ikintsugii

[ikintsugii]

why can't you like or reply to reblogs without making a whole new post •︵•

[ikintsugii]

That one cowboy au I'll never get to write because I can't think of a worthy plot, sigh

[ikintsugii]

—‷ BIRDY'S PICK ‴

CHAPTER 3: MEASURING SUMMARY: In a world full of pseudo fruits that could allow people to turn into pseudo omegas, Marco craves for a genuine one. It's not every day that the First Division Commander stakes distinct claim on anything, but when he yearns for something, it's all his. AO3: Birdy's Pick on AO3 CW: DUBCON, kidnapping, coercion, A/B/O dynamics, intimacy, vaginal sex, forced orgasms, praise kink, knotting, 18+ mdni NOTE: Please bear with me with the updates, my schedule doesn't give a lot of free time :( But thank you so much for the support and interest, it really does make a difference ♥ AND ALSO I DIDN'T GET TO SKETCH ANYTHING SPECIAL SO THAT UP THERE IS FILLER MARCO CHAPTERS: CH 1-Cravings, CH 2-Prepping, CH 3-Measuring

Bright. Startlingly so. Not to mention soft.

You stir gently, and you’re surprised when you don’t feel the lick of desire to sleep any longer. It sort of felt like you slept through days and caught up with the lack of rest from weeks of being constantly on edge. Compared to the crumbling surface of a rotting bed frame, this bed felt like a bundle of wool with a pillow that felt like it was stuffed with downy bird feathers.

The gentle sensation of the sheets against your now-softened skin reminded you of the everything shower you had the day prior. You felt clean, free of the weariness and tension that had clung to you like second skin. The light that peaked through the window was contrasting to the mornings when you’d wake up in a dark dingy cell.  A deep, satisfying breath fills your lungs for a moment. And the smell..

You haven’t smelled anything this pleasant in so long. Sweet, tropic, smoky in a way that didn’t really muddle the lighter tones.

Then, your eyes shoot up in realization.

At first you cursed yourself for opening them so quickly as you did and blinked away the drowsiness and the shock. As soon as your eyes adjusted, however, you’re quickly met by a sight you’ve never seen before.

It made your empty stomach swirl in an emotion that wasn’t exactly fear. You couldn’t exactly call it that when the first division commander to the Whitebeard pirates was sleeping so peacefully in front of you.

Golden locks were tussled even more so than usual, the striking eyes that always looked like they were too tired for anything were finally closed peacefully, while his chest rose gently as he snored. He was sleeping facing your direction with a proximity that had you breathing each other’s air.

You jolt up, simply staring at his peaceful face as if he could burn you from simply being nearby. You don’t know how long you sit there with your back is pressed right against the wall just.. watching him. After everything that happened the day before, you were conflicted in your opinion of him. Marco was frightening, but also aggresively affectionate. Physically demanding was a good one, or just demanding was honestly appropriate as well. You don’t know if you currently have the capacity to keep up with his demands. Physical, mental, or emotional.

You glance down at yourself to find that you were still very much exposed aside from Marco’s shirt. It sort of looked like you stole the shirt he was wearing because he was sleeping bare torso out. There were still a few discolored areas around your body, now mostly around your legs and ankles where shackles used to be. You gently ghosted your hand over the tender areas with a blank expression.

You weren’t exactly sure what to do next, whether you should go back to sleep or wake Marco up. You look around the bedroom instead to try and occupy yourself with anything else.

You must’ve made a sound, or maybe it was your heartbeat rattling the quiet air, because a low, sleepy voice cuts through the stillness like a lazy breeze.

“.. Already worked up so early in the morning, yoi.”

You flinch, eyes scrambling down to see that Marco had opened an eye and was staring at you.

“Good morning,” he murmured, acting like this was the most normal thing in the world. His voice was rough with sleep, low and raspy.

“G-Good morning, Marco.” You stammer in return, hoping that it was a good enough response from you.

He hums low in his throat, stretching just enough for the sheet to dip a little around his waist, revealing the sharp lines of his hipbone. You don’t know where to look, so you glance toward the porthole like it’s suddenly become fascinating. Heat blooms throughout your ears to the level of your shoulders.

“You woke up pretty early, I’m sure the culinary division is still prepping,” Marco hummed as he propped himself up on one elbow, his hair sticking out wildly in every direction. And yet, it suits him, mostly because it doesn’t change his usual appearance by much. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow, “Unless you’re starving? I can fetch a few fruits to sate you until call time.”

At the mention of food, your body instinctively reacts in interest. You press a palm over your stomach and feel the familiar rumble of hunger. Even then, you shook your head gently from side-to-side. “I’m okay for now, Marco.” In order to decrease the chance of you being reprimanded, you put effort into smiling at him.

You’re not sure if it’s working. He’s staring at you dead into your eyes with the unbearable silence from yesterday. Beat by beat your heart begins to gain a faster pace.

Your throat tightens, but before you can think or feel or breathe, there’s a sharp tug at your leg. The world spins.

You’re lying parallel to his own body, and the face that you’ve desperately attempted to place distance to was suddenly within inches of you.

You couldn’t help but stare at him as you process it but Marco pinched your cheek with enough force for you to go ‘ow ow’ before your thoughts could let you feel a lick of fear. Marco only hums, low and rough in his throat. His tone carries that lazy cadence, but it doesn't quite hide the irritation beneath.  “I don’t understand why you keep lying, yoi. I might see your perspective when it comes to the things we talked about yesterday but I don’t understand why you feel the need to lie about basic needs.”

You almost forgot about the very important bomb drop you did had he not mentioned it, you’re not exactly being allowed to linger on it with the way he’s crowding your attention with a pair of fingers pinching at you.

“If you’re hungry, you’re hungry. I don’t mind catering to your needs and I won’t punish you for relying on me.” He says in an unimpressed tone.

You struggle to move your lips from the way he was holding your face hostage. “Y-Yes Marco, but I-I really can wait until b-breakfast—ow—I don’t ha-ve an appetite..!”

It takes Marco a second before he relents on his hold. You cradle your stinging cheek, eyes watering a bit from the pinch, but more from the embarrassment burning in your chest.

“I’m setting some rules.” he says, not unkindly but with a firmness you know better than to dismiss. “But first, I have to ask important questions, and I want you to be completely honest with me,”

Your heart drops to your stomach, afraid of the word that was hanging at the tip of his otngue. 

”When was your last heat?”

Your eyes widen a little, your throat going dry. Your heat? What an unpleasant topic of conversation. Of course that would be one of the first questions, but even anticipating  that doesn’t make it any easier to talk about. 

“Way before they took me. They’ve been giving us synthetic medication to control our heat cycles as well..” Voice trembling, you could barely speak above a whisper.

“When do you usually have a heat?”

“Every..” You consider it for a second. Your heats haven’t exactly been consistent enough, but you could estimate. “..two months?”

“You’re not sure?’ He pressed in interest and you could only shake your head. You avert your eyes, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious in front of an alpha who has probably has had numerous ones before. “I-I’ve never.. had..” you trail off. ‘a partner.’

Instead of admiting that fact out loud, however, you began to retell the memory of how you came about them. “Our island had natural heat supressants that I could make into tea. In actuality, I don’t know how often I get heats because I’m very consistent with taking them. Tasted a little bitter but I got used to them over the years.” You smiled a little at the memory of your sister trying to make it taste more pleasant for you. Key word being try.

“Two months ago just happened to be a time I forgot to take them and..” Your tone withers again as you allow your eyelids to naturally flutter close, the rush of unpleasant memories were threatening to burst the dam of restraint you could manage.

When you looked back up to gauge Marco’s expression, you had already anticipated a few possibilities as to what his reaction was. Victory? Greasy interest? Instead, you only see that Marco suddenly had his palm over his face with his head tilted back, not making a single sound. Your heart begins to pound in the familiar beat of worry, leaving you wondering if you said something wrong once more.

“.. Did I say something wrong?” you ask softly.

“.. There aren’t many correct medicinal information about omega biology outside of Marie Geoise, even synthetics are barely worth a thing compared to naturals,” he began carefully as he slowly dragged his palm down. And once you got to see his face, it was his usual unmoving expression. “You must be pretty smart to be able to figure out a natural suppressant when the only things down here are synthetic.”

You quickly deny the misguided compliment once more. “No, I’m not smart or anything like that.. the herbs just smelled different. Muted? If I could describe it that way?”

Marco released a hum of interest. His eyebrows tilting up into an emotion you haven’t seen from him yet. Surprise? Interest?

“Even then, that’s some valuable knowledge, especially to a doctor such as myself.” He mused. He was a doctor? That explains the things he said about treatment plans. “I want to explore your senses in biology a bit more.”

And then, unexpectedly, his hand moves again, this time brushing lightly against your chin to tilt your face back toward his. His fingers are unexpectedly soft and the warmth of them anchors you. “Until then, I don’t want you to keep anything from me. Hunger, pain, joy, sadness, desire,” he emphasized, his tone dipping ever so slightly. “I’m not your enemy. I took you in so I’ll be taking care of you now.”

You nod slowly, unsure what else you could really do. Your heart is thundering again.

Then, as if the intensity never happened, Marco shifts under you again and reaches casually for the den den mushi that was on the bedside desk.

*Ka-chank*

“Thatch,” he mutters into it, voice still rough but a little less so this time. “Make that omelet an extra plate. We’re starting earlier than expected.”

You blink. “Marco—!”

“You’ll eat, or I’ll hand-feed you.”

*Ka-chank*

You go silent instantly. You really don’t want to test if he’s serious about that. He catches your expression and finally, finally, cracks a smirk. “Figured that’d do it, yoi.”

…

Even though Marco had given you the option earlier, apparently he just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hand feed you. You were still a fidgety thing after the heart-to-heart you had huddled in bed together. But it was alright, Marco wasn’t exactly expecting any permanent results when it came to your behavior.

He was sure you were still going through the motions of regulating your hormones, if the sudden mood swings from yesterday were anything to go by, the only thing he didn’t expect was for you to react so violently. He even triggered a panic attack by mistake, at least the rest you had was enough to give him a clean slate this morning.

The things you said about your heat was interesting, your herbal capabilities even more. There was an old myth about omegas and how because of the fact that they were natural carers, they had a sort of affinity to pharmaceuticals, culinary, herbalism, and etc. 

Marco watched intently as your lips reluctantly wrapped around the spoon he held out once more. Your visage was looking much better; your skin was still a little dull of course and there were still discolorations from minor bruising he hasn’t healed yet. There was still darkness under your eyes despite the lengthy amount of sleep you had. Thirteen hours was already more than half the day.

Aside from the obvious fact that you were now clean, it looked like a little more life was being fed into you with every bite of omelette. He was originally unsure of Thatch’s choice of breakfast, thinking that it was too much of a meal and a soup-based item would have suited your stomach more. And while you did resist at first, you scarved down one whole omelette after tasting a small piece without issue just as he suspected. He regulated the amount and time in between but you still ate each portion as if it’d be stolen from you if you were a second too slow.

 It made him wonder if your captors made you compete for filthy rations.

He could see your precious eyes form moisture under your lashes. You’ve said the words ‘delicious’ at least three times by now. By the third omelette, you were finally showing signs of slowing down, and went to nursing the tall glass of water he bought instead.

“I bought a bit of supplies. After your breakfast, I’m going to give you a check-up for your base vitals and ask a bit more questions. Heart rate, respiratory condition, medical history. That sort of thing.”

Marco watched as the contentment from the breakfast washed away from your face. Marco smelled something familiar in the air; the bitter fear from your scent was spiking. Your chewing slowed, and he was sure that he could hear your stomach gurgle in the dead silence as if it wanted to come back up.

Marco’s hand suddenly moves out of instinct, surprising even himself, to grab onto the hand that was resting on your thigh. You’re startled by the sudden contact but you don’t complain when the warmth from his larger palm envelops you. “I know it was an unpleasant experience for you,” he whispered carefully as his thumb slid over your knuckles. “But this is a necessary step, do you understand?”

The nod you gave was tight and short. He could hear you swallow harshly, probably forcing your stomach to settle in preparation. Your eyes flicked over Marco’s shoulder and found the box he had bought probably filled with the equipment he alluded to.

He gave your fingers a squeeze before putting away the plate he had fed you from, then reaching over to the first aid box he had set aside. All the while he doesn’t let go of your hand as he rummaged through and pulled out a few recognizable items. A stethoscope, a thermometer, and a sphygmomanometer. None of the items themselves elicited a strong reaction from you, thankfully.

Marco grabbed the stethoscope first, placed the ear pieces into his ears before raising its bell and pressing the diaphragm to your chest, tipping it down until he could hear your heart literally through the thin barrier. It was hard to focus when the warmth of your chest was right within literal reach, your skin was too soft to not be petted. The only thing that grounded him was the rate of your heart pounding into his ears; it was beating wildly and was clearly not your normal range.

He gave a small frown but didn’t say anything right away. With practiced calm, he shifted the stethoscope slightly to different points along your chest and listened intently. The cool metal sent a slight shiver across your skin and goose bumps formed. "Your heart rate's elevated," he stated even though it was an obvious observation, he didn’t exactly need a stethoscope to determine that you were nervous. "Let’s check the rest. We can come back to it later, yoi.”

So far you weren’t looking uncomfortable with the set-up, more so than before anyway, so he took it as a signal to keep going as planned. He wasn’t exactly hoping he’d have to restrain your for something as simple as this, but if push comes to shove and you misbehave, he won’t have a choice.

He clicked the cuff of a blood pressure monitor around your upper arm, tightened it with a few expert motions, and began pumping. The pressure built gradually, eliciting a pained wince from you but nothing else, then released with a soft hiss. His eyes stayed on the dial while he counted under his breath. “122 over 78. Not bad,” he muttered.

Looking back up at you, he wasn’t surprised to see that you were suddenly very interested in the porthole and the very empty sea. The way your jaw was slightly tensed was probably something to take note of. “Let’s just check your temperature and then we’re done.” He reached for a contactless thermometer with his only unoccupied hand and held it close to your forehead before waiting for the beep. "36.8 degrees. Normal."

Finally, he stepped back, sliding the stethoscope from around his neck and letting it hang loosely at his collarbone. “Vitals are steady, but of course your heart rate is still going too fast so we might need to wait.” You exhaled, finally feeling like the worst of the ordeal might be over.

Marco considered it for a moment, wondering if he should simply wait your nerves out.

But honestly, he has another idea in mind.

“Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

Your face shoots up quickly, eyes open and wild as you stared at Marco as if he had insulted your mother to your face. For a moment, you genuinely couldn’t tell if you had heard him wrong. Your lips open and close multiple times but no sound ever came out. What came out instead was a weak, “..a?” Your voice cracked on that single syllable.

Marco, naturally, was far too entertained by the reaction he’d gotten. He managed to put the tools away before you could even recover from your shock, his body moved further into the mattress which had dipped from the weight of his being. The space between you shrank by the inch as he shifted further onto the mattress, invading your side with slow confident intent.

You scrambled back instinctively, pressing your hands one over the other into the bed to try and gain some distance, but there was only so much mattress behind you before it gave way to nothing. You could feel the warmth radiating from him already, 

“You’ll be spending your next heat with me, yoi.” He whispered as if it was some secret right into your ear, sending goosebumps rushing all over your body. “I have reason to believe..” his voice no doubt made your head swirl in circles, made even worse by the proximity of his very being. ”.. that as soon as the synthetics wear off, you’ll have it. And as your alpha, I can’t leave you to suffer in good conscience.”

You could only blink at him as you took in what nonsense he was saying. Heat? Synthetics? Your?? Alpha???

“So I’m asking, have you touched yourself before? Brought yourself to orgasm?”

It looked like your body physically managed to catch up to you in the form of blood flushing into your cheeks, your ears–your entire face actually wow. You look down, lightly inching away from his face.

You did try once; made an attempt before during one of your first heats. Your body burned and pulsed with profound need that you had no idea how to satiate, your movements were awkward and unguided. You barely kept a consistent flow of pleasure before it would die with a pathetic sizzle, which made you feel even more needy. Education or even information on self-pleasure was never something that was discussed in the open. Of course, it was just as taboo of a topic as any other and is considered a pretty shameful topic to discuss.

But pirates? Shame was not exactly necessary in their vocabulary, or rather, it wasn’t necessary. Marco wasn’t exactly very conservative with his use of free will.

You gulp, “.. I have..”

Marco quirked an eyebrow. “And?”

Your lips press thin. “.. I-I couldn’t..”

You didn’t witness the wave of satisfaction that washed over his face. The subtle twitch at the corner of his lips that resulted from the understanding of your unsaid statement, the gleam in his eye that said, thought so. The elation that swelled inside him was unprecedented. His first omega was inexperienced in so many things he had years of proficiency in. His heart was actually racing in a different sort of rush that has never crossed his river before. It was exciting. As if this was a new sort of experience for him as well.

He wiped the excitement clean, coming back down to the normal amount appropriate for the occasion. “I could teach you a thing or two about how to get yourself off.” His tone still came off a little too chipper and teasing despite his great effort to remain level-headed. “Exploring your body would be good for you, it’s never too late to start learning, yoi.”

The alpha had successfully led your brain around in circles that you couldn’t remember which way to orient yourself again. “I-I don’t understand what this has to do wi-with the check-up!”

Humored, Marco huffed out a chuckle. “Well, for one, orgasms that are brought to the absolute pinnacle are followed by the most peaceful calms, yoi,” Marco stated with maddening ease as if it were common sense, and you’re almost beginning to believe it from how matter-of-fact he was. “It would do good for your heart to calm down, and this would be a good solution. But..”

The clinical tone lowered back down to a teasing whisper. Marco pressed into you a little more, basically crowding you against the wall behind you while his hand migrated over to your barely-clothed hip. The item rode up, basically exposing more of your naked leg into the air.

“.. that’s not exactly why you’re asking, is it?” If he moved in a little closer, his nose would have brushed against yours. You stared up at him as your heart raced–the very reason why this was happening int he first place–hands gripping the blanket beneath you like a lifeline. He was too close. There was something different about his scent as well and it was making things worse for your cognitive competence.

“What’s the matter?” Golden locks weaved over as Marco tilted his head to the side, his gaze burning through you as if he could read all of your thoughts. As if he could cearly see the reason why you were hesitating. “Do you find me unattractive, little dove?” He whispered, accused almost, gently squeezing your thigh. He knew it was a stupid question, an irrelevant one at that, and yet..

Your eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by the bold question. He could see you blank out before the rush of blood reaches your cheeks and your ears. Even though you haven’t said a word, your body was so expressive that he didn’t need to hear them to know the answer. Cute thing you were, pressing your palms q your face a few seconds too late to hide the flush from him.

“No, M-Marco..” You averted your entire body to the side, trying to escape his metaphorical prison.

Marco couldn’t help the happy quip of his lips from forming on his face, feeling victorious all of a sudden.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”

Actually, you very much were not. You weren’t resisting the idea because you thought that he was unattractive or even the fact that you found the shift from clinical check up to clinical masturbation to be very jarring. Instead, the hesitance came from the fact that you still had no idea who Marco was or what to feel about your situation. He’s been very attentive so far and if he was right about the schedule of your heat, which was honestly likely, you would need someone to help you.

Seas knows how terrible your heat would be without medication, medication you’re not sure they have or if they’ll even give some to you if they did. Thing is, were you desperate enough to allow Marco to be your first partner?

Marco was probably going to make sure the answer was yes.

A hand wrapped cleanly around your waist before yanking you up in one smooth motion as if you weighed nothing at all. The soft give of the mattress was replaced by the firm form of Marco’s body under you as you were situated right on his lap with his chest to your back. Marco was almost a few degrees higher than you, but you’re not sure if the sweat that was forming on the surface of your skin was from his heat or just embarrassment.

“We’r-re starting now?” You stammer, eyes wildly pin pointing all over the place following every movement possible.

Marco’s hand tightened slightly around your middle, keeping you in place when you shifted. “I’m nothing if not punctual. Wouldn’t want to delay proper care.” He mused as his hand raised up and pressed against your chest, feeling the steady but fast beat of your heart. He let you hear that beat in your eardrums for a second as if to drive that point in. He openly hushed you when you began to ask him questions.

“Shh,” he said, tilting his head so his lips were close to your ear now. “Listen.”

“Listen to your body, you need to calm down.” The only thing you could feel was the large expanse of his palm that was brushing over your breasts which was only veiled by a thin shirt. You gasp at how odd it felt. Whatever clinical value that he was preaching to you was lost to the sensation. “Now,” He prompted while his other hand slithered down to your legs, pushing them apart in a silent command to open both of them. “Listen to me.”

And you do. Actually, every sense you had was purely focused on Marco and his hands that seemed to be wrapping all around your body. 

“While your cunt is the most obvious point of pleasure, your body is very versatile. For example,” Marco’s fingertips gently encircled your nipple through the fabric of his shirt, making your body jerk violently from the sudden onslaught of unbridled pleasure.

Your brain scrambled for a second, ‘What–What was that?’ It felt different from the sensations that came from down below, from when you did it on your own. He was being gentle with his touches, and when he began to repeat the same motion over and over, your body began to buzz with a sensation you could only ever associate with your heat. But you couldn’t, right? It would be too sudden for you to suddenly come down with it. And it wouldn’t make any sense.

Sense all but threw itself out of the porthole when Marco licked a stripe up the shell of your sensitive ear. He breathed, “Or your ears.” Now the sensations tingled right up and into your brain. “Other people also find pleasure at the bottom of their feet, their waist, their throat.” The mention of the latter was accompanied by his lips trailing down your throat, brushing over your glands and the mot vulnerable spot of your neck. The point of contact for bonding bites.

You jerked forward at the sensation, gasping when his breath basically enveloped your neck and your sensitive glands. He wasn’t going to bite you, was he–!?

You don’t get to go far before a hand latched onto your neck, pulling you back to place his chest flush against you. Uninterrupted, Marco gave your nipple a firmer pinch at the movement as his form of punishment. You yelp as you claw at his hands. “Some find pleasure in pain, some find pleasure in inflicting pain, yoi.” The hand that was wrapped around your throat began to constrict, and you took in a generous breath of air instinctively.

“Pleasure could also be derived from different senses, or lack thereof. Breath play is a good example.”

You wanted to say that you didn’t understand, that you didn’t find any pleasure from the strange things he was doing to you, and that you wanted him to stop.

But your body just won’t allow you to. The way he was tweaking your breasts was making your body melt and his motions were gentle if not skilled. His body pressing against you was reminding you of just how big Marco was and not just in height. He was leaner than Thatch but he was still very sturdy and muscled in every way important. The fact that his words were spoken clinically, or were supposed to, didn’t take away the fact that what he was spilling is filthy.

Down below, the space between your thighs was aching, aching in the same way your body pulsed with need during your heats. They pressed together, rubbing, doing anything that could ease the growing discomfort.

“In fact,” Marco’s voice returned and you scamper slightly. Amusement was still clear in his words even though they were beginning to sound like he was underwater in your head. “You could reach an orgasm untouched, yoi. But let’s not get into that, we’ll focus on your technique for now.”

The hands that had been working your stiff nipples and threatening to cut off your air circulation suddenly disengaged, settling on your waist thereafter. The rush of more air gave your brain more energy to finally think and the lack of pleasure from his fingers cleared up any building fog in your head.

The pathetic whine that escaped your throat startled you. It wasn’t intentional because it was more reflex than anything. Your eyes widened slightly in alarm, and for a moment you didn’t recognize yourself. And it was enough to fully snap you out of the remainder of the state your brain was in.You whimpered again, quieter this time, and immediately felt the hot sting of shame crawl up your neck. Embarrassment tightened in your chest.

You don’t get to feel the full force of that shame however because Marco picked up your hands into his. Strangely enough, you feel a little grateful.

“Show me how you used to pleasure yourself.” Your eyes snap wildly up to Marco’s face, disbelief overwriting the shame. You traced his features in search for any trace of sarcasm or jest. When you don’t find what you’re looking for, your body simply burned with heat, reaching farther down your body until it licked at your shoulders.

Much to your surprise, a hand landed on your head and began to pet your hair back and away from your sweaty face. “No need to feel embarrassed. We're doing this for your best interest, we need to know where we're starting from.” You could feel something wrap around the underside junction of your leg, pulling them apart. The room air wisped over the open folds of your pussy.

You reached down your stomach, hesitating to place your hand anywhere before ultimately settling on your thighs. Admitting to masturbating and having little experience didn’t mean you were exactly looking to be an expert at it. You were originally contented to taking suppressants for the rest of your life.

You just need to get this over with.

Wet. You’re unexpectedly wet. You had no idea when your body began to feel aroused throughout this ordeal. As soon as your fingertips dipped along the lines of your walls the only sensation you could feel was the outcome of your arousal which was quickly cooling to the room’s temperature. 

For the next minute, you desperately attempt to replicate the moment that had already faded in the back of your memories. You had done it during a time where your heat and your body took the lead in hopes of satisfying what only an alpha could sate. It was wishful thinking and you knew that it something that was as difficult as finding a selfless pirate out in the seas. But at least you had something to guide you.

What you were doing right now was an exploration of your cunt at best, touching and prodding everywhere looking for something that you didn’t even know how to get to. Your fingers are moving along your clit while the other hand was desperately looking for the entrance of your hole, and when it eventually did, the pain from your fingers trying to enter was just too much. It was much easier when your hole was gushing with slick and anything and everything had the possibility to penetrate you.

Right now, however, even something as small as your index finger was refusing to go past the rim. It’s not just that it hurts, but it also came with the fear that it could happen in the first place. Sweat dripped down your temple, stirred by rising frustration and the worry that Marco was starting to lose patience. So you focused on your clit instead and you’re rewarded by small bursts of pleasure.

You swear you’re only ever becoming more agitated overtime. 

“Enough, yoi.”

You didn’t realize that tears had begun to slip through your eyelids up until Marco ran a thumb over your face. He took hold of your wrist and pulled it away from the space between your legs.

“The reason why I want you to learn is because you won’t be taking any suppressants from this day onwards.” Marco husked into your ear, made your breath stutter. “Then again, you won’t be needing to pleasure yourself when I am available to you.” Marco’s palms laid on your naked thighs, lightly riding up his own shirt as he moved them up and down your cold skin. “But here’s some advice anyway,”

Marco’s fingers were much larger than your own and it felt that way when they dipped in between your folds. He slid it along, collecting the wetness of your arousal. Your legs began to shake lightly when his fingertips found your clit easily.

“Instead of side to side, your clit would appreciate more circular motions.” To demonstrate, he began to move his fingers in circles. Your pussy immediately clamped down, muscles tensing in a way that was reminiscent of being struck by lightning. What what what? You struggled with grounding yourself in both meanings of the word, your hands despite being fithly hung onto his arms in instinct.

What-What was this feeling!? Your pussy was clenching uncontrollably and your thighs couldn’t stop from moving further and further apart. Wetness began to drip down your ass, making a mess of everything even further; a mess that Marco took full advantage of by spreading them all over his fingers.

“!!!”

He doesn’t let up, continuing to gently circle that little bundle of nerves with unfathomable precision. Your mouth gaped open as you released and inhaled small pockets of air. Your eyelids flutter, head thrown back when a tight knot suddenly formed in your stomach. Something you've never felt before. What was this?

“The wetter you are the better. You could press a little harder, it’ll feel better.” 

And that he did. He was right, this was a whole new level of sensation that even though it was overwhelming, you didn’t want it to stop. He wasn’t just circling it, he was also taking the time to vibrate his digits.

“HAH–!” All of a sudden you wanted to chase the high that he was talking about, to relieve the knot in your stomach—Seas it was as if a switch had flipped in your brain.

Marco couldn't take his eyes off your face, couldn't take his eyes off the way you so easily unravelled with a few tweaks in the right spot. The look in your eyes was a clear signal that he was losing you to the pleasure again. And honestly it was a precious sight. The way your lips moved as it grimaced or pressed together was tempting him to steal a kiss, but with the way things were going he feared you may actually pass out if he tried to steal your air.

The way your body moved on his lap was equally as difficult to ignore. Every little jolt you made went straight to his dick, and honestly the longer this went on, the harder it was for him to keep his cool. The fact that he could be knuckle deep in you right now was making it even worse.

“M-MARC—!” You actually began to huff and he was sure you were nearing your very short end.

His eyes then drops to the sight of your breasts that were begging for his attention. He doesn't hesitate to glide his palm over your stomach before settling back under the weight of your breasts. You don't seem to notice the new addition, still focused on his fingers that were teasing your desperate hole and sensitive clit.

“!!!”

Your thighs clamped around Marco’s hand, tight enough that it might actually have slowed his movements for s bit. It didn't hinder Marco from playing with your clit as you had intended, he continued to gently roll your nipples over the pads of his fingers. The noises that were flowing out of you were reminiscent of sobbing and moaning, and were almost drowned out the obscene wet noises from your pussy. You didn’t know your body could feel so good–you don’t want Marco to stop like he did earlier, if he did, you might actually break down crying.

“AHhhNGH! Some-someth-thing—!” You gasp, clawing even harder at Marco’s arms when the pleasure came rolling in in waves that didn't leave you with a lot of air to breathe. “Something’s co-coming..! I-I’M—!” When Marco’s fingers suddenly decide to angle itself a little higher on your clit, you swore you saw white. Your body suddenly stills all the while simultaneously losing yourself to the sensation, you could only continue to hold onto the man as he circles your clit a few more times to tease you. Marco suddenly breathed into your sensitive ear, lowly whispering a:

“Don’t hold it in.”

And your body seized, your mouth slacked open as your legs kick out 

What just happened? The thoughts repeated over and over in your head while your pussy continued to gush slick that was no doubt going to dirty not only the sheets but also the alpha below you.

“There we go,” Marco hummed in contentment. He doesn’t seem to care for the mess, instead encouraging and guiding you still to allow you to ride that high longer. An unappreciated action, you twitched violently and urged his hands away from your oversensitive pussy with a weak tug to his arms. Your muscles had all but melted into nothing as soon as he pulled away to settle on your thighs. “You did well but you’re clearly pent up, yoi.”

The peace that Marco had told you about was very real and it was quickly affecting your body. A calm unlike anything you’d known before was gently taking hold, loosening the tension in your muscles and completely emptying your brain from any thought.

“So, I’m sure you could handle one more, hm?”

