#n.sfw links

[daisynik7]

[F4M] You Leave a Naughty Voicemail for Your Husband While He Works Overtime [Established Relationship][Mutual Masturbation][Car Sex][Sub to Soft Dom][Breeding Kink][Mating Press][No Thoughts][Brain Empty][Just Fucking]

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.6k

cw: established relationship, p*rn without plot, smut –  PIV sex (cowgirl, missionary, mating press, doggy), mutual masturbation, mentions of sex toys, edging, blowjob, car sex, clitoral stimulation, spanking, some spit play, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (sweetie, sweetheart, honey, princess, baby, good girl/boy), slight degradation kink

Summary: You record a naughty voicemail for your husband while he works overtime, leaving him yearning for more. Author’s Note: Hiya friends! Breaking my tumblr hiatus temporarily to post this. Consider this a sequel/part 2 to my other fic inspired by more NSFW audio. Someone gave me the idea to do a fic with the roles reversed, so here it is! Had a blast writing this, so I hope you enjoy! Bonus: here are some NSFW audios that inspired it (of course, they’re AugustInTheWinter): Link 1, Link 2 (reddit links, 18+). Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated, thanks so much for reading! Header image from the manga On Doorstep (it's BL and the MC looks like Nanami, I highly recommend). MDNI banner created by @/mikeykuns.

It’s past eleven when Nanami steps out of the conference room with the rest of his colleagues, having just finished the last team meeting of the day. He was asked to work overtime to help fix any remaining issues before the end of the fiscal year, which is in a few days. Normally, he’d never agree to this, but with your wedding anniversary approaching in a month, he wants the extra income to buy you that gold chain bracelet you’ve had an eye on. 

With all his tasks complete for the day, he can finally leave. He gathers his belongings, checking his phone to see the missed call and voicemail you left him about an hour ago. She must be asleep already, he thinks, not bothering to call you back. When he gets in his car, he props his phone to the mount, ready to listen to your voicemail on Bluetooth while he drives home. He presses play as soon as he pulls out from his parking spot.

“Kento.” Your voice is hushed and breathy. “I miss you.”

Nanami clenches his jaw, already aroused by your sultry tone. He grips the steering wheel tighter, glancing at the phone screen to check the length of the voicemail: three minutes. That’s the limit before it cuts you off. And while the ride home is a mere ten, he has a feeling it will be excruciatingly long by the way this message is already playing. 

You sigh. “I miss you so much, Kento.” There’s rustling in the background; Nanami imagines that you’re turning over in bed, under the covers. What are you wearing right now? The cute flannel pajamas he bought you two years ago for Valentine’s Day? Or the lingerie set you purchased yourself to surprise him for your most recent anniversary? At this rate, for his own sanity, he’s not sure which one he prefers. 

“I can’t wait till you get home, honey. I’m so…” Your voice is heavy with lust; he can see the provocative face you’re making as you squeeze the phone to your ear, reaching between your legs to that throbbing pussy. “I’m so horny right now. I wish you were here.” If he listens closely, he can hear the squelch of fingers flicking your clit rapidly. “But since you’re not, is it okay if I touch myself?”

He’s tempted to slam on the gas and fly through the city to get to you in record time. Break all driving violations and his own personal morals to watch you play with yourself. It’s torture, sitting behind this red light, following the rules, listening to you moan into the phone, so needy and desperate for his cock. What’s worse is that you’re ovulating this week; he knows how pent up you must be from his absence tonight. Fertile and in heat, that wet sloppy cunt begging to be filled with his seed. He promised he’d make it up to you tomorrow morning, but why waste this perfectly good opportunity? Especially when you’re practically begging for it. 

“Remember how good you fucked me last night? How you pinned me down by the wrists? How tightly I squeezed my legs around you as you pumped me full of cum?” It’s all Nanami thought about when he wasn’t focused on work today. Enough to force him into the men’s room to jerk himself off, fantasizing about it. Replaying your wanton moans ringing in his ears, the way your body convulsed around him, that adorably dumb expression on your face while you were getting fucked into oblivion. Normally, he’d be ashamed of himself at how lewd he was being in a work setting, but the memory of you was too irresistible, even for him. 

He’s not usually perverse like this, but something about you drives him crazy. His hands are typically at 10-and-2, the correct position to steer the wheel. But just this once, he deems it necessary to lose his prim and proper attitude. He drops one into his lap to unbuckle his belt, unzip his pants, and reach down to palm his cock through his briefs. It’s enough to gain a bit of relief from this torment, at least until he’s safely home. Nanami wipes the sweat beading on his brow, accelerating too hard when the light finally switches to green, keeping his grip steady as he strokes his cock, listening intently to your voice surrounding him in the car. 

“Are you hard right now, Kento?” There’s more movement in the background, as if you’re opening and shutting a drawer. Blood rushes into his cheeks, predicting exactly what you’re about to do. “Do you like listening to me touch myself?” There’s a familiar hum now, and he visualizes the pink vibrator buzzing in your hand, the fluttering tip teasing your swollen clit. He’d do anything to teleport directly into the bedroom and have his way with you.  

“I’m so lonely in this bed without you. I’m fucking myself, thinking about you. Wishing it’s you instead of this stupid toy. Can you hear it, sweetie?”

“Yes,” he answers to no one, shoving his underwear down to release his erection, stroking himself faster with his right fist. He’s forced to stop again; how many fucking streetlights does this goddamn city need anyways?! It’s excruciating. 

“My pussy is aching for your big cock.” The buzzing intensifies; you’ve increased the setting one level, on the verge of an orgasm. Typical behavior of his obedient slut of a wife. He loves sliding his fingers inside while you press the vibrator deeper into your clit. He’s obsessed with the way you gush around him, clenching him tighter, addicted to how it tastes on his tongue when he slides those cum-coated digits into his mouth. 

“Hurry home, honey. I’m waiting for you. This pussy is already so wet for you. I’m going to use you as my sex toy tonight.”

“Fuck, I want that. I really want that,” Nanami moans in response, releasing his cock from his grasp, thighs fidgeting from arousal. 

“You love it when I use you, huh? Love it when I fuck you silly until you’re milked dry.”

He groans, bucking his hips into nothing in the seat, briefly losing control of the wheel, causing the car to swerve. “Fuck, I love it, sweetie. I love it. Please.” He’s not sure what he’s begging for. All he knows is that if he doesn’t get home soon, he’ll combust, taking the car down with him. 

“Fuck, Kento. I’m thinking about how deep you hit it from behind. Slapping my ass, treating me like a bad girl, pounding your hips into me like a fucking animal. I get so fucking cock drunk off you. Makes me want to come just talking about it.”

“Then come for me, baby,” he blurts out, fully aware he’s talking to a recording. He’s completely lost it now. 

“Ah, I’m close. I – ” you interrupt yourself with your own whimpers. Nanami listens as he cruises past the speed limit now, wiping the bead of precum at the tip of his cock with his thumb,  edging himself. It’d be a shame for him to waste his load onto his lap. He’s going to give you every fucking drop he has. Build it up so that your pussy is flooding with his hot, sticky mess. 

You whine loudly, “I’m coming, Kento. Ah, I’m coming for you.” You moan into the phone, and Nanami has to release himself to prevent from orgasming too, Then, there’s silence on your end, except for your staggered breaths and occasionally rustling of the sheets beneath you. Eventually, the voicemail ends without another word, and he assumes that you’ve fallen asleep. He smiles to himself, imagining you, his gorgeous wife, with your legs splayed out, vibrator loosely gripped, completely knocked out on the bed. 

He replays the voicemail, continuing to edge himself until he finally pulls into their driveway, opening the garage. He parks, shutting off the ignition, then searches the backseat for the box of tissues, wanting to clean up whatever mess he’s made. Before he gets the chance to, the door leading inside swings open, and it’s you, standing in the door frame in a sheer lingerie nightgown. The same one he expected you’d be wearing tonight. 

He swallows hard, cock still out, stiffer than ever, watching you step towards the driver’s side, bright face peering through the window. You glance to his lap, noticing the lewd sight. 

You tap on the glass, feigning innocence. “Kento?”

He opens the door slowly, face flushed, eyes half-lidded in a daze. “Sweetheart, please.” 

His slacks have been shoved off haphazardly down his legs, engorged cock sprung against his abdomen, precum leaking out the tip. His cheeks are pink, hair tousled, forehead dewy with sweat. You smirk at him, pleased to see that he’s listened to your voicemail. “Oh, honey. Look at you. Have you been a bad boy?” You surround him with your fingers, jerking him slowly. He twitches at your touch, sensitive and aching in your fist. 

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes closed as you stroke him. “No,” he stutters, “I’ve been very good.”

You inspect the car, realizing what he’s trying to convey to you; he hasn’t come yet. “Oh, baby,” you coo, squeezing his cock in your fist. “You’ve been very, very good. My good boy.”

He nods this time, leaning forward for a kiss. “Yes, I’m a good boy for you. I’m your good boy,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Nanami isn’t normally like this, so submissive and needy. But tonight, he has zero hesitation; he’s begging to be dominated, to be used and toyed with. 

You lick into his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip. “Do you want your reward now? Or should we go inside first?”

He won’t last much longer, so he spits out, “Now. Please.”

You smirk, kissing him messily, tongues swirling, swapping spit while his dick pulsates in your palm. “Fuck,” he groans, rocking his hips into you. “I’m going to come if you keep – ” he chokes on his saliva, unable to finish his sentence. 

You giggle, nibbling at his ear lobe. “If I do what, baby?” You want to tease him a bit more, so you bend over his lap, kneeling on the bottom frame of the car, sinking down on him with your mouth. He throws his head back against the headrest, swearing loudly. You blow him until his cock is lubricated with your spit and he’s squirming above you, ready to burst. 

He pulls you off him abruptly, tugging you towards him. “I can’t,” he urges, completely red now, all frenzied and flustered. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Giggling, you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap and smooching his forehead. “Alright, honey. I tormented you enough.” You’re not wearing any panties beneath your nightgown, so when you start to rub yourself on his shaft, his eyes widen in surprise, staring at you, sputtering a mix of curses and nonsense.

