#zen x reader smut

[ilyvanderwood]

Railing you \(//∇//)\ (MM)

Mystic Messenger Men

Versions -> Genshin Impact | Honkai Star Rail Masterlist | Requests Open! (All have same text w/ diff characters)

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Them railing and edging you until you become a begging and whimpering mess under them. Their fat cock hitting every place you love every single thrust in they give to you, not letting you cum until they've fully emptied their balls into you, making sure to breed you and to leave your hole a dripping mess full of their cum. If you even let a single drop fall out they make sure to thrust it back into you with their fingers or dick and overstimulate your poor little hole again.

Vanderwood, Zen, Jumin, Saeran

[stxrrydreamss]

Mystic Messenger

Saeyoung Choi

“That’s my good girl.”

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

Saeran Choi

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

Jumin Han

“That’s my good girl.”

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

Zen

“That’s my good girl.”

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

V

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

Yoosung Kim

“She fell asleep in my arms knowing she’s safe from men like you.”

“Do you ever feel lonely?”

[standfucker]

Rotation

Characters: Kid, Killer, Heat, Wire

Reader: cis fem

Word Count: 24k

CW: explicit NSF.W content, recreation drug use, aphrodisiac, gangbang, oral (giving and receiving), double penetration, triple penetration, anal, voyeurism

Summary: After finally opening up to the crew, a recent personal victory has you all sailing to your home island to celebrate. However, you accidentally smoke the wrong strain, one thing leads to another, and you become the next object in the rotation.

Ao3 Link

Mesiba Island was famous far and wide for being a party island. Casinos, clubs, bars, brothels, even a natural hot spring–there was something for everyone. Liquor flowed like water, and drug laws were the laxest in all of the Grand Line. As your homeplace, you were used to the chaos and violence. Crimes of passion were commonplace, and death was regular news. 

Still, somehow you never expected it to happen to you.

A visiting pirate killed a close friend of yours, and by the time you’d heard about it, he’d fled the island. You were able to find out two vital things: He was heading further into the Grand Line, and he had a crew.

You were going to kill him. Of that, you were certain. But you also knew you couldn’t do it on your own. So, only hours after you’d learned of your friend’s death, you’d looked over the pirate crews that had currently docked on the island and approached the strongest one there.

“I want to join your crew.” You spoke firmly, standing tall, trying to show how serious you were.

“Oh?” Eustass “Captain” Kid looked down his nose at you. “Why should I let you?”

You gritted your teeth. “I want to kill someone who’s traversing the Grand Line. He’s got a crew. So I need to travel with one, too. And it needs to be a crew who’s not afraid to get dirty. The meaner the better.”

Kid wasn’t impressed. “And what makes you think you can handle sailing with us, pipsqueak?”

“I’m strong.”

“You’re puny,” Kid scoffed. He did have over a foot of height on you, but it didn’t scare you. Size difference was rarely an issue for you in fights. “And you use knives,” he continued, gaze falling to the rows of short blades strapped to your hips, “meaning you have to get in close range to your opponent, where you’ll get torn apart.”

“If they can keep up,” you argued. What you lacked in brute force, you well made up for in speed. “I can fight, Kid.”

The man cast a shadow as he leaned over you, narrowed eyes taking in your determined expression, assessing something–you didn’t know what. Then he smirked and stood up straight.

“Tell you what,” Kid jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward a man in blue who was almost as big as he was. A blue and white mask entirely concealed his face, thick blond hair spilling behind it that reached the back of his knees. Large hands curled around heavy metal gauntlets that were attached to wicked-looking scythes, currently folded back out of the way.

“If you can survive three minutes with Killer, I’ll let you join,” Kid said, looking smug. Like he thought you would be intimidated.

“Masquerade Rapunzel over there?” You glanced at the masked man. He was built a little leaner than Kid, but still impressive. Nothing you couldn’t handle, though. And if you couldn’t do this much, then how could you avenge your friend? You raised your chin confidently. “Bet.”

Killer ended up surprising you with his speed, but you were more agile. As a bigger target, he had to block your strikes while you needed to dodge his. The swings of those scythes packed a lot of force behind them, it was too risky to attempt to block. You were certain it would only take a single, direct hit to mortally injure you. But you were very good with your knives, and you were efficient above all else: your knowledge of anatomy taught you the best points to aim for on the human body.

