Cheese!

eddie would say "this guy's bothering you babe?" every time you accidentally bump into something.

you're just walking around the trailer, taking back your plate to the kitchen when you hit your leg against the table, "ow you son of a bitch!" you'd yell out and eddie comes running from his room. his guitar tossed on the bed and music sheet has flown off his lap and got scattered all across the floor.

"what happened? you okay?" he'd ask then he'd see that the table has moved a bit since he last saw it about thirty minutes ago. "this guy's bothering you, sweetheart?" he'd walk towards the table and stare it down, "do i need to teach you a lesson here? hm? teach you not to hit on girls? and my girl nonetheless." his hands in fists, he'd buff out his chest, acting all tough and scary but it only makes him look adorable like a mad puppy.

"actually eds, technically i hit it." you'd tell him and he'd turn to you.

"babe you don't have to do this. don't defend this asshole just so i wouldn't hurt him." glaring at the table again, "come on bitch! not so brave now huh?"

then he'd act as if he's throwing hands with the table only for him to hit his foot against its leg, hard, and end up on the floor in the fatal position holding his foot in both hands and go "the soldier has fallen. i've been defeated by the evil forces of wooden home furniture. pass my kind regards and sorrow to the queen. long live rock and roll." then in true eddie fashion, he'd pretend to be dead with his tongue out and his middle finger pointed to his new immortal enemy, the table.

website

Yeesss I finally finished 🥹

For @chaoticspeedrun little mermaid au! Hope you like it👉👈this audio was stuck on my head and thought this would be perfect for Donnie😂

((I haven’t animated in a long time so it might be a bit rusty😭))

Let Me Take Care of You

Word count: 1900

Masterlist

Notes: A small, very light and cute one-shot in response to a post I saw a while ago. I really love Katakuri, and I’ve been wanting to write for him for a while, but I didn’t have a real project involving him. So when I saw your post, @mew-ya , I decided to go for it. I found your idea adorable, and it inspired this piece. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it nonetheless. I’m taking this chance to say that I really love your art, and your OC Maren is so cool! I absolutely love the duo he forms with Katakuri! 😍

Tags: Katakuri x gn!Reader, fluff, comfort, reader needs rest, SFW. English isn't my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

You’ve lost track of the days.

Since the failure of Pudding’s wedding, chaos has taken over Whole Cake Island, and rumors of the Charlotte Family’s disgrace are spreading like wildfire across the seas of the New World.

Alliances have been shaken, mistrust is eating away at the bonds woven between the different factions, and the pressure on Big Mom’s powerful family has become unbearable.

You were thrown into this turmoil immediately.

Your days blur together without pause, dictated by tense meetings, endless negotiations, and discussions where every word is carefully weighed. Even though she is not currently on the island, the Empress’s shadow looms over every exchange, and the slightest misstep could prove fatal.

But it’s not just the allies you have to deal with.

The Charlotte family members themselves have become more demanding, more impatient. They want guarantees, results, immediate solutions. You barely have time to breathe between requests.

"Prepare a detailed report on this week’s commercial movements." "We need to review the treaty conditions, make sure the new proposals are drafted by tomorrow." "Tell the cook I want a special dessert, now." "Why hasn’t this file been sent yet?" " The ministers of Totto Land are meeting in an hour, make sure everything is ready.."

Each demand piles on top of the last, forming a mountain of responsibilities that never seems to shrink.

You barely sleep, sometimes you forget to eat, but you don’t have the luxury of slowing down.

As Katakuri’s spouse, you cannot afford to fail.

Fortunately, you are never truly alone. There is always someone – or rather something – there to assist you without you even needing to lift a finger.

The Homies are everywhere around you. These little sentient beings, created by Big Mom, seem to anticipate your every need.

When you sit at your desk, a chair slides under you before you even pull it out.

When you reach for a pen, one of them is already handing it to you, practically vibrating with enthusiasm at the idea of serving you.