Even through the thick haze of your slowly relaxing heart rate and the decreased amount of endorphins pumping through you wasn’t enough to completely take you out of the maw of pleasure. You look back down quickly, gasping, “Wait I-I don’t think I ca—c–can..!” The hands that were waiting on the tops of your thighs began to massage your thighs, spreading the wetness of your climax all over your skin as if it were a lubricant. You can only watch in vain when his hands dipped back down to palm over your pussy, petting you back to life.

Then your gaze snaps forward and to the wall adjacent to you. You could feel Marco below you now that you were finally more conscious of your surroundings. Hard. You were sat right on him. Anxiety, apprehension, dread, horror. Emotions that was expected from the revelation right under you, pressing into your backside were overruled by one thing.

Anticipation.

“Of course you can. This is hardly anything in comparison to your heat, isn’t it?” Was it? You can’t seem to recall at the moment when your body refused to focus on anything else other than Marco’s deft hands. The heel of his palm pressed over your clit while the ends of his digits circled all over your leaking hole. The juices from your orgasm made your cunt completely slick, making it easier for him to stroke you.

Just as panic began to rise from the idea of being taken right now, however, Marco leaned in and gently pressed his temple against yours, mirroring the quiet and intimate gesture he had done before. Conflict muddled your emotions. You didn’t know if you should be grateful that he was being kind. You still didn’t know how to feel about Marco.

The addictive sensations that had brought you to the precipice of pleasure were returning with every press of his palm. The tip of Marco’s finger pressed right against your tight entrance, taking a cautionary dip into you. It made your body shake in fear and anticipation of pain, and you were sure you were about to start crying again. You shut your eyes and braced your hands on his arms once more.

“P-Please be gentle..” You whimpered.

Marco slowly eased his longest finger inside you, relishing every centimeter he could put in, and you could only stare at his hand in befuddlement when you realized that it didn’t hurt at all. There was little to no resistance, and even less pain. Was it because he was skilled? Or because he was Marco? You didn’t know. The realization turned into pleasure again when the single digit began to press into spots that you never knew existed, brushing over walls that were almost too deep inside for you to believe.

When the base of his finger sat snug right against your entrance, Marco stopped, allowing you to feel the stretch and sensation of something being somewhere no one has ever gone save for yourself. You struggled, or at least you were having difficulty adjusting to the sensation from the way your entire body shook. Your juices were pushed out through your tight opening, leaking even more. Sweat dripped from your face, from your breasts, every inch of your skin was warm.

Marco tentatively pushed his finger a little deeper whilst also assessing your facial features. He continued and knocked right into a spot that made you jolt. Again, questions of curiosity began to ring through your head. This was a different sort of pleasure in a way, and you could already feel the addictive weight that was pulling you like gravity.

Marco was faring only slightly better, if not at all. The heat that wrapped around his single digit had his imagination run, specifically over the possibility of that same heat wrapping around his cock, and it wasn’t hard to imagine what that would feel like. You were so soft and warm, molding right around him just as he wanted to and just as he could. Ecstatic was too little of a word to describe how he felt about you.

“Oh?” He mused when he attempted to pull his finger back. “You’re sucking me back in, greedy thing, yoi.” Your response was a pathetic whimper as a response that didn’t really register his condescension. Your walls were clenching tightly around him, almost begging for him to stay inside. Cute, really too cute. He thought.

His finger pulled back, purposefully dragging through your pussy walls until the tip edged your opening. Then he pushed inside with a little more speed. “NGH-!” Your eyelids flutter once more, eyes dilating when his finger did it again and hit your sweet spot one more time. The diameter of his finger felt huge inside you and was grinding all over and it left the feeling like you were the one touching. 

Your pussy continued to flood with your arousal, continued to leak and gush whenever he fucked himself back inside. The sheets that were right under your feet began to feel ticklish and you had to hike them up into something less soft to decrease the stimulation from every sense that you could possibly feel. It was already bad enough that Marco was husking his words into your ears, your nose was smothered by his scent, your taste buds were salted over from all the sweat, your eyes saw nothing but debauchery, and your sense of touch—

Oh seas.

You’ve never felt anything like it before.

“M-M-Marco..! Feels..s.!” Your voice breaks with every whine and whimper that naturally came out.

“Feels?” He prompted unhelpfully through the wet shlick shlick from your pussy. “Tell your doctor how you feel, little dove, so that I know if I’m not thorough enough.”

Not thorough? You almost gasped at the understatement of the century. He was already discovering things about yourself you never even knew about. Fucking into you that made you see stars with a single finger. Does he mean to say he can do an even better job than this!? How is that possible!!

If this was all a finger was capable of then what would the real thing feel like?

“FEELS GOOD!” Your hips basically jumped from his lap when Marco found a particular spot that had your knees buckling even though you weren’t standing. He held you back down with a tight squeeze to your sensitive waist, almost like a small warning for attempting such a thing, but not before earning yourself a breathy hiss when you came back down.

“So honest, yoi.” The hand that squeezed your waist and had sent another sensation of pleasure trailed down over to your pelvis. You gasped when you felt his hips push into yours while he ground you back by pushing against your pussy. “And that’s good. Honest little doves get rewarded.” You could almost feel his smile from where you were looking.

The reward he was referring to wasn’t lost on you for long when your neglected clit was suddenly being enthusiastically stroked and played with; circling, flicking, vibrating. Your spine turned rigid immediately and arched from the tension, your hips unintentionally pushing up into his generous attention. The familiar knot in your stomach was forming fast and you couldn’t resist the build of pleasure at all. The added push made him increase his speed. 

The tight clench was a tell-tale sign. The longer the vibration and attention on your clit lasted the worse your physical self-control had become. Marco made sure to monopolize it.

“When you cum, thank me alright pretty bird?”

Your brain scrambled to make sense of what he had just demanded of you. You couldn’t ask why because the words wouldn’t come. Even your thoughts seemed to dissolve into static. And as if the heavens above came singing to you, your climax came barreling like a storm. Without another thought to consider, you simply opened your lips to repeat what Marco asked for:

“thANK YOU MARCOO—!”

Euphoria. This climax was almost close to violent. Marco gave you a few more harsh thrusts before stilling the hand that was fucking a finger inside you, but maintained the slow pace of the other around your nub. The overwhelming overstimulation had pushed you into a state of unrestrained crying again. That state of euphoria lasted for ten seconds too long, and by the time it ended, you were spent. Completely and absolutely.

Your handler said a few select words to you, something along the lines that was probably praise and the little nickname he had taken to calling you.

After that world-ending experience, it was as if everything in your surroundings had blurred into nothing in the background of your mind. You were slipping in and out of consciousness and the senses that had felt everything strongly all at once had suddenly dulled into a state of calm.

Ah, this was the peace Marco was talking about.

[ikintsugii]

I love how i scrambled to find my old Tumblr acc so I could experience ur thoughts and thirsts over some of my fav characters. After your Marco fic got me into several fits of latenight feet kicking and pillow screaming from pure peak marco writing itself. Lets just say i am deeply invested in whatever u post in the future. Hope that doesnt sound too cheesy but I just love what u do and hope u have a gread Day <3

AAAAAAAAAAAA HIHIHIHI

getting to read this during my lab time was such a pleasure, it took away so much of the bad vibes today that I actually managed to finish a chunk of the next chapter by the end of the period

deeply invested is crazy!! thank you so much for enjoying my work to that point!! I really do hope I get the chance to write more soon ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

(i should be able to post the next chapter in a few hours, i just need to edit a little more teehee)

[ikintsugii]

shooting me would have hurt less :( it's already bad enough Sabo is hinted to not liking his scars so pls kiss the bricks before you throw them at people

HOWEVER! i counter you with:

Sabo doesn't like his scars. But the fact that he looks like Ace, someone he could only ever see the best of, it makes seeing his reflection bearable. How could he hate himself knowing that his very existence is one of the strongest proof that Ace had never truly died? Who cares what the world thinks? Opinions doesn't matter to the man who is capable of bringing the heavens down to its knees

Handsome guys :)

I wanted to see how differently I draw Ace from Sabo, I make them look too similar unfortunately

[ikintsugii]

HIHIIII

—‷ BIRDY'S PICK ‴

CHAPTER 1: CRAVINGS SUMMARY: In a world full of pseudo fruits that could allow people to turn into pseudo omegas, Marco craves for a genuine one. It's not every day that the First Division Commander stakes distinct claim on anything, but when he yearns for something, it's all his. AO3: Birdy's Pick on AO3 CW: DUBCON, kidnapping, coercion, A/B/O dynamics, intimacy, vaginal sex, forced orgasms, praise kink, knotting, 18+ mdni NOTE: I figured it out ›¦) CHAPTERS: CH 1-Cravings, CH 2-Prepping,

     Chains rub together in a loud symphony of metal. They hit each other and click as its captives move at a consistent pace.

“Move it along!”

Though not at a good pace it seems.

The one in front of you yelped as her cuffs were pulled roughly, sending her crashing onto the floor. You managed to control the sudden jolt of the connected chains and barely remained on your feet. Her body shook at the impact, one so harsh there was the high chance she was going to gain a new bruise, but no protest nor complaint left her shut mouth as she stood right back onto her weak legs. Had she remained on the floor a second longer a new bruise wasn't all that she was going to get.

The man who had pulled at the cuffs sneered, refraining from inflicting any further punishment. “We're in a rush, damn tramps!” He shouted, loud enough that a couple of the people behind you had begun to cry in emotional distress. You were no better. After all, it was all hopeless.

After your capture and kidnapping three weeks ago, you had been subjected to cruelty you've never imagined before.

The warmth of the homemade meals you had no longer filled your stomach and you could only yearn when your eyes are closed. Now, your stomach churned at the mere thought of feeding time. Swallowing anything they gave you was more punishment than reward. Your tastebuds were dulling and you swore everything began to taste like the exact same thing.

The clothes you had worn have become dirtied and damaged, not having been replaced at all for all of those three weeks. Three weeks of neglect had twisted them beyond recognition, soaked through with sweat and the occasional spatter of blood, not all of it your own. You didn’t know whose. You didn’t want to know.

You had never seen the face of war or faced the dark side of life, never experienced real struggle outside the occasional illness or financial struggle. You had never fought anyone, never raised a fist in anger because you never had to, and yet now your body was marred with cuts and bruises from top to bottom.

You missed your siblings. You missed home terribly. You missed the petty little arguments and jabs. You missed agonizing over burnt pastries and failed recipes because feeling upset over them meant that you could do it again and feel joy in accomplishing something. And yet, every waking moment of your life in this hell felt like you were being mocked because one way or another, the end result was going to be the same.

You were going to be owned by someone. Your choices are no longer your own.

You lived in relative peace; isolated. It wasn’t a daily occurrence for you to be in the presence of other people long enough to acclimate to their second labels. Had you never stepped into the market that morning, none of this would’ve happened. You replayed that day again and again, wishing to find some fork in the road you could've avoided. You agonized over the details, the possibilities, the choices made for a simple supply run that day.

But you just couldn’t have known. None of your siblings stopped you because it was a normal day, you didn’t hesitate to leave because you were excited to try a new pastry, you lingered in town because you wanted to see what new dairy stock came from the merchant ships. You just couldn’t have done that day any different.

Alphas, betas, omegas, it had all just been labels to you, never something that meant much in your daily life. And yet, when that pair of kidnappers had grabbed you and drugged you, the first thing you had smelled aside from the chloroform was their pungent scents. They were no alphas, definitely betas.

The transition from no exposure to heavy scents to becoming absolutely covered in an amalgamation of random ones caused your body to create many unnatural reactions. It had frightened you, confused you; your body reacting in unfamiliar responses was an unwelcomed change; sudden flushes of heat, tremors, unexplained nausea. You had no anchor. No control. Each reaction terrified you because you didn’t know what your body was doing.

This experience was further worsened when you had been poked and prodded; assessed like livestock by the people who wanted to sell you. The elastic surface of their invasive hands lingered in your skin like disgusting bugs. They had paid particular attention to the space between your legs, your scent gland, your breasts, and your face.

“A real omega! It’s too bad we’re not allowed to smell her!” Their victorious laughter haunts you. "We're gonna be rich! How much will a Celestial Dragon buy her for!?"

Back in your hometown, there were many betas and only a handful of alphas. And even then they were an overwhelming presence. This percentage was true for all of the corners of the seas.

Omegas? Omegas were rare. They were a precious commodity.

Which was why there was a massive underground black market for them. In fact, there were two types of omega trafficking. The harder and much more precious type was the trafficking of real omegas and underground auctioning.

And the other was the production of pseudo devil fruit that could replicate omega qualities. Which would often than not be forcefully fed to unwilling victims. The side effects were tremendously frightening, with only a 5% chance the fruit would work as intended. And even then, it couldn't ever hope to replicate the true essence of an omega. Those who failed to gain those qualities would be subjected to any if not all: increased sensitivity, destroyed sense of coordination, uncontrollable emotions, uncontrollable mood swings, physical alterations of the endocrine and reproductive system, and many more.

The worst it could be would be the accumulation of them all, essentially overloading their bodies until they burn out completely: comatosing them. You had overheard enough to know that someone named Joker was behind these pseudo devil fruits.

“Oi! Be careful with the merchandise. These ones are top-grade!” Another one of the slave trader workers gets in the face of the first one before eventually descending into a petty screaming fight full of hands. The label shakes you violently to your core. Top-grade, they have been calling you that since they've taken you. The other four people who were bound together with you were also labeled as ‘top-grade’.

Word had traveled quickly after silence for two weeks, two weeks of nothing but eating and sleeping, news had spread amongst the rest of the slaves that the organization finally made a move and were arranging an underground auction in the New World. It was reminiscent of the walk criminals took when they're sentenced to the guillotine, the possibility of other people owning any one of you was basically a death sentence.

The seawater harshly hits against the hull of the pirate ship disguised as a simple sailor ship. It was a restless night even for the sea and the weather in the dark distant horizon held no well-meaning prospects for any sort of sailing currently. The slave traders seemed to be in a rush to set sail despite the fact.

A large hulking man is quick to hold onto the lead of the chain, the iron bite of the collar tugged you forward, forcing your body to stumble down the creaking, slick stairs of the ship’s deck. He barked something out, a mix of sentences that sound mumbled in your ears.

The lower deck hit you like a physical force. The air was rank; stagnant sweat, moldy wood, saltwater, and worse. Only a handful of weak lanterns glowed in the darkness, painting the space in a dim light that cast grotesque shadows across the walls. The space was only occupied by the muffled whimpering and crying echo throughout the space, the rows of sea-prism cages lined up against the ship's wall.

Groups of ten people were each crammed into each of the cells as you passed by. Gruesomely, there were many young faces and even more faces who were clearly feeling the bad effects of the pseudo omega fruits: fatigue, discomfort, disgust, fear. You could only force yourself to look away before the disgusting meal they had served you at dinner resurfaced back up.

The only empty cell left is pried open and locked once more after the five of you filter in.

As the footsteps of the large trader finally bound back upstairs, many of the muffled crying had finally unwound into sobbing.

A few stray hot tears roll down the skin of your cheeks, but you stubbornly bite down on your bottom lip to refrain from allowing your cries to leave your throat. The reality of your future prospects have finally settled in your gut. You had been hoping, praying, that the navy, or anyone really, would have seen this ‘loading of cargo’ and rescue you all. It was a fleeting thing, but it had at least given you a reason to keep going.

And yet here you are in a cage bound for Sabaody. 

You were afraid. So afraid.

Your body violently flinched when the man behind you falls slightly forward and grazes the skin of your arm. A gasp had left you just then, but it quickly died in your throat as you regard your companion on the floor. “P-Pau?” His name leaves your mouth pathetically. With hands hovering just beyond the possibility of touching his face, you wordlessly ask him to lift his face up to you. But he couldn’t. Droplets of tears began to drop onto the palm of your hands.

“Pau has the worst reaction to the fruit amongst us five,” Helen breathes out an observation. “T-The others in the other cells must be even worse..” No one speaks a word. The cries of the others confirm that statement.

You’ve had these pitiful conversations for more than a week, what needed to be discussed has already been done so, repeating them now at this particular moment was just salt in a deep infected wound.

Your jaw tightens at the mention of the fruit. Helen had just counted you as one of them and it imbued a deep sense of guilt inside you. 

You couldn’t bear to tell them that you hadn’t been given the fruit.

Even in this hell you all came together and formed a sense of companionship. You’ve grown to care for them just as they did with you. You told them about where you came from and they did too. Their origins had surprised you because not everyone was from the East, some of them were far in the other side of the world. Which only suggested that this whole organization was far-reaching and old if they managed to operate so casually.

You refrain from physically touching Pau but even without words, you were able to ascertain that he welcomed your contact. With your back against the damp ship wall, you guide him by his shoulders and settle his head on your chest. Carefully you slot his small figure in between your bound arms and wrap them around his shoulders to cradle him gently. He grunts and cries as you do so and he only responds by moving his own bound hands to the side where it doesn’t hit your waist.

Deep and calm vibrations rumble out from your chest, and Pau tenses for only a second before completely melting into your steady purring. You could feel your top half of clothing dampening from his tears. The traffickers may have suppressed your glands and urges but they couldn’t possibly snuff out your ability to comfort others. Purring was such a method, your siblings used to do it all the time for you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an inherent skill for anyone other than alphas and omegas. Even more not so for betas or alphas who were forced to become omegas.

The others had finally settled on the floor much like you and Pau had and joined the little pile you had made to listen to your purring. Eventually, you were draped over by the rest of them like a huge blanket and they held onto you as if you were a dying light in the middle of the void.

After the adrenaline from the move had finally subsided, the numb pain from the medicinal shots to your antecubital fossa begin to pulsate and twist, clawing up your arms and towards your hands. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see your hands tremble in pain.

You stare up at the dimly lit ceiling, your vision forcefully shifting the dark brown to what you remembered your hometown’s skies to be. Soft, cirrocumulus would float high up in the sky, extremely beyond your reach. The smell of the stale air shifts into the fresh breeze the sea blew in, salty and refreshing either way. You then began to stroke someone’s hair nearby your hands, attempting to imitate the warmth of your siblings’ embrace. 

The ship jumps to a shuddering start. It seems like they finally have everything to disembark.

The crying from the other prisoners had not ceased, only slightly drowned out by the thrashing of the sea’s waves. Your eyelids have become further weighed by your emotions and your fatigue. The warmth of the little cuddle pile was beginning to take you to the lull of sleep as well. But you persistently kept them open, you needed to keep comforting them until they all fell asleep.

It doesn’t take long before exhaustion takes you.

…

“Man, this is so scary.”

Thatch whispered with a heavy grimace on his face as another man is flung up to the height of the mainmast before falling hard on the hardwood deck, no longer moving. From death or from unconsciousness? No one was stepping up to check at the moment.

Ace couldn’t help but slowly allow his head to bob up and down in agreement, hissing as another man was thrown easily to the side with one arm, screaming all the while falling into the endless ocean. Filled with flesh-eating ocean life. Twice the size of the Moby Dick. Not to mention, it’s getting dark. So help from another ship would be highly unlikely.

“Hush you two,” Izou hissed from his spot in front of them, face impassive despite the gruesome scene in front of them. This sort of scene might not have been the worst the crew has seen per se, but it was an alarming one. Considering the fact that the only solution to this problem was miles away from their current position, if it even existed at all. “If he hears you, it’ll only worsen his mood.”

The ‘He’ they were referring to would be their very own First division commander, Marco, who was going through a line of people on their knees with an expression that was deceptively casual. The Whitebeard crew had just finished raiding a smaller pirate ship that had happened to be at the wrong place in the ocean, at the wrong time, and the wrong company. And right now, Marco the phoenix was picking through them like food, dismissing the ones who didn’t fit his liking.

Izou continued, “And if that happens, we won’t ever see the end of it. If he gets into his rutt without the proper mates he’ll come out of it even worse.”

Ace whistled low, still thinking back to the revelation he’s been told a few days before after witnessing the older man’s increasing levels of broodiness. “Marco’s stamina really is insane, I can’t believe he needs at least two people for his rutts. I mean, I’ve never heard of something like that before.” When he asked Thatch about it, he didn’t expect it to be connected to Marco’s rutt . He even entertained the idea that Marco was dying! Ace hasn’t gone through a violent rutt so he wouldn’t know.

"Well, expand your world view, kid. It’s pretty narrow and the sea’s wide.” The jab from Thatch has Ace immediately turning his head around with an indignant glare, one that the older man doesn’t humor. “But I get what you mean. I think the worst one was when Marco needed five people to satiate his rut. The only good part about it is that he always manages to get them to be willing by the time they start, which is probably more a testament to how charming Marco is than anything.”

Ace snorted at the word ‘charming’ as he leaned back on his elbows. It rolled around in his head for a second. He couldn’t really believe that when nothing about Marco is anything close to charming when he’s in a bad mood. He’s always got that scary ticked look that was made even worse by his physique that was as every bit as imposing as it was impressive. Scary, maybe. Terrifying, absolutely. Dangerous would’ve been even more fitting.

But if he thought about it—really thought about it—maybe attractive is more appropriate? A dominating alpha who knew his way in bed with strength and stamina to prove it would probably get anyone’s panty in a twist. It didn’t help that Marco was one of the best lovers on the ship, or so he’s been told by certain people.

Yeah, Ace nodded along, he could understand.

Another woman is flung to the side as Marco nears the end of the line. Ace compartmentalised those thoughts away for a moment as he whispered, “But this is just sad. How picky is he?”

Thatch shook his head with a sigh. “He isn’t. Marco doesn’t go through rutts often at all. I’d go as far to say that they’re pretty rare. As long as his partners got an agreeable personality, Marco is fine with ‘em.”

Ace could feel his facial features twist down in confusion. “Then why can’t we just ask some of the nurses? Pretty sure some of them would jump at the opportunity. I vaguely remember them having the hots for the first division comman—” Thatch knocked Ace over the head without restraint, creating a noise that vaguely sounds like Ace had nothing going up there. The younger man barely managed to bite down on his tongue before he could release a yelp that would have definitely interrupted Marco.

He turned to Thatch with an even fiercer glare, mouth opened up with a nasty snarl, and held up a fist that sparked to life in a very clear display to threaten. Thatch met the glare head-on with only a single eyebrow ticked down to show annoyance. “ Because that’s a rule Pops made years ago, probably before you were even born. No one touches the nurses unless it’s to pursue them in commitment, not some rut satiation.”

Ace blinked, momentarily thrown by the seriousness in Thatch’s voice. It wasn’t often the usually easygoing fourth division commander upped the seriousness of his tone.

“They’re betas, Ace,” Thatch continued, more steadily now. “Every single one of the nurses. That wasn’t an accident. Pops made sure of it.”

“…So?” Ace said slowly, still clearly not understanding.

“So,” Thatch snapped, “They don't feel the biological obligation to sate or fight alphas, which this crew has plenty of. They’re to be treated with a little more respect.”

Ace hummed in response, taking it in despite the simmering anger still in his system.

“Besides,” Thatch continued, his eyes still trained on the expanse of Marco’s back. ”With how things are turning out, it’s not guaranteed that Marco’s gonna like any of our nurses. He’s looking for something.”

One of the guests suddenly bolted from her position, barrelling through the deck with force that could have only been possible from adrenaline. She even had enough energy to push through some of their crewmates who had gathered as a crowd, built like bricks as they were. Marco wasn’t so bothered by her taking off, probably because he wasn’t interested in taking her either. But a single clean shot from Izou’s flintlock was enough to subdue the small ordeal. When did he draw that out?

As Izou tucked his flintlock back into the collar fold of his every day kimono, he didn’t need to signal anyone to have them already move the body off before the deck was stained with any more matter. The remainder of the opposing pirate crew didn’t attempt the same thing after, the only thing it managed to do was plummet the remaining morale and hope they had.

Ace began mumbling some of his own observations. “I guess this is just one of the prices to being an Apex alpha. Is that why they’re really only suited for omegas? Has he tried an omega partner before?”

Thatch was the one to answer again, his posture changing from stiff to more relaxed as he draped both of his arms over his legs. “If he did, I doubt he’dve let them go. When was the last time you’ve ever heard of an unclaimed omega?”

Ace actually tries to think back on it. Hearing of a real omega, period, might as well be as rare as the one piece. He doubted there was a single one back in East Blue. “.. Guess not.” He concluded, but then his thoughts drifted over to the the other sort of omega, the devil fruit-made sort. It wasn’t too much of a taboo topic, but not everyone agreed with allowing pseudo omegas to exist. More often than not the people who become one didn’t want to be one in the first place.

“What about, y’know, the pseudo omegas?” He asked, even though he already had an inkling of what he would say.

“To put it lightly,” Izou bluntly intercepted, “He said they smelled rank and their biologic senses were all over the place, he said they felt unnatural.”

“Wow.” The freckled young man breathed in disbelief. “And that’s putting it lightly?”

“Indeed.”

Marco stood over the last member of the pirate ship they had completely plundered. The blonde man was cowering on his knees, hands bound behind his back, and his forehead now pressed firmly against the floor of the ship as silent sobs escaped him. It was a sad display of fear and cowardice from an alpha, now stripped of all pretense, but even an alpha could see how unmatched he was in comparison, most especially now that his crew was gone.

He doesn’t believe he had any words to exchange with him. He didn’t even have the energy to ask him or his crewmates any other crucial questions. He flicked a single wrist in motion, and in a second he’d be joining the rest of his ship.

Marco recognized that he was being cruel and unnecessarily violent. There was no reason to be so hard on such a weak pirate crew, but a deep irritation that settled deep in the back of his head that was hard to scratch. It was making him think irrationally, move irrationally. The only way to scratch it was to find an appropriate partner with a pleasant smell. That’s how it always was during his rutts.

So why was he acting out right now? He didn’t know, and that was worse than any answer. Mostly because most of his decisions and actions were being driven by instinct. His very tightly-wound up instincts.

Nothing and nobody was satisfying his criteria, and he’s been so patient with himself and with the other people leading up to this point. The Whitebeard pirates had already gone through an entire island. From the brothels to the civilians, hell, Marco was desperate enough to sniff through the marines, to no avail. And now he’s just agitated by everything; the work, the lack of partners, his own body was working against him. Everything was pissing him off.

And currently, this single alpha by his feet was less than appealing. He hasn’t even crouched and yet he could already smell the hint of whiskey tinged with fear and despondence from his overrun scent glands. It immediately made his stomach churn.

He’s beginning to believe that sedating himself before the rutt happens might be the best solution.

“Marco,” Whitebeard’s grounding voice called out, knocking him out from another tizzy over a new course of action. The commander stopped mid-step before he could truly begin walking away, his spine all-too straight to be recognized as his usual relaxed posture. Despite the prickling from the deep agitation inside himself, Marco kept it together. He released a silent breath through his nose, and turned his body around to give his captain the respect he deserved. 

His hands slid into the pockets of his pants just so that it wouldn’t do anything without his knowing, his shoulders dropping into a lazy posture that didn't quite match his mood. “Yeah, Pops?”

The large man had been sitting on his spot during the entirety of the scene. Although there wasn’t judgement in his gaze, what was left was concern, arguably even worse for his current mood. He felt terrible for stressing the old man. “You can’t keep doing this forever. You’re burning yourself and your crew.” It was even worse when he’s being blunt about it.

He doesn’t let the comment phase him, he’s sure the crew can handle a little temper tantrum from him every now and then. But again, he understood he couldn’t extend this tantrum on forever. “I understand, yoi.” He does, he really does, but that doesn’t mean anything when the one making decisions wasn’t logic but instinct. “If I can’t figure it out on the next ship or island, I’ll probably sedate myself to get through it.”

The grimace on Whitebeard’s face showed how disapproving he was of the idea. Considering how their captain was an Apex alpha himself, he understood better than anyone how those instincts were probably killing Marco, theoretically of course, and the idea of having to sedate someone through a strong rutt sounded like a nightmare.

It wouldn’t be one shot, no. It’d have to take multiple shots of sedatives to get someone through an entire rutt. Even worse, they’d have to barricade him in his own room and continually send food to him in a safe way.

But what could Whitebeard say to that? No? It was already the best solution they have save for picking some people from the crew to help their division commander. Or well, it would be if only Marco himself wasn’t being selective with his options.

So instead, Whitebeard sighed. “The next ship it is then, boy. We can’t drift from our course because we’re already three days behind our schedule, understand?” And again, Marco obediently nodded his head, all the while sighing into himself over the possibilities of the options presented to himself, which wasn’t a lot.

The delay had been his fault. The schedule was set back because of his searching from the previous island trip, where he took time going through all the residents for a partner. It was probably proper that he suffered the consequences of his own obsessive searching.

That was a disaster.

“FISHING SHIP TO THE EAST!”

Marco felt the anger he had forcefully stamped down with his previous show of violence swell back up with tremendous power. It was sort of dizzying because of how sudden the shift was. All he could think about, however, was the fact that out of any sort of ship that could have appeared in the middle of the great grand oceans, in this specific stretch of the ocean, it had to be a fishing vessel? More often than not, a fishing vessel would be full of alphas and betas.

Okay.

Maybe Marco had been lying.

For a while, he did understand what was wrong with him, or rather, what he was looking for. And he knew why he was choosing to personally inspect each minor ship they came across, even the ones clearly beneath his notice.

An omega.

His instincts were screaming at him to find one no matter how impossible the chances were. And though it was a little shameful to be so picky with a partner when his past set-up romps worked well enough, his instincts were telling him there was nothing else in the entire seas he wanted more than that.

It’s been a festering desire for a month now, one that he thought about and attempted to satiate through more casual arrangements. But it was no use, because it wasn’t just the sexual satisfaction that he was looking for—what his entire being —was looking for. It was the scent, the intimacy, the instincts, the everything from an omega unparalleled by anything else.

Which was silly, Marco originally thought. How would he know that if he had never held an omega before? And yet here he is, obsessing, yearning, actively searching and destroying whatever kept him from one. Looks like he wouldn’t know until he finds out.

Marco bit back the growl bubbling up from his chest. Looks like he’s reserving himself to a rutt full of sedatives.

“Permission to board, cap?” Marco asked without turning. Whitebeard released a grunt that could only be translated to a ‘do whatever you want’.

“Looks like that’s our cue!” Their ever-energetic second division commander piped up from his spot on the deck, finally making a move to interact with Marco. He got up with his arms stretched above his head, his neck audibly cracking as he turned his neck in a circle. “I wanna stretch my legs, take striker out for a good spin.”

