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It had been a mere 4 days since you stopped taking a daily hormone pill to control your crippling period cramps. After all, it was near impossible to get a hold of the same medicines aboard a submarine that spent ninety percent of its time hundreds of meters below the ocean’s surface. As such, you exhausted the six-month supply of the tiny pills that you had brought with you when you joined the Heart Pirates, slowly counting down the days when you would inevitably run out.
You had discussed your waning pill count with Ikkaku on multiple occasions, and she relayed you with her own experiences in her teenage years.
“When I stopped taking hormone pills, my period lasted for, like, two weeks before it became regular again!” she had said, throwing her hands in the air in an exasperated display as she recounted her memories. “It sucked . My cramps were really bad, too, but they got a bit better overtime.”
You had assumed, due to very little knowledge otherwise, that your experience would be largely the same. It made sense in the few biology books you had studied during your downtime spent on the floor in the crew library. You would cease taking your daily pill, your hormones would fluctuate as your body adjusted to the lack of a steady balance, and eventually you would go back to living life as you did years before you began your regimen. You read up on a few additional side effects along with heavier and longer bouts of bleeding and increased amounts of bloating and general discomfort. Mostly changes in body mass and occasional reports of differing mental symptoms, which you had readied yourself for as your supply turned into a week's worth, and then down to a single pill, and then nothing at all.
You had Law, your sweet, awkward, broomstick of a boyfriend, to pull on his metaphorical physician’s coat and help you out when needed, as well. He told you, based on his own research (that he didn’t start until after you told him you were down to only two months left of pills), that he could administer remedies if you had bad cramp flare ups or serious, debilitating bleeding. He followed his reassurance with a tender kiss to your cheek as you smiled at him, thanking him for his generosity and understanding.
You swallowed your last pill 4 days ago. So far, none of the symptoms you had prepared yourself for had made themselves known. No bloating, no period (yet), no fluctuating mental state, no change in weight.
Instead, starting 24 hours after your first pill-less day, you were plagued with intense, irreparable horniness, which had now gone on for 3 entire days.
Three days. 72 hours of a persistent wetness between your thighs, a constant warmth fluttering deep within the recesses of your gut that had you clenching around nothing at all hours of the day. You were able to perform your work just fine, but every time Law would pass by you in the hallway, his fleeting touches would leave electric sparks through your boiler suit, his metal-tinged smell lingering in your nostrils more than usual, his golden irises etching themselves into your eyelids. You were acutely aware of the sensation of dampness increasing between your legs whenever he made contact with you, which was very, very often.
You and Law had fucked before. You fucked as often as you could, which, given your respective roles aboard a pirate submarine, was only about once a week, twice if you were lucky (and this was already more often than Law could’ve ever anticipated). You were no stranger to the primal want that made you salivate, endlessly craving the calloused touch of your boyfriend’s lanky fingers against your hips.
But this, the unabashed depravity that started after you stopped your hormone pills, was on a completely different level. Each day seemed to get worse, more unbearable. It was as if your body was screaming at you to pursue your lover and beg him to dick you as deep into his mattress as he possibly could. The mere thought made your face flush with blood. During the times where you were left alone in Law’s bed while he was out being a captain, you tried to tend to your needs with your fingers. You managed once to make yourself cum three times in a row without feeling any sense of relief. Post-orgasm euphoria would instantly be replaced with more intense lust and longing, leaving you frustrated and bewildered.
Had you told him about this? No, of course not. Had he asked you about your condition in the days following your cessation? Yes, multiple times. He was constantly pleased with your content, “I feel great!” responses, and didn’t press the issue further, knowing you would come to him if you started to feel discomfort.
But this was a ‘discomfort’ that made your pride as a pirate, as a strong, semi-independent woman, waver ever so slightly. Simply because you weren’t really keen to beg like a pathetic animal in heat. (That had only happened once in the bedroom between you and your stone-cold captain-turned-boyfriend, and not only had the words that left your mouth embarrass you to a previously unknown degree, but they left Law feeling unbelievably awkward. The two of you ended up not having sex and instead simply falling asleep.)
Unbeknownst to you, however, your inner, wet, sweaty turmoil started to be noticed by the crew due to your wavering performance. You were spacing out far more than usual, keeping your head bowed consistently, contrasting your former upbeat, hardworking, and friendly personality. Multiple times, fingers had to be snapped in your face to grab your attention from the clutches of daydreams that had your eyes glazed over.
And what the crew picked up on, Law would pick up on, if he didn’t notice it first.
Four days. Four days of this.
