Chapter Text
The air in Dressrosa was thick with the stench of smoke, blood, and shattered stone. The island groaned under the weight of its own ruin, the aftermath of Doflamingo’s fall still pulsing through the streets like a dying heartbeat. Luffy tore through the wreckage, his bare feet slapping against cracked cobblestones as he sprinted toward the rooftop where he’d left Law.
Law.
The rooftop came into view, a jagged silhouette against the bruised purple sky. Law was there, slumped against a crumbled wall, his body a map of pain. His right arm, hastily reattached, lay limp at his side, useless. His left hand twitched weakly, clutching at nothing. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were glazed, unfocused, his breath shallow and uneven. He was a wreck, barely conscious, his body screaming for rest he wouldn’t get.
Luffy’s heart pounded, not with concern but with need. It roared in his ears, drowned out the world, narrowed his universe to the man crumpled before him. He didn’t slow as he reached the rooftop, didn’t hesitate. He dropped to his knees, the space around him pulsing with a quiet, ominous hum — like the sea before a storm. His hands shot forward, seizing Law by the shoulders.
The body beneath his grip was soft with weakness, trembling, heatless.
Law flinched. A quiet gasp tore from his throat — not fear, not resistance, just raw, involuntary pain. His head lolled back, neck too weak to support him. His mouth parted again, voice a faint ghost of sound.
“Mugiwara-ya…?”
He spoke like someone unsure if he was awake. As if even reality had begun to slip through his fingers. But Luffy didn’t answer. Words didn’t belong here. Not when Law looked like this — reduced, wrecked, and small in his hands.
He drank in the sight.
The sweat glistening on Law’s skin. The way his lashes fluttered like he couldn’t quite stay conscious. The helpless angle of his head. The fragility that clung to him like scent — raw and vulnerable and perfect.
Luffy’s fingers tightened, ignoring the jolt it sent through Law’s ruined body.
It didn’t matter.
He yanked him up, ignoring the way Law’s body almost gave beneath his grip like wet paper. A sharp, broken sound tore from his throat, pain blooming across his face in a flash of helpless clarity — but it barely registered. Luffy couldn’t care. Didn’t care. The thing inside him, wild and insatiable, had already taken over.
“Gotta move,” he muttered — low, hoarse, almost a growl vibrating in his chest.
He hoisted Law upright, half-dragging him toward the rooftop’s shattered stairs. Law’s feet barely remembered how to work. His knees buckled with every other step. His right arm hung like dead weight, swaying with each jolt. His left hand grasped weakly at Luffy’s shoulders, trying to steady himself, just to hold on, just to not fall.
Luffy didn’t slow.
The world became a smear — ruined homes, scorched stone, broken glass catching the last dregs of light. He didn’t think. He didn’t need to. His grip was iron, his pace merciless, guided only by instinct until he reached it: an abandoned husk of a house, forgotten in the wreckage, its roof slouched and its door ajar like a mouth too tired to close.
Inside, the air was thick — dust, decay, and something faintly coppery beneath it. The place had been torn apart, furniture overturned, shadows stretched long across the floor. But there — a bed. No sheets. No pillow. Just the frame and a naked mattress pressed against a cracked wall.
It was enough.
Luffy’s grip tightened on Law, his fingers digging into his biceps as he pulled him across the room like something claimed, something he already owned.
Traffy’s breath hitched, his voice a faint, confused rasp. “What… what’re you…?” the words trembled out of him like he didn’t recognize his own voice. He blinked up at Luffy, eyes hazy. But he was too weak for clarity, too far gone to make sense of anything.
Luffy didn’t answer. He pushed him down, hard, onto the bed. The mattress creaked under the impact, dust rising in a faint cloud. Law landed on his back, his cloak splaying open completely, his chest heaving as he tried to process what was happening. He looked up at Luffy, dazed — too confused to fight, too broken to get up.
Luffy climbed over him, straddling his hips with fluid, unhesitating motion. His knees sank into the mattress on either side, the bed dipping under his weight. The air thickened, electric with pressure, as if the space itself bowed to Luffy’s will. His presence filled the room — absolute, inescapable. His hands moved, pulled by that deep, gnawing hunger that had taken root the moment he first laid eyes on Law.
He leaned down, his lips crashing against Law’s neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Law flinched beneath him, a weak sound escaping him — small, helpless, confused. Luffy didn’t stop. He couldn’t. His mouth roamed lower, open and devouring, tasting salt, sweat, and the metallic tang of blood. Each inch of Law’s skin seemed to tremble under his touch.
Law’s left hand fluttered weakly against his shoulder, a pitiful motion, more reflex than resistance. There was no strength behind it.
“Mugiwa—” he breathed, barely audible, barely coherent. His voice cracked mid-syllable, slurred, like his mind was struggling to catch up with his body. “What— why…?”
His right arm lay useless, a dead weight at his side. He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. Luffy knew that his mind was a fog of pain and exhaustion, his body screaming at him to shut down, to escape into unconsciousness. But Luffy was there, a force of nature, undeniable, unstoppable.
Luffy’s hand found his left wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with bruising force. From his pocket, he pulled a small, cold object — a bracelet of kairōseki, its surface dull but heavy with power. The one left on a flower field and later found again. He snapped it onto Law’s wrist, ignoring his own quick wave of weakness that faded away the second his fingers stopped touching the surface, the click of the clasp loud in the quiet room.
Law shuddered. His breath hitched, then stuttered again. His entire body slackened in response, as the kairōseki’s effect hit, draining what little strength he had left. His devil fruit was useless now, his body pinned under Luffy’s weight, his mind too fractured to fight back. Luffy felt the moment it truly hit — Law’s pulse fluttering beneath the skin, his muscles loosening all at once.
