Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sanji isn't an insecure man. He's comfortable with his sexuality.

He is, okay?

Sanji is 100% straight. He loves the soft curves of a woman's silhouette; Loves the way their breasts billow and jiggle when they walk; Loves the soft feeling of their perfect, sweet-smelling skin, and absolutely loves their long, gorgeous legs. Legs that he could run the tip of his tongue up, until they part deliciously, and what's between those legs, is something he loves the most.

Sanji is 100% straight.

Except when he lets Zoro fuck him.

Sanji couldn't describe how it all started, this back-and-forth thing that's developed between him and the swordsman. He remembers the before. Snide comments that ignited into brutal dick-measuring contests. Kicks to the swordsman's stupid, annoying face, and dodging the long end of 3 blades coming at him with impossible speed.

He remembers when it was just fire between them; A clashing of unyielding personalities and nothing more. Or maybe it's always been more, and Sanji was just really good at lying to himself.

Sanji couldn't pinpoint the moment when animosity was replaced with concern, annoyance with admiration. When death is constantly around the corner, and life is no longer guaranteed, Sanji supposes it's only natural for childish emotions to be replaced with louder needs.

It happened slowly, he can say for sure. Slowly at first, and then all at once.

Looking back, Sanji can see that this was always the natural extension of things. That anger, and rivalry, and dominance only have so many outlets. And when you factor in the bloodthirsty need for conquest and to win, all wrapped up in short fuses and the gnashing of teeth, it all seems so inevitable.

Perhaps that's why it felt so natural when Zoro had forced Sanji up against the kitchen wall, slamming him down with the ferocity of a bull crushing a person to dust with its body weight. When the swordsman's body surrounded him, it was all too familiar. A play they had seen many times before, only the ending was different this time: Zoro's lips meeting his with a cut-off grunt, his conniving mouth parting obscenely to slip his slick tongue between Sanji's lips, the swordsman swallowing down the sound of shock the cook had tried to make. Sanji swears his mind had tried to stop it, if only for a solid millisecond of confusion and anger cresting into something hot in his veins.

But his body answered the call: It was a blur of spite, and fury and hunger, crescendoing into a white-hot pleasure; The likes of which the two of them had never known before.

When it was over, Sanji tried to put his clothes back on and spit his venom at Zoro. Tried to feign that he was disgusted, and regretful, and that it definitely wasn't going to happen again. But his poker face never did quite work on Zoro, did it? The stupid, goddamn swordsman could see through Sanji like he was wet paper. The mosshead had grinned at him with the most cocksure attitude, not meeting Sanji's anger with the normal back-and-forth. Zoro knew that things could never go back to the way they were (and he was unabashedly thrilled at that fact). And although it took more convincing on the cook's part, the next time the mosshead had shamelessly tried to taste him again, deep down Sanji knew it too.

Sanji could yell, and deny, and fight all he wanted; Zoro can read his body better than anyone. And when he pressed his mouth to Sanji's for the second time, the cook eventually gave way, letting himself melt into the mass of muscle, and passion, and fire that threatened to swallow him whole. And when Zoro sheathed his cock inside of him for the second time, Sanji couldn't pretend anymore.

Well, he could pretend. Sanji could pretend that this thing between them was purely a physical outlet for all of their testosterone and animosity. He could pretend that it was something occasional, something casual. Something the both of them could easily and happily live without; That it was about convenience, if anything. And inevitably, when they both found better prospects, it would be dropped unquestionably, words not even need be exchanged.

But of course the universe will call his bluff every time Sanji thinks he can lie to himself.

This time it was when the Straw hats had journeyed to a red-light district of sorts, in a country that Sanji didn't even remember the name of. A year ago, when they needed reconnaissance for some stupid reason or another. Sanji had agreed to disguise himself as a male courtesan; To tempt some big-shot bad guy they were trying to get the drop on. But before the Straw hats had even gotten to the actual target of their journey, Sanji had caught the eye of a 40-something year old man, who was clearly looking for some company.

 The man (who actually wasn't the worst looking) had stopped the cook in his tracks. He had grabbed his arm in a too-friendly way, making eyes at Sanji who was dolled up to the nine's; Soft blush on his cheekbones, gorgeous kimono flowing in the wind. The man had ran a gentle hand down his arm, asking Sanji how much for the pleasure of his company. Before the cook could even react to his advances, Zoro had driven the tip of his sword deeply into the man's shoulder. The swordsman's face was pulled back in a snarl, a deafening growl on his lips. It was as clear a warning sign as any, to stay away from what's his.

Later that same night, Zoro speared Sanji open with a different sword. His screams of anguish had echoed throughout the wooden halls of the ship, the same warning spelled out in them.

Sanji is 100% straight.

Except when he lets Zoro fuck him, and Zoro is relentless.

Tonight, Sanji is laid out for the bigger man, stark naked and ass up against the pale blue sheets of the cook's bed. When Zoro came to his room earlier with a throbbing erection and a punishing grip, Sanji let him in. Even while taking his 10-inch cock deep inside, begging and panting and crying; The stupid swordsman will stoke the fire in him, taunting him to no end.

"Oh yeah, you sure are straight, cook. You sure don't like being fucked around like a bitch in heat."

One of Zoro's massive hands slaps down hard on Sanji's bare ass cheek, and his body betrays him with a pathetic answering whimper, flinching with humiliation. Zoro has Sanji's hands held crossed behind his back. They act as a nice steadying surface for the swordsman as he shoves his cock inside of the cook's tight, pink hole: Dominating him like an animal.

"Unnnnhhh... S-Shut up! I told you stupid Marimo, I... I'm fucking straight... This is just a lay... doesn't fucking mean anything... Besides, if I didn't do this, you'd be fucking insatiable. It's easier to just give you what you want."

Zoro lets out a throaty laugh. His thrusts slow down, but the strength behind them doesn't relent. He fucks him nice and slow and hard, savoring that Sanji will keep himself in this pliant position until he’s done with him.

"You sure know how to lie to yourself, Sanji... Would it be that bad? To admit to yourself what a little, fucking bitch you are. That you love squirming around on the cocks of bigger, stronger men. You sure have me fooled... you play the role perfectly."

Sanji growls at the insolent words. He thrashes slightly, fighting halfheartedly as Zoro applies the smallest amount of pressure to keep him in his place. An amused chuckle slips out of the mosshead's mouth.

"Fuck you. You're the bitch, meathead. You're obsessed with fucking me. I can barely keep your filthy hands and mouth off of me. There's nothing you want more in this world than to shove your prick down my throat or up my ass, you're fucking shameless about it."

A gravelly, rumbling warning noise leaves Zoro's lips, making every hair on Sanji's naked body stand on end. The cook cries out in fear as the dick that's been splitting him open is dragged out of his abused hole, and lube leaks out of him in the process. Two rough hands flip him over violently and stark, gray eyes, colder than the steel of his razor-sharp blades, are locked onto Sanji. Zoro's expression is pulled into the snarl that makes Sanji's neglected cock leak precum all over his stomach.

Without a single word spoken, the swordsman bends the cook in half. He hooks the blonde’s long legs up onto his thick, corded shoulders so that he can penetrate Sanji as deeply as humanly possible. Zoro's glare bores into the cook's sea-blue eyes as his thick, blunt cockhead breaches his tight asshole. Sanji's mouth falls open in horror, twitching as uselessly as his untouched dick.

"When I'm deep inside of you like this, keep your fucking mouth shut. Unless I tell you to speak. I own this pussy when I fuck you, do you understand?"

The deep growl of the swordsman’s voice sends goosebumps all over Sanji's body. "F-Fuck." The cook can't deny how much blood pumped into his begging erection at that statement. He would never say it out loud, never give Zoro the fucking satisfaction, but some primal part of Sanji loves being used like this.

"Y-Yes..."

Zoro pumps his hips hard so that each syllable is punctuated. He speaks slowly, "Yes, what?"

Sanji moans, tightening around that big prick inside of him, his walls feeling it's shape out. He swallows hard, knowing what Zoro is making him do, and resigns himself to the humiliation.

"Yes, sir."

Zoro lets out a haughty, mean chuckle. "Tell me how much you like it, cook... How much you love having another man inside of you. Using you. Rearranging your fucking guts."

Zoro fucks him slower, deeper, harder. His hand coming down to cup the protrusion of his cock in Sanji's smooth abdomen. He loves seeing how much the cook's body has to accommodate around him. How noticeable and undeniable the penetration is.

The thick head of the swordsman’s massive cock is punching the spot behind Sanji's ballsack that's making his eyes roll back in his head. He feels a string of drool dribble down the corner of his mouth, and he doesn't care. With Zoro fucking him stupid all he can do is try to form words that will please the swordsman. It takes all the effort in the world, but Sanji focuses his tear-blurred eyes on the severe face in front of him.

"Ahhhhhhmmmm... I... I love it... unnnnhhhhhh… I love it... Z-Zoro... please..."

"Yeah, you fucking do. Who owns this pussy?"

"Y-You do... unnnhhhhh"

Zoro slows his thrusts, giving Sanji's pulsing prostate a break from the brutal pace. The cook's ass is sucking him in so tightly, he’ll surely burst if Zoro keeps going. The swordsman presses closer, licking at the seam of the kiss-bitten, pink lips in front of him. Sanji groans and opens up wide for him. He really is so good and pretty for Zoro... When the mosshead slips his hot tongue in, the blonde sucks it down eagerly, making Zoro's cock pulse. It's laughable how goddamn needy the cook is for him, especially while trying to keep up the pretense that he's "straight". When Zoro pulls back, a string of saliva connects the two men and Sanji lets out a whimper seeing the evidence of their encounter. The swordsman licks his lips chasing the lingering taste of the cook. He gets up close to Sanji's ear to whisper inside.

"Are you sure you're straight love cook? I mean... you can't seem to get enough of me... of my mouth... my tongue. My fingers... my cock… If I wanted to, I could probably make you get on your knees right now… in front of the entire crew. I could make you beg for it, like a fucking dog... and you would do it, wouldn't you, Sanji?"

Sanji's eyes are watery red, his pupils beautifully blown. It takes a moment for his fucked-out brain to register the words, but when he does, he nods unquestionably.

"Yes, sir."

Another mean laugh pours out of Zoro. Sanji is the most beautiful to him when he's like this, when the pretenses drop, and he allows himself to be honest. "Heh... what a good boy... It's a damn tempting idea... To make sure the crew knows who holds your fucking leash." The moss-haired man starts building up the power behind his thrusts again, needing to fuck him raw in his own bed, needing Sanji to come fully encapsulated by him: His smell, his body, his taste, his voice.

"I don't give a fuck if you want to get your dick wet now and again, as long as you're clean about it... Fuck any pussy that you want, make em' cream on that useless fucking cock for all I care." Zoro penetrates him to the hilt as he looks deep into Sanji's eyes, which have started to spill tears from the punishing rhythm. "But don't you ever forget that when you get on this ship, this is where you fucking belong. Don't you ever forget that my dick balls-deep inside your asshole is your fucking home."

The wails of the Frenchman fill his own bedroom as he comes wrapped around Zoro’s cock. His whole-body shudders as Sanji spills his seed onto his stomach, painting himself in white as his cock spurts over and over. Zoro can feel him clench around his dick as the cook ejaculates, and he generously stays still while Sanji comes down from the high of his intense orgasm. The blonde looks so goddam pretty underneath him; Teary eyed and panting like a dog, legs shaking as they threaten to give. When Sanji’s body gets stiller, and eyes bluer than the ocean look up at Zoro, that’s when the swordsman’s patience wears off.

He fucks him like an animal, not bothering to build back up to it, or give the cook’s body time to adjust to the brutal pace. Zoro wants what belongs to him, and he has no qualms about taking it. The swordsman chuckles as he remembers one of the first times they fucked.

He had Sanji pinned to the floor of the kitchen, with one of his massive hands clamped around his mouth so that the others wouldn’t hear the pathetic, whiny noises of the cook taking it. Zoro had pulled his fat cock out and was ready to plunge it into the depths of his rival. But before he could, Sanji had shrugged the big hand off of his mouth and asked Zoro if he would use protection. The swordsman had looked at him incredulously and asked why the fuck he would do that.

“So I don’t have to walk around all day with your load spilling out of me, dumbass!” The blonde had scream-whispered angrily. Zoro remembers how hot his blood had felt in his veins at the insistence, at the very idea. He remembers the stupid look of shock on the cook’s face when he shoved himself inside unceremoniously, digging his nails into the soft skin of Sanji’s hips as he claimed him on the ground.

“You better listen up good, shitty cook. This belongs to me. I fucking own this. It’s my goddamn property and I’ll come inside of it as many fucking times as I want to. You’re gonna take it like a good, little bitch, because there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing is going to get between my cock and your fucking asshole, understand?”