You grin, kissing him softly, rocking yourself along his length. “I told you, didn’t I? This pussy is so wet for you. I’ve been prepping myself all night, thinking about you.”

“Fuck, I’m going to come. Put it in, sweetheart. Hurry.”

You guide him in you easily until he bottoms out, sitting on him without moving, licking into his mouth. His hands slide around your hips, holding you tenderly, staying still, melting into your kiss. Before you can start bouncing on him, he squeezes you, huffing, “I’m coming.” 

His dick pulsates, spurting his hot seed deep inside you. You continue to kiss him, smiling against his lips, pleased and satisfied. When he’s finished, you graze his ear. “Good boy.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, brows knit together, eyes shut tight. He opens one to peek at you, embarrassed. “This is your fault.” The blush on his face cascades along his neck. “You knew this would happen when you left me that voicemail.”

Laughing, you give him a smooch on his cheek. “You’re right. I was being bad tonight. Are you going to punish me for it?” You tug at his tie, loosening it on his collar, trailing his chest to unbutton his dress shirt. 

He relaxes, smirking as he slaps your ass with his palm, cupping the flesh immediately after. You whine his name at the contact, nuzzling into his neck. “Ah, Kento.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished,” he growls, low and wicked, delivering a fresh smack to the other side. His cock is erect again inside you, stuffing you full once more. “You’re going to take this cock until I can’t get hard anymore. Understand?” He rocks you back and forth on him, thumb pressed at your clit, rubbing small circles. “Until this slutty little cunt is so full of my cum.”

You nod silently, clinging to his shoulders, body trembling with arousal. The switch in demeanor, from him begging you for sweet release to now being domineering and cocky, has you titillating for more. He chuckles, wrapping you in snug embrace, kissing the top of your head. “Look at you, darling. You’re shaking. Let’s go to the bedroom, okay princess?” And his ability to turn on this sweet charm has you softening in his arms, pliant and ready to be played with. 

Soon, you’re inside your bedroom, legs spread wide, some residual cum trickling down the inside of your thighs. He strips his remaining clothes off, cock unbelievable rigid in his fist, jerking himself off to the sight of you in your transparent lingerie, his load leaking from your slit. 

“You’re a fucking slut for getting me worked up like this,” he grunts, hovering over you, tapping the tip of his dick on your swollen clit. “I edged myself the entire drive, saving all this cum for you.”

You bite your lip, holding back the guttural, animalistic moan escaping from within your throat. His confession has you quaking, eager to be filled even more to the brim with his seed, eager to be bred. You can blame it on the fact that you’re currently in heat, or that you’re just this much in love with your husband that you can’t think of anything else you want more in this moment than to be connected with him. You grip the sheets below you, fanning your thighs impatiently, waiting for his cock. “Breed me, honey. Fuck all your cum inside me. I want all of it, every single drop. Hurry.”

Oh how quickly do the roles reverse. 

He slides his cock inside you, his own cum coating it as he pulls out slightly, observing the lewd scene. “Look at how full you are, and it’s still not enough. Such a greedy cum slut.” He spits a frothy wad of his saliva onto your clit, smearing it with his thumb. “You’re going to come on this cock before I give you anything. Got it?”

You nod, closing your eyes, turning your head to the side, losing yourself to the pleasure rippling through your body as he pounds into your pussy, the sensation so intense it resonates all the way down to your toes. He’s so mean, so unlike his usual doting self when he’s in this mood, and you can’t help but succumb to it. He tips your chin back towards him. “Look at it,” he demands. You open your eyes, his expression wild, fucking you faster, his thumb working your clit ruthlessly. “Watch me fuck this messy cunt.” He grips you behind the legs, hoisting you so that your knees are towards your chest, holding you into a mating press. Unable to contain it any longer, you moan loudly, grabbing at your own ankles to keep yourself spread wide for him as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it sweetheart? To be fucked and pounded by me instead of that silly toy. To use me and milk me dry of every last drop. You asked for this. This is what you get for being so fucking naughty.” He rests one of your legs onto his shoulder, turning to smooch the side of your knee, sucking on your skin. 

You continue to moan his name until it’s reduced into a blubber of incoherent cries as you’re pushed over the edge, reaching your climax. “That’s it, come on my cock, princess. That’s a good girl.” Still, he doesn’t ease up; in fact, he fucks you harder, spurred by your orgasm, intent on chasing another. “Just keep taking it, okay beautiful? I know you can do it.” He pounds you into the mattress, the bed creaking noisily beneath you with each solid thrust, perspiration dripping from his body onto yours. You’re no longer thinking clearly; everything is in a haze, blissful and euphoric, only your husband on your brain. He’s fucked all other thoughts out of you. Has you obsessed with his cock, hungry for his cum, keen on him to breed your fertile womb.

“Fuck, Kento, right there! Right there!” you cry out, grasping his hair between your fingers, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. 

“Right there, huh?” he teases, slowing his pace to thrust deep into your G-spot, nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Always taking me so fucking deep.” He grabs your wrist, placing your hand at your clit. “Touch yourself while I fuck you. Squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

You obey him, flicking your sensitive bud with your middle finger while he watches intently, another orgasm fast approaching. You twitch around him, pleasure overtaking your entire body, sending a rush of ecstasy that has you seeing stars. 

Of course, it still isn’t enough for him. Not after what you put him through earlier. “Turn over,” he mutters, pulling out, cum spilling onto the sheets. “You know what to do.”

He’s right; it’s second nature to you now, to throw your ass back and fuck yourself with his cock. All he has to do is kneel behind you with his hard dick out while you swallow him whole, pumping it in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t matter how pliant you feel, or how fucked out you are, tongue lolling out of your mouth, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. You know exactly what to do to get what you want out of him. 

You can feign innocence all you want, pretend to be shocked when he manhandles you like a fucking rag doll, slamming his hips into you, wet slaps bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Shrieking when he presses his rough fingers to your swollen clit. Burying your face into the pillow, muffling your shameless moans and shrieks of, “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” This is what you intended when you spread your legs earlier, phone in your hand, ready to leave that filthy voicemail for him, knowing he’d listen on his way home. Knowing he’d save all his cum for you because you’re ovulating, and he wants more than anything to get you pregnant. Knowing he’d want to fuck you into a frenzy regardless, always desperate to empty his load inside you. It’s what you want because you know he wants it too. That’s what makes it even better, knowing your husband is as feral for you as you are for him. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whispers, voice wavering.

Craning your neck to face him, you murmur, “Want to see you.”

He smiles, pulling out, your pussy fluttering around the emptiness, already eager to be filled again. “I want to see you too, my love.” He flips you over, pushing your knees towards your ears into a deeper mating press, kissing you sweetly on the lips. You wrap your arms around him, whining his name into his ear as he fucks you rough, the bed frame precariously shifting with each plunge of his cock. 

“Fuck, I’m coming,” he groans, cock twitching and spurting every hot pulse inside you. “Take all of my cum, sweetheart. All of it,” he mutters, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you. I love you so much.”

When he finishes, he lowers your legs slowly, rolling beside you to cradle you in his arms. You nestle into his chest, listening to his steadying heartbeat. “Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks, massaging small circles into your back.

You nod against him, remaining silent, too drained to even respond with words. He lets you rest like this for a moment before hopping off the bed, stepping into the bathroom, rummaging through the cupboards. Shortly after, he returns to you with a container of baby wipes in hand and a glass of water in the other. 

You’re a mess down there, sleek, wet, and gushing with slick. He kneels beside you, wiping your forehead first from sweat. You peer up at him, smiling, cupping his cheek. “Thank you,” you mouth to him. With another, he cleans your hands, then your legs, always glancing at you to make sure you’re still doing fine. You’re truly grateful for having a spouse as attentive and as caring as your husband, who, despite his typically stoic disposition, always dotes on you so sweetly. 

Done cleaning you up, he traces the outline of your lips with his thumb, saying, “Drink water, honey.”

You grumble at him, pretending to be asleep. He chuckles, leaning in closer for a kiss. “And go pee.”

You peek at him with one eye open, nuzzling your nose to his. “Okay, fine. But after you hold me for one more minute.”

He smiles, sliding his arms around you. “Anything you want, sweetheart. Anything you want.”

[youre-ackermine]

OFF SCREEN - A collection of SNK Actor AU stories now on AO3

🎬 BEHIND THE SCENES

Pairing: Pikuhan, Levihan

Modern setting / Actor AU / Non-binary Hange / Fake dating / Secret relationship

Warnings: NSFW+18 - MDNI / Swearwords

Chapter One: Behind the Scenes

Rating M - Wordcount: 2.1k - Hange Zoe, Pieck Finger, Levi Ackerman, Armin Arlert

As the SNK cast attend the new episode premiere, Levi helps Hange hide their secret relationship with Pieck

Chapter Two: [coming soon]

Rating: - Wordcount: -

A/N: English is not my usual language // I write non-binary AFAB Hange

Series header & divider: @youre-ackermine

[happybird16]

The little ngh noises he makes and the sighs are going to drive me insane

CD Drama Kiss x Kiss (Kamiya Hiroshi)

I got too flustered a couple minutes in and had to walk away 😳🫣

[sunriseverse]

i Know this looks like a spam link but i swear to god click on it and experience. an Image.

[futurefind]

//ok nvm the js update got my ass </3 ill add new/proper post to her bio once thats fixed dshjdshj

[standfucker]

Breathe Me In

Character: Smoker

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 7.4k

CW: minor injury and first aid (not graphic but stitches are mentioned), explicit N.SFW content, breathplay, inappropriate use of devil fruit powers, hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, mentions of hypothetical pregnancy

Summary: As a woman in the Marines, the path to Read Admiral has been rough, but Smoker's been there for you since the beginning.

Ao3 Link

🎉🎉🎉🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY @zoros-sheath !!!🎉🎉🎉🎉 Hope the 2.5 days of anticipation weren't too rough on you. Good job! You did it! You waited and here it is! Sweet n' spicy and served hot just for you! <3 I love you!

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he pours the disinfectant over the wound on your arm, and your breath turns into a hiss.

“I know,” he says. “Sorry, kid.”

“We’re the same age,” you say automatically, as you always do. Not that it’s ever stopped him, he’s been teasing you with that ever since he learned he was seven months older. “And you don’t need to apologize.”