When an endless discussion with influential members of the Charlotte family leaves your throat dry, a cup of hot tea magically appears on the table in front of you, placed on a tray by a Homie who doesn’t say a word, preferring to slip away as soon as its task is complete.

If your stomach lets out a quiet growl - which you usually ignore, too focused on your work - a plate of food is suddenly placed beside you. Carefully chosen snacks, never too heavy, just enough to give you a boost of energy without forcing you to stop for too long. You’ve gotten used to eating without thinking, mechanically swallowing whatever is placed in front of you between two paragraphs, two reports, two meetings.

The Homies chatter cheerfully and frenetically around you, and you absentmindedly nod in acknowledgment, accepting what they offer without truly paying attention.

Everything is fluid, organized, almost too perfect. You never have to ask for anything. Everything you need is already there. You accept this silent help as a given, without questioning its origin, without even imagining that someone might be behind it all.

And yet…

That night, you are far too absorbed in your work to wonder about this strange phenomenon.

For weeks, you’ve been stringing together meetings and negotiations with relentless discipline. You barely sleep, you forget to eat, and whenever Katakuri tries to remind you to take a break, you always give him the same answer:

"I’m fine."

No.

You are not fine.

He has been watching you for days, waiting.

Each night, you stay awake long after Katakuri returns from his own missions. Sometimes, he finds you still sitting at your desk at dawn, dark circles under your eyes, fingers tightly gripping a pen or a stack of documents.

Katakuri is not a man of many words. He prefers to observe, to understand. He knows how to spot a crack before it becomes a fracture, how to anticipate a collapse before it’s too late.

And everything about you screams collapse.

He saw it in your posture, more tense than before. In your breathing, shorter. In your hands, trembling ever so slightly, a movement so subtle that no one else would notice.

But he sees everything.

He has been watching you, silently. He knows that look, the look of someone refusing to admit they are pushing past their own limits. He has seen it too often in himself, in his brothers and sisters… but seeing it in you is unbearable.

That night, it’s the last straw.

He comes back late from a mission and, just as he expected, you’re still awake, hunched over a desk buried under paperwork. You don’t even lift your head when he enters.

"You’re home late," you remark absentmindedly, scribbling something on an urgent mission report.

He doesn’t answer.

He has stopped in front of your desk, observing you in silence. He doesn’t need words to understand.

He has watched you exhaust yourself day after day, the fatigue deepening under your eyes, the stiffness settling into your body. He has noted every little sign: the dark circles, the slight thinness of your fingers, the way your shoulders tense under stress.

You want to be perfect.

You want everything to be under control, every task carried out with impeccable precision. Because you refuse to be a burden. Because you refuse to let anyone doubt your worth.

He knows this obsession. He knows what it’s like to want to be infallible.

But he also knows what it costs.

He steps closer and gently takes hold of your wrist, stopping your frantic movements. When he lifts your chin with his other hand to lock eyes with you, his expression is filled with concern.

His skin is warm against yours.

"You’re trembling," he states.

You pull slightly against his grip, trying to free yourself. But he doesn’t let go. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, doesn’t try to restrain you—only to hold you there, to make you understand that he won’t let this slide.

"I’m fine," you breathe out.

A lie.

Again.

And he’s had enough of hearing them.

"Did you take the time to eat properly today?" he asks.

Your gaze wavers.

"How much sleep have you gotten this week?"

You finally pull away, barely concealing your frustration.

"Kata, I don’t have time to rest. I have to make sure everything runs smoothly. The family has already suffered enough losses, I can’t…"

"You can’t what?"

He interrupts you, his voice slightly sharper. He doesn’t need to raise his tone.

"You can’t show the slightest weakness? Do you think that’s what will prove you deserve your place here?"

You clench your teeth.

"I have to be up to the task. After the disaster of Pudding’s wedding, we have to prove that we are still reliable. You don’t understand…"

"Don’t talk to me as if I don’t know what it means to carry a burden."