Your watch shift had ended for the day, allowing you to retreat to the captain’s quarters that you shared with Law, shedding your boiler suit for comfortable loungewear, excited to get off your feet and relax in bed with a book you had started in an attempt to distract your mind from your perverted thoughts. You had just barely opened the page before the heavy steel door opened, revealing your boyfriend to you as he stepped into the room, closing and locking the hatch behind him.
“Are you okay?” he asked, plainly. His face showed no expression, which was usual, but the aura he radiated sent a nervous chill down your spine. It was somewhere along the tightrope between concerned and mildly frustrated.
“Yeah, why?” you responded, a fleeting attempt to match his energy. You tucked your knees to your chest as the taller man approached the bed, flopping onto it and sitting cross-legged before you.
“It seems like you’ve been a lot more spacy these past few days. Some of the crew told me it appeared that your work has been lacking, and I was wondering if it had something to do with your pill withdrawal.”
You bit the inside of your bottom lip, anxiously digging through your scrambled thoughts for a proper answer. Before you had a chance to respond, however, Law continued speaking.
“If you’re feeling any signs of negative mental health, I want you to tell me right away. I’m being serious, any signs of depression, anxiety, intense stress, nightmares–”
“I’m not depressed, Law, I promise,” you reassured. This wasn’t a lie, you really weren’t depressed. You were slightly anxious, yes, and definitely stressed due to the constant feeling of a throbbing pulse within your clit every single time you sat down, but you weren’t depressed.
“Something is clearly bothering you, though. I’m here to help you.”
His affirmations once again made you falter. Your eyes stayed glued to his, afraid to look anywhere else.
“I…” you began, voice low and wispy. “I don’t really know how to say it…”
Your response made Law’s eyebrows cock in confusion. “Say… what?”
You finally discarded your book to the side table, leaving your empty hands to fidget with each other. “Uhm… what’s been bothering me.”
“Is it something that I can help you with, or is it something that you feel you have to manage on your own?”
Curse Law’s analytical prowess. Sometimes you wished his rare moments of being a dorky airhead were more common, especially in situations like this. Swallowing your pride, you replied, “The first one, I hope.”
“You hope?”
“ Law …” you grumbled, dropping your head into your curled legs so that your forehead rested on your kneecaps. It really shouldn’t have been a hard conversation, you knew Law would understand. But the four consecutive days of nonstop horny fantasy and masturbation sessions that only left you more desperate had officially started to melt your neurons into mush.
“Can you please tell me? At least so I know that you’re not in pain?” Law kept his voice low and calm, but his face clearly gave away his profound concern for your sorry state.
You drew in a deep, shaky inhale. Refusing to lift your head to meet his eyes, you finally swallowed your pride and revealed the truth. “I’ve been hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life for the past four days.”
Your confession was not at all what Law was anticipating, judging by his prolonged silence. You slowly lifted your head, apprehensively searching for his eyes, which, when you found them, were slightly widened. The tip of his straight nose was flushed a rosy pink color.
“Ohhh,” was all he said in response to your confession.
This didn’t instill much confidence in you. With a dry chuckle, you quipped back, “That’s all you’re gonna say?”
Law rapidly backpedaled, shaking his head frantically. “No, of course not. Your behavior just makes… a lot more sense now.”
Uncomfortable silence filled the space around the two of you. You could almost see the gears working in Law’s head as he struggled to figure out how exactly he could best help you with your situation, without outright saying it. It didn’t matter how many times the two of you connected between his sheets, the simple word ‘sex’ left Law flustered and fidgeting like an innocent schoolboy.
“Is there…” he began, voice low. “Anything you want me to do?”
“Do you want my honest answer?” you asked back.
The staring contest you were currently partaking in had both of your hearts beating a mile a minute. He simply gave you a curt nod as a reply to your question.
You lowered your knees from your chest slightly, still keeping your arms wrapped around your legs. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t stand anymore.”
“Damn.”
“You said you wanted my honest answer!” you cried out. You loved your boyfriend more than anything in this world, but his awkward, stubborn demeanor would really get on your nerves in the wrong circumstances, such as this very moment.
“I know, I know,” he reassured. He bowed his head away from yours, hiding his eyes under the brim of his hat. “I just… didn’t expect that.”
“In my defense, I told you I’ve been painfully horny.”
Law pinched the bridge of his nose, once again repeating an exasperated, “I know.”
You lowered your legs further, keeping your hands on your kneecaps as you hunched your shoulders forward. “Can you please help me? Please?” Your voice was low, airy, almost coming out as a whimper. “It’s been four days, Law. Everything I try to make myself feel better makes me more and more uncomfortable.”