Luffy’s grip tightened, his thumb pressing against the skin near the metal just a fraction not to touch as he shoved Law’s wrist down, pinning it to the bed beside his head. Law’s arm bent at the elbow, his hand limp, his fingers twitching faintly. Luffy’s other hand roamed, sliding across Law’s skin so beautifully bare for him thanks to his open cloak, tracing the lines of his tattoos, the ridges of his ribs, the taut skin of his abdomen. He followed with his mouth, trailing kisses and bites down the length of Law’s torso, each one blooming red against his skin.
Law’s voice broke again, a thin whisper that barely held shape. “Stop… Mu… what’s… happening…?” His words melted away, fractured, uncertain — as if even he couldn’t make sense of the moment.
Luffy didn’t stop. He couldn’t. The ache in him, the want that had festered for so long, had turned into something raw, insatiable. Every battle, every fleeting glance, every moment shared with Law had fueled it, built it into a need that had become his very pulse.
His crew knew, had always known. They’d seen the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke Law’s name. They didn’t judge him for it. They encouraged it. Zoro had once clapped him on the shoulder, muttering, “Go get him, Captain.” Sanji had teased him with a grin, saying, “Don’t screw it up, dumbass.” Nami had rolled her eyes but smiled as she told him to “Just do it already.” They were his family, the only family that mattered, and they wanted him happy — even if it meant his happiness came with teeth, claws, and a darkness he couldn’t hide.
Law didn’t know. Not yet. Maybe somewhere deep inside, he felt it — the pull between them, tangled beneath the layers of pain and confusion. Maybe it was something that could have bloomed into understanding, had he been given time. Time to think. Time to process. Time to feel. But Luffy wasn’t offering him that. Law was his, had always been his, and in this broken, crumbling room, on this ruined bed, Luffy was finally taking what he’d longed for, what he had waited far too long to claim.
His lips found the curve of Law’s collarbone, teeth scraping against the bone, pulling a soft, broken whimper from the man beneath him. Law’s head tilted back, his throat exposed like a helpless offering, his eyes heavy, unfocused, lost. He was beautiful like this, Luffy thought, in a way that made his chest ache and his blood burn hotter. So vulnerable, so broken — and yet, so utterly his.
The room felt suffocating, the air thick with sweat, blood, and something darker — something that clung to Luffy like a second skin, something that belonged to him alone. His shirt slid off one shoulder, slipping loosely as he pressed closer, his chest against Law’s, grinding against him with a force that sent shocks through his veins. Law’s voice, faint and barely above a whisper, came broken and confused, a wordless plea or protest — Luffy couldn’t tell, and he didn’t care to. He only heard the roar of his own need, the hunger that drowned everything else out.
The bed creaked beneath them, the rhythm of the broken springs mirroring the erratic pulse of Luffy’s heart. The energy swirling around him pulsed thicker now, a living shadow that clung to his skin, amplifying every sensation, every thought, every jagged edge of desire that had been festering inside him for so long. Law lay beneath him, pinned, trembling, his body weak and unresisting, as though his soul was teetering between the terror of the unknown and the exhaustion of everything that had brought him here. His chest rose and fell in shallow, pained breaths, his eyes clouded with confusion, struggling to understand.
He was fragile, so fragile, Luffy thought, his mind momentarily flickering with something almost tender. Law’s body was like fine porcelain — cracked but not yet shattered, a delicate thing teetering on the edge of breaking. And Luffy reveled in it, in the power he held, in the raw vulnerability laid bare beneath him, unable to look away.
Mine.
Luffy’s want felt like an open wound, a scar etched deep into his soul the moment he’d first laid eyes on Law. He couldn’t pinpoint it, not back then, but it had been there, the crackling tension between them from the very first time they crossed paths. Back in Sabaody, maybe, when Law had stood tall, sharp and dangerous, his smirk cutting like a blade, his voice cool, indifferent. Or on Punk Hazard, when the air had been freezing, but Law’s presence burned hot like an unspoken promise, his calculating gaze locking onto Luffy’s reckless grin like a challenge. Luffy hadn’t understood it — hadn’t known what to call it, that heat that curled in his gut every time Law spoke, moved, existed. But it was there, raw and undeniable, a pull that grew stronger with every clash, every tentative alliance, every stolen glance. Law was a puzzle to him, a storm, a flame — and Luffy wanted to break him open, to swallow him whole.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” his voice came rough, raw from the weight of time spent choking on the need to say it. The words spilled out unfiltered, unstoppable. His hands roamed over Law’s bare chest, fingers digging into the taut muscles, tracing the ink of his tattoos — the heart, the lines, the story written into the very skin he wanted to claim. “Always were. Too pretty for your own good, Traffy.”
His lips followed the path of his hands, pressing hard against Law’s chest, the taste of salt and blood lingering on his tongue. Law’s skin was deceptively soft, delicate despite the hardened scars, the muscle, the evidence of a life lived on the edge, fighting just to survive. Luffy’s teeth grazed a nipple, pulling a sharp gasp from Law, whose body jerked weakly, instinctively, as though trying to pull away. But there was no escape. Not with Luffy’s weight pinning him down, not with the kairōseki sapping the last remnants of his strength.
Law’s right arm lay limp, useless, the stitches stark against his skin, a reminder of how close he’d come to losing it completely. His left hand, trapped in Luffy’s unforgiving grip, twitched, the fingers curling faintly as though trying to push back, to resist. Luffy saw it — the way Law’s body screamed to fight, to escape, but his mind was too clouded, too fractured, drowned in shock and exhaustion. His body, fragile and broken, had no strength to oppose what was happening.
