#oleander folderol

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

[Moments are interactions between Quill and other One Piece characters/OCs that may not ever make it into the more canonical long-form stories. They can be angsty, spicy, smutty, or feature "bad ends". It's a way for me to play with Quill without the weighty commitment of "canon".]

Summary: Quill runs afoul of Vice-Admiral Oleander - "The Hoarder" - speaking a language that doesn't exist in the One Piece catches the observant man's attention. The more he gets to know of Quill, the more attention they get from him.

Warning: While Quill is an OC, I write them in the "reader" perspective, because they're a reincarnator and their first life was this Earth/Reality. As a fan of One Piece, they are almost more "reader" than OC. This can be jarring for folks, hence the warning. (this may change the more I develop Quill)

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission.

CW: kidnapping, Oleander's obsession makes him a bit Yandere, kinky AF

Thanks to spit-balling about OCs with Blue, this is going to be a small series of increasingly debauched moments.

Part 1 (you are here) -:- Part 2

“Age?” The man questioning you right now was oddly intriguing. Considering you’d woken up with him looming over you.

The curly locks of hair framed his face handsomely, once you could actually see it. For a moment the large glasses had you worried there was an eight foot bug looming over you. Anyone would look handsome after that shock.

“Twenty something.” You promised to answer his questions truthfully when he explained to you that he was a Marine and you were in his custody. This wasn’t the world you wanted to deal with the government in, but you didn’t have much choice currently. “Don’t look at me like that, I don’t know. This body doesn’t remember.”

It was true. As a reincarnator you were used to waking up in a new body and on a new world. But all the worlds before this one weren’t known to you. You knew this world was the One Piece world. But you couldn’t remember being born in this world.

Something must’ve happened to cause you to forget, but grumbling to yourself about your frustrations, in a language no one spoke, had been a terrible idea. By his own admission this was precisely why this Vice Admiral Bug-Glasses had snatched you off the streets.

“This body?” Credit where it’s due, when he quirks a brow like that he looks even hotter.

“Clarification wasn’t part of the agreement.” You say with a smile.

Oleander snorts. This entire interaction has been the most interesting twenty minutes of his 35 years of life. He had you snatched off the streets because you were speaking in a fully foreign language, and it intrigued him.

But when you woke up in his lab you were calm. Calmer than anyone had been. You told him your name, and even spoke more in the language he’d heard before. Afterward you’d translated your own words - not that he had any way of verifying it, but that was the best part.

What kept his interest was how there wasn’t a trace of duplicity in your answers or your body language. Either you were exceptionally skilled at lying, or you were being honest. Given how you’d just declined to answer him, he was more inclined to honesty.

“Quill, age unknown, island of origin unknown, 152 centimeters-.”

“152 point four.”  Oleander gives you a look and your return it. “I ain’t working with much here, doc, every point matters.”

“… 152 point four centimeters,” the annoyance in his voice isn’t from the correction, it’s that he acquiesced. “Parentage unknown. There’s no bounty in our systems for you, so if you are a criminal you haven’t been caught.”

“I can leave then.” It’s not a question.

“No. You’re here until I decide otherwise.” Oleander corrects, pushing his glasses up and straightening up.

He’s really tall when he’s not crouched over. Probably solid as a wall too. His movements are efficient, if not languid. He probably can’t be bothered to spend more energy than required on something that isn’t his magic.

Idly you wondered if anyone else in this world could see the aura of manna that swirls around him.

“Kidnapping, marine? Sounds like pirate behavior.” You’re smiling as you say it, body relaxed. Now’s not the time to try and escape anyway.

Oleander’s smile is anything but reassuring. “You were speaking an unknown language when I found you. Shortly after going unconscious your body changed from masculine in appearance, to feminine in appearance, and your perfectly normal teeth have a pronounced, dare I say, vampiric look to them now.”

You wanted to roll your eyes. The whole body thing was something you hadn’t sorted out and it made it really hard to stay under the radar. Maybe he was doing you a favor - for now you didn’t have to worry about being snagged by slavers or pirates. Tall, dark and bug-eyed might be a useful source of information himself.

He sets a jar on the desk. There’s a miniature set up inside of it that looks comfortable enough - you’re even fairly certain the little opaque section is a bathroom of sorts. You’re already putting two and two together, given the other jars with miniaturized creatures in them.

“Taking the whole ship in a bottle idea to a bit of an extreme, eh doc?”

“You keep calling me that.” He says it so flatly you aren’t sure how he’s taking it.

“Not all doctors heal people,” you answer evenly. “You’re gonna tell me you’re not a mad scientist?”

“I’m perfectly sane.” The toothy grin on his face assured you he doesn’t believe that for a moment. Or he does so much so it proves your point anyway.

“No one is perfectly sane, doc.”

Oleander finds himself almost discomforted by how desperately he wants to know more the more you say. You keep looking at the aura around him so he knows you can see it. Your eyes slipped over the shelves more than once, and you’re still so calm.

It’s refreshing, intriguing, and uncomfortable.

You smile even as you feel your body shrink. The sensation isn’t unpleasant, but the change in perspective is unsettling. Magic in this world didn’t wholly surprise you - the great wide world of One Piece was nothing if not wide and varied.

Once you’re small enough you’re in the jar, it’s pleasant. A good temperature, and the little bed is surprisingly comfy.

“Until I sort out everything about you, I’m not letting you out of my sight.” Oleander explains, setting your jar on his desk.

Oh you’re going to drive this man to drink, you think, sitting down on the bed. Or rile him up enough you get some entertainment out of this all your own. Maybe you can strike a deal with him.

He looks pent up.

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

Part 2

Summary: Quill makes a deal with Oleander. They like assisted orgasms more than solo play, and are willing to answer his questions about them in exchange for a good lay. Oleander agrees.

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission.

CW: Male-Mode Quill, anal sex, size difference - Oleander operates by the letter of the law, and Quill is learning that.

Part 1 -:- Part 2 (YAH!) -:- Part 3

Despite keeping you on his desk, Oleander did mean to give you some manner of privacy. He wasn’t going to watch you bathe or anything like that, you weren’t actually one of the animals in the other jars. The enchantment on the jar would keep things clean, and if you were in there for too long you could both still communicate clearly.

It wouldn’t do for you to be sick or something with him being unable to help.

Corpses were poor study materials.

Especially when what he needed most from you was communication.

Despite all that, here you were, sitting on the small bed in the jar, linen pants down at your ankles, stroking your impressive cock. The night’s rest having changed your body again. Your voice was the same, long white hair cascading down your shoulders, blood rushed into your face as you put on a show. Hot breaths dripped from your lips as your hips bucked into your hands.

“Keep - keep watching, Doc.” You husk, feeling the pleasure starting to knot at the base of your cock.

“For my benefit, or yours?” He questions and you grin.

“Ah, y-you can hear me.”