It had felt so fucking good when the cook moaned in response. Zoro had to quickly clamp his hand back around Sanji’s mouth because his noises were so shamelessly loud and wanton at the swordsman’s claim. And the cook came like a fucking geyser on the floor underneath him, learning that he loved the ruthless way Zoro used him. And learning to love the way Zoro’s spend feels leaking out of him as he cooks the crew their meals.

The memories make the mosshead snap his hips faster. He feels his balls tightening as he gets closer to coming inside of Sanji. He’s fucking him so goddamn hard that the bed frame is slamming noisily against the floor, and the cook is frantic underneath him as he hits that sensitive spot inside of him over and over. He needs to fucking come inside, needs to claim what fucking belongs to him in Sanji’s room, in his bed. Needs the cook to know that Zoro will never fucking loosen the grip he has on him, and no one else can fucking have this. He’d ruin Sanji before he’d let another person have a taste of this.

Tears are streaming down the blonde’s reddened cheeks and he’s whining and digging his nails so hard into Zoro’s traps that the swordsman feels blood trickling down. Sanji’s trying to say something, but each violent thrust causes him to stutter out pathetically. Finally, he is able to get the syllable out.

“P… Please.”

Zoro groans as he buries his face into the crook of Sanji’s sweaty neck. His teeth find purchase immediately on the soft skin, and he bites down sharply as he plunges in as far as he can. Thick, hot ropes of come pulse out of Zoro’s engorged cock and fill Sanji up in waves. With every load, Zoro continues to thrust forward, needing to get his seed as far up the cook as possible. Some primal part of the swordsman wants badly to impregnate the cook, and logically he knows it’s not possible, but he doesn’t care.

 After several long moments of mindless bliss, his hips finally stutter, and Zoro’s body goes limp. His hands, however, stay clamped onto Sanji, and the two fall asleep still attached.

The next day, when the swordsman slips into the kitchen and asks a bruised, sore Sanji if he still thinks he’s 100% straight, he has to dodge a full bottle of wine thrown at his dumb, grinning face.

Chapter Text

"Idiots! That's dirty fucking water!" Sanji howls, throwing a balled-up dish towel in Usopp and Luffy’s direction. The two dummies are bent over a soiled bucket of water, dipping his nice dishware into it. The boys make noises of apology as Sanji's face turns bright red.

"Get out." The cook says through gritted teeth at his crewmates, who were earnestly trying to help, though clearly not equipped enough 'upstairs' to do so.

"But Sanji-

-OUT!" Sanji cuts off his captain and grabs the men by the back of their shirts, hauling them up, then kicking them out the kitchen door. For good measure, he locks it behind him. The cook's heart is racing from the overwhelming annoyance, and the fact that his workload has now been doubled. Those damn idiots are half the reason he smokes so much.

The sound of a throat clearing behind him reminds Sanji that he isn't alone. He turns to look back at Luffy's older brother Ace, who is sitting laxly at the table, spread out casually like a panther on its killing grounds. He's shirtless as usual, adorning a pair of cut off black shorts and chunky boots. Sanji can't help but feel jealous at the sight of his giant, exposed pectorals and rippling muscles. Even Ace’s goddamn back looks lethal. The ladies must love him.

"Sorry about that, Ace. Your brother is a decent captain, but sometimes I question if he's smart enough to tie his own damn shoes."

The Whitebeard pirate lets out a boisterous laugh and a glint of light refracts off of his pearly, sharp canines. Ace's teeth are so straight and white for a pirate. Damn, every part of him is attractive, Sanji thinks. It's really not fair that some men are perfect. And the cook can't even be too annoyed with him, because he's so damn nice, and helpful, and cool. Luffy is amazing, but Ace is something else. It's hard to believe that they're really related.

"He's not smart enough, Sanji. That's why he wears sandals."

Sanji lets out an easy laugh, allowing the older pirate to help take the edge off. Ace's company feels good, his presence alone curbs the annoyance easily. The cook wouldn't mind if he decided to stay with them for a while; It's nice having someone half competent around.

"Here, let me help you with those. Since it was my idiot brother that messed them up." The black-haired man goes to stand but Sanji speaks up.

"No, no, please. You're our guest, let me handle this. You saved our ass multiple times, and I’m gonna make you the best meal you've ever had to thank you for it. Sit back and enjoy yourself."

Ace sits back down, a languid grin stretching across his face. Even his attitude is so easily confident, so attractive. Sanji has to scold himself in his head for dwelling so much on it, but even he can appreciate an attractive man. He's not gay or anything, just jealous.

"I must be a lucky man: I hear your cooking is to die for... Can I ask what's on the menu?"

Sanji grins at him over his shoulder. "Sorry Ace, it's a surprise. But I can promise it'll be the best thing you've ever tasted."

The bigger pirate has his head rested in his giant hand. He gives the Frenchman a slow smirk, and for some reason the way he's looking into Sanji's eyes makes the cook shiver.

"Mmmm. I'm sure it will be."

Sanji finds himself swallowing hard. He needs a cigarette. His idiot crewmates got him all out of whack and this'll help him come back down. He takes his lighter out of his pocket along with a cig and tries to light it. He clicks it many times in rapid succession, but it's not working; Perhaps it ran out of fluid, again.

"Shit", Sanji says under his breath. He clicks his tongue in frustration and turns to get another lighter from his room.

The blonde’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest when his eyes meet the giant form of Ace behind him, towering over him. Sanji hadn't heard him get up.

"Here."

Ace holds up 2 fingers, producing a small, flickering flame for the cook. Sanji can't help the way his eyes widen in awe. He cups his hand around the warmth and holds the end of the cigarette to the flame until it's lit, then takes a long drag.

"Whoa... thanks Ace"

"No problem."

The black-haired man licks his lips, letting a warm smile spread across his face. He doesn't say anything else but continues staring deep into Sanji's eyes. The cook can't help but linger on Ace's features, illuminated intimately by the warm wash of light in the room. Freckles stretch over his nose and cheekbones like twinkling stars dappled across the night sky. In this lighting, Ace's eyes look dark, predatory even. Like the last thing you'd see glinting in the forest at night, before being devoured.

Sanji gives him a little grin back, then turns back toward the sink to wash the dishes. He tries to shake off the feeling that's begun to stir in his stomach. It's something uneasy, that's making him suck his cigarette dry too fast.

"Dinner should be ready in a couple of hours. If you want some peace and quiet, you're more that welcome to hang out with me. I locked the door so the dumbasses couldn't bother us."

"I think I'll stay right here, Sanji... just let me know if my presence starts to annoy."

Sanji chuckles lightly, "I enjoy the company."

Ace is quiet for a long beat. Sanji's focus starts to go back to the sink full of dirty dishes in front of him, until he remembers that he hasn't heard the older male go back to the table. Which means he's still standing behind him.

"I'm glad", Ace answers eventually. "I couldn't tell at first... whether or not you did." His voice comes out lightly but he's speaking the words strangely, as if there's something he's not saying under the surface. A read-between-the-lines sort of cadence.

"Oh... I'm sorry. I guess I'm always a bit suspicious of other pirates we run into. I hope I didn't come across rude..."

"No. Not at all... It can just be hard to read people sometimes... but I'm glad we crossed paths..." He hears Ace's big boots hit the floor as he comes closer. Sanji can tell he's right behind him now, and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. Sanji takes a long drag of the cigarette and lets it out, unsure of why he feels so nervous at having Ace's undivided attention on him.

"I have been wondering something though... I was hoping you'd indulge me..." The older pirate’s deep voice comes out in a hushed tone. Sanji swallows hard.

"Yeah... what's that, Ace?"

There's a beat of hair-raising silence. The cook finds himself holding his breath as he waits for the Whitebeard pirate to speak.

...

"Do you want me to fuck you, Sanji?"

The cook's mouth falls open and with it his cigarette dives into the wet sink. Sanji blinks in slow motion, a dumb expression fixed on his face. The sounds of running water and dishes clanking together were dampening the older man’s voice, clearly more than Sanji had realized.

He must have misheard Ace: There's no possible way that the words Sanji thought he heard were spoken just now by Luffy’s older brother. He brings a shaky hand to the faucet, turning it off, then dries his wet hands on the dish towel in front of him. The blonde turns partially around, looking over his shoulder at the older male.

"H-huh?"

The small smile on Ace’s face deepens into something cocksure. Two big, hot hands wrap themselves around Sanji’s narrow waist, making him gasp. Warm breath is caressing the sensitive skin on the back of his neck and the cook feels all of his hair stand on end. Sanji doesn’t think he can move.

"I said... do you want me to fuck you, Sanji?" Ace's gravelly, deep voice pours into the cook's ear, enunciating the very words Sanji cannot begin to fathom. It feels like he’s slipped into an insane dream; He can’t get anything to make sense, not even as those giant hands begin slowly crawling down his figure and soft fingertips begin to furl underneath the cook's shirt. Sanji stutters out the most pathetic noise when those digits meet the smooth skin of his abdomen, and Ace chuckles, deep and rumbly.

"I take that as a yes", The Whitebeard pirate murmurs against soft skin, and the words go straight to Sanji’s groin in a sharp wave. Warm lips start to drag feather light across the area and the cook wishes he could form words, but he doesn't feel like he’s in control anymore. The only thing going through his mind right now is that… he doesn't like men... He doesn't... He never has... right?

But something deep and primal inside of Sanji’s body is fighting against those thoughts that are trying to make his muscles move, to pull away, to say no. The older pirate’s rough fingers feel so strangely tender as they roam and explore Sanji’s previously hidden parts, and the whispers of kisses that Ace is planting along his neck make the blonde stutter. Everything the cook thought he knew about the ‘legendary Fire-Fist Ace’ has been thrown into question.

Sanji recalls all of the not-so-subtle times that Nami and Vivi were throwing themselves at the good-looking, older man. But thinking back, Ace didn't even react to the girls’ flirting. The blonde remembers how they had stared at the Whitebeard pirate; How the girls’ half-lidded eyes had hungrily drank in his muscular body. Ace didn't seem to revel in the attention at all or even notice. In fact, in every instance that Sanji remembers, the older male seemed to be preoccupied by him. 

The cook’s recollection of how kind and doting Ace has been, is fresh in his mind. The older pirate had extended an arm out to Sanji whenever there was even slightly unsteady terrain; Ace had offered the blonde his water bottle to drink from, multiple times; The black-haired man asked Sanji often if he needed to stop, or eat, or drink water, or rest. It all seemed so considerate at the time. One of the nights that the crew slept in the desert, Ace had given Sanji his blanket to use, insisting that he wanted him to stay warm (and the cook had felt very flustered using it because it was so steeped in Ace's scent. It was the only thing Sanji could think about while trying to fall asleep). The Frenchman thought all of the kindness, and friendliness, and warm looks extended to everyone in their group, but he’s ashamed to admit, he didn’t even notice if that was really the case. He’s been too swept up in enjoying the attention.

Ace's palm flattens against Sanji's abs, bringing his awareness swiftly back. He pulls the cook backwards, until the older pirate's body is enveloping his. The blonde swallows hard as he feels in real time, just how much bigger Ace is than him. His lethal body overshadows the Frenchman, and there’s no doubt that the Whitebeard pirate’s strength well exceeds Sanji’s.

 Something long, hard, and insistent is forcibly rubbed against the cleft of Sanji's ass and that's when his voice finally rings out.

"I... I...", is the only sound that the younger man is able to make as time slows. The cook is shaking.

Ace stops his ministrations. His fingers trail out of the cook’s woven shirt. With his hands off of him, Sanji feels like he can breathe again.

"Sanji?" The Whitebeard pirate asks, leaning over the blonde’s shoulder. His large hand comes around, grasping the cook’s chin gently and tilting him so that he's looking into fiery, amber eyes. Ace is so fucking close to him... The older man’s pupils have doubled, brown being eclipsed by black. Sanji can feel Ace’s warm breath dance over his lips. It takes everything inside of the blonde, but he makes himself answer the older pirate.

"I... I've never... d-done this before...", is what comes out of Sanji’s mouth, surprising even him. Not 'I'm not gay', or 'I'm not interested in men', or 'Get your fucking hands off of me before I kick your head off'. The cook has never felt so unarmed in a situation before, he’s never been so confused in his own mind and body. He pushes against Ace's grip, needing to look away. The Whitebeard pirate removes his hand. Shame is starting to fill Sanji’s body, but Ace's calm, smooth voice breaks through it.

"Hey... talk to me, Sanji... I thought you wanted this... just tell me if you don't, and I'll fuck off... okay?" Ace’s voice is so calm, so gentle. It's grounding to Sanji. It makes all of his swarming thoughts slow down in their tracks. The blonde slowly turns to look at the older man.

"I... I don't want you to fuck off, Ace... I... I'm just... I've never..." His voice trails off.

"It's okay if you haven't before... but do you want to?"

The blonde’s heart is beating so fast in his chest. He can't bring himself to look Ace in the eyes.