Silence falls. He still doesn’t break eye contact.

Then, without warning, he moves around the desk and lifts you effortlessly, his movements fluid and controlled. A small gasp of surprise escapes you, but he doesn’t give you the chance to protest further.

"Kata! Put me down right now, I have work to do!"

"No. Not tonight!"

His tone is firm.

He doesn’t slow down as he carries you away from your desk.

With slow but determined steps, he crosses the room. Every muscle in his body seems tense, not with anger, but with unwavering resolve and he gently sets you down on the couch before disappearing into the adjacent room.

You hear faint sounds: the opening of a cupboard, the soft clinking of porcelain.

A few moments later, he returns. In one hand, a thick, warm blanket. In the other, a steaming cup of tea.

Without a word, he drapes the blanket over you. Then, he places the cup in your hands. The contact of the warm ceramic against your fingers sends a slight shiver through you. You want to protest, to argue that you don’t need this, that you have to get back to work. But the moment the warmth of the cup seeps into your hands, something inside you cracks.

An invisible tension you weren’t even aware of carrying begins to fade, little by little. Your back, usually rigid and straight, sinks slightly against the couch. You slowly lower your gaze to the cup.

And suddenly, everything clicks into place.

The Homies who always seem to know exactly what you need. The snacks that appear without you asking. The supplies, the reports, the documents that always seem to be within reach.

It wasn’t coincidence.

It wasn’t just the Homies diligently doing their jobs.

It was him.

Katakuri.

Since the very beginning, he had made sure you ate, even when you were too absorbed in your work to think about it. He had ensured you stayed hydrated, that your belongings remained in order, that nothing was missing.

He had anticipated your every need, orchestrating everything in the shadows, without ever expecting anything in return. Without even telling you.

You slowly lift your eyes to him.

He says nothing.

He stands there, tall and imposing, arms crossed, watching you with that unwavering, piercing gaze. But there is no reproach, no irritation in his expression.

Only patience. And determination.

"You lecture me when I skip a meal, when I don’t get enough sleep… But what about you? Who takes care of you?"

You lower your eyes, unable to respond.

Because he’s right.

He sighs again and settles next to you. Then, to your great surprise, he loosens the scarf covering his face and lets it fall onto his lap.

This simple gesture is a silent declaration of trust, a way to show you that you are important enough for him to lower this barrier. One that he never lets down in front of anyone.

Katakuri never shows his face.

Even in your presence, he always ensures he stays in the shadows. He doesn’t want you to see him too clearly. He doesn’t want to witness that flicker of fear or disgust he has seen far too many times in others’ eyes. Even though you have told him, again and again, that his face neither frightens nor repulses you.

But that’s not the kind of thing one believes easily after a lifetime of rejection.

So, he never responded.

He never told you that he believes you, that he accepts your words.

But to you, it isn’t necessary. He doesn’t need to say it. You have understood for a long time that his scarf is not just an accessory.

It is his wall.

His shield.

And yet, tonight, he lets it fall.

Not for just anyone.

For you.

Right now, in this moment, there are no negotiations, no reports to write, no alliances to manage. There is only him, you, and this bubble of quiet he is trying to offer you.

He gently removes the cup from your hands and sets it on the table beside you.

Then, without a word, he reaches for the blanket he gave you earlier and wraps it around both of you, pulling you close to ensure the warmth envelops you both.

You take a deep breath, and the familiar scent of Katakuri soothes you more than you’d like to admit.

Little by little, your resistance fades. Your body gives in to exhaustion, and you let yourself lean into him.

You fought sleep for a moment, your mind still reluctant to completely surrender, but one last glance at him was enough to make you understand.

You can finally let go in complete safety.

Katakuri will not leave.

He will watch over you.

As he always has, in silence, in the shadows, without ever asking for recognition.