Marco began walking over to the east side of the Moby Dick, rotating his own shoulders in preparation for the flight that was about to take place. “It’ll just be a fishing vessel, yoi. It won’t be as exciting as you think.” He said in hopes of dissuading Ace from coming along. He wanted and could take the fishing vessel out with one strike, the wood and the metal would bend so easily. 

Ace coming along would mean he’d have to hold his urges. And Marco really wanted one thing to go his way at least once today.

“Maybe, maybe not.” The freckled alpha shook his head before looking back up with a glint in his eyes. “But think about it, what if they fished up something real good for lunch? I have to inspect every net!” Well, having a disappointed and hungry Ace on board is just as bad as a bridled Marco. And the crew had enough strong personalities to deal with as it was.

“Shouldn’t Thatch be the one to come with me then?” Marco haphazardly threw the idea out there.

“No thanks, Marco!” The fourth division commander immediately piped up from his unmoved spot by the inner circle of the deck. “I may be able to swim if you accidentally break the ship to pieces, but I can’t guarantee my own safety when you’re like this.” Thatch may not have intended it, but that statement was another jab at Marco’s weakening control over his emotions. A skill he’d mastered for over thirty years.

He felt a draft of wind pass over, and Marco took another breath to calm himself down again. “.. Alright, Ace.” He spoke in finality. “Take striker out then.”

…

     A loud bang violently pulls you all from slumber. Your breathing wavers in panic as another loud blast not only blares from the top floor but also dents the floor enough to leave a hole. An explosion.

Screaming voices erupts from the other cells as the ship rocks harshly from another round of explosions. Shouting comes from above, something reminiscent of barking orders and fearful retaliation. People were frantically moving up above while sounds of wood breaking and screaming echoed throughout. What was this? A raid? Deep in your gut a sprout of hope began to grow. If this was the navy then..!

A seed of hope takes root deep in your gut, fragile and desperate, but it’s more life than you've dared to feel in weeks.

You unwrap your arms off of Pau and you immediately took note of his face. Fear was etched into his facial features, the same emotion was causing his entire being to tremble against your own. Your eyes shoot up to the ceiling once more as gun shots fire consecutively in the fray upstairs. Fortunately, there were no additional rounds of cannon fire from the opposing force but this trafficking vessel was shooting its own rounds of cannon fire.

Everyone holds their breath for a second, simply listening to the carnage. Men shouting, guns blazing, cannons firing, bodies dropping.. and suddenly nothing.

Glances exchange between all of you, clearly uncertain of the situation to be. A loud thud from the deck above captures your attention once more.

“Those guys were screaming about precious cargo,” The voice of an unfamiliar man seeps through the holes created from the aftermath of the fight. Your eyes widen in suspense. “Should we inspect the bottom deck?” You almost screamed out a ‘please’ as if to answer their question. 

Instead of a response, the question was answered by a sudden breach of the deck floor again. A cannonball!? You thought, but it was quickly debunked when the roof above your heads suddenly began to convex upwards, in the motion suggesting that someone was pulling it. A loud crack comes as the deck boards snap free. Harsh winds begin to vacuum into the enclosed damp space, razzling not only your hair but also your companions who disliked the sudden moisture difference.

Your vision distorts as it adjusts in the darkness of the night, though it wasn’t long before some smaller people who looked like chess pieces held up light sources. Standing atop the deck were two men, their silhouettes clearly not belonging to any of the men who owned the vessel. One was shirtless despite the cold and wet weather, a bright orange hat sat atop his head while a gleam of red shimmered from his neck. The other was more striking in features simply because of the brilliant blue wings that were attached to where his arms were supposed to be.

They were not the navy.

You suck a breath in. Pirates, these were pirates. Even worse was that they were highly likely to be alphas, their presence alone was heavy and thick.

Something suddenly chokes you and you gag as your system reacts to it, making you keel over from the unanticipated scent. It was strong enough to cut through the thick blankets of your companions’ pheromones and even through the salty smell of the sea. It was tropical and acidic. Which, to your horror, smelt sweet and pleasant..

Against your better judgement, your eyes dart between the two men in an attempt to determine which of them it belongs to. Where your eyes fail, your instincts manage to tell you that there was something different about the one with wings. And he was glorious; bright brilliant blue flames that burned out into golden yellow. He was tall—no, large—and was carrying himself with an easy posture.

No one among the enslaved spoke a single word or made a single sound.

“Holy shit.” The man with the orange hat released an audible breath out. “Is this an omega trafficking scheme?” An audible inhale came from the same man, who grimaced from the amount of mixed scents that could probably only be described as wrong. “Oh fuck, right. This probably smells awful to you, huh? You could head back for now, Marco. We can pick through ‘em real quick.”

Pick through them? Your heart clenched painfully.

Maybe fate truly was look down on you. To be passed from cruel people to even crueler people who could only see merchandise with value that they could pick through, there was just no other way your situation could get any worse. You couldn’t stop the bitter shiver from crawling up your spine. Perhaps if you begged, perhaps if you offered something in return, maybe..!

You weren’t aware you were staring at the man that was called Marco, not until his glowing irises connected with yours. As if gravity increased instantaneously, something forces you to lower your head, burying itself onto Pau’s shoulder. The beat of your heart presses against your eardrums while your breathing falters from its consistent pace.

Apex alpha.

There was no doubt about it. Every sense and conscious thought of your body was screaming so: that this man was special, even more so than the other alpha next to him. His presence alone was doing things to your body, things that only began to happen after the trafficking scientists put you under an unnamed medication. You were going dizzy with sensations unfamiliar to you.

“No need.” The impassive tone of his voice didn’t mask the weight of his strength. Pau jolts under your hold from the mere sound of his voice. It would seem as though everyone else was affected by him too from the way the bodies around you trembled. You had no bravado in you to lift your head and meet his gaze again. The hope that he would simply ignore you and move on was shattered as he says, “I already see one I want.”

The blood in your veins run cold.

It could be anyone. You’re sure.

But then again, it’s too cruel for it to be anyone at all.

“Wait, seriously?” The shorter man barked out in surprise before letting out a laugh of disbelief bordering relief. “Great! Point ‘em out!”

You can’t look, your body refuses to move anymore.

You jolt when a pair of soles land on the hardwood floor right in front of the cage you were all crammed into. It must have been a coincidence, he’ll begin walking away you’re sure—

“Look at me, yoi.” Your muscles flinched at the command, and your body shook with effort to keep your head down even though every muscle in you was begging to obey. The command came from ‘Marco’, the more overwhelming one of the pair. His voice had a lazy drawl to it, ending in a vocal quip that was quite unique.

The bodies all around you moved in unison, no doubt following as they were told. The dull souring scents was sending your head spiraling, making it even harder to form coherent thoughts. The fear and the command were all becoming too much. Cold sweat began to drip from your forehead.

“I said..” A prickle made your neck jolt. The floorboards creak louder as someone took another step forward, the words brushing over your skin and causing your hair to stand tall. “Look. At.”

“Me.”

You did.

Your face lifted on its own accord and your gaze met his.

Brilliant blues that seemed to glow in the growing darkness of the day, the sun already meeting the horizon, allowing the night to swallow in. Again, you are faced with the fact that he was larger, a head taller than the other alpha next to him, his body rippled with muscles that probably didn’t experience any difficulty ripping the deck away from its nailed state. It was scary. Impressive. Out of anything and everything, however, you couldn’t look away from his face.

He was strikingly attractive, his eyes especially were drawing you in with an intensity that was disparate from the ease on his features. He probably had a few years above you given the slight wrinkles under his eyes. His posture was relaxed which was, again, not in tune with the current mood of the situation.

“That one, huh. Not bad.” The other man was freckled and rougish, another alpha with eyes full of energy and body just as impressive.

You swallowed hard. They weren’t like the men who used to drag you and the others around like cargo, they had a level of power that came easily. “This entire thing is covered head to toe in seastone. Hell, the chains they’re wearing is probably seatone too.” His eyes flicked down to the thick, blackened cuffs around your wrists. “Maybe you really should have brought Thatch along.”

The words he had spoken finally registered in your brain and you forced yourself to look away from the blonde man to the other, finding that his eyes were trained directly at you as well. You felt yourself jolt back slightly, disrupting your bound companions as your heart hammered harshly against the ribcage of your chest. Your head feels too heavy to keep up once more. You bit down on your trembling lower lip, trapping the trembling breaths from your lungs.

They.. do they know? Could they smell you? No, it was impossible. The medication that were given to you through shots were still going strong, clogging your scent glands.

Heat was prickling at your eyes as you pray that you were mistaken.

“Thatch won’t be able to do anything if we can’t find the keys first.” Marco surmised, still keeping his eyes on this particular ‘omega’ amongst the bundle of bodies basically huddled together. His gaze hasn’t left you, not even for a second since he’d found you amongst the crowd. The smell in the air was putrid, only serviced enough because of how dulled it had been, no doubt from synthetic suppresants that made sure it stayed that way. In fact, this dull smell was the reason why he didn’t simply blow the entire vessel to bits at first.

The first division commander had every intention of doing just that until he realized that the smell that was coming from the fishing vessel was unnatural, and that there was no possibility that any dead fish had the ability to mimic what a pseudo omega smelled like, no matter how rotten it would be.

‘Lo and behold, they uncovered an entire underground black market. Though, the more Marco had thought it over, the stranger the thought process was. A fishing vessel this far out into the ocean with no island in sight to make port with was already suspicious, and even in the event of a pirate plunder, they didn’t have many faculties of defense aside from a few standard cannons, guns, and swords. There was no chance for them to win against any pirate ship in the new world.

Not to mention, being able to obtain this many pseudo fruits for trafficking was astounding, the amount of pseudo omegas this vessel had was outrageous, no matter how bad their conditions were. So this had to be sponsored by a bigger organization, or rather, is a part of a bigger organization and they happen to have stumbled upon their new carg—

—A soft scent broke through the muddle of the rest, enticing his instincts.

Well, the circumstances don’t really matter. Only the results mattered. And the results were even better than he could have anticipated. In a fake dingy fishing ship that could have only been full of pseudo omegas, he found a scent that was agreeable . Maybe even sweet, salivating, enticing. Better than anything he’s smelled in months.

So, even if you ended up being a pseudo which was the highly likely scenario, it would be amiss of him to leave you behind when you’re already the most refreshing thing he’s laid his eyes upon in months.

With a bit of effort, he finally released his gaze on you, cricking his neck to look down at Ace who was looking around with clear curiosity on his face. “I’ll go grab Thatch and have Namur push this vessel into the Moby’s course. There are a lot of valuable things here.” Ace nodded along without much thought, occupied with examining the state the people who have been given pseudo fruits were in. “You’re staying here to look for that key.”

“WHA!?” Ace couldn’t release another word out before Marco was already back in the air. “HALF OF THE GUYS ARE ALREADY IN THE OCEAN!”

…

“By the seas, look at all this sea stone.” The barrel-chested man commented with a whistl,e eyes sweeping over the scattered mess of wood and bodily matter. The things he was commenting on were large and sizable, a wonder considering how seastone is only really readily available to the navy. “We really could probably use some of these back in the Moby, real useful.”

“I could have chosen to bring anyone else along, yoi.” Marco’s came out dry and unimpressed as he took  a few steps behind him. “Prove that I made the right choice.”

Thatch whipped his head back over his shoulder, staring at the right-hand man with an incredulous look. “Sheesh, is this some kind of punishment? Relax Marco, no one’s going anywhere.”

“It’s a threat, if you wanted clarification.”

When Marco had first provided a brief explanation of the situation to Whitebeard, their captain had immediately made the decision to leave the ‘cargo’ alone save for the one Marco had wanted. Too many pseudos on board would be a disaster, and Whitebeard had no intention of keeping any on board because of their biologically disastrous and unexpected nature.

However, it wasn’t like they were going to be left completely marooned. It was a small mercy in the face of the sea, the Whitebeard pirates were kind enough to spare a bit of supplies that could last them until they’d inevitably drift to an island. It wasn’t much, but it was better if not the best than what most other pirates would have offered or done.

“Exchange the goods with the seastone cages. We’ll need ‘em,” were the direct orders given to the crew. The crew made quick work of the sails to keep them from speeding past the vessel, Namur and a couple fishmen under his division immediately submerged underwater to move the vessel while Curiel and Blenheim’s divisions were asked to make space below the deck for some new special cells in the possibility of some special prisoners.

Marco picked Thatch up after a bit of complaints from the latter. Though, there wasn’t much complaining could do when Marco simply grabbed him by his shoulders and flew him right over the ocean. 

They landed with a loud thud, Marco lowering him before folding his wings back into nothingness again. Thatch cracked his shoulders. rolling his arms around to loosen the soreness after being held by his upper body for a time.

“And besides! It won’t be my fault if Ace wouldn’t be able to fi—”

“Found it!” Just in time, Ace walked over to the pair while holding up ring with three or so keys, swinging it tauntingly in the air. “Luckily it’s not made of seastone, and I found it in the captain’s quarters under a drawer. Classic.” The youngeer man snickered as Thatch opened his palm wordlessly, expression deadpan as Ace dropped the ring into it with flourish. Then he walked away, mentioning wanting to rummage through a few of their belongings for a little longer.

“.. It’s not guaranteed to be the cuff keys, alright?” Thatch mumbled in defeat as his fingers wrap around the small item. He peeks under his lashes, eyeing the first mate who was patiently watching. “So, don’t get mad, Marco.”

Marco doesn’t do anything much other than a noncommittal hum. Thatch turns back to the bundle of bodies ahead of him, grimacing at the unsavory sight of prisoners who were huddled like little fawns. They only seem to huddle together into an even tighter ball as he approached and stood in front of the door. This wasn’t the first time Thatch had seen a pseudo omega, not by a long shot. There was a concerning amount of normal people who are capable of getting their hands on one of the damned fruits and eating it themselves.

Omegas were desired enough that people wanted to be them, no matter the price. It didn’t matter if it was tagged with berri or their own body.

Much to his relief, one of the keys in the ring opened the cage. Given how there was only a limited amount of keys, this single one probably opened every single one of them. Fossa could probably make a copy of these keys no problem.

The reaction was instantaneous as soon as the door creaked open, one of them had begun to silently sob under their breath. Multiple terrified eyes were staring up at him, and Thatch could only sigh out the last nerves he had in order to exude as calm of a scent as possible.

“Hey.” Thatch finally addressed the bundle of people, slowly crouching down and low to the floor to make himself look less imposing and frightening, softly addressing them as if they were wild animals. The many eyes followed his move but they don’t respond to his greeting, which is understandable.

“None of you have to say anything, just know that we’re here for one of you,” He carefully began, hooking an arm over his bent leg to settle calmly. The dreary atmosphere doesn’t dampen the easy smile growing on Thatch’s face. “So, if you could all cooperate with us a little longer, we’ll make this trip quick and be out of your hair.”

“Could you all take a seat in a line in front of me?” The way Thatch said those words may have been kind, kinder than anyone has spoken to any of you in forever, but you all understood that it was still a command ; a command you could not deny no matter what from a pirate who was far stronger than any of your previous captors. Everyone around you also understood that.

So it didn’t come as a surprise when you all slowly and hesitantly begin to untangle from your knot of limbs and chains, obediently sitting down in an arrangement where the chain didn’t tangle over the other. Though, you were still huddled together, pressed side-to-side to seek the physical comfort of one another with hands still entangled. No one was looking ahead or above. No one spoke a word either.

Thatch looked over his shoulder and to Marco who was intently watching everything, asking the question in his head without a word uttered. Marco’s blue eyes flit over to a particular one, briefly, and Thatch immediately understood.

“You there.” You flinched when Thatch turned back around, and when you slowly raised your head to confirm, you were horrified to find that the alpha’s gaze directly pointed at you .

Tears were lining your lashes, probably from how inevitable everything felt now.

As if not noticing your increasing distress, or rather choosing not to, Thatch inched towards you while raising the ring of keys in his hands. He grinned, “You’ll be coming with us.” Final. No question or option asked. The next orders to raise your hands at the junction of your elbow so he could unlock the cuffs came through one ear and out the other, but your body manages to follow the instruction out of fear. The chains rattled noisily when your weak arms lifted them up to level with your head.

The weight of the cuffs dropped as soon as the key was inserted and turned clockwise. And yet

The longer Thatch stared at you, the more he understood Marco’s very sudden and very direct interest. Where there should have been a distressing visage was overshadowed by another emotion. You look so sweet, in a way unexplainable. It wouldn’t be too much of a long shot to even say that you had this atmosphere of real cuteness around you. Under all that grime and mistreatment, he had no doubt that you were a real eye candy either. And the way that you were looking at him: doe-eyed and afraid.

You looked like a little rabbit. So cute.

“Come here, sweetheart.” The large man beckoned you over, no doubt earning himself a scalding look from Marco given how hot the back of his head felt. Nonetheless, he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you begin to slowly move to stand. Your legs were visibly shaking. From the weight, the fear, the hunger, or everything? His gaze was on you like a beam of heat, and suddenly, everything in you seemed to tremble.

The large man extended his hands over to you, allowing them to hang in the air as possible supports in the case that you couldn’t handle it. He was hovering over you, waiting for you to walk over on your own terms. Your gait was unsteady as you finally took a step forward.

Just as expected, the movement sent a rush of blood up and into your brain, depriving your body of its energy, and causing you to stumble on your feet and trip forward.

“Woah there!”

Your arms flounder, and despite the pain from your injuries, attempted to find stability on his body. “I-I’m sorry!” Your puny voice was barely audible in your gasp. You hurriedly move to push yourself from him. But your mind was reeling and your senses are all over the place, so much so that your legs were buckling under your own weight. The hands that were hovering just over your arms were quick to latch back on, holding you steady.

Everything stills for a few seconds and nothing moves as you took life-saving breaths. It helped that every breath was filled with a scent reminiscent of a warm kitchen, alike the kitchen you grew up with. Second by second, your body finally catches up, and you’re feeling a little better. While not by much, it was enough to keep you standing.

“U-Uhm..” Your weak voice comes out ragged and small, unused to speaking. Your eyes trail from your hands and up to the man’s forearms that looked to be larger and healthier than your arms and legs. You had to say something, and the only appropriate response was to thank any act of kindness, no matter how small.

“Than-”

You jolt. The eyes that were looking down at you were no longer friendly, and instead, were looking at you with an intensity that sent tremors all over your body. His eyes were looking directly at you, maybe even through you, as if he could see something that wasn’t there before. The gentle hands that caught you hardened, although not gripping you, you could tell he was having a hard time restraining himself.

 That look.. he couldn’t possibly..

“Give her to me.” Thatch jolted as well as if he caught himself. The barrel-chested man was a little bigger than the other men, and yet, Marco was far more terrifying in comparison. Especially now.

“Marco, she’s—” Thatch began as his head whipped up to look at the other man.

“Even more reason to.” Marco concluded without letting Thatch finish. You could see Thatch force himself to swallow; his pride or his saliva, you’re not sure, but it’s the only thing he does before carefully guiding you with an assertive tug. Keeping your eyes pointed to the ground, to your bare feet, you walked with deliberate purpose. You stepped over the chain that had bound you, toward Thatch’s shoes, and then back over the entrance of the cage,

Until sandaled feet appeared in your vision.

Your fingers tremble in Thatch’s hand. A breath of air passed before you see a large hand lift up towards your face. You involuntarily flinch away right before he could touch you. Your lip shake as your hands fly out from Thatch’s hands and toward the front of your body, clutching the filthy cloth of your poor dress like it would lessen the impact of whatever would come next.

Only, it didn’t.

Because what came next wasn’t pain.

Marco’s fingers are soft when they pressed against your cheek, surprising you. The unexpected tenderness had your heart beating in confusion. They continue to be gentle as his palm engulfs the entirety of your face’s side.

You’ve already looked at his face before and you’ve already formed your opinions about him. And yet, now that you were much closer, calling him handsome might have dpne him a disservice. He was captivating, demanding your attention with his blue eyes that reminded you of the sky. He was at least a head and a half taller, you’re pretty sure he was already bending his back a little to accommodate you.

—That sweet scent. It really was from him. You could smell it from his wrist. It was pleasant.

You stare at one another for a moment as if taking each other in. 

“I am Marco. First division commander to the Whitebeard pirates, yoi,” his voice comes out low and is accompanied by a drawl. You could only blink in response.

“And as of now, you will be boarding the Moby Dick under me. Understand?” His index fingers gently moved to caress the tear that slipped from your eyes. When did you begin crying?

He could feel you bob your head into a nod, but he immediately caught your jaw to keep you from doing so. “Use your words.”

Your eyes shot open. “Y-Yes.” The words were barely audible, your tone wobbling as if a sob was right behind it.

“Yes, Marco.” He corrected sternly.

More tears slipped free, pooling hot on your cheeks and soaking into the hand still cupping you. The sudden sharpness from him was confounding, an abrupt switch from the gentleness he was offering. It left you dazed, heart racing, and the fear you’d managed to suppress earlier now surged back with vengeance.  “Yes, M-Marco..!”

Thatch was quick to interfere from the background, huffing out in protest. “C’mon, Marco, she’s already being so sweet! Don’t be so hard on her!”

“I want her to be as obedient as possible. It’ll be easier.” It wasn’t even said with malice, but with a resigned edge that was probably impatience. 

But you didn’t know that. Instead, his words felt like another blade against your already wounded heart.

You broke the eye contact by averting your eyes downward, heart wrenching painfully as you admonish yourself for falling for the tenderness so easily. Stupid, stupid . Your lips pressed thin as you allowed a deep frown to overtake your expression, your eyebrows pinching together. But you don’t allow the sobs to escape you in fear of dampening Marco’s mood.

“I-I will, Marco..” You cried and whispered lowly, not realizing that the previous statement he made wasn’t directed towards you. Marco silently held you like that, searching for the eyes that looked up at him in a bright way, but you do not look back up. You might not have had the ability to when your eyes only continued to flood with tears.

“Look at what you did.” Thatch tsked loudly from the background to purposefully voice his displeasure, but Marco didn’t respond, he could only stare at you after you uttered words with heartbreak and fear clearly caught in your throat. Your scent, although masked by a synthetic, was in the precipice of sweetness, only for it to plummet back into nothing.

Then, Thach sighed, dangling the ring of keys he had used in his hands. “We have to get going, Jozu and Namur’s divisions are coming to recover the cages soon.”

Your face pointed down to the floor as soon as he retracted his hand, wringing your hands into your clothes. Now that he had a better look on your hands, he could see the bruises that were formed around your wrists from the chains and cuffs that held you, the bruise that you were attempting to hide in your skirt.

“Hold your hands out.” Hesitance, then obedience, although they’re trembling harshly when you lift them palms-up. He placed a single hand under your arms, the length of his palm from pinky to thumb was large enough to encapsulate both your wrists. The skin was tender and was beginning to develop into a bruise that went the entirety around your arm like bracelets. Marco’s expression darkened. 

Thankfully you weren’t looking up at him to see it, it would have probably worsened your mood even more. His fingers tightened in their hold around you to secure you in place. You do not struggle, but you do jolt back when the familiar blue flames that you have been admiring before suddenly burst to life where his skin touched you. He watched your face intently, watched as the initial fear from his flames spread throughout your face before melting back into trepidation when his flames didn’t harm you like you had expected.

The lovely blue reflected from your irises and your dwindling tears before extinguishing to a small flickering flame. He pulled away slowly as if any sudden movements would scare you any further. You were still looking at your hands, now looking at it more with wide eyes.

The bruises and the pain was gone.

“.. Good girl.” Marco whispered, placing the palm he used to hold your face on your head. The praise translated well, your tears finally subsided.

He then took a step back, disentangling his fingers from your hair that he longed to brush through, and allowed his arms to be swept with his flames, turning his arms back into his brilliant wings.

Ah, and there it was again, the look of astonishment in your eyes. Although more hesitant to appear this time.

“Wha-I know I said we should probably leave but I wanna introduce myself properly too!”

[ikintsugii]

AAAAAAAAA thank you for your kind words!! you got me kicking my feet, rolling around the bed, clawing at the air– i'm about to squeal in public out of joy and i wouldn't care hihi

—‷FEELING FULL?⁗

ONESHOT SUMMARY: Ace had accidentally overlooked your discomfort for far too long, but he's willing to make it up to you no matter the cost. He's not afraid to keep his hands full. Hopefully you're not too upset, but he's a little happy it happened. AO3: Feeling Full? on AO3 CW: NO WARNINGS, vaginal sex, overstimulation, masturbation (technically), cunnilingus, lactation, ace is not the one leaking like i said NOTE: If this is too nonsensical and written too haphazardly uhm yeah sorry i wrote it based off of vibes and went with the flow

You’re not around.

     Ace could immediately tell when you’re not around him. It always felt a little colder, like a sudden space had opened itself right where you should be. And it was an odd feeling considering how there was a large party on the Moby Dick as usual, celebrating for the hell of it with new stocks and supplies from the last island. Still, Ace’s gaze kept flicking around, scanning over heads and between bodies. Every second he didn’t see you, he grew just a bit more agitated, like a fire flickering in an open breeze.

He chugs the remainder of his tankard, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before discarding the mug on some surface. He sweeps through and around the deck one more time to confirm that you really weren’t around. Not near Thatch who was performing with his dual blades, not with Vista who was in an arm wrestling contest with Jozu. Haruta, Blamenco, Jiru—Seas, where were you?

His eyebrows settle onto a dissatisfied expression as he turns to Marco who had been sitting a few inches away from him the entire time. His golden hair reflected the light from the lanterns, waving with the gentle breeze.

“Hey Marco,” He calls out, effectively reining the first division commander to his side of the deck with a hum of acknowledgement. Marco blinked slowly, the telltale haze of alcohol just starting to settle in his eyes. “Have you seen [name] around? She didn’t tell me where she was going last.”

Marco considers his question for a moment, dropping the tankard that was rising to his lips as he looked over to where the nurses were gathered, all the way over to the other side of the deck. “Pretty sure she went to ask Tate something, yoi. Why, something happen?” Ace waves off Marco’s masked concern with a smile, patting himself down as he stood up from his spot.

“Nah nothing like that. Just wanna see her.”

Marco snickered under his breath, his refined self-control from teasing waning a little from the amount of alcohol already in his system. “Sure you do, lover boy.”

Ace doesn’t give Marco any more chances to rib him, walking away and toward the circle of women who were just as loud as the men were. Jecka and Louis were the first to notice his approach, but it was Tate who addressed him when he was near enough. Tate grinned over a bite of some fries. “Welcome Ace. Is there another twisted muscle we can help you with?” She teased, referring back to the disastrous muscle sprain he got in his inner thigh, nearing his family jewels.

The alcohol in his system was enough to let Ace move on from any lick of embarrassment, laughing along. “Yeah yeah. I’m here for [name] though, have you seen her around?”

“Oh!” Recognition lit up Tate’s eyes before her teasing smile extended much wider, if that were possible. The other women around exchange eye contact amongst themselves. It was clear they knew something he didn’t, and that it was something to rib him for again given the giggles that erupted while hushed whispers went around. Tate pressed her eyebrows together, whispering as she says, “Poor girl’s been uncomfortable for a while. Why don’t you go help her, Ace? There’s probably no one else who could.”

Alarm shot through Ace, and suddenly all the trace alcohol in him evaporated. “Why? Is she sick?”

Tate hummed, “Something like that. She’ll probably explain it best though, I think she said she went to your quarters.” He nodded, not wanting to linger for much longer now that he knew what he knew. He thanks the ladies and jogs away, gripping his hat so it doesn’t fly off from his head.

The sounds of the raucous men, brawling, food fights, and laughter slowly drown out as Ace descends into the lower levels of the Moby Dick, growing dimmer and dimmer with every step down. Past the galley where the party continued to rage on with the smell of food enticing any would-be passerbys. Ace continues on, deciding that food was better eaten when you were with him, better tasting too.

He finds himself in the hallways to the commanders’ suites, separate from the shared bunks for the normal ranked pirate crew. It was eerily quiet in comparison to the deck’s loud party, he could basically hear himself think, and that was an unnerving thought to consider.

Just past Marco’s quarters were his own. Reassurance fills Ace when he sees that the door was cracked ajar slightly, the soft flickering light from a lantern inside was gently pouring out into the empty hallway as if beckoning to him in invitation. He walks slowly, trying to burn away the remainder of the alcohol that lingered in his system while mustering up the best of him he could. Tate mentioned that you were feeling unwell, so he needs to be able to comfort you properly.

The closer he drew to the door, however, the more he could hear the sounds of someone not being sick.

Ace’s eyes widened in disbelief as wet sounds leaked out from the crack from the door. He almost completely withheld from breathing altogether as he walked even closer, trying to listen better so that he could confirm what exactly it was he was hearing.

Through the crack of the door he could see that you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed and turned away from the door. Your top completely off and discarded near you, painting the image that you probably threw your shirt and bra off in haste to..

To do what?

Ace suddenly sobered up. He swallowed roughly when his eyes lifted higher, trailing up the side of your waist and immediately latching onto the sight of your breasts out in the open air. His mouth falls open. They were slightly larger, swollen and a little flushed with a thin sheen of sweat layered over every surface of your skin. Your hands and fingers are pushing into your mounds while you held a white towel in level with your nipples, and it didn’t take much effort before something trickled down.

Ace’s throat dried up like the Sahara Desert, feeling thirsty all of a sudden.

He had to bite down on his lips to keep himself from making any noise. He couldn’t, however, keep his eyes from briefly going back down your body that was shimmering with sheen, over the curve of your ass, and back up to your chest. Before finally-finally attempting to look at your face.

He knew he had to look at your face last because there was the high probability that he’d just cum in his pants right then and there. And he was right. It only took one glance at your face before he dramatically swung his head to the other side, tearing his gaze away to gaze at the empty hallway to his left.

Your face–he begrudged–your pretty face was dripping with effort. Eyebrows were upturned and pinched together, eyelids were closed and yet eyelashes were still fluttering. Your pouting lips were parted with shuddering breaths probably slipping past because he couldn’t hear you clearly. He’d seen that face many times before, and usually it’s his reward when he takes too much time teasing you. Frustrated and needy.

Fuck, Ace was as hard as a rock.

“A-Ace? Are you there?”

He jumped in his boots at the sudden mention, giving away the fact that he was indeed there from the way the soles hit the planked floors with a loud thud. He coughed out a knot in his throat and pressed back closer to his bedroom door, forcefully placing sad images in his thoughts to will his hard-on to not exist. The image of Izou’s angry face, Thatch’s ugly laughing, the awful haircut Marco got three weeks ago—anything, anything to take him out of the mood.