Law’s golden eyes were wide, lost in a haze of confusion and fear, desperately searching Luffy’s face for answers that weren’t coming. He was helpless. He was helpless. And Luffy reveled in the way it made him feel. Powerful. In control.
“Mugiwara-ya…” Law’s voice came out cracked, barely a whisper, tinged with pain and something deeper. Fear, disbelief. “Why… what’re you…?”
Luffy didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. His mouth moved lower, tongue tracing the taut lines of Law’s stomach, dipping into the hollows of his ribs, tasting the sharp sweat mingled with the faint, iron taste of blood. Law’s body trembled, fragile and unguarded, a shudder that betrayed the confusion coursing through him. It was so weak, so delicate—his response nothing more than a flicker of vulnerability, and Luffy reveled in it. He wanted to see Law unravel, wanted him to feel the pressure of it, to drown in the heat and chaos and maddness Luffy was determined to drown him in.
His hands tightened around Law’s sides, fingers digging into the soft flesh, bruising, marking, claiming. "So soft," Luffy murmured, almost as if to himself, his voice low, reverent, fixated. "Didn’t think you’d be this soft, Traffy. Always so sharp, so cold... But look at you now."
Law’s breath hitched, his chest rising and falling unevenly, his eyes squeezing shut as if he could block out the reality of what was happening, block out the heat of Luffy’s mouth, the force of his touch, the heavy weight of his need pressing against him. But Luffy didn’t care. Luffy didn’t stop. He only pressed harder, lips trailing along the sharp line of Law’s collarbone, his teeth grazing, biting down — hard enough to mark, hard enough to claim.
Law’s soft whimper broke through, a wrecked sound, raw and pitiful, so quiet, so vulnerable it sent a pulse of dark heat rushing through Luffy. It stoked the fire within him, a wave of savage possessiveness. His mouth found the curve of Law’s neck, kissing, biting, sucking on the pulse beneath, feeling Law’s heartbeat, frantic and alive.
“You’re mine,” Luffy said, the words a growl against Law’s throat. “Always wanted you. Always knew you’d be mine.”
His hand tightened on Law’s left wrist, the kairōseki bracelet biting into the skin, pinning it harder against the mattress. Law’s arm bent awkwardly, his hand limp beside his head, the fingers twitching in a weak, futile gesture. Luffy’s other hand slid down, grabbing Law’s hip, yanking him closer, grinding their bodies together. The friction was electric, a spark that set Luffy’s blood on fire, made his breath come in short, ragged bursts. Law’s jeans were in the way, but Luffy didn’t care — not yet. He wanted to savor this, to drag it out, to make Law feel every second of it.
Law’s body jerked again, a weak attempt at resistance, his legs shifting as if to push Luffy off. But he was too broken, too drained, the kairōseki and the shock holding him captive. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, staring up at Luffy with a mixture of pain and confusion so raw, so vulnerable, it made something twist deep in Luffy’s chest. He didn’t want Law to understand—not yet. He wanted him to feel it all, to break, to melt into the heat until there was nothing left but surrender. Luffy’s hand slid from Law’s hip down to his thigh, fingers digging into the soft muscle, forcing his legs apart, exposing him.
Law gasped, his voice barely a whisper, “No… Mugi—” but the words were swallowed by the weight of Luffy’s body pressing against him, the relentless grind of Luffy’s hips.
Luffy’s mouth was back on his chest, lips tracing, sucking, biting at the skin, marking it with red bruises. He wanted to taste every inch, to memorize how Law trembled, how his breath hitched, how his body fought and failed to resist.
“So perfect,” Luffy murmured, lips brushing against a tattoo, his tongue tracing the design with a possessive hunger. “Knew you’d be like this. Knew it back on Punk Hazard, when you looked at me like I was crazy. Wanted to grab you then, pin you down, make you mine.”
His voice was rough, unfiltered, the thoughts spilling out in a torrent as his hands roamed, grabbing, squeezing, claiming every part of Law he could reach.
Law’s head tilted back, his throat exposed, lips parted in gasping breaths, each one a struggle for air. His right arm twitched, the fingers curling slightly, but it was useless — just a ghost of movement, a desperate effort with no strength behind it. His left wrist flexed under Luffy’s grip, the kairōseki bracelet a cold, unyielding weight right near his fingers. Law’s eyes fluttered, a spark of something — panic, maybe — flashing in their depths, but his body was too weak to follow through, too shattered to fight. He was lost, drowning in the storm of Luffy’s desire, and Luffy couldn’t get enough of it. Every inch of Law’s weakness, every trembling breath, every flicker of confusion in those eyes fed the dark hunger inside Luffy, and he wanted more — more of Law’s fragility, more of the control he held over him, more of the way Law’s brokenness only made him want to possess him further.
Luffy's hands were everywhere, rough, demanding — gripping at Law’s chest, his hips, his thighs, pulling, tugging, marking him. He yanked his thighs apart, settling between them, his body pressing down, grinding harder, faster. The friction was maddening, a wave of heat building with every motion, pushing Luffy closer to the edge, but never enough. He wanted more — needed more. He needed to break Law, to watch him unravel completely beneath him, to feel him lose himself, just like this.
His lips found the line of Law’s jaw, teeth grazing, breath ragged and uneven as he moved lower, tasting the fragile vulnerability in each tremor. “You’re gonna feel this,” voice low, hungry. “Gonna make you feel me.”
Law’s voice cracked, a faint, “Stop… please…” but it was weak, barely a whisper, lost in the haze of Luffy’s hunger.