You can handle a little pain. As a Rear Admiral, this is far from your first rodeo, but you always stay mindful of how you’re appearing to your unit. None of them are in the tent at the moment, though, nor is Smoker one of yours–ranking a spot above you, the Vice Admiral led his own team–but habits were habits.

Both of your units had been assigned to the same mission, which was always a delight. You and Smoker had gone through basic training together and started out in the same unit, but didn’t get to see each other as often once you'd both advanced to the higher ranks. You used to hate how he always seemed to be just a step ahead career-wise. You would advance to his level, share a few months to a year at the same rank, and then he would ultimately earn a promotion, leaving you with the dispiriting sense of being second-best. He had even been in charge of you at one point when he was made Captain of your unit. But despite that, you’d have never made it this far without him in the first place, his competence and strength a point of burning motivation for you.

“Not the same age,” Smoker mutters, the childish banter his attempt to distract you. “I’m thirty-six and a half.”

Since the beginning, there had always been a charged undercurrent to your rivalry. You felt it when you sparred, you felt it when you half-jeered, half encouraged each other during grueling physical fitness tests. You felt it when you ate together, and when you reached down to tap your shared bunk frame at lights-out. You felt it most when, every night, without fail, you’d hear a return tap. Each of you pushed the other to excel as you rose through the ranks, and became better soldiers, and eventually leaders, for it.

The life-and-death battles that came with experience only strengthened your bond. Having each others’ backs in a fight brought a depth of trust that few other situations could, you’d found–it seemed inevitable, then, when your relationship turned physical. Though neither of you were as interested in other people, you weren’t exclusive: A near-death experience on your end made you question the wisdom of such an arrangement with both parties in such high-risk employment. And for years, that was fine with you, and you’d assumed it was fine with Smoker. You would get to see each other when work let your paths cross, and you both made a point to try to spend time together if your vacations overlapped. But at last year’s Marine Ball, Smoker had asked you, flat-out in that direct manner of his, if you would be exclusive with him. You asked for some time to think it over, promising him an answer by the time you next met.

That time happened to be the start of the current mission, a few weeks ago. Smoker made a valiant attempt to hide his pleasure when you told him you accepted. He didn’t smile in front of anyone else, nor did he treat you differently while they were watching, but it still slipped out in other ways. He went noticeably easier on his men, even holding his tongue rather than scolding Tashigi when she lost her glasses again. Watching his unit trying to figure out why their Vice Admiral seemed in such a good mood was a source of great entertainment for you.

Unfortunately for everyone, it didn’t last. The mission ultimately led to a fight with the pirates you’d been hunting, and Smoker had been pissy ever since. In the heat of battle, he didn’t notice an enemy taking aim at him. You did, managing to push him out of the way and getting grazed in the process. It wasn’t serious, but you knew that stubborn chimney would hyperfocus on it for a while, replaying the situation in his head and trying to figure out what he could have done differently.

Smoker’s insistence on treating your wound himself, having gruffly dismissed both medics from the tent, was proof enough of that. 

“Sutures now,” he says.

You could usually tell what he was thinking because you thought the same way. Both of you were quick to blame yourselves, to shoulder the burden because you were strong enough to. His sense of duty and yours could clash at times; you shared that headstrong independence in common. And yet, at the end of the day, your decision to accept his offer had been an easy one. 

More importantly than loving you, Smoker respected you–and you’d like to keep it that way. He was never a dick about gender like many in the Navy could be, but your conduct was always in the back of your head regardless. Not appearing weak was crucial to social survival in this line of work. And so, even though Smoker is safe, you do your best not to react when he starts to stitch. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop a twitch here, a contorting of your face there, and Smoker sighs through his nose, twin plumes of smoke puffing from his nostrils like a dragon. 

“Even after all this time,” he grumbles. "You don’t need to act tough in front of me. You’re just like Tashigi… Or, I should say, Tashigi takes after you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The pain makes you respond a little more snappily than you normally would. You don’t appreciate the implications of him naming the only women he spends time with, for one. For another, you’ve informally adopted Tashigi and will hear no slander toward her, but Smoker surprises you with his response.

“You put on a brave face,” he glances at you for a moment before returning his focus to your wound, “because you have to work twice as hard to gain half as much respect.”

That catches you off guard. As much as you love Smoker, and as sensible as he usually is, that’s not something you’d expect to hear from a man, much less a military man. Neither had you ever felt it necessary to discuss that aspect of your life with him, so you ask, “who told you that?”

“Vice Admiral Tsuru.”

You blink. “What brought on that conversation?”

“It was years ago, when we had our big fight,” Smoker briefly looks up as he recalls it. The continued disrespect of your male peers had reached a boiling point, and Smoker’s promotion ahead of you had brought out some hard feelings. “She overheard us, apparently. I didn’t ask, but she approached me with a ‘word of advice,’ and told me her guess as to why you were upset. Said I ought to go easy on you.”

“She did?” You didn’t expect that, either. Tsuru had never once coddled you, nor had she treated you any differently from other soldiers. Like any other Vice Admiral, she demanded no less than excellence from the rank and file. To think she was looking out for you behind your back brings a small smile to your face, but Smoker only rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. And years later, when Tashigi was assigned to me–Tsuru didn’t say anything, but she made eye contact with me the next time we met. Sustained eye contact.”

You laugh; he does not, silently tying off the sutures and starting to bandage your arm. You watch Smoker work. His expression doesn’t change much, but you know him well enough to read the minute differences, the slight tensing of his brow and the way he bites down just a bit harder on his cigars.

“You’re still mad.”

“Why did you take the bullet?” He cuts right to the chase, pausing his work to give you a hard look.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, too, as you hadn’t taken anything, you’d only been grazed. The wound wasn’t even that deep, whereas Smoker getting shot directly would have been a far worse injury to treat, assuming he survived it at all. “Smoker, that pirate was using Colors of Arms. It would have hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead.” His voice is carefully flat as he resumes bandaging, the way it is when he’s making an effort not to raise it–he learned early on that you have zero tolerance for men shouting. 

This conversation always happened after combat situations, to the point that it long since stopped being a bother. You know how to handle it now. Once it would have aggravated you, feeling like coddling, but you’d since come to learn that Smoker got irritable when anyone under his command was injured. Pretending like he would feel any less toward his partner was unfair to him, and a naive expectation in the first place. Not much raises his spirits in these situations aside from time, but you try to be lighthearted anyway.

“In the interest of tactics,” you point out, “as the strongest one in our group, it’s more important that you stay uninjured.”

“Screw that. You’re under me in rank–”

“Barely–” you try to cut in.

“–it’s my job to keep you safe.” Smoker finishes wrapping your wound. He’s delicate when he tucks the bandage in, but then peels off his rubber gloves and tosses them with far more force than necessary, the rubber snapping loudly against the waste bin.

You tsk. “Did you forget what they taught us as grunts, way back when? ‘Keep the Captain alive.’ And you did keep me safe, didn’t you? You subdued the pirate with the opening I gave you. I kept my Captain alive, you kept the rest of us safe. The system worked as it should.”

“The system is a fucking joke,” he retorts with a bitterness you rarely hear from him. His hands ball into fists, and you know he’s thinking about Punk Hazard again, which means he’s thinking about Alabasta again, too.

You also know that his stewing in those memories will only make him feel worse, but there’s another way to lift his mood that occasionally works, when he’s receptive to it.

“...Yeah? Is that what you keep telling yourself whenever you’re fooling around with your subordinate?” You say it just a touch vampishly, and his eyes are slightly narrowed when they meet yours–he knows what you’re doing. “You should know better, Captain.”

Calling him ‘Captain,’ evoking the old days and the old power dynamic, is another dead giveaway as to what you’re offering. For a moment, he doesn’t reply, and you think his mood’s too sour to reciprocate. Then he relaxes his fists and grunts.

“I don’t tell myself anything when we're fooling around,” he says. “You do plenty of that for me. Mainly don’t stop and please.”

You smile, going to rest your hands on his, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “No, don’t–don’t distract from what happened.”

“Smoker,” you sigh.

“It’s my mistake that got you hurt.”

“Will you please stop taking responsibility for my choices? I know what I can handle. Hell, you know what I can handle. You know I can take care of myself.”

“So can I,” he argues.

“Apparently not!” you snap. He scowls and turns his head, ashamed, but you grab his sleeve to make him look at you again. You are not going to coddle his ego, even if his intentions are ultimately loving. “Put yourself in my shoes for a damn second. How would you feel if you had the chance to protect me and didn’t? You wanted to be committed to each other. That means I look out for you, too.”

Smoker stares at you, then at the ground, and then closes his eyes. You wait patiently as he takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, you can visibly see the tension easing in his shoulders, sense its waning with your Haki, dissipating with the smoke he exhales. Stepping before you once more, he rests his hands low on your hips and pulls you close without a word. Conveniently, with him having over a foot of height on you, you can embrace him without the threat of cigar smoke up in your face; you promptly take advantage of that to bury your face into his broad chest (another win for height difference.)

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, and a warm feeling spreads in your chest at how easy it is for him to admit it, to defer to your judgment when rightfully earned. “I just hate seeing you injured.”

“Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re my woman.” Smoker grabs your ass in emphasis, squeezing hard and pulling you flush against him. You can’t help but bite your lip at the treatment, and he smirks down at you. “Like the sound of that?”

“I dunno…”

“You’re blushing.”

“So are you!”

That makes him pause, taking a moment to check the surroundings with his Haki, making sure no one’s heading your way. You instinctively follow suit, sensing the various life energies of your combined units, all at their respective posts. Comfortably in the clear, you and Smoker focus back on each other.

“I know you're still frustrated, Smoker,” you say. “If only there was some way to work it out…”

“I’m getting the subtle impression you want me to take it out on you.” One hand leaves your rear to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly on your lower lip. You poke your tongue out to brush the calloused digit, making his eyes half-lid and his voice deepen. “Are you really such a slut that you’d fuck right after getting injured?”

“Only for you, Captain,” you promise. Keeping eye contact, you lightly bite the tip of his thumb, earning the rare sound of his breath catching. “Besides…we both know it would have to be deeper than that to affect me.”