"I'm not... gay."

Sanji utters the words so shakily that even he's starting not to believe it anymore. Finally, the cook’s eyes crawl back up to the taller man and he has a calm expression.

"This doesn't have to mean whatever you're afraid of, Sanji..."  Ace licks his lips slowly, like he's contemplating his next words carefully. "When I was younger, I used to care a lot about that stuff too... but as I grew up, and traveled, and had experiences... I realized that nothing matters, Sanji... except the things we want... and nothing you do with someone in the bedroom will change who you are."

The Frenchman lets out a little huff of air he didn’t realize he was holding. He considers Ace’s words, mulling them over in his head for a few long beats, until he starts to feel a bit steadier. Despite everything, Sanji trusts Ace. He has since the two of them met. And even now, despite the confusing things that have transpired, the cook somehow still feels safe with him. Sanji swallows hard.

"Does... does that mean... you've... had e-experiences like this?"

"Mmmhmm. Many times." The Whitebeard pirate nods slowly, there’s not a hint of shame, embarrassment, or regret on his face.

In a million years, Sanji would have never guessed that fire-fist Ace, a member of one of the deadliest pirate groups in existence, had fooled around with other guys. He churns the idea over in his head, trying to figure out how to feel. The cook looks back up to the black-haired man’s face. He lets himself really take a good look at him. Sanji’s stomach drops as he thinks about how handsome Ace is. His eyes are warm, burning pools of amber. His freckles add a boyish charm to his otherwise very angular, nice features. His soft mouth looks too inviting… Sanji chews on his lower lip. He can admit to himself that he’s at least curious.

"... What was it like... y-your first time?"

"With a man?"

Sanji nods, embarrassed, a deep blush spreading over his cheeks.

"There was this guy in the crew... he became one of my closest friends over the years. He was annoying, a fuckin’ loudmouth... Strong as fuck though. We clashed heads for a while before I realized he wasn't half-bad, just kind of an asshole... One night we were getting shitfaced after a tough raid. It was... such a good night... We laughed so fuckin' hard, got balls-deep in some bottles... and... and I just remember at some point in the night, Kai gave me this... look. Just stopped mid-sentence and stared into my soul... he licked his lips and got up off the floor... then he dropped to his knees in front of me." The blonde tenses, feeling a spark of something warm shoot up his abdomen.

"He looked me dead in the eyes as he pulled my cock out of my pants and licked a fat stripe up it... I got so fucking hard, Sanji... He put me in his mouth and sucked me off right there, in my room... and even in my drunk brain I remember fighting with myself... because it felt so good... and seeing one of the strongest men I ever knew, on his knees for me... choking down my cock... it was one of the hottest things I ever experienced."

"... W… What did you do...?"

"I didn't know what to do... So many thoughts were going through my head: Saying that I shouldn't be enjoying it, I shouldn't be letting a guy touch me... Just all these fuckin' worries."

"Did you stop him?"

Ace chuckles nice and deep. "It felt so good, Sanji... Even though I was worried about what it all meant, I was so fucking turned on... At some point, Kai fumbled with his own pants, and all the thoughts shut up as he started stroking himself with my cock in his mouth... I never came so fuckin’ hard in my life... and after I was spent, I laid him down on my bed and returned the favor."

Sanji blinks hard, contemplating. It does sound fucking hot, he allows himself to admit. For the splittest of seconds, his brain flashes to moss-green hair knelt down in front of him and he chokes on his own spit. Sanji buries that thought deep, deep down.

"Was it weird afterwards?... How do you and Kai act around each other now?"

Ace's face drops almost imperceptibly, he looks down to the floor and a bad feeling swirls around in Sanji’s gut.

"We never talked about it after it happened... But every time we got drunk, it wouldn't take long before his hands were on me, or my hands were on him... I'm just grateful I didn't listen to my thoughts that night... I'm grateful more than anything that I didn't push him away."

His face looks so serious, it makes the cook worry.

"Why?"

"... Because a year later we were under attack at sea. It was a bloody fuckin' battle, almost lost the whole ship that night... I was injured from a previous skirmish we had in the grand line, and the attackers started gangin’ up on me... I lit the fucking sails on fire just trying to make it out alive."

"What happened?"

"I caught a blade, right between my ribs." Ace lifts his arm, showing Sanji the long, jagged white scar. "Pierced right through my spleen, tore it in half. I made peace with the gods, because I knew I was going to fuckin' die... But Kai stepped between me and them. Fucker practically threw me across the ship, which didn't help the bleeding... But I remember looking up at him from so many yards away... it was raining that night... I was screaming, but I didn't even realize it... The captain of the attackers drove his sword up Kai's sternum and ripped it down; Spilling his guts on the deck... Kai looked for me as he died, and the last thing I saw while he was alive, was him smiling at me, like a fucking idiot... They threw his body overboard."

Sanji doesn't say anything. Fuck, what could he even say to that...

"He's the reason I'm alive today."

The cook blinks hard. For some weird, stupid, goddamn reason, he thinks about Zoro. About how empty he would feel if he was in Ace's shoes, and Zoro was killed like that. His heart feels so heavy, so bizarre. And Ace's gratitude… for letting himself have those moments with his crewmate... because in this profession, life isn't guaranteed... Sanji breathes deeply, quieting all the thoughts in his head.

"Did you… love him?" The words spill out of his mouth, though afterwards, he doesn't know why they came to him in the first place. The older pirate lets a deep breath out. His face is stormy, eyebrows knit tightly together.

Ace looks Sanji over for a long beat. He licks his lips slowly. Eventually his stoic face blossoms into something warmer, something intimate. Ace runs his hand gently down Sanji's shoulder, biting his lip slightly.

"I... I didn't mean to make things feel so fuckin' heavy, Sanji... I'm sorry..."

Ace flashes a small smile at him, and there's only a hint of sadness in his eyes. His face drops into something more serious, more hungry, as he looks the blonde up and down.

"My point was that we get to decide who we are... and what choices we make... And sometimes here and now is all we get." Ace's gentle fingers push a stray strand of Sanji's hair out of his face, ghosting lightly over his skin. The cook swallows hard. For some reason it occurs to him, looking up into the older pirate’s eyes, just how tall Ace is…

"So tell me, Sanji... what it is that you want right now... hmm?... What decision are you gonna make?"

Fuck...

He looks down at Ace's lips and subconsciously wets his own. The truth is that Sanji doesn't know exactly what he wants in this moment... but what he does know, is that he desperately wants to find out.

"I... I've never... done this before...Ace... but I... I think I… want to..."

Ace licks his lips, his fingers stroking the cook’s soft cheek. He comes in so close that Sanji can taste his warm breath. The older pirate lets out a haughty chuckle.

"I think I could tell before you could, Sanji... you've been looking at me so... hungrily... so urgently... I promise I'll go slow... we can stop at any point if you change your mind... I know you've never been with a man before." Ace takes Sanji's hand slowly, spreading and pressing it gently against his clothed hard-on, accentuation his statement. The cook watches himself grope the Whitebeard pirate and Sanji’s heartbeat starts thrumming below his stomach. Then big hands are going straight to his waist, pulling the smaller male in; But before Ace's warm mouth can grace his, Sanji feels the need to clarify.

"I... I've actually never... been with a-anyone before, Ace..."

The older pirate halts. The cook sees his pupils expand ever-so-slightly.

"Fuck, Sanji... I really am a lucky man... Getting to have you before anyone else..." Ace chuckles deep and slow and it goes straight to Sanji's throbbing groin. "You did say you were going to serve me the best thing I've ever tasted..."

It happens too quickly for the blonde to prepare; Warm, impossibly soft lips engulf the cook’s mouth, moving and lapping into him. Big, strong, hands cup Sanji’s face as his eyes innately slip closed. As the cook learns -against everything he ever thought he knew about himself- just how good the older man tastes. How sensual it feels to move his apprehensive mouth against one that knows what the fuck it’s doing. It’s apparent that Ace has had lots of experience; Apparent in the way his body is guiding the blonde in; Apparent in the way his mouth explores just enough of Sanji’s, to leave him craving more. Apparent in how slow he goes, allowing the blonde time to just feel.

Ace’s mouth sets the pace, and the pace is slow, hot… a little bit sloppy. The cook can’t help that his hands steady themselves on the strong chest in front of him. He doesn’t know why it all feels so good, so natural. From the way that the Whitebeard pirate tastes, to the way his cologne mixes with his natural scent, to the warmth of his body. It all feels so right in Sanji’s gut.

It takes the cook by surprise when the good tasting lips are taken away from him, and for a moment he finds himself greedily chasing the contact. Ace is grinning at him, knowingly; He keeps his mouth very close as he murmurs, “Is it okay, Sanji?”

“Y-Yeah… more than okay, Ace…”

The bigger, stronger male chuckles, he rubs his nose back-and-forth gently against the Frenchman’s and the throbbing feeling in Sanji’s core only gets stronger and tighter.

“Yeah? You like the way I taste?”

The cook groans, “Yes.”

It's Sanji whose asking for more with his body language; Panting harshly; Big, blown out, fuck-me eyes; Shamelessly chasing the taste of Ace that lingers on his lips, needing more like he needs goddamn air. His body has always been more sensitive than others (which is perhaps why he's always been so needy), but right now there’s an ache deep inside of him, a black fucking hole begging to be filled. Luckily the older man doesn’t make him wait any longer.

The second time around, Ace goes for the kill. His slick, insistent tongue presses into Sanji’s mouth, exploring every inch. The black-haired male is swallowing down all of the whiny noises the cook has started involuntarily making. Just kissing Ace had felt insanely good; This shit, however, is the most addictive thing the blonde has ever experienced. His own tongue curls out to tangle and press and fight for some sort of dominance, though Sanji doesn’t know if that’s something he even cares about anymore. He just needs more. More of whatever Ace will fucking give him.

Again, the bigger male’s mouth is slipping away from him, and the blonde’s body doesn’t like it, but at least the big hands are stroking his face. The Whitebeard pirate bites his reddened lip. “You taste so fuckin’ good too… and fuck… you’re so pretty, Sanji.”

Fuck... No one's ever called the cook that before… and it should be stupid… offensive even... So why is his cock aching in his pants? Why does Sanji feel like he needs this, when hours ago he would have never looked at another man this way?

"I've thought so since I first saw you... You're so fucking sexy..." Big, warm hands spread around the Frenchman’s tight waist until he's fully encapsulated, and Sanji moans softly. "And your waist is so goddamn small... So fuckin' perfect." Ace’s voice has a filthy slur to it, a purr.

Sanji has always been insecure about his size. He's never been as massive and muscular as Zoro, no matter how much he's worked out. He is muscular but much more lithe, much skinnier. It's always bothered him. Ace's praise, however, goes straight to Sanji’s low stomach, which is pooling with heat. It makes him feel safe and warm, and really good. The cook is learning so much about himself, in such a short amount of time. It feels like his brain is downloading file after embarrassing file and he doesn’t have the capacity to process it all. Sanji never knew that he could crave feeling protected… That he would crave a bigger, stronger man praising him… guiding him… taking him.

A cut off cry rings out of the blonde as he’s lifted by his hips, and his ass is planted onto the countertop. At this height, Ace has the perfect access to dip between Sanji’s legs and start mouthing at his neck. The cook tips his head back so eagerly that it conks against the cabinet, and he yelps in pain. Immediately the older pirate stops.

“Are you okay?”, Ace asks so affectionately. It’s really fucking embarrassing, so the blonde just bites his lip and nods back. He can’t dwell on it too much though, because the black-haired man’s massive hands are feeling around gently where Sanji hit his head, probably checking for a welt. When he’s satisfied that the cook isn’t bleeding, Ace holds the blonde’s chin in place and gives Sanji an intimate, sweet fucking kiss, like he’s a child who got hurt. The gesture shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.

The Whitebeard pirate goes back to where he was: Moving his mouth slowly along the ridge of the cook’s neck, suckling the skin lightly. Sanji wraps his arms around Ace's muscular back as the older pirate starts pulling his shirt lower, so he can suck deeper marks into the blonde’s chest. Where no one will see. Large hands move under the article of clothing, and then he's taking it off. Before Sanji’s shirt is removed entirely though, the older pirate seems to remember something.

“Is this okay, Sanji?”

The blonde opens his eyes slowly, not realizing he had closed them. It takes a second to understand what Ace is asking, but then he’s nodding hard and lifting his arms to assist.

When the cook’s shirt is off, Ace just stares in wonder at Sanji's uncovered chest and stomach. He runs his hands gently down Sanji's ribs, trailing over the curves of tight muscle. The older male bends down to place an open-mouth kiss at his collarbone, and the squelch it makes against Sanji’s skin is obscene. Ace trails wet kisses downwards, taking his sweet time, until he hits the soft, wispy blonde hair of the cook’s naval. Ace’s hot mouth hovered over the center of Sanji's growing arousal makes his legs twitch in anticipation. Whatever imagined qualms the cook had about anything earlier in the day have vanished; Are gone; Are actually crazy seeming, in hindsight.