“Y-Yeah doll it’s me, uh,” what does he do now? He’d just been caught creeping on his girlfriend, well, creeping might be much but still. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing the space. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you around the party and I got real worried. Are you okay?” Ace shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the hallway unusually quiet save for the hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of old wood beneath his shoes. He frowned.

You don’t speak for a moment, and Ace worried that you actually weren’t okay at all. The longer the silence stayed, the more he’s worrying that he might be the cause for it. He steps a little closer to the door again, hoping his voice was loud enough to reach you without it echoing down the hall. “Doll? If you’re not feeling well I could always come ba—”

“No no!” Your quick interjection stopped Ace from even turning his body to leave. You hesitate again, and the fumbling of sheets was barely audible from his end. “Uh, Ace? Could you.. could you help me with something?”

You had spoken the second request in a tone too soft he might have missed if it weren’t for the fact that he was hyper aware of you at the moment. He ignores the sudden increased beat rate of his heart and he speaks, “Of course, yeah yeah. Uh, do you want me to come inside?”

Yes yes yes yes.

“Yes please..”

It was all he needed to hear before he finally pushed the door open ajar, closing it hastily behind him with the distinct click of the lock. He kept his gaze low to the floor at first, building up the suspense before he lifts his head again. He forces a relaxed grin, which may have faltered a little when he saw that your tits were still very much still out in the open. Naked and aching. The worst part was that he could see it even clearer; the way they glistened with sweat and milk, which went directly down to his dick.

Still, he manages to keep it together for your sake.

He walks closer towards the bed, casually bringing himself closer as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, angling himself so he could hide his raging erection. He moved his hat away and pushed his hair back so that he wouldn’t miss anything.

Seas, the way your pretty face was distorting to a pout really wasn’t helping.

You were frowning heavily and it was clear you were a little agitated from the way your eyebrows were twitching.  “Sorry for worrying you Ace I just.. “ Your eyes cast down to your tits as you finally addressed the elephant in the room. “My chest has been bothering me for so long.” You sigh out in frustration as you held your rack out as if they were a separate part of you.

Ace had enough sense to hum in response to will you to continue, his eyes stubbornly avoiding the swell of your chest with the strength of a thousand Whitebeards.

Your voice broke in frustration, “I started leaking two weeks ago for no reason. I asked Tate and the nurses why it was happening and what I could do about it and they said that it was a genetic thing!” Ah, that explains the large shirts and sweaters you began wearing despite the warm weather, and the fact that you haven’t been letting him see your exposed torso for three days should have probably been more suspicious.

“Apparently—usually—women make breast milk when they have kids. But, there’s also a genetic chance that it just—” You inhaled a frustrated breath in as milk suddenly drips from your breasts in great timing. “—happens.”

That also explains the giggling from the nurses. “And what did they say about.. dealing with it?”

“That I either wait it out for my hormones to go back to normal or.. to squeeze some out to alleviate the amount myself.” You gesture to the towel in your hands, which are three pumps away from being completely drenched. “I tried to wait it out, I really did, but after the first week they just started hurting a lot. And no matter how much I milk out of myself I just keep making more.” You groan as your arms slump back down from holding your chest up for too long.

As aroused as Ace was, hearing that you were under so much discomfort was also upsetting him now. He grimaced, moving slightly so he could shift a little closer to you. “Shit doll, that sounds like a pain in the ass. I know I don’t got tits but is there anything I could do to help you?”

You jolt, and suddenly you’ve become more conscious of yourself, your ears and shoulders burning with heat. “More like a pain in the back but..” you suddenly can’t seem to meet his eyes. “Could you.. help me.. milk them?”

Yes yes yes yes.

He stared at the bed sheets for a good second, willing those unsavory thoughts back to life as he convinces himself to be rational about this. ‘Your girlfriend’s in pain you horndog! It’s not the time to be thinkin with your dick right now, it’s all about thinking with your tits—wait no not with your tits, definitely meant something else.’ He smacks his palm over his face in an attempt to physically slap the ideas out of him.

“Ace?” Your weak voice calls out, snapping him out of his fantasized stupor. After he peeled his palm away, he sees that you’re looking at him with concern while your hands were busy bringing up a blanket over your body. Great. Now he made you feel self-conscious, what a great boyfriend he was.

Quickly, he plastered on his best grin and turned his body so he could address you better. “‘Course I could! How do you want me?” Maybe he said those words with a little too much enthusiasm but the delight that flashes over your features made him feel better.

You don’t answer him right away. There’s hesitation in your movements as if you were debating over completely flashing him or not just yet. You’re clearly at a loss too, not expecting to be assisted in any way like this. Ace had an idea though.

“Alright, scooch a little forward sweetheart, let me get behind you.”

He worked through the straps of his boots for a second, making sure to take a little time on them to make sure he didn’t look overly eager. The pair are fixed over to the side just as he fixed the shoes you had kicked away on the floor as well. He wrapped his fingers around his precious hat, taking it off before placing it carefully on the nightstand. He gets off the bed for a second and walks over toward the headboard, crawling behind you with awkward movement due to the limited space of the mattress.

Ace slots himself behind you with either leg beside your body, his hands carefully laying on your waist for comfort. “You can lean back on me, doll. I’ll support everything so you don’t have to lift a muscle.” Even though he winks and he was sure you couldn’t see it, he sees the effect he has on you. The way your ears and the surface of your shoulders flush with heat was adorable.

He couldn’t help but place a little kiss on the junction of your neck and your shoulders. Your body jumps at the suden contact and you seethed his name under a breath, he laughs with a half-hearted apology. You were so warm, even he with the mera-mera fruit could admit to that.

As soon as your back met his chest, he could feel a shiver run up your spine. You probably forgot that he was shirtless too, which was a feat in itself because he was shirtless all the time. He carefully wrapped his arms around your middle, holding you against his body so tightly that there was no possibility of air in between you. Your breasts rested on his forearms while your hands finally lower down to rest on his thighs.

“D’you trust me?” He asked as he pressed an equally heated kiss on the side of your face. He felt you nod and felt the way your body simply relaxed against him. “Of course, Ace. I trust you more than I trust myself.” You laugh lightly.

“If that was true we’d definitely be dead by now. If not scrubbing the lower decks for some dumb stuff I’d have us doing.”

“As long as you’re there, it’ll be fun.”

He buried the stupid grin on his face in your hair before he could say something embarrassingly sincere, before the grin on his face got even more ridiculous than it already was. Always so genuine and unabashed, you laughing in his arms was the best part of any day he had. He was glad he could take your mind off of your discomfort at least a little.

Back to the task at hand, he took the towel you were using to soak the milk with. The fact that it was already damp and heavy was a testament to how much you really had. He had you lead back against him even more, laying your head on the space of his shoulder. He swallowed nervously as he retracted his arms from your middle, trailing his rough palms up your soft stomach before laying right under your breasts and finally getting a feel of their weight.

He groaned. He just couldn’t help himself. They were so heavy and warm that they were practically melting in his hands.

Choosing to ignore what seemed to be the beginning of his fascination with your tits, you begin to instruct him with your right hand on his wrist. “I already pumped out enough to soak a single towel. Usually I’d keep going until the towel is full then I’ll dump them on the bucket on the floor.” Ace trailed his eyes over to where you pointed and there was, in fact, a single bucket with a towel inside on the floor.

He nods in understanding, but at the same time, there was a nagging idea in the back of his head, one that was too embarrassing to even acknowledge to life. He asked, “You don’t just pump into the bucket directly?”

“Like a cow?” That cute pout was probably on your face again when you retort. “I already feel like one. I wouldn’t appreciate looking like one either.”

Ace apologized again with a chuckle. “Not what I was implying, sweetheart.” He pressed another kiss on your cheek, one that lingered longer and one where he dragged his lips over your jaw. “It just seems like a waste, is all.”

You sigh, understanding where he was coming from. “Well it’s not like we have babies on board. I could try to save some and have them refrigerated so we could give it away to a hospital or a nursery on the next island but..” You release a different kind of sigh when his large fingers finally press into the sides of your left tit, the liquid quickly caught onto the towel under it. Ace does his best to go deaf, refusing to acknowledge how sweet you sounded.

“..The only fridges around here are in the kitchen. I don’t want Thatch and the other chefs mistaking it for food, and I don’t really wanna tell Thatch that I’m leaking like a heifer..” Yeah no. The idea of having the piece of you be consumed by anyone other than himself was enough to get him feeling mad.

Wait. Consume.

He considers it for a long minute while his fingers dutifully squeezes from the base of them and moves up to your nipples, deliberately avoiding the pebbled tips to avoid turning this into anything else. But damn, Ace just can’t think about anything else.

“A-Ahn..” It was even worse now that you were moaning into his ear, gasping and sighing while your breath brushed over the shell of it. “Hah..!”

How was he supposed to do this with a straight face?

The reasonable part of his brain continued to shrink and shrink, becoming more muddled with every shuddering breath you release, and the way you adjust on his lap, inadvertently grinding on his raging hard-on. From your scent that smelled like the floral bath soap and your shampoo that always got him going, to the heady scent that came from your sweat and your tits. He had to apologize for that though, he was probably as hot as a heater right now.

A particular angle when he pressed down with his fingers near your areolas has your head rolling back into his shoulder with a heavy moan. It caused him to pause abruptly, fingers freezing in place.

Ace hadn’t said anything for a long while, long enough that you had already come down from the high of the pleasure. You looked at him in confusion through your lashes, your fingers squeezing at his clothed thighs for a response. You called out his name and asked if he was alright.

Ace sucks a breath in, easing up his work on your tits. There was just no way. No way to keep this up without him busting a load in his shorts right then and there. He needed to say it, and he needed to say it now while he wasn’t high off of you.

“I’m about to say something and just know that you’re free to kick me out of the room and never trust me with sorta thing ever again”

This was stupid, really a one of a kind idea only Ace could ever think of, but if he had to say that it wasn’t filling up his body with arousal then he’d be lying.

You tilt your head over to the side a little, worry dragging along your eyebrows. “Mhm?”

“Can I..” Ace’s voice rumbled with need that was barely contained during his impeccable restraint, a tone that had your body shivering with the same arousal. “.. drink from your tits?”

He felt your body stiffen up in his hold. Usually such a blatant response would be enough to get him to retract a statement, if it weren’t for the fact that his brain was now officially out of the game. He pressed his face right into your throat, rubbing his head up and down your side like a cat would as he begged, “Please please please, sweetheart? I’ve been thinking about it for so long..”

It wasn’t a lie nor a sudden realization; your tits were magnificent, a bonus to what you already offered to him. The amount of times Ace had thought about drowning in your tits was enough to make a man go insane, at least ten-maybe-fifty times before during one of your many romps. At the time, however, you weren’t leaking like this; all full and needy. This time, it was like his prayers were being answered and he was being given the best excuse to fulfill them.

“And I’m real thirsty..” In a cruel gesture, the pads of his fingers finally press into your tips he’s been deliberately avoiding, gently rolling and only lightly pinching at your sensitive tits with great precision. Your back involuntarily arched at the feeling, trying to run away from it to no avail. He was wrapped around you like a snake, trapping you. “And you did say it was a waste..”

The moans being directly broadcasted and sighed into your ears made the ends of your hair stand on end. You had to bite back your own moan when you finally noticed the pressure of his hips pressing against your ass, the hardness under all of that denim grinding ever so slowly. You scramble to find purchase on your hold on his thighs, trying to escape his rutting hips that was coaxing your pussy to life. 

Well, it’s not like you haven’t felt the weight of the heady atmosphere a few minutes before, you’re sure you’ve already soaked through your panties way before he had even touched you. Did you ever have dreams about this sort of scenario before? Yes, you couldn’t even deny it. And yet, you didn’t believe you’d be mentally ready in a million years for how rabid Ace was about to become in the event of this.

“Please?” He pitifully begs again as he gently bites your earlobe before pressing a kiss onto the space behind your ears, his hot breath turning the shell of your ear even redder. One of his large hands released your tit, ghosting down your stomach before playing with the button of your shorts, harshly rubbing your pussy over the denim material. Your hips responded eagerly, bucking up into his large palm.

“I’ll be real good to you.. promise.”

In truth, your pussy has already been dripping wet ever since Ace had his hands on you; it was just the sort of effect he always had on you. Every little thing he did was arousing, even his boyish smiles were enough to make you want to spread your legs and ride his face until he learns how to breathe in pussy.

The only real reason why you’re resisting now is because you’re afraid you’re going to absolutely soak the bed. Your girls react to the smallest amount of pressure!

“Th-The bed’ll be soaked, Ace!” You whisper screamed, only to be quickly deflected with a, “So what? We’ve had to get rid of bedsheets in even worse state.” You hated how he had a point, a very embarrassing point.

Right now where Ace was volunteering to take care of all of it, it was hard to find a reason to say no. And the more you thought about it, the more it horrified you to conclude that it was because there was no reason to say no at all. You groan, your body was absolutely tingling with need and arousal now that the option was opened to you. The need to be dicked down is simply being drilled into you with every fuck of his hips.

As soon as you turned your head to meet Ace’s eyes, you were overtaken by a kiss. Quick pecks that were still hard and needy only because the angle wasn’t allowing him to press any deeper than that. Ace’s nose nudges against yours briefly. 

He gazes into your eyes with unfair desperation, and you had to curse yourself over the fact that cute and handsome boyish features were your worst weaknesses. 

“.. Okay.” 

Stars sparkle in his eyes at the signal. In a speed that almost looked impossible, he unlatches his hands from your chest, carefully pushing you forward so you had the space to turn around to meet him face-to-face, only, he’s delighted to find that he’s already face-to-tits with you as your knees went on either side of his hips. Your hands land on his hard shoulders which were constantly flexing as he wrapped his forearms back around your waist.

Heat licks at your face when Ace placed his chin right on your chest, grinning up at you with his boyish charm and his stupid smile. He was always so cute, his boyish features were always so roguish and handsome. Only, that cute charm ended there. The rippling muscles that engulfed you and the hardness that was pressing against your pussy were anything but.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, sweetheart. Thank you, really.” You had to avert your eyes away before he lures you into his daze any deeper. His hair is a little sweaty when your fingers carded all over the back of his head to pet him. You press a kiss against his sweaty forehead, mumbling, “You're the one doing all the work you know. I should be the one thanking you.”

“Nahh, I’m the one who’s getting the better deal from this.” Ace pressed kisses all over your bust, soft but hot. The almost wet noise from his sweet kisses were doing things to you.

You mumble, “.. Are you sure about this?”

“Hell yeah! I could drink five gallons of milk without a problem!”

That wasn’t exactly as reassuring as it should have been. You grumbled, “I doubt I have that much.”

Ace grinned, teeth nipping at your taut skin. “Keep pouting like that and your tits and your lips won’t be the only part of you I kiss tonight.”

That got you to look away, turning your face to the side because you knew he wouldn’t let you hide behind your hands. “J-Just focus on my boobs please.” It’s unbelievable how that’s not the most embarrassing thing that was said today.

Ace grinned wider. “Aye aye.” His hands went back over to cup under your breasts, lifting the weight up as he brought them up to his face. He groaned again, “Helloo girls.” You had to bite back another wave of complaints and decided that you’ll just have to deal with the fact that your Ace was falling in love with your tits.

His pretty gray eyes took one last confirming look up at you, and despite your reservations about the entire thing, you weren’t about to deny Ace any sort of pleasure. Even if it came from the form of your tits.

As if to confirm, you shifted slightly where you sat, straightening your spine and rolling your shoulders back just enough to give him easier access and to keep him from hurting his back. Your teeth clung to your bottom lip, fingers clenching a little harder into his hair follicles as he finally stuck his tongue out, tentatively dragging his rough taste buds over your right nipple.

The sudden jolt of pleasure was an unexpected sensation, the fact that your tits were just increasing in sensitivity was almost a little absurd. Milk came out easily, almost eagerly, surprising even yourself when the white liquid escaped his tongue. Ace immediately latched onto you, chasing the droplets that had escaped his mouth. Nasty sounds of slurping and groaning filled the room space, as well as your own breathy moans from how sensitive and how much buzzing pleasure was spiking through your chest.

He eagerly lapped up the milk with forceful gulps as if that’d give him more, no, the only thing it did was bring you even more pleasure.

You try to pull back from the mounting pleasure, to ease up a little before it became overwhelming, only for you to accidentally grind down onto his hard-on. Mutters of quick apologies cascade from your mouth as Ace groaned particularly loudly at the contact. Only to be vindicated by Ace’s hum of approval that went straight through your tits and into your pussy

His hands wander down your back and to your ass, gripping the fat harshly before encouraging you to grind even more on him. Your limbs clumsily move when his hips worked up to chase your own. So you oblige after another whimpered apology, the rough fabric of your and his shorts pressed clumsily against your pussy with enough pressure to snag against your clit.

Hissing and groaning, you work your hips even more, chasing more and more of the friction that has your thighs clenching. “A–Ace..!” He hummed again as he took a very audible gulp. He’d take a chunk of breath through his mouth and nose before diving back in for more.

Suck, swallow, breathe.

Again and again.

Warm liquid dripped down on Ace’s clavicle, quickly trickling down his chest and onto his stomach. It was then he realized your other side was being neglected.

Ace swirled his tongue all around your bud as a parting gesture before letting go with a very audible pop. You could barely see well enough to witness a string of saliva connect from your chest to his mouth. The sight was driving you wild. Ace was always so messy, you didn’t expect that such a thing would turn you on by this much. You take the chance of respite to tug at your shorts, your eyes begging with unshed tears as you lift yourself a little from his lap.

“Ace-Ace—off off-!”

“I-I hear you, sweetheart. Hold on.” Ace hissed as the pressure on his dick finally eased up. Fuck, does it not want it to be though. He already misses the way your hips rutted against him, his cock was basically begging for some proper attention. He helped you pull back to your haunches with a steadying hand. He half expected you to get down from the mattress so that you could stand and get rid of them there, but no, instead you laid on your back and lifted your hips off the mattress.

Ace felt himself suck another breath in and his mouth fill up with saliva. You were tugging your shorts down in the position, loosening it with a single button pop before pulling it over your legs. First came your luscious ass that jiggled from the simple strip, and immediately after is your pretty pussy—all puffy and bothered from the desperate dry humping. He even appreciated the fact that you had gotten rid of your panties in one go as well.

The best part was when he could see your soaked pussy glisten from the soft lantern glow. Outlined and enticing, Ace swallowed another mouthful of saliva.

Just as you were clambering to get back into Ace’s lap, a single hand to the back of your right thigh was enough to push you back down onto your back, surprising you. Right now you were staring right at the bedroom’s ceiling, which was barely visible from the single point of light in the room. Your hands grip onto the mattress’ bedsheets as you try to push yourself back up using your elbows.

A single hot breath that swept through your folds was enough to ground you right where you were. Your heart hammered right into your ribcage as you whimpered out Ace’s name in concern.

Your pathetic little whimper earns you a single deliberate lick from your weeping hole to your clit, making your legs jut out in surprise. Ace’s tongue was a little rough and big, it didn’t help that he was hot to the touch either. It feels good-so so good. The single lick has your body trembling in need.

“Sorry doll could’n’—” He takes another taste, laying his tongue even flatter as he grazed your clit. “—help myself.”

“Whenever I see my favorite food all I wanna do is dig in—” Two of his digits worm themselves in between your legs, helping to spread your pussy lips open for more access. “—M’real sorry.”

‘That was awful.’ was what you wanted to say over his corny little one-liner, but you couldn’t really mutter out the words even if you wanted to. Ace began to eat you out as if he hadn’t been drowning in your tits seconds before. He focused on your clit first, gently sucking and licking while he diligently coated his rough fingers in your wet juices.

“Ahn,,ngh! Ace-uh..!”

Your thighs snapped around his head in muscle memory, and so do your hands as they intertwine with his black locks. You buck your hips up and into his face, where he responds in kind and continues to push into you, letting his nose take over your sensitive clit while his tongue and his fingers begin to slowly work inside your leaking hole. “You taste so good, the b-best” He’d hum into you, only ever increasing your pleasure more.

It’s always like he was in heaven whenever he was in between your legs. The taste of you, the smell of you, the way your soft thighs always clamp around him like a snug little blanket. Fuck, he needs to do this every night. He needs to get his fill of high with you every time.

His middle finger carefully goes in first, gently cricking and curling to find that little spot by the entrance of your pussy that has you keening. “HHNG!” Oh, he found it already. His fingers continue to curl in a consistent pace, playing a ‘come-hither’ motion that hit your delicious little spot. Your pussy was buzzing with pleasure, and yet all you could think about was how you wanted Ace to be more, bigger, deeper inside you. 

Your tits were leaking already like you had feared, and yet right now you couldn’t find it in you to care. All there was to think about was Ace and his stupid thick fingers and his mouth. You could feel the way his sloppy technique spread your wetness everywhere. It stuck to your thighs, your pelvis, down to your asshole, and even on his face. Seas help him if he really does get it all over his face.

You’re gushing, absolutely leaking into Ace’s mouth. But not quite how he wants you to, it’s almost not enough. He wants, no, needs you to squirt all over his face, and if not, then his dick. Whichever one comes first. He’s just gluttonous like that.

Your breathy moans suddenly became clipped and louder, signaling the rush of your incoming climax, and he had to pull away from your cute little clit to encourage you a little. “Come on, sweetheart. Ride my face like you mean it.” He stopped curling his fingers, straightening out a little before fucking them back deep into your pussy, just how you like them. A jolt goes through your muscles, making you cry loudly from the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Yes yes yes yes.” Your mind may have been turning to mush, but there was enough sobriety hanging in you for you to recognize Ace’s command. Your hips begin to move and ride his face without abandon, simply chasing your pleasure as Ace’s tongue returned to your clit, the stimulation has you keening and shuddering uncontrollably.

The only thing you could hear now was the wet squelching from Ace’s fingers and the slurping and sucking from his mouth. You might as well have hyperfixated on it from the way that you ignored your own moans.

Back arching off the bed, you continue to chant Ace’s name like a choir, begging and praising him as your body burned with his heat. The fingers deep inside you don’t relent, only shifting lightly to really hit the spot that made you see stars.

Fuck, your tits were leaking again, dripping all over your chest and down your body. You bring your hands up to your chest in a hurry, acting upon the only rational decision you could think of at the moment and clamped your fingers around your nipples, successfully momentarily stopping the flow. You almost scream from the stimulation, your body jolting, stopping your hips from moving into Ace’s face.

But it was alright, Ace’s greedy mouth kept eating you out like there was no tomorrow, salivating all over your pussy and himself. His thick fingers fuck into that gummy spot inside you, the one that has your spine arching and your soft thighs wrapping around his ears. He even took a chance to look up at you, noticing that your smaller hands were clutching your pretty tits, and Ace could only double his efforts in response.

“AHN-AC-E—ACE AH AH AH ANGH CUM-C-CUMMING! ACE M’CUMMING!”

Something along the lines of “Cum for me, sweetheart.” was spoken into your pussy, right into your sensitive little clit, and that was enough to have your body seizing.

Your pussy walls clamped down onto Ace’s digits as your hips pushed into Ace’s face. His eyes immediately shoot up to your face, your sweet face was contorted in sweet pleasure and your poor lips swollen from being bit down upon by your teeth. Warm liquid bursts from your pussy, messy and tasting just like you, just as he liked it.

His name continued to be babbled from your throat as his tongue continued to lap at your clit as your orgasm wracked through your body. His hair follicles scream as your fingers desperately tug into his sweaty locks. “‘Nuff, please please enough-nuff Ace..!” A vulgar shlick was the final noise from his mouth before he finally pulled away from you.

You lock eyes, and all you could do was stare in slight fear and anticipation at the hunger dripping from his eyes and from his lips. “I can’t believe,” he began in between a handful of air. His tongue peaked out from his mouth, dragging across his swollen lips before it pulled into a happy grin. “That I’m actually ‘Eating you up’!” 

You groan. Ace, on the other hand, was giggling to himself sort of in a bit of a tizzy while he pushes himself up until his face levelled with your chest. The rough texture of his shorts graze against your sensitive pussy, making you jolt light. It doesn’t stop at the single thrust, he continued to dry hump you for a little longer.

Before he finally hooked a finger into one of his belt loops and slid his shorts down and over his ass. Or at least that was what you could see beyond your vision where his long strands of hair were hiding.

You whimpered in delight when the familiar feeling of Ace’s hard cock was pressing right against the folds of your pussy, its warmth was unmatched. It felt even hotter than his body, which had to be impossible. In its place between your thighs, Ace’s cock slid between your skin drenched in slick, slobbering itself up.

Ace begged for your attention, his eyebrows pinched together as he pressed up to you. “Doll, give me a kiss.” It was a demand, not at all a gentle request as he pressed a hand to the nape of your neck to pull your head down to his.

And of course you comply despite your foggy pleasure-driven head, eagerly lapping up at his tongue when it pushed into your mouth. Your arms immediately went over Ace’s neck to pull him close. You're both breathing in each other’s air, and it only further served to cloud up your head with even more need.

The blunt head of Ace’s cock nudged at your clit, sending a jolt through your body again because it was still as sensitive as Ace had left it after eating you out like an animal, before trailing down to press against the entrance of your pussy. A strong jolt of anticipation ran through your nerves as Ace’s strong thighs press hover over the back of yours while your legs go over both sides of his hips.

“Mng—!” You keen into the kiss as his cock slowly slid into you, allowing you to feel every inch of him and the veins that shaped his length. The entrance of his thick cock was made easier because of your previous orgasm and his sloppy tongue. Something you've grown to appreciate after months of ‘getting to know him’. You had to break the kiss in order to breathe properly, your toes clenching in the air as he continued to fill you up more and more.

Ace wasn't faring much better, his face was scrunched up in effort when he felt your soft walls clench down on him. He pressed an elbow right by your head to stabilize himself, his strong body didn't even tremble from the exhausting position. His name flowed out of your swollen lips with every inch entered.

Ace was just staring at your face the entire time, drinking in your expressions and your noise and your words. Everything about you. “Pretty,” he muttered almost reveringly. “Feels so good, I missed this.” Yeah, the last time he had the priveledge of burying his dick inside you was almost a week ago. Most of your physical needs were done orally, which was great yes, but your pussy was just so much better.

Just as he was already half-way inside you, he suddenly snapped his hips forward, filling you up in seconds.

“!!!” Your body tensed at the sudden jolt of pleasure, your head thrown back as your hands gripped onto his strong shoulders. You had barely stopped yourself from cumming a second time as your pussy clamped down in response. It was as if the wind had been fucked right out of you.

His strong thighs were now pressed right against yours that were trembling. The motion spread the wet slick from the cunnilingus, absolutely smearing all over your connected hips. Ace trailed kisses all over your face, which you respond in kind to until you eventually descend back into sloppy kissing.

He then pulled back, dragging himself out slowly while also parting your kisses. And although the space he left as he dragged it out left a hollow feeling inside you, it was amazing to feel his hard cock slide into every nook and cranny of you. You stared up and into Ace’s face, watching how concentration was etched in every inch of his face right up until his eyes finally looked down into yours. He sent you his usual charming grin as he pressed his forehead right into yours.

Then, just as his tip was about to pop out, he snapped his hips back up, creating a wet slap that only made the feeling of his cock driving into you even better. A strong shudder went up your body. You could feel your lips lifting into a pleasured smile when Ace did it again. And again. And again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes from the force. Your nails scratched at his skin as your body began bouncing from his momentum, magnifying the force of your connection. His cock was hitting all of your best places like it always did, fucking all of the remaining coherent thoughts that were possible.

The noises were beyond obscene; noises you weren’t afraid to add into with your own whimpers and keening and moaning. You were like a broken record on repeat, letting out feeble squealing and whining because Ace’s cock felt so big inside you, stretching you out so nicely.

“Feels good..! Feels so good, Ace!” You hiccuped in bliss, the words irregularly bumping in volume every time his dick drove back into you. Tears were lining your lashes from how delicious it all felt, flowing freely when you opened your eyes again to look at his that were staring at you. “L-Love your c-cock..! Love youuu..” He responds in kind, whispering praises of how good you felt around him and how hot and soft you were directly into your sensitive ears.

He grinned, probably feeling proud of himself. “Love you too. Keep cumming on my dick, y-yeah?”

The word latched onto your brain, acting like a trigger when you feel the height of pleasure rapidly approaching. Your clit was suddenly being ground by Ace’s hips from the way his body was furiously grinding into you. “Yessss! Cum-cumming M’cummi—♥” Your voice breaks.

It was astounding how quickly he was sending you back into the path of another climax. Suppose because of how close this one is to the heels of the previous, it was probably the reason why your body was so sensitive to everything.

Ace’s unoccupied hand ghosted over your wet skin, toward your chest, and allowed his rough fingers to wrap around your tit once more, happy to find that it was once again dripping like a faucet. He gently tweaked it to your liking, the pleasure immediately shooting to your brain as it doubled the sensations that were wracking your body.

An even stronger spike of pleasure was ripped through you when Ace fucked you at an angle, sending you on your way to another mind-shattering orgasm. Your body curls up, knocking into him as your head throws back into the sheets. “ACE!” Curses tumbled out of his lips while your legs kick up, pussy clenching all around him as your orgasm is fucked right out of you. You gasp for air, choking on it as if you were on his cock.

“Oh fuck–!” The freckled man hissed at the sudden pressure. His pace faltered but he sent one more good fuck of his hips in. You gasped at the harsh thrust, feeling it slam deep inside you before you're filled up with all of him. It was hot, thick as well from how much it was swelling inside. You heaved a moan, cumming even harder against Ace at the unexpected release. Your legs shook from the second(?) orgasm.

It feels so good–he feels so good. Your brain may have actually blanked out from that mind-blowing creampie while your body was still coaxing more of his cum inside you.

Ace doesn't stop, however, doesn’t even give you a five second break because his hips were still moving. How Ace had this much amount of energy and strength was beyond you, literally and figuratively. While you didn’t have many complaints over it, what was concerning was the fact that his softening dick was being coaxed to life inside you. He was quite literally stroking himself back to hardness.

The pleasure may actually be never ending when Ace was like this; pussy-drunk and tit-drunk in every definition of the sense. The smell of beer was still present beyond the scent of your cunt in his breath, which may have attributed to his very abundant energy at the moment. Your mind was all but gone, filled with nothing but Ace in every possible sensation.