“The jars would be a poor medium of containment if I couldn’t hear what was going on in them.” He grumbles, eyes still on you.

“Fair, fair, I was gonna ask, haaa, hells, but I figured actions would speak, speak louder, gods be damned this is so inefficient!” You gasp even as the last few pumps of your hands are enough to get you over the edge.

Orgasms always felt divine no matter what body you were in, but the extra tactile input of sperm was always nice. It was a small bonus for needing a moment to recover before you could cum again.

Most of the time at least.

Leaning back on your elbows you leave your throbbing cock uncovered, twitching with eagerness while you caught your breath.

Oleander’s expression is nigh unreadable.

“What were you going to ask?”

“You look pent up, Doc.”

“… Sex doesn’t get my research done.” He says after a moment. Well, at least he doesn’t seem wholly disinterested or averse to the act.

If it’s a matter of efficiency, that’s easy enough to fix.

“What if it did?” You question, slowly stroking yourself.

“… Explain.” You can almost feel his curiosity licking at your skin. Keeping the man’s interest was going to be important.

“Sex is better with a partner.” You prompt. “I deeply enjoy a good orgasm, and I can’t get there on my own.” You let things hang in the air for a second before continuing. “Give me the treats I want, Doc, and I’ll answer your questions - honestly and with clarity.”

The unnerving toothy grin on Oleander’s face sends the sweetest chill up your spine and you nearly cum again.

“One answer per orgasm, I assume.” He prompts and you nod.

“Nice, equal exchange. We both end up sated for the moment.” You state, your eyes moving to the book shelves. Equivalency and fair trade seemed to be the doc’s core principles. You weren’t a fan of the Marines, but this kind of justice was easier to survive than that absolute justice bullshit.

“How can I be sure of your honesty?”

You grin. “I know you’re not doubting me suddenly. But we’ll make it easier - all I have is my body and my word. You can ask the same question as many times as you want, I’m sure you’ve got drugs and truth serums and devil fruits available to verify things.

“Post fuck bliss makes it harder to be duplicitous, so that’ll work in your favor.” Pausing you look up at him. “Assuming you’re skilled enough in sex to actually make someone like me cum.”

Oleander didn’t so much as flinch, but the aura around him bristled.

“Don’t try to bait me.” He says flatly. “Worry less about my experience and more about your size.”

Oleander opens the jar, dumping you onto the desk a little unceremoniously. You’re about to shout that you absolutely are not going to have sex with him while you’re six inches tall, but you’re already returning to your proper size. Even at your full size, Oleander has three feet on you.

He pulls your pants off and tosses them aside, palm on your clavicle and fingers loose around your neck as he holds you against the desk. You don’t fight him, taking a moment to look around the room as he undoes his pants one-handed.

“Door locked?”

“You enjoy being watched.”

“By who I choose, not-!” You look back down toward him and your eyes widen as he sets his half hard cock against your smaller one.

“Don’t worry about the door. Worry about this.” He says, rutting against your sweaty skin until he’s hard and twitching against you.

“Jesus Christ.” You huff, eyes wide, caught between curiosity, desire and fear.

“Who’s that?”

You swallow thickly, squirming beneath his grip despite it all. “M-make me cum, and… and I’ll tell you. But, you… you can’t split me in half.”

He grunts.

“Don’t give me that!” You bark. “I’m only 152 centimeters, thats- .”

“Point four,” he interrupts, letting go of your neck and grabbing your ankles. “One fifty two point four, you’ll be fine.”

“You jackass,” you snarl the word, but there’s a smile on your lips.

Oleander’s magic aura coalesces around the hand he holds up and you watch as something thick and gooey coats his gloved fingers. You can feel his eyes on you as he presses a thick, heavily lubed finger against your ass.

Your lips part as your mouth opens from the intrusion and Oleander looms over you, mouth opening as well. His tongue licks the air between you and the act is lewd and alluring.

Fuck this creepy marine was becoming more interesting to you. That wasn’t part of the plan.

Oleander’s finger works in and out of your ass slowly, the thick digit forcing you to relax, sending warm surges of pleasure into you. When he pushes the second one in the intense stretch forces you to suck in a breath, but when you push against him he pins you to the desk with his free hand again. The rough action rattles the desk’s knickknacks, and knocks the wind out of you enough to make you breathe properly.

“There you go.” His tone is warm, his eyes still watching you intently. “Breathe and you’ll relax.”

You nod, focusing on your breathing and trying to calm your body despite the pleasure he was giving you. Gods save you, you’re not going to doubt someone’s skills until you’re disappointed by them ever again.

“Oh gods.” You grab onto the hand against your neck, legs spreading open as your feet scramble to brace against his desk. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!”

Oleander shifts enough to put your cock in his mouth and your entire consciousness shatters at the action. The extra stimulation is too much and you cum hard in his mouth. It’s warm and wet and he’s sucking your tip little on top of it, and all you can do is whimper and wiggle until he stops.

Pulling his fingers out of your ass, he releases your cock from his mouth, letting your spend drip off his tongue and onto your stomach.

“Jesus,” you husk, covering your face. It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen something like that before, but you hadn’t expected it from Mr. Repressed.

He grunts, straightening up. With one hand he spreads the earlier lube on his own cock, holding your ankle with his other hand.

“Now that you’ve orgasmed, I get my answer even if I split you in half.” He says casually, turning you onto your stomach, pinning one leg against the desk with a knee, keeping the other in his hand.

“Don’t!” You gasp before his free hand pins you to the desk, face down this time, the large palm and fingers covering your back easily.

His hair cascades down around you, and you can feel the heat of his words by your ear as his massive cock is pressed against your ass.

“Don’t fear, relax.” He pushes against you slowly, giving you time to relax and adjust. “There’s only very specific conditions under which I would find pleasure in your pain.”

“Such aaaaahhhhhh-ssss?” You hiss the last word as he sinks the head of his cock into your ass. His hands were big, his damnable dick is bigger.

“Oh, we didn’t negotiate me answering your questions.” You can feel the grin dripping onto your skin from the tone of his voice. “Relax, it’s important we know how much of me you can take.”

“Stay, stay still,” you huff, wiggling beneath him and riding his girth yourself a few times to help. The point was valid, you’d need to test again when your body changed.

The two of you worked together, slowly inching Oleander’s veiny beast into your ass. The hand that had been holding you down earlier was rubbing circles into your back as you pushed yourself onto him.

By the time your ass rested against his torso, his cock was bullying every sensitive place inside you.

“Took it all.” He nearly hums the words. “Impressive.”

“Please,” you gasp, hanging onto his desk like it’s a life saver. “I’m s’close again.”

Oleander takes an empty jar off his desk, and reaches around your waist, sticking your dick in it.

“Keeping a sample, eh doc?”

“Keeping my desk clean.” He clarifies, shifting his hips.