How could Sanji have ever questioned wanting this? This feels so fucking good. Ace is so insanely, goddamn hot.

Big hands go to Sanji's thighs, cutting through his thoughts. They grip and pull Sanji closer, opening him up for the older male, and Ace wraps the blonde’s legs around his waist. The cook gasps. It's not that the whitebeard pirate isn't being gentle, it's that Sanji never realized he could get so turned on from being man-handled.

He's like a puppet in Ace's grasp; He can be moved and positioned to the older pirate’s liking. And there's this undercurrent of delicious threat; That Sanji couldn't fight Ace, even if he wanted to. That Ace could take whatever he wants from him, and Sanji couldn't stop him. That thought shouldn't turn him on, he's not a goddamn damsel in distress after all. But it does, fuck, it does.

The warm, wet mouth goes back to his throat, teeth starting to scrape against the sensitive skin and Sanji whines. This time though, Ace presses his body closer. As he laves and suckles at the cook’s neck, he starts grinding his hips into Sanji. It's like a setting has been dialed up to max: Everything feels so overwhelmingly intense. Ace is rutting his clothed cock against Sanji’s, and it feels like he's being fucked. He wishes he was being fucked. Right here, on top of the counter.

The smaller male wishes he could give more than he's taking, but all he can do is wrap his arms tight around Ace's deadly traps and moan, and whine, and let out little cut off pleads that sound a lot like begging. Sanji hears himself saying "Please... please... please", and he doesn't even know what he's asking for. Ace's hand goes to grip Sanji's chin and then those hungry lips are back on his, laying claim to him, licking into him. The Whitebeard’s body language is growing greedier, his other hand goes to Sanji's waist, pulling him more and more into his cock as he thrusts up. Bending him in half. The noises Ace makes are more of a growl, more of a snarl; Something guttural and possessive.

Shuffling happens, and Sanji almost doesn't realize his ass has left the counter because Ace is still kissing him so hard. He's in the air for a second, before he's laid gently down onto a soft surface. When the older pirate pulls back Sanji sees that he's been put on the couch. The black-haired man just looks at him for a long moment, lying there, and Sanji follows his eyes to his own naked chest. It's flushed red in places; There's spots around his collarbone and pecs where Ace has sucked hickeys into him. Sanji's finger gently traces a dark one above his nipple and Ace's eyes get darker. The Whitebeard pirate rubs his cock slowly through his shorts as he watches Sanji and the cook’s eyes go wide. His hand stalls.

"Fuck, don't stop, Sanji... I wanna watch you touch yourself."

Sanji gulps at the request. At having someone's eyes locked on him while he does something so... intimate. He feels exposed. Even though he's only shirtless, it feels like everything is bared for Ace to see. It feels a little bit humiliating, a little bit thrilling…

The cook swallows hard and brings his hands to his chest, settling lightly on his skin. He stares Ace in the eyes as he begins tracing down his pectorals. He knows where he's sensitive, so the cook runs his thumbs over the hardening buds of his nipples in tandem, earning himself a thrumming feeling spanning from the base of his cock, all the way behind his ball sack. He has to suck in a deep breath, feeling his cheeks grow hotter by the second.

The corner of Ace's mouth lifts into a grin. He blinks hard, still rubbing himself off to the sight. Sanji has to spread and shift his hips a little to make room for his growing cock. He closes his eyes a second, just letting the pleasure of his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin of his pebbling nipples crescendo in his stomach. He bites on his lip as he pinches the buds in tandem, rolling them tightly in his fingers. His back arches slightly off of the couch as arousal shoots up his stomach.

He's so lost in his ministrations that the blonde jumps when he feels large hands join his. The older man grabs Sanji's hands and lifts them to his mouth, placing a tender kiss on each palm one by one, before putting them off to the cook's sides. Ace leans down over his reddening points and his hot tongue begins laving over Sanji's pert nipples. His breath is so warm, and the wet muscle playing with one of his most tender areas feels like heaven. Sanji grinds his hips subtly against his underwear, feeling wetness down there. Ace’s mouth comes closer, taking his nipple in fully and sucking it down roughly. The Whitebeard pirate's warm hand cups Sanji's pectoral, and obscene, hungry, little groans spill out of him as Ace nurses Sanji's teat. The cook cries out from the stimulation; He can feel his heartbeat pulsing in his cock, and although it's never happened before, Sanji thinks he might come untouched.

"A-Ace..." The cook whimpers, unable to finish the sentence but hoping he can glean Sanji's message from the sheer desperation in his voice. It seems like Ace does, because he pulls his hot, incredible mouth away and instantly the cook misses the feeling of being fed on.

"You're so fucking sexy... and you seem so close Sanji-kun... C’mon, pretty... I wanna see how fuckin’ hard you are for me..."

His hands go to Sanji's trousers twitching with anticipation, fingers waiting for confirmation at his waistband. It takes the cook a moment to figure out why Ace has stopped, but then he's nodding at the older male enthusiastically. Ace undoes his fly and lets out a breathy, "Lift your hips for me, gorgeous." And Sanji's body is doing what he says without even thinking about it. The black-haired man tugs down his pants and then stalls. His pupils somehow expand even bigger, eyes blinking hard like he's out of it. Sanji looks down and the sight makes him bite back a groan.

The blonde’s light blue briefs are tented. His cock is straining hard against the material; So much so, that the waistband is pulling away from his skin, exposing the trail of hair that runs from his stomach to his pubes. There's a growing wet spot on the bulge, where the head of his dick is pulsing and leaking. Sanji looks at his own arousal with his mouth hanging open. He never knew that a man could make him feel this much.

Ace bends down between the cook’s splayed legs and plants kisses on the baby soft skin of his inner thigh, and Sanji sighs. As the older pirate inches closer to his throbbing erection, Sanji feels a small jolt of worry, perhaps just because once this line is crossed, he can never go back. However, as Ace nuzzles his nose against the bulge, any vestiges of doubt or worry wash away completely.

Nothing has ever felt better than this. Sanji wants Ace to take off his underwear; He wants the older male to show him pleasure like he's never seen before. God, maybe he even wants Ace to fuck him.

The older pirate’s hot tongue snakes out of his mouth and then he’s fucking licking up Sanji’s clothed cock and the blonde is sure that he melts into the couch. He would be surprised if his body hasn’t completely fused with the material.

"Can I take this off?" Ace asks, bringing his hands down to the last piece of fabric between them. Sanji can't really speak, so he tilts his head against his shoulder for support and moans out an, "Uh huh."

The black-haired man carefully slides his underwear off, uncovering the blonde fully for him. Sanji's prick gently unfurls from the clothing, laying hard against his stomach. It's long, thin, and flushed a beautiful pink color, from his balls all the way up to his shiny, wet tip.

"Fuck."

Movement takes over Sanji’s attention, and the Whitebeard pirate unzips his own shorts. He looks into Sanji's eyes as he pulls them down slightly, exposing his maroon-colored underwear. Ace's hand disappears into the fabric and then he's pulling his long, hard, thick fucking cock out, and gives it a tender stroke for the cook.

Sanji's mouth feels dry at the sight. He knew Ace was large from how he felt when the two were rutting against each other, but still, it feels like a shock looking at him. Even in his large hands, his cock looks fucking big. Ace's black, pubic hair is trimmed neatly. His dick is a flushed tan color from the base and gets even rosier towards the glistening tip. It looks heavy, weighty in his fucking hand. The older male gives himself some slow strokes and Sanji can't tear his eyes away. Watching Ace pleasure himself is something that Sanji never knew he'd be dying to see.

"Fuck, Sanji... You're even pretty down here..." His deep voice moans as he jerks his massive prick. Sanji can't just watch; He needs to join. To feel. The blonde tugs his cock with his fingertips lightly, just enjoying the buzzing feeling of his heated erection. He's already nice and wet for Ace, so one of Sanji's hands goes to the base gently pulling back his foreskin and his pretty, pink, dripping tip peeks out. The cook rubs his thumb against his slit, sliding his precome generously around the head. He bites back a deep groan. Like he's jealous at the pleasure Sanji's giving himself, Ace drops his own cock, letting the deadly appendage hang out of his underwear. He climbs onto the couch over Sanji.

Ace’s hand meets the warm skin and Sanji flinches slightly at the pleasure that shoots up his groin. The older pirate bends down and Ace lifts his cock up; Then, starting at the seam of his balls, he licks slowly up Sanji’s sack, then up the base of his cock, then all the way up his shaft to the leaking head, where he swirls his wet tongue and laps up the cook’s dribbling sperm. It takes everything in Sanji not to finish all over Ace's face.

"Mmmm... I wanna fuck you so bad, Sanji..." The whine of the Whitebeard pirate’s voice makes the cook’s dick twitch against his stomach. Ace laves his tongue over Sanji's full balls, groaning into the sensitive skin. "I don't think you're gonna last though... But that’s okay, Sanji-kun... I'm still gonna make you feel good." His eyes meet Sanji's again, but this time there's a devilish quality to them. "I want you to ask though... real nicely." Ace’s hand wraps around the base of his cock, dragging his fingers up very softly in a slow rub. It's not nearly enough.

"Can you do that for me, Sanji-kun?"

"Unnnnnhhh... A-Ace..."

The older male’s other hand grasps Sanji's balls, gently massaging them. The cook’s toes curl so hard that he nearly gets a cramp.

"Yeah?"

"Please... p-please..."

Ace licks his lips in anticipation. His voice gets deeper, more domineering.

"Tell me what you want, Sanji."

"I ...I want you... to f-fuck me." Ace's eyes widen and his hand stops.

"I... I’m sorry, Sanji-kun… I don't think you'll last that long... that gorgeous cock is already leaking for me... One tug will have you spurting all over this couch..." The blonde lets out the most whiny whimper at Ace’s words.

"I don't care."

"Huh?"

"You told me to tell you what I want, Ace... I want you to fuck me... If this is all we have, then I want you inside of me..."

The Whitebeard swallows hard. After a few moments of deliberation, his eyes settle back on the blonde. Ace chuckles, deep and rumbly.

"Fuck, Sanji... you're full of surprises, you know that?" The older man brings his mouth back to the cook’s neck, mouthing at it nice and slow, relishing in the noise Sanji makes for him. "If that's what you want, then I'll give it to you... Open your legs for me." 

Sanji does as he's told, and Ace grabs his hips, pulling him forward; Making him spread himself open for the older pirate. The cook gulps but his cock twitches expectantly. No one’s ever laid eyes on this part of him before.

"You might cum while I stretch you out... you think you'll be able to keep going, baby?" The older pirate’s voice is light, teasing. That word is a new addition to the things that Ace has called him. It goes straight to Sanji's dick.

"Y-Yes."

Ace’s pointer finger trails down to the cook’s spread hole. He gently goes between his cheeks, just letting Sanji get used to the feeling of someone touching him down there. He presses lightly against the tight ring, and the blonde’s whole-body jerks. A man is about to fuck him and although that thought is absolutely crazy, Sanji has never been more turned on. Why the fuck does that turn him on so much?

“Have you ever opened yourself up before?”

“Y…Yes… I mean… I… I’ve… dabbled…”

Ace lets a deep, warm, vibrating moan at the admission; He brings his hand up to his mouth and slips two fingers in, getting them wet. The black-haired man brings the digits back down to Sanji’s entrance and those amber eyes pour back into his.

“That’s so fucking hot, Sanji-kun…” The older male says, before one of those slick fingers presses in and the cook cries out startled. For a second the stretch burns, but then Sanji remembers he needs to relax his body, so he tries his best to do so. The cook looks up to the wood ceiling of the room as the Whitebeard pirate slowly works his finger in, and Sanji feels so equally horny and ashamed that he’s being fingered. Ace’s digits are thick, so it takes a little bit of getting used to, but after a few moments, the intrusion starts to make his dick pulse again. As Sanji realizes that someone is inside of him, stretching him open to fuck him. The blonde wants so badly to jerk himself off to the dirty feeling, but if he touches his cock he’s definitely going to come. It’s torturous, but it also adds to the delicious humiliation of it all; That Sanji has to lay underneath the older pirate, who has two fingers up his ass, and he can’t even touch himself. He just has to lie still, like a good boy.

“Do you like it, Sanji?... Hmmmm?... Tell me that my fingers feel good inside of you.”

“Unnhhhhhh… Y… Your fingers… feel g-good… inside…”

The blonde is able to still himself for, honestly, longer than he thought possible, but once the older pirate has three digits curled inside his tight hole, scissoring and prying his walls open, is when Sanji decides that a little pain will have to do. He can’t physically wait any longer; It’s not just the fact that he’s going to erupt if Ace doesn’t hurry up and fuck him, Sanji thinks he’ll actually fucking die. He’s been holding his breath and feels fucking dizzy with need.

