what is quickly becoming your room as well, opening the door and nearly tossing you in. There’s just enough restraint in his actions that you didn’t go tumbling onto the floor or anything else.
Closing the door, Marco crosses his arms and leans against it. Straightening your clothes a bit you clear your throat and turn the desk chair around before sitting down. There’s a moment’s silence between you, neither of you apparently really sure where to start.
“Sorry,” you say after another moment.
Breathing in, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I know, yoi.” He admits. His irritation softens, the usual neutral look back on his face again. “What’s been on your mind lately, pretty bird?”
It’s your turn to make an awkward sound, the truth of it is so stupid in hindsight you really don’t want to say, but considering what happened, clarity is the very least Marco deserves.
“I was irritated… because you’re always so effortlessly in control.” You sigh, putting a hand up to keep him from speaking, so you can continue. “You never fluster, you never yelp, you never seem to lose your cool. Ever… And I’ve been stewing, like an idiot, for the last few days because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Putting your face in your hands you groan. “I tried to cool off, but when I came up behind you and you didn’t notice me, I just… gave in.”
A moment’s silence causes you to look up from your hands and Marco is red halfway down his neck. He’s got a hand over his face, and is trying to compose himself, but it doesn’t look like anger - he wouldn’t be avoiding looking at you like that if he was angry.
“Marco?” You’re hesitant, but he flinches before peeking over his hand at you. He wasn’t angry, he was embarrassed, more from what you’d said than the sound he made earlier. Though maybe that was only because he was so angry earlier.
“It’s… it takes a lot to control myself around you, yoi.” He admits after a moment. “Like flying in the eye of a storm, knowing if I slip too much I’ll get sucked in and lose control.”
Flames roll off his shoulders as he steps toward you. He looms over you, until you’re pinned between the chair and his body, leaning back until the chair tips and rests against the desk. Teal and gold flames are coiled around his arms, engulfing your vision in a swirl of colors. Though the dance of sparks in his irises are so mesmerizing you’re barely aware of the rest of his display.
“Every sweet word,” his husky voice drips against your skin. “Every mote of laughter,” his teeth nip the curve of your ear, lips pressing into your skin and pulling a shivered gasp from your lips. “Every time you bat your pretty little eyes at me,” you can hear the rush of flames billow through the room, his gaze holding onto yours.
“If I gave in, I’d want you either screaming in ecstasy, or recovering from it,” Marco presses a soft kiss against your forehead, “exhausted and babbling thanks as you fall asleep on me.” He explains, before tugging your hair with just enough force to part your lips so he could kiss you deeply.
The tug was hardly rough, and the thirsty kiss has you squirming in the chair, heat and need wriggling through you at the confession. You knew Marco loved you, the two of you had admitted your feelings a long time ago. But you always thought it was a quiet, almost sedated kind of passion - because nothing riled him up.
And since you were pretty sure Marco’s legendary stamina could easily lead to your unfortunate demise if he wasn’t careful, you had a deeper appreciation for his restraint all this time.
Breaking the kiss he leans back and you gasp for air. You’d simply forgotten to breathe once he grabbed your hair, and the rush of pleasure had scrambled your senses.
“Suh-Sorry,” you gasp, the deeper understanding making you regret deciding not to talk to him about it before you goosed him like that.
“Mm…” He looks down at you for a moment before turning away. He’s quiet for another minute before he speaks up again. His usual tone has returned, and you can see the shiver of flames slowly dying down as well.
“Get back to work for now, love.” He says evenly. “I’ll need a day or two to carve out enough time to properly punish you, yoi.” He turns toward you as he says this, his composure back on his face, save for a smile that promises a punishment equally feared and anticipated.
It took a couple days for Marco to carve out the time he wanted, and the wait just made it worse. Or better, you weren’t really sure. The crew ribbed you for your impending doom, and a few even brought you gifts - no one had heard Marco make a sound like that before.
You ended up with some extra bandages, salve for bruises and welts, and a set of healing and relaxing bath oils from Tate. Izou gifted you a bundle of toothbrushes, and told you to hang in there, but you were pretty sure you weren’t going to need them. If Marco only wanted you to scrub the bathrooms, you would’ve started on that already.