Three minutes later, you’d stabbed Killer right below the chest. He almost decapitated you afterward, though, suddenly moving far more quickly than before. You jerked back at the last moment, and his blade tore you open to the bone, from your clavicle to your shoulder. Now second-guessing your chances of survival, you nonetheless prepared to strike back–and Kid called time. You and Killer were both hurting, but you were alive.

You expected them to be angry, but neither Kid nor Killer seemed bothered about either of the frankly concerning injuries. Moreover, Kid was impressed enough by the fight to honor his word. Their ship’s doctor patched you both up, and that night, you became the newest member of the Kid Pirates.

You didn’t open up for months.

You didn’t talk, much less hold conversations, and you mostly kept to yourself. Part of it was the fresh grief of losing your friend. Part of it was difficulty adjusting to the new lifestyle, having never sailed before. But mostly, you figured there was no point–after you got your revenge, you’d be parting ways with the Kid Pirates. It stayed in the back of your mind the entire time: This is temporary.

“Hey, Y/n, watcha doin’?” House paused by where you sat against the mast, your weapons laid out on your lap.

“Sharpening my knives,” you responded without looking at her.

“Didn’t you do that yesterday?”

“I like knowing they’re sharp.”

House glanced to the side, fiddling with her fingers. “...Oookay. I’ll leave you to it, I guess…”

And so it went. But months slipped by and turned to years, and living and fighting with the same people for that long had an effect that even your stubborn self couldn’t resist. It was in the way Wire dropped his coat onto you when you were shivering from an unexpected cold front, the garment gigantic and more like a blanket in comparison to you. It was in the way Killer found out your favorite food and served it for dinner after catching you crying one afternoon in the crow’s nest. It was in the way the girls in the crew drew you into their group (“us pirate girls gotta stick together!”) and let you jam with them on your off hours. Slowly, like a flower growing after the last winter, you opened up to the others’ warmth.

And heaven help them when you did, because once you got comfortable, you stopped censoring yourself. As you became friendly with the crew and got past your grief, your original personality started to shine through, and whatever thought came to mind was fair game. You started talking to the crew like you did to your friends back home–which, for Mesiba Island natives, typically meant being crass and lewd. You couldn’t help it, it was just in your nature. Maybe your original friend group took it too far, though.

Case in point: Heat looked over your shoulder at a letter you were writing one day, and commented on your (admittedly awful) handwriting.

“Can your friends back home even read what you send them, or do you all write like that?”

You replied without thinking. “Don’t bully me, Heat, I’ll cum.” 

Heat’s entire body flinched like he was hit, and he blushed all the way down to his neck, contrasting brilliantly with his tattoos. Completely disarmed, he opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words.

Oops, that might have been a bit much for him. For all that his appearance might suggest, Heat was one of the most reserved members of the crew. You just returned to your letter, adding the exchange to the list of things you were writing about. You’d leave out how cute the blush looked on Heat, though, saving that thought for yourself to enjoy privately.

Then there was the time Kid was having drunken arm wrestling matches with some of the guys. You slid into the seat across from him and propped your elbow on the table, equally inebriated and mostly joking–his arm was three times as thick as yours, after all.

Kid shot you a lazy smirk. “Don’t even bother. You’ll just be a disappointment.”

“You sound like my father,” you joked. “Careful there, Captain. I might develop a complex.”

Brow raising, he grabbed your outstretched hand, dwarfing it in his. “Sounds like you already have one.”

“It is what it is.” Your gaze dropped to his arm, to the flexing of the thick muscle rippling underneath the skin, a little too intoxicated to catch yourself checking him out. Kid didn’t miss it, looking smug.

He squeezed your hand, the strength behind his grip setting butterflies free in your stomach. “Give it your best shot, then, pipsqueak.”

You pushed with all your might, straining and struggling, even leaning your body weight into his arm like you weren’t supposed to. You barely made any headway, Kid’s arm only moving back a little bit. He just watched you through half-lidded eyes, unbothered, a small smirk showing his amusement at your feeble attempt.