“P-Please Ace… I can’t take anymore… Just put it in… Please…”

The fingers are gently and carefully removed. Sanji blinks hard; His eyes are blurry, which feels like a new development. The cook hadn’t even noticed the wetness accumulating in his tear ducts. Ace grabs his chin tightly a final time and pushes his tongue deep into the blonde’s mouth in an aggressive claim. Then the Whitebeard pirate is spitting into his cupped hand. He coats his huge cock generously in saliva and starts lining himself up.

Ace’s thick, blunt cockhead meets Sanji’s puckered entrance, and for the first time the older male doesn’t have a grin seared to his face. Ace has never looked more threatening. More feral. His giant shoulders are shaking as he pants, brow furrowed tightly. Ace bites down hard as he starts to push inside.

Sanji couldn’t have prepared for the stretch. Not in a single day, at least.

The Whitebeard pirate’s cock is huge. The head alone breeches his asshole and Sanji’s body falls backwards; Eyes huge in fucking fear. His back arches up off the couch, and his legs shake as he tries not to come undone from being split in half. He can hear himself making the most unhinged, terrified fucking noises, but his mind feels too disconnected from his body to stop. Luckily the older pirate’s hand comes to cover his mouth, otherwise the crew could very well learn of what the two are doing, all alone in the kitchen. Tears spill down his cheeks and Sanji wants to scream, but Ace’s voice is in his ear, coaxing him to calm down.

“It’s okay, Sanji… you just need to relax for me… I can feel you gripping my cock… just relax and take me... C’mon, baby… you wanted so badly to take me…”

The cook closes his eyes and tries to let Ace’s voice lull him into submission. I want this, Sanji tells himself. I need this. It helps somewhat. Until the bigger male is leaning forward to push himself deeper inside. Sanji lets out a grinding, muffled yell. He has nowhere to run from the intrusion so all he can do is grip the couch cushion so tightly that he’s sure it’ll hurt tomorrow, but at least it distracts partially from the ungodly stretch. It feels like he’s going to tear. How can it all possibly fit inside?

It's agony for a few long moments as Ace sits engorged inside of his asshole. It dawns on Sanji momentarily that the Whitebeard pirate has taken his virginity: Ripped it away from him in the middle of the desert, with his crewmates just a few feet away. After the older pirate seems to catch his breath, he brings his hand to Sanji’s face, stroking it lightly.

“You did it, Sanji… you took all of it…” Ace brings his mouth to the blonde’s ear, “My cock’s fully inside of you now… Does it feel good, baby?... Being fucked by a man?... Do you like feeling a cock up your ass?”

“Unnnhhhhhhhh… A-Ace…”

“I want you to look me in the eyes while I take you, Sanji. Look at me and tell me that it feels good.” The first thrust comes, and it knocks Sanji’s breath right out of him. The big cock inside of him is so long that the head hits the cook’s delicate bundle of nerves with even the slightest movement. The cook’s eyes widen as his cock springs back to life. He brings his hands to Ace’s shoulders, digging his nails in to secure himself. He looks up into warm amber and tries to get his useless mouth to work.

“It… feels good… A-Ace… your… your cock feels…so good… uhhhhhhhh.”

 Perhaps it was a mistake to follow his orders, because the admittance makes Ace snap his hips harder into the blonde. He starts a devastating, punishing rhythm. The sound of the Whitebeard pirate’s body thudding against Sanji’s is loud and downright obscene. The cook worries momentarily about the pounding sounds being heard outside of the kitchen, but as Ace fucks him, all thoughts cease to be: All that’s left is the pain and pleasure.

Sanji doesn’t know how he isn’t wrung dry on the Whitebeard pirate’s lethal cock as he takes him on the small couch. Everything is spinning and blurring together but he keeps his eyes locked onto Ace. The black-haired man’s expressions are beautiful as he slams himself into Sanji, and although he’s being rough, Ace leans down to give the blonde sensual kisses as he thrusts inside. The cook rakes his nails down Ace’s back, and he responds by speeding up; Properly and aggressively fucking him open. Sanji doesn’t know how he lasted this long. Or maybe he already came, and he just didn’t realize it. Or maybe he’s been coming this whole time, he doesn’t fucking know anymore. The place deep inside of him, that feels like a thousand simultaneous orgasms, is being punched over and over again, and Sanji’s not sure he still exists in his body anymore. Maybe he’s always just been a cocksleeve, and he’s momentarily gained sentience just so he could experience being broken on Ace’s fat cock.

He doesn’t know how long it lasts, or what whispers of words are being growled into his ear as he’s wrung dry; But Sanji looks up into blown-out amber eyes and with a jerk and a groan, punctuated by a final punch of Ace’s hips, they’re coming.

It feels like it happens in high definition, the feeling of Ace’s hot release filling up a space inside of him that Sanji didn’t know existed. He can feel the ridges of the veins in the Whitebeard pirate’s cock as he ejaculates inside, filling Sanji with his warm sperm. The cook’s vaguely aware that his own prick lies on his stomach, in a fresh pool of his own release, but it seems like such an unimportant detail in the moment. All his body cares about is the pleasure of the male inside of him. Maybe he is just a cocksleeve after all.

Sanji’s vaguely aware of a hand that comes up to brush his sweat-slick hair out of his face. He can’t move; There’s nothing left inside of him but a gelatinous feeling. The cook’s hands are hung limply around Ace’s sweaty back, twitching uselessly. Sanji is too fucked out to do anything but stare at the face of the man who took his virginity, but at least he can recognize how goddamn handsome of a face it is. Ace can have this anytime he wants; Sanji’s pretty sure he would let him have anything at this point.

Ace leans down a final time, tangling their lips together softly. Then he’s pulling back and gives the cook a wide, tired grin. “You took me so good, Sanji-kun…” He presses a warm, lingering kiss against the cook’s cheek.

“Do you regret your decision at all?”

The blonde swallows hard, it takes a few tries to conjure up his crackling voice from the sheer exhaustion.

“No… not at all, Ace…”

 The Whitebeard pirate chuckles gently, starting to shift on top of Sanji. He grips the base of his cock, to prepare to pull himself out of the blonde carefully. Ace starts to drag himself out and-

-BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Sanjiiiiii……” The familiar whine of Luffy’s voice vibrates on the other side of the kitchen door.

“Is dinner almost ready? Everyone’s starviiiiiiing……”

The two exchange startled glances and then cook slaps his hand against his forehead.

“Shit…”

Chapter Text

It's one of Doflamingo's most treasured pastimes: Breaking in his new playthings.

There's a profound exhilaration that comes from acquiring a new pet. In discovering what it is that motivates them.

Fear,

pride,

intelligence (rare).

Each one is so beautifully unique.

Unique too, in the ways in which they bend and break.

Finding each delicate pressure point to poke and prod is a rather enjoyable undertaking of the Warlord's.

Female or male, it hardly matters to Doflamingo.

Both are fun, in their own respective ways.

Cunts, of course, are naturally lower. Their servile nature is woven into their DNA, evident in the way that they are easy to overpower. In Doflamingo's experience, they learn their place quickly. His female pets tend to bend the knee without needing the suffering that the males beg for.

It's one of the reasons that the Warlord thinks the females are the smarter of the species.

They are much more likely to get creative, which is deliciously entertaining. Such formidable self-preservation built into such powerless creatures is inherently oxymoronic, Doflamingo thinks. Perhaps there's a pathetic sort of strength to be admired in such suffering. Or at the very least, he's understanding of the choices they have to make, given the cards they've been dealt.

Males, on the other hand, are gravely stupid.

Such cocky, prideful things.

Male dogs exist as though they are much more than they truly are. Most of them imagine themselves as some sort of hero, like those found in children's books. Forged from the Heaven's by a skillful god, no doubt, in their grand delusions.

It's so laughably pathetic in its own right. That males believe so truly that they are immune to suffering.

They almost always believe themselves to be the 'special one'.

The one that Donquixote Doflamingo cannot break.

Perhaps it's what dangles between their legs, that fills their brains with such idiotic ideologies.

Men are wrought with hubris. Pride burns so deeply in their blood streams. They always desire the fight. They beg for the blood, the pain.

Even more so than the cunts, Doflamingo knows it's the male bitches who yearn to be put in their places, whether deep down they know it or not.

The Warlord considers himself a benevolent God, when he so desires to be. He's more than willing to provide lowly creatures with what they so clearly ache for.

Males require more severity, and infinitely more training than the females, but when that moment does finally come; When Doflamingo's new toy crumbles, for the first time, before him:

God,  nothing in this wide world makes his balls swell as heavily or his cock throb quite the same way.

It's so poetically gratifying: To watch the mouth that bared its teeth at him, open wide and welcome the Warlord in; To watch a pet wrap itself so reverently around a massive cock, watching the moment its eyes slip closed. As it takes Doflamingo down as far as it can possibly go, and then impossibly further still.

When a male plaything finally shatters to that point of no return. That moment is what the Warlord wishes he could bottle up and drink from over and over.

There's something so pure about it, the moment a bitch learns it's place in Doflamingo's world. When his pet gets to that point, when it isn't even able anymore to care if the Warlord's dick cuts off its airways or brings up its meager scraps from the night prior. When it takes Doflamingo inside of it, accepting its existence as simply a means to an end; The 'end' being the Warlord's fresh, hot load of sperm. His ejaculate serving as a gracious reward for only the most deserving of cocksleeves.

In Doflamingo's experience, it takes a lot more for a male dog to learn it's place, but when it finally does: it will never forget it.

Which is why they're so much fun to play with.

Ultimately though, this little hobby of his is nothing more than that. Just a bit of fun to pass the time, as he conquers this pestilent world.

The world that Doflamingo has found himself perched atop is infested with rot and writhing with maggots. And although it's fun on occasion, to squish them under his freshly polished, immaculate, leather shoes, there's only so much amusement to be gleaned from these playthings of his.

After all, a maggot is a maggot.

Well… the Warlord ponders, looking down to his feet where his new pet kneels. Every part of him bared beautifully to Doflamingo's scrutiny.

Zoro is at least a dog, he supposes, and quite a gorgeous one at that.

Doflamingo cannot help the way his grin stretches wide across his face as he looks into one hard, steely eye; Belonging to an animal who's no doubt seething with hatred for the Warlord, at what it's agreed to endure on behalf of other worthless creatures it thinks can be spared of Doflamingo's wrath.

Unusually noble, Doffy notes, the males don't usually tend to be so… sacrificial. Perhaps this one is a little bit unique in his design. Though there's no limit to what male dogs believe they'll be able to withstand, this one feels different to the Warlord.

Roronoa Zoro, he recalls.

That was the name it had hissed at him earlier today, in the midst of combat. Vaguely familiar sounding, it drew to mind wanted posters Doffy had glanced upon whilst taking pisses in wayward alleyways.

Even more recognizable, was when this Zoro wielded three swords to fight with. The former bounty hunter turned pirate, ah yes, how could he have forgotten? Part of the Straw hat brat’s crew, and unfortunately, devilishly handsome in the flesh. And even with an eye gouged from his head, he’d fought incredibly with his blades.

 It was mesmerizing to watch; He looked hilariously reminiscent of a circus performer, and the male’s unsightly green hair only added to the ridiculous display.

Things grew even more intriguing when the handsome, green-haired mutt had begun taking out swathes of Donquixote pirates, painting Dressrosa red in his wake.

It's been so dreadfully long since the Warlord has had something interesting to play with, and watching that lowly creature conjure up Earth-splitting tornados with his swords, rending entire blocks of buildings asunder, and tearing through dozens of Doflamingo's minions like they were made of tissue paper;

Fuck,  he hasn't gotten that rock-hard in a long time.

Of course Doflamingo needed to acquire Roronoa Zoro, and acquire him, he did.

When the beautiful mutt awoke strung up in his playroom (a secure, hidden chamber located many stories underneath Doflamingo's estate, outfitted with a plethora of toys he uses to his liking) he was astoundingly calm.

There was no screaming, nor pleading; No hurling of insults or threats at the Warlord.

No, instead the dog had coolly requested a bargain be struck. And although a maggot in his position has no sway to be making demands of Donquixote Doflamingo, it was admittedly intriguing.

The Warlord sat across from the male, caught like a fly in his web. He dangled upside down in the air, and Doffy listened, enraptured as Zoro spoke.

The deal Roronoa laid forth was simple in its design, yet surprisingly tantalizing: Doflamingo is not to lay a hand on Zoro's crewmates, whom the Warlord had informed the mutt he’d acquired alongside himself, and in exchange, Zoro offered up himself.

Or rather, his subservience. He told Doflamingo with an unwavering stoicism that he would do whatever the Warlord ordered of him (save from hurting anyone, the dog had hastily added).

