Hallo and welcome back! Hope you all had a nice start to 2020!

The brute is not cute, especially not since his weird offers -or are they challenges?- make Perona think about her body in a way she hadn't before and she doesn't like it. But just maybe he is kinda cu- nope, not cute!

Three days later she had bought condoms. Not because she wanted to do it with him, of course, but if he were to attack her like the brutish animal he was, maybe she could convince him to slip it on? Who knew where the mutt had been before and also, if he wore a condom, his disgusting thing wouldn't have to actually touch her disgusting thing. Win win.

They were cute. Pink and with cherry flavour. She wasn't really sure what they would need flavour for, but she had smelled the box and they definitely smelled better than he did.

The old woman in the store had been obnoxious to say the least. In the end she had bought all the toys she had recommended and five bottles of cola to go with them, just to get out of there without another pinch of her rosy cheeks or comments about how lucky the man -or woman- she had chosen was to get such a doll. That they would love her cute little virgin kitty… She had really wanted to put her on her knees with her negative hollows but somehow she'd been afraid that she would have enjoyed it… also, Mihawk-chan had asked her to keep a low profile. In retrospect, asking the woman for advice had been a real mistake, that had invited very very detailed and … she shivered in disgust. She wouldn't do any of those things with the brute. Absolutely not, thank you very much!

Also, there was nothing cute about her kitty.

She angled the mirror a little further. Her hair was darker down there. Thicker. And not cute and soft like the hair on her head. Her skin was darker, too, not the pretty pale white she had everywhere else.

The mirror slipped from her freshly manicured fingers and clattered to the floor when a brutish fist started pounding against the bathroom door and she kicked her cute black and pink polkadot panties under the counter in an instant. A whole, giant castle and old man Mihawk insisted they share one bathroom because it wouldn't be economical… Why couldn't he share a bathroom with the brute? She was a lady, of course she needed more time every now and again!

"What do you want?!" she snapped while ripping open the door with such ferocity that he stepped away from her. Damn right he did.

"What do you think I want? You bitch about me being sweaty and bloody at dinner all the time." He snarked and shoved past her only to stay rooted to the spot as soon as he was in.

She followed his line of sight. the shards of broken mirror on the floor, the bit of polka dotted fabric peeking from under the sink. Oh god.

"The fuck have you been doing in here?"

"Nothing!"

She couldn't even find the energy to hollow him. Just why did that have to happen to her? Why hadn't she just ordered him away like she would have normally done? Why had she jumped as if it wasn't her goddamn right to look at her own hairy kitty? And if it was her right why was she blushing like that? What was wrong with her?

He walked in towards the sink, mirror crunching under his dirty boots and oh god, why hadn't she brought that bag into her room after shopping? What if he'd- she'd make him wish for rebirth as a flee for weeks if he dared touching that bag!

He sat down on the closed toilet seat instead, nodding to the fresh wound on his left shoulder. "Do you mind? I can't see shit there."

Oh right. She begged her heart to ease its hectic rhythm and tiptoed around the scattered shards on the floor to get the emergency kit from behind the mirror. Spraying the needle and the wound with alcohol she dove right in. Yes, this was way better than explaining. This she was used to, patching him up in utter silence. This was good. Like a thousand times before. Nothing was different. Absolutely nothing. His body heat definitely didn't suddenly feel inviting instead of revolting, his stench was just as disgusting and absolutely didn't make her stomach flutter. Oh thank god she was sitting on his blind side.

"So, were you trying to shave or so-" the rest of his question was morphed into a very undignified and very not cute scream from where she might have pushed the needle too deep and might have maybe hit a nerve or something. She wouldn't know, she was used to sewing stuffed animals. "None of your business," she snapped and he was at least bright enough to shut up while she was closing the cut.

Maybe she should have just asked him. He seemed to know enough, and no matter how not cute and how brutish he was he couldn't possibly be any worse than that obnoxious old hag from the store.

"I bought condoms," she said. And he didn't laugh at her, or huff, or scoff, just sat there. So quiet that for a moment she wondered if he had even heard.