Without warning, Ace pulled his face back down to level with your chest while his hips began to slowly pull back, dragging himself out again before pushing back in with a little more speed. Just a little. Your breasts buzzed with pleasure when Ace’s warm tongue wrapped around the tit that wasn't sucked empty earlier. He began to suck, dragging his tongue all over your sensitive tit, and milk began to pour back out and into his mouth.

Pleasured noises and hums rumble from his throat as his hips continue to make love to you, making sure his cock was engulfed in your softness after every time he pulls back out. The loud gulps were just as obscene as the slick noises from your pussy, heightening your senses.

A whimper left your throat when Ace inevitably hardened from the tip to his hilt once more, and you had to mentally and physically prepare yourself for the next fucking of your lifetime. “A-Ace, wait now..” You should have known better. “Give me a second to breathe at least.” There was no way you'd be able to bargain your way out even if you wanted to, and you didn't necessarily want to unless cramps began to set in. Ace responded by humming into your skin in disagreement.

“But,” Ace argued with a whine he knew you found adorable. “I’m feeling full too sweetheart. And your pussy’s the only one who I want to drain me dry.’

The mixed cum that was leaking from your hole was frothing with every pass of Ace’s cock, making the sound even worse and more erotic when he began slamming his hips into yours. Your hands instinctively move to brace on his shoulders again as tears freely dripped from your eyes from the utter never ending buzz of overstimulation, just like the milk was from your tits.

The small room was being quickly occupied by obscene sounds if it wasn't already before.

Your tits may have been making your life hell for almost a week, at least someone else appreciates them.

…

“What's wrong with him?”

Marco asked aloud as his eyes trailed after the second division commander who.. was sporting the biggest unhappy expression on his face. In fact, his thick eyebrow was twitching, his lips were pulled down to a grimace that may or may not have given him new wrinkles, his arms were constantly tied across his chest tthat it looked ready to cramp; Ace was sulking. There was no other way to describe him.

Frankly, it was adorale. You can only laugh when you glanced up from your list of storage items to see that your boyfriend still hasn't gotten over the news you had this morning. The fact that he’s not even attempting to hide how broody he’s being made it even funnier. “He's fine, he's just pouting.”

“I am not pouting!” Ace’s yell was barely audible over the voices of the other crew members, and whatever response he had in retaliation was drowned out by the laughter of the same said pirates who couldn't take Ace’s flare of indignation.

Marco’s clinical eye dropped down to you. “What's he so upset about now?”

You simply shook your head, dropping your attention down to the list in your hands. “Nothing.” It was very much not nothing. 

Morning was a very eventful time for you and Ace for different reasons. Ace because he wanted to fuck and touch you one more time with his tongue before duty began, and you because you found out you could finally move around without your tits leaking during something as simple as walking. You were pleasantly surprised when you woke up with a dry shirt, the same shirt that you dressed in after cleaning up.

Ace didn't take the news well. Apparently, he’d grown quite attached to your chest during that short amount of time he was given express permission to milk you dry and had planned a lot for the future ahead. Something he doesn’t usually and explicitly do. “I was just getting used to it too!” He said with a very dismayed expression without even a hint of humor. You laughed and gave him kisses all over his face while thanking him for his duty.

When night came, you were dragging a confused Ace by the hand towards his room right after dinner had concluded. He had significantly cooled down throughout the day and had basically gone through every phase of the grieving process until he was at acceptance.

“You wanna sleep in my room tonight, doll?” He asked, pleasantly surprised because it wasn't every night that you did, mostly because Marco had limited that privilege to four times a week otherwise no one would be able to sleep.

You don't answer him, only eagerly locking the door behind him as soon as he stepped inside. “Woah now hold on—” He stumbled back when you pushed him towards his bed, and he had the audacity to look up at you with those pretty eyes of his in bewilderment as if he had no idea this was where it was heading. His hands immediately locked around your waist when his ass met the mattress and your legs locked on either side of his hips.

“Wow, are you really that pent up why’re—” When you basically ripped your top off your body, Ace’s tone drastically slowed. His eyes darting down to your precious tits that were seconds away from bursting once more. “—.. we rushing..?” You could see him audibly swallow. 

You laugh, slowly grinding into the already hardening mound under you. “While I don't have to be leaking for you to suck my tits, I need your help again one more time.”

[ikintsugii]

Handsome guys :)

I wanted to see how differently I draw Ace from Sabo, I make them look too similar unfortunately

[ikintsugii]

oh people are so sweet here :>

[ikintsugii]

—‷FEELING FULL?⁗

ONESHOT SUMMARY: Ace had accidentally overlooked your discomfort for far too long, but he's willing to make it up to you no matter the cost. He's not afraid to keep his hands full. Hopefully you're not too upset, but he's a little happy it happened. AO3: Feeling Full? on AO3 CW: NO WARNINGS, vaginal sex, overstimulation, masturbation (technically), cunnilingus, lactation, ace is not the one leaking like i said NOTE: If this is too nonsensical and written too haphazardly uhm yeah sorry i wrote it based off of vibes and went with the flow

You’re not around.

     Ace could immediately tell when you’re not around him. It always felt a little colder, like a sudden space had opened itself right where you should be. And it was an odd feeling considering how there was a large party on the Moby Dick as usual, celebrating for the hell of it with new stocks and supplies from the last island. Still, Ace’s gaze kept flicking around, scanning over heads and between bodies. Every second he didn’t see you, he grew just a bit more agitated, like a fire flickering in an open breeze.

He chugs the remainder of his tankard, wiping his lips with the back of his hand before discarding the mug on some surface. He sweeps through and around the deck one more time to confirm that you really weren’t around. Not near Thatch who was performing with his dual blades, not with Vista who was in an arm wrestling contest with Jozu. Haruta, Blamenco, Jiru—Seas, where were you?

His eyebrows settle onto a dissatisfied expression as he turns to Marco who had been sitting a few inches away from him the entire time. His golden hair reflected the light from the lanterns, waving with the gentle breeze.

“Hey Marco,” He calls out, effectively reining the first division commander to his side of the deck with a hum of acknowledgement. Marco blinked slowly, the telltale haze of alcohol just starting to settle in his eyes. “Have you seen [name] around? She didn’t tell me where she was going last.”

Marco considers his question for a moment, dropping the tankard that was rising to his lips as he looked over to where the nurses were gathered, all the way over to the other side of the deck. “Pretty sure she went to ask Tate something, yoi. Why, something happen?” Ace waves off Marco’s masked concern with a smile, patting himself down as he stood up from his spot.

“Nah nothing like that. Just wanna see her.”

Marco snickered under his breath, his refined self-control from teasing waning a little from the amount of alcohol already in his system. “Sure you do, lover boy.”

Ace doesn’t give Marco any more chances to rib him, walking away and toward the circle of women who were just as loud as the men were. Jecka and Louis were the first to notice his approach, but it was Tate who addressed him when he was near enough. Tate grinned over a bite of some fries. “Welcome Ace. Is there another twisted muscle we can help you with?” She teased, referring back to the disastrous muscle sprain he got in his inner thigh, nearing his family jewels.

The alcohol in his system was enough to let Ace move on from any lick of embarrassment, laughing along. “Yeah yeah. I’m here for [name] though, have you seen her around?”

“Oh!” Recognition lit up Tate’s eyes before her teasing smile extended much wider, if that were possible. The other women around exchange eye contact amongst themselves. It was clear they knew something he didn’t, and that it was something to rib him for again given the giggles that erupted while hushed whispers went around. Tate pressed her eyebrows together, whispering as she says, “Poor girl’s been uncomfortable for a while. Why don’t you go help her, Ace? There’s probably no one else who could.”

Alarm shot through Ace, and suddenly all the trace alcohol in him evaporated. “Why? Is she sick?”

Tate hummed, “Something like that. She’ll probably explain it best though, I think she said she went to your quarters.” He nodded, not wanting to linger for much longer now that he knew what he knew. He thanks the ladies and jogs away, gripping his hat so it doesn’t fly off from his head.

The sounds of the raucous men, brawling, food fights, and laughter slowly drown out as Ace descends into the lower levels of the Moby Dick, growing dimmer and dimmer with every step down. Past the galley where the party continued to rage on with the smell of food enticing any would-be passerbys. Ace continues on, deciding that food was better eaten when you were with him, better tasting too.

He finds himself in the hallways to the commanders’ suites, separate from the shared bunks for the normal ranked pirate crew. It was eerily quiet in comparison to the deck’s loud party, he could basically hear himself think, and that was an unnerving thought to consider.

Just past Marco’s quarters were his own. Reassurance fills Ace when he sees that the door was cracked ajar slightly, the soft flickering light from a lantern inside was gently pouring out into the empty hallway as if beckoning to him in invitation. He walks slowly, trying to burn away the remainder of the alcohol that lingered in his system while mustering up the best of him he could. Tate mentioned that you were feeling unwell, so he needs to be able to comfort you properly.

The closer he drew to the door, however, the more he could hear the sounds of someone not being sick.

Ace’s eyes widened in disbelief as wet sounds leaked out from the crack from the door. He almost completely withheld from breathing altogether as he walked even closer, trying to listen better so that he could confirm what exactly it was he was hearing.

Through the crack of the door he could see that you’re sitting cross-legged on the bed and turned away from the door. Your top completely off and discarded near you, painting the image that you probably threw your shirt and bra off in haste to..

To do what?

Ace suddenly sobered up. He swallowed roughly when his eyes lifted higher, trailing up the side of your waist and immediately latching onto the sight of your breasts out in the open air. His mouth falls open. They were slightly larger, swollen and a little flushed with a thin sheen of sweat layered over every surface of your skin. Your hands and fingers are pushing into your mounds while you held a white towel in level with your nipples, and it didn’t take much effort before something trickled down.

Ace’s throat dried up like the Sahara Desert, feeling thirsty all of a sudden.

He had to bite down on his lips to keep himself from making any noise. He couldn’t, however, keep his eyes from briefly going back down your body that was shimmering with sheen, over the curve of your ass, and back up to your chest. Before finally-finally attempting to look at your face.

He knew he had to look at your face last because there was the high probability that he’d just cum in his pants right then and there. And he was right. It only took one glance at your face before he dramatically swung his head to the other side, tearing his gaze away to gaze at the empty hallway to his left.

Your face–he begrudged–your pretty face was dripping with effort. Eyebrows were upturned and pinched together, eyelids were closed and yet eyelashes were still fluttering. Your pouting lips were parted with shuddering breaths probably slipping past because he couldn’t hear you clearly. He’d seen that face many times before, and usually it’s his reward when he takes too much time teasing you. Frustrated and needy.

Fuck, Ace was as hard as a rock.

“A-Ace? Are you there?”

He jumped in his boots at the sudden mention, giving away the fact that he was indeed there from the way the soles hit the planked floors with a loud thud. He coughed out a knot in his throat and pressed back closer to his bedroom door, forcefully placing sad images in his thoughts to will his hard-on to not exist. The image of Izou’s angry face, Thatch’s ugly laughing, the awful haircut Marco got three weeks ago—anything, anything to take him out of the mood.

“Y-Yeah doll it’s me, uh,” what does he do now? He’d just been caught creeping on his girlfriend, well, creeping might be much but still. He placed a hand on the back of his neck, rubbing the space. “Sorry, I couldn’t find you around the party and I got real worried. Are you okay?” Ace shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the hallway unusually quiet save for the hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of old wood beneath his shoes. He frowned.

You don’t speak for a moment, and Ace worried that you actually weren’t okay at all. The longer the silence stayed, the more he’s worrying that he might be the cause for it. He steps a little closer to the door again, hoping his voice was loud enough to reach you without it echoing down the hall. “Doll? If you’re not feeling well I could always come ba—”

“No no!” Your quick interjection stopped Ace from even turning his body to leave. You hesitate again, and the fumbling of sheets was barely audible from his end. “Uh, Ace? Could you.. could you help me with something?”

You had spoken the second request in a tone too soft he might have missed if it weren’t for the fact that he was hyper aware of you at the moment. He ignores the sudden increased beat rate of his heart and he speaks, “Of course, yeah yeah. Uh, do you want me to come inside?”

Yes yes yes yes.

“Yes please..”

It was all he needed to hear before he finally pushed the door open ajar, closing it hastily behind him with the distinct click of the lock. He kept his gaze low to the floor at first, building up the suspense before he lifts his head again. He forces a relaxed grin, which may have faltered a little when he saw that your tits were still very much still out in the open. Naked and aching. The worst part was that he could see it even clearer; the way they glistened with sweat and milk, which went directly down to his dick.

Still, he manages to keep it together for your sake.

He walks closer towards the bed, casually bringing himself closer as he sat down on the edge of the mattress, angling himself so he could hide his raging erection. He moved his hat away and pushed his hair back so that he wouldn’t miss anything.

Seas, the way your pretty face was distorting to a pout really wasn’t helping.

You were frowning heavily and it was clear you were a little agitated from the way your eyebrows were twitching.  “Sorry for worrying you Ace I just.. “ Your eyes cast down to your tits as you finally addressed the elephant in the room. “My chest has been bothering me for so long.” You sigh out in frustration as you held your rack out as if they were a separate part of you.

Ace had enough sense to hum in response to will you to continue, his eyes stubbornly avoiding the swell of your chest with the strength of a thousand Whitebeards.

Your voice broke in frustration, “I started leaking two weeks ago for no reason. I asked Tate and the nurses why it was happening and what I could do about it and they said that it was a genetic thing!” Ah, that explains the large shirts and sweaters you began wearing despite the warm weather, and the fact that you haven’t been letting him see your exposed torso for three days should have probably been more suspicious.

“Apparently—usually—women make breast milk when they have kids. But, there’s also a genetic chance that it just—” You inhaled a frustrated breath in as milk suddenly drips from your breasts in great timing. “—happens.”

That also explains the giggling from the nurses. “And what did they say about.. dealing with it?”

“That I either wait it out for my hormones to go back to normal or.. to squeeze some out to alleviate the amount myself.” You gesture to the towel in your hands, which are three pumps away from being completely drenched. “I tried to wait it out, I really did, but after the first week they just started hurting a lot. And no matter how much I milk out of myself I just keep making more.” You groan as your arms slump back down from holding your chest up for too long.

As aroused as Ace was, hearing that you were under so much discomfort was also upsetting him now. He grimaced, moving slightly so he could shift a little closer to you. “Shit doll, that sounds like a pain in the ass. I know I don’t got tits but is there anything I could do to help you?”

You jolt, and suddenly you’ve become more conscious of yourself, your ears and shoulders burning with heat. “More like a pain in the back but..” you suddenly can’t seem to meet his eyes. “Could you.. help me.. milk them?”

Yes yes yes yes.

He stared at the bed sheets for a good second, willing those unsavory thoughts back to life as he convinces himself to be rational about this. ‘Your girlfriend’s in pain you horndog! It’s not the time to be thinkin with your dick right now, it’s all about thinking with your tits—wait no not with your tits, definitely meant something else.’ He smacks his palm over his face in an attempt to physically slap the ideas out of him.

“Ace?” Your weak voice calls out, snapping him out of his fantasized stupor. After he peeled his palm away, he sees that you’re looking at him with concern while your hands were busy bringing up a blanket over your body. Great. Now he made you feel self-conscious, what a great boyfriend he was.

Quickly, he plastered on his best grin and turned his body so he could address you better. “‘Course I could! How do you want me?” Maybe he said those words with a little too much enthusiasm but the delight that flashes over your features made him feel better.

You don’t answer him right away. There’s hesitation in your movements as if you were debating over completely flashing him or not just yet. You’re clearly at a loss too, not expecting to be assisted in any way like this. Ace had an idea though.

“Alright, scooch a little forward sweetheart, let me get behind you.”

He worked through the straps of his boots for a second, making sure to take a little time on them to make sure he didn’t look overly eager. The pair are fixed over to the side just as he fixed the shoes you had kicked away on the floor as well. He wrapped his fingers around his precious hat, taking it off before placing it carefully on the nightstand. He gets off the bed for a second and walks over toward the headboard, crawling behind you with awkward movement due to the limited space of the mattress.

Ace slots himself behind you with either leg beside your body, his hands carefully laying on your waist for comfort. “You can lean back on me, doll. I’ll support everything so you don’t have to lift a muscle.” Even though he winks and he was sure you couldn’t see it, he sees the effect he has on you. The way your ears and the surface of your shoulders flush with heat was adorable.

He couldn’t help but place a little kiss on the junction of your neck and your shoulders. Your body jumps at the suden contact and you seethed his name under a breath, he laughs with a half-hearted apology. You were so warm, even he with the mera-mera fruit could admit to that.

As soon as your back met his chest, he could feel a shiver run up your spine. You probably forgot that he was shirtless too, which was a feat in itself because he was shirtless all the time. He carefully wrapped his arms around your middle, holding you against his body so tightly that there was no possibility of air in between you. Your breasts rested on his forearms while your hands finally lower down to rest on his thighs.

“D’you trust me?” He asked as he pressed an equally heated kiss on the side of your face. He felt you nod and felt the way your body simply relaxed against him. “Of course, Ace. I trust you more than I trust myself.” You laugh lightly.

“If that was true we’d definitely be dead by now. If not scrubbing the lower decks for some dumb stuff I’d have us doing.”

“As long as you’re there, it’ll be fun.”

He buried the stupid grin on his face in your hair before he could say something embarrassingly sincere, before the grin on his face got even more ridiculous than it already was. Always so genuine and unabashed, you laughing in his arms was the best part of any day he had. He was glad he could take your mind off of your discomfort at least a little.

Back to the task at hand, he took the towel you were using to soak the milk with. The fact that it was already damp and heavy was a testament to how much you really had. He had you lead back against him even more, laying your head on the space of his shoulder. He swallowed nervously as he retracted his arms from your middle, trailing his rough palms up your soft stomach before laying right under your breasts and finally getting a feel of their weight.

He groaned. He just couldn’t help himself. They were so heavy and warm that they were practically melting in his hands.

Choosing to ignore what seemed to be the beginning of his fascination with your tits, you begin to instruct him with your right hand on his wrist. “I already pumped out enough to soak a single towel. Usually I’d keep going until the towel is full then I’ll dump them on the bucket on the floor.” Ace trailed his eyes over to where you pointed and there was, in fact, a single bucket with a towel inside on the floor.

He nods in understanding, but at the same time, there was a nagging idea in the back of his head, one that was too embarrassing to even acknowledge to life. He asked, “You don’t just pump into the bucket directly?”

“Like a cow?” That cute pout was probably on your face again when you retort. “I already feel like one. I wouldn’t appreciate looking like one either.”

Ace apologized again with a chuckle. “Not what I was implying, sweetheart.” He pressed another kiss on your cheek, one that lingered longer and one where he dragged his lips over your jaw. “It just seems like a waste, is all.”

You sigh, understanding where he was coming from. “Well it’s not like we have babies on board. I could try to save some and have them refrigerated so we could give it away to a hospital or a nursery on the next island but..” You release a different kind of sigh when his large fingers finally press into the sides of your left tit, the liquid quickly caught onto the towel under it. Ace does his best to go deaf, refusing to acknowledge how sweet you sounded.

“..The only fridges around here are in the kitchen. I don’t want Thatch and the other chefs mistaking it for food, and I don’t really wanna tell Thatch that I’m leaking like a heifer..” Yeah no. The idea of having the piece of you be consumed by anyone other than himself was enough to get him feeling mad.

Wait. Consume.

He considers it for a long minute while his fingers dutifully squeezes from the base of them and moves up to your nipples, deliberately avoiding the pebbled tips to avoid turning this into anything else. But damn, Ace just can’t think about anything else.

“A-Ahn..” It was even worse now that you were moaning into his ear, gasping and sighing while your breath brushed over the shell of it. “Hah..!”

How was he supposed to do this with a straight face?

The reasonable part of his brain continued to shrink and shrink, becoming more muddled with every shuddering breath you release, and the way you adjust on his lap, inadvertently grinding on his raging hard-on. From your scent that smelled like the floral bath soap and your shampoo that always got him going, to the heady scent that came from your sweat and your tits. He had to apologize for that though, he was probably as hot as a heater right now.

A particular angle when he pressed down with his fingers near your areolas has your head rolling back into his shoulder with a heavy moan. It caused him to pause abruptly, fingers freezing in place.

Ace hadn’t said anything for a long while, long enough that you had already come down from the high of the pleasure. You looked at him in confusion through your lashes, your fingers squeezing at his clothed thighs for a response. You called out his name and asked if he was alright.

Ace sucks a breath in, easing up his work on your tits. There was just no way. No way to keep this up without him busting a load in his shorts right then and there. He needed to say it, and he needed to say it now while he wasn’t high off of you.

“I’m about to say something and just know that you’re free to kick me out of the room and never trust me with sorta thing ever again”

This was stupid, really a one of a kind idea only Ace could ever think of, but if he had to say that it wasn’t filling up his body with arousal then he’d be lying.

You tilt your head over to the side a little, worry dragging along your eyebrows. “Mhm?”

“Can I..” Ace’s voice rumbled with need that was barely contained during his impeccable restraint, a tone that had your body shivering with the same arousal. “.. drink from your tits?”

He felt your body stiffen up in his hold. Usually such a blatant response would be enough to get him to retract a statement, if it weren’t for the fact that his brain was now officially out of the game. He pressed his face right into your throat, rubbing his head up and down your side like a cat would as he begged, “Please please please, sweetheart? I’ve been thinking about it for so long..”

It wasn’t a lie nor a sudden realization; your tits were magnificent, a bonus to what you already offered to him. The amount of times Ace had thought about drowning in your tits was enough to make a man go insane, at least ten-maybe-fifty times before during one of your many romps. At the time, however, you weren’t leaking like this; all full and needy. This time, it was like his prayers were being answered and he was being given the best excuse to fulfill them.

“And I’m real thirsty..” In a cruel gesture, the pads of his fingers finally press into your tips he’s been deliberately avoiding, gently rolling and only lightly pinching at your sensitive tits with great precision. Your back involuntarily arched at the feeling, trying to run away from it to no avail. He was wrapped around you like a snake, trapping you. “And you did say it was a waste..”

The moans being directly broadcasted and sighed into your ears made the ends of your hair stand on end. You had to bite back your own moan when you finally noticed the pressure of his hips pressing against your ass, the hardness under all of that denim grinding ever so slowly. You scramble to find purchase on your hold on his thighs, trying to escape his rutting hips that was coaxing your pussy to life. 

Well, it’s not like you haven’t felt the weight of the heady atmosphere a few minutes before, you’re sure you’ve already soaked through your panties way before he had even touched you. Did you ever have dreams about this sort of scenario before? Yes, you couldn’t even deny it. And yet, you didn’t believe you’d be mentally ready in a million years for how rabid Ace was about to become in the event of this.

“Please?” He pitifully begs again as he gently bites your earlobe before pressing a kiss onto the space behind your ears, his hot breath turning the shell of your ear even redder. One of his large hands released your tit, ghosting down your stomach before playing with the button of your shorts, harshly rubbing your pussy over the denim material. Your hips responded eagerly, bucking up into his large palm.

“I’ll be real good to you.. promise.”

In truth, your pussy has already been dripping wet ever since Ace had his hands on you; it was just the sort of effect he always had on you. Every little thing he did was arousing, even his boyish smiles were enough to make you want to spread your legs and ride his face until he learns how to breathe in pussy.

The only real reason why you’re resisting now is because you’re afraid you’re going to absolutely soak the bed. Your girls react to the smallest amount of pressure!

“Th-The bed’ll be soaked, Ace!” You whisper screamed, only to be quickly deflected with a, “So what? We’ve had to get rid of bedsheets in even worse state.” You hated how he had a point, a very embarrassing point.

Right now where Ace was volunteering to take care of all of it, it was hard to find a reason to say no. And the more you thought about it, the more it horrified you to conclude that it was because there was no reason to say no at all. You groan, your body was absolutely tingling with need and arousal now that the option was opened to you. The need to be dicked down is simply being drilled into you with every fuck of his hips.

As soon as you turned your head to meet Ace’s eyes, you were overtaken by a kiss. Quick pecks that were still hard and needy only because the angle wasn’t allowing him to press any deeper than that. Ace’s nose nudges against yours briefly. 

He gazes into your eyes with unfair desperation, and you had to curse yourself over the fact that cute and handsome boyish features were your worst weaknesses. 

“.. Okay.” 

Stars sparkle in his eyes at the signal. In a speed that almost looked impossible, he unlatches his hands from your chest, carefully pushing you forward so you had the space to turn around to meet him face-to-face, only, he’s delighted to find that he’s already face-to-tits with you as your knees went on either side of his hips. Your hands land on his hard shoulders which were constantly flexing as he wrapped his forearms back around your waist.

Heat licks at your face when Ace placed his chin right on your chest, grinning up at you with his boyish charm and his stupid smile. He was always so cute, his boyish features were always so roguish and handsome. Only, that cute charm ended there. The rippling muscles that engulfed you and the hardness that was pressing against your pussy were anything but.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me, sweetheart. Thank you, really.” You had to avert your eyes away before he lures you into his daze any deeper. His hair is a little sweaty when your fingers carded all over the back of his head to pet him. You press a kiss against his sweaty forehead, mumbling, “You're the one doing all the work you know. I should be the one thanking you.”

“Nahh, I’m the one who’s getting the better deal from this.” Ace pressed kisses all over your bust, soft but hot. The almost wet noise from his sweet kisses were doing things to you.

You mumble, “.. Are you sure about this?”

“Hell yeah! I could drink five gallons of milk without a problem!”

That wasn’t exactly as reassuring as it should have been. You grumbled, “I doubt I have that much.”

Ace grinned, teeth nipping at your taut skin. “Keep pouting like that and your tits and your lips won’t be the only part of you I kiss tonight.”

That got you to look away, turning your face to the side because you knew he wouldn’t let you hide behind your hands. “J-Just focus on my boobs please.” It’s unbelievable how that’s not the most embarrassing thing that was said today.

Ace grinned wider. “Aye aye.” His hands went back over to cup under your breasts, lifting the weight up as he brought them up to his face. He groaned again, “Helloo girls.” You had to bite back another wave of complaints and decided that you’ll just have to deal with the fact that your Ace was falling in love with your tits.

His pretty gray eyes took one last confirming look up at you, and despite your reservations about the entire thing, you weren’t about to deny Ace any sort of pleasure. Even if it came from the form of your tits.

As if to confirm, you shifted slightly where you sat, straightening your spine and rolling your shoulders back just enough to give him easier access and to keep him from hurting his back. Your teeth clung to your bottom lip, fingers clenching a little harder into his hair follicles as he finally stuck his tongue out, tentatively dragging his rough taste buds over your right nipple.

The sudden jolt of pleasure was an unexpected sensation, the fact that your tits were just increasing in sensitivity was almost a little absurd. Milk came out easily, almost eagerly, surprising even yourself when the white liquid escaped his tongue. Ace immediately latched onto you, chasing the droplets that had escaped his mouth. Nasty sounds of slurping and groaning filled the room space, as well as your own breathy moans from how sensitive and how much buzzing pleasure was spiking through your chest.

He eagerly lapped up the milk with forceful gulps as if that’d give him more, no, the only thing it did was bring you even more pleasure.

You try to pull back from the mounting pleasure, to ease up a little before it became overwhelming, only for you to accidentally grind down onto his hard-on. Mutters of quick apologies cascade from your mouth as Ace groaned particularly loudly at the contact. Only to be vindicated by Ace’s hum of approval that went straight through your tits and into your pussy

His hands wander down your back and to your ass, gripping the fat harshly before encouraging you to grind even more on him. Your limbs clumsily move when his hips worked up to chase your own. So you oblige after another whimpered apology, the rough fabric of your and his shorts pressed clumsily against your pussy with enough pressure to snag against your clit.

Hissing and groaning, you work your hips even more, chasing more and more of the friction that has your thighs clenching. “A–Ace..!” He hummed again as he took a very audible gulp. He’d take a chunk of breath through his mouth and nose before diving back in for more.

Suck, swallow, breathe.

Again and again.

Warm liquid dripped down on Ace’s clavicle, quickly trickling down his chest and onto his stomach. It was then he realized your other side was being neglected.

Ace swirled his tongue all around your bud as a parting gesture before letting go with a very audible pop. You could barely see well enough to witness a string of saliva connect from your chest to his mouth. The sight was driving you wild. Ace was always so messy, you didn’t expect that such a thing would turn you on by this much. You take the chance of respite to tug at your shorts, your eyes begging with unshed tears as you lift yourself a little from his lap.

“Ace-Ace—off off-!”

“I-I hear you, sweetheart. Hold on.” Ace hissed as the pressure on his dick finally eased up. Fuck, does it not want it to be though. He already misses the way your hips rutted against him, his cock was basically begging for some proper attention. He helped you pull back to your haunches with a steadying hand. He half expected you to get down from the mattress so that you could stand and get rid of them there, but no, instead you laid on your back and lifted your hips off the mattress.

Ace felt himself suck another breath in and his mouth fill up with saliva. You were tugging your shorts down in the position, loosening it with a single button pop before pulling it over your legs. First came your luscious ass that jiggled from the simple strip, and immediately after is your pretty pussy—all puffy and bothered from the desperate dry humping. He even appreciated the fact that you had gotten rid of your panties in one go as well.

The best part was when he could see your soaked pussy glisten from the soft lantern glow. Outlined and enticing, Ace swallowed another mouthful of saliva.

Just as you were clambering to get back into Ace’s lap, a single hand to the back of your right thigh was enough to push you back down onto your back, surprising you. Right now you were staring right at the bedroom’s ceiling, which was barely visible from the single point of light in the room. Your hands grip onto the mattress’ bedsheets as you try to push yourself back up using your elbows.

A single hot breath that swept through your folds was enough to ground you right where you were. Your heart hammered right into your ribcage as you whimpered out Ace’s name in concern.

Your pathetic little whimper earns you a single deliberate lick from your weeping hole to your clit, making your legs jut out in surprise. Ace’s tongue was a little rough and big, it didn’t help that he was hot to the touch either. It feels good-so so good. The single lick has your body trembling in need.

“Sorry doll could’n’—” He takes another taste, laying his tongue even flatter as he grazed your clit. “—help myself.”

“Whenever I see my favorite food all I wanna do is dig in—” Two of his digits worm themselves in between your legs, helping to spread your pussy lips open for more access. “—M’real sorry.”