Tag list : @jintaka-hane @novemberhope @imveryyellow @lxshoxk @fanaticsnail @daydreamer-in-training @pandora-writes-one-piece Feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added (or removed) from the tag list.

Group Chat Chaos 18

(Bayverse) TMNT x GNReader

Warning: Profanity, Crude Humor

(Y/N): do you guys have tails?

LeoDaVinci: yes

(Y/N): how comes I’ve never seen them?

WreckItRalph: because we wear clothes..?

(Y/N): lemme see yours.

WreckItRalph: ..what?

DonDon: why are we discussing this?

MagicMike: I’ll show you mine!!

LeoDaVinci: you will do no such thing.

(Y/N): I just wanna see the tail

WreckItRalph: leave me alone.

MagicMike: I’LL SHOW YOU MY TAIL!!

LeoDaVinci: NO ONE IS SHOWING ANYONE ANYTHING!!

DonDon: what is happening rn?

(Y/N): raph lemme see dat ass

WreckItRalph: stop talking to me you little pervert

(Y/N): after u send me a pic of dat ass

WreckItRalph: I won’t hesitate to file a restraining order

(Y/N): I won’t hesitate to clap those cheeks

WreckItRalph: EXCUSE ME?!

LeoDaVinci: (Y/N) NO!!

(Y/N): SHUT UP YOU PRUDE!!

DonDon: I need to schedule another therapy appointment...

LeoDaVinci: you need to behave yourself

(Y/N): send me yours then

LeoDaVinci: absolutely not.

MagicMike: PICK ME!!

DonDon: this gc is my 13th reason why.

"...Donnie jumped up to sit straight at the feeling of five fingers on his forehead instead of three; his eyes examined the foreign hand in front of him with fascination and his expression turned gleeful at the realization of what he was looking at, a five-fingered hand in golden brown that was his own."

HUMAN DONNIE! I drew this the other day but could only post it now along chapter 3 of my The little merturtle AU.

did he tho?

inspired by this post

Pet Play: Bartolomeo

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 3,500

Themes: Bartolomeo x f!reader, Straw-Hat reader, mdni, 18+, smut, nsfw, Dom!reader, pet!Barto, praise kink, oral, gendered terms and endearments used.

Notes: first time writing for Barto, and I adore him. Day 5 of my birthday event!

It had been eight agonizing days of traveling with your crew alongside the Barto fanclub. Whichever way you turned, there was another picture of your face thrust into your body, with teary eyes and pens offered for you to sign the image held within by your fans. You appreciated their assistance, and did enjoy the fact that your captain gathered himself a following of devoted individuals, but it had began to overwhelm you.

As a Straw-Hat, you were a deity to be worshiped upon the pedestal held by the crew and captain of the Going Luffy. It was initially quite confronting, which then dove into overwhelming, and now simply infuriating. Their blatant disregard for your personal space had managed to make your skin crawl, and your lack of privacy had you so pent up you could burst in a rage at any moment.

The Thousand Sunny had little to no privacy as it was. Even living with a small crew of a few individuals made it difficult to find time to yourself to rejuvenate your energy - let alone now sharing the same air as those who couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone for more than was required to allow for your sleep.

What made it worse was the green-haired captain’s eyes. Those dark eyes upon his war-painted face would always find yours and beam up at you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him.

Captain Bartolomeo the Cannibal's were the eyes you would see each time you lay down to rest. Those eyes that looked up with child-like wonder as he expressed how much he adored you and his beloved Luffy. Those eyes you felt singe your back with their intensity each time you faced away, only to snap hastily anywhere else as soon as you caught him out.

It was too much.

A small call of your name broke you out of your seething, prompting you to turn to your two companions either side of you.

“Something the matter, dear?” Robin asked softly, checking you over with her knowing expression, “Have they been giving you a hard time?” She leaned back on her lounge chair to reach for her drink Sanji dutifully prepared for her.

“To be honest with you,” you confessed, piquing the interest of your copper-haired companion beside you, “This is the first moment I've had with just you guys since they came aboard.”