Your tone really did sound desperate, and Law’s chest clenched at your demeanor. He glanced back up at your face, your eyebrows scrunched in an odd agony. He could almost feel the burning of your face from where he sat. Out of all the withdrawal symptoms the two of you had discussed before your medication ran out, this was the last one that he would’ve expected, and clearly that was the same for you.
“I’ll see what I can do to help,” he uttered.
“You don’t need to ‘see’ anything, Law, I need your dick in me. Right now. You know I don’t like begging, you have no idea how embarrassed I feel, but I’m desperate, Law, I’m desperate!” You were pleading with him now, officially losing your grip on yourself as you began to crawl towards him, placing your hand on his thigh and pushing yourself forward to bury your face in the junction between his neck and shoulder. “I would rather be depressed.”
A dry chuckle from his throat broke the awkward, stifling atmosphere. “Don’t say that, I don’t want you to be depressed.” He rested his arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. It almost didn’t register how you were beginning to straddle his waist, your fluttering breaths ghosting over his jugular.
You let out a pathetic whimper, both of your arms now dangled over his shoulders as your hips slotted against his, an uncomfortable position on the bed for both of you, but you were clearly out of your mind as you searched for any semblance of friction to satiate the red-hot need in your core. Your muscles gyrated on their own, a weary moan leaving your lips, hoping to use the stiffness of his jeans to stimulate your clit from under your loungewear.
Law truly felt bad for your beaten state, and with your body pressed against his, he could feel just how flustered you really were. With a tender kiss against the shell of your ear, he pushed you back onto the bed, swiftly removing your pajama bottoms and underwear. A deep crimson blush spread across his tanned cheeks at the sight of you, a persistent, heavy, glistening moistness coating your labia.
“You weren’t kidding,” was all he muttered.
“You thought I’d make this up?!” you pleaded.
“No, of course not.” He rubbed a calloused hand across your cheek, smiling sweetly as you turned your face to nestle into his touch. “I’m just sorry it’s been so bad.”
“Apologize with your body. Please. Don’t make me keep begging, Law, I can’t take it anymore.”
Somewhere deep inside the stoic captain’s mind was a perverted beast that quite enjoyed the sight of you practically weeping and writhing under him as your body subconsciously demanded any stimulation as soon as possible. A sadistic side of him wanted to keep you begging, wanted to break you until you sobbed into his chest, losing your humanity to your instinctual, hormonal urges.
But he loved you too much for that, at least in your current worked-up state. He didn’t want to prolong your suffering.
Without wasting any more time as you lay completely vulnerable and demanding beneath him, he took his hand and trailed two fingers through your folds, stifling a sharp breath at just how wet you really were. Sticky yet thin and fluid, your sweet, musky scent traveled to his nose and made his stomach clench. He bit back any other witty comments that sat on his tongue and instead slipped his middle finger into your cunt, using his thumb to stimulate your clit simultaneously. Your hands flew to cover your mouth, your eyes clenched shut as you involuntarily bucked into his hand, encouraging him to slip a second finger into you to increase the sensation.
“Law,” you moaned out. One of your hands grabbed his wrist, stopping his movements. He gazed at you, waiting for your next move. “I’ve been doing that to myself and nothing’s worked. I need you .”
The raven-haired man bit the inside of his cheek at your words. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt, haphazardly wiping your fluids on his jeans as he reached for his fly and tugged on the zipper, the metal button following suit. He slipped off the bed to let his pants and boxers fall to the floor before discarding his shirt. You salivated at the sight of him (you felt truly helpless in your hormonal, sex-crazed state). You tugged your own t-shirt over your head and threw it to the floor beneath the bed. Law once again positioned himself above you, an inked hand idly stroking his half-hard penis as he surveyed your pitiful form below him, sprawled out, legs spread, mouth hung open as you took in shallow breaths. He rubbed the head of his penis along your sopping pussy, rubbing your slick down his length with his hand.
“I’m gonna be honest,” he muttered, reveling in the scorching heat that traveled to his groin as his cock filled with blood. “I didn’t think it was possible for a woman to be this wet.”
“How do you think I feel?” you quipped back, your mouth curling into a meager grin. “I’ve been constantly wondering if I pissed my pants without realizing.”
Your words made a bark of laughter exit Law’s mouth, which eased your stress and made your own chest feel lighter. He continued stroking your fluid over his dick as he responded, “This isn’t going to help you, I don’t think.”
You reached a hand forward and trailed it along his shoulder, tracing his tattoo in the process. “I can’t even care anymore, really.”