Every interaction with him was tense, at least for you. Marco was his same, calm, smooth, seemingly unflappable self. Almost as if he was proving a point.
Then one morning, as you woke tangled in his arms, the payback began.
He held you close in bed, nuzzled into your neck and pressing kisses into your skin. His hands wandered, carefully at first until you were awake and murmuring your good morning to him, and then more pointedly. Warm fingers slipped under your night clothes, moving you with ease, pulling soft sounds of pleasure from you.
His middle finger was rolling against your clit as his other fingers pinched and teased your nipple. Caught in the hold you wiggle against him, hand against the back of his head as the earlier soft kisses turned into heavier licks and nips against your neck.
“Mm, good morning, pretty bird.” He hums into your skin and you nod, putting your leg over his and opening your legs for him. “Greedy little thing,” his voice sinks into you as he pushes his fingers into your pussy, the heel of his hand still teasing your clit.
“Hnnngh, you’re gonna,” you gasp, as he twists your nipple a little more harshly. “Make me cum, please, please Marco.” Your hands are over his, your body shivering, hips rolling in his grasp. “Close, so c-close.”
“Listen to you,” he murmurs, continuing to drive you closer to the edge.
“Please, please, Marco, please!” You whine. Your heart’s starting to pound and you can feel how wet you are with every thrust of his fingers. “I’m gonna- gonna-!”
Marco pulls his hands away, pulling your pants down and lifting your shirt up. The action forces your arms up over your head, the night shirt muffling the whimper as he denies your orgasm.
“Such sweet sounds, pretty bird.” He says, the words sending a nervous thrill down your back as he pulls the shirt off entirely. He moves you onto your stomach, folding your arms behind your back and putting his weight on you to keep you pinned. “I think it’s only fair if the whole ship gets to hear you.”
“That’s…” Horrifically embarrassing, but you’re not as against it as you thought you’d be.
“Only fair, yeah?” He husks, the stiff bulge of his pants pressing into your wet slit. “Just your sounds, yoi. No one else will see you.” The soft kisses he puts on your shoulders and back are reassuring that he wouldn’t force you to do it. “Or we could stay in here, and I’ll just edge my lovely little bird,” he shifts his hips, forcing your legs wide as he presses against you heavily, “All. Day. Long.”
Heat rushing through you, you nod. “I… want to cum, please. E-even if everyone hears.”
A few minutes later you’re on your back, feet in the air, legs held open by rope. Marco’s secured your arms so that your hands are near your ears, but you can’t reach or cover anything. Your hips are tilted up enough he has access to everything - the position is embarrassing even if the only person who can see you is him.
After opening the nearby window, he pulls something from the closet. It takes you a moment to sort out what it is, but it’s a large cone with just enough curve to it that it can be near your mouth and pointed out the window at the same time.
“Took a couple days for Fossa to make this.” He explains with a grin. “Don’t turn away from it, pretty bird, I don’t want to have to secure your head like that.”
You nod, afraid to make a sound with the mouthpiece near you. Your whole body is flush with embarrassment, need, nerves, and desire. Marco’s hands on your legs pulls your attention back to him, the look on his face is promising that you won’t be able to stay quiet once he gets started.
Rubbing your legs, he presses careful kisses into your skin, starting at your ankles and working his way up your legs. It’s warm, sending the softest of pleasures into you. You try to focus on your breathing, not wanting to help Marco work you up, but there’s a shivering sigh that escapes you when his thumbs spread your labia.
The small sound is amplified by the cone, but it’s far too soft to be heard by anybody outside the room.
Marco’s tongue drags above your slit, millimeters away from actually touching you, but your eyes are glue to the act and your own mouth opens in response, tongue out, desperate for him to just devour you. Desperate for him to soak you in so much pleasure you aren’t able to worry about the cone by your mouth.
He presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, leaning down slowly until his thumbs stop spreading your labia now that his lips are keeping your clit where he wants it.