His body trembled, his chest heaving, his skin slick with sweat and the faint smear of blood from his wounds. He was beautiful like this, Luffy thought, in a way that made his chest ache and his blood burn. Broken, vulnerable, his. Luffy’s lips crashed against the pulse point, sucking hard, leaving a bruise that would linger for days. Law whimpered again, the sound sharp, raw, desperate that made Luffy’s blood burn in response. His beast roared within, demanding more, always more.
Law’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused, staring at the cracked ceiling as though he could escape into it. His lips moved, forming words that never came, his voice too weak, too broken to make any sound. His left wrist flexed again, a faint, desperate attempt to break free, but Luffy’s grip was unyielding, iron-clad, the kairōseki bracelet a cold, merciless anchor holding him in place. Law was trapped, pinned beneath Luffy’s overwhelming presence, his body a canvas for Luffy’s hunger, his mind a shattered thing, unable to catch up. Luffy’s hands roamed relentlessly, rough and unforgiving, grabbing, squeezing, claiming every inch of Law’s skin he could touch, marking him with every movement. His lips followed in a trail of fevered desire, licking, biting, tasting, leaving trails across Law’s chest, his stomach, his throat — each mark a brand, each touch a testament to Luffy’s insatiable need.
The energy pulsed around them, a living thing that fed on Luffy’s hunger, made the air thick, heavy, suffocating. Law’s body trembled, his breaths shallow, uneven, his skin fever-hot under Luffy’s touch. He was fragile, lost, a man caught in a storm he couldn’t fight, and Luffy’s beast reveled in it, wanted to push him further, to break him completely. The grind of his hips was relentless, a rhythm that matched the roar of his blood, the pulse of his need.
His teeth grazed Law’s earlobe, biting down just hard enough to draw a faint, broken whimper from him — a sound that sent a jolt of fire through Luffy’s veins, made the beast inside him roar louder in response. Law’s body jerked, an instinctive, weak attempt to pull away, but there was no strength behind it, no will. Only surrender.
The room was a haze of heat and shadow, the world outside forgotten, burned away by the fire in Luffy’s veins. There was only Law, trembling and beautiful beneath him, and the beast that demanded everything. Luffy’s hands, his lips, his body — they moved with a single purpose, a need greater than him, greater than reason, greater than anything but the raw, animal truth of what he craved.
Law’s faint voice barely cut through the thick haze between them — fractured, broken, a desperate attempt to reach him.
“Stop… I don’t…” The words stumbled out, slurred and trembling, like his breath — shallow, irregular, catching in his throat as Luffy’s teeth grazed his collarbone. The contact made Law twitch, a soft, involuntary flinch, as if even that pressure was too much for him now. “Please… don’t want this…”
His body gave a weak jolt beneath Luffy’s — not defiant, not powerful. Just a reflex, the last flicker of fight from someone already spent. His limbs trembled uselessly, too drained to push, too slow to resist. Luffy didn’t even need to hold him down. His weight alone was enough to pin him, to keep him right where he wanted.
Luffy’s lips curled into a smile, soft and almost tender, but beneath that calm was something far more primal, far more certain. Law didn’t understand — not yet. But Luffy did. He knew Law didn’t mean it — not really.
Traffy liked him, deep down, even if he didn’t know it yet. There had been signs. Luffy remembered them all. The way Law’s eyes would linger, just a heartbeat too long. The hesitation in his breath when their fingers brushed. The way his voice would dip, not quite soft, but not sharp either, whenever he said Luffy’s name. Traffy was confused, that was all. Scared, maybe, because this was new, because Luffy was showing him something he’d never dared to feel. But Luffy would teach him. He’d show him how good it could be, how right.
“You’ll get it, Traffy,” Luffy whispered, his voice low, coaxing, as he brushed his lips along the line of Law’s jaw. “You’re just scared. It’s okay. I’ll help you understand.”
Law’s head shook weakly, his eyes squeezing shut as if he could block out the reality of Luffy’s hands, Luffy’s mouth, Luffy’s need.
“No… Mugiwara-ya… I don’t…” he tried again, but his voice caught, broke. a plea that dissolved into a faint whimper as Luffy’s tongue traced over his chest, lingering on the slick warmth of sweat and the faint sting of blood, on the soft skin that trembled under his touch.
Luffy’s hand slid lower, fingers brushing against the waistband of Law’s spotted jeans, then dipping beneath, seeking, exploring. Law flinched violently, hips jerking away in a raw recoil, instinctive attempt to pull away, his thighs tensing as if to close, to protect himself — just pure panic. But Luffy was faster, stronger, his body pressing down harder, his knees forcing Law’s legs even wider, pinning him open. His hand found what he was looking for, cupping Law through the fabric, feeling the lack of response, the absence of arousal.
Luffy paused, his brow furrowing for the briefest moment. Something like frustration sparked, sharp and unwelcome in his chest. Why wasn’t Traffy responding? Why wasn’t his body catching up to what Luffy already knew — what he felt between them? But the flicker of doubt passed just as quickly as it came. Of course, Law wasn’t there yet. He was still stuck in his head, overwhelmed, shut down by fear and everything else. He didn’t even realize Luffy was trying to free him.
He just needed time.
“You’re so stubborn,” Luffy said, his voice a mix of amusement and hunger, his lips brushing against Law’s throat as his hand tightened, rubbing over him with deliberate rhythm, coaxing something — anything — from the unresponsive flesh beneath the cloth.. “Always fighting, Traffy. But you don’t gotta fight this. I know you want me. You just don’t know it yet.”
