{☆} characters arlecchino
{☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, transfem arlecchino
{☆} warnings 18+ content, breeding kink, degradation, stomach bulge, dacryphilia, restraints
"Arle, hah..please. I can't– I can't wait any longer."
The pleading, almost pouty, words had her letting out a deep, husky chuckle as she fiddled with the buckle of her belt, admiring your body as she stepped up to the bed. Her knee sank into the mattress as she knelt down, pressing a placating kiss to your brow and gesturing for you to turn over.
"Come on, dove. Be a good girl, or I'll treat you like the whore you are." Arlecchino clicked her tongue, firmly grabbing your hands and tightening her belt around your wrists, giving the leather a firm tug to test its strength– and to make sure it wasn't too tight. "I'm in a good mood. Don't spoil it by being a brat, little dove."
The pout it drew from you made her grin, canines flashing beneath her lips as she settled in behind you, cupping your ass in her calloused hands with an appreciative grumble. Your panties were already sticking to your cunt, the fabric soaked. She couldn't help but drag one of her digits across the fabric, teasing your folds beneath it.
"Lucky I adore that pretty mouth of yours or I'd have cut out your tongue," She gruffly spoke, her tone neither in jest or too serious– perhaps she would, maybe she wouldn't. She liked to keep you on your toes. "Hm. Maybe I'll use your throat after– shut you up properly. You look so pretty gagging on my cock, you know?"
Arlecchino slid her fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to see your slick cunt, her fingers pulling the folds apart. Fuck, she could feel her cock throbbing against her boxers at the sight– she'd never get tired of it, just like she'd never get tired of using you like a toy.
"But in the meantime.." She finally pulled down her own boxers, her aching cock slipping free and slapping against your thigh– she slid right between your thighs, forcing you to squeeze them together around her. "Fuck, that's it." She growled, pumping her hips a few times before she was satisfied, lining up her cock with your entrance.
She had the decency, at least, to sink in slowly at first..let you adjust to her size for a brief moment before she snapped her hips forward and sank fully into your cunt with a sharp hiss.
Arlecchino typically enjoyed teasing you first, making you practically beg just for her to give you her cock at all, but she had other plans tonight– she wasn't going to waste time playing around this time. Her hand slipped down to your stomach pressed against the mattress, a low chuckle building in her chest at the distinct bulge her cock left. It was a wonder she fit at all– but she'd make it fit even if she hadn't.
"Be a good girl now and don't complain." She grumbled, leaning down to press you down into the mattress with her body, nipping at your ear before she pulled her hips back, hissing at the way you clenched around her in response. She took a moment to sit there, letting you ruminate and squirm at the lack of movement– only to grab a fistful of hair and start pounding you into the mattress before you can even think to whine about her lack of movement.
How quickly, how easily, you turn into a blubbering mess as she uses you like a toy for her own enjoyment. Not that you won't enjoy what she has in plan for you– just maybe not as much as she does. The mental image of filling you with her cum..it drives her thrusts harder, faster. She wants to fuck you stupid with her cock, fill you to the breaking point until her cum pools on the sheets, unable to be fully plugged up. Just the idea of watching her cum dripping down your thighs makes her control slip just the slightest bit.
She's already big enough to bulge your stomach with every thrust, but she wonders if she can push it further.
She certainly wants to, and she intends to.
The fat tears rolling down your cheeks only got her more excited, her hands gripping your hips so tight she can already imagine the bruises in the shape of her fingers against your skin.
"That's it, dove, give in," Arlecchino hissed, a low growl rumbling in her chest as she continued to pound into them relentlessly, her thighs already stinging from the sheer force of it. "Fucking take it, you whore."
Her muscles flexed in faint restraint, the shifting of your arms against her as you nearly screamed at the intense rush of pleasure making her sink her teeth into your shoulder in warning– a futile effort, really, as your body twitched when you came so hard she briefly considered if she had to stop..but you were still moaning even through the tears rolling down your cheeks, rocking back into her thrusts weakly, unable to keep up.
She wasn't too far behind, either. Her teeth dug deeper into your skin, muffling the growl as she plunged into your soaking wet cunt, bucking into you in much shorter thrusts until she finally felt her cum spilling into you. It was almost enough to send her over the edge again– fuck, you were practically sucking her in with how tight you were, squeezing around her cock.
Her head slumped against your shoulder as she pulled her teeth from your skin, taking a moment of respite to catch her breath and let the sting and ache settle in deep– she welcomed it, if anything. But she wasn't done.
She was going to fuck you till you were full– fill you up until she couldn't fit another drop.
For now..she pulled out, admiring the way her cum dribbled out of you. She didn't mind all that much..she was going to replace it tenfold, anyway.
She couldn't wait to plug you up and see you squirm during the meeting tomorrow, full of her cum and unable to find relief– maybe she'd make it a toy, see how long you last before someone realizes what's going on. She was going to enjoy it thoroughly.