"And?" He asked, as if waiting for more details.

"And the woman was horrible. Asked about the size and suddenly she got really excited and started gushing about all the things she would do with that, and I didn't even know about half of what she said and then she started talking about how that would be so happy with such a cute little virgin kitty and I …" she stopped. She hadn't intended to say all that. Yes, she had played with the thought of asking him, but telling him about such an embarrassing encounter? He didn't laugh. "And you…?" he asked instead. His voice serious and she was really grateful that he didn't look at her.

"And I really can't see anything cute about that." she knew she was pouting and she knew she shouldn't be. Not because of that and not in front of him. But in this moment… it was weird, and she would probably hate herself for it later. At the latest when he would start to tease her about her insecurities. But as he was right now, all serious and calm, she felt like it was safe to talk to him.

Maybe it was because it felt like a weird quid pro quo? She stitched his body back together and he'd help her glue that shattered image she had of herself back together?

If that lady talked about cute kitties that meant they were cute in general. So how could hers be not cute? Of all the kitties in this world, how was hers an ugly, hairy, smelly, wrinkled mess? She loved cute things, why couldn't she be cute down there?

She had looked through the picture books and magazines at the shop and while the kitties there weren't really cute either, they weren't nearly as bad as hers, they were tiny and clean. Not that hers was dirty, other than some of her cohabitants she did shower everyday, but it wasn't as orderly. Not as white and rosy. And she did suspect that it might be because they were hairless, but how would she even start shaving all that mess? As cute as scars were on stuffed animals and admittedly on grumpy swordsmen, she didn't want any! And why hadn't she thought about stuff like that while she had still been on Thriller Bark where she had lived with other women that at least at some point had been alive and in human bodies?

On the other hand… she peeked over at him and briefly wondered why he was still here. She was done with his wound five minutes ago… he had probably seen more kitties than the average woman, right?

"And why the fuck would it have to look cute?"

She groaned. Of course the idiot brute wouldn't understand! "Because I'm cute and nothing on me is supposed to be any different!" she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and he laughed at her for the first time since coming in. That bastard.

He turned towards her, fierce and not cute grin stretching over his lips as he got right into her face. "There's absolutely nothing cute about you."

She huffed again. As if that brute knew anything about cuteness.

"And it doesn't look like in the magazines," she muttered under her breath, hoping against hope that he was at least a halfway decent human being. His eye widened before he scoffed in her face.

"Not even the women in the magazines look like the women in the magazines. No guy will give a fuck, but if looking more like them makes you feel better, shave," he said with an air of nonchalance she wouldn't have attributed to him. As if it wasn't a big deal. As if he really didn't care what she looked like down there. But he had told her that he wanted her, so he should care… or had he just played with her, teased her?

He didn't seem intelligent enough for deceit. Maybe he had given up? And why the hell did she even care? He was not cute at all and he was no prince to free her from this place of infinite boredom. All he wanted from her was temporal entertainment, because even if he were cute, which he wasn't, this couldn't last. He would return to his crew in little over a year and never think of her again. That was fine. Great even. She didn't want to be stuck with a grouch like him.

Or did he really not care that it was disgusting?

"I don't know how," she admitted.

He sighed and got up towards the sink. Grabbed a can of shaving cream and the razor he used to put the wiry stubble from his face all over the sink in the mornings, always mindful not to clean it up afterwards.

"Well are you gonna take off that skirt or what?" he asked and she sputtered. What the- ? How dare he? Why would she undress in front of him?! Had he forgotten, that she didn't wear pan- she looked at the shaving utensils in his boorish hands… Oh no, he wouldn't!

What even made him think she would let him of all people do something like that?!

"Don't you come near me with that stuff! There's no way I'd ever undress in front of a brute like you! You're not even remotely cute enough to even be considered worthy of touching me anywhere, much less there!"

He just stood there, stupid grin plastered on his face, and let her rant. Let her count off all the disgusting things about him, loud enough to drown out the little voice in her head that maybe it was a just tiny little bit cute that he wanted to make her feel better, albeit with his perverted ways.