Oleander pulls out slowly, adding more lube to his shaft before pushing back in. The second stroke is enough for your body and you cum against him and into the jar. He grunts, but keeps moving through your orgasm.

As you’re devolving into swears, drooling onto his desk, Oleander fucks you slowly through two more orgasms before he’s speeding up, snapping his hips into your ass. Something drips off him and onto your back from exertion, and the last few thrusts are gonna leave bruises on your thighs from the desk edge.

The throb of his cock as he fills your ass almost makes you cum again. A mix of exhaustion and satisfaction, however, keep you from it. He thrusts a few more times and cums again, making you whine involuntarily. Overstimulation was going to do you in if this man filled you any further.

“How long, since your last fuck, doc?”

“Eight years.” He huffs, finally pulling out of you.

“You need this agreement more than me, it seems.” You sigh the words, practically melting into the desk. You were going to need a minute before you could walk.

You begin to shrink, but instead of going back into your jar, Oleander puts you in his palm and walks away from the desk.

“You can answer my question while I get you cleaned up.” He states flatly.

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

Part 3

Summary: Quill makes a deal with Oleander. They like assisted orgasms more than solo play, and are willing to answer his questions about them in exchange for a good lay. Oleander agrees.

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission.

CW: Female-Mode Quill, rough sex, size difference, forced orgasms, threat of exposure - Oleander operates by the letter of the law, and Quill is learning that.

Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3 (YAH!) -:- Part 4

“Ride me.” Oleander commands, lifting you out of your jar. You’re still sleepy and not entirely sure why he’s demanding it.

“Your body changed.” He explains even though you haven’t asked, as you return to full size in his lap. He already has you straddling him, keeping you caged between him and the desk. “We need to know how I fit.”

For simplicity’s sake, your clothes are now just a linen tunic long enough to be a robe or dress. No matter the shape of your body it gives you coverage and provides easy access. The two of you agreed on it before bed last night, after you explained to Oleander how your general proportions stayed the same, but your torso would change.

And your teeth.

“How you… fit? My ass hasn’t cha-,” you pause, realizing you have tits this morning, and Oleander’s dick is already pressing into your slit despite him not being hard. “Ah, right. I’m not taking that fire hose without prep.”

“Lube is easy enough.” He says holding up his hand.

You stand on the chair, putting a foot up on the armrest. Oleander’s eight feet is mostly in his legs, but his face is level with your chest since you’re barely five foot.

“I have entirely too much work.” His voice is flat, well it’s not like you took the pajamas off.

“Two minutes.” You say. “You can prep me deeper and faster with those banana-thick fingers, and I’ll do the r-rest!” You gasp as the slicked finger wriggles against your entrance, teasing your folds for a second before pushing in.

The lube makes it easy for his finger to push in deep. The full feeling is a little intimidating, considering his cock is thicker. Your hands are on his shoulders, steadying yourself and helping him as best you can. You’re almost biting through your lip to keep from moaning as he pushes the second finger in.

“Sensitive thing, aren’t you?” There’s amusement in his voice, but instead of a retort the only thing that escapes your lips is a needy gasp.

“Complaining?” You husk, practically fucking yourself on his fingers.

“Hardly. I get to ask questions when you orgasm, and I have a lot of questions.” He shoves his fingers in deep, making your legs shake. “This makes it more efficient.”

“Y-yeah, that’s enough, let’s-.”

“Cum first.” He interrupts.

“Stand-standing? No, I can start now.” You feel the heat rush to your face, but Oleander presses you against his shoulder, putting your mouth near his ear.

“Maybe it’ll help me.” He insists, his thumb pressing into your clit as his fingers thrust into you.

“Hnnngh! That’s!” Your grip on his uniform tightens as you moan into his ear. “Fuck, fuck - eight years my ass, how, how, are you so confident?”

“It was a good time.” He replies, his voice is so flat it’s hard to know if he’s annoyed or just stoic.

“Bite… lemme bite you.”

“Why?”

“Teef,” you sigh, mind hazing a bit as you near the edge, dragging the sharp point of your teeth against his ear. Oleander’s body tenses. “I’m small, you won’t bleed bad.” Your tongue flicks the bottom of his ear lobe and you can feel his control crack.

A split second is all he takes to think it over, pulling his uniform aside and exposing the curve of his neck into the shoulder.

“I have too much work for stitches, control yourself.” He commands.

You lick the taut skin - he’s always so tense, but you haven’t asked why - a hot keening sound escaping you as you start to cum. Biting down on his shoulder you mewl into his skin, the coppery taste of blood trickling against your tongue.

You release your bite when he removes his fingers. It’s a frenzy of movements between the two of you and he hisses as his straining bulge is frantically released from his pants. The head against your entrance is twitching and you sink down a little too quickly, grunting against the sharp sting before you pull yourself up, easing back down more slowly.

“Fuck, you’re huge.” Your voice and legs are shaking, but you’re still managing to ease more of him in.

“I’m almost twice your height.”

“Don’t get humble on me now,” you grin up at him, having sunk down far enough that you’re level with his neck. You catch him looking down at you from behind his glasses. It’s unfair how accidentally hot this man can be, especially when you’re well-aware he’s not trying.

“Humph.”

You begin unbuttoning the front of his uniform, and he doesn’t stop you. Oleander is already reaching around you and returning to his paperwork, seemingly satisfied that you’ll be fine on your own. You’ve no intention of stripping him, but it’s better to be able to touch skin when you’re in this state. Oleander is a sweaty man, but the scent of it isn’t offensive.

It’s not roses and vanilla, but you think the manna is making it different. Musky, sure, but something more like sage and pine wood, and less like gym socks. You can’t imagine he bothers with deodorant, but he seems to be decent with his hygiene.

You get him unbuttoned, shoving the extra layers aside and getting your hands against his stomach. You’re not surprised to learn he is ripped, the layers weren’t hiding it well from your eyes in the first place, but the tense, taut muscles didn’t seem to react to your touch.

“You’re always tense like this?”

“It’s a conscious effort.” He says absently as you sink a little further down on him.

“Explains a lot.” Leaning your head against his chest you reach down between your legs, pushing on your thighs and spreading yourself a little bit more to help you sink further. A soft swear dances on the sigh that passes your lips as he reaches deeper than you knew you went. Your legs are as spread as they can be and you might be short an inch maybe, but you’ve effectively taken all of him.

Rolling your hips you slowly and carefully begin riding him. Even the small movements are enough to make wet squelching sounds as your own arousal and his sheer size push excess lube out. You look up,  and smile.

“You’ve already stopped bleeding, good. I haven’t bitten anyone like that before-ah!” There’s a tug at your hair and Oleander has forced you back a little. You moan as his cock shifts inside you, but even the tug at your hair isn’t painful.

“Open.” He states, and you comply. “They look like full fishman teeth.”

You bare your teeth more clearly, keeping your mouth open, turning your head this way and that as he watches you. Tapping the tips with your tongue you nod.