It was the first time in a long time that a plaything had rendered Doflamingo speechless, to ponder over the offer laid before him. The Warlord stretched his long legs in the throne he sat upon. He brought his hand to his chin to think it over at his leisure, taking his sweet time as all of the blood in the mutt's body leaked downwards to his head.

Although Doflamingo will always do, nothing short of, whatever the fuck he wants to, the game that this Zoro was proposing was far too tasty to pass up. After all, the Warlord wouldn't even have to bend the rules to win. All he needed to do, is what Doffy was always going to: Break the resolve of the gorgeous, enticing, green-haired mutt in his midst. Hollow him out entirely, then make a proper cocksleeve out of whatever's left.

Far too easy a challenge in his opinion, but Doflamingo has a proclivity for games.

So why not throw the dog a bone? He'd thought.

His smile had stretched so wide across his face that it felt like it would tear the musculature of his cheeks. With a deep, booming laugh Doflamingo regarded the insect caught in its woven sepulcher.

"Alright, Roronoa Zoro. You've got yourself a deal."

The Warlord released his threads, dropping Zoro with an unceremonious thud to the floor. Perhaps the exact place he belongs. The dog righted itself with a grimace and observed his newfound surroundings with a deep-set frown. The Warlord followed its gaze as Zoro looked upon the various tools and toys that adorn the walls of this bricked-in prison cell. The dog’s apprehension was unmistakable, and Doffy drank it down greedily.

He’d knelt down to Zoro’s level and pressed a hard finger into his new pet’s chin, forcing its one working eye up to meet the glare of the Warlord's sunglasses.

"Though should you fail to uphold your end of our agreement…” Doffy leaned in close, settling his lips gently against the shell of Zoro’s ear.  “I'm going to have so much fun dismembering each of your little crewmates. As a treat, you'll be the puppet I use to carry out the deed... How do you think it'll feel, Zoro? When you're forced to look your friends in the eyes, as you rend them limb from limb?"

The Warlord pulled his mouth away, letting the words settle thick in the air. The dog was shaking, nearly imperceptibly, but Doflamingo could see the telltale tick.

Doffy laughed loud and tauntingly. "Of course, I'll have my fun with them first. Only when I tire of the noises that they make, will I allow them the privilege of death."

A shiver ran down Zoro’s body noticeably. Doflamingo could feel the rage simmering just under its skin, but it gave the Warlord a taste of that gorgeous restraint, bit down hard and said:

"I'm not going to let you hurt them. Do whatever you want to me… I won't waiver."

Fuck.  The sincerity of Zoro’s voice gave the Warlord the fattest stiffy he’s hand in a long time. His cock filled hot with blood causing it to tent his nice, suit pants.

'Do whatever you want to me.' It had said, making Doflamingo grin like a kid in a candy shop.

"Gladly." 

He'd answered.

…

Doflamingo sits upon a throne of sorts, before his newly acquired plaything. It was a pain to lug the giant, handcrafted, mostly gold-comprised piece of furniture down to the playroom, (well, it was a pain for the unlucky servants tasked with the job, Doffy assumes) though well-worth the endeavor. The Warlord thought it vital: To have a stark, visual representation of the differences in status between himself and the pets he brings down here.

Everything in his playroom is intentional; From the stone flooring that does so little to keep in body heat and is uncomfortable to sit upon, to the whips and floggers that hang in plain sight.

Not everything is psychologically relevant; Some of the design choices were simply practical. For example, the flooring and walls are easy to wash down and disinfect; There’s plenty of hooks outfitted in the walls, floor, and ceiling, easy places to attach a chain to; There’s a lowered corner of the room outfitted with a drain and faucet for cleaning purposes. There’s a toilet and sink.

Everything the Warlord could possibly desire is within arm’s reach down here, or a mere phone call away.

Doflamingo reaches out and grabs his glass of wine, sitting atop the small table beside him. He slowly swirls the red liquid around the glass, aerating it for a long beat before bringing it to his lips and taking a small sip. The flavor coats his mouth, and he sighs blissfully. Enjoying the heat that chases the alcohol as it goes down. He rests it back on the table carefully before allowing himself a glance down to his present company.

Roronoa Zoro looks up at the Warlord with a deep blush staining his cheeks (nearly the same merlot color as his wine), and wears a tight, uncomfortable expression. The cause of the discomfort is probably due to his unclothed state, or perhaps it’s because Doflamingo has adorned his new pet with a sturdy, leather collar. And attached to that collar is a long, black leash which Doffy holds in his hand. Perfectly befitting attire for a dog, he thinks idly.

Doflamingo, on the other hand, is wearing his favorite, beautifully tailored, maroon suit. He loves that the color is perfectly reminiscent of oxidized blood. His shirt is made of black silk and his belt and fine shoes match. It’s another reason he’d had his slaves drag the nearly 400-pound chair several stories downward, hauling it dangerously down many steep, descending staircases; He loves the contrast of it all.

The Warlord can’t stop studying the way Zoro looks sitting at his feet. He’d made the dog undress before him, and now he kneels, in his natural state; Naked as the day he was born, every part of him bared for the Warlord.

And fuck, what a sight it is to behold.

Zoro’s body is beautiful in its design. The Warlord can forget that such common mongrels can be so utterly breathtaking. Doffy is shameless as he gazes and gawks at his new pet, his eyes following every divot of his impressive musculature, feeling out every bulging vein. He takes his time, studying all of the less intimate areas first. His powerful back; Perfectly defined arms; The soft fall of his green hair (the hair on his head, that is). Doflamingo takes all of his new pet in before he allows his eyes to fall, his gaze like warm fingers, exploring what lies nestled softly between Zoro's thighs.

The dog swallows hard as Doflamingo’s eyes travel down the soft skin of his muscular abdomen. The jagged scar that runs from his left shoulder diagonally down to his right flank is a fascinating detail. The Warlord wonders with a hint of jealousy, just who was able to get close enough to mar him in such a way.

 Zoro doesn’t have much hair on his stomach, but there is a small, wispy trail that starts just underneath his naval. Curiously green, just like the hair on its head; So it must be natural. It feels so sinfully right to learn of this dog’s matching pubic hair; To look down to his uncovered sex, on full, unflinching display and learn of what he looks like down there.

He's not excessively hairy, though his pubes seem untrimmed in the way that they frame his decently sized, flaccid penis. From the soft way his testicles splay against the cold stone floor where he sits; To the way Zoro’s reddened nipples harden in the cool air of the playroom: All of it is beautifully seized information.

Information that the Warlord has every right to. And with every act that he and his pet commit together tonight, Doflamingo will conquer and seize more and more from him.

Until there’s nothing left of Roronoa Zoro that does not belong, in its entirety, to Donquixote Doflamingo.

The Warlord brings his free hand to his clothed hard-on, gripping the large appendage in his suit pants to give his pet a glimpse of what it’ll be worshipping. Doffy gently runs his fingers along his shaft, then gathers his length in his hand; His long, thick cock prominent through the material as he grips himself.

If the dog is afraid in the slightest, he’s doing a decent job hiding it. The telltale tick from earlier is gone, Roronoa only swallows hard at the display, and watches in silence as Doflamingo touches himself.

The Warlord spreads his legs open, his feet curtaining either side of the mutt. Doffy smiles with his mouth open at Zoro, letting some breathy noises spill out as he presses down harder on his cock, rubbing himself off shamelessly in front of him; Languidly, because he can. Because this dog has no choice but to sit at his feet and witness, and the sooner it accepts its place in Doflamingo’s world, the less suffering it will have to endure.

Doflamingo chuckles at the tight expression on the mutt’s face. He stills his wandering hand.

“Are you ready to begin, Zoro? Or would you like a moment to still yourself?” Doffy’s deep voice pours out in a mimicry of sincerity, but the taunting cadence is hard to mask. Though he is being sincere. Doflamingo sees little point in cruelty without purpose, he’s not unwilling to offer reprieve to a pet that deserves it.

The green-haired male lifts his head slowly, one cold, gray eye meeting the Warlord’s tinged glasses.

“Like I said before, I won’t waiver... Do your worst.”

The Warlord cocks his head slightly, resting his curled fist against his temple.

“My worst?” He asks with an amused lilt.

“No. I shall do only what I desire with you, mutt. Nothing more, nothing less.” Doflamingo tugs at the leash, making the dog raise his head to better look him in the eye. “Do you understand?”

Zoro just barely nods his head then looks away, perhaps exercising the most defiance he can within his bonds. Poor thing. The Warlord pulls the leash backwards making the mutt step back so he can stretch his long legs and stand from his throne.

Doflamingo gets up and leads Zoro, who makes pretty, petulant grunts as he’s forced to crawl along the harsh floor, to the wall where many of the Warlord’s instruments hang. There’s one in particular that Doflamingo seeks; Peculiar-shaped, and similar looking to a clothes hanger.

He grabs the tool from its hallowed place on the wall. It’s comprised of two flat, long pieces of varnished black wood, fastened together on both ends by adjustable bolts. If one were to look at the object face-on, they would see a noticeable gap where the two pieces lay against each other; It isn’t a very sizeable opening. And although they won’t be used at this moment, there are attachments that can be added to this particular toy, should the Warlord desire more constraint.

Doflamingo walks his dog back to his throne, plopping back down to take another swig of the fine wine he enjoys so much. When he’s finished, he holds the wooden object low in front of Zoro’s face, showing it to him. The bigger man is barely able to restrain a smile as the mutt studies it up and down.

“Do you know what this is, Zoro?”

His pet seems to think long and hard about it, before shaking his head slowly. Doffy lets out a deep, resounding chuckle that echoes off of the stone walls.

“Well… as you can see, I have a rather large collection of toys and instruments, which I use for a variety of reasons when spending time with my pets... Not every item you see before you will grace your body today… so do try not to worry yourself too much. This tool, however, is a standard attachment for my male dogs... It’s called a ‘humbler’. Can you guess it’s purpose?”

Zoro narrows his good eye at the Warlord before opening his mouth cautiously.

“To… humble… people?” He replies unsure. A slow smirk spreads over Doflamingo’s features.

“That’s exactly right, Zoro. Good boy.” Doffy says, only a hint of derision slipping through.

“Go ahead and turn around, ass facing me please. And keep your legs open.”

The mutt looks apprehensive, but he follows the order, turning around so Doflamingo can get a good look at his little, reddened ass. His pet does not keep its legs open as instructed, so Doffy takes the leash and smacks it with medium force against an ass cheek, reminding it. It seems to work because a noise clicks in Zoro’s throat, and he opens up.

In this position, the Warlord gets a good view of his backside. He cannot yet glimpse between his pet’s cheeks, which is fine for now. The Warlord knows that the longer he abstains from his desires, the more rewarding it’ll be.

The mutt’s scrotum hangs down prettily in front of Doffy, and he sees that Zoro’s balls are a good size as well. Tragically perfect for breeding, the Warlord thinks. He runs his thumb lightly down its taint, delighted when the dog flinches in discomfort. Doflamingo unscrews the sides of the humbler enough to widen the gap, then feeds Zoro’s balls carefully through the opening. The wood is cold in his hands.

“This tool is excellent for keeping male pets in line. It’s much more convenient than castration… Though I haven’t ruled it out entirely in your case, relieving you of your manhood.”

Zoro looks back at him horrified, a harsh breath slipping out of his throat. The shocked look makes deep laughter boom out of the Warlord. He begins to gently screw the humbler shut.

“I’m just toying with you, gorgeous. I have no intention of taking these away.” Doflamingo punctuates his words with a light squeeze on the area, earning him a yelp. “They’re a great source of control when dealing with unruly bitches. It’s much more useful to keep them on the body… Though, no longer will you be allowed to adorn them like a true man.”

The Warlord finishes fastening the humbler to his mutt’s testicles and immediately Zoro shifts uncomfortably. His balls now dangle from the wooden accessory he’s forced to wear; Sandwiched tightly between the flat pieces. The green-haired dog starts to squirm, testing different positions to relieve the discomfort. He seems to discover quickly that he must now sit with his ass pushed out, to give his nuts the least tension from the wood pressing against his body. Certain motions, like walking or sitting or moving in general, pull them taut, so it has to behave in a very controlled manner. The humbler is a favorite of Doflamingo’s. His dogs should always be made to keep themselves low in his presence. Being forced to worship him through pain and humiliation is the natural order, for that is the relationship between God and man: Devotion through suffering.

Watching new pets learn of the humbler and why it’s called that truly never gets old.

Doflamingo has Zoro stretch his legs and walks him around the playroom with his new attachment. His poor pet has to take shameful, slow strides that pull painfully at his manhood. Zoro keeps his head down as he follows the leashes tug, the cracks in his resolve perhaps forming already.

The Warlord’s dick pulses and grows as he admires the humiliating display. Most males only get to this point of debasement after hours of brutal and needling trainings, so this arrangement feels extra delicious.

How much degradation can an unbroken mutt take before it snaps?