"You know the more you bitch about me the more it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself," he drawled when she was done. Not that she'd ever be done, the list went on for ages, but she needed to breathe in her physical body, and he definitely wasn't right with that assumption. There was no need to convince herself. He was a brute, simple as that. He was not cute. And she only wanted cute.

Then why had her fingers already started undoing the cute little bow at her back?

The skirts fell to the floor and she was pretty sure that despite all the things going on inside her head, if he had looked now she would have hollowed his ass to tomorrow. But he didn't, held her gaze as he came over to sit down next to her. Back against the tub and in direct line to the floor length mirror mounted on the bathroom door.

She sat down between his legs without prompting and it bugged her to no end. She could see them in the mirror, how small she was compared to him. His bare chest visible on both sides of her body, her skin so pale in contrast to his. He looked evil. A looming presence behind her. Predator with his pray. It was probably the eye. It kinda made him look menacing, even while asleep… not that she had watched him in his sleep. Despite all that he looked serene and she couldn't help but still feel safe. She hated it. He was right. She should find him disgusting. Revolting. He wasn't cute, he was rugged and harsh and ...

She sighed. "Get on with it already, and don't you dare cut me!"

He chuckled and she could feel his hot chest brush against her back. It should make her skin crawl. Didn't.

"I'm pretty good with blades," he bragged and she rammed her elbow in hard and unforgiving muscle. "Tell that to your other eye."

He scoffed, "Brat. I'm gonna have to look at you. And touch you. Is that alright?"

Well duh. Of course he had to. But he didn't move, apparently waiting for more than just a huff and a lift of her shoulders. "Yeah fine!" She hated that she sounded pouty.

"Would be real helpful if you spread your legs, too."

Well it would, wouldn't it? She couldn't possibly… spreading her legs for a brute like him… that's not what cute girls did.. But…

She closed her eyes and let her legs fall to the sides, bumping against his. God this was embarrassing! She didn't even want to see his reaction!

"You're fine," he rumbled behind her and her eyes snapped open, searching his in the mirror only to see it staring right between her legs. Blood rushed to her cheeks as if she hadn't already been blushing the whole time. Idiot.

He put those rough hands on her shoulders and pushed her back to rest against his chest, and she seized immediately. It wasn't supposed to feel so comfortable.

"Relax, will you?" He sprayed the cream into one hand and lathered it up to a foam. "I'll touch you now."

And he did, both his warm hands laying flat against her folds and her hips bucked right up against them of their own volition. She gasped at the sudden jolt, at the butterflies in her stomach, at the heat around her. This was not good.

He didn't laugh at least, and she clenched her eyes shut again and turned her head, inadvertently burying her nose against hard pectoral that wasn't cute at all, but for some reason smelled absolutely devine right now despite the ardorous workout he just came from. She held her breath as he worked the foam over the coarse pink locks, doing her best not to react to his touches. Not to tilt and turn into them.

He stretched behind her, reached for the tub's faucet to clean his hands and she chanced a glance. By propping her against him her hips had tilted… He had seen everything! Even her other hole that was that disgusting brownish colour and not the cute pink she'd seen in the magazines! She was just about to bolt when his arms came back around her. His head resting on her shoulder to look down between her legs.

"Stop squirming. I told you, you're fine," he rumbled, and she believed him! Just what was becoming of her? She believed him, quite obviously trusted him and … no, she did not find him cute. He still wasn't cute. Not at all. He was a brute!

He pulled her skin taunt and ran the razor over skin, and she couldn't help but wonder if those secure strokes were only the result of his own routine or if he had done this before? On a woman? Was that a thing? Shaving other people? Wasn't that dangerous? It took her brain a bit too long to catch up with the frantic beating of her heart. Yes it was! What had she been thinking letting an idiot down there with a blade? An idiot with no depth perception at that?

"You know, for most I've met this fear of getting cut is part of the fun," he chuckled behind her, vibrations from his chest running right there where his hands were lying idle. If that was supposed to be fun, why had he stopped? "Doesn't seem to be your kink though, does it? I told you, I won't cut you."