“Yeah, ‘ertty shar’.”

“What causes that?”

You shrug. “Beats me. For all the things I can answer for you doc, I don’t know why my body does this. I can’t remember anything before, like, a month ago. I woke up in a room on that island, without a name.”

“Quill isn’t your name?”

“S’only one I got at the moment.” You huff the words, hips already riding him again. “Fuck, doc, you fit just right. Ask me something different, I’m not going to make you spend an orgasm on something I can’t answer.”

“If it’s something you refuse to answer?”

“Okay, won’t make you, sp-spend a question on something I can’t or wuh-won’t answer,” you husk, leaning back enough to slip a finger against your clit. “Gods… cumming with this beast in me, might make me scream.”

“It won’t bother me, but I’ll be getting a report soon.”

You freeze. “In person?”

“Mm.”

You start to move off him. “I’ll just- hey!” Oleander puts a hand on your back and presses you down, keeping you in place. “I don’t want just anyone to see me like this!” You hiss, but his grip tightens.

The aura that’s always around him shifts, and you can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. You can’t make out the words well, but you can see the changes. After a second there’s a opaque white cover over you, almost like a tent. He seems to have fashioned it from his marine jacket.

“Stay.” He says gruffly. His consideration, sends a thrill up your spine you don’t know what to do with and you nod, relaxing against his chest.

Nothing, this was nothing. He probably just didn’t want to be bothered with putting you back in the jar. This way he could rack up orgasms and pester you with questions later.

“Let me have some of your blood.” He says it so randomly it stutters you for a second.

“Hah?”

“For research.”

“I…” You swallow hard, tucking your face into his chest, the tremble that runs through you is different. “You’ll have to strap me down.”

Oleander starts to say something but a knock at the door interrupts him. One large hand presses you into his chest until you warp your arms around his torso. The shift moves him inside you, and presses your clit into his rough pubic hairs. The soft whimper of pleasure that escapes you is drowned out by Oleander’s raised voice.

“Come in,” he says and you hear the door open. Fear tenses you up for a second before you remember the glamour that he’s cast, and you feel his fingers flinch against your back.

“Vice-Admiral, this is… uh… is that a tent?”

“Don’t gawk, get to the point, captain.” Oleander’s words are clipped and you realize his behavior toward you was, at the worst, neutral. You were at least a step or two above how he felt toward most others. Even if those steps were just interest based on your oddness.

The marine begins to give his report. Talking about prisoners on a ship you realize that you must be on a fairly large vessel. You’d hadn’t really felt any swaying, and what you had felt you wrote off to being shrunk and tossed in a jar. But it was good to know that you’d have to time your escape to line up with being docked.

Large vessels had lots of personnel, and that meant a lot of mouths to feed and water. Even the most efficient use of food would force it to maintain direct routes. Lots of prisoners on board probably meant you were on the way to Impel Down, and notoof s heading away from it.

Best not to escape the first time you dock.

A second marine arrived with a report before the first was even done. You could tell Oleander was getting irritated - the tension in his body was different. Deciding to “help”, you began to roll your hips again. Holding onto him, grinding your clit into him and clenching down as much as you could.

Oleander’s nails rake, almost gently, against your back. The act is certainly leaving red lines in its wake, but all it does is spur you on to ride him faster.

“Ad-admiral, are you alrigh-.”

“I’m fine, continue.” Credit where it’s due, his voice was almost completely neutral.

Fuck, the idea of him struggling was hot. You almost didn’t care who saw you, if you could get him to crack in front of his subordinates it would be worth it. Maybe.

The faster you went the more the pleasure hazed your mind, the less you cared about getting caught. You wanted to cum, you wanted him to cum. He filled your ass so well the day before it was divine, and the idea of him filling you up was hot.

You hadn’t realized the captains were gone until Oleander pulled you up and off his cock. Whimpering at the loss of it all, your hazy eyes focused on his glasses enough for you to be sure you were pouting at him.

“What was that?”

“Ollie’s’all pent up,” you words slur together a bit, you’d been effectively edging both of you for the last half hour at least. “Jus’ trying tah help.”

“Mm.”

“Put me back in, coach,” you hum, putting your hands on his face, cupping his jaw and smiling. “You know you want my tight little pussy to cum against your cock.”

“For someone who doesn’t want to be watched, you seem to get turned on by the idea of it.” He muses, turning you around before lining you back up. “Let’s make a game of it then, Quill.”

For some reason the sound of your name on his lips made your face flush, and you were grateful you weren’t facing him. You moan warmly as he helps you sink back down onto his cock.

“Whatcha ha-have in mind, doc?” You question as he presses one hand against your belly, the tip of his middle finger idling just above your clit.

“Every time you cum, I’ll remove a bit of the glamour.” Your body tightens in response, but the protest on your lips is cut off when he sticks his index finger into your mouth. “Reports are going to come in for the next two hours. If you only orgasm two or three times, no one will see you, only hear you.

“Anymore than that and they’ll get to look into your eyes while you moan. Then they’ll see your crude, drooling mouth, then your neck, shoulders...”

Oleander removes his finger from your mouth, holding your face so you’re looking at the office door, teasing your clit with his other hand. His voice has been even the entire time, bordering on disinterested, but you were beginning to learn the subtle differences of the vice-admiral.

He was enjoying this.

“The more you orgasm, the more questions I can ask. So I have no incentive to play fair.” His voice is low against your ear. “Good luck.”

A nervous chuckle bubbles up in you, your hands holding onto his wrist as he teases your clit. The pace is steady, wholly unbothered by you trying to pull his hand away. Your effort isn’t exactly 100%.

“Wh-what’s my reward?” You gasp, pleasure already clawing at your thighs from the steady roll of his finger.

“Getting to cum.” He answers curtly, one finger relentless against your clit, his other hand already back to work writing.

It didn’t take long for another marine to arrive with a report, and it didn’t take long for you to cum after that. You had both hands over your mouth, eyes rolled back, body taut as you did everything you could to keep quiet. His cock seemed to be made of metal; it was so impossibly hard buried in you. As you throbbed and creamed against it, it seemed to bully you right back. Oleander was part machine, as far as you were concerned, his finger keeping it’s steady pace against your clit.

He did not stop. There was no reprieve given and your body was sensitive.

“A moment, a moment,” you whimper, whisper and hiss the words, quiet and pleading, hoping that only the vice-admiral would hear you.

“What was that?” Asks the marine.

“One of the specimens, ignore it, continue.” Oleander’s finger stopped moving, but once the marine was gone he resumed.

“Fuck,” you huff, hips rolling into the pleasure.

“You’re not going to last long.” He muses.

“You… you can’t cum in me.”

“You don’t have to fear pregnancy.”