Law supported himself above you with one hand, dipping down to plant a sweet kiss against your lips. You pushed yourself up on your elbows to deepen the exchange, parting your mouth and brushing your tongue along his lower lip. Instead of opening for you, he pulled back with a mischievous grin.
“You’re already begging for this, you’re gonna have to wait for whatever sloppy kisses you want.”
“You’re an asshole,” you retorted, but shuddered out a sigh at the feeling of Law’s dick parting your labia and slipping into your opening little by little. The excess wetness produced by your own body made the ordeal much easier, which also made it much easier for Law to tease you in his own, stubborn way, finally looking past the awkwardness of your hormone-driven desperation. He removed the tip of his cock from your entrance, making you grumble under your breath. “You said before you would do anything to make sure I’m okay!”
“Well, you’re not in pain,” he responded, voice low and rough. The sound made your hair stand on end. “Since you’re not in pain, I feel a bit better…” he interrupted his sentence with another tease of his tip at your warm pussy, “driving you mad.”
You groaned. “What do I have to do to convince you to just rail me already?”
Your man smirked above you. “You’re getting bold with your language, sweetheart.”
Your shaking hands gripped his shoulder blades as you scooted yourself down the mattress in a feeble attempt to get his cock inside you on your own. Law merely chuckled, dipping his head into the crevice of your neck, leaving sweet kisses over your soft skin before using his hand to aid his dick in entering you completely, biting down on your skin at the same time. The doubled sensations made you wail involuntarily, one of your own hands slapping over your mouth to muffle your desperate noises as your eyes squeezed shut. Law sucked on the bite he made, gyrating his hips at just the right spot where his public hair brushed against your aching clit. The hand that wasn’t covering your mouth raked down his back, making him shudder above you, detaching from your neck and licking his lips devilishly.
“Feel better?” he asked, voice completely casual as if he wasn’t balls deep inside you.
“I’d feel a lot better if you just–” He cut you off with a sharp thrust, the sound of wet skin slapping making hot embarrassment rush to your face.
“Just what?”
“What happened to, ‘I’ll see what I can do?’ Or, ‘I’m sorry it’s been so bad?’” you asked with a quivering voice. “No more sympathy for your suffering girlfriend?”
“Of course I have sympathy for you, dear,” he replied, trailing the hand he had used to gather your slick on his fingers to rub down your cheek and neck, leaving a cold sensation behind. “But when you use words like ‘rail me’ and ‘fuck me until I can’t stand anymore’ it gets kinda hard to not torture you a little bit. Makes it more fun that way.”
You couldn’t fight the grin that crawled across your lips. “You’re a sick, sick man.”
“And you’re a desperate, relentless woman.”
Your conversation finally halted with another deep kiss from Law as his hips began a steady pace, stroking into your cunt with deep, powerful thrusts that were as slow yet impactful and left your toes curling. Law, despite all his uncoordinated emotions, was very good on the backstroke. You didn’t quite know if it was simply the way his cock was shaped, or his physique, or perhaps his unintentional movements, but each thrust sent shivers down your spine and caused your back to arch into the growing flames brewing in the pit of your stomach. His lanky arms allowed him to support himself while angling his thrusts to also brush along your clit, aiding in your euphoria. The mixture of the head of his penis constantly brushing against your upper wall and his coarse pubic hair and firm torso stimulating your clit was addictive and made your legs quiver. (If you ever told Law that he was, in your eyes, a ‘Sex God,’ however, he’d avoid making eye contact with you for at least a week out of sheer humiliation. You had to keep some things to your deranged imagination.)
Amidst Law’s movements above you, you angled your hips upwards and wrapped your legs around his waist, keeping his thrusts deep and deliberate. Your attempts to keep your sounds to a minimum were futile when Law hooked his hands around the backs of your knees, removing your legs from his body and holding them up in the air. Your body curled for him and he kneeled above you, still fully inserted. The new angle was deeper than before and had your eyes glued shut, mouth hung open and lewd sounds escaping your lungs with every shuddering breath. You held your legs in the air while one of Law’s inked hands traveled downward to your clit, resuming ministrations on your swollen nub that this new position didn’t quite provide.
Law wouldn’t admit it, but the absolutely depraved sounds of your wet pussy sucking in his dick with every thrust had him painfully erect inside of you. He was sure you could feel the way his cock twitched every now and then with the way your face would contort in immeasurable pleasure. Half of him was concerned that the soggy noises could be heard from outside the bedroom, either through the heavy steel hatch door or through the walls, but the other half of him was too focused on the electric shocks that sparked through his dick that craved for him to keep chasing his release.