You can’t stop your cunt from throbbing, even as you fight to keep your body still. It doesn’t matter that he isn’t moving, the position, the pressure, the anticipation is going to ruin you before anything else. You already know you can’t win against this punishment. He’s entirely too skilled, and you’re entirely too willing.
There’s a split second of understanding before you nearly scream into the cone.
The initial shriek of surprise devolves into laughter as Marco has begun tickling you relentlessly. You’re tied down so well that no amount of thrashing is going to make him move his face away from your cunt. No movement you can make will move you far enough away from the cone to stop your uncontrolled laughter from blaring out onto the morning deck.
“Nnaaaaaaaagh! No! No-o-o-o-ahhhahahahahaha! Marco! MARCO! Hahahahaha!” Your laughter-filled begging has a few breaks as he lets you catch your breath before continuing. The screeching laughter isn’t helped by the knowledge that the entire fucking ship can hear you, but after a moment you realize it’s only half the problem.
You’re riding Marco’s face.
Your thrashing and struggling is letting him tease your clit without him even moving. The zings of pleasure are starting to cut their way through the tickling, and the first soft whimper from you is all he was waiting for.
Still tickling you, Marco begins to lick and suck your clit himself.
“Fuck, no, wait, guh-hahahahahaha! AH-HAHAHA! No! No! Marco! Hahahahahaha—hnnnnngh ♥!!” You thrash and moan and beg and shriek, but there’s no mercy given.
The most mercy you get is when he pushes two fingers into your vagina, leaving him only one hand to tickle you with.
Deep, husky, lascivious sounds are ripped from your throat, broken up only briefly by whined laughs, the tickling temporarily breaking your climb to an orgasm. Clipped laughs, and strained swears fall from your lips as pleasure begins to outpace the tickling.
“Please, please,” you gasp, body shivering on the edges of orgasm.
Marco leans over you, speaking near enough into the cone.
“Let them hear the sounds I make you make, yoi.” He growls as you nod.
“Yeah, yeah, please, please, Marco, please -!” Marco’s hand is against your throat, thumb by your lip, keeping your mouth pointed at the cone, as he hilts inside you in one smooth thrust.
The action stutters the breath in your lungs. The stretch, the fullness, the pleasure. You hadn’t realized how on edge everything had you until he started to move and spots danced in your vision. Teasing your breasts with his free hand, grinding his body into your clit almost constantly even as he thrust into you. The way he set your body on fire was unfair, and you came unraveled beneath him in seconds.
The desperate, lusty moan bubbles up your throat and out into the cone as your entire body tenses from pleasure. The ropes groan as your body thrashes for a completely different reason from earlier. He pulls every moan, plea, babble, and apology from your lips as he fucks you through the first orgasm.
A burst of flames and a shift from Macro, and his talons are against your throat as he’s turned a bit. You don’t see the other part of him that’s transformed, but you can feel it.
“Not-the-tongue!” You cry out as the bristle-tipped end of his long phoenix tongue flicks against your clit. “Fffff-uck!” You swear, the intense pleasure ripping into your muscles as he continues to ride you, forcing the first orgasm into a second one. “Please, please, gods, fuck, please, hnnnnnngh-ahhhh ♥!!” The pleasure rushes through you, and you sink into it.
It doesn’t matter who hears, it feels good, so good. Everything Marco does feels good, but the intensity this time has scrambled your senses. You know enough to know he shifts again, hands on your breasts, feet on the ground, the steady thrust of his cock building pleasure inside you.
“Look at me, pretty bird.” Marco commands, and even if your haze you look over at the sound of his voice, the clarity of his eyes holding onto your meager attention.
“Good girl.”
Fuck.
“Keep your eyes on me. There you go… now breathe in, nice and deep for me.” He directs you, taking in an exaggerated breath along with you.
Once your lungs are full he pushes the knot into your dripping pussy and the intense stretch, the deep place he hits inside you, are enough to hurl you off the edge again. The deep guttural sound echoing down the cone shook it almost as much as it shook you, but the orgasm was too bone deep to be accompanied by a sound as sweet and gentle as a cry. A pleasure so intense, it almost makes you feel sick with exhaustion.