Beneath him, Law’s breath hitched — no words now, just a low, helpless sound caught in his throat. His body was trembling, legs twitching faintly against Luffy’s hold, but there was no strength in the movement. He couldn’t resist anymore — not truly. Not when his mind was already slipping, caught somewhere between fear and submission, trapped in the space Luffy had carved out for him.
He was lost.
And Luffy would be the one to guide him back — on his terms.
Luffy’s thumb pressed harder — slow, purposeful — and the effect was immediate. Law gasped, a sound raw and strangled, his hips twitching as if caught in a short-circuit between instinct and fear. The reaction wasn’t desire. It was a jolt, a helpless shudder, his body betraying him under pressure he couldn’t process.
Luffy’s smile deepened, curling at the corners with a dark, gleaming satisfaction. His eyes drank in every stutter of Law’s breath, every flicker of resistance that faltered before it even began. There was something intoxicating about it — the way Law’s body still tried to fight, even when it was clear it couldn’t. The way his voice cracked and broke. The way he lay beneath Luffy, trembling and silenced, his pride undone.
He was his.
Law’s breathing grew ragged, each inhale stuttering as if his lungs couldn’t keep up with the collapse happening inside him.
“No…” he whispered — barely a word, more like a breath laced with panic. It was swallowed immediately by Luffy’s mouth as he latched onto Law’s neck, biting hard, sucking until color bloomed beneath his skin.
Luffy could see it — feel it — the way shock was drowning him now, eyes growing more unfocused, more dazed. His voice was faltering, almost gone, and the tremble in his limbs wasn’t just protest anymore — it was disbelief, raw and cold, the kind that sank deep into the bones. Like his mind couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Like everything he thought he understood was being rewritten under Luffy’s touch.
Luffy’s didn’t care. He fed on it — the unraveling, the collapse, the exquisite moment where resistance turned to helplessness. His hand never left Law’s jeans, still rubbing, pressing, coaxing, refusing to acknowledge the limp lack of response beneath his palm. It didn’t matter. Law’s body would learn. He’d make sure of it.
Law’s thighs jerked again, spasming inward in a last-ditch effort to close, to shield. But Luffy’s weight kept them open, his knees braced wide, unmovable. His other hand tightened around Law’s wrist, pressing it down against the mattress with enough force to make the tension hum through their locked limbs.
Law’s voice cracked again — barely a sound, a trembling whisper of, “N-No… don’t…” — but it was thinner this time, fading into the thick air between them. His body twitched beneath Luffy, a fragile, instinctual jolt that carried no real strength. It was like watching a wounded bird try to fly. Luffy didn’t move, didn’t budge. His weight held Law down, anchored him, and his hips moved slow and firm, grinding deep with a lazy purpose. Every roll of his body was a message: stop fighting it. He wanted Law to feel it, to drown in it, to lose himself in the heat until there was nothing left but surrender.
Law’s eyes fluttered, a spark of panic flashing in their depths, sharp and naked, but his body was too weak to follow through, too shattered to fight. His lips moved, forming words that didn’t come, his voice too broken, too lost. The shock was a weight now, pressing down on him, making his breaths shallow, his movements sluggish. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t imagined Luffy — reckless, grinning Luffy — could be like this, could do this. It was a blow, a betrayal, a fracture in the world he thought he knew, and Luffy could see it so, so clearly it was amazing.
Law’s voice broke through the haze again, weak and fractured, as if trying to find words that had abandoned him.
“Mugiwara-ya… stop…” His words were barely audible, slurred with exhaustion and fear, his breath hitching as Luffy’s teeth grazed his throat, leaving another red mark. “Please… no…”
Luffy’s lips curled into a frown, his eyes glinting with a hint of irritation. He didn’t like it when Traffy talked like that, when he tried to push him away. Not when he was supposed to be moaning, melting, breaking apart in Luffy’s hands. Those weak, broken noises were better — involuntary and trembling — not these half-formed protests that tried to deny what was already happening.
“Shh, Traffy,” Luffy crawled higher, his face hovering over Law’s sweat-damp one. “Don’t talk. Just feel me.”
His mouth came down hard and demanding, claiming Law’s lips with a hunger that refused to be questioned, swallowing the faint protest that tried to form. Law’s head jerked, trying to twist away, but it was slow, sluggish. His lips tried to press tight together — resistance, yes, but the kind that came from someone too drained to follow through. Luffy felt the tremble in his jaw, the hesitant clench of his teeth — not strength, but fear masquerading as defiance. And that only drove him deeper into Law’s silence, into his stillness. Because there, beneath the shudders and breathless protests, Luffy felt it: the moment Law gave up the idea of escape.
Luffy snarled — low, primal — the sound vibrating in his throat as Law dared to resist again. That flicker of defiance was too much. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. His power surged through him, instinctive, absolute. His tongue thickened, swelled past the limits of human, of natural — and forced its way between Law’s lips, prying them open with brutal, wet pressure.
Law’s eyes snapped wide, a flash of pure panic tearing through the fog of exhaustion. A strangled sound escaped him — part cry, part gag — as Luffy’s tongue invaded, overwhelming, filling his mouth until there was no room left for breath or protest. And still, it didn’t stop.
Luffy pushed deeper.
His tongue stretched, lengthening with a pulse of devil fruit power, snaking past Law’s throat. The muscles spasmed in protest, the tight reflex of a body unprepared for this kind of intrusion. Law’s body jolted violently beneath him, a weak, terrified attempt to break free. But there was no strength in him, not anymore — only shudders, and the involuntary clenching of a throat that couldn’t expel what it couldn’t comprehend.