“Oh, I know,” Nami hummed thoughtfully as you spoke, darting her eyes towards the crowd and back to you once more, “Everywhere I go, it's just ‘Beautiful Miss Nami,’ or ‘Most Honorable Nami,’ or I think I got ‘Powerful Nami,’ at one stage - which I actually quite liked.”

Both you and Robin chuckled at her admission, garnering the attention of Bartolomeo as soon as he heard it.

To him, hearing the Straw-Hat women smile and laugh alongside him was the greatest symphony he'd ever witnessed. He felt compelled to tell you all as such, which prompted him to immediately rise to his feet and head up to the top deck towards the three of you.

“See, those names are beautiful, Nami,” you complimented her, which earned you a smile from her in response, “All I got was ‘Miss’. But yes, it's been really hard getting a moment's peace-.”

“-All of the beautiful Straw-Hat women in one spot, all lounging together like goddesses amongst us mere mortals,” Bartolomeo exclaimed with a wonder to his tone.

You groaned, hanging your head on your shoulder and pouting towards Robin. She chuckled and pursed her lips, giving a polite acknowledgement to Bartolomeo as he continued to sing praises of her ferocity and beauty.

He then focussed on Nami and spoke on her weather techniques and how much joy seeing her lightning gave him. His knack for storytelling and overemphasis on the words had you rolling your eyes and attempting to ignore him, but it was no use.

Each time you opened your mouth to speak to Robin, Bartolomeo’s growling voice barked out a whimsical wonderment towards Nami. Just as he began another tirade of how truly in awe he was to her polearm fighting techniques, you couldn't take it anymore and snapped at him.

“Down boy! Sit! Fuck, do I need to leash this guy?” you growled at him, causing him to immediately slink away from the three of you with his jaw slack. Before you had an opportunity to rephrase your wording, he plonked himself down on the floor, crossing one leg over the other and nodding at you in a frantic bob.

“You can leash me,” he whispered breathily, nodding once more with his eyes wide and wanting. “If it would make an angel more beautiful than anything my mind could conjure up in my dreams happy, I would do it-.”

“-Oh, stop with the praise, damn it,” you dismiss him, “Or I'll be forced to muzzle you too.” Nami sucked her bottom lip into her mouth to stifle her laugh while Robin drew her straw up to her lips and drank a small mouthful of the liquid.

Bartolomeo’s eyes rolled in his skull, his whine caught in his throat at the picture you gave him.

Of all of the Straw Hats, aside from Luffy, you were his favorite. He was always too nervous to approach you while either you or he was alone, simply because he felt as if he couldn't control what he would say to you. What was he to do, admit he had been in love with you the moment he captured your news clipping in his hands? Surely not.

“You don't need to muzzle me,” Bartolomeo confirmed with you softly, “I know how to behave. I can be a good boy for you.”

“Oh yeah?” you taunt him, leaning forward and challenging him with your glare, “You gonna be my good boy?”

Nami turned her head, her eyes wide while containing a squeal at the interaction between yourself and Bartolomeo. Robin’s smile grew in a large grin, her teeth now exposed and giving her an unhinged aura about her.

“I'll be anything you want me to. I can be your good boy,” Bartolomeo confessed breathily, your glare shooting sparks straight down to his cock and causing it to twitch against the seam in his pants. You reached forward, collecting his smooth chin in your fingers and smiling suggestively at him.

“Anything I want you to be?” you nod, looking down your nose at him and nodding suggestively. He mirrored your nod with his brows peaking at the center of his forehead. “Do you think you could start with being quiet? Then followed by you and your crew leaving us alone for at least two hours more than our sleep schedule every damn day?”

Nami burst out laughing, no longer able to contain her teeters. Robin’s soft chuckle joined hers, but your challenge never moved from your face.