Maybe it was just the alcohol warming your blood, but the struggle seemed to affect you a little more than it should have. You could have chalked up the pounding of your heart to the physical exertion of the attempt, and not the stark power difference so obviously displayed between you and Kid, but it would have been a lie. The way your gaze kept ending up on his massive arms was proof enough of that.

“Hmph.” Kid waited another minute, then slowly and easily pushed your hand down until it pressed into the table. He did not let go. “Weak.”

“Bleh,” you stuck out your tongue, even though you had fully expected the result. “Well, you don’t need a lot of force behind your attacks if your knives are sharp.” You patted the knives at your hip and smirked. “Flesh parts easily for the sturdy blade.”

Kid’s grip on your hand tightened a little, and you went rigid at the way his voice dipped low. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Y/n?”

“Intimately so,” you shot back, feeling your cheeks getting warm, the sensation of his hand over yours suddenly overwhelming. Unused to feeling shy, you quickly covered it up with banter. “While I also enjoy holding your hand, Captain, I’ll be needing mine back.”

Kid’s eyes widened before he let go, drawing his arm back a bit too fast. Got him.

You stood, deciding tactfully not to point out his reaction, instead offering him a sheepish grin. “Thanks for indulging me, anyway. G’night, Captain.”

Maybe you had imagined the faint dusting of red on his cheeks, but as you walked away, you were determined not to think about it. Teasing was fine with you, so long as it stayed strictly verbal–you had no business getting close in that sort of way with anyone, no matter how drawn you felt to them. There were a few people in the crew that you liked being around a little more than you should have. It probably wasn’t a coincidence that they were the only ones who could kick your ass, your brain immediately going to unsavory places whenever they bested you while sparring.

Technically it made sense, given that they were the strongest four: Kid, Killer, Wire, and Heat. You ranked fifth in terms of combat ability (though other crewmates had seniority over you due to experience,) earned one day after a long, exhausting match with Gig. You had barely come out on top, literally, by perching on his back and strangling him with his own necklace. You were certain you could at least handle Heat after that, but when you later challenged the fire-breather, it only took a short while before he had you pinned to the floor with a hand wrapped around your neck, your knives knocked out of reach.

Heat opened his mouth, curls of smoke rising out in threat, and you tapped out, trying not to think about the feel of his fingers around your throat.

“Okay, okay, you win,” you sighed in defeat. “Hurry up and let go before you awaken something in me.”

Heat pulled away quickly, blushing, though it could have also been from exertion. It looked good on him either way, even combined with the annoyed look he gave you. 

“You don’t even need to fight your opponents. You could just run that colorful mouth of yours, and they would run away,” he grumbled, offering you a hand.

You took it, and Heat pulled you easily to your feet. He must have still felt flustered, though, because he pulled a little too hard, making you stumble into him. He caught you, steadying you by the arms, and when your gazes met, you both froze, realizing how close you were.

Heat’s eyes flickered back and forth across your face, his blush deepening when he glanced at your lips. Suddenly the pounding of your heart had nothing to do with exercise. Caught off guard and anxious, you played it off the only way you knew how. “You gotta at least buy me dinner before talking about my mouth, sir.” 

Really, you weren’t trying to make it worse. You just couldn’t help yourself, always talking too much whenever you got nervous. The words only served to thicken the tension, the feeling of his hands on your arms exceedingly hot all of a sudden. His entire body seemed to give off heat, more so than usual, and your stupid mouth kept going, revealing every stray thought in your brain. “Oh, wow, you’re really warm. You’d make an excellent bedmate on a cold night.”

“I…” Heat found himself at a loss for words. He let go of your arms but otherwise remained frozen, and you wondered if he was picturing the same thing you were–the two of you curled up together, bodies pressed close, lazily breathing in each other’s scent. Maybe your hands would start to wander…

“Sorry. Forget I said anything.” You looked away, unable to harbor the thought while also meeting his eye, nervously rubbing your arm where he had been touching you. “Um, good fight, yeah? Maybe I’ll pin you next time. That would be an exciting change.”

Again with unintentionally making things worse. The sight of Heat’s Adam's apple bobbing with his swallow finally spurred you to leave, not wanting to twist yourself up in unnecessary desire any further if you could help it.