“How deep we talkin’?” Smoker’s hand slides from your jaw to cradle the back of your neck. You go to hook your arms around his neck, but raising your injured arm up above your head agitates your wound, torn muscles burning, and you can’t stop yourself from sucking in a sharp breath at the sting. 

Smoker clicks his tongue, large hands gently wrapping around your forearms and lowering them back to your sides. “You need to rest.”

“Nooo, no I don’t. This is nothing,” you protest.

“You’re in pain.”

“I like a little pain.”

“Trust me, Y/n,” he says, touching under your chin. “I am well acquainted with the kind of pain you like. This ain’t it.” 

“You’re literally not the boss of me.”

“And yet, so often, you beg me to be just that.”

Unamused, you tilt your head away so he isn’t touching you, trying not to frown as your heart sinks. By now, you should be an expert at dealing with disappointment, but it never gets easier. God, but it feels like a physical thing sometimes, creeping and icy like a winter sea. “By the time I heal enough, we’ll have parted ways again.”

“I know.” Smoker takes your hands in his; a small consolation.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you next.” You look at him, squeezing his hands.

“Pretend it’s the old days,” Smoker suggests, “when you couldn’t stand to even share a bunk with me.”

You smile at the memory–it seems like a lifetime ago. “That doesn’t help. I wanted to fuck you back then, too.”

That finally makes him smile slightly, the corner of his lip curling. “Then you’ll just have to wait,” he lets go of your hands to hold your face again, leaning in closer, “and I will take great satisfaction knowing you’re touching yourself in private, thinking about what I’ll do to you when I see you next.”

You wet your lips, pulse jumping at the thought. “Why don’t you give me a little preview? I mean, I did just save your life and all…”

Smoker grins, taking out his cigars with one hand and stubbing them in the palm of the other. It doesn’t hurt him given his Devil Fruit, but there’s something about the entire process, from watching the cigars leave his lips to hearing the sizzle as they’re put out, that just makes you wet. Maybe it’s a conditioned response–he’ll move his cigars out of the way to kiss you, but if he stubs them out, it means he intends on taking his time.

“Fine, but don’t complain when you get worked up for nothing.”

“I’ll deal.”

“You say that now–”

You grab the collar of his jacket with your good hand, using your full strength to yank him down to your level. “Would you please shut up and kiss me?”

Smoker responds with equal force, grabbing you by the neck. Your resulting moan is cut off by his lips crashing into yours.

Finally. It’s been months since you’ve last tasted him, even longer since you had him. And while you always missed him when you were apart, it was noticeably worse ever since he asked you to be exclusive. Maybe it was the knowledge that he wanted you to himself, the desire you now knew burned for no one else.

You part your mouth, tracing his lips with your tongue before sucking and nibbling on them. Smoker matches your energy, following your lead and biting your lower lip. Just as you start getting into it, your tongues meet, and suddenly he’s pulling away. “What?” you ask breathily. “What is it?”

“I changed my mind,” Smoker says.

“What?!”

“Any more and I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yep.” He at least has the decency to look sheepish, but you don’t bother to hide your displeasure, even glaring slightly. “Don’t give me that look.”

“You know,” you cross your arms, wincing when it agitates your wound, “now that we’re monogamous, it’s kind of your job to meet my needs.”

Smoker looks at you sharply in surprise, but you don’t budge. You’ve dealt with misogynistic bullshit for so long, you’re allowed to weaponize it once in a while.

“You are injured,” he points at you, “I’m not letting you guilt me.”

“I’m just saying, that wouldn’t matter if we were slow and gentle about it–”

“When have we ever done slow and gentle?”

You raise a hand to retort, but then pause. Though you scramble for an example, no matter how much you think back, you realize it’s never really happened. Your meetings with Smoker were so few and far between that you two always ended up blowing off steam intensely. There was one time where your vacations overlapped and you spent a week at a rented cottage, and that was it. Slowly, you lower your hand. “Okay, you got me there.”

“And I promise I’ll get you there again,” Smoker says cheekily, “next time.”

This time, you do roll your eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“Yeah, here’s some more.” You roll your eyes three more times, just to push his buttons a little.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that one day,” Smoker says, having long-since wisened up to your tactics. “This is bait.”

“It is, but you don’t have to take it.”

“Only one of us is going to be taking it–”

Both your senses go off, Haki alerting you to a soldier approaching the tent–Tashigi. You pull away from each other, fixing your uniforms and putting on a strict air. The two of you have yet to be open about your relationship. Romance between soldiers wasn’t necessarily forbidden, but it was less messy to keep things under wraps.

With the mission over, your units would be going on their separate ships the following morning. This will be the last you see him for who knows how long.

Right before Tashigi reaches the tent, Smoker takes your hand suddenly, pulling you into a hug. He buries his face into your neck, taking in your scent.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he mutters, then lets you go.

When Tashigi walks into the tent, you and Smoker aren’t standing as close, and Smoker’s re-lit his cigars.

Before you leave for the night, though, you tap on the exam table, a subtle farewell, and right before you leave the tent, you hear Smoker’s return tap.

It’s been three months since the end of the mission with Smoker. Out of the blue, you receive orders to return to the nearest Marine outpost, three weeks away by sail. The message contains no further information.

It’s not unusual to get such orders. Sometimes plans are too sensitive to be relayed even over a secure transponder snail channel. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying–you hate going on long trips blindly–but such is the nature of the job.

In the back of your mind, you wonder if anyone else would be summoned to the outpost. It could be that only one unit is called in. Occasionally, multiple units are called at once. There’s a small chance that others have indeed been called, and an even smaller chance that Smoker’s unit could be among them. But you snuff out the thought–getting excited only to be let down has happened too many times now, you know better than to get your hopes up. It’s simply not worth the disappointment, so you forget about the possibility.

From the number of ships at the dock, you can gauge that your unit is, in fact, not the only one that’s been called in, but you’re one of the first few to arrive. Whether others will come after is not your concern, so you disembark and head inside to be briefed on the reason you’re there in the first place.

Debriefings are boring. So is the down time in-between that and the following meetings, which are the most boring of all. Holding back a yawn is a monumental feat, but you manage, especially because Admiral Sakazuki is the one currently speaking. He’d tear you a new asshole if he caught you displaying such blatant disrespect.

You don’t care for Sakazuki at all. He’s exactly the kind of man the top brass looks for–rigid, humorless, and austere in his leadership. He’s also short-tempered, rude, and, in general, a giant douchebag. So while you stay alert and attentive as he talks, you have no qualms thinking to yourself, shut up, shut up, shut up…

Not curating your thoughts is a mistake. When Sakazuki mentions his annoyance at civilian interference with a mission, you aren’t able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in time, and he catches you.

The bellowing that follows is deafening, the admonishment humiliating. Sakazuki chews you out and spits you up, right there in front of everyone. Do it again and he won’t bother demoting you, he says, he’ll just roast you alive and serve you to your unit.

The room is dead silent when he finishes. You’ve never felt smaller.

Sakazuki takes a deep hit of his cigar, wraps up the meeting, and dismisses everyone. When you turn around, you see that Smoker is at the back, having joined in late–you didn’t even notice him with the Admiral’s presence bowling over everyone else’s energy. Smoker meets your eye, his gaze carefully blank. You look away as you pass by him.

“Y/n–” he starts to say.

You shake your head tersely, not willing to hear it. Smoker lets you leave.

It’s only a few hours later, after you’ve had some time to cool off, that he shows up again. You’re in the temporary quarters you’ve been assigned–at your rank, at least you have your own private room–laying in the bed when Smoker appears. A small stream of smoke comes from under the door and rises, gathering into a human shape. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s visited you covertly in that way. The shape solidifies and reforms into the man you love, who crosses the room and sits next to you on the bed.

“Don’t say ‘I told you so.’ I know,” you mumble without looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Smoker just rests a hand on your knee and grunts.

Your zero tolerance for men shouting obviously can’t apply to those ranking above you, something you’ve had to accept as a fact of military life. It’s part of what drove you in your career, maybe even the root of your ambition, the reason you dream of being fleet admiral. Sometimes you wonder–is it a powerful woman’s determination to succeed? Or a little girl’s desperate bid for control and security, so that no one could ever assert themselves over her again? Either way, you long to be at the top, so you would never have to sacrifice your principles for the sake of your career ever again.

“Smoker,” you say, still staring at the ceiling. “Do you think ‘admiral’ and ‘admiration’ come from the same word?”

Smoker is quiet for a moment. By now, he knows you so well he probably knows what you’re thinking.

“Dunno, kid,” is his response.

“We’re the same age.”

“Nuh-uh.”

That makes you smile, and you sit up, crawling over and throwing your arms around Smoker. He hugs you back tightly.

“Try to control yourself next time, yeah?” he suggests, patting your back. “You won’t do the world any good demoted.”

“I’m not in this for the world. You know that.”

“Bullshit. You have the lowest rate of civilian losses of all commissioned officers.”

You pull away from him, blinking. “I do? That’s–wait, how do you know that?”

“I snuck into the records office last year.” Smoker caresses the back of your head. “Despite what you tell yourself, you’re a good person, a great soldier, and an amazing leader.”

Your chest swells–with love, with pride–but you raise your chin. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“I am.”

You laugh. Part of what you loved about Smoker was his frankness. “I missed you so much.”

He removes his cigars from his mouth. “Show me.”

You hold his face in your hands and kiss him. Just like that, the anxiety of the day dissipates, like the smoke rising from his cigars, and fades away. 

“That proof enough?” you ask playfully.

“No. You’ll need to do better than that, soldier.”

You reposition yourself, straddling his lap, and kiss him again passionately. His tongue swipes across your lips, but despite you parting them, he doesn’t give you what you want just yet, pulling away and trailing his fingers down your neck just to watch you shudder.

“I always did like,” he begins, “how a headstrong, driven gal like you would melt at just a touch.”

You’re a Rear Admiral. An elite, powerful soldier, well-versed in the six powers, and a wielder of both types of Haki. You can take out whole crews on your own. You’ve worked hard to get to where you are now, you want nothing less than to be the best. You have to be nothing short of perfect if you want any recognition.