Your own climax was rapidly approaching, Law’s thrusts growing slightly unsteady as his own impending release slowly creeped up on him. His calloused thumb rubbing counter-clockwise circles against your clit was the perfect stimulation you needed along with his perfect cock, and before you had time to suck in another deep gulp of oxygen, your body was convulsing around him, hips gyrating around him as you desperately moaned, still trying to stifle your noises. The squelching sound that emanated from between your bodies only seemed to increase after your orgasm, more fluid from your seemingly endless arousal making Law’s dick slip easier and easier through your tight folds. The feeling of your cunt clenching around him made his throat clench, swallowing tightly as a building pressure formed at the base of his dick. He felt it as deep as his vertebrae.
His calculated thumb never ceased its motions against your clit, staying consistent throughout your orgasm. Your fingers clenched the bed sheets beneath you as you pleaded with the man above you to slow down, that the pleasure from your clit was so good it was almost painful, but right as you began to release another moaning plead, a second orgasm washed over you, causing your muscles to rapidly convulse as your hips shook against his body.
“Fuck,” Law groaned out, his own bubble growing closer and closer to bursting with each of your gyrations.
“Law…” you heaved. “Please come inside me. Please, please. I need you to come inside of me.”
Law swallowed thickly, eyeing your trembling form beneath him. “Are you sure?” The implications were slightly more concerning considering this had all started after you stopped a controlled hormone pill. Getting you pregnant wouldn’t be ideal on a submarine, and there would definitely be a lot of discussion should that consequence happen, but at the same time…
He groaned. The feeling of your pussy keeping him glued to your body was too addicting to say no to. Law bit back his inhibitions and nodded his head. He could already tell his own orgasm was going to be one for the ages, your desperate horniness seeming to affect him as well. His hips were starting to stutter in their pace as his climax creeped up his spine and through his pelvis.
You covered your mouth as a sob left your throat, climaxing for a third time on the motions against your clit and G-spot. The involuntary gyrations of your hips finally did Law in. His hips snapped forward, dropping your legs to the bed and placing his hands on your lower stomach, pressing downward as he desperately rammed into you, moaning your name among a string of breathless curses as he released his cum inside your drenched pussy. You were in complete bliss, never having heard such noises leave Law’s mouth during any of your other intimate sessions. You didn’t think you’d be able to get off without his deep, gruff moans anymore.
Law finally stilled both his hand and his hips, leaving you twitching and completely fucked out below him. His aching cock slipped out of you as soon as he pulled away, leaving you both feeling cold and very aware of the crazy mess the two of you had made on his bed sheets.
“Shit…” Law groaned as he flopped backwards. His feet were up by your waist, while yours were still draped across his hips, both pairs of legs parted. The smell of sex permeated the air and you were positive you’d be able to smell it in the hallway if the door was opened.
You didn’t respond for a while, only heavy breaths entering and exiting your chest as you fought to catch up on air that had been violently forced out of you.
“Are you okay?” Law finally asked, barely having energy to pick up his head to gaze at you.
“Yeah… I’m fine. You?”
“Completely spent.”
You shared a breathless laugh that lingered in the air, a soft pink cloud above you.
“I feel disgusting now,” you finally said after some more moments of comfortable silence.
“Good disgusting or bad disgusting?” Law asked back.
“Good, I think,” you replied. “I don’t think I’ll be able to fuck for at least a month now, though.”
“You and me both.” Law finally mustered up the energy to sit himself up on his elbows. You did the same, though your arms were much more shaky than his. “Have I ever made you come three times before?”
“Never.”
Law pondered your response for a few seconds before flashing a roguish grin. “Damn, I’m good.”
“You can be prideful after you clean me up,” you groaned.
You wearily held your arm into the air, letting your hand flop back and forth as you waved. Law chuckled, tiredly swinging his legs off of the bed. He ignored your arm, instead choosing to scoop you up by your knees and shoulders, holding you close to his chest. Your head plopped onto his shoulder, eyes closed and breaths finally steady. Law gazed at the substantial wet patch that now tainted his white bed sheets, but kept his mouth shut. Maybe six months ago he would’ve been disgusted at the mess you two had made, but with you fucked out and blissful in his arms and his own body tingling with a hot pink sensation that he couldn’t get enough of, he didn’t think it was very important.
With a hushed whisper, a blue glow enveloped the two of you and a swift hand motion teleported you to the bathroom. Where, despite your fatigue, your sex only continued in the shower.