Bartolomeo felt all of the air swell in his lungs at once, his breath snatched from him while being held beneath your stare. He let out a soft whimper, causing you to almost feel bad for him before he collected your right hand within both of his and tugged it tenderly away from his chin.

“If that's what you want, mistress,” he whispered, softly leaning down and pressing his forehead to your knuckles, “Then I'll keep myself and my crew away from you all when you need your space. I can be quiet. I promise.” He raised his head up and once again and beamed emotionally up at you, “I didn't mean to offend you with how much I like you all. I'll be quiet. I can do it, mistress.”

Your lips parted as he stood, releasing your hand from his grip and bowing low to you once reaching full stature.

“I'm sorry, ladies,” he nodded, raising his head to meet your eyes and depict his honesty, “I'll be whatever you need me to be. If you need me to be quiet, then I'll be quiet. I'll keep them all quiet. Again, I'm sorry.”

He backed away, causing your eyes to maintain their contact against his as he did so. Robin slowly held her eyes on yours and smirked as she noticed the slight hitch in your breath and fluster on your cheeks.

“Well, that was certainly something,” she chuckled contemplatively. “How did it make you feel?”

“A big ol', green-haired, sharp-toothed puppy dog following your orders,” Nami cooed beside you, causing heat to continue rising in your face and tips of your ears, “Did you see the way he looked at you? So devoted and needy.” Both women teased you with a soft coo, causing you to growl and hide your face in your hands.

“Fuck…” you whispered softly, raising your fingers to pinch at the bridge of your nose, “Something about the visual of him in a collar, leash, and muzzle did something. Damn it.”

“Hey, we don't Kink-Shame on the Thousand Sunny,” Nami pointed out, Robin nodding with a soft hum beside you in confirmation, “You wanna leash him, I'm pretty sure Sanji or Zoro might have something you can use. Or maybe Franky could make something for you-.”

“-You’re making it worse,” you growl at her. Her laugh once again rang melodiously through the top deck and down to the joint crew now being reprimanded by Bartolomeo.

“Don't you want him to be your ‘good boy’?” Robin probed you, “Have him sit by your heals and do little tricks to earn a reward?”

“Robin, damn it-!” you again groaned at her, “Not. Helping.”

“Would it help if we watched the door for you?” she shrugged nonchalantly, “Have you and Bartolomeo in a room together for you to invoke some discipline on the needy pup?” You turn and glare at her, causing her to place down her drink to raise her hands in submission.

“This was not meant with disrespect, love. I mean it,” she nodded at you, turning to Nami and nodding at her too, “We've all been pent up for a while, and you and the captain have chemistry together. Your auras align, and I'm sure he would want to continue exploring that with you.”

“Oh yeah? And what am I going to do?” you flail dramatically. Gesturing down to the bottom deck where Bartolomeo was gazing at you like a devotee up at his idol, you continued, “Go and say: ‘Alright pup, come and show me what a good boy you can be and follow some orders in my quarters’? Be real, Robin.”

“That's precisely what I'm saying,” she nodded at you, gesturing down to the base of the Thousand Sunny and shooing you with a soft flail of her hands, “Now off you go. Get your good boy.”

“Oh, fuck,” you whined, immediately feeling compelled to rise to your feet and leaving their company, “You're both so mean to me. I hope you're happy.”

“Not as happy as you're about to be-,” Nami snickered, only to be silenced by a scowl you sent towards her.

“I’m going to my quarters,” you growl at them both before taking a few steps towards the deck and peering down, “Let me have my fun.” Pursing your lips, you exhale a soft whistle to gather the attention of the cannibal on the surface below you. Clicking your tongue at him, you caught his eye and bobbed your head towards the hallway beneath the ship.

“That was always the plan, love,” Robin smiled at you. “We’ll make sure nobody bothers you until you're needed, which won't be for a while, will it, Nami?”

“Nope. Weather is perfect, and land isn't in sight for about four hours or so,” she nodded at you, “Go get that big puppy to learn some tricks. He looks like he'd be an animal in bed, and with a title like ‘cannibal’, you just know he eats well.”