It’s for that exact same reason why your interests in bed skew the way they do. Being strong all the time is exhausting. Relinquishing control is a release from that weight you carry. With Smoker, you can indulge in that with the complete trust that he’d never hurt you–it’s no wonder you’re weak for him in bed. So where you long to be at the top in your career, you’re quite happy, behind closed doors, to assume the opposite role.

Smoker stubs out his cigars in his palm. Just like before, the action has you pressing your legs together, heart picking up its rhythm. He turns to look for a trash can to throw them, you smack them out of his hand and onto the floor.

“Don’t make me wait, Captain,” you say impatiently, practically crawling onto him. “Not one moment longer.”

“Watch it,” he warns, but he’s smirking.

Smoker picks you up, stands, and turns to the wall, pinning you against it with his body. Then he grabs your face in one large hand and roughly kisses you. You kiss him back hungrily. All the stress from the day, all the frustration from the weeks without him, you pour it all into him. In turn, he lets you know with his tongue and his teeth just how much you’ve been missed. His thick thigh separates your legs while you make out, wedging snugly against your cunt. Back and forth, his thigh rubs into you, and back and forth, your tongues push and pull like waves against the other. There’s a bittersweet cigar flavor to him that you’ve grown addicted to. It tastes like passion and need and home all at once, and you can’t get enough.

Smoker sloppily kisses down your jaw, and you angle your head to make it easier for him, clutching onto his jacket. It’s hard to be rational after so long without his touch, but you’re a disciplined officer before anything else.

“You got condoms?” you ask breathily.

“I don’t,” he answers between kisses. “Didn’t think I’d see you.”

You have a birth control implant in your upper arm, but always use a second form of contraception just to be safe–even the implant has a minuscule rate of failure. But that percentage seems incredibly insignificant at the moment.

“That’s okay,” you decide.

“I’ll pull out.”

“Yeah–mm!”

Smoker’s bitten down on the sensitive side of your neck. You clamp your thighs around his, gasping. You intended to touch him back, but as usual, once he starts sucking on your neck, you can’t focus on much else, a little whimper rising from your throat.

It feels so good, little goosebumps prickling throughout your whole body. “Smoker,” you whine helplessly.

He growls in response, a deep sound that makes you twitch between the legs.

“Smoker, no marks,” you barely manage to remind him.

He breaks away. “I know.”

The loss of contact restores some mental perception. As much as he gets off on service, you want to make him feel good too. You rake your nails down his chest, and he shuts his eyes, growling again in approval. Then you lean forward and, standing on your tip-toes, bite his neck, near the base where he likes it.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, digging his fingers into your hips. You can’t mark him either, so you have to keep it light, but he doesn’t seem to care. “There’s my good girl…”

You kiss and lick down his chest, digging your nails into his sides as you go. Smoker shudders as your tongue traces his abs, mouth warm on his skin. You keep going down further, but he stops you once your fingers reach the hem of his pants.

“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, pulling you back up by the arm and pressing you back into the wall. He leans in, caging you with his bulk. “Anything you want.”

You bite your lip, his forcefulness bringing something to mind. “Can you do the thing?”

“Make you lightheaded?”

You nod fervently, and Smoker wastes no time in grabbing your neck.

“No, I mean the other way.”

“Oh.”

“You can keep your hand there, though.” You grin up at him, and Smoker chuckles.

“That’s my needy little soldier, need me to keep you still, hm?” he praises. “Remember the safe signal?”

The safe signal is tapping ‘SOS’ on the other in morse code. You do so on his arm as a confirmation.

“Okay. You ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans in and kisses you, sealing your mouth with his own. You grip his wrist, tense in eager anticipation for what comes next.

Smoker transforms a part of his body internally, and, very slowly, wafts it into your throat. You breathe him in gradually, a single, deep breath bringing the smoke into your lungs. You had discovered this particular little activity by accident years ago, but quickly found out two things: First, his smoke doesn’t make you cough, and second, the lack of oxygen makes your head swim in the best way.

The smoke in your chest is warm and comforting, even soothing. You breathe in through your mouth and out through your nose, where the smoke drifts back and reconnects to Smoker’s body. The first breath of him doesn’t do anything, the second starts to bring on a slight airiness, by the third inhale you’re lightheaded and wetter than you’ve ever been.

You grind on his thigh, eyes rolling back. The lightheadedness enhances the pleasure so much you'll cum soon if you keep it up. Smoker presses his thigh up into you further, making you moan, and you reach for his cock. He’s already unbuttoned his pants for relief, as he’s ragingly hard–doing this always gets him really worked up, too. Something about the trust, about being physically in contact with the most life-giving parts of you, about being inside you in a way no other person could be. He feels the pulse of life through your lungs, and it almost makes him as dizzy as he’s making you.

Smoker groans as you start massaging his cock, reflexively thrusting himself into your hand. Thanks to your Marine training, you can hold your breath longer than most, so you stay like that for a while, grinding on his thigh while stroking him and basking in the high, the bliss mounting quickly higher until it explodes. You cum hard against the solid bulk of his thigh, pulling your head back and gasping fresh air as your vision spots.

“There you go, good girl,” Smoker praises, grabbing your hips and grinding you onto his thigh to draw out your orgasm. “Take deep breaths for me.”

You do as instructed, holding onto him and closing your eyes, slowly regaining oxygen as your clit throbs in the wake of everything. You take a few minutes to recover, Smoker peppering kisses all over your face in the meantime.

“All clear,” you say, wrapping your arms around Smoker’s neck. “Fit for duty and reporting for action.”

He leans in and kisses you, then kisses your jaw, making his way to your ear, where he growls, “how do you want me?”

What a dumb question–do you ask a starving man which restaurant he wants to go to? “Don’t care. Just have me.”

“Suit yourself. You got a change of clothes here?”

“Yeah.”

Without further notice, Smoker grabs your shirt at the neckline and tears it off your body in one motion. He knows better than to do the same to your bra (after having yelled at him years ago that good ones aren’t cheap,) letting you take it off yourself. Then he adjusts you so only your upper back is leaning against the wall, your hips perched on his own, with your legs wrapped around him for support. Now having some space behind your lower back, he grabs your wrists and pins them there.

“Don’t complain about your choices later,” Smoker says, and kisses his way down your breast until he’s reached your nipple, which he takes into his mouth.

“No, Sir–ah!” you bite back your moan as he swirls his tongue, tugging helplessly against his hold on your wrists. “Fuck!”

His tongue prods and licks your nipple, eyes fixed on your strained face, then he messily pops off and goes to your other one, sucking it hard.

“Smoker! Ah! Please…” you moan. His attention to your chest is the worst kind of teasing, making your engorged clit ache to be touched. You try in vain to grind against him for some relief, but with your wrists pinned behind your back, you can’t get any leverage. “Please!”

Smoker detaches from your chest, leaving a rough bite to your breast before responding. “What did I say about complaining?”

“I changed my mind!”

“Imagine that.”

He goes back to slurping and sucking on your tits, and you can do nothing about it but struggle against him, gasping and moaning as his teeth gently scrape your nipples.

“Please, Sir!” you beg.

“You said you didn’t care.”

“I need it!”

He kisses your nipple sloppily, pausing to ask, “you fantasize about it?” Then he sucks it into his mouth again, watching your expression as you struggle to respond.

“Yes! I–fuck–I thought about you every night!”

“What did you imagine me doing to you?”

“What do you think?” you whine, losing composure.

“Tell me.”

You could cry with frustration. He keeps teasing your chest while you try to form the words. “I thought about you–manhandling me, pulling my hair…”

“And?”

“And holding me down, and fucking me stupid!” you sobbed. “Please, please!”

“Please what, soldier?”

“Please use me for yourself! I want to forget everything but your name!”

He smirks, finally satisfied. “You sound damn good begging, you know that?”

Letting go of your wrists, Smoker tears your pants off of you as easily as he did your shirt, gripping the cloth so hard your underwear beneath is torn off with it. He hastily pushes his pants and boxers down, his massive cock springing rigid against his abs, smearing pre-cum on his skin. You practically salivate at the sight, but he tilts your chin back up to look at him, then kisses you, tongue in your mouth as he lines himself up with your heat.

“Deep breath,” Smoker says, low voice unusually gentle.

You do as instructed, anticipation curling in your gut. On the exhale, he thrusts all the way inside your heat, and your breath turns into a broken moan.

“I know,” he growls, kissing up your neck, “attagirl, taking it all.”

“Oh my god,” you rest your head on his shoulder, overwhelmed by how good it feels. “Oh, Smoker…”

He pulls back his hips before rolling them into you, ripping a moan from you both. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He thrusts again. “And warm. So warm.”

Smoker starts up a brisk, steady pace, most of your upper body supported by his arms, just your upper back resting on the wall. It’s still not enough for him; he presses you back even further until you’re flat against the wall, thrusting up into you desperately. You grab onto his thick arms, fingers digging in, and hold on for the ride, eyes shutting tightly as he rapidly drags you back to another peak.

“Such a loyal little soldier, taking care of their captain…” he murmurs, and you cry out as you cum a second time. He moans at the feeling of your walls spasming around his cock, slowing down so he can kiss you.

Smoker pulls away from the wall, walking you toward the bed. Unable and unwilling to wait, you use the strength in your thighs to ride him standing, fucking yourself on his dick as he walks. The sensation makes him stagger and groan, cursing.

“So desperate for my cock,” he growls into your ear, then picks you up off his length and tosses you, face-down, onto the bed. Before you can so much as turn your head, he smacks your ass hard, making you moan, then grabs your hair and pulls your head back to look at him.

“Well, Y/n?” he asks. “Am I meeting your needs now, you little slut?” He slaps your ass again, drawing another pathetic noise from you, then mounts you from behind, his broad torso covering your back.

Smoker teases the tip of his cock at your entrance, but you practically throw yourself back onto him. Growling, he grabs your hips and spears you on his length, grip bruising as he starts heavy, rough thrusts.

“Yes!” you cry, finally getting what you’ve craved all these months. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“You take it so well, Y/n, and you’re all mine.” Smoker lets go of your hip with one hand to instead curl his fingers into your hair at the base, pulling your head back so he can growl into your ear, “I love knowing that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you.”

“Captain!” you moan, bracing against his powerful hips. “Don’t stop!”