The Warlord goes back to his cushy seat. Doflamingo decides its time, for his pet to taste what Doffy’s kingdom has to offer. The Warlord spreads his long legs, keeping his eyes fixed to Zoro’s so he can revel in every micro expression. He unzips his suit pants, slowly slipping his long fingers inside his fly to tug his underwear down. The bigger man takes himself out of his pants and pulls the dog’s leash so it can get a closer look.

Statues could be erected in honor of Doflamingo’s massive, dangerous cock.

He’s uncut, only adding to the girth of his length. Even for his 10-foot-tall stature, he’s very well endowed.

His prick is long.

Girthy.

Weighty, even in the Warlord’s own giant hands.

A thick vein along the ridge pulses as it pumps the large organ full of blood.

When Zoro’s eyes settle on the uncovered appendage, Doffy can see the color drain away from his face. His pet’s disbelief and fear palpable at the prospect of having to put that in any of its orifices. Doflamingo’s blood burns with excitement.

The Warlord gives himself a nice couple of strokes for his pet, letting his pleasure begin to build slowly. Doffy slides his hand back into his tailored trousers and pulls his balls out of the garment. His huge, round testicles unfurl and hang down low and heavy from his cock.

The Warlord doesn’t bother to trim his pubic hair, because why would he? His nuts hover close to the green-haired male’s face, giving him a good, hard look at his salvation.

This is what Doflamingo savors above all else. It’s why if he truly had to choose, perhaps he is fonder of his males. There’s nothing more degrading in this world as a man, than being brought to your knees to worship another. More delicious even, is that the Warlord could force him with his Devil fruit abilities or raw strength if he so desired, but where would be the fun in that?

No.

Roronoa Zoro is going to worship Doflamingo simply because he commands it.

Once Doffy feels the mutt has had ample time to understand what’s happening, he yanks the leash slowly and controlled towards what he’s uncovered. Testing the dog’s resolve to see if it’ll willingly move its face closer to the Warlord’s manhood. He sees Zoro swallow hard and shakily, eyes going cartoonishly wide.

There’s resistance on the leash and Doffy’s pet does not obey immediately. Doflamingo keeps the pressure without building it; He doesn’t pull harder, or speak, or give the dog room to object, he simply keeps pulling steadily. Telling the dog nonverbally what it’s being tasked to do.

Zoro doesn’t hold out long. It happens in steps, but the male eventually brings himself where the Warlord guides him.

Doffy brings Zoro’s face to his massive, hairy balls, resting them lightly against his skin. He feels his toes curl at the panicky breaths tickling his testicles as the dog is forced to come to terms with its newfound reality. The Warlord keeps the dog’s face curtained by his nuts, taking some long sips of his wine, and a few deep breaths to curb the growing heat deep in his gut.

He is not going to rush this. Much like his immaculately aged drink, Doflamingo intends to savor every last drop.

He takes his cock in hand and begins stroking, bouncing his big balls unceremoniously on the mutt’s face. Laughing lightly when Zoro tightens his eye shut and tenses his entire body. Everything inside of him clearly wants to fight, to not allow another man to disrespect him like this, but he has the restraint to groan and keep his face buried where the Warlord put it. Doffy loves the delicious noises of his nuts slapping against his pet. When he feels certain that the dog isn’t going to pull itself away, Doflamingo leaves his balls pillowed on its nose, so his pet can properly breathe in his smell. His musk is something that the green-haired dog will know well. The Warlord is marking Zoro’s face with it, so he’ll never be able to forget his place in this world: Naked and leashed on his knees, beneath Donquixote Doflamingo, getting warm, sweaty balls wiped across his face.

He gives himself a few more strokes, rubbing Zoro’s face in it to his contentment. Once he’s satisfied, he pulls the dog away and grabs the swordsman’s chin holding him there. His pet’s expression has bloomed magnificently. It wears a deep scowl, cheeks stained a vibrant red. Zoro’s one eye is glaring at Doffy, but it’s smart enough to keep its tight, frowning mouth shut.

This one has lots of beautiful restraint, he’s gorgeously well-trained.

It will be glorious to watch him crumble.

Giving his pet no warning, Doffy’s hand winds tightly into green hair and he pulls the dog’s head backwards roughly, forcing Zoro to strain his neck and look up to the Warlord.

Doflamingo hocks and spits on him.

The thick gob of saliva lands with a splat right between the dog’s eyes. His pet makes a delicious, indignant, bitten-off noise, and the Warlord feels a sharp jolt of resistance.

To his disappointment though, Zoro corrects the behavior. He attempts to still himself beneath the Warlord, despite glowering with obvious rage. Doflamingo watches his spit run down the mutt’s nose, then chin, then slop onto his chest.

The Warlord is starting to wonder if his pet’s iron clad resolve isn’t the only thing at play; Perhaps deep down, Roronoa Zoro has already accepted that this is where he belongs.

Maybe he even enjoys this.

Doffy glances between Zoro’s legs checking for arousal, but to his surprise, its cock remains completely limp. How strange.

The Warlord brings a soft hand to the dog’s non-wet cheek, stroking it softly. The dog blinks hard at him, clearly confused at the switch up, but does not reject Doffy’s touch.

Zoro looks so perfect in this pliant position.

If Doflamingo isn’t careful, he could get attached to such subservience. Such humility. Such beauty.

Doffy pulls Zoro’s head back to baptize him again. His pet doesn’t understand it yet, but this is a blessing, a gift. This time around, Doflamingo releases his saliva slowly, intentionally making the mutt sit underneath him and watch as he’s spat upon. The Warlord aims for its useless, closed eye. He smiles wide in delight when the liquid dribbles onto its target, causing the dog to flinch and bite down hard enough to see his defined jaw flex. The glob gets stuck in its long eyelashes and the eyelid begins to twitch at the unpleasant sensation.

The Warlord makes the dog sit like that for a few, long moments, with its head pulled back awkwardly. The position looks thoroughly uncomfortable, but the dog keeps its incredibly toned body compliant. Doffy’s dick pulses warmly at the sight; His pet’s cock sits humiliating flaccid between its thighs; It has to keep its knees open, and ass pushed out to prevent its sandwiched balls from being tugged on cruelly.

What a gorgeous image, Doflamingo thinks idly. He’ll have to have one of his painters come by and replicate it; He’ll hang it right over his toilet.

Doffy releases his mutt from the strained pose. He brings its face back, so it’s positioned before the Warlord’s balls once again. The bigger, stronger male lifts his pulsating cock and his testicles greet the dog’s features once more. Another rich blessing, bestowed by a benevolent God.

He rubs his nuts against Zoro’s face, smearing his spit all over and getting both the mutt and his balls nice and slimy. The small, sharp whine it makes is something Doffy wishes he could replay over and over again. To his utter surprise and delight, Roronoa Zoro’s word remains unbroken, and he still does not fight back.

Most men with any shred of honor or dignity would die before they let someone disgrace them to this degree. The Warlord hopes the pet’s little friends are worth every moment of suffering he’ll wring out of him.

And just what would his crew think if they knew what their swordsman was letting a Warlord of the sea do to him? Would they even want him back?  

Doflamingo’s been content up until now to observe mostly in silence, so that his pet’s shame would be the loudest thing in the room. So that Zoro would have nothing to distract him from the burning, purifying humiliation of being deduced to a ball towel. But the Warlord is starting to wonder, just how far is this dog willing to go for maggots?

Indeed, it’s been a long time since something as interesting as Roronoa Zoro has stumbled into Doflamingo’s twisted web.

Though the Warlord isn’t necessarily eager for this tantalizing deal to be broken, it’s in his nature to dig his fingernails into fresh bruises, pick into fresh scabs until that bright blood dribbles out. He can’t help it.

"Do you enjoy that, pet? Does it feel good getting my spit-covered nuts rubbed on your pathetic face?" Doffy runs this thumb down a soft cheek as he addresses him.

Zoro sucks in a deep breath at the words. He bites down hard but eventually does shake his head weakly in response.

"Ah, ah, ah. When I ask you something, you speak, dog. I said, do you like it?" The hand that was petting him shoots in a flash to the mutt’s neck, fingers digging in tightly to the smooth skin. Zoro’s steely eye widens in horror before narrowing in hatred at him.

"No." It spits back at the Warlord through gritted teeth.

His blatant honesty makes a roaring laugh bellow out of Doflamingo. Such brazen insolence coming from a mutt covered in ball sweat and spit; How fascinating.

When the Warlord’s laughter dies down, his eyes roam over the pretty male he holds in his grasp. Zoro has this remarkable duality to him, that none of Doffy’s other playthings ever did. It’s so captivating, so strangely endearing. Doflamingo feels a fondness brewing deep inside for the handsome, green-haired male.

He can’t help it; Ever since his childhood, Doffy’s always gotten attached to his most favorite of toys.

That doesn’t mean, however, that the mutt’s disrespect will go unchecked.

Doflamingo clicks his tongue, considering all of the ways he could make the mutt sorry. The Warlord could make his pet tell him that he likes having spit-covered testicles slapped against his face, but in this moment, Doffy believes that allowing Zoro his autonomy is actually more humiliating; Because the dog’s answer never mattered.

"You'll learn to love it, Zoro. Just for that, go ahead and open that pretty mouth of yours."

Zoro glares at him for a moment that stretches so long, Doffy thinks he may actually have broken his resolve, but eventually his pet follows the order. He hesitantly opens his mouth wide for the Warlord, to receive Doffy’s blessing. Doflamingo hocks loud and slow, so the dog knows it’s coming.

 He spits a big gob into the mutt’s mouth, letting it settle onto his exposed, pink tongue.

Zoro sits with his mouth open as instructed, but Doffy can see the way the corners of his lips wobble in disgust, instinctively wanting so badly to reject the Warlord’s DNA.

Doflamingo laughs at him, mocking and cruel, eyes studying every pretty shade of red his pet’s cheeks turn at the shame and anger it no doubt feels roiling inside. Doffy takes another slow sip of his incredible wine, letting the taste of his saliva melt into the mutt’s tastebuds as he enjoys his drink. Such beautiful contrast.

"Swallow it." Doflamingo says slowly, emphasizing each melodic syllable. He wonders if the dog regrets its sharp tongue yet.

Zoro's mouth twitches more as he closes it. It tries to do as ordered but it looks like it takes a few shaky tries for his brain to actually swallow it. When he finally succeeds, an involuntary gag bubbles out of him, making a pathetic, gurgly noise that goes straight to the Warlord’s fat cock. He runs his big hand over it lightly, relishing that this is how he gets to relax and spend this fine evening.

"What an obedient dog you are, Zoro. I do hope you enjoyed the taste... Perhaps though we need to find some other tasks for that running mouth of yours."

Doflamingo shifts in his throne, pointing out a long leg in front of the mutt. Doffy holds his foot in the air, right underneath the mutt’s face for a moment. He gives it a good glimpse of expensive, slick, black leather, swiveling his ankle thoughtfully, feigning deliberation.

The stoic look on the swordsman’s face makes the Warlord want to rip it right off.

Doflamingo brings his foot to the ground in front of his pet and slackens the give on the leash. He points down at it with his empty hand.

"Clean it, mutt."

Zoro's face makes a cute, indignant expression. His eyes darken (well, eye) and he glares up at the warlord. The dog leans over slightly and slowly begins dusting the article with his hand.

Doffy watches absolutely amused.

"Are you trying to be cute, pet? It's certainly working… but playing dumb with me will not do. You can clean it properly, or I’ll bring in that red-headed whore and have her show you how it’s done.”

The dog clearly doesn’t like the Warlord’s threat because he lowers himself immediately, bringing his mouth to Doflamingo’s shoe.

So he was playing dumb, it looked quite natural on him. 

His pet’s pink tongue snakes out and Doflamingo watches, entranced as the swordsmen's tongue slowly meets the tip of black leather. Zoro drags the wet digit upward towards Doffy's ankle, getting its first real taste of what this life has to offer him. 

Or maybe his first taste was the Warlord's spit. Or maybe it was the musk of his balls rubbed upon his face. Or maybe each of these moments were beautiful firsts the Warlord seized from him, against his will. Moments he’s burned into the cur, that he’ll taste and experience long after Doffy’s tired of him.

It's so quiet in the room that all that can be heard is Zoro's barely restrained breathing against his footwear. The drag of its tongue makes little noise, and Doffy holds in his own breathing just to savor how embarrassing and pathetic and real it all feels.

There's no outside stimulus to distract from what’s happening in front of him, Zoro is bent over naked on the floor. His knees no doubt getting the brunt of his bodyweight against the unforgiving stone. His head is bowed down low, nearly to the ground so that its mouth can hover properly over the Warlord's expensive shoes; And those pretty, pink lips have parted so that its gorgeous, wet tongue can lave itself over the dirty material, cleaning and tasting in tandem, leaving shiny tracks of saliva all over. Worshipping the place Doflamingo walks upon.