‘That was awful.’ was what you wanted to say over his corny little one-liner, but you couldn’t really mutter out the words even if you wanted to. Ace began to eat you out as if he hadn’t been drowning in your tits seconds before. He focused on your clit first, gently sucking and licking while he diligently coated his rough fingers in your wet juices.

“Ahn,,ngh! Ace-uh..!”

Your thighs snapped around his head in muscle memory, and so do your hands as they intertwine with his black locks. You buck your hips up and into his face, where he responds in kind and continues to push into you, letting his nose take over your sensitive clit while his tongue and his fingers begin to slowly work inside your leaking hole. “You taste so good, the b-best” He’d hum into you, only ever increasing your pleasure more.

It’s always like he was in heaven whenever he was in between your legs. The taste of you, the smell of you, the way your soft thighs always clamp around him like a snug little blanket. Fuck, he needs to do this every night. He needs to get his fill of high with you every time.

His middle finger carefully goes in first, gently cricking and curling to find that little spot by the entrance of your pussy that has you keening. “HHNG!” Oh, he found it already. His fingers continue to curl in a consistent pace, playing a ‘come-hither’ motion that hit your delicious little spot. Your pussy was buzzing with pleasure, and yet all you could think about was how you wanted Ace to be more, bigger, deeper inside you. 

Your tits were leaking already like you had feared, and yet right now you couldn’t find it in you to care. All there was to think about was Ace and his stupid thick fingers and his mouth. You could feel the way his sloppy technique spread your wetness everywhere. It stuck to your thighs, your pelvis, down to your asshole, and even on his face. Seas help him if he really does get it all over his face.

You’re gushing, absolutely leaking into Ace’s mouth. But not quite how he wants you to, it’s almost not enough. He wants, no, needs you to squirt all over his face, and if not, then his dick. Whichever one comes first. He’s just gluttonous like that.

Your breathy moans suddenly became clipped and louder, signaling the rush of your incoming climax, and he had to pull away from your cute little clit to encourage you a little. “Come on, sweetheart. Ride my face like you mean it.” He stopped curling his fingers, straightening out a little before fucking them back deep into your pussy, just how you like them. A jolt goes through your muscles, making you cry loudly from the sudden burst of pleasure.

“Yes yes yes yes.” Your mind may have been turning to mush, but there was enough sobriety hanging in you for you to recognize Ace’s command. Your hips begin to move and ride his face without abandon, simply chasing your pleasure as Ace’s tongue returned to your clit, the stimulation has you keening and shuddering uncontrollably.

The only thing you could hear now was the wet squelching from Ace’s fingers and the slurping and sucking from his mouth. You might as well have hyperfixated on it from the way that you ignored your own moans.

Back arching off the bed, you continue to chant Ace’s name like a choir, begging and praising him as your body burned with his heat. The fingers deep inside you don’t relent, only shifting lightly to really hit the spot that made you see stars.

Fuck, your tits were leaking again, dripping all over your chest and down your body. You bring your hands up to your chest in a hurry, acting upon the only rational decision you could think of at the moment and clamped your fingers around your nipples, successfully momentarily stopping the flow. You almost scream from the stimulation, your body jolting, stopping your hips from moving into Ace’s face.

But it was alright, Ace’s greedy mouth kept eating you out like there was no tomorrow, salivating all over your pussy and himself. His thick fingers fuck into that gummy spot inside you, the one that has your spine arching and your soft thighs wrapping around his ears. He even took a chance to look up at you, noticing that your smaller hands were clutching your pretty tits, and Ace could only double his efforts in response.

“AHN-AC-E—ACE AH AH AH ANGH CUM-C-CUMMING! ACE M’CUMMING!”

Something along the lines of “Cum for me, sweetheart.” was spoken into your pussy, right into your sensitive little clit, and that was enough to have your body seizing.

Your pussy walls clamped down onto Ace’s digits as your hips pushed into Ace’s face. His eyes immediately shoot up to your face, your sweet face was contorted in sweet pleasure and your poor lips swollen from being bit down upon by your teeth. Warm liquid bursts from your pussy, messy and tasting just like you, just as he liked it.

His name continued to be babbled from your throat as his tongue continued to lap at your clit as your orgasm wracked through your body. His hair follicles scream as your fingers desperately tug into his sweaty locks. “‘Nuff, please please enough-nuff Ace..!” A vulgar shlick was the final noise from his mouth before he finally pulled away from you.

You lock eyes, and all you could do was stare in slight fear and anticipation at the hunger dripping from his eyes and from his lips. “I can’t believe,” he began in between a handful of air. His tongue peaked out from his mouth, dragging across his swollen lips before it pulled into a happy grin. “That I’m actually ‘Eating you up’!” 

You groan. Ace, on the other hand, was giggling to himself sort of in a bit of a tizzy while he pushes himself up until his face levelled with your chest. The rough texture of his shorts graze against your sensitive pussy, making you jolt light. It doesn’t stop at the single thrust, he continued to dry hump you for a little longer.

Before he finally hooked a finger into one of his belt loops and slid his shorts down and over his ass. Or at least that was what you could see beyond your vision where his long strands of hair were hiding.

You whimpered in delight when the familiar feeling of Ace’s hard cock was pressing right against the folds of your pussy, its warmth was unmatched. It felt even hotter than his body, which had to be impossible. In its place between your thighs, Ace’s cock slid between your skin drenched in slick, slobbering itself up.

Ace begged for your attention, his eyebrows pinched together as he pressed up to you. “Doll, give me a kiss.” It was a demand, not at all a gentle request as he pressed a hand to the nape of your neck to pull your head down to his.

And of course you comply despite your foggy pleasure-driven head, eagerly lapping up at his tongue when it pushed into your mouth. Your arms immediately went over Ace’s neck to pull him close. You're both breathing in each other’s air, and it only further served to cloud up your head with even more need.

The blunt head of Ace’s cock nudged at your clit, sending a jolt through your body again because it was still as sensitive as Ace had left it after eating you out like an animal, before trailing down to press against the entrance of your pussy. A strong jolt of anticipation ran through your nerves as Ace’s strong thighs press hover over the back of yours while your legs go over both sides of his hips.

“Mng—!” You keen into the kiss as his cock slowly slid into you, allowing you to feel every inch of him and the veins that shaped his length. The entrance of his thick cock was made easier because of your previous orgasm and his sloppy tongue. Something you've grown to appreciate after months of ‘getting to know him’. You had to break the kiss in order to breathe properly, your toes clenching in the air as he continued to fill you up more and more.

Ace wasn't faring much better, his face was scrunched up in effort when he felt your soft walls clench down on him. He pressed an elbow right by your head to stabilize himself, his strong body didn't even tremble from the exhausting position. His name flowed out of your swollen lips with every inch entered.

Ace was just staring at your face the entire time, drinking in your expressions and your noise and your words. Everything about you. “Pretty,” he muttered almost reveringly. “Feels so good, I missed this.” Yeah, the last time he had the priveledge of burying his dick inside you was almost a week ago. Most of your physical needs were done orally, which was great yes, but your pussy was just so much better.

Just as he was already half-way inside you, he suddenly snapped his hips forward, filling you up in seconds.

“!!!” Your body tensed at the sudden jolt of pleasure, your head thrown back as your hands gripped onto his strong shoulders. You had barely stopped yourself from cumming a second time as your pussy clamped down in response. It was as if the wind had been fucked right out of you.

His strong thighs were now pressed right against yours that were trembling. The motion spread the wet slick from the cunnilingus, absolutely smearing all over your connected hips. Ace trailed kisses all over your face, which you respond in kind to until you eventually descend back into sloppy kissing.

He then pulled back, dragging himself out slowly while also parting your kisses. And although the space he left as he dragged it out left a hollow feeling inside you, it was amazing to feel his hard cock slide into every nook and cranny of you. You stared up and into Ace’s face, watching how concentration was etched in every inch of his face right up until his eyes finally looked down into yours. He sent you his usual charming grin as he pressed his forehead right into yours.

Then, just as his tip was about to pop out, he snapped his hips back up, creating a wet slap that only made the feeling of his cock driving into you even better. A strong shudder went up your body. You could feel your lips lifting into a pleasured smile when Ace did it again. And again. And again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

You couldn’t help but close your eyes from the force. Your nails scratched at his skin as your body began bouncing from his momentum, magnifying the force of your connection. His cock was hitting all of your best places like it always did, fucking all of the remaining coherent thoughts that were possible.

The noises were beyond obscene; noises you weren’t afraid to add into with your own whimpers and keening and moaning. You were like a broken record on repeat, letting out feeble squealing and whining because Ace’s cock felt so big inside you, stretching you out so nicely.

“Feels good..! Feels so good, Ace!” You hiccuped in bliss, the words irregularly bumping in volume every time his dick drove back into you. Tears were lining your lashes from how delicious it all felt, flowing freely when you opened your eyes again to look at his that were staring at you. “L-Love your c-cock..! Love youuu..” He responds in kind, whispering praises of how good you felt around him and how hot and soft you were directly into your sensitive ears.

He grinned, probably feeling proud of himself. “Love you too. Keep cumming on my dick, y-yeah?”

The word latched onto your brain, acting like a trigger when you feel the height of pleasure rapidly approaching. Your clit was suddenly being ground by Ace’s hips from the way his body was furiously grinding into you. “Yessss! Cum-cumming M’cummi—♥” Your voice breaks.

It was astounding how quickly he was sending you back into the path of another climax. Suppose because of how close this one is to the heels of the previous, it was probably the reason why your body was so sensitive to everything.

Ace’s unoccupied hand ghosted over your wet skin, toward your chest, and allowed his rough fingers to wrap around your tit once more, happy to find that it was once again dripping like a faucet. He gently tweaked it to your liking, the pleasure immediately shooting to your brain as it doubled the sensations that were wracking your body.

An even stronger spike of pleasure was ripped through you when Ace fucked you at an angle, sending you on your way to another mind-shattering orgasm. Your body curls up, knocking into him as your head throws back into the sheets. “ACE!” Curses tumbled out of his lips while your legs kick up, pussy clenching all around him as your orgasm is fucked right out of you. You gasp for air, choking on it as if you were on his cock.

“Oh fuck–!” The freckled man hissed at the sudden pressure. His pace faltered but he sent one more good fuck of his hips in. You gasped at the harsh thrust, feeling it slam deep inside you before you're filled up with all of him. It was hot, thick as well from how much it was swelling inside. You heaved a moan, cumming even harder against Ace at the unexpected release. Your legs shook from the second(?) orgasm.

It feels so good–he feels so good. Your brain may have actually blanked out from that mind-blowing creampie while your body was still coaxing more of his cum inside you.

Ace doesn't stop, however, doesn’t even give you a five second break because his hips were still moving. How Ace had this much amount of energy and strength was beyond you, literally and figuratively. While you didn’t have many complaints over it, what was concerning was the fact that his softening dick was being coaxed to life inside you. He was quite literally stroking himself back to hardness.

The pleasure may actually be never ending when Ace was like this; pussy-drunk and tit-drunk in every definition of the sense. The smell of beer was still present beyond the scent of your cunt in his breath, which may have attributed to his very abundant energy at the moment. Your mind was all but gone, filled with nothing but Ace in every possible sensation.

Without warning, Ace pulled his face back down to level with your chest while his hips began to slowly pull back, dragging himself out again before pushing back in with a little more speed. Just a little. Your breasts buzzed with pleasure when Ace’s warm tongue wrapped around the tit that wasn't sucked empty earlier. He began to suck, dragging his tongue all over your sensitive tit, and milk began to pour back out and into his mouth.

Pleasured noises and hums rumble from his throat as his hips continue to make love to you, making sure his cock was engulfed in your softness after every time he pulls back out. The loud gulps were just as obscene as the slick noises from your pussy, heightening your senses.

A whimper left your throat when Ace inevitably hardened from the tip to his hilt once more, and you had to mentally and physically prepare yourself for the next fucking of your lifetime. “A-Ace, wait now..” You should have known better. “Give me a second to breathe at least.” There was no way you'd be able to bargain your way out even if you wanted to, and you didn't necessarily want to unless cramps began to set in. Ace responded by humming into your skin in disagreement.

“But,” Ace argued with a whine he knew you found adorable. “I’m feeling full too sweetheart. And your pussy’s the only one who I want to drain me dry.’

The mixed cum that was leaking from your hole was frothing with every pass of Ace’s cock, making the sound even worse and more erotic when he began slamming his hips into yours. Your hands instinctively move to brace on his shoulders again as tears freely dripped from your eyes from the utter never ending buzz of overstimulation, just like the milk was from your tits.

The small room was being quickly occupied by obscene sounds if it wasn't already before.

Your tits may have been making your life hell for almost a week, at least someone else appreciates them.

…

“What's wrong with him?”

Marco asked aloud as his eyes trailed after the second division commander who.. was sporting the biggest unhappy expression on his face. In fact, his thick eyebrow was twitching, his lips were pulled down to a grimace that may or may not have given him new wrinkles, his arms were constantly tied across his chest tthat it looked ready to cramp; Ace was sulking. There was no other way to describe him.

Frankly, it was adorale. You can only laugh when you glanced up from your list of storage items to see that your boyfriend still hasn't gotten over the news you had this morning. The fact that he’s not even attempting to hide how broody he’s being made it even funnier. “He's fine, he's just pouting.”

“I am not pouting!” Ace’s yell was barely audible over the voices of the other crew members, and whatever response he had in retaliation was drowned out by the laughter of the same said pirates who couldn't take Ace’s flare of indignation.

Marco’s clinical eye dropped down to you. “What's he so upset about now?”

You simply shook your head, dropping your attention down to the list in your hands. “Nothing.” It was very much not nothing. 

Morning was a very eventful time for you and Ace for different reasons. Ace because he wanted to fuck and touch you one more time with his tongue before duty began, and you because you found out you could finally move around without your tits leaking during something as simple as walking. You were pleasantly surprised when you woke up with a dry shirt, the same shirt that you dressed in after cleaning up.

Ace didn't take the news well. Apparently, he’d grown quite attached to your chest during that short amount of time he was given express permission to milk you dry and had planned a lot for the future ahead. Something he doesn’t usually and explicitly do. “I was just getting used to it too!” He said with a very dismayed expression without even a hint of humor. You laughed and gave him kisses all over his face while thanking him for his duty.

When night came, you were dragging a confused Ace by the hand towards his room right after dinner had concluded. He had significantly cooled down throughout the day and had basically gone through every phase of the grieving process until he was at acceptance.

“You wanna sleep in my room tonight, doll?” He asked, pleasantly surprised because it wasn't every night that you did, mostly because Marco had limited that privilege to four times a week otherwise no one would be able to sleep.

You don't answer him, only eagerly locking the door behind him as soon as he stepped inside. “Woah now hold on—” He stumbled back when you pushed him towards his bed, and he had the audacity to look up at you with those pretty eyes of his in bewilderment as if he had no idea this was where it was heading. His hands immediately locked around your waist when his ass met the mattress and your legs locked on either side of his hips.

“Wow, are you really that pent up why’re—” When you basically ripped your top off your body, Ace’s tone drastically slowed. His eyes darting down to your precious tits that were seconds away from bursting once more. “—.. we rushing..?” You could see him audibly swallow. 

You laugh, slowly grinding into the already hardening mound under you. “While I don't have to be leaking for you to suck my tits, I need your help again one more time.”

[ikintsugii]

—‷ BIRDY'S PICK ‴

CHAPTER 2: PREPPING SUMMARY: In a world full of pseudo fruits that could allow people to turn into pseudo omegas, Marco craves for a genuine one. It's not every day that the First Division Commander stakes distinct claim on anything, but when he yearns for something, it's all his. AO3: Birdy's Pick on AO3 CW: DUBCON, kidnapping, coercion, A/B/O dynamics, intimacy, vaginal sex, forced orgasms, praise kink, knotting, 18+ mdni NOTE: Man, I should probably add more tags CHAPTERS: CH 1-Cravings, CH 2-Prepping, CH 3-Measuring,

     As soon as your legs felt the solid ground of the Moby Dick, your body crumbled. The world spun for a moment, tilting and twisting in a nauseating ripple, and your vision dimmed at the edges. But before you could crash against the planks on the deck, strong arms swept around your back in a steady grip. Marco had just caught you, and you were grateful for his support despite everything. You allowed yourself this one luxury and pressed your forehead against his solid chest going face-to-face with his tattoo while your breath and your soul caught up to you.

The tangy and sweet scent came rushing back into your nose. You had half expected your body to begin reacting violently again but you’re glad nothing was happening of the sort, or at least not yet. So you indulge in the calming act and allowed yourself to breathe.

The man with the pompadour landed more graciously than you did. Seems like he’s used to the heights, or flying, or Marco’s heights when flying. Unlike you, he looked entirely unbothered by the drop, even offering a cheeky grin to the crewmates gathering nearby. 

You’re suddenly made aware of the pirate crew. Invasive conversations and loud murmurs are everywhere all around you. If you listened closely enough, you could piece together a consensus of what they probably thought of the new face on board. And you’re not sure if you’re mentally or physically ready if those opinions turn out to be less than kind or savory.

You tried to pull away instinctively, but Marco’s arm only tightened slightly around your back. His other hand moved to shield the back of your head as you tried to burrow deeper, hiding from the noise, the eyes, the weight of curiosity. Your hands tuck in between your body and his in an attempt to hide as much of yourself as possible. Marco seems to understand your intent and allowed you.

“Marco, who do you have there?”

One voice amongst the others stood out. He wasn’t loud or screaming like the rest, and yet, his voice was grave and deep, vibrating deep into your head. As if it couldn’t be any worse there was another one; another apex alpha.

Just how many could possibly be on board on this ship? You swallowed hard as your stomach twisted in reaction. Your nails curled reflexively into Marco’s skin, wanting to hide from this new man in particular.

Instead of ignoring this voice like the rest of the men who were crowding around you, Marco had actually began responding. “This one’s mine, Pops.” He stated. Your shoulders jumped up at the statement. You didn’t know how to react to it, or if you should at all.

“That so?” There was an amused bark of laughter following that statement. You could hear something lift from the ground momentarily before a loud chugging commenced, and then a slam of it. The loud sound made you jump a little from how close it was. Marco rubbed his palm over your hair again.

The deep voice asked again. “She a shy one?”

“She means no disrespect.” Was what you were doing out of turn? Disrespectful already? Were they going to throw you away because of your silence? Nevertheless of your increased shuddering, Marco added, “I think they pumped them full of something so she’s a lot more skittish. I’ll introduce you properly after she settles, yoi.”

 A beat of silence. “Alright. Move on, then.”

What did that mean? You couldn’t help but wonder. Before you could think on it any longer, you felt another arm wrap around your legs before you’re lifted back up. You didn’t understand what had just happened but the pressure in the air suddenly lessened. You don’t dare show your face in the open, and buried your face into Marco’s chest even more.

“Thatch, if you could make something a little light, yoi.”

“Yeah yeah.” Thatch spoke up, but his voice was already fading away in a way that indicated that he was also walking away. “You’re welcome, if you care.”

Soon, the many voices and the loud noises of ship life drowned out behind you. You could tell you were being brought down to the lower levels of the ship, you could feel the confines of wooden walls wrap around you as he descended the stairs, the sound of your breathing became louder than anything else.

Marco walked for a time longer than you had expected. Just how big was this ship?

There were many different scents that invaded your nose the longer he went. And it was beginning to become nauseating, especially when it was intermingling with Marco’s scent which was stronger than anything else. Sweet and heady, it still clng to you. You clamped your fingers over your nose. It had comforted you on the deck but now that it mixed in with everything else, it was starting to twist your stomach.

You could feel Marco adjust his head so that his lips was closer to your ears, sending shivers of fear down your spine when his voice rumbled low in a whisper.

“Just a little longer.”

Eventually, Marco finally stopped walking. There was the click of a doorknob, the opening of a door, the creaking of the floorboards as he stepped inside, then the closing of the door behind you. The contrast from the noisy deck to the silence of this room was almost deafening if not for the pounding of your heart against your eardrums. You finally peeled yourself from Marco’s chest, blearily looking around to take in your surroundings.

A bedroom.

Your body shook even harder.

Cold sweat dripped from your forehead to your chin, your body suddenly lost the warmth that should have flowed with your blood. ‘ Now? ’ you hurriedly thought as he walked over to the only bed in the room. You couldn’t even look around the space properly to see what it looked like, the bed was the only thing that screamed important at the moment. He took a seat, placing you on his lap while locking you into place with an arm around your waist.

“!!” You tense up when you felt Marco press his nose up into the side of your face, right behind your ear where your scent glands were. He took strong whiffs, his humming and prodding sent sensations down your body, intermingling with your fear. “W-Wait..” You barely whimper, torn between defiance and obedience fueled by fear. How harshly would he hurt you for disobeying? Did you want to find out?

The alpha paid no heed to your protest and continued to sniff out your glands to the column of your neck. His nose ghosted over your skin and it sent prickling sensations all over your body. Your hands press against his chest, pushing lightly, ready to shove him off in the moment you felt the blunt surface of his teeth.

He.. he wasn’t going to claim you, right? Was that what this was? You’re not ready, you didn’t know if that sort of bonding was possible outside of an omega’s heat.

Actually, did he even know that you were an omega? Was that why he was doing all of this?

“They really did pack you full of suppressants, yoi. I can only smell you properly when you’re this close.” His voice is directly breathed into your neck. It tickled and you involuntarily moved on his lap from it, your hands flounder before settling to find support from the arm he’s holding your body with. One gripped his shoulder; the other settled against the inside of his elbow, fingers curling against warm skin. “You have a lovely scent..”

The smell of fruit and sweetness hit you again, thicker now that your nose was nearly against his throat; sweet, singed, and far too intoxicating. Your head grew foggy, vision tunneling slightly from the weight of everything: his warmth, his attention, the suppressed chemical chaos inside your bloodstream.

Another jolt spiked through when you felt the hot surface of his tongue suddenly dipped onto your skin, dragging along gently. His tongue was large, maybe even bigger than the size of your ear. You’re beginning to feel hazy under the hot mood and you’re quickly losing your senses.

Just as your head was about to completely fuzz over from his scent, your hormones or the hormonal suppressants, Marco suddenly pulled away and placed a small distance from your head. You blink.

“You’re taking a bath,” he stated almost clinically, a mood change so drastic you think you might be experiencing whiplash and in a tone that made you wonder if you should feel embarrassed over essentially being told that you smelt terrible. “And then I’ll be giving you a check-up, I need to check if we have anything that could dissolve the suppressants in you. Or if not, I’m sure I could devise a treatment plan to flush it out as soon as possible.” Again, you blink as you stare up at Marco’s face as he ponders to himself.

Marco’s hands move all around you, trailing up to hold both of your forearms in his palms before carefully angling them to check on your antecubital fossa. And you don’t struggle. You might as well do what he wants for now, you didn’t know what would happen to you if the other people outside had their hands on you. You also wanted to ease into Marco���s good graces for as long as he was dishing it out.

Pain pulsed persistently when you finally stopped ignoring the state your arms were in. There were small puncture sites all over the creases of your joints as well as bruising. Ugly and uneven. The worst ones were already developing into small scars, affecting your arms deeply when your muscles were slightly stiff in their movements. You had to bite down on your lip to keep it from wobbling and looked away from the disturbing sight.

Marco unexpectedly pressed his temple against your own as he ghosted a thumb over them, the flickers of his blue flames appearing. And with a few passes of gentle pressing, it looked like he was physically wiping your injuries away.

You watched in silence, watching in wonder once more at the devil fruit at work.

Marco was furious. From how terrible your arms looked, it was clear the people who were in charge of the drugs used needles and directly injected them into your bloodstream. Repeatedly. With awful technique. Bruising, slight inflammation, petechiae, he doesn’t doubt that you probably have a collapsed vein or two. Bastards.

Marco managed to keep his disdain and displeasure in control, but in all honesty, his emotions were all running in overdrive and he wasn’t sure which one to express first. Fury for finding out the extent of the injuries they left on you? Satisfaction for finding you? Lust because you smell a little sweet and all he wants is to devour you from bottom up?

Nevertheless, he understood what the first course of action was.

Marco finished healing all of the visible injuries and bruises on you, including the tender spot on your face he managed to feel when he held your face back on the fishing vessel.

Then, he stood up with you still in his arms. For a moment, you simply watched as he moved about in confusion, only to realize that he was most likely transferring you to clean you, just like he told you he would.

Now that you were looking closely, there was another door directly attached to his bedroom, which you assumed was a bathroom now that he was walking towards it.

Your bare feet finally hit the ground, and you’re glad there was enough strength in your legs that you could stand on your own. You’re in a bit of a daze, still reeling in from the suddenness of it all, but you manage to frantically take stock of what the bathroom had to offer. A toilet, a shower with glass walls, a sink, a couple hooks with towels on them, and not much else. Though, you supposed a pirate who wasn’t the captain would only be allowed a handful of luxuries.

“Strip.” The first division commander spoke up so casually you half-wondered if you heard him wrong. When you finally looked back at Marco, you found him watching you, waiting for something. You were unaware of the fact that your body was instinctively backing away until your back suddenly hit the wall opposite of where Marco was. Your display of fear only seemed to earn you an eyebrow raise from him. “Unless you prefer bathing in your clothes?”

Well, you didn’t. But you also don’t prefer bathing with other people present.

You shook your head lightly to answer Marco’s question. The haunting tick of annoyance that would often furrow people's eyebrows to show their annoyance at your disobedience was unexpectedly absent. He appeared deceptively calm, tilting his head to the side as if he was sizing you up. He hummed, “Which one was it? Refusal to strip or refusal to bathe with your clothes on?”

You didn’t know. Both? Was that a rhetorical question?

“I.. I don't..” Your voice comes out small, still uncomfortable and unnatural sounding from the lack of use. You sputter, trying to piece together a response that wouldn’t incur anger but would still allow you autonomy, even if it only came in small amounts. “C-Could I.. shower on my own?”

The dead stare and the silence was enough to make you regret opening your mouth. The seconds longer he stayed unresponsive, the more you drift your gaze away.

Finally, he speaks. “I can’t let you do that. Your body is weak, yoi, you might not even be able to turn the knob to open the shower.” He unwraps the knot his arms were made into, pushing open the door to the shower. Your eyes follow the movement, feeling as if you had just taken another step to something dangerous. He walked over and twisted the faucet to demonstrate, letting hot water stream down before adjusting it to a mild temperature.

“Besides, I’ll help you with the spots you won’t be able to reach. You need a thorough cleaning so I can treat you after.” He added with that unmoving relaxed tone. He then displayed his palm back up to you, his eyes now more dangerous and commanding.

You understood what he was expecting of you, and you understood that you didn’t really have the right or ability to defy him. So, with small unsure steps, you walk towards him.

Marco had held his hand out in anticipation of your own. He’s left pleasantly surprised, however, when you slot your face into his palm instead. Whether it was an attempt to dissuade his growing impatience or a genuine need of his affection, it didn’t matter to him. He’s learning that he’s enjoying leaning into your affection and obedience.

He’s sure he’ll be able to earn a more genuine reaction out of you in due time.

He cradles your cheek, swiping his thumb over your cheek and under your eye which you have both screwed shut. He guides the pad of his finger in-between your eyebrows in order to ease the deep creases as well. He pets you like that for a moment, paying no mind to the water that was actively being wasted until he could see you slowly relax; Your clenched fists relax in the way they held your dress and the deep frown recedes by a centimeter.

“Good girl.” He's learning that you also like being praised for such obedience, even if you probably wouldn’t ever admit it aloud. The way you're beginning to gently rubbing your cheek into his palm was evidence enough to prove his point. His other hand landed on your shoulder, teasing the crease of your collar. “Now, stay still, yoi.”

You tense up again, caught up in your seeking of affection to realize that you still needed to be stripped of your clothing. You do stay still, feeling nothing but the heat from Marco’s palms as he walks to get behind you. His hands trail from your shoulders to your back where the laces to your milkmaid dress were intertwined.

The cloth from your dress ruffle loudly before the sounds of strings untying fill into your ears. Ever so slightly, your dress loosens just as your stomach tightens. Then more, and more, and more, until the room air spread throughout your naked back. Your shoulders hiked up to the level of your ears as you clutch the front of your dress into a knot to keep it from falling.

One of Marco’s warm fingers slowly ghosted over the length of your spine while his other hand settled on your waist to keep you in place. You’re wondering what he’s looking for with the way he prodded silently over your back and the nape of your neck. Then, as soon as he had finished inspecting your skin, his hands finally slipped under your clothes, tugging the material over your body.

The dress that your siblings had bought you, the one that you’ve taken care of and mended many times over now sat uselessly on the floor. You quickly gather the flimsy thing and folded it as neatly as you could. Thankfully Marco doesn’t stop you from doing so, in fact, he looks happy to see that you’re not completely immobilized by fear. Now you’re standing only in your undergarments, ones that don’t stay on long because even you were dying to take them off.

You shrivelled slightly under the watchful eyes as his gaze roved all around you. You weren’t sure what he was even seeing or if he was staring because you were unsightly under all your clothes. There had to be more than a few bruises and injuries on you, and you’re feeling conflicted. You don’t want to feel undesirable, but you also don’t want to be taken advantage of.

“Do you also need me to carry you in?” Marco suddenly mused and you shook your head. “Go on then.”

The call of the water actually sounded more enticing. If you showered quickly enough, it would take you a shorter time to remain undressed. You took steps into the shower space, tentatively holding your hand out to the water to feel for the temperature. It was perfect, pleasantly warm.

Warm water hit your body. And it felt as if a switch was flipped, melting down the ice that had stiffened your muscles to the point of painful tension. You release a shuddering breath and took more steps inside the tiled floor.

You felt weeks build up of dirt and grime finally ebb away with every drop of water. It felt nice to finally feel a little cleaner. You turn your face up toward the shower head, allowing the water to blind you. Carding your fingers through your hair, you attempt to untangle some of the knots that had persisted, only managing to pick through the smaller ones. After wiping your face to get rid of the water from your eyes, you look around the shower to find a shelf with shampoo, a bar of soap, and a rough little ball of cloth that was most likely used to exfoliate.

You slowly pick up the exfoliator first, rubbing it along your arm. The results were quick and grey clumps that were a little bigger than usual began to form with every pass. Before long, your entire body was scrubbed top to bottom, with the only space left unscrubbed being—

“I’ll scrub your back, hand it over, yoi.”