He doesn’t slow down for a moment, never changing pace, working you back up and up and up until you’re moaning with every thrust.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Me too,” he pants. “Fuck, it’s so good. You’re so good.”

“Finish inside!”

“What–?”

“Please!”

He slows for just a moment in his surprise, but then gets back to his former pace. “Ain’t there a chance you could get pregnant?”

Now, you weren’t interested in having children. The idea occasionally had some appeal, but you preferred your life as it was. And yet, for some reason, at Smoker’s words, you felt your clit throb and your cunt clench around his dick tightly, enough that he definitely noticed.

“You want that?” Smoker says in disbelief.

“No!” you cried, but it was too late, he pulled your head back again and spoke into your ear.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t want me to knock you up?”

You clenched down on him again involuntarily as you sobbed, “that’s not it!”

But Smoker had found a new weak point of yours, and pounced on it fully. “I’m gonna fill you up. Gonna make you have my baby,” he growled, “then you’ll really be mine forever.”

The edges of Smoker’s form begin to wisp. You’ve heard of inexperienced Logia types losing control of their form when stressed, something fixed with training. At Smoker’s level, it only happened to him when he was about to cum really hard.

“Or is it,” Smoker pants, “you just want to be full of my cum that badly? You’d risk it just to have me claim you… Oh–oh, fuck!”

Your eyes rolled back as you both hit your peak at the same time, Smoker emptying hot and thick inside you, his groan coming from deep in his belly. The nerves of your cunt spark and snap and go off like fireworks, showering your whole body in bliss that radiates in waves. His head rests on yours, his lips finding the back of your neck, kisses now soft and chaste instead of rough and wet.

Smoker readjusts you to both lay down, not pulling out, just holding you to his chest. You close your eyes as both of you catch your breath, soaking in the closeness while you can. You take in everything you can of that moment: his scent, the sweat rolling down your bodies, his firm body against and inside you still, his arms holding you close. You try and imprint it into your brain, so you can hold onto the memory in the coming lonely months without him.

“I love you,” Smoker says softly.

“I love you too,” you murmur. He’s quiet after that, but you can sense that there’s something else he wants to say. “What is it?”

“How would you feel about getting married someday?”

You blink, turning your head to look at him. The look in his eyes is the same as always: serious and forthright, though now beholding you, there’s a gentleness in them as well. He pulls out and you turn around so you’re facing him.

“Serious?” you whisper.

“Well, you don’t want kids. I gotta do something to make you mine.”

You smile. “Smoker, you don’t have to do anything.” You take his face in your hands. “It’s always been you. You’re the only one who gets me, and who makes an effort. It’s always been you.” You lean in to kiss him. “I would love to get married someday.”

“Good,” he grunts, but there’s a flush to his cheeks. Then he breaks into a rare, genuine smile of excitement. “Really?”

“First I’m going to become an Admiral.”

“What about Fleet Admiral?”

“That can come before or after.”

“Okay.” he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. “I don’t doubt you’ll make it.”

“I don’t either,” you say.

Not as long as you have his support.

[c-o-t-o]

Fanfic Master List

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･

These are links to stand-alone fics, or Part 1s only. If there are multiple parts to a story, you can find links to the other parts on each post.

Quickie: short excerpt

*If a post is n.sfw it will have a content warning before the story*

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･

Chainsaw Man:

-Denji x fem reader Shower Scene

-Aki x fem reader Shower Scene, Aki Arc (read part 1 of Denji's first)

-Request: Aki, Denji, Power x reader outside on a cold night

-Ask: what Aki smells like

-Request: Denji x fem reader Dinner and Dessert

-Request: Denji x male reader The Snow Storm

-Request: Denji x reader I Wanna Taste

-Request: Denji x male reader The Onsen Incident

-Request: Denji x fem reader Don't Make A Mess

Final Fantasy 7:

-Zack and Cloud's idea of a date

-Ask: Zack and Cloud getting jealous

Somnium Files:

-Request: Date x Ryuki drinking/tipsy together, Psyncin' in the Rain

Persona 5:

-Akira x Akechi Akira dreams of Akechi

Love and Deepspace

-Xavier x fem reader, Veiled Whispers

-Zayne x fem reader, Veiled Whispers

-Ask: what are the guys like drunk and intimate

-Ask: Zayne after 2 glasses of wine

-Zayne x reader quickie

-Sylus x reader quickie

-Ask: Sylus and Xavier fighting over you

-Sylus x fem reader, The Choice Is Yours

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･

Requests and commissions:

(Fluff & n.sfw prompt lists here)

Please feel free to send fic requests! If they're characters I'm comfortable writing about (as long as I know enough about them), I can do that! Send me ideas, please!! I'm comfortable writing character x character, character x female or male reader, character x non specific gender reader (I will try my best for this one!).

You can also message me with commission requests, and we can work out pricing depending on what you're looking for.

Tip me here so I can afford a little treat and keep myself sane 💜

[thcrns]

linked in the source is a completed gif pack (#263) of mia goth as gabi in infinity pool (2023). these gifs were made from scratch by me so please don’t claim as your own, and read my rules before saving/using!! do not use to rp as mia herself. please give credit where credit is due, and give this post a like and/or reblog if you plan on saving/using!

keep in mind mia goth is a white cis woman born in 1993 (29) and was likely 27/28 when the movie was filmed.

TW: eating, drinking, kissing, drug use, implied sexual content, guns/gunfire, fire, blood

NOTE: there is an extended version of this gif pack containing gifs from a more n.sfw scene that is available upon request only, and access will be given selectively.

[askryuu]

Greetings, My name is Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, i am a new member of the Port mafia, Gin, Chūya-san, Dazai-san and the jinko are here aswell.

NO N.SFW!! theres a discord server for those who are above 18, if you wish you may message our moderator and he can give you the link

[ Account moderated by @hopelessbluebird check my pinned comment on that blog for info about me! ]

Askryuu canon accounts; @ask-dogs-that-hunt @askranpo @askthedoa @askstormbringer @askhiguchi @asktheada @asklucym @k-plus-i-hq @ask-ishirin-kiata @adalemon @ask-poeandkarl @flawless-oda @discourse-on-decadence

if you want to make a blog to be part of the canon DM me!!

important info:

the soukokus are dating! gin is dating higuchi!

users @rogues-stuff-bc-yes , @circuslemon , @nonbinary-niki-bog @zoey-is-gay @sunnikos , @glitchtricks94 and @im-a-chunky-potato @k-plus-i-hq @creatorbiaze have guessed what L’écrivain is correctly!!

[ as always; my dividers are by @cafekitsune !!]

Rules!!

✧ Please don’t spam Interact!!! i’m glad you all love the content but it gets hard for me to analyse the statistics for the asks if someone spams

✧ Don’t imply you have the book!! this is crucial to plans for the future

✧ you don’t need to have a reason to send asks! you can ask small things or you can ask what they would say about xyz!!

✧ don’t be the reason we need new rules!

✧ ANY BREAKAGE OF THESE RULES WILL BE MET WITH A WARNING AN IMMEDIATE BAN. NO EXCEPTIONS ✧

[daisynik7]

attention fellow horny bitches, bros, and non-binary hoes:

there is a nsfw VA that I am deeply, DEEPLY obsessed with at the moment: DeepChoiceVA on r/gonewildaudio.

I just listened to this today: [M4F] Creampies and Donuts (reddit link, +18). I kid you not, it's a little over 15 minutes and I swear I [redacted] at least three times.

He's got a deep voice, but not too deep; it's slow, lazy, and just plain sexy. His dirty talk is so so good, he's out here saying things like, "your [redacted] looks so good split open around my [redacted]" like SHEESH I'm sweating, I'm taking notes for future use because my god it's so good. Credit to the script writer u/qmalice because they are a genius writing this god-tier script.

honorable mentions: [MMM4F] A Pool Party Turns Into a Fucking Competition (reddit link, 18+) - this is how I first discovered him, and honestly, I couldn't get my mind off of his voice specifically. also, threesome, of course it's good.

[youre-ackermine]

• Pairing Levi x Hange • Friends to lovers • Idiots in love •

It all started with a drabble challenge on Tumblr & a few prompts I decided to write as parts of the same story. Now I'll post them in my "It's not like I've got something grand to say to you" series on AO3.

NEW CHAPTER OUT - Updated: March 8th, 2024

Chapter One: Dumbstruck (August)

>>> Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Erwin Smith, Miche Zacharias - N.sfw 18+ - MDNI

Hange POV

One summer morning, Hange wakes up in a daze with no memory of the previous night

Read on Tumblr / AO3

Chapter Two: Sunburst (September 5th - one year ago)

>>> Levi Ackerman, Hange Zoe, Petra Ral, Erwin Smith, Miche Zacharias, Nanaba, Zeke Jaeger - Sfw

Levi POV

Back in their hometown after years abroad, Hange reunites with old friends at their birthday party

Read on Tumblr / AO3

Chapter Three:

Chapter Four:

Chapter Five:

Chapter Six:

A/N: English is not my usual language // I write non-binary AFAB Hange

Series Header @youre-ackermine

[happybird16]

HOT ERURI SEGGS IN YOUR AREA —> https://twitter.com/daniryu_p/status/1706911134442217844?s=46&t=jityt6lfaeGp2cGbv3uNBA

[NSFW X link] jajdkvkke fjvkrwdf they're so cute and blushy and jdnckkekff Levi's so leaky

*deep breath* Thank you for sending this nsnkfkcksd 💕

[hopelessbluebird]

so uh i figured out a thing for my discord

if you have n.sfw asks for @askryuu and are +18 feel free to shoot me a dm for a server link so i can answer ur n.sfw asks

[zhongrin]

Here take this

I hope this makes you feel joy in your stomach

https://youtu.be/cx0GphIuRTY

[ link: (azeru) zhongli newest audio (n.sfw) ]

pls zhongli's azeru is so hhskldjf

ty for sending this! unfortunately i don't listen to his yt audios cause they're not the full version, so i always wait for his patreon uploads :>

you'll all see me (s)creaming when that full version drops, dw 

[doubleedgemode]

If you are in the guilty gear fandom, you might have seen or reblogged user @/captainhowdie 's art in this site. They mostly draw Bedman and Bridget.