“That’s not it,” you squirm against him, pleasure and desperation making you ride him despite the fact that it’s just going to hurdle you to another orgasm. “I’m gonna lose my mind, fuck. Over fifty-six years, more an’ two life times ago,” your body arches, and you reach up, hands caressing his face as the pleasure builds again. “And now I’m being spoiled by Mister Grumpy-face and his mind-breaking cock.”

“… You’re a reincarnator?”

You nod, sinking down on him with a content sigh. “Bet you have all *sorts* of questions now, eh Doc?”

“Don’t lose count.” The words burn between his teeth.

Oleander covers your mouth, and you swear you hear the sound of a heavy lock click into place before the glamour drops entirely. You can feel magic swirl around you, and something holds you in place as he begins to fuck you.

You have his undivided attention, his fingers and his magic stimulating your body in a dozen different ways. You cling to the steel muscles of his arms, the slick sweat from his constant magical training aren’t enough to deter your grip. Magic licks at your skin, suckling your nipples and teasing the entrance to your ass.

The third orgasm slams into you with such force you’re screaming into his hand, body shaking from the pleasure that knits between your bones. He doesn’t stop, only slowing enough to let you relax and breathe, leaving your body to cradle limply in his arcane grasp.

“Fuck, fuck, please,” you gasp, fingers reaching and clawing into the air. You’re hovering over the desk when a wet tongue licking a long slow stripe up your spine as he pushes back in deeply.

Hands twice the size of yours give each of your smaller ones something to hold onto as he goes back to fucking you. The magic never stops, but the flick and pressure of pleasure is hardly needed with the way his cock ruins you internally. You wouldn’t pledge loyalty to the World Government, but you’d consider that pledge for Oleander.

If you didn’t have something else you wanted to do.

For now, there was nothing but the pleasure. The fourth orgasm bit deep into your flesh, burning your muscles and searing your lungs as much as flooded you with pleasure.

“Die, I’m gonna die,” you rasp, voice dry and hoarse from the whorish, loud groans that were being torn from your lungs. “Please, please.”

“You won’t die.” He says. Oleander’s voice is husky, deeper, lapping at your core and slipping pleasure right into your brain. “I will never let you die.”

He urges you to another orgasm, and you almost sob. You haven’t been working up to this kind of strain. Your muscles ache, your lungs are burning, the pleasure is relentless and inescapable.

“This way you won’t fear the needle.” He sighs, slowing as you near the edge. He knows what he’s doing, rolling his hips in deep and slow, forcing himself in as deep as possible.

“D-don’t drain… drain me dry, doc.” You gasp, raspy voice too weak to reach the hall outside the door. The teasing from his magic has you at the edge again, and you’re certain you’ll pass out when you’re forced to cum again so soon.

“I will never let you die.” He asserts, nearly growling the word into your ear, his teeth against your skin.

Instead of biting you, he thrusts into you with more passion and fervor than you expected from the stoic man. Somewhere in the muck of your pleasure addled haze you think you cried his name, but you weren’t sure since you passed out shortly after.

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

Finale

Summary: Quill makes a deal with Oleander. They like assisted orgasms more than solo play, and are willing to answer his questions about them in exchange for a good lay. Oleander agrees.

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission. (I would like to note, for the record, that Blue is an incredible enabler.)

CW: angst, summary, yandere vibes, dubcon in the way that la croix is flavored, mdni

Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3 -:- Part 4 -:- Part 5 -:- Part 6 -:-

You stood on the bow of the ship.

The marine ship was a few hours from making port. Even in the dense haze of 3am fog, you could sense the island in the distance.

And the ship that was already leaving port.

It had taken five months to glean enough of how his magic worked, to be able to use it well enough to undo the magic he used on you. At the end of it you offered one of your own teeth.

He railed the life out of you so hard it took you almost two days to recover.

But it was time to leave.

Stepping into the fog, you walked away without a sound. A few minutes later the marines on deck would wake up, all too embarrassed at having napped to admit to it. The ship would be docked once he was up.

Time would be spent checking the ship, and the town. By the time he finds the other ship, you’ll be on a different island.

You almost decided to stay, but there was something you wanted to witness with your own eyes, and he wasn’t going to be there. You weren’t in a position to change the world, or save anyone who you would’ve liked to save, but at least you can be there.

At the end of it all.

Maybe…

You shake the thought away. You needed to cover a lot of ground, and become as strong as you could in a relatively short amount of time. None of which you could spare to what ifs. Not yet.

-:-

It wasn’t the first time your jar had been empty. The first time he’d found you asleep on his desk. The second time you’d giggled something about hide and seek and he’d wasted - spent - an hour chasing your tiny form in his office.

This time there was a letter.

Coiled on top of it, in place of a wax seal, was your tooth, set in white gold. You’d been working on it since you couldn’t do much else the last couple of days. Rolling, bending, fitting and adjusting the fine detail work with equal measure of knowledge and frustration.

All the knowledge of a past life, none of the muscle memory.

He hadn’t wanted to believe it at first, but everything since had been proof for your claim, not against it. The look on your face when you told him about your lives, the tone that sombers your voice when you spoke of loss on a scale he wouldn’t live long enough to know.

He doesn’t want to read the letter. He already knows what’s written in it well enough.

Goodbye encoded into some smattering of words meant to soothe the sting. A sting he did not feel.

Picking up the transponder snail he speaks once the marine on the other end answers. “We have an escapee. Search the ship, the island, and bring me the records of ships in and out of port for the last hour.”

“Yes admiral, but… uh… we’ve only just docked in the last ten minutes sir.”

In the few seconds it took for the marine to talk, his fingers had betrayed him and opened the letter. The words were scrawled in a beautiful script, but the words swirled up emotions he did not want to deal with.

“Make it the last two hours.”

[“Who the FUCK falls in love with an asshole like you?!”]

-:-

That was it. The world “ended” and you were there to see it. You got to lay eyes on all the people that you knew that would never know you. It was more than you thought, if not less than you wanted.

It would be the one time you were born into a world that you knew, that you’d end up amnesiac and imprisoned to the point that you didn’t really get to do anything, but that was okay. Survival was going to be easier now, and if you traveled around you could certainly up your chances of running into people.

Maybe… well, there was one island you wouldn’t mind reaching. Maybe retire with the guardian bird there.

Swirling your finger around the magic you’d come to enjoy using, you create a tiny version of a very grumpy marine vice-admiral. He’s pouting because you took away his saxophone privileges a few weeks ago. Damn little beastie plays as bad as the real thing.

Probably just as on purpose too.

Sitting on the hillside you nudge the homunculus with your finger. “You think the big you survived all this?” The little creature, not nearly as sentient or as aware as a proper homunculus, huffs. “I sure hope so. Maybe he’ll find what he was looking for…”

The shadow that looms over you is one you recognize. So the certain aura you can feel at your back. You sigh, and smile, leaning back to beam up at the round, bug-looking glasses staring back down at you. It’s sunny outside, but somehow he manages to look like some form of shadow bug.