You had almost forgotten that Marco was in the same room as you. Looking back, you saw how he had rolled the sleeves to his purple shirt back to his elbows, showing his profoundly strong arms. You hand over the towel quickly, wrapping your arms around your front while you turn your back to his direction. 

You stand awkwardly still as Marco placed his hand back onto its-now favorite-spot on your waist. The rough surface of the towel is laid on your back before it began to scrub from top to bottom. Your body bristled a little when it dipped down to your lower back, just shy above your sensitive tail bone. He was surprisingly gentle about it, he might even be using his devil fruit to ease some of your back pain from the way it began to feel better the longer he went.

“So,” he spoke up at last, voice smooth and low as he gestured casually toward the shelf to your side. His fingers pointed toward the shampoo bottle, which you then pick up and hand over. The sound of shampoo being squirted out from the bottle was almost mute to the rest of the noise. He asked, “What’s your name?”

Oh, right. You haven’t actually done a proper introduction.

You think about it for a moment, the pros and cons of sharing your name, before allowing the syllables of your name to slip past. The hesitation is a little nerve-wracking because you didn’t want him to think that you were defying. It just felt as if giving him your name was too personal, the last people who got to hear such a thing from you had been subsequently left behind in exchange for you on board. Still, he would have been able to squeeze that information out of you anyhow.

Marco’s palm finds itself back on top of your head, now lathering the shampoo he had squeezed out onto your hair. He scrubbed the shampoo deep into your scalp, and you’re loathe to find that the act felt very nice because it felt like he was massaging the tension away. You could faintly hear him test your name with his tongue before humming contentedly.

“Which sea are you from?”

You busied yourself and picked at your nails to remove the dirt from under them. “.. The East, sir.”

Marco let out an chuckle, the sound low and amused. “No need to call me sir, it doesn’t suit me, yoi. But you must call me by my name when you can.” You nod immediately.

“Yes, Marco.” You spoke in the same clipped tone you did back in the fake fishing vessel, crossing Marco unexpectedly.

He continued nonetheless, “That being said, looks like you’re from the same sea Ace is from. You might—” Marco caught the slimy feeling of discontent when the words ‘ you might get along with him well ’ slithered in his head. He pecked at the idea, found that it tasted bitter on his tongue, and settled instead on, “—have something in common. Are you from Dawn Island by chance?”

Who was Ace? You didn’t know, so you shook your head, no. “No, Marco. I..” Oh, your hometown. Memories of your precious sanctuary and your family came rushing in and you had to bite back a strangled sob from the sudden emotions. You miss them terribly. You yearn to wake up from this terrible nightmare everyday, waiting for the embrace of your siblings and the warmth of the home you lived with them.

“I’m from a smaller island. W-We don’t have nobility or anything special really, it’s barely a good trading hub if not for the fruit and alcohol production. I-I think our braised meat is also pretty popular.” You caught yourself before you began to ramble on. He asked a simple question and you answered him with an entire trivia.

“Oho?” He gestured over for the bar of soap and again you gave it to him. The soap pressed against your back. As soon as he lathered it against you, you could smell the faint herbal scent from it. “Are you saying you can make nice braised meat?”

“N-No, we—I was more of a baker than a chef.” You say quickly, cheeks burning under the sudden interest.

 “The man with the pompadour earlier was our head commander in the culinary division. He—” And again, the disgusting feeling of fury wrapped around his head at the thought that Thatch ‘ could teach you a thing or two about cooking ’. “—is cooking something up for you as we speak.” You remember that quick order from Marco back on deck. Now that you thought about it, the thought of eating anything that wasn’t unrecognizable slop was making your stomach grumble in need.

Marco rinsed his hands as soon as he handed the soap off to you, despite the fact that he was already straining terribly to continue his care over to your front. The more your body was washed of the filth and the more he healed you of your injuries, the more of your actual skin finally peaked through. The skin as he touched you was nothing less than soft, and with a bit of proper care and nutrition into you he had no doubt that you would look healthier.

And how adorable was that? He acquired himself a baker. Marco may not have a strong sweet tooth, but he’s more than amenable to the idea if you looked just as sweet as you looked. Everything about you looked good enough to devour, and you were so cute he could hardly contain himself had he been of a less tempered man.

You had a lot more injuries that he had anticipated, and while that warranted a lot of anger from him, he was also content with the idea of being your primary caretaker until you were in top health. He should probably feel terrible for purposefully leaving a few of the bigger bruises, but you’ll heal. Slowly. Just because of him.

He watched intently as you swiped at your body with the soap he had, the bubbling of the soap on the peaks of your breasts were enticing. He was particularly interested when your hands dipped in between your legs, sheepishly and hurriedly cleaning your sensitive areas. He wanted to lick you and groom you with his tongue, but he understood that casual grooming held no candle to actual bathing.

You then began to slowly rinse all of the soap and shampoo suds from your body. Scrubbing at your face once more until the water carried the last of the dirt that came in the form of whiteheads and oil.

The water was finally running clear. Your skin, raw and flushed, steamed faintly under the heat. You stood still and enjoyed the warmth of water for a little longer. Eventually, you were completely done and you shut the shower. The sudden silence was jarring. Cold air immediately nipped at your damp skin, goosebumps rising in its wake.

 And Marco waited outside the shower with a towel draped over his arm. He didn’t need to speak in order to make you step out onto the wooden floorboards once more. You’re still attempting to maintain decency as you covered your front with a flush of heat covering your body from head to toe, padding over as Marco opened the towel wide.

You extended your hand to take the towel, but the look of disapproval on the alpha’s face was enough for you to drop your hands back into place over your chest. Marco doesn’t mention the flounder and instead began to wipe the water droplets from your body. From your arms to your back, he even lowered a knee to the floor in order to wipe down your legs and the curve of your ass.

Heat fueled by humiliation and anxiety continued to burn through you when he did so, and when he stood back up, he simply nudged at the arms that wrapped around your chest in order for you to hesitantly drop them to wring over one another at your front. The cold air of the room nipped at your breasts, causing your nipples to perk up. You looked away, lip wobbling once more.

Marco took his time drying your chest, passing it under your mounds and under your armpits until the only wet thing left was your hair. To his credit he mostly kept everything clinical and it made it easier for you to simply dissociate and ignore how humiliating it was to be treated like a child.

Then again, you’ve been treated much worse than this.

The towel was left wrapped around your hair as he led you back into his room. You shook a little from how cold the room was compared to the shower but you quickly settle on the bed with your back bent and your arms over your most private areas while Marco rummaged through the only wardrobe in the bedroom. You finally took a look around the room, a proper one.

The room had more than enough height for people to stand tall, clearly enough for a man like Marco who was a few feet shy of 7ft. The bed sat pushed into the corner, layered in clean sheets and a white blanket that looked freshly laundered. A desk lined the wall opposite it, cluttered with maps, folded letters, ink bottles, and a few feathers you wondered if it belonged to him. A small porthole filtered in morning light while the lantern on the desk was lit to illuminate the night.

Marco finally returned to you with something in hands which looked to be a white shirt. And when he unfolded it in front of you, you guessed right. It was similar to the vibrant button-up he was currently wearing with the only difference being color. It was large, nearly engulfing you when he slipped the arm holes through your own.

Aside from the shirt, it doesn’t look like he has anything else for you to wear, and you don’t know if you should feel glad that you didn’t have to wear more of his clothes or feel terrible because you were still very exposed. When the two of the buttons were closed up for you, you couldn’t help but sniff at the material. It was clean but you could still smell his underlying scent interwoven into the threads from the many years he’s worn the garment.

“!!!”

One moment you were upright, and the next, the world tilted on its axis. A firm, almost effortless force had gripped you by the thighs, your center of gravity pulled out from under you, and now you were staring at the ceiling. The wind had just been knocked out of you from the impact. What just happened? 

You didn’t have to wonder for long, however, as you came face-to-face with Marco. Only this time, you’re only centimeters away from one another with almost no space for new air to draft in, so you could feel his breath fan over your face and you’re sure he could probably feel yours. His knees were planted on either side of your thighs, practically caging you in with his own body.

Your hands immediately fly up in reflex to press against his chest to push him back, or tried to anyway, his body was too firm, too strong, for you to really make a difference at all. It was like trying to push a wall made of heat and muscle. His blue eyes are glowing under the haze of the evening, stamping you into place.

Is he..!?

His gaze burned into you, full of understanding that was frightening. And when he spoke, it came to fruition. “You’re a genuine omega, aren’t you?”

The words were soft but they splashed against you harshly like cold water, causing cold sweat to form all over your body. You couldn’t contain your emotions, which was already a dead giveaway, but you stubbornly shut your eyes and shook your face side-to-side to deny it in a panicked jerky motion.

Suddenly, your face is held steady by a firm hand, now tightly gripping your jaw as your eyes stung with heat. “ What did I say about using your words? ” He actually growled at you, and this time, you couldn’t stop the tears that slid down your warming cheeks. This push and pull of kindness and then harsh dominance was confuddling, your senses were going haywire with uncertainty. “ Answer me properly, omega .” He snipped, absolutely certain about his assessment with the way he was using the title.

“I-I’m not a genuine omega, a-alpha..!” You hiccuped pathetically through your pursed lips.

He considered your answer for a moment, taking in your quickly souring scent just as you spoke his title with absolue submission. He tilted his head as if the change in angle would show your lie in a different light.

Then, he nodded once, slowly, as if that had confirmed something for him. “I’m asking this question because I need a truthful answer from you, yoi. If you truly are a pseudo omega, I would need to run tests in order to confirm that. This would include blood work and hormonal testing, and I would need to think of a treatment plan based on that blood work.”

Blood work?

Your ears rang with the rising thrum of panic. His voice warped around the edges of your thoughts; bloodwork, tests, treatment plan, and suddenly the bed didn’t feel real beneath you. The memories and the sensations of pins and needles prickling at your body seems to hit you like a bullet, striking right through you.

A raw, guttural wail tore out of your throat before you could contain it. “GET OFF OF ME!” You shoved against Marco without paying any mind to the fact that it would most likely get you a sure case of reprimands, actually managing to move him in your fear and panic. Tears continue to fall freely as you breathe for air, sobs escaping you.

Your nails scratched at his skin and you were sure you had managed to make him bleed. The tips of your fingers felt too wet and warm. Your legs kicked out, knees knocking against his solid body that just felt like an unmovable wall. 

Marco let you ride out this episode, watching as your tears rolled down your cheeks unbidden. He didn’t raise his voice or try to placate you. Instead, he leaned back to give you more room for you to breathe. That, somehow, only made the it feel worse however.

You immediately reached for him, desperately trying to drag the only body that was around. Marco couldn’t help but watch you with confusion.

‘Omegas are deeply emotional,’ He recalled a few words from a book the crew had plundered from a ship owned by royalty from some island. ‘And in times of great distress, they seek out the closest form of comfort. They are social and prefer the company of fellow omegas or alphas.’

He watched your precious face that was still grimacing in terror, pain, and desperation. You were still pushing him away but also locking him in strong grip with fingers that threatened to embed into his flesh if he moved even a centimeter away.

So, he leaned in closer, the tip of his nose brushing against yours. Then, a deep low rumble began to vibrate from his chest. It was so deep that you didn’t hear it first, and yet when you did, it choked out your sobs into stunned silence. Your legs settled back down onto the mattress, sinking into the plush as if it were filled with lead. Your hands finally released their grips and you could see a flicker of blue light appear for a second.

He was purring , a deeply intimate gesture that was rich and warm. And you felt terrible because it was working . 

Seas it was working. You hated it. You hated that it was even more comforting than when your siblings did it for you. You hated that your limbs were beginning to feel like jelly as the deep vibrations blanketed you warmly. You hiccupped once more, swallowing the saliva that threatened to drip from your mouth.

The calm was clearing the haze and the blurr from your eyes. And now that you could see properly, you were now making eye contact with Marco once more. “If you were a genuine omega, I would not need to do any further testing. Lying to me would mean making me hurt you unnecessarily, do you understand?” He spoke softly, telling you all of it as if he was keeping your best interests in mind. 

Silence fell between you both aside from your occassional hiccups. Heavy in waiting.

“If you speak the truth with me, at least your cards are on the table and I’ll be able to play for you.” The stern hold on your jaw loosened and the tender hold he used to do to you returned. The frightening gaze eased up softly. “You can rely on me.”

Your throat clenched too tight to answer. You gave a weak stuttering nod instead, your eyes wide, lashes wet, as you stared at him like he was something far too big to comprehend. The way he says those words and the implication of them were confusing, not because they made no sense, but because his words are beginning to twist into something else in your head.

The confirmation to court you as a mate.

It was a scary thought, an unprecedented one. You’ve never stopped to consider such a thing since your kidnapping, in fact, you were frightened of the idea of being bonded to someone who you don’t want to live with for the rest of your life.

But..

If you tell the truth, you might never get your freedom back.

If you lie.. you might lose the only person who seems willing to protect you out in these seas..

Even if he terrifies you.

“.. I am a genuine omega.” You whispered, defeated, the strength in all of your limbs was lost and you simply limp against the bed—against him. The confession might have broken something in you. You refused to look up at Marco, afraid to find the satisfaction and the victory that was no doubt on his face.

You focused on the way your tears dried terribly on your face and stared at the wood grain of the wall far away from you, taking away all of the pleasure and peace from the shower, the only thing good that has happened to you so far. It felt hopeless, everything felt vulnerable and you don’t believe there was coming back from announcing such a thing out loud.

If you thought escape was hard before, then it would be impossible now that you were on an Emperor’s ship. Even the Marines wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Your body is tired and your tear ducts are all but dried up. And as of now, you might be experiencing an emotional crash from sustaining fear-driven adrenaline for hours on end. 

You just wanna..

“Go to sleep, yoi.” For a mind-bending moment, you were suddenly pushed up and oriented correctly to the bed’s length. You found yourself now staring at the ceiling again with the only difference being that there was a pillow now under your head. The texture of the blanket ghosted over the bare skin of your legs before settling under your chin. You’ve just been tucked in.

Blearily, you look around for Marco, only to find that you were alone in the room. His disappearance tugged at a deep string of panic inside you even though you were dead tired.

“I doubt you’ve got the energy to eat dinner, so you’ll have to make up for it in breakfast.” Apparently he was in the bathroom because he just emerged from it with a towel in hand. He walked back towards you and sat right next to you on the bed. The towel was dunked into water, you observed, because it felt damp when he cleaned your face from your dried tear stains and your snot.

“For now, sleep. I’ll make sure your hair dries soon.” He honestly didn’t need to tell you that; you were already drifting off to sleep. You could barely lift your lips before you succumbed to slumber.

[ikintsugii]

—‷ BIRDY'S PICK ‴

CHAPTER 1: CRAVINGS SUMMARY: In a world full of pseudo fruits that could allow people to turn into pseudo omegas, Marco craves for a genuine one. It's not every day that the First Division Commander stakes distinct claim on anything, but when he yearns for something, it's all his. AO3: Birdy's Pick on AO3 CW: DUBCON, kidnapping, coercion, A/B/O dynamics, intimacy, vaginal sex, forced orgasms, praise kink, knotting, 18+ mdni NOTE: I figured it out ›¦) CHAPTERS: CH 1-Cravings, CH 2-Prepping, CH 3-Measuring,

     Chains rub together in a loud symphony of metal. They hit each other and click as its captives move at a consistent pace.

“Move it along!”

Though not at a good pace it seems.

The one in front of you yelped as her cuffs were pulled roughly, sending her crashing onto the floor. You managed to control the sudden jolt of the connected chains and barely remained on your feet. Her body shook at the impact, one so harsh there was the high chance she was going to gain a new bruise, but no protest nor complaint left her shut mouth as she stood right back onto her weak legs. Had she remained on the floor a second longer a new bruise wasn't all that she was going to get.

The man who had pulled at the cuffs sneered, refraining from inflicting any further punishment. “We're in a rush, damn tramps!” He shouted, loud enough that a couple of the people behind you had begun to cry in emotional distress. You were no better. After all, it was all hopeless.

After your capture and kidnapping three weeks ago, you had been subjected to cruelty you've never imagined before.

The warmth of the homemade meals you had no longer filled your stomach and you could only yearn when your eyes are closed. Now, your stomach churned at the mere thought of feeding time. Swallowing anything they gave you was more punishment than reward. Your tastebuds were dulling and you swore everything began to taste like the exact same thing.

The clothes you had worn have become dirtied and damaged, not having been replaced at all for all of those three weeks. Three weeks of neglect had twisted them beyond recognition, soaked through with sweat and the occasional spatter of blood, not all of it your own. You didn’t know whose. You didn’t want to know.

You had never seen the face of war or faced the dark side of life, never experienced real struggle outside the occasional illness or financial struggle. You had never fought anyone, never raised a fist in anger because you never had to, and yet now your body was marred with cuts and bruises from top to bottom.

You missed your siblings. You missed home terribly. You missed the petty little arguments and jabs. You missed agonizing over burnt pastries and failed recipes because feeling upset over them meant that you could do it again and feel joy in accomplishing something. And yet, every waking moment of your life in this hell felt like you were being mocked because one way or another, the end result was going to be the same.

You were going to be owned by someone. Your choices are no longer your own.

You lived in relative peace; isolated. It wasn’t a daily occurrence for you to be in the presence of other people long enough to acclimate to their second labels. Had you never stepped into the market that morning, none of this would’ve happened. You replayed that day again and again, wishing to find some fork in the road you could've avoided. You agonized over the details, the possibilities, the choices made for a simple supply run that day.

But you just couldn’t have known. None of your siblings stopped you because it was a normal day, you didn’t hesitate to leave because you were excited to try a new pastry, you lingered in town because you wanted to see what new dairy stock came from the merchant ships. You just couldn’t have done that day any different.

Alphas, betas, omegas, it had all just been labels to you, never something that meant much in your daily life. And yet, when that pair of kidnappers had grabbed you and drugged you, the first thing you had smelled aside from the chloroform was their pungent scents. They were no alphas, definitely betas.

The transition from no exposure to heavy scents to becoming absolutely covered in an amalgamation of random ones caused your body to create many unnatural reactions. It had frightened you, confused you; your body reacting in unfamiliar responses was an unwelcomed change; sudden flushes of heat, tremors, unexplained nausea. You had no anchor. No control. Each reaction terrified you because you didn’t know what your body was doing.

This experience was further worsened when you had been poked and prodded; assessed like livestock by the people who wanted to sell you. The elastic surface of their invasive hands lingered in your skin like disgusting bugs. They had paid particular attention to the space between your legs, your scent gland, your breasts, and your face.

“A real omega! It’s too bad we’re not allowed to smell her!” Their victorious laughter haunts you. "We're gonna be rich! How much will a Celestial Dragon buy her for!?"

Back in your hometown, there were many betas and only a handful of alphas. And even then they were an overwhelming presence. This percentage was true for all of the corners of the seas.

Omegas? Omegas were rare. They were a precious commodity.

Which was why there was a massive underground black market for them. In fact, there were two types of omega trafficking. The harder and much more precious type was the trafficking of real omegas and underground auctioning.

And the other was the production of pseudo devil fruit that could replicate omega qualities. Which would often than not be forcefully fed to unwilling victims. The side effects were tremendously frightening, with only a 5% chance the fruit would work as intended. And even then, it couldn't ever hope to replicate the true essence of an omega. Those who failed to gain those qualities would be subjected to any if not all: increased sensitivity, destroyed sense of coordination, uncontrollable emotions, uncontrollable mood swings, physical alterations of the endocrine and reproductive system, and many more.

The worst it could be would be the accumulation of them all, essentially overloading their bodies until they burn out completely: comatosing them. You had overheard enough to know that someone named Joker was behind these pseudo devil fruits.

“Oi! Be careful with the merchandise. These ones are top-grade!” Another one of the slave trader workers gets in the face of the first one before eventually descending into a petty screaming fight full of hands. The label shakes you violently to your core. Top-grade, they have been calling you that since they've taken you. The other four people who were bound together with you were also labeled as ‘top-grade’.

Word had traveled quickly after silence for two weeks, two weeks of nothing but eating and sleeping, news had spread amongst the rest of the slaves that the organization finally made a move and were arranging an underground auction in the New World. It was reminiscent of the walk criminals took when they're sentenced to the guillotine, the possibility of other people owning any one of you was basically a death sentence.

The seawater harshly hits against the hull of the pirate ship disguised as a simple sailor ship. It was a restless night even for the sea and the weather in the dark distant horizon held no well-meaning prospects for any sort of sailing currently. The slave traders seemed to be in a rush to set sail despite the fact.

A large hulking man is quick to hold onto the lead of the chain, the iron bite of the collar tugged you forward, forcing your body to stumble down the creaking, slick stairs of the ship’s deck. He barked something out, a mix of sentences that sound mumbled in your ears.

The lower deck hit you like a physical force. The air was rank; stagnant sweat, moldy wood, saltwater, and worse. Only a handful of weak lanterns glowed in the darkness, painting the space in a dim light that cast grotesque shadows across the walls. The space was only occupied by the muffled whimpering and crying echo throughout the space, the rows of sea-prism cages lined up against the ship's wall.

Groups of ten people were each crammed into each of the cells as you passed by. Gruesomely, there were many young faces and even more faces who were clearly feeling the bad effects of the pseudo omega fruits: fatigue, discomfort, disgust, fear. You could only force yourself to look away before the disgusting meal they had served you at dinner resurfaced back up.

The only empty cell left is pried open and locked once more after the five of you filter in.

As the footsteps of the large trader finally bound back upstairs, many of the muffled crying had finally unwound into sobbing.

A few stray hot tears roll down the skin of your cheeks, but you stubbornly bite down on your bottom lip to refrain from allowing your cries to leave your throat. The reality of your future prospects have finally settled in your gut. You had been hoping, praying, that the navy, or anyone really, would have seen this ‘loading of cargo’ and rescue you all. It was a fleeting thing, but it had at least given you a reason to keep going.

And yet here you are in a cage bound for Sabaody. 

You were afraid. So afraid.

Your body violently flinched when the man behind you falls slightly forward and grazes the skin of your arm. A gasp had left you just then, but it quickly died in your throat as you regard your companion on the floor. “P-Pau?” His name leaves your mouth pathetically. With hands hovering just beyond the possibility of touching his face, you wordlessly ask him to lift his face up to you. But he couldn’t. Droplets of tears began to drop onto the palm of your hands.

“Pau has the worst reaction to the fruit amongst us five,” Helen breathes out an observation. “T-The others in the other cells must be even worse..” No one speaks a word. The cries of the others confirm that statement.

You’ve had these pitiful conversations for more than a week, what needed to be discussed has already been done so, repeating them now at this particular moment was just salt in a deep infected wound.

Your jaw tightens at the mention of the fruit. Helen had just counted you as one of them and it imbued a deep sense of guilt inside you. 

You couldn’t bear to tell them that you hadn’t been given the fruit.

Even in this hell you all came together and formed a sense of companionship. You’ve grown to care for them just as they did with you. You told them about where you came from and they did too. Their origins had surprised you because not everyone was from the East, some of them were far in the other side of the world. Which only suggested that this whole organization was far-reaching and old if they managed to operate so casually.

You refrain from physically touching Pau but even without words, you were able to ascertain that he welcomed your contact. With your back against the damp ship wall, you guide him by his shoulders and settle his head on your chest. Carefully you slot his small figure in between your bound arms and wrap them around his shoulders to cradle him gently. He grunts and cries as you do so and he only responds by moving his own bound hands to the side where it doesn’t hit your waist.

Deep and calm vibrations rumble out from your chest, and Pau tenses for only a second before completely melting into your steady purring. You could feel your top half of clothing dampening from his tears. The traffickers may have suppressed your glands and urges but they couldn’t possibly snuff out your ability to comfort others. Purring was such a method, your siblings used to do it all the time for you. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an inherent skill for anyone other than alphas and omegas. Even more not so for betas or alphas who were forced to become omegas.

The others had finally settled on the floor much like you and Pau had and joined the little pile you had made to listen to your purring. Eventually, you were draped over by the rest of them like a huge blanket and they held onto you as if you were a dying light in the middle of the void.

After the adrenaline from the move had finally subsided, the numb pain from the medicinal shots to your antecubital fossa begin to pulsate and twist, clawing up your arms and towards your hands. Even in the darkness of the room, you could see your hands tremble in pain.

You stare up at the dimly lit ceiling, your vision forcefully shifting the dark brown to what you remembered your hometown’s skies to be. Soft, cirrocumulus would float high up in the sky, extremely beyond your reach. The smell of the stale air shifts into the fresh breeze the sea blew in, salty and refreshing either way. You then began to stroke someone’s hair nearby your hands, attempting to imitate the warmth of your siblings’ embrace. 

The ship jumps to a shuddering start. It seems like they finally have everything to disembark.

The crying from the other prisoners had not ceased, only slightly drowned out by the thrashing of the sea’s waves. Your eyelids have become further weighed by your emotions and your fatigue. The warmth of the little cuddle pile was beginning to take you to the lull of sleep as well. But you persistently kept them open, you needed to keep comforting them until they all fell asleep.

It doesn’t take long before exhaustion takes you.

…

“Man, this is so scary.”

Thatch whispered with a heavy grimace on his face as another man is flung up to the height of the mainmast before falling hard on the hardwood deck, no longer moving. From death or from unconsciousness? No one was stepping up to check at the moment.

Ace couldn’t help but slowly allow his head to bob up and down in agreement, hissing as another man was thrown easily to the side with one arm, screaming all the while falling into the endless ocean. Filled with flesh-eating ocean life. Twice the size of the Moby Dick. Not to mention, it’s getting dark. So help from another ship would be highly unlikely.

“Hush you two,” Izou hissed from his spot in front of them, face impassive despite the gruesome scene in front of them. This sort of scene might not have been the worst the crew has seen per se, but it was an alarming one. Considering the fact that the only solution to this problem was miles away from their current position, if it even existed at all. “If he hears you, it’ll only worsen his mood.”

The ‘He’ they were referring to would be their very own First division commander, Marco, who was going through a line of people on their knees with an expression that was deceptively casual. The Whitebeard crew had just finished raiding a smaller pirate ship that had happened to be at the wrong place in the ocean, at the wrong time, and the wrong company. And right now, Marco the phoenix was picking through them like food, dismissing the ones who didn’t fit his liking.

Izou continued, “And if that happens, we won’t ever see the end of it. If he gets into his rutt without the proper mates he’ll come out of it even worse.”

Ace whistled low, still thinking back to the revelation he’s been told a few days before after witnessing the older man’s increasing levels of broodiness. “Marco’s stamina really is insane, I can’t believe he needs at least two people for his rutts. I mean, I’ve never heard of something like that before.” When he asked Thatch about it, he didn’t expect it to be connected to Marco’s rutt . He even entertained the idea that Marco was dying! Ace hasn’t gone through a violent rutt so he wouldn’t know.

"Well, expand your world view, kid. It’s pretty narrow and the sea’s wide.” The jab from Thatch has Ace immediately turning his head around with an indignant glare, one that the older man doesn’t humor. “But I get what you mean. I think the worst one was when Marco needed five people to satiate his rut. The only good part about it is that he always manages to get them to be willing by the time they start, which is probably more a testament to how charming Marco is than anything.”

Ace snorted at the word ‘charming’ as he leaned back on his elbows. It rolled around in his head for a second. He couldn’t really believe that when nothing about Marco is anything close to charming when he’s in a bad mood. He’s always got that scary ticked look that was made even worse by his physique that was as every bit as imposing as it was impressive. Scary, maybe. Terrifying, absolutely. Dangerous would’ve been even more fitting.

But if he thought about it—really thought about it—maybe attractive is more appropriate? A dominating alpha who knew his way in bed with strength and stamina to prove it would probably get anyone’s panty in a twist. It didn’t help that Marco was one of the best lovers on the ship, or so he’s been told by certain people.

Yeah, Ace nodded along, he could understand.

Another woman is flung to the side as Marco nears the end of the line. Ace compartmentalised those thoughts away for a moment as he whispered, “But this is just sad. How picky is he?”

Thatch shook his head with a sigh. “He isn’t. Marco doesn’t go through rutts often at all. I’d go as far to say that they’re pretty rare. As long as his partners got an agreeable personality, Marco is fine with ‘em.”

Ace could feel his facial features twist down in confusion. “Then why can’t we just ask some of the nurses? Pretty sure some of them would jump at the opportunity. I vaguely remember them having the hots for the first division comman—” Thatch knocked Ace over the head without restraint, creating a noise that vaguely sounds like Ace had nothing going up there. The younger man barely managed to bite down on his tongue before he could release a yelp that would have definitely interrupted Marco.

He turned to Thatch with an even fiercer glare, mouth opened up with a nasty snarl, and held up a fist that sparked to life in a very clear display to threaten. Thatch met the glare head-on with only a single eyebrow ticked down to show annoyance. “ Because that’s a rule Pops made years ago, probably before you were even born. No one touches the nurses unless it’s to pursue them in commitment, not some rut satiation.”

Ace blinked, momentarily thrown by the seriousness in Thatch’s voice. It wasn’t often the usually easygoing fourth division commander upped the seriousness of his tone.

“They’re betas, Ace,” Thatch continued, more steadily now. “Every single one of the nurses. That wasn’t an accident. Pops made sure of it.”

“…So?” Ace said slowly, still clearly not understanding.

“So,” Thatch snapped, “They don't feel the biological obligation to sate or fight alphas, which this crew has plenty of. They’re to be treated with a little more respect.”

Ace hummed in response, taking it in despite the simmering anger still in his system.

“Besides,” Thatch continued, his eyes still trained on the expanse of Marco’s back. ”With how things are turning out, it’s not guaranteed that Marco’s gonna like any of our nurses. He’s looking for something.”

One of the guests suddenly bolted from her position, barrelling through the deck with force that could have only been possible from adrenaline. She even had enough energy to push through some of their crewmates who had gathered as a crowd, built like bricks as they were. Marco wasn’t so bothered by her taking off, probably because he wasn’t interested in taking her either. But a single clean shot from Izou’s flintlock was enough to subdue the small ordeal. When did he draw that out?

As Izou tucked his flintlock back into the collar fold of his every day kimono, he didn’t need to signal anyone to have them already move the body off before the deck was stained with any more matter. The remainder of the opposing pirate crew didn’t attempt the same thing after, the only thing it managed to do was plummet the remaining morale and hope they had.

Ace began mumbling some of his own observations. “I guess this is just one of the prices to being an Apex alpha. Is that why they’re really only suited for omegas? Has he tried an omega partner before?”