Block them. Do not interact with them, just block.

There is a callout that I will link down below, but first a warning since it very contains upsetting stuff.

CONTENT WARNING FOR TALK AND GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF:

-Racism (antiblackness, the N slur, anti japanese racism, and caricatures of japanese and black people)

-Depiction of a swa/sti/ka

- N.SFW Pedophilia and incest

-The topic and a photo of a residential school

-One of their oc's designs being based on a real serial killer

Here's a link to a callout: https://mobile.twitter.com/lucid236/status/1491039514122682371

[standfucker]

"My Boy"

Characters: Jinbe

Reader: trans male

Word Count: 4k

CW: explicit N.SFW content, monsterfucking vibes, size difference, vaginal penetration, double penetration in one hole, creampie, exhibitionism/risk of getting caught, oral (giving)

Summary: Polite interactions with your newest crewmate turn a little less polite when you catch each other ogling during a shared bath.

Ao3 Link

@jinbeioyabun

🎉🎉 Happy Birthday El! 🎉🎉

For most of the crew, the best part of getting swept up into yet another conflict is the post-battle celebration. You tend to be more like Zoro–you enjoy the fight itself more than anything, a chance to really cut loose and prove your worth. But when the town you’d inadvertently saved offered the crew their private hot springs to use, it wasn’t something you were going to pass up on, either.

The other men had already finished their soak and gone ahead to the feast. You lag behind purposefully to have the springs to yourself, wanting some peace and quiet to relax properly. As much as you love to fight, it takes you a while to wind down from all the chaos, needing a few hours to really calm your body and mind. You care for the others, but you’d prefer to bathe without the background noise of Zoro and Sanji bickering, or Brook and Franky’s general silliness.

Warm, humid air wafts into your nose and hugs your skin as you step out into the men’s private springs, the warm humidity a comforting promise of the steamy bath you’re about to enjoy. There’s several natural pools in the hot springs, the biggest sporting a cluster of rocks in the middle that men liked to jump off of. You’re about to step into the biggest one when you notice someone off to the far side of the spring. Only his head is sticking out of the water, but the color of his skin makes him stand out against the gray of the rocks. A twinge of disappointment quickly dissipates–it’s just Jinbe, his eyes closed and a serene look on his face. The placid, honorable helmsman is the most favorable of your crew to run into here; you can look forward to a calm soak if it’s just him around.

Jinbe opens one eye upon hearing your footsteps, then closes it again after seeing it’s you. Sliding off your towel and folding it up, you step into the springs. The hot water around your legs is a stark difference to the air around you, almost a little too warm, but you don’t wait to adjust, walking down the scarped steps cut into the rock.

An involuntary sigh escapes you as you’re immersed up to your shoulders, the heat wrapped around your body pleasant and soothing. It’s a little more intense around your healing cuts, close to a sting, but your tired muscles are so relaxed by the therapeutic heat that it well makes up for it. You hear a gruff chuckle come from the other end of the pool.

“It’s really nice, isn’t it?” Jinbe says, smiling warmly. “I never got to experience hot springs until long after I became a pirate. Such a luxury is exquisite…”

“Mhm,” you agree, feeling the bottom with your foot to get an idea of how deep the pool goes. It’s deep enough that the bottom slopes away from your feet, and at least deep enough that Jinbe can soak his entire body. That’s saying something, given that he’s almost ten feet tall. “Makes sense. They don’t exactly form under the sea.”

“No. A shame–the hot water feels great going through your gills.” Jinbe dips his mouth into the water, taking a gulp, and you watch with some fascination as the water flows out of his gills and trickles down his neck. He lets out a sigh of contentment. Your eyes widen slightly as he rises, his massive upper body breaking the surface so he can hook his elbows onto the bank and lean back. “The contrast is nice, too. I enjoy how cool the air feels on my skin.”

“Mm,” you reply, the sight of his broad, broad pecs erasing proper words from your vocabulary. They’re hefty and thick, a layer of fat that you know hides powerful muscle underneath. His upper arms are the same, deceptively soft looking until he flexes and shows the bulging of huge muscles. You’ve always had a thing for big guys, and even more so for Fish-men. Finding Jinbe attractive was a given, but you didn’t really anticipate the effect seeing him naked would have on you.

That’s probably why he catches you staring. You realize it too late, your eyes meeting before you rip your gaze away. At least he’s too polite to say anything about it. He scratches the back of his neck while you look anywhere else.

“You fought well today,” he says awkwardly, but sincerely. “Given my brief time in the Straw Hats, I haven’t had the chance to see how everyone fares in combat.”

“What, did I surprise you?” you ask, grinning at him.

“Yes and no. I knew you’d be strong, but I didn’t expect you to tank hits as well as you did. I’m always impressed by the resilience of humans. Especially the smaller ones.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you shrug. “But I’m alright. Look, this is the worst that I got today.” You stand on the tips of your toes so your shoulders come out of the water and point to your clavicle. There’s a long cut across the middle, and while it bled a lot initially, it was just shallow enough to not need stitches.

“You were injured?” Jinbe says, pushing himself off the wall before you can respond. Dipping low again, he moves through the water toward you swiftly and gracefully. Even on land, he moves elegantly, surprising considering his size, but it doesn’t compare to how he swims. The water seems to part around him, barely disturbed like a swan gliding across the surface.

“Just a little,” you say, taking a step back despite yourself as he reaches you, rising up out of the water. He’s even bigger up close, looming over you. The proximity makes your heart pick up its pace. You can’t help it–he’s just so big, and he’s looking at you with such concern. 

“Has Chopper seen it?”

“No. It seemed minor. I didn’t want to bother him while he was helping people who really needed him.” You have to crane your neck back to look up at Jinbe.

“As a former captain, I’d admonish you…but truthfully, I would have done the same.” He chuckles. “I’m no doctor, but I have treated my fair share of injuries. Do you mind if I take a look?”

“Oh. Uh…” You hesitate, caught between flattery at his concern and bashfulness. “No, I don’t mind.”

Jinbe lowers himself in the water so he’s at eye level with you again, inching closer to get a better view of your cut. You turn your head as he leans in, unable to meet his eye at such a close distance. You can feel his breath on your skin, the soft warmth making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Despite the warmth of the hot springs, you still feel a heat creeping into your cheeks.

“It’s not bad,” he says after a minute. “You made a good call this time. Did you disinfect it?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Good! It should heal up nicely.” He smiles big, making your heart leap, and then he perks as he notices something else. “That’s a nasty bruise there.” He gently rests his fingers on your arm, right below the deep purple bruise on your shoulder.

“It’s, uh, it’s no big deal,” you shrug. Jinbe’s lifted your arm slightly to inspect your shoulder better, and you swallow at the touch. His webbed hand is so large it wraps entirely around your arm. “J-Jinbe…”

“Ah!” he lets go, seeming to notice your unease. “Am I making you uncomfortable? My apologies.”

You laugh nervously, trying to play it off. “Come on. Being doted on by a big, handsome guy would make anyone tense.”

Jinbe’s completely taken by surprise, mouth slightly open as he goes quiet. He clears his throat, and a slow, adorably shy smile stretches across his mouth. “I must say, it’s not often you get that sentiment from humans.”

“I’ve always found fish-men attractive,” you say without thinking. Immediately you realize what you said and start stammering. “I mean, um, you know. You guys are often pretty big, and, uh, really strong, and, I look up to that, and…”

His smile grows as you talk yourself into a corner. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “it’s not unheard of for fish-men to be interested in humans, either.”

Your stomach does a funny little flip. “Do you…do you know any fish-man like that?”

“You could say that.”

You finally meet his eye. His sheepish grin makes you smile, too, even as your heart pounds. He doesn't move away, and up close, you notice the darkened, violet mottling above his left gills.

“You're bruised, too,” you say, reaching for his neck. Jinbe lets you, angling himself to give you easier access. You brush your fingers lightly over the spot, careful not to press down, and hear his breath catch. Glancing at him, you see the skin of his face tinged violet as well, something you somehow missed earlier. You touch his cheeks gently. “Oh–you also got hit in the face, huh? That's never fun.”

Jinbe clears his throat. “Actually, er, that's just a blush,” he admits, gaze averted.

“Oh!” You yank your hands away. “Sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable this time?”

“Naturally,” he grins cheekily, “being doted on by an attractive young man would make anyone nervous.” Your cheeks flare even hotter at the revelation, more so when Jinbe takes your hand, enveloping it in his large one. “I don't mind. It's nice.”

Your heart stutters in your chest. “I think so, too.”

He puts your hand back where it was on his cheek, glancing aside shyly for a second before looking at you again. He steels his resolve, taking a breath, before he says your name so gently it makes a shiver run down your spine. “Y/n…”

“Yeah?” Entranced, you lean in until there's only a few inches of space between you, and Jinbe answers you by closing the distance, pressing his lips to yours hesitantly.

The contact is fleeting, a brief testing of the waters, but it feels like little fireworks setting off beneath your skin. You two blink at each other, and then you place your other hand on his cheek and pull him back in for another. Like the first, it’s soft and uncertain. The next kiss is more sure, and by the next one, he’s placed his hands around your hips, squeezing when you gently lick along his lower lip.

It’s a little different from kissing a human; his mouth is so wide, for one thing, that he can’t really close it over yours properly; instead he lets you do most of the work, your tongue probing and tracing patterns across the expanse of his. Bringing his hands up your sides to support you, he tilts you back, pressing heated, messy kisses against your mouth. You wrap your arms around his neck, just able to dig your fingers into his hair at the base, and kiss along his lower lip, nipping by one of his large lower fangs. You can’t resist a little chomp on his fang, either. 

Jinbe growls, a sound that goes straight to your dick. “Careful,” he rumbles as you press your cheek to his fang. “They’re sharper than they look.”

“I guess you biting me is off the table?”

He chuckles. “I won’t bite you, no. But if you hold very, very still,” he warns and promises at once, “I can do this.” With the utmost delicateness, he drags the points of his upper row of teeth down your neck and over your shoulder, leaving faint, ashy lines. The sensation tickles and teases, the razor’s edge of danger, drawing a soft whimper out of you. His control is so good it doesn’t even sting.