You start to say something, but the snap of magic pulls taut around you, and tendrils whip out from Oleander’s shadow with incredible speed. Before you can even react the magic slithers against your skin, like living rope, coiling under your clothes, forcing your wrists to your ankles, bending you backward as it lifts you off the ground.

Magic coils around your tongue, massaging it and keeping you effectively gagged as the rope-style mass continues until you are well-secured. And well aroused. Being bound was enough on its own, but his magic always seemed to sniff out every sensitive part of you. The garbled sound of a broken swear escapes you just as he forces the first, of what you imagine will be many, orgasms from you.

Hell of a way to say hello.

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

Part 6

Summary: Quill makes a deal with Oleander. They like assisted orgasms more than solo play, and are willing to answer his questions about them in exchange for a good lay. Oleander agrees.

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission. (I would like to note, for the record, that Blue is an incredible enabler.)

CW: mdni

Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3 -:- Part 4 -:- Part 5 -:- Part 6 (YAH!) -:- Finale

“All I’m saying, Oleander, is that different reeds could give you a different sound.” You grouse, but only for a moment longer before you grin. “Playin’ like that on purpose, humph.”

“You think so?” He inquires, putting the cleaned parts back into the case.

“Know so, you asshole.” You laugh. “You can’t play that bad on accident. All that effort and focus you put into everything, I don’t believe for a minute you’re shit at anything you actually care enough to do.”

Sitting on the edge of the desk you let your eyes skim over the book titles more as you let your mind wander.

“I used to play.” You murmur. Oleander doesn’t say anything, and your mind is already going down memory lane, so you follow it. “For about twenty years in my first life. Didn’t do anything professional with it. Won some awards, had some fun, moved away from it and into spaces that didn’t really let me keep playing.

“I’d go back, at this point, just to wail like a couple of angry cats, playing whenever I wanted.” You admit. “That one life was so precious and I had no idea. I made myself so small, I let so much get away from me because I didn’t think I deserved the joy of it.”

“And then?”

You blink and look over at Oleander. Those round bug-eye glasses were always reflecting the light, and never giving his eyes a chance to shine, but you were used to it at this point.

“And then… for a while… life itself was the punishment, and there was no joy to be had, for me to decide if I was worth it or not.” You sigh, maybe a little heavier than you mean to. “But once my pity party was fucking over I decided to do the best I had with what I got. Maybe I’ll get my hands on a saxophone and find a nice mountain and jus-!”

You’d been lost enough in your thoughts you hadn’t seen Oleander get closer to you. Before you could finish your thought, large, warm hands wrapped around you, and lips - a little swollen from playing the saxophone - pressed desperately against yours. Eyes wide in surprise for a moment, and not just from the kiss, you stiffened in the sudden grasp and kiss.

Oleander’s eyes were focused on yours, his glasses no where to be found. For the first time you had a clear, unobstructed view of his eyes. He almost looked angry for a moment, but once you relaxed into the embrace, he shifted, cradling you better and urging your lips to part.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips even as he took control of them, kissing you deeply. Not fighting the sweet sound that was working its way up your lungs, you moan into the kiss, letting your fingers tangle into his hair.

He tugs the tunic up, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it up and over your head before tossing it aside. Bare hands against bare skin, a hunger hanging heavy between you. His kiss slipped away from your lips, his tongue licking up your collarbone and curling around your neck before he kisses the crook of your shoulder.

Oleander manhandles you with an odd care, moving you as he pleases, licking and kissing every inch of skin he could reach. You didn’t fight him, or protest. Every sound that escapes you is formless and needy. If he was intent on devouring you, then maybe you wanted to let him.

His hands did no more than steady you, or guide you. He kissed the inside of your elbow, making your arm shiver, licking along the tips of your fingers, letting the pad of your thumb follow the sharp edge of his canine.

“Tooth,” you huff the word, Oleander grunting into you as his lips move over your legs. “Take one of mine.”

He hisses into your skin, his fingers biting into your body for a split second as he tenses. He turns you over on to your stomach, teeth against the meat of your ass, threatening to bite and break the skin before he decides to lick your skin again.

“Why?” He growls the question, one hand pressing you into the desk as he draws a line down your spine with his fingernail. It’s not heavy enough to hurt, but the soft pink line lingers long enough for him to admire it.

“If it changes once it’s removed, then it would be the best tooth in your collection.” You manage to explain it before Oleander licks a long strip up your spine making you gasp and squirm beneath him. “Fuck.” You husk the word as he moves your hair away from your shoulders, licking, kissing and nipping as you gasp and squirm against the desk.

“The teeth in my collection are from the dead.”

“I died lifetimes ago,” you gasp as he spreads your legs, hands heavy and demanding against your thighs. “Don’t turn down my gift.”

Oleander licks a heavy strip against your ass cheek and you moan at the sensation. “Talk,” he says, teeth against skin, dripping finger pressing into your ass. “For thirty-one minutes, talk about your past selves.” His finger sinks in deeper, the sweet stretch and sweeter pleasure filling you. “And for the last minute I’ll take a tooth.”

“Sure thing, doc.”

“Quill.” The sound of your name on his lips like that nearly makes you cum. It’s the same tone he uses, the same lie of disinterest, the same exhausted aggravation hurled at everyone else. It’s clipped and demanding, having no patience for anything but acquiescence.  “Use my name.”

The relentless pleasure of his fingers on the heels of that sound, had you nearly drooling on the desk. Before you could form any kind of word the orgasm rolls over you, dancing through your skin and rattling your teeth.

You reach behind yourself and Oleander clasps your two hands in his free one. You sag into the desk, breathing heavy just from the warm up. Face flushed, voice full of notes of pleasure you say his name. Sweet and thick and sticky like warm honey, it’s a sensation that licks at his brain in ways he’s not used to.

Oleander’s fingers flinch against your hands. You lost count of how many times he made you cum that day. All you know for sure was that you passed out so hard your body changed twice, and he extracted pleasure from you all over again and again.

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

Part 5 (Two more parts to go >.> )

Summary: Quill makes a deal with Oleander. They like assisted orgasms more than solo play, and are willing to answer his questions about them in exchange for a good lay. Oleander agrees.

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission. (I would like to note, for the record, that Blue is an incredible enabler.)

CW: Gender Unknown Quill, tentacles (magic), semi-public sex, At least two marines didn't sign up for this shit, master/pet dynamics, Oleander doesn't like being called "Daddy Ollie", mdni

Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3 -:- Part 4 -:- Part 5 (YAH!) -:- Part 6

“Fuck, fuck, kuh-cum, I’mma cum, Ollie, please, let-let me!” Oleander grunts something positive sounding enough your body tenses within the mass of magic and you cum hard.

All you did was make a remark about how using his magic would probably be a better flex than just flexing the manna.