A muffled scream vibrated against Luffy’s tongue. Law’s chest convulsed as he struggled to breathe, to process the violation. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, the sting of pain and oxygen starvation blurring everything. His gaze rolled back, lashes fluttering, his body trembling on the edge of collapse — fragile, shaking, utterly overpowered.
Luffy felt it all. The panic. The terror. The shallow, gasping effort to stay present. And it made his own breath hitch with satisfaction. This was what it meant to be his. To be owned. Law was pliant, breaking apart under him in the most exquisite way — every twitch and gasp a silent admission that Luffy had won.
The kiss wasn’t a kiss anymore. It was domination. A brand seared deep with every pulse of his tongue. And Luffy gave himself over to it completely — to the raw hunger, the need to see Law come undone.
He could feel the way Law’s throat spasmed around his tongue, the way his body shuddered, teetering on the edge of consciousness. It was intoxicating, the power, the control. His cock throbbed, pressed painfully against the confines of his shorts, but he didn’t touch himself. Not yet. This moment was more important. This unraveling. He wanted to savor this, to drag it out, to feel Law’s body break under him, to hear those moans grow louder, to see the moment Traffy finally gave in.
Only when Law’s movements slowed, when his body trembled on the brink of unconsciousness, did Luffy relent.
He pulled back just enough to let Law gasp, his tongue shrinking back to normal, leaving Law coughing, choking, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. His lips were swollen, red, slick with saliva, his eyes glassy, staring up at Luffy with a mix of horror and disbelief.
“Ah…” he rasped, his voice broken and raw. “Wha…?”
“Come on,” Luffy growled under his breath, his voice rough with growing frustration. “You gotta feel this. You have to want me.”
He moved his hand once again, stroking, tugging, trying to force a reaction, to drag arousal out of Law’s broken body by sheer will. But there was no rise, no swelling — only the dull, vulnerable heat of flesh that didn’t know how to respond, that couldn’t.
Law’s breath hitched, sharp and ragged, a pained sound leaking from his throat. His entire body jolted, thighs jerking in protest, but there was no strength in it. No power. Luffy’s body was too heavy, his presence absolute. Law couldn’t push him away, couldn’t retreat — he could only endure, trapped under the weight of someone who refused to let go.
The way Law trembled — like he was caught between trying to escape and trying not to fall apart — made Luffy’s blood burn hotter. Every convulsion, every weak sound from Law’s throat was proof. Proof that he wasn’t used to being touched like this. Proof that his body was trying and failing to protect him. Proof that he still wasn’t there yet.
But he would. He had to.
Law’s voice cracked, a desperate, “N-no…” but it was swallowed by a scream as Luffy’s thumb pressed hard against his urethra, deliberate, cruel. Law’s hips bucked, his body thrashing weakly, his eyes squeezing shut as visible pain and shock tore through him.
Luffy’s eyes narrowed, his thumb stretched, thinning into a narrow, flexible tendril, and he pushed it forward, forcing it into Law’s urethra, invasive, unrelenting. Law’s scream was muffled, his head thrashing, his body arching as he tried to pull away, to escape the agony, the violation.
Luffy’s beast roared with satisfaction, feeding on Law’s pain, his panic, his brokenness. He was exploring, testing, pushing Traffy’s body to its limits, searching for the spark that would make him respond. But Law’s screams, his thrashing, his tears — they only drove Luffy further, made the heat in his veins burn hotter, made his cock throb harder, the pre-cum soaking his shorts a constant reminder of how close he was to the edge. He decided that didn’t care that Law wasn’t hard, not really. Traffy would learn. Traffy would feel it. Luffy would make him.
His lips hovered at Law’s ear, his breath hot, shaky with restraint. “I’ll show you,” he murmured with promise, “how good it can be.”
His thumb pulled back, shrinking to normal, but his hand didn’t leave. It stayed there — rubbing, coaxing, unrelenting. Law’s body trembled, his chest heaving, his breaths shallow and uneven, his eyes half-lidded, teetering on the edge of consciousness. The shock was a weight now, crushing him, breaking him, and Luffy could see it — the way Law’s mind fractured, the way his body gave up.
That fragility struck something deep and hungry inside. His hips pressed down harder, grinding against the friction of his shorts, each rub a spark of maddening pressure. His cock throbbed with need, but he held back. He wouldn’t take — not yet. Not until Law shattered completely. Not until he stopped thinking altogether. Not until surrender bloomed in his throat like a sob.
His lips crashed against Law’s again, swallowing the faint, broken protests, his tongue forcing its way in, claiming, dominating. Law’s body convulsed, a choked sound escaping, his eyes rolling back into the haze of pain and shock, as Luffy plunged deeper, tongue aggressive, claiming space that wasn’t offered but taken.
Law’s eyes snapped open, wide and panicked, a guttural hrrk escaping as Luffy’s tongue filled his mouth again and didn’t stop there. His tongue was stretching, unnaturally so, slithering into Law’s throat, bypassing resistance. Past his soft palate, into the tight, vulnerable tunnel of his esophagus. He could feel it — the warm, pulsing walls of Law’s throat, every instinctive spasm from the invasion, the faint ridges of cartilage, the helpless, desperate contractions of muscles that didn’t know how to fight this, that could only struggle weakly, blindly. It was intoxicating, the sensation, the power, the way Luffy could feel every shudder, every twitch, every panicked beat of Law’s heart.