With another exasperated sigh, you fled to the bottom deck towards the corridor where Bartolomeo was waiting for you. He was antsy, rocking on the balls and heels of his feet while avoiding your eye contact. Gently reaching towards the larger man, you flick at his chin to raise his eye line to your face.

“Does the offer still stand about being a good boy for me?” you tilt your head and dart your eyes between his. You hoped the tension you felt earlier was not unrequited, your pussy already beginning to gather a wave of arousal at your slit.

“Anything you want me to be,” he confirmed in a repetition of his earlier sentiment, biting his lip and gazing innocently up through his eyelashes at you. “Let me be your little pet. Collar me, leash me. I'm yours.”

A soft whine caught itself in your nasal, guts clenching in thick knots at his admission. Reaching forward, you take him by the hand and begin leading him towards your room.

Opening the door, he has a moment to take in the most hidden and intimate look at his second favorite Straw-Hat after Luffy.

The scent, the colors, the presence: the you. Everything was you, and he needed to commit each crevasse to memory in case you asked him to leave. While he was distracted, you reached below your bed and found your hidden lingerie collection and chose the items you thought he might enjoy.

While you would prefer to collar and leash him properly, give him a pretty name tag with your name on the inside of the material, you made do with an intricate slipknot to lovingly place over his neck made from a garter and a small length of rope used for bondage as a makeshift leash. Stripping yourself hastily from your clothes, exposed and completely bare, you finally turned and sat down at your desk and hooked one knee over the other.

He took another look at your bed before he finally turned away to view what you were doing with the rope. Turning towards you, his eyes grew so wide he felt they might flee from their sockets and roll onto the wooden floorboards.

“Well, don't just stand there gawking,” you rolled your eyes and revealed the little collar and leash, “Come here and let me put this on you.”

“Hhhgnm-...” Bartolomeo whined for you, dropping to his knees and wriggling along the floor while humbling himself before you. Once at your ankles, you leaned forward, giving him an eyeful of your exposed breasts and pebbled nipples as you drew the garter over his neck. Tugging on the leash, he played along to your motion and fell into your shin.

“Gonna be a good puppy and get a treat?” you tilted your head, gently parting your thighs and removing your knee from its place laced with your other, “Show me how much of a good listener you are?”

Bartolomeo felt as if he had ascended to another plane. A Straw Hat was giving him a behind the scenes tour of their quarters, and inviting him to be blessed with the opportunity of making them cum. He felt like his heart could explode, his panting breath picking up in intensity as he almost hyperventilated in glee.

“Barto…?” you softly checked in with him, “Is this too much? Would you like me to tone it do- OH FUCK-!!”

Barely giving you a moment to expel the words of concern, Bartolomeo surged forward and began nuzzling and whining against your cunt. His lips were pursed as he kissed every inch of skin greedily, tongue darting out to flicker at your crotch and taste your skin.

“Barto, w-wait-!” you attempted to reign him in, tugging the stretchy collar and trying to pry him away from your exposed area. In lieu of pulling him back, your grip on the collar only made him want to try harder to lick and suck your skin. Just as you pulled once more to pry him away, Bartolomeo managed to flick his tongue over your clit which had you cry out for him.

“Oh, fuck-!” you hissed down at him, “Barto, please make me cum?” You hooked your thighs over his shoulders, trapping his head between your thighs and angling his larger head to get a better angle on your entire pussy.

With one hand on the leash, you drew down your other and gripped his green hair while bucking up into his face.

“More on my clit please, pup,” you directed him, grinding your pussy against his eager smile. He immediately drew his lips up and circled your clit with a soft purse. Messily sucking on your clit, he parted his lips and kept the top lip rubbing the small bud while his tongue flicked and slithered against your slit.

“Mmm-! Fuck, good pup,” you whined, contorting your face in a pleasured scrunch and grinding into his lips. “Good listening. K-Keep going.”