“Jinbe,” you breathe, running your hands down his broad chest and scraping your nails against his skin–comparatively dull, but he groans appreciatively all the same. “Would you think less of me if I told you I really, really liked that?”

“Of course not,” he chuckles and pecks your lips fondly. “I find it attractive.”

“Okay,” you say, “‘cause for the record, this is my first time kissing a Fish-man, and it’s better than I imagined.”

“Than you imagined?” Holding onto you, Jinbe rolls over so you’re propped up on his chest, both your lower halves beneath the water as he swims backward easily. “You imagine yourself with Fish-men often, do you? What else do you imagine?”

He’s confident now, shining eyes fixed on you, and you meet his challenge. “Why don’t I show you?”

Jinbe pulls you in for another kiss, the two of you making out until his back hits the opposite wall. Now in only about three feet of water, you slide down between his legs while Jinbe leans back on the sloped bank.

Through the water, you can see the faint outline of his cocks–there’s two–each one at least as thick as your forearm and just as long. Arranged vertically, they’re slightly darker than the rest of him, with a purplish flush beneath the skin. The top one is erect and rigid, the other one halfway there. You try to act nonchalant at the sight, as he’s currently watching you with some amusement. Rather than make a comment, you reach for the lower one, and Jinbe sucks in a breath as you wrap your hands around it.

The skin is silky and warm even under the hot springs. You stroke him from base to tip, thumbs pressing into his frenum, making him gasp. The lower member quickly swells from the attention, stiffening until it’s as big and rigid as the upper one.

“You don’t seem surprised,” Jinbe comments.

“Didn’t want to be rude.” you respond, making him grin. “You’re, um…you’re impressive, to say the least.”

Jinbe’s about to reply when you take one cock in each hand and start stroking firmly, pressing them against your stomach, his balls resting on your lap. Whatever he was going to say turns into a soft gasp. Like a human, he seems to be more sensitive toward the tip, so you focus your attention there. Though you can’t see it, you can feel a sticky, mucousy fluid coating the heads of his cocks, spreading down his shaft by the movement of your hands.

“Ah…you… you’re certainly eager to please, aren’t you?” he praises, one hand cupping your cheek.

“You have no idea.” Taking a deep breath, you plunge your head into the water, shutting your eyes tight, and take one of his cocks into your mouth. His pre-cum is thicker and saltier than a human’s, but otherwise doesn’t have a strong taste. You stuff as much of the head of him that will fit and suck. His groan cuts through the water, cocks twitching in your hands.

As a non devil-fruit user, you’ve gotten plenty of swimming practice rescuing the other members of the crew, so you can hold your breath for some time. You easily spend a while sucking him off, stroking the opposite cock in the meantime, and when you finally surface to take a breath, you switch to the other.

Jinbe pants and groans above you, fingers digging into the pool’s rocky edge, doing everything he can to resist thrusting up into your mouth. Even for him, it proves to be a challenge; you feel his hips shift forward as he squirms just a little. The filthy act already has your cock engorged, but knowing you’re putting cracks in his iron willpower just riles you up worse. To have someone as powerful as Jinbe writhing beneath you is a thrill like nothing else.

You surface, gasping, just a bit light-headed from holding your breath repeatedly for so long. Without hesitating, you start to mount him, but Jinbe stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Hold on,” he says. “Is it safe?”

“I don’t have those parts anymore,” you say. Jinbe looks down at your stomach, and the lack of scarring there. “Law removed those for me the last time he sailed with us from Zou,” you explain. “I told him I’d owe him a favor if he would do it for me. Afterward, he told me I didn’t owe him anything as long as I didn’t tell anyone he did it for free.”

“A soft side, hm?” Jinbe chuckles. “Rare for a warlord.”

“I could say the same about you.” You move over his lower cock, lining him up while he holds your hips steady. “For all your strength, Jinbe, you’d never hurt me. Even if I wanted you to.”

Jinbe pauses for a moment, then leans in close. “Don’t misunderstand, Y/n. I’m still a Fish-man,” there’s a low, gravel to his voice now, “I still have my urges. Now,” he starts pulling you down onto his cock, and you gasp as the broad head spreads you open wide, “Shark fish-men don’t bite our romantic partners by nature. Our teeth are too sharp. However…” He doesn’t slow down or give you time to pause, and your fingers dig into his stomach at how easy it is for him to manipulate your body, how his cock spears in deep and bottoms out only halfway down, how his thickness forces your walls wide. “Stuffing you full–” Jinbe presses your back against the pool wall, ”–taking you for myself–” he starts to thrust up into you, “filling you up–” he growls by your ear as you whimper, “all are things I crave doing to you.”

“Jinbe!” you cry, trying to brace yourself against the rocky wall. It’s smooth enough to not cut, but you think he might bruise you if he gets too excited. But he’s currently fucking you so good that you don’t have it in you to care, especially not when his upper cock rubs against your own with every thrust.

“That’s it, my boy, just take it,” he purrs, “you wanna know what it’s like to fuck a Fish-man, I’ll show you.”

There’s so much pre-cum he slides in and out of you with only a slight resistance, and it sticks to your sensitive skin, something you realize must be an adaptation for sex underwater. The upper cock is painting it along your stomach as he fucks you. Your eyes roll back at the dual onslaught.

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Already?” he teases, “I don’t know if to be flattered, or scold you for your endurance.”

“But it feels–ha–so fucking good,” you moan. “Can’t–help it!”

“Cute.” Jinbe chuckles. “Then go ahead–let go for me.”

A few more thrusts, and you’re forced over the peak, your eyes shutting tight as orgasm overwhelms you.

“Ahh–mmf!” Your cry is cut off as Jinbe’s hands wrap around your mouth. He holds you there for a second as you ride it out, shushing you.

“Someone’s coming,” he hisses, pulling you away from the pool’s edge and rapidly swimming backwards. He takes you around the other side of the cluster of boulders in the middle of the springs, hiding behind them. You go still, listening; a moment later the sound of voices reaches your ears–Franky and Usopp. 

Jinbe pulls out of you, only to turn you around, facing you away from him and lining up his upper cock with your center. You look over your shoulder at him in shock. “Jinbe?” you whisper harshly.

“Just be quiet,” he whispers back. “No one will hear with our bodies underwater, so long as you don’t make a sound.”

“But–!” you bite your lip as he starts to penetrate you, his lower cock now positioned to glide over your own.

“Shh.”

The water in the center of the pool is too deep for you to reach the bottom; all you can do is brace your hands against the boulder and take what Jinbe gives you. Every thrust pushes your body up a little, but as you remain submerged up to your shoulders, there's no sound. However, the pleasure proves to be too much of a challenge as you stifle back a whimper.

“Mind your noises, boy,” Jinbe whispers. “You don't want them to hear, do you?”

You're caught off guard by this boldness coming from him–you'd never have thought he was the type. It seemed you had a lot to learn still about your new crewmate.

Franky and Usopp's voices get a little louder as Jinbe presses kisses to your shoulder. You bite your lip in pleasure and nervousness, now able to hear their conversation. The sound of splashing water reaches you both, and upon realizing the other men have entered the hot springs, you tighten up despite yourself.

Jinbe grins against your back, licking up the back of your neck to the shell of your ear. He doesn't need to say it out loud; you already know he's delighted to find out you like the risk. Unable to speak, you're entirely at his mercy in the water, helpless to the pleasure he commands all through your body.

Jinbe shifts, and you feel the head of his second cock nudging up at your entrance next to the first. You give him a shocked look over your shoulder, he tilts his head and raises a brow in question. You can practically hear him ask: Do you want it, boy? Can you take me?

The other men’s conversation grows louder, something about collaborating on a project. They have to be less than 30 feet away now.

You make your decision on a whim, nodding your consent, and Jinbe grins.

The push of his second cockhead is an immediate, challenging stretch, your insides gradually pushed apart to accommodate him. He doesn't stop until he physically can't fit another inch, stretching you taught around him. Like this, there's a constant, firm pressure against your g-spot no matter how he moves, something that makes your legs go weak. You're only held up in the water now by his cocks stuck inside you.

There's no way Jinbe can thrust like this–you're too full. Instead he rolls his hips against yours, humping into you so that his cocks grind up inside you. Your eyes roll back at how good it feels, his hushed panting warm against the back of your neck. One of his hands reaches around to cover your mouth, the other goes between your legs to jerk off your cock, instantly making you twitch and squirm. You keen into his hand, prompting him to squeeze tighter.

Jinbe leans in to growl lowly into your ear. “I was wrong about your endurance. Look how well you're doing…want me to fill you up, right here?” You nod fervently. “That's a good boy…”

He pins you to the boulder, rubbing faster circles on your cock, grinding himself so hard into you there's a slight, sweet ache. It lasts for another secret, filthy minute, until suddenly Jinbe's pace stutters and he breathes out harshly as he hits his peak. Both his cocks spurt into you at intervals, hot stickiness filling you and forcing your walls to swell even further. The sensation pushes you over the edge, your moan muffled into his hand. The orgasm rocks through you, walls spasming around him as you ejaculate into the water.

He holds you there for a minute while you both silently ride out your highs, catching your breath. Then he gently pulls out one cock at a time, only uncovering your mouth afterward. Jinbe presses your legs closed as he whispers into your ear.

“Better not let any spill out, my boy. You'll contaminate the spring even more.”

“Who's fault would that really be?” you mutter.

He chuckles and kisses the top of your head. “Come on. You'd better get back to the showers. Want help?”

“I'll be okay,” you smile wryly. “The real challenge is to climb out of the spring without spreading my legs.”

“I can take care of that.” He hooks an arm around your middle and swims you to the far edge of the pool, where he lifts you up easily and places you out on land.

You have to shuffle awkwardly to keep everything in as you walk around the perimeter toward the showers. Your towel was on the shore by Franky and Usopp, but they've seen you naked before during group baths, so that's not an issue. They call out to you as you come into view, mentioning their surprise that you were there at all.

“Yeah, Jinbe and I were soaking around the corner,” you say, keeping your face as straight as possible.

“Oh, he's here too? I didn't hear you guys.”

“We weren't talking.”

As you waddle off toward the showers, deftly avoiding eye contact, you figure you're technically telling the truth.