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Thinking….. thinking of yandere noritoshi
me too....
Noritoshi is suspicious of you at the worst of times. The same faint crease on his brow always appears when he's trying to hide being bothered by something.
This time? Because you've been focusing on your phone rather than him for a little bit too long...... He trusts you, of course he does! its just, he doesn't trust others. What if you end up talking with somebody for too long and they try whisking you away?
Obviously it's most likely nothing and you're enjoying your time doing who knows what on the phone that he's not allowed to check because you told him he couldn't no matter how many times he asked. Noritoshi still stares at your phone intensely when its sitting somewhere, itching to take a quick peek.. it'll be harmless, you don't even have to know!
Yet, his mind wanders to the possibility of getting caught. He'd rather spear arrows through his palm than be gazed at with disapproval by you. Its only natural to have privacy, he tells himself. So, begrudgingly, Noritoshi obeys and watches you on the stupid little phone.
The phone that contains a lot of mindless entertainment and important files. The same phone that holds a lot of personal information you keep to yourself. The same damn phone he's been itching to get his hands on ever since you began smiling at the device.
Why aren't you showing him what's so funny? Oh, right, because he could care less. All he cares about is that your attention is off of him and onto something else that could easily lead you to interact with someone else. It becomes too much and he acts emotionally, tilting the phone down and confronting you. It's not an accusation, just a question. Tell him he's wrong, he's almost begging you to tell him he's wrong. He just wants your attention again, so forgive him if he acts irrational. He'll make up for it, he promises.
Though, if you're alright with Noritoshi looking through your phone, his looming shadow over your shoulder will be a common occurrence every time you turn on your device. He might as well stop using his own with how much he likes holding onto yours. It's just to help you carry your things, of course. He's so gentlemanly isn't he? Go on, praise him!
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"You are the rock on which I stand,
Steady me, please take my hand,
Hold me now until the break of day."
— Charles Wiles.
Pirates don't help people, he used to spit. I was not born into this world to help anyone.
Yet, as the fabric of your shirt softly shifts up your skin making you shiver, Law finds himself unable to stop the hand raising his blanket, keeping you warm.
You're not just people, though, he poorly excuses himself. You're more than just anyone to him.
Which is why he pretends to not notice how clingy you get when the sun's barely peeking through the windows, warm and bright enough to make out the shape of your face, features he awkwardly traces with the tip of his fingers, finding himself needing the intimacy, this closeness with you.
He cherishes these slight pieces of yourself you only show him. Asleep, vulnerable and soft to the touch, trusting this callous man to keep your dreams safe, Law has to bite his tongue to hold himself from repeating the same three little words to you like a fool.
He chastises himself for even thinking about it.
And then you start to wake up, with bloated cheeks and messy hair, your eyes still fighting sleep, and God, it's useless, Law thinks. It's an urge too hard to resist– but he refuses to say it out loud. He's content with protecting you as it is, tightening his blanket around you and trying to fix your hair.
Will it be too much for you, he wonders, impatiently waiting for your eyes to fully open, if he physically gives you his heart to keep, to protect?
"Law?"
You shove your face further down his neck, eyes scrunching in a tender way that makes Law's hands clench and unclench with the need to touch.
He hums low on his chest in response, bringing your body closer to his. When you don't continue, eyes closing again, he grumbles out, "Morning."
He feels your smile on his neck, one sleepy kiss pressed against it. "Good morning, love."
It hurts.
Up to this day, Law's guilt clenches with a vice-like grip around his chest, reminding him how he doesn't deserve this warmth, this forgiveness you give him.
It's a hole his heart still aches to fill– this disgusting need for affection, a need he can't allow himself to ask for out loud, but one he desperately looks for anyways.
When you're out and about on a new island, linking pinkies and pressing your side against his, teasing him for his pink cheeks and burning glare.
Aflot in the Polar Bear, dragging his tired self up deck to get some much needed sun in his system, his palms tingling where your hands held him.
On nights he's blessed with your pleasure, where he's insatiable until he makes you his– unsatisfied until every part of you is marked with his name, his traces.
So when you pull him closer to you now, he doesn't say a word. He doesn't tease you like he would any other day, doesn't call you out on how your body seems to always gravitate towards his– today he's not sure if his good intentions would come clear enough, and what if one last remark is what pushes you to finally leave him for good?
Law instinctively holds you closer, letting your body soothe his restless mind. You're here. You're staying. You love him.
You hug him even tighter in your sleep, entwining your legs together, impossibly closer to eachother. He's usually not positive for anything, but you're for sure a gift from his loved ones up above, because only those who cared for him enough could guide you to him.
He has one final thought before dozing off again, as the tiny fluttering of your eyelashes on his skin and the slight rise from the waves of the New World lull him to sleep, carrying so much fondness he doesn't even put up a fight when his eyes start to drop.
His heart is staying right where it belongs.
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