Bartolomeo’s eyes never left your face, mapping and committing each motion to memory and whining into your pussy. His cock felt painfully hard beneath his pants. Already dampening the crotch of his patterned material, precum leaked from his small slit at the top of his cock at each small utterance of praise.

“There you go, good pup,” you keened for him. Your pussy was so wet, and with the additional combination of Bartolomeo's enthusiasm, you felt your ecstasy building rather quickly. It had been so long since you had a moment alone to think for yourself, let alone touch yourself, and it was beginning to show with how needily you groaned and whined for Bartolomeo.

“Mm, keep going. S-So close, puppy,” you praised him. Your grip grew firmer on the leash, fistfuls of green hair now burning at each follicle in a way that had Barto rocking and humping his pants while consuming you vigorously. He loved each moment, and he knew he was going to cum untouched as soon as you exploded over his face.

“Oh, baby, you're gonna make me cum,” you whine, feeling neediness continuing to take over your motions. He hummed desperately into your pussy, hoping you like the vibration he adds to your experience. He lulled his tongue out lazily, and bobbed his head messily up and down, while paying attention to your clit and slit.

You could ask Bartolomeo to do anything, and he would do it no questions asked. He would fuck your asshole with his tongue if that's what you wanted, have you sit on his face and ride him if you preferred it. All that mattered to him was making you cum. He needed to make you cum like the way his body needed water.

“Mmmfphmmm-!!” Barto babbled enthusiastically into your pussy, swiping his tongue against you with a ‘plap, plap, plap’. While the language was incoherent, the message was the same.

‘Cum for me.’

The pit in your stomach tightened to a point you felt it could snap, prompting your pitch and praise to get both higher in frequency and pitch.

“Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck-! Barto, you're gonna make me c-cum-!! Oh, fuck. I'm cumming-!” You messily rode his face, holding onto the leash of your green-haired puppy while screaming for him. The world shattered like glass, your ecstasy cresting from your chest and swelling your bloodstream with pure bliss. Clear cum drooled out from your slit, Bartolomeo eagerly lapping it up while you chased your high.

As soon as you cried his name and warned him, he couldn't help it. Hot bursts of untouched release painted the insides of his pants and briefs as he muffled what sounded like your name into your pussy. Bucking wildly while sucking on your clit, he rode through his untouched high with his tip squished against his tight pants.

Coming back down from the crashing waves of bliss, you released the leash and his hair, peering down at him with a lazy glow illuminated in your skin.

“Good puppy,” you giggled at him, causing him to groan lovingly at the praise, “Lap it up, baby. Gotta get all cleaned up before I take that pretty cock you're hiding from me beneath those pants.”

Where Bartolomeo would usually say: “I don't think I can cum so soon, I just creamed my pants at the thought of you cumming in my face,” these were not usual circumstances. He was with his second favorite Straw-Hat, and he was not going to disappoint you.

However long you were willing to spend with him was a blessing from the gods, and he would be held at your mercy until you were ready to tell him to stop. You were a goddess to him, and he was a zealot to your altar.

“Good puppy,” you praised him, scrunching up your nose and cooing down at him. “Now get on the bed. Behave for me.”

“Yes mistress,” he whined at you, giving you needy kisses to the thighs and aiding you into his arms to bring you to the bed, “I'll keep being your good puppy for you. I can listen.”

You couldn't help the small whine that fled your throat, truly relishing in his complete and total submission to you. You then caught yourself wondering how much you could get away with by calling him your good boy. Would he let you peg him? Would he let you tie him down? Would he let you ride his face? Would he let you bite him? Would he let himself bite you with his sharp teeth if you asked him to?

All of those questions would find their answer over the next three hours of senseless and animalistic ravaging taking place on your mattress, followed by such sweet tenderness you had never known prior.

He was so sweet to you, and you praised your good puppy until you both fell asleep in the arms of one another.

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