You were, to be honest, caught off guard by your attraction. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise–you knew what you liked, and they all fit the bill in their own way–but you had joined the crew during a grieving period. At the time, and for a long while after, you had felt nothing toward the crew, much less interest. The feelings snuck up on you as you came out of your shell, and they were getting increasingly harder to ignore.

The Victoria Punk anchored in a secluded cove one hot day, and most of the crew opted to go for a swim. You kicked off your shoes carelessly in your eagerness to join, each one landing on a different spot on the pile the crew left behind. Killer went to retrieve them, going to line them up neatly with the rest–one of his odd, compulsive habits–and the rare sound of his huff of suppressed laughter made you pause, his deep voice speaking up a second later. 

“What the hell is this?”

You turned around to see him holding up one of your shoes. Killer had bulked up significantly in the time since you’d set sail with the Kid Pirates, and the sight of the comparatively small item in the palm of his hand was, to be fair, a little ridiculous.

“My shoes?” You narrowed your eyes, having a feeling you knew where this was going and not caring for it at all.

“No way your feet are this small.” His head turned to you, mask tilting down, and you knew he was looking at your feet. You felt a strong urge to cover them, which was dumb–why should you feel shy about your feet, of all things? But Killer had inadvertently found something you were self-conscious about.

“Whatever! Stop looking, you weirdo.”

Killer was usually hard to read, even after knowing him that long. But right then, you couldn’t help but feel like he was enjoying getting a rise out of you, because he continued. “These are shoes for ants.”

“Shut up, Killer!!” You snapped, face flushing warm. “They are proportionate to my height, thank you very much! F–” You stopped yourself before a ‘fuck off’ slipped out, mindful of your rank. He wouldn’t appreciate the disrespect.

Killer noticed, though, as astute as ever. “What was that?”

From the tone of his voice, you could tell he was only messing with you, not actually upset. That only made it worse, though, your chest getting tight in response.

“Nothing! You didn’t hear anything.” You crossed your arms in a subconscious attempt to cover yourself, feeling exposed even though your swimsuit wasn’t revealing.

Another brief huff was audible from under his mask, and then Killer set down your shoe and approached you. He didn’t stop until he was fairly close, only a few inches separating your bodies, and you resisted the urge to step back, heart thumping in your chest as you looked up at him.

Killer rested a hand flat on top of your head, like he was measuring your height. You barely reached the top of his chest. In fact, you were at the perfect height to shove your face between his giant pecs, a thought that your brain took off with at an alarming speed before you could hope to suppress it. 

You made a face at him, trying very hard to look annoyed rather than affected.

“I suppose it makes sense,” Killer hummed, “given you’re so tiny.”

“I am not! I’m not even the shortest one on the crew!” you protested. “Of course everything would seem small to you! You’re stupidly huge.”

“Stupidly huge?” Killer repeated, that edge of amusement never leaving his voice.

“Yes,” you grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand off your head, and paused at the sight of it. It was as big as Kid’s. Without thinking, you raised your other hand to press against his, comparing the size directly. “S-See? Look at these–these flippers of yours.”

Killer huffed again. You wondered why he never laughed outright, but it still made your heart pick up speed. Your hand looked like a child’s compared to his, each of his fingers an inch longer and far thicker–do NOT think about that right now, you thought sternly, desperate to keep your imagination under control. You could not ignore how the rough skin of his palm was pleasantly warm, though, nor how he curled his fingers over yours, calloused fingertips covering your nails.

There was a heat on your skin now that had nothing to do with the weather. You were quite literally in the process of losing your cool, which naturally meant running your mouth further. “I can’t believe the oven mitts in the galley even fit you,” you jabbed, drawing your hand away. “Were they custom-made?”

“You sound jealous,” Killer retorted, lowering his hand. “I think you just hate being short.”

You looked him up and down, and–heaven help you–before you could stop yourself, your gaze settled between his legs as you audibly stated, “Not always.”

Killer went quiet. You went quiet. The silence hung between you awkwardly, while you felt like your brain was coming to a rapid boil.

It was suddenly far too hot.

