The midday sun filters through the mansion windows, casting soft golden rays across the tiled floor. In the washroom, Empress Boa Hancock stands at a basin, sleeves rolled up, delicately rinsing one of your shirts—her royal hands now used to scrubbing your laundry.

She doesn’t complain anymore. Not out loud, anyway. In fact, she's been oddly diligent lately—folding with precision, keeping your shirts separate from the others, even adding a bit of her own floral soap so they "don’t smell like a wild animal." Though secretly... she kind of liked the wild scent.

She’s humming softly, lost in thought, wide hips swaying absently as she works—when you walk in.

You don’t say anything.

You just come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist in a slow, grateful hug, pulling her back against your chest.

She squeals—a sweet, sharp gasp that escapes before she can even process it.

Her hips shift instinctively—and her hands grip the wet fabric just a little tighter.

"Y-You brute!" she stammers, face burning red, her breath hitching when you lower your face and bury it in her hair. ”D-Don’t sneak up on me like that! I—I’m the Empress, I don’t get hugged from behind by men!"

But your arms are tight around her, and you inhale deeply.

Her scent is soft—floral with a hint of spice—and she can feel your breath at her neck. She pretends to be furious, but her knees feel weak from how masculine you smell: that earthy musk, clean sweat, and something she’s never quite put her finger on.

She’s rarely smelled a man up close before. Not like this. Not so raw.

Your nose was buried in the back of her head, inhaling her scent.

“I-I’m not some… some flower for you to sniff!” she shouts, voice way too high-pitched to sound threatening. ”You... idiot! Pervert! Mashed-brain man!”

But her voice is soft. Her body isn’t moving.

You made the Snake Princess squeal, flinch, and melt... and she doesn’t even know how to make you stop.