Law gagged, a pitiful, wet sound, chest hitching in desperation. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth, glistening as it mixed with silent tears. His body seized in trembling waves, legs jerking, fingers twitching. His hrrks turned to wet, choking gurgles, throat spasming around Luffy’s tongue, lungs convulsing under his skin with the panicked effort to draw air. Luffy’s pushed deeper, his tongue probing, exploring, feeling the way Law’s esophagus tightened, the way his stomach clenched below. His throat pulsed visibly where Luffy’s tongue moved inside him. A grotesque, bulging outline beneath the skin. Luffy watched it, awed. Fascinated. Overwhelmed by the raw vulnerability of it — the complete, terrifying helplessness. Law wasn’t fighting anymore. He was surviving, barely, and only because Luffy allowed it.
Law’s eyes rolled back again, lids fluttering shut, only to snap open moments later in sheer terror. His face was a mask of agony, lips parted around breath that wouldn’t come. The wet, ragged gurgles were louder now, throat spasming and spasming, muscles tightening as if trying — failing — to expel what didn’t belong. Tongue twisted deeper, moved with slow, possessive deliberation, as if mapping every fold and ripple of Law’s insides. The intimacy of it was brutal. Beautiful in a way that was as intimate as it was cruel. Luffy could feel the heat, the slickness, the way Law’s body fought and failed, and it drove him wild, made his cock pulse harder, a constant reminder of how close he was to the edge.
His hand moved again — back inside his jeans — and gripped soft, unresponsive flesh. Law’s cock was another trembling piece of him overwhelmed by shock, pain, and the sheer weight of submission. And that, that, made Luffy’s grip tighten.
He pushed inside him again, his finger sliding past the tight, sensitive walls of Law’s urethra, probing, exploring, feeling the way the tissue quivered, the way Law’s body convulsed in agony. He didn’t pull back this time. Instead, he moved, his finger twisting, curling, thrusting in a slow, deliberate rhythm, fucking Law’s urethra with a precision.
Law’s screams broke through anyway — even with Luffy’s tongue buried deep down his throat. They weren’t coherent anymore. They were raw, primal, broken things, bubbling up from somewhere deeper than thought. His body thrashed, but without direction — wild, desperate spasms that sent his hips jolting upward, as if some last part of him still believed he could escape. His eyes were blown wide, sightless and frantic, pupils lost in a sea of glassy panic. Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, carving trembling tracks into flushed skin. His mouth hung slack around the invading muscle, stretched open, drooling uncontrollably — spit trailing down to the mattress, soaking into it, mingling with sweat and fear.
His chest heaved like a drowning man’s, back arching, ribs straining, lungs unable to pull in air with Luffy lodged so deep. Every breath was a wet, stuttering gasp. Every movement, a flinch. His body had become chaos — a storm of tremors and convulsions, each one sharper than the last. Luffy felt it all. Every shudder. Every spasm. Every hopeless contraction of Law’s throat around him. The raw nerves. The sheer, staggering overload of it. The way Law’s urethra spasmed around his finger, the way his body fought and failed against the onslaught.
Law wasn’t just overwhelmed — he was losing his mind. Going insane with everything being done to him in real time.
And Luffy was the reason why. The cause. The center of it.
It was beautiful, Luffy thought — achingly, blazingly beautiful — in a way that twisted his chest and set his blood alight. Law’s agony, the stark terror in his eyes, the way his body trembled and twisted under him, fragile and defenseless — it was all proof. Proof of how badly Luffy needed him. How deeply, how violently that need had taken root. It hurt, gods, it hurt, to see Traffy like this — undone, shattered — but what else could he do? Traffy was too stubborn, too scared to understand. And if this was what it took to make him see, then Luffy would do it. He’d break him. Slowly. Thoroughly. Irrevocably. He’d pull him apart and put him back together, teach him how to love, how to belong to someone — to him.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way, Traffy,” Luffy murmured thickly, voice muffled by the stretch of his tongue still plunged deep inside. “But you’ll get it.”
Law’s screams echoed — sharp, animal cries that bounced hollow in the dusty room around them. His body jolted with each one, wracked by spasms so intense they left him trembling. His eyes had gone unfocused now, lashes clumped with tears, pupils blown wide with pain and suffering. His lips were glistening with spit, mouth still forced open, slack and helpless. His throat bulged around Luffy’s tongue, the outline faint but unmistakable — lewd in its vulnerability. And through it all, his mind was slipping. Cracking. Collapsing inward. The shock was consuming him, blanketing him, breaking down every last defense until there was nothing left but raw nerve and instinct. Luffy saw it happening. Saw the light dim in Law’s eyes. Saw the way his body stopped fighting — not in surrender, but in exhaustion, like something inside him had simply let go.
Luffy’s body was trembling now — a violent, involuntary shudder that started deep in his chest and rippled outward, seizing his limbs, setting every nerve ablaze. He was close. So close. His cock throbbed in rhythm with every broken cry that cracked out of Law’s battered throat, every desperate spasm of his trembling body. The friction of his soaked shorts against his skin was maddening — the cling of wet fabric amplifying every grind of his hips, every pulse of heat that surged through him. It was building, rising, a brutal pressure curling in his gut and spine, coiling like a living thing inside him, demanding release. He needed it. Needed Traffy to feel it — to know it, even now, even like this.
Law was past the edge, and Luffy saw it — felt it. His body convulsed in uneven waves, legs twitching, muscles locking and releasing like a short-circuited machine. Froth foamed at the corners of his slack lips, saliva thick and stringing, a sign of how far he'd been pushed, how completely he'd broken. His face was streaked with tears, flushed and vacant, and his limbs no longer resisted — they only jerked in aftershocks. It was horrifying. It was beautiful. A grotesque kind of devotion, carved from agony and need. Luffy’s need.
His Traffy.
Luffy’s back arched, breath hitching as he bore down harder, grinding his cock between Law’s limp thighs with a desperate, ragged force that made the mattress creak beneath them. The pressure, the heat, the slickness — it was electric, pure fire in his veins. And he growled, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated low in his chest — primal, possessive, hungry. Every part of him burned with it — not just lust, but something deeper. Something raw. Something terrifying.