All he did was ask if you cared if people saw your face so long as they couldn’t see your private parts.

The writhing mass of magic looks like something that’s a mix between webbing and tentacles, and it currently has you pinned against the books behind Oleander’s desk. He’s devoted most of his attention to his work, but you have more of it than you needed.

His magic is warm, opaque, and wet. The wriggling mass is fucking, massaging, kissing and stroking every part of you it can find and the stimulation is intense. Three orgasms in and you didn’t give a shit who walked through the door at this point.

Aside from your face, the only things anyone else could see were your fingers - usually twined through his magic - and your feet, which were located near your hands. You weren’t quite folded in half beneath the magic, but close enough. Your white hair is sticky against sweaty skin, and when the first Captain enters you keep your eyes on Oleander.

There is no reprieve for you as he converses with the captain. The poor fellow’s gaze keeps flitting to you, but the most he gets from Oleander is that you’re up there by your own free will, and to focus on the report. You nod along with Oleander, keeping your eyes on the back of his head.

You’re blissed out, but maybe not enough to face some random marine’s gaze.

The longer the debrief went, the more you were struggling to stay quiet. There wasn’t anything set between you and Oleander that you needed to be quiet, but you automatically asking for permission to cum unprompted, and you didn’t want this marine to hear you orgasm.

But in another minute you weren’t going to be able to hold it back.

Your fingers and toes curl, and you bite on your lips, trying desperately to cum as quietly as possible. Save for a very small whimper you manage it, but once you’ve enjoyed the whole thing the magic stills, and Oleander stands up from his desk.

Two round circles look over at you.

“You didn’t ask permission.” He says flatly.

Oleander had been taking control of making you cum because he needed the currency to get his questions answered. At least so you had assumed, but this action was nothing more than dominating. There was no reason for him to want you to ask for permission.

And that was entirely too hot.

“I… I didn’t want to interrupt.” Your voice is shivering as his behavior is already throwing your body toward another orgasm despite that the only thing wriggling is you.

“Mm.” The magic begins to work you over again, while Oleander keeps staring at you. “Apologize to the captain.”

“I.. I’m s-.”

“Apologize to him, not me.”

“To, to,” you could feel the heat rush into your face and you willed yourself to look at this random man standing in Oleander’s office. The marine Captain looked almost as flustered as you. “Sorry, m’sorry, I - I shouldn’t have, um, cum… without… permission.” You manage, struggling to keep your gaze on him as the mass began to wriggle again.

“Uh…”

“Captain Sharinguru,” Oleander says, still looking at you. “Do you forgive it?”

“It?” The marine questions.

“Are you insulted by the appellation, pet?” Oleander prompts you, and you shake your head. You’re ready for him to just pull you off the bookshelves and rail you on the desk in front of Captain Sharing-is-caring or whatever his name is, after he called you pet so casually.

“Good. Now then Captain.” Oleander says again, turning toward him. “Answer the question.”

“Ques… ah, uh… forgive it?”

The wriggling mass begins to fuck you properly again and you moan as the pleasure begins to soak into your skin. There’s a long, awkward for the Captain, minute as you’re brought to the brink, and this time you don’t hesitate.

Even though there’s nothing to interrupt.

“M-Master,” you husk.

“It’s Vice-Admiral, pet.”

“Vice-Ad-Admiral, please, let me cum.” You beg. You’d lick his fucking shoes right now if you could, but hells and demons you aren’t going to say that much. “Please, I won’t miss asking ah-again.”

Oleander seems to be considering it, and you can’t help the whine as you struggle against letting it overtake you. The magic is getting more accurate and you feel yourself losing.

“Plea-.”

“Cum, pet.” He interrupts your plea and you sink into the orgasm, babbling breathy thank yous as the magical mass pushes your body into its fourth orgasm of the day.

Oleander finishes his conversation with the Captain who leaves as fast as he can manage, you’re certain. The Vice-Admiral’s attention returns to his paperwork and you enjoy your position until the next marine enters.

You don’t know the ranks by looking, but you don’t give a shit about them either. Even if you weren’t half fucked out of your mind you wouldn’t care. Oleander was giving this one the same attention and energy he gave the last one. Whoever he was, he was practically staring at you compared to the other.

Something about the way he stared was messing up your pleasure blob time.

“… Daddy Ollie, he’s staring.” You pout the words, giving what could only be a drunken scowl to the marine, whose eyes have gone wide at the title you used for Oleander.

“Don’t stare at my project, Captain.” Oleander says flatly.

This captain doesn’t last long, he’s leaving as you’re begging Oleander to let you cum again. He denies you, edging you until the next marine comes in almost twenty minutes later. He made you swear you’d never call him “Daddy Ollie” again and smushed your cheeks in his hand, making you look at the new marine as you came.

He gave you a break after that, his magic massaging your muscles and slowly moving your limbs. Once he was done with the marine you came out of the mass of magic and got to stretch and walk around. A meal, a few questions, and a bathroom break and then he hits you with a joke.

“Ready to hit the books again?” He says it so matter-of-fact that it takes you a moment and you snort.

“A joke, doc? You’re just full of surprises.”

“Mm.” There’s a hint of irritation in his tone this time.

“I… have a suggestion, if you’d like to up the concentration factor.” You say, pulling his chair away from his desk and crawling under it. You fit yourself in the space how you’d need and open your mouth, letting your tongue hang out as you look up at him.

“Just be careful,” you grin, since it looks like he’s okay with the idea. “If you dislocate my jaw I’m not answering any questions for a week.”

Magic forms up around you, giving you a comfortable, squishy, warm mass to relax into as Oleander sits down and uses more magic to pull his chair in. He undoes his belt and pants, a toothy, interesting grin on his face.

“I’d never abuse a pet that way.” He promises.

So he says, but you’re sure he thought about it when, after about an hour, you realized you could deep throat that anaconda if you were careful. And so you did, playing with him relentlessly for the entire forty minute snail call he had with his superior.

Credit where it’s due, he painted the back of your throat white twice during the call and never missed a beat.

[quill-and-again]

A Moment - Oleander Folderol

Part 4

Summary: Quill makes a deal with Oleander. They like assisted orgasms more than solo play, and are willing to answer his questions about them in exchange for a good lay. Oleander agrees.

Oleander belongs to @sanjis-all-blue and has been utilized with permission.

CW: Female-Mode Quill, extreme size difference, oral, ...thumbing?, mdni

Part 1 -:- Part 2 -:- Part 3 -:- Part 4 (YAH!) -:- Part 5

Half-Ass Illustration included - please note it's not explicit, but it is suggestive.

The last few days were a blur of questions and answers with Oleander. He had gone easy on you for a day after railing you into oblivion, but the questions had been almost without end.

You told him that you considered your first life, life 0, and had been counting up since then. This was the first time where you knew the world, but not yourself, but it wasn’t the first time your body changed under certain conditions. You only spoke objectively about the experiences - recounting simple details like what age you were when you died, what it was like transitioning between lives, and relating those worlds to this one, since it was Oleander’s only frame of reference.