Thatch was the one to answer again, his posture changing from stiff to more relaxed as he draped both of his arms over his legs. “If he did, I doubt he’dve let them go. When was the last time you’ve ever heard of an unclaimed omega?”

Ace actually tries to think back on it. Hearing of a real omega, period, might as well be as rare as the one piece. He doubted there was a single one back in East Blue. “.. Guess not.” He concluded, but then his thoughts drifted over to the the other sort of omega, the devil fruit-made sort. It wasn’t too much of a taboo topic, but not everyone agreed with allowing pseudo omegas to exist. More often than not the people who become one didn’t want to be one in the first place.

“What about, y’know, the pseudo omegas?” He asked, even though he already had an inkling of what he would say.

“To put it lightly,” Izou bluntly intercepted, “He said they smelled rank and their biologic senses were all over the place, he said they felt unnatural.”

“Wow.” The freckled young man breathed in disbelief. “And that’s putting it lightly?”

“Indeed.”

Marco stood over the last member of the pirate ship they had completely plundered. The blonde man was cowering on his knees, hands bound behind his back, and his forehead now pressed firmly against the floor of the ship as silent sobs escaped him. It was a sad display of fear and cowardice from an alpha, now stripped of all pretense, but even an alpha could see how unmatched he was in comparison, most especially now that his crew was gone.

He doesn’t believe he had any words to exchange with him. He didn’t even have the energy to ask him or his crewmates any other crucial questions. He flicked a single wrist in motion, and in a second he’d be joining the rest of his ship.

Marco recognized that he was being cruel and unnecessarily violent. There was no reason to be so hard on such a weak pirate crew, but a deep irritation that settled deep in the back of his head that was hard to scratch. It was making him think irrationally, move irrationally. The only way to scratch it was to find an appropriate partner with a pleasant smell. That’s how it always was during his rutts.

So why was he acting out right now? He didn’t know, and that was worse than any answer. Mostly because most of his decisions and actions were being driven by instinct. His very tightly-wound up instincts.

Nothing and nobody was satisfying his criteria, and he’s been so patient with himself and with the other people leading up to this point. The Whitebeard pirates had already gone through an entire island. From the brothels to the civilians, hell, Marco was desperate enough to sniff through the marines, to no avail. And now he’s just agitated by everything; the work, the lack of partners, his own body was working against him. Everything was pissing him off.

And currently, this single alpha by his feet was less than appealing. He hasn’t even crouched and yet he could already smell the hint of whiskey tinged with fear and despondence from his overrun scent glands. It immediately made his stomach churn.

He’s beginning to believe that sedating himself before the rutt happens might be the best solution.

“Marco,” Whitebeard’s grounding voice called out, knocking him out from another tizzy over a new course of action. The commander stopped mid-step before he could truly begin walking away, his spine all-too straight to be recognized as his usual relaxed posture. Despite the prickling from the deep agitation inside himself, Marco kept it together. He released a silent breath through his nose, and turned his body around to give his captain the respect he deserved. 

His hands slid into the pockets of his pants just so that it wouldn’t do anything without his knowing, his shoulders dropping into a lazy posture that didn't quite match his mood. “Yeah, Pops?”

The large man had been sitting on his spot during the entirety of the scene. Although there wasn’t judgement in his gaze, what was left was concern, arguably even worse for his current mood. He felt terrible for stressing the old man. “You can’t keep doing this forever. You’re burning yourself and your crew.” It was even worse when he’s being blunt about it.

He doesn’t let the comment phase him, he’s sure the crew can handle a little temper tantrum from him every now and then. But again, he understood he couldn’t extend this tantrum on forever. “I understand, yoi.” He does, he really does, but that doesn’t mean anything when the one making decisions wasn’t logic but instinct. “If I can’t figure it out on the next ship or island, I’ll probably sedate myself to get through it.”

The grimace on Whitebeard’s face showed how disapproving he was of the idea. Considering how their captain was an Apex alpha himself, he understood better than anyone how those instincts were probably killing Marco, theoretically of course, and the idea of having to sedate someone through a strong rutt sounded like a nightmare.

It wouldn’t be one shot, no. It’d have to take multiple shots of sedatives to get someone through an entire rutt. Even worse, they’d have to barricade him in his own room and continually send food to him in a safe way.

But what could Whitebeard say to that? No? It was already the best solution they have save for picking some people from the crew to help their division commander. Or well, it would be if only Marco himself wasn’t being selective with his options.

So instead, Whitebeard sighed. “The next ship it is then, boy. We can’t drift from our course because we’re already three days behind our schedule, understand?” And again, Marco obediently nodded his head, all the while sighing into himself over the possibilities of the options presented to himself, which wasn’t a lot.

The delay had been his fault. The schedule was set back because of his searching from the previous island trip, where he took time going through all the residents for a partner. It was probably proper that he suffered the consequences of his own obsessive searching.

That was a disaster.

“FISHING SHIP TO THE EAST!”

Marco felt the anger he had forcefully stamped down with his previous show of violence swell back up with tremendous power. It was sort of dizzying because of how sudden the shift was. All he could think about, however, was the fact that out of any sort of ship that could have appeared in the middle of the great grand oceans, in this specific stretch of the ocean, it had to be a fishing vessel? More often than not, a fishing vessel would be full of alphas and betas.

Okay.

Maybe Marco had been lying.

For a while, he did understand what was wrong with him, or rather, what he was looking for. And he knew why he was choosing to personally inspect each minor ship they came across, even the ones clearly beneath his notice.

An omega.

His instincts were screaming at him to find one no matter how impossible the chances were. And though it was a little shameful to be so picky with a partner when his past set-up romps worked well enough, his instincts were telling him there was nothing else in the entire seas he wanted more than that.

It’s been a festering desire for a month now, one that he thought about and attempted to satiate through more casual arrangements. But it was no use, because it wasn’t just the sexual satisfaction that he was looking for—what his entire being —was looking for. It was the scent, the intimacy, the instincts, the everything from an omega unparalleled by anything else.

Which was silly, Marco originally thought. How would he know that if he had never held an omega before? And yet here he is, obsessing, yearning, actively searching and destroying whatever kept him from one. Looks like he wouldn’t know until he finds out.

Marco bit back the growl bubbling up from his chest. Looks like he’s reserving himself to a rutt full of sedatives.

“Permission to board, cap?” Marco asked without turning. Whitebeard released a grunt that could only be translated to a ‘do whatever you want’.

“Looks like that’s our cue!” Their ever-energetic second division commander piped up from his spot on the deck, finally making a move to interact with Marco. He got up with his arms stretched above his head, his neck audibly cracking as he turned his neck in a circle. “I wanna stretch my legs, take striker out for a good spin.”

Marco began walking over to the east side of the Moby Dick, rotating his own shoulders in preparation for the flight that was about to take place. “It’ll just be a fishing vessel, yoi. It won’t be as exciting as you think.” He said in hopes of dissuading Ace from coming along. He wanted and could take the fishing vessel out with one strike, the wood and the metal would bend so easily. 

Ace coming along would mean he’d have to hold his urges. And Marco really wanted one thing to go his way at least once today.

“Maybe, maybe not.” The freckled alpha shook his head before looking back up with a glint in his eyes. “But think about it, what if they fished up something real good for lunch? I have to inspect every net!” Well, having a disappointed and hungry Ace on board is just as bad as a bridled Marco. And the crew had enough strong personalities to deal with as it was.

“Shouldn’t Thatch be the one to come with me then?” Marco haphazardly threw the idea out there.

“No thanks, Marco!” The fourth division commander immediately piped up from his unmoved spot by the inner circle of the deck. “I may be able to swim if you accidentally break the ship to pieces, but I can’t guarantee my own safety when you’re like this.” Thatch may not have intended it, but that statement was another jab at Marco’s weakening control over his emotions. A skill he’d mastered for over thirty years.

He felt a draft of wind pass over, and Marco took another breath to calm himself down again. “.. Alright, Ace.” He spoke in finality. “Take striker out then.”

…

     A loud bang violently pulls you all from slumber. Your breathing wavers in panic as another loud blast not only blares from the top floor but also dents the floor enough to leave a hole. An explosion.

Screaming voices erupts from the other cells as the ship rocks harshly from another round of explosions. Shouting comes from above, something reminiscent of barking orders and fearful retaliation. People were frantically moving up above while sounds of wood breaking and screaming echoed throughout. What was this? A raid? Deep in your gut a sprout of hope began to grow. If this was the navy then..!

A seed of hope takes root deep in your gut, fragile and desperate, but it’s more life than you've dared to feel in weeks.

You unwrap your arms off of Pau and you immediately took note of his face. Fear was etched into his facial features, the same emotion was causing his entire being to tremble against your own. Your eyes shoot up to the ceiling once more as gun shots fire consecutively in the fray upstairs. Fortunately, there were no additional rounds of cannon fire from the opposing force but this trafficking vessel was shooting its own rounds of cannon fire.

Everyone holds their breath for a second, simply listening to the carnage. Men shouting, guns blazing, cannons firing, bodies dropping.. and suddenly nothing.

Glances exchange between all of you, clearly uncertain of the situation to be. A loud thud from the deck above captures your attention once more.

“Those guys were screaming about precious cargo,” The voice of an unfamiliar man seeps through the holes created from the aftermath of the fight. Your eyes widen in suspense. “Should we inspect the bottom deck?” You almost screamed out a ‘please’ as if to answer their question. 

Instead of a response, the question was answered by a sudden breach of the deck floor again. A cannonball!? You thought, but it was quickly debunked when the roof above your heads suddenly began to convex upwards, in the motion suggesting that someone was pulling it. A loud crack comes as the deck boards snap free. Harsh winds begin to vacuum into the enclosed damp space, razzling not only your hair but also your companions who disliked the sudden moisture difference.

Your vision distorts as it adjusts in the darkness of the night, though it wasn’t long before some smaller people who looked like chess pieces held up light sources. Standing atop the deck were two men, their silhouettes clearly not belonging to any of the men who owned the vessel. One was shirtless despite the cold and wet weather, a bright orange hat sat atop his head while a gleam of red shimmered from his neck. The other was more striking in features simply because of the brilliant blue wings that were attached to where his arms were supposed to be.

They were not the navy.

You suck a breath in. Pirates, these were pirates. Even worse was that they were highly likely to be alphas, their presence alone was heavy and thick.

Something suddenly chokes you and you gag as your system reacts to it, making you keel over from the unanticipated scent. It was strong enough to cut through the thick blankets of your companions’ pheromones and even through the salty smell of the sea. It was tropical and acidic. Which, to your horror, smelt sweet and pleasant..

Against your better judgement, your eyes dart between the two men in an attempt to determine which of them it belongs to. Where your eyes fail, your instincts manage to tell you that there was something different about the one with wings. And he was glorious; bright brilliant blue flames that burned out into golden yellow. He was tall—no, large—and was carrying himself with an easy posture.

No one among the enslaved spoke a single word or made a single sound.

“Holy shit.” The man with the orange hat released an audible breath out. “Is this an omega trafficking scheme?” An audible inhale came from the same man, who grimaced from the amount of mixed scents that could probably only be described as wrong. “Oh fuck, right. This probably smells awful to you, huh? You could head back for now, Marco. We can pick through ‘em real quick.”

Pick through them? Your heart clenched painfully.

Maybe fate truly was look down on you. To be passed from cruel people to even crueler people who could only see merchandise with value that they could pick through, there was just no other way your situation could get any worse. You couldn’t stop the bitter shiver from crawling up your spine. Perhaps if you begged, perhaps if you offered something in return, maybe..!

You weren’t aware you were staring at the man that was called Marco, not until his glowing irises connected with yours. As if gravity increased instantaneously, something forces you to lower your head, burying itself onto Pau’s shoulder. The beat of your heart presses against your eardrums while your breathing falters from its consistent pace.

Apex alpha.

There was no doubt about it. Every sense and conscious thought of your body was screaming so: that this man was special, even more so than the other alpha next to him. His presence alone was doing things to your body, things that only began to happen after the trafficking scientists put you under an unnamed medication. You were going dizzy with sensations unfamiliar to you.

“No need.” The impassive tone of his voice didn’t mask the weight of his strength. Pau jolts under your hold from the mere sound of his voice. It would seem as though everyone else was affected by him too from the way the bodies around you trembled. You had no bravado in you to lift your head and meet his gaze again. The hope that he would simply ignore you and move on was shattered as he says, “I already see one I want.”

The blood in your veins run cold.

It could be anyone. You’re sure.

But then again, it’s too cruel for it to be anyone at all.

“Wait, seriously?” The shorter man barked out in surprise before letting out a laugh of disbelief bordering relief. “Great! Point ‘em out!”

You can’t look, your body refuses to move anymore.

You jolt when a pair of soles land on the hardwood floor right in front of the cage you were all crammed into. It must have been a coincidence, he’ll begin walking away you’re sure—

“Look at me, yoi.” Your muscles flinched at the command, and your body shook with effort to keep your head down even though every muscle in you was begging to obey. The command came from ‘Marco’, the more overwhelming one of the pair. His voice had a lazy drawl to it, ending in a vocal quip that was quite unique.

The bodies all around you moved in unison, no doubt following as they were told. The dull souring scents was sending your head spiraling, making it even harder to form coherent thoughts. The fear and the command were all becoming too much. Cold sweat began to drip from your forehead.

“I said..” A prickle made your neck jolt. The floorboards creak louder as someone took another step forward, the words brushing over your skin and causing your hair to stand tall. “Look. At.”

“Me.”

You did.

Your face lifted on its own accord and your gaze met his.

Brilliant blues that seemed to glow in the growing darkness of the day, the sun already meeting the horizon, allowing the night to swallow in. Again, you are faced with the fact that he was larger, a head taller than the other alpha next to him, his body rippled with muscles that probably didn’t experience any difficulty ripping the deck away from its nailed state. It was scary. Impressive. Out of anything and everything, however, you couldn’t look away from his face.

He was strikingly attractive, his eyes especially were drawing you in with an intensity that was disparate from the ease on his features. He probably had a few years above you given the slight wrinkles under his eyes. His posture was relaxed which was, again, not in tune with the current mood of the situation.

“That one, huh. Not bad.” The other man was freckled and rougish, another alpha with eyes full of energy and body just as impressive.

You swallowed hard. They weren’t like the men who used to drag you and the others around like cargo, they had a level of power that came easily. “This entire thing is covered head to toe in seastone. Hell, the chains they’re wearing is probably seatone too.” His eyes flicked down to the thick, blackened cuffs around your wrists. “Maybe you really should have brought Thatch along.”

The words he had spoken finally registered in your brain and you forced yourself to look away from the blonde man to the other, finding that his eyes were trained directly at you as well. You felt yourself jolt back slightly, disrupting your bound companions as your heart hammered harshly against the ribcage of your chest. Your head feels too heavy to keep up once more. You bit down on your trembling lower lip, trapping the trembling breaths from your lungs.

They.. do they know? Could they smell you? No, it was impossible. The medication that were given to you through shots were still going strong, clogging your scent glands.

Heat was prickling at your eyes as you pray that you were mistaken.

“Thatch won’t be able to do anything if we can’t find the keys first.” Marco surmised, still keeping his eyes on this particular ‘omega’ amongst the bundle of bodies basically huddled together. His gaze hasn’t left you, not even for a second since he’d found you amongst the crowd. The smell in the air was putrid, only serviced enough because of how dulled it had been, no doubt from synthetic suppresants that made sure it stayed that way. In fact, this dull smell was the reason why he didn’t simply blow the entire vessel to bits at first.

The first division commander had every intention of doing just that until he realized that the smell that was coming from the fishing vessel was unnatural, and that there was no possibility that any dead fish had the ability to mimic what a pseudo omega smelled like, no matter how rotten it would be.

‘Lo and behold, they uncovered an entire underground black market. Though, the more Marco had thought it over, the stranger the thought process was. A fishing vessel this far out into the ocean with no island in sight to make port with was already suspicious, and even in the event of a pirate plunder, they didn’t have many faculties of defense aside from a few standard cannons, guns, and swords. There was no chance for them to win against any pirate ship in the new world.

Not to mention, being able to obtain this many pseudo fruits for trafficking was astounding, the amount of pseudo omegas this vessel had was outrageous, no matter how bad their conditions were. So this had to be sponsored by a bigger organization, or rather, is a part of a bigger organization and they happen to have stumbled upon their new carg—

—A soft scent broke through the muddle of the rest, enticing his instincts.

Well, the circumstances don’t really matter. Only the results mattered. And the results were even better than he could have anticipated. In a fake dingy fishing ship that could have only been full of pseudo omegas, he found a scent that was agreeable . Maybe even sweet, salivating, enticing. Better than anything he’s smelled in months.

So, even if you ended up being a pseudo which was the highly likely scenario, it would be amiss of him to leave you behind when you’re already the most refreshing thing he’s laid his eyes upon in months.

With a bit of effort, he finally released his gaze on you, cricking his neck to look down at Ace who was looking around with clear curiosity on his face. “I’ll go grab Thatch and have Namur push this vessel into the Moby’s course. There are a lot of valuable things here.” Ace nodded along without much thought, occupied with examining the state the people who have been given pseudo fruits were in. “You’re staying here to look for that key.”

“WHA!?” Ace couldn’t release another word out before Marco was already back in the air. “HALF OF THE GUYS ARE ALREADY IN THE OCEAN!”

…

“By the seas, look at all this sea stone.” The barrel-chested man commented with a whistl,e eyes sweeping over the scattered mess of wood and bodily matter. The things he was commenting on were large and sizable, a wonder considering how seastone is only really readily available to the navy. “We really could probably use some of these back in the Moby, real useful.”

“I could have chosen to bring anyone else along, yoi.” Marco’s came out dry and unimpressed as he took  a few steps behind him. “Prove that I made the right choice.”

Thatch whipped his head back over his shoulder, staring at the right-hand man with an incredulous look. “Sheesh, is this some kind of punishment? Relax Marco, no one’s going anywhere.”

“It’s a threat, if you wanted clarification.”

When Marco had first provided a brief explanation of the situation to Whitebeard, their captain had immediately made the decision to leave the ‘cargo’ alone save for the one Marco had wanted. Too many pseudos on board would be a disaster, and Whitebeard had no intention of keeping any on board because of their biologically disastrous and unexpected nature.

However, it wasn’t like they were going to be left completely marooned. It was a small mercy in the face of the sea, the Whitebeard pirates were kind enough to spare a bit of supplies that could last them until they’d inevitably drift to an island. It wasn’t much, but it was better if not the best than what most other pirates would have offered or done.

“Exchange the goods with the seastone cages. We’ll need ‘em,” were the direct orders given to the crew. The crew made quick work of the sails to keep them from speeding past the vessel, Namur and a couple fishmen under his division immediately submerged underwater to move the vessel while Curiel and Blenheim’s divisions were asked to make space below the deck for some new special cells in the possibility of some special prisoners.

Marco picked Thatch up after a bit of complaints from the latter. Though, there wasn’t much complaining could do when Marco simply grabbed him by his shoulders and flew him right over the ocean. 

They landed with a loud thud, Marco lowering him before folding his wings back into nothingness again. Thatch cracked his shoulders. rolling his arms around to loosen the soreness after being held by his upper body for a time.

“And besides! It won’t be my fault if Ace wouldn’t be able to fi—”

“Found it!” Just in time, Ace walked over to the pair while holding up ring with three or so keys, swinging it tauntingly in the air. “Luckily it’s not made of seastone, and I found it in the captain’s quarters under a drawer. Classic.” The youngeer man snickered as Thatch opened his palm wordlessly, expression deadpan as Ace dropped the ring into it with flourish. Then he walked away, mentioning wanting to rummage through a few of their belongings for a little longer.

“.. It’s not guaranteed to be the cuff keys, alright?” Thatch mumbled in defeat as his fingers wrap around the small item. He peeks under his lashes, eyeing the first mate who was patiently watching. “So, don’t get mad, Marco.”

Marco doesn’t do anything much other than a noncommittal hum. Thatch turns back to the bundle of bodies ahead of him, grimacing at the unsavory sight of prisoners who were huddled like little fawns. They only seem to huddle together into an even tighter ball as he approached and stood in front of the door. This wasn’t the first time Thatch had seen a pseudo omega, not by a long shot. There was a concerning amount of normal people who are capable of getting their hands on one of the damned fruits and eating it themselves.

Omegas were desired enough that people wanted to be them, no matter the price. It didn’t matter if it was tagged with berri or their own body.

Much to his relief, one of the keys in the ring opened the cage. Given how there was only a limited amount of keys, this single one probably opened every single one of them. Fossa could probably make a copy of these keys no problem.

The reaction was instantaneous as soon as the door creaked open, one of them had begun to silently sob under their breath. Multiple terrified eyes were staring up at him, and Thatch could only sigh out the last nerves he had in order to exude as calm of a scent as possible.

“Hey.” Thatch finally addressed the bundle of people, slowly crouching down and low to the floor to make himself look less imposing and frightening, softly addressing them as if they were wild animals. The many eyes followed his move but they don’t respond to his greeting, which is understandable.

“None of you have to say anything, just know that we’re here for one of you,” He carefully began, hooking an arm over his bent leg to settle calmly. The dreary atmosphere doesn’t dampen the easy smile growing on Thatch’s face. “So, if you could all cooperate with us a little longer, we’ll make this trip quick and be out of your hair.”

“Could you all take a seat in a line in front of me?” The way Thatch said those words may have been kind, kinder than anyone has spoken to any of you in forever, but you all understood that it was still a command ; a command you could not deny no matter what from a pirate who was far stronger than any of your previous captors. Everyone around you also understood that.

So it didn’t come as a surprise when you all slowly and hesitantly begin to untangle from your knot of limbs and chains, obediently sitting down in an arrangement where the chain didn’t tangle over the other. Though, you were still huddled together, pressed side-to-side to seek the physical comfort of one another with hands still entangled. No one was looking ahead or above. No one spoke a word either.

Thatch looked over his shoulder and to Marco who was intently watching everything, asking the question in his head without a word uttered. Marco’s blue eyes flit over to a particular one, briefly, and Thatch immediately understood.

“You there.” You flinched when Thatch turned back around, and when you slowly raised your head to confirm, you were horrified to find that the alpha’s gaze directly pointed at you .

Tears were lining your lashes, probably from how inevitable everything felt now.

As if not noticing your increasing distress, or rather choosing not to, Thatch inched towards you while raising the ring of keys in his hands. He grinned, “You’ll be coming with us.” Final. No question or option asked. The next orders to raise your hands at the junction of your elbow so he could unlock the cuffs came through one ear and out the other, but your body manages to follow the instruction out of fear. The chains rattled noisily when your weak arms lifted them up to level with your head.

The weight of the cuffs dropped as soon as the key was inserted and turned clockwise. And yet

The longer Thatch stared at you, the more he understood Marco’s very sudden and very direct interest. Where there should have been a distressing visage was overshadowed by another emotion. You look so sweet, in a way unexplainable. It wouldn’t be too much of a long shot to even say that you had this atmosphere of real cuteness around you. Under all that grime and mistreatment, he had no doubt that you were a real eye candy either. And the way that you were looking at him: doe-eyed and afraid.

You looked like a little rabbit. So cute.

“Come here, sweetheart.” The large man beckoned you over, no doubt earning himself a scalding look from Marco given how hot the back of his head felt. Nonetheless, he couldn’t take his eyes off you as you begin to slowly move to stand. Your legs were visibly shaking. From the weight, the fear, the hunger, or everything? His gaze was on you like a beam of heat, and suddenly, everything in you seemed to tremble.

The large man extended his hands over to you, allowing them to hang in the air as possible supports in the case that you couldn’t handle it. He was hovering over you, waiting for you to walk over on your own terms. Your gait was unsteady as you finally took a step forward.

Just as expected, the movement sent a rush of blood up and into your brain, depriving your body of its energy, and causing you to stumble on your feet and trip forward.

“Woah there!”

Your arms flounder, and despite the pain from your injuries, attempted to find stability on his body. “I-I’m sorry!” Your puny voice was barely audible in your gasp. You hurriedly move to push yourself from him. But your mind was reeling and your senses are all over the place, so much so that your legs were buckling under your own weight. The hands that were hovering just over your arms were quick to latch back on, holding you steady.

Everything stills for a few seconds and nothing moves as you took life-saving breaths. It helped that every breath was filled with a scent reminiscent of a warm kitchen, alike the kitchen you grew up with. Second by second, your body finally catches up, and you’re feeling a little better. While not by much, it was enough to keep you standing.

“U-Uhm..” Your weak voice comes out ragged and small, unused to speaking. Your eyes trail from your hands and up to the man’s forearms that looked to be larger and healthier than your arms and legs. You had to say something, and the only appropriate response was to thank any act of kindness, no matter how small.

“Than-”

You jolt. The eyes that were looking down at you were no longer friendly, and instead, were looking at you with an intensity that sent tremors all over your body. His eyes were looking directly at you, maybe even through you, as if he could see something that wasn’t there before. The gentle hands that caught you hardened, although not gripping you, you could tell he was having a hard time restraining himself.

 That look.. he couldn’t possibly..

“Give her to me.” Thatch jolted as well as if he caught himself. The barrel-chested man was a little bigger than the other men, and yet, Marco was far more terrifying in comparison. Especially now.

“Marco, she’s—” Thatch began as his head whipped up to look at the other man.

“Even more reason to.” Marco concluded without letting Thatch finish. You could see Thatch force himself to swallow; his pride or his saliva, you’re not sure, but it’s the only thing he does before carefully guiding you with an assertive tug. Keeping your eyes pointed to the ground, to your bare feet, you walked with deliberate purpose. You stepped over the chain that had bound you, toward Thatch’s shoes, and then back over the entrance of the cage,

Until sandaled feet appeared in your vision.

Your fingers tremble in Thatch’s hand. A breath of air passed before you see a large hand lift up towards your face. You involuntarily flinch away right before he could touch you. Your lip shake as your hands fly out from Thatch’s hands and toward the front of your body, clutching the filthy cloth of your poor dress like it would lessen the impact of whatever would come next.

Only, it didn’t.

Because what came next wasn’t pain.

Marco’s fingers are soft when they pressed against your cheek, surprising you. The unexpected tenderness had your heart beating in confusion. They continue to be gentle as his palm engulfs the entirety of your face’s side.

You’ve already looked at his face before and you’ve already formed your opinions about him. And yet, now that you were much closer, calling him handsome might have dpne him a disservice. He was captivating, demanding your attention with his blue eyes that reminded you of the sky. He was at least a head and a half taller, you’re pretty sure he was already bending his back a little to accommodate you.

—That sweet scent. It really was from him. You could smell it from his wrist. It was pleasant.

You stare at one another for a moment as if taking each other in. 

“I am Marco. First division commander to the Whitebeard pirates, yoi,” his voice comes out low and is accompanied by a drawl. You could only blink in response.

“And as of now, you will be boarding the Moby Dick under me. Understand?” His index fingers gently moved to caress the tear that slipped from your eyes. When did you begin crying?

He could feel you bob your head into a nod, but he immediately caught your jaw to keep you from doing so. “Use your words.”

Your eyes shot open. “Y-Yes.” The words were barely audible, your tone wobbling as if a sob was right behind it.

“Yes, Marco.” He corrected sternly.

More tears slipped free, pooling hot on your cheeks and soaking into the hand still cupping you. The sudden sharpness from him was confounding, an abrupt switch from the gentleness he was offering. It left you dazed, heart racing, and the fear you’d managed to suppress earlier now surged back with vengeance.  “Yes, M-Marco..!”

Thatch was quick to interfere from the background, huffing out in protest. “C’mon, Marco, she’s already being so sweet! Don’t be so hard on her!”

“I want her to be as obedient as possible. It’ll be easier.” It wasn’t even said with malice, but with a resigned edge that was probably impatience. 

But you didn’t know that. Instead, his words felt like another blade against your already wounded heart.

You broke the eye contact by averting your eyes downward, heart wrenching painfully as you admonish yourself for falling for the tenderness so easily. Stupid, stupid . Your lips pressed thin as you allowed a deep frown to overtake your expression, your eyebrows pinching together. But you don’t allow the sobs to escape you in fear of dampening Marco’s mood.

“I-I will, Marco..” You cried and whispered lowly, not realizing that the previous statement he made wasn’t directed towards you. Marco silently held you like that, searching for the eyes that looked up at him in a bright way, but you do not look back up. You might not have had the ability to when your eyes only continued to flood with tears.

“Look at what you did.” Thatch tsked loudly from the background to purposefully voice his displeasure, but Marco didn’t respond, he could only stare at you after you uttered words with heartbreak and fear clearly caught in your throat. Your scent, although masked by a synthetic, was in the precipice of sweetness, only for it to plummet back into nothing.

Then, Thach sighed, dangling the ring of keys he had used in his hands. “We have to get going, Jozu and Namur’s divisions are coming to recover the cages soon.”

Your face pointed down to the floor as soon as he retracted his hand, wringing your hands into your clothes. Now that he had a better look on your hands, he could see the bruises that were formed around your wrists from the chains and cuffs that held you, the bruise that you were attempting to hide in your skirt.

“Hold your hands out.” Hesitance, then obedience, although they’re trembling harshly when you lift them palms-up. He placed a single hand under your arms, the length of his palm from pinky to thumb was large enough to encapsulate both your wrists. The skin was tender and was beginning to develop into a bruise that went the entirety around your arm like bracelets. Marco’s expression darkened. 

Thankfully you weren’t looking up at him to see it, it would have probably worsened your mood even more. His fingers tightened in their hold around you to secure you in place. You do not struggle, but you do jolt back when the familiar blue flames that you have been admiring before suddenly burst to life where his skin touched you. He watched your face intently, watched as the initial fear from his flames spread throughout your face before melting back into trepidation when his flames didn’t harm you like you had expected.

The lovely blue reflected from your irises and your dwindling tears before extinguishing to a small flickering flame. He pulled away slowly as if any sudden movements would scare you any further. You were still looking at your hands, now looking at it more with wide eyes.

The bruises and the pain was gone.

“.. Good girl.” Marco whispered, placing the palm he used to hold your face on your head. The praise translated well, your tears finally subsided.

He then took a step back, disentangling his fingers from your hair that he longed to brush through, and allowed his arms to be swept with his flames, turning his arms back into his brilliant wings.

Ah, and there it was again, the look of astonishment in your eyes. Although more hesitant to appear this time.

“Wha-I know I said we should probably leave but I wanna introduce myself properly too!”