Doffy moves his shoe around to get each side cleaned. When he feels his mutt has done a proper job, he yanks the leash up and points out the other leg. He says nothing as he offers it the second, to test if the dog will automatically offer up its obedience.

He’s delighted to find that his pet will. Zoro licks the second shoe without having to be told, and the Warlord shifts in his seat as his dick throbs. His cock feels so fucking hot with want, even sitting outside of his trousers. Doflamingo feels his massive nuts tighten at the beautiful display of a well-bred dog obeying its master.

"What a good dog you are, Zoro." Doffy strokes his pretty, green hair as his pet laps at his shoe.

His mutt is a bit hasty this time around. Zoro stops licking before Doffy gives the command, but the Warlord decides he’s willing to let it go for his subservience earlier.

 After all, a little give and take is very important when it comes to training. The humiliation of cleaning the Warlord shoes with his tongue is probably starting to sting in its proud gut, and Doffy is in no rush to push him over the edge yet.

“Look at the job you did, pet. They’re shinier even than when freshly polished.” He tugs at the leash, making Zoro sight back up straight, to look into his eyes.

“What a good little bootlicker you are."

The swordsman's body is trembling slightly, it's like Doflamingo can practically see the steam coming off of him. He almost wishes the pretty male would break so that he could see his beautiful anger rear its head. The dog’s biting down so hard he's practically baring his teeth at the Warlord. A little bit more prodding can’t hurt.

"You're so beautifully tame, Zoro... I wish I could say the same about those crewmates of yours."

The mutt’s face flushes a beautiful mauve color at the mention.

"I was surprised to see you traveling with such beauties… The barely 19-year-old with big tits and red hair… and the slightly older one, with that gorgeous figure and blue eyes... it would be such a shame not to get to enjoy them together... I wonder if they've ever tasted each other’s cunts?"

It starts as a quiet rumbling in Zoro's chest. Doffy's not sure the dog is even aware that he's making the noise, that he's growling at him. His pet’s body is so tense it looks like his muscles will cramp if he doesn't relax.

The warlord chuckles, only a hint of malice creeping through.

"The males are interesting as well; Some more than others. You, of course, are magnificently bred. Your body is quite excellent for a mutt and you're certainly not lacking between the legs." Doflamingo punctuates with a gentle tap of his shoe on the described area, dangling tragically soft (but even so, an impressive size for a common mongrel). The dog flinches at the contact.

"And those giant tits of yours... yes, you'll be oh so fun to play with... As for the others, your captain and the long-nosed dog are probably the least interesting of the bunch... But that pretty, little, blonde thing..."

Zoro blanches. A small, pathetic sound slips out of his pet’s throat, and Doflamingo nearly squeals in excitement; Delighted he's found a nice, sore area to dig his hooks into. The Warlord continues, keeping his gravelly voice light and nonchalant, as if he's discussing his next meal.

"Not much of a man, but he'd make an excellent bitch. Of course, he'll need some rather extensive training… he's got quite the foul mouth on him. I'll be sure to teach him some manners first… Maybe it would do well to string him up, have you breed him a few times so that he can break under someone familiar. What do you think, pet? Does the thought of it make your cock harden? "

"You... You promised you wouldn't touch them... if I obeyed you..."

Doffy clicks his tongue, feigning disappointment. "That's right... I did. And I suppose you've been a very good boy..." He chuckles, patting the dog’s head condescendingly. "I'm just teasing, mutt... I always keep my word. Even to the lowest bootlicking, ball sniffing cocksuckers like you... And I'll admit, your resolve is incredible. Forged like steel, just like those corded muscles of yours... I should have anticipated how disciplined you'd be." Doffy's eyes darken, his expression twisting.

"But I'm rather good at breaking in dogs. Perhaps you'll be the one who holds out forever, or more than likely you'll snap hard, and when you do: I'm going to have so much fun torturing your little crewmates. Maybe I'll even let you watch as I make them rape each other."

Zoro gulps loudly, his face white as a sheet. The mutt’s open mouth shakes for a second and his eyebrows curl down in anger at Doflamingo’s words. His pet swallows down whatever thing he clearly wanted to say to the warlord. He just looks back into Doffy's eyes challengingly, with his mouth snapped shut, and Doffy loves a challenge.

Doflamingo pulls up his cock showing the swordsman his balls again. There are other humiliating, degrading, and painful things the Warlord could do to break the mutt, but having a male worship him here is priceless. It’s a favored method of Doffy’s because it’s just so glorious to behold.

"Have you ever licked a man here before?"

"No."

Doffy chuckles, feeling it vibrate deep in his chest. "Well then, today's your lucky day, isn't it, dog?"

"Y... Yes." Doffy laughs harder, oh how quickly it learned its lesson from having to swallow spit.

"That's right, pet. Bitches love the taste of their master's balls. Go ahead Zoro, show me how good you are at worshipping your betters."

Zoro brings his face closer on his own, as instructed. He slowly sticks out that pretty pink tongue once more. Doflamingo can barely restrain his laughter as he hesitantly kitten licks the saggy skin. It’s so fucking pathetic, and slow, and the dog is barely even touching the Warlord’s testicles, but Doffy isn’t going to intervene just yet. He loves seeing the deep humiliation of a man being forced to lick another man’s balls. In fact, Doffy's not sure there are many things more degrading than that.

Zoro licks the Warlord’s big balls with just the tip of his tongue, feather light. He’d licked Doffy’s shoes much more thoroughly. But the fact that the mutt even put his mouth here is so deliciously fucking shameful.

He’ll wear this shame like a brand, forever. This is seared into the swordsman’s DNA. Roronoa Zoro will take this shame to the grave.

The dog mostly stays at the seam rather than the balls themselves, licking up and down in short, unsatisfying motions, not tasting or laving properly. Doflamingo leaves his pet to his inadequate ministrations until Zoro cautiously stops, his tongue falling away. He pulls back slightly and looks down to the ground, as if to signal he’s done with his task.

 It's adorable that he thinks he still has the autonomy to choose when to stop.

"That's strange. I don't remember telling you to stop cleaning my nuts... I suppose it's fine though, Zoro... You don't have to do this."

His pet looks back up slowly, Doffy waits until their eyes meet before continuing.

"Perhaps you'd rather clean each of your crewmates, one by one. It seems fitting for the captain to get first honors, but don't worry, I'll make sure your tongue learns the taste of each of them." The Warlord grabs Zoro’s chin tight, digging his fingers in as he says the words, making the mutt stare into the red glare of his glasses and see his own pathetic expression looking back.

"Please don't..."

"Then what the fuck are you waiting for, mutt?" Doflamingo lets his hand fly, smacking Zoro hard with the back of his digit and a delicious gasp falls out of the swordsman. "My balls aren’t even wet, stick your fucking tongue out and lick them clean. Show me how a fucking bitch earns its place, dog."

Doffy tangles his hand into green hair, throwing the dog’s face into his throbbing testicles. Zoro closes his eyes tight and licks the massive nuts hard and fast, spreading his saliva around so it coats his face and dribbles everywhere.

"Yeah. That's right, bitch. How do my balls taste?"

Zoro lets out a small whine. "G... good."

Doflamingo pulls hard on his leash, cutting off its airways as it gasps and sputters.

"I said, how do my fucking balls taste, cocksucker?"

"Good... they taste good..." The Warlord fists his hand in the dog's green hair harshly, pulling hard at the root to maneuver him to his liking.

"Oh yeah?" Doffy asks with a mocking lilt. "Then open up wide and suck on them... Yeah, you fucking heard me, put them in your mouth and gargle my fucking nuts."

Doflamingo’s sickening smile widens as the dog tries to open its mouth wide enough; The Warlord’s testicles are huge, especially in relation to the smaller stature of the male trying to wrap his mouth around them. Zoro sucks one in slowly, his lips opening wide as he sucks the gob in. The engulfing warmth and moisture feels amazing around Doflamingo's genitals.

The dog has to try so hard to keep its teeth tucked back properly and has to use his other hand to try to gently push the other testicle inside its mouth, all while trying to make sure he's handling the sensitive parts with proper care.

It's incredibly satisfying to witness.

Doflamingo stretches his legs as the mutt slowly makes his mouth a resting place for the Warlord's massive balls. Once he’s got both in, it’s like the dog has stuffed two large avocados in his mouth and is drooling and sputtering and turning red as he struggles to breathe around them. But he'll keep them right where the Warlord wants. Unless the bitch wants its friends to suffer the same fate.

It makes the saddest, gurling noise in its throat and saliva spurts everywhere at its sad fucking attempt to gargle with Doflamingo's testicles in its mouth. The Warlord was speaking in euphemism when he'd ordered him to 'gargle his nuts' but this is so deliciously fucking pathetic that he's not even going to correct the bitch. In fact, he wishes he had a photograph to savor this moment forever. 

He lets the dog struggle for a while as he sits back in his throne, keeping his eyes locked on Zoro to encourage his efforts. He indulges in some wine as his balls are thoroughly cleaned and laved at and gargled, holding in a thunderous laugh.

It’s not long before Doflamingo has downed the rest of his drink, so Doffy pushes on the small snail in his ear until he hears the beep of the receiver.

"Wine." He says before letting go of the button. The Warlord sits back languidly, enjoying the hot mouth on his nuts and the sounds of his pet’s salvation. It’s not long before the click of the door rings out in the cell and his pet’s eyes look to triple in size as it hears someone coming in.

One of the nameless servants has a chilled bottle of Doflamingo’s favorite in its hands. It comes up to fill the glass and does not acknowledge or even look upon the dog knelt at his feet; Naked, leashed, mouth stuffed full of his scrotum. Doflamingo tips his glass out pointedly and it silently fills it. When done, it goes to leave but the Warlord's words stop it in its tracks.

"Leave the bottle."

It puts the bottle on the small table, then fucks off. In the whole brief interaction, Doffy made sure not to look even once at the male knelt on the floor, whose warm mouth is providing his balls a nice bath. The Warlord aerates his new cupful and takes a healthy drink, feeling his prick flick upwards at the sinfulness of everything.

Only once he's set his glass down does he finally look warmly back to the mutt. Its eyes look out of it. It's whole face is delightedly red, no doubt at the overwhelming humiliation of being a decoration. A ball rest.

The Warlord could stay like this for hours, drain the whole bottle as Roronoa Zoro slowly drains his testicles. It would be glorious and so monotonous for the mutt, but Doffy will save that for another time. He's much too eager for more. Doflamingo tips his massive cock upwards, loving the sight of his scrotum leading into his pet’s warm mouth. He studies the beautiful sight a while longer as Zoro’s one eye just glares back awkwardly.

"Do you enjoy the taste of man, Zoro?"

"Unnnhhhffff"

Doflamingo laughs at its muffled answer, ah yes, rather hard to speak with fat balls in your mouth.

Doffy gently pulls himself out of the dog's mouth and it gasps in air greedily, panting like its namesake. It must have had little oxygen to draw from with the Warlord in its mouth.

Doflamingo holds his balls close so Zoro can see his good work; How flushed and slick he's made the Warlord’s big, dangling nuts. A glint of light refracts as the mutt steadies its breathing, and Doflamingo can see a single strand of saliva connecting the dog's mouth to his ballsack. He watches it in awe as it forms into a droplet then dangles and drips onto the floor.

Doflamingo gives Zoro a long second to feel every residual ounce of pride or honor sink miserably down before he continues to stoke the fire.

"Are you still a man, Zoro?"

The dog looks like he's debating. Like he doesn't know what the warlord wants him to say.

"Y-Yes?"

Doffy smacks him hard in the face, loving the way the mutt gasps.

"Do men get on their knees and worship other men's balls, Zoro?"

Zoro swallows hard, looking thoroughly pissed. He answers quickly.

"No." The mutt says through gritted teeth. Good doggy, use those tiny braincells.

"No, they don't." Doflamingo repeats mockingly. "So I'll ask you again, Zoro, are you still a man?"

"No." The mutt growls, seething.

"That's right, good boy." The Warlord pats the dog’s face lighter but obnoxiously. "You're a bitch now, Zoro. I said it several times. But it's okay, you don't need a brain to follow orders, do you?"

"No." 

Doffy smiles wide. He takes a long sip of his wine downing his new cupful, until there's only a small bit left in the bottom of the glass. He pulls the dog's head up so it's looking at him, then dumps the liquid unceremoniously onto him, spilling the remnants down into its hair. A few red droplets spill through until they're dribbling down its saddened face. Eventually it drips onto the floor.

"Looks like you've spilled everywhere, Zoro. Would you like to lick your mess off of the floor?"

"... If you want me to..."

It says, all breathy and flustered and shameful. The Warlord’s giant, mean smile slowly fades. As he lets the dog's words hang heavy in the air for a long moment.

Doflamingo runs a gentle hand through the dry side of green hair.

"Now you're getting it, gorgeous."