How did he do that? He was dense as a rock the best of times, without her he'd still be puzzling out the message his captain had given him. So how could he zero in on her emotions like that and placate them as if she actually trusted him? He never seemed to understand her any other time! It didn't matter really, because as soon as he said it she had relaxed back into his chest with nothing more than a huff and watched his hands work between her legs. It was infuriating.

He was efficient, he had not once touched her in a way that wasn't necessary to move the razor. Even when he had cupped her stuff and pushed it to the side, an action that had definitely not made her belly flutter and her cheeks redden even more. Stuff that in the magazines was barely visible if at all, no matter how much the women spread their legs. He hadn't even hesitated touching her there, as if it was normal to look like that…like some naked slug… a shiver ran down her arms and this time it had nothing to do with the way he touched her… disgusting.

As per usual, the barbarian didn't care about the mess he left behind and took the showerhead to rinse her off, right where they were, on the bathroom floor. Foamy water and hair running across tiles and her disgust and irritation spiked when she realized that she'd be the one to clean it up. It was enough to forget that now with the foam gone she was completely bare for him to see. Enough that she didn't know what he wanted from her when he turned her head from the mess on the tiles towards the mirror across from them.

But she saw. Saw herself like she had never seen herself before and she hadn't even looked down. Her cheeks flushed, lips parted, hair damp, pupils wide. She did look a bit like the women in the magazines. That cocky grin of his showed her that he saw it too. His grey eye tore away from hers in the mirror, lazily trailing down, beckoning her eyes to follow, but she wasn't ready for that.

He chuckled that infuriatingly charming chuckle again when she put both her hands in front of her eyes before angling her head down. She didn't want to see, felt the heat of embarrassment on her face, even in her ears.

"Figured that mortification would be cuter on you than fear," he rumbled behind her and she did not flush at the backhanded compliment. What was wrong with that guy? What type of woman did he get in bed with that crude charm? What type of woman did he want, acting like that?

Never mind the fact that she had just returned from buying condoms that should fit like a charm according to the insufferable hag in the shop.

Spreading her fingers she tentatively opened one eye to take a careful peek.

Oh. It was… prettier? Didn't look as dark, as wild, even though the stuff was more visible than before. Her folds, her lips, it wasn't normal that they were big like that, right? But with him it might be helpful? She knew where she should be able to feel the most pleasure from, where zombie nurse had liked it best and where the hag had advised her to touch… where his rough hands had made her hips jump.

They've been together on this island long enough that she knew that if she actually wanted to do it with him the fact that her stuff wasn't as tiny and pretty as in the magazines was an advantage, because she was pretty sure it would be awkward enough without him getting lost on her body. Was that why he had left that patch of pink hair above it? For orientation?

For a moment she thought the glistening right in the middle was pretty… then she realised that it was not water from rinsing off and she closed her legs and buried her head in her hands again. What were the chances that he hadn't seen it? Oh god, oh god this was humiliating and it would definitely go to his head. No chance he'd let her live that down!

There was a soft nudge against her inner thighs and she didn't even resist. He had seen and now was time for him to gloat, with or without that visual aid.

"Now I may not be an expert on cuteness, but with or without that ridiculous pink hair, that's a damn fine cunt."

Whether the new burst of redness on her cheeks came from mortification about his crass assessment of her private parts or from fury about a grasshead -and by now she was pretty sure that the grass started where the brain should be- picking on her cute pink curls she didn't know, but she jumped from the floor, shoving a perfectly manicured finger in his chest to seethe right in his face. Then she saw the bulge in his pants and all the fight left her.

Maybe, just maybe, it was a 'damn fine cunt'. Didn't stop her from sending three Negative Hollows his way to bask in his pitiful wishes for an untimely death because he wasn't worth walking the same earth she did, while she grabbed her new purchases and marched out of the bathroom.

I really wasn't sure about this chapter, if I should actually go through with this idea. I thank Ghost and Lachanophobic for emotional support and encouragement, check out her work if you can find it in you to read Dragonball, she's an amazing writer and friend!

Thanks to Ghost for beta reading!

Please let me know what you think about this chapter!

See you next week!