He couldn’t hold back anymore. With a sudden, jerking motion, Luffy tore his tongue away from Law’s throat — the slick, wet parting of contact echoed in the space between them, punctuated by Law’s choked, disoriented gasp. At the same time, his finger withdrew from Law’s urethra, returning to its normal shape as it slid out. The withdrawal was violent in its absence. It shattered something.
Law’s body seized.
He convulsed helplessly, a raw, ragged scream ripping from his lungs like it had been buried too long, trapped beneath layers of restraint that had just shattered. Every inch of him trembled — not with pleasure, not with pain, but something between, something shapeless and overwhelming. His muscles spasmed, too weak to resist, too lost to even know what he was resisting. His legs buckled beneath the weight of sensation. His mouth hung open, gasping silently, eyes wide but unseeing.
Luffy watched it all.
He drank it in — the way Law’s body betrayed him, the way his strength dissolved into pure, trembling vulnerability. That fragility lit something molten in Luffy’s chest. His release crashed through him, fierce and final, his cock twitching hard in his shorts as the heat flooded out of him, soaking the fabric, streaking down his thighs in thick, pulsing waves. His body shook, jaw clenched around another growl as his hips ground down against Law’s form one last time, drawing out every last flicker of friction and heat.
Law just lay there, boneless and broken beneath him, limbs slack, breath shallow, his eyes fluttering in stunned disarray. Lost. Overwhelmed. Fragile.
Luffy’s grin bloomed slowly — wide and unrepentant, euphoric. His chest heaved with the rush of it. This was right. This was real. This was Traffy — shattered and still his. Every tremble, every breathless whimper proved it. Luffy had marked him, claimed him, pulled him so deep into his orbit that there was no way out. And even if Traffy didn’t know what to make of it yet — didn’t understand what it meant to belong like this — he would.
Luffy would teach him.
One way or another, Law would learn.
Luffy’s eyes drifted downward — and there it was. A dark stain had spread across the front of Law’s jeans, the fabric clinging wetly to his trembling thighs. His cock hung limp, untouched by arousal. This wasn’t lust. It was something far more fragile, far more human. Law had lost control.
Luffy stilled for a moment, staring at the stain. Then a slow grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, eyes gleaming not with cruelty, but with something deeper — possessive, affectionate, almost reverent. He reached out and pressed his fingers to the dampness, the heat of it undeniable. A quiet, choked sound escaped Law’s throat, but he didn’t flinch. Couldn’t. His body had gone slack, pliant. Broken.
Traffy had wet himself, his body pushed so far past its limits that it had given up, a childlike surrender to the pain, the shock, the violation. Luffy’s heart swelled, a strange, possessive affection flooding him.
“Oh, Traffy…” Luffy breathed, voice low and velvety, the sound of it like a hush meant for a child. He leaned down, lips grazing a tear-streaked cheek. The salt of tears mixed with the tang of spit and sweat, but Luffy kissed the mess without hesitation, tender, almost doting. “Look at you, so cute. Like a little kid. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Law’s body was a wreck, still shaking with aftershocks, chest rising in ragged, shallow gasps, each breath a struggle. His face was twisted in raw, unfiltered agony, not just from the pain, but from the sheer horror of what he’d just endured. There was no comprehension left in his expression — only the wide-eyed emptiness of someone who had been broken open and left to drown in it.
Satisfaction settled in Luffy. This was how it should be. This was exactly what he wanted.
He cupped Law’s jaw, thumb brushing a tear from the corner of one eye, smearing it across his flushed cheek.
“You did so good, y’know?” he murmured, tone light, but edged with something fierce. “You’re so soft like this. So honest.”
Luffy’s chest pressed firmly against Law’s, skin meeting skin in a slow, deliberate drag. He moved with purpose, grinding against him just enough to feel the subtle give of Law’s nipples beneath his own — pretty teats didn’t stiffen beneath the contact, just simply existed there, untouched by desire, dulled by shock. And Luffy adored that. That softness. That helplessness. He didn’t mind. He preferred them like this: gentle, vulnerable, unguarded. Perfect. Made to be tasted, claimed, and savored.
“So pretty,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of Law’s ear. His breath hitched as he spoke, trembling with hunger he made no effort to hide. “Your nipples, Traffy… so soft. So perfect. I love 'em like this.”
He rolled forward again, a slow, possessive grind, skin dragging over skin — nipples brushing, sliding, catching. Law’s body jolted faintly beneath him, a weak, involuntary response to the stimulation — a raw, helpless reaction — and that made it even better. Luffy savored it, drank in every twitch, every breath, like it belonged to him. Because it did.
He was beautiful like this — broken, vulnerable, undeniably his. Luffy had dragged him past the edge, past whatever strength or pride he’d clung to, and now Law lay there, shaking, lost in the aftermath. It was perfect. It was everything. The way Law looked now was proof, raw and absolute, of how much Luffy wanted him — how deep, how consuming his love truly was.
“You’ll understand soon,” Luffy murmured, barely able to keep the hoarseness from his voice. “How much I love you. How good it’s gonna be.”
His hand slid down slowly, lovingly, fingers brushing over the damp patch on Law’s jeans. The fabric was heavy with shame and surrender. Luffy’s touch was gentle there, like he was touching something sacred.
Because to him, he was.
Traffy was his. Every broken gasp, every breathless tremor, every inch of this wrecked, confused body belonged to him. And this — this fragile, shattered moment of broken submission — was only the beginning.