Marco fills you up, the terse grunt from between his teeth lost in the primal sounds he’s forced from you. It might be petty of him to think so, but no one’s going to remember the noise he made on deck after this. You don’t need to know how he’ll keep you from getting teased too much, not that you’re worried about such things right now.
Moving the cone aside, he leans over you, barely moving his still-throbbing knotted cock. It’s enough to make you gasp, sucking in a shaky and exhausted breath from the sensation. Brushing sweaty hair away from your face he kisses your cheek tenderly.
“What’s your color, baby bird?” He questions softly.
“Yuh… yellow,” you gasp. “Need… need a minute…”
“Can I pull out, or?” You shake your head as vigorously as you can manage at the question and he chuckles softly. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay as still as I can. Take your time, love. You did a good job.”
“That was intense,” you sigh, a smile scrawled across your lips as he caresses your face.
“I was surprised I didn’t get a word of protest out of you, yoi.” He admits.
“You gave me a choice,” you remind him. “Besides, I really do feel bad.” Pressing your lips together you can feel your face heating up as he gives you a look. “I really didn’t expect that.”
“Mm. It’s never gonna happen again.” He asserts and you just bite your lower lip. “Pretty bird.”
You look away guiltily. “At least not in front of anyone else.”
“I’ll punish you every time.” He grumbles.
“That’s… not exactly the deterrent you want it to be.” You say honestly.
“Oh?” Marco’s eyes go wide for a second before he grins, leaning over you and slowly pushing himself in deeper. You whine a little, looking at him with a pleading expression. “Are you saying you want me to pin you down and fuck you senseless whenever,” he kisses your lips softly. “And however I want?”
His kisses slide down onto your neck. “Is my pretty bird saying she wants to be a sweet little obedient sub for me?”
“I dunno about all-ah-that.” You murmur, the words shivering out of you as he leaves heavier kisses against your neck, his teeth pressing against your skin. He’d never spoken to you so roughly before, but neither your ears, nor your thighs, seemed to mind.
His hips roll, shoving his hardening cock in deeper. The cold squelch of spend leaks out and slips down to your ass, making you gasp.
“You want to be a brat for me to tame then, hm?” He presses your face to the side, slowly beginning to move inside you, teeth sharper against your skin. “Maybe we could try training you, yoi.”
“Tra-training?” You squirm, toes flexing, fingers in need of something to hold onto.
“It would be sweet if a single word, whispered in your ear, brought you to your knees for me, yeah? Shivering and ready to sing just for me.”
You whimper, a trembling need rolling through your body. “I don’t know that, that, you’d nee-eeeeee-need that muh-much!” You cry out as Marco’s teeth sink into your skin, the sharp pain and dull pleasure buffeted by soothing flames.
He licks the bite mark on your skin, tongue trailing up the side of your neck until he’s nibbling on your ear, leaving you to pant and squirm beneath him. He gives your cheek a kiss and pulls out carefully, watching every twitch on your face until you’re empty.
“What was all that?” You question as he begins to slowly untie you.
“Hm?”
“We’ve… we’ve gotten all ropes and commands before, but you’re talking like… hardcore bdsm stuff.” You feel the heat rush to your face as you say it. You don’t know why it’s embarrassing to put it like that.
“Anything you’re curious about, pretty bird, and I’ll do what I can.” He kisses the inside of your thigh as he starts to undo your legs. “Full-on lifestyle’s a bit hard to do on the ship, especially with Pops as the captain, but if there’s anything you’re curious about, let me know.”
Undoing the last of your binds he massages your legs, making sure nothing was discolored or tingling.
“You don’t have to be a brat to get me to do this and more,” he clarifies, sliding up and snuggling with you on the bed.
“I’m just trying to sort out how you know so much about it.” You say, snuggling into him and letting him wrap his arms and legs around you. “Your experience seems… I don’t know, more than just something from saucy stories shared between crew mates.”
“Mm…” He clears his throat, running his hand through your hair. “We’ll say I’ve known a king or two in my life. Maybe one day I’ll even admit to one of them that they weren’t wrong, yoi.”
“About what, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Few things are better than having a sweet young thing falling apart beneath you.”