While he questioned and queried, you studied in your own way.

Magic wasn’t unknown to you. Almost six centuries as an elf, and you knew magic more intimately than Oleander could hope to. If he could use it, so could you. But asking him to teach you was out of the question. So you were going to have to do whatever you could.

That meant sneaking a read of his books, learning from observation, and good old brute force try-until-it-works.

At least escaping the jar was just a matter of haki, and haki had been easy enough. You knew this world and had a decent idea of how it worked. It wasn’t too different from breathing techniques from other stories and worlds, so you had a solid chunk of knowledge regarding the function.

Oleander was going to be gone for a solid hour today. You know because he was complaining about it even as the poor sucker who got duped into fetching him was practically begging him to just come along. Prisoner transfer from another marine vessel. Lots of pomp and circumstance and paperwork.

The downside to your little jar break was that you couldn’t manipulate manna enough to undo the size transmutation. But manipulating the size of living things was tricky, manipulating non-living objects was far easier.

Oleander’s manna was always moving. He was always working it, and even though he seemed far more inclined to utility-styled applications instead of destructive ones, his capacity was impressive. Because of that you had a solid idea of how it worked as well. Manna inside the jar was scarce, but outside of it there was an abundance.

Either because no one else was using it, or because Oleander’s constant use of it had saturated his living spaces.

Hard to say.

But it made it easier for you whatever the reason. In twenty minutes time you had enough control over it to bring down a book from the shelves, and flip through it. The magic doing for you what you couldn’t do at your current size.

Biology, herbalism, a treatise on elements and their properties, a book on music theory, and lots of medical books. After a few moments you just start scanning titles, hoping to narrow down what you’ll go after the next time you get the chance to read without being interrupted.

Pushing the 100th book back into place, you can feel the exertion getting to you. Oleander was always flexing, and his stamina wasn’t anything to balk at. Magic wasn’t tied to physical strength when you used it as an elf, but it could sap your stamina like anything else if you didn’t mind the flow.

Practice, you were out of practice. Out of practice fucking, out of practice with magic, out of practice with fighting. You were grateful you were in a body that had no obvious issues, aside from changing how to it was shaped every bloody time you slept, but you wish you knew what you’d been doing for 20 or so years before now.

Turning toward the jar, you regard it for a moment and then just shake your head.

“Nope.” Not getting back up there. Not gonna get yourself back inside.  You use the last of your energy to shuffle around things on his desk, and then plop down in the middle of it and sleep.

-:-

Meetings were always a pain, but the irritation of them was worse since he came across his newest distraction. Leaving you unattended was also a small concern. There was something about you that was more capable than you let on.

The conversation about you being a reincarnator was something he was still trying to decide if he believed. Magic, souls, devil fruits and such were rather unbelievable on their own, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe someone could bounce around realities like that.

But as much as you had told, he felt like there was more you were holding back. He wanted to know everything he could about you, and if that meant forcing pleasure into your body as payment, then so be it. The way you squirmed and the noises you made were, at the least, not annoying to him, so it was hardly a chore.

Closing the door behind him, Oleander immediately knew something was wrong. Nothing changed in him outwardly, but his eyes took in the entire room. You weren’t in your jar. His desk was in disarray. Something else was wrong, but when he saw you asleep on his desk, all of 4 inches tall, curled around a pen, he found he wasn’t concerned.

For a split second he was ready to tear the ship apart in order to find you, but there you are.

Little Menace.

Stepping around the desk, all the disarray begins to right itself, save for the pen you’re wrapped around. Oleander sits down, regarding you for a long moment. You answered his questions, didn’t fear him, and if anything else about him put you off you hadn’t shown it.

Did other lives lived give you such grace? Or was it merely apathy beneath a thick layer of physical desire?

A twirl of his finger lifts your body up off the pen and into the air. Your size expands as he moves you to his hand, making you just a little bit bigger. Big enough you barely fit in the palm of his hand, your head cradled against his fingers, legs dangling on either side of his thumb. A puff of air raises the simple linen you wear, and the pad of his thumb presses against your slit.

A little pressure, an idle rubbing motion with his thumb. He watches you intently. There’s work to do, more than he cares to deal with, but this requires his full attention.

It doesn’t take long before the soft pleasure he’s rolling into you rouses you from your sleep. The soft breath of pleasure slips your lips, and wakefulness begins to grip you.

“Oleander…” you murmur the word on the edges of awareness. Your fingers pressed against his and it takes only a few more seconds before you realize your situation.

“Hey doc,” you sigh, sinking into his palm. Ever smaller than him was the norm, certainly, but this was a bit extreme.

“Mm.” Still not afraid of him, intriguing.

“Th-think up some questions while you were gone?” You question, letting yourself sink into the pleasure he was granting you.

“One question for now.” He clarifies. “Though I didn’t have it in mind until I returned.”

Oleander moves you easily, hooking one of your legs over his pinkie, and the other over his thumb. The position forced your legs wide open, to the point that the stretch made your legs ache. His fingers curled, holding you snugly in place as he looms over you.

“How did you get out of the jar?”

“I… I…” You were willing to answer him, you really were, but Oleander’s lips parted and for a second you thought he was simply going to swallow you whole. Instead his tongue slipped out from behind his teeth as he brought you closer to his mouth.

The tip pressed against your slit, pushing your labia aside easily as the lewd muscle bullied your clit. The entire situation, from the size difference, to the almost tender act shorts your brain. The position has you stuck. You can’t reach out to him, you can’t close your legs, you’re nearly bound, and if there’s one weakness you have it’s being restrained.

“Ollie, Ollie, gods and demons, le-let me, let me,” your weak protests fail as you let your head fall back and just moan.

“Mm.” You’re beginning to love and detest that sound. Oleander brings you closer, the tip of his tongue teasing against the entrance of your cunt, as the sheer size of it allowed him to keep teasing your clit.

Your legs flex, your toes curl. The sensation is impossible and your brain can’t sort it out except that the pleasure of it is overwhelming. The over-powering sensation is mingling with how inescapable the situation is, and you’re too exhausted from earlier to put up any kind of resistance.

Not the resistance had been your intent at any point in all of this.

“Cum! I’mma cum!” You cry out and his tongue moves a little faster shoving you over the edge until what little motion you have available to you is being used to rut your leaking cunt into his tongue.

Oleander rides you through your orgasm, before sweeping a hand across his desk and scattering everything except your jar. The magic wrapped around the items stacks them neatly on the ground around the desk, and he sets you on it, returning you to your original size.

Your legs are forced on either side of his hips. His hands are on the desk on either side of your shoulders. The wide round lenses of his glasses leering down at you, hiding the far more interesting eyes behind them.

“How did you escape, little menace?”