You opened your mouth. Closed it. And then turned, bolting straight for the port side of the ship and flinging yourself into the ocean, nearly taking out a crewmate because you didn’t look first.

Even with Killer’s face perpetually concealed, you couldn’t look at him for a week straight after that.

Your filter never really returned, which wasn’t usually a problem for you. The Kid Pirates were as crass a crew as any. You didn’t care about being suggestive, normally finding it funny more than anything else–but when it happened around those four, you would get uncharacteristically flustered, and attempting to hide it often led you to digging the hole deeper. Alcohol only made it worse, and there was enough of it going around each night to keep leading you to compromise your plans of keeping your distance.

When a party on the deck threatened to overstimulate you, you retreated to the crow’s nest, ascending carefully to minimize the loss of rum from your mug. Some still spilled out, but by the time you made it inside, you were pretty satisfied with your achievement, especially considering your current inebriation.

Unfortunately, the crow’s nest was already occupied. Fortunately, it was only Wire–one of the more preferable people to run into at the moment, considering his laid-back attitude and soft-spoken manner. He was bent over slightly where he sat in order to fit into the small room, his head grazing the ceiling, the horns of his hood folded down cutely.

“Ey, Wire,” you greeted. “How’s it going?”

“Good.” Wire looked at the mug in your hand and chuckled. “You know, climbing the mast drunk, while clinging to your booze, and not falling off–that, more than anything, really brands you as a pirate.”

“Who says I’m drunk?” You crossed the room, only swaying a little bit, and plopped onto the bench next to Wire. 

Wire paused. “Actually, you always speak so freely that I can never tell. Most of the time, anyway.”

“Hm. Probably not a good thing,” you mused.

“Is it? I kind of envy the way you so openly speak your mind.”

“Don’t. It’s a curse.” You grinned despite yourself. “But, for the record, I’m good and sloshed right now.”

“As am I,” Wire said, lifting up his own mug from where it rested on his other side. It was proportionate to him, the size of your head, large enough to hold over a gallon of liquid. “What brings you up here?”

“I could ask the same, what with you drinking alone.” You nudged his leg with your foot. “Things were getting a bit loud, so I needed a break, that’s all.”

“But you jam with the girls all the time?” Wire asked.

“Music noise and crowd noise are different,” you explained. “I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“Fair enough.”

“I usually don’t mind a little overstimulation,” you said thoughtfully, completely oblivious both to what you implied and to the way Wire subtly leaned toward you in interest, “but it’s worse when I’m drunk or high, so.”

Wire peered into your mug to gauge its contents, an easy task from his vantage point. “Are you that drunk?”

“Triple basted, as my friends back home would say,” you swirled the rum in your mug idly, “but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m a Mesiban native, after all. Chaos is in our blood. We call ourselves ‘Messy’ for good reason.’”

Wire reflected your wry smile. “Do you miss them?”

“Of course! I think about them all the time.” You paused, smile fading as your fingers tapped on your mug. “When my friend was killed… I probably should have stayed home and grieved together with all of the rest. Have their support and support them in turn. And not, you know, impulsively join a pirate crew and wallow alone in misery for months.” 

Wire watched you stare into your mug for a moment, and then your smile returned full force as you looked up at him.

“But that’s okay!” you said cheerfully, “I would have never met all of you otherwise, so things worked out just fine in the end. I really feel like–and don’t laugh–I really feel like every person on this crew’s my friend, too.”

Wire’s smile widened. You certainly had come a long way over the last few years. He held his mug out to you. “To good friends.”

“Old and new,” you added, knocking your mug against his.

“Aye.” 

The thunk of the wooden mugs hitting each other was satisfying, and the deep drink you both took was even more so. You drained the rest of your drink in one go, then chucked the empty mug across the room.

“Ah, that’s good stuff. I feel fucking great,” you sighed, “now I just need a great fucking.”

Wire nearly choked on his drink, managing to get it down safely before he laughed. “Yeah?”

“Mm. Perfect way to wrap up the night. Drunk sex isn’t as good as high sex, but it’s better than no sex. Words of wisdom!” You waved a hand nonchalantly as your words slurred. “But I’m used to not getting any. Haven’t fucked anyone since I became a pirate. At this point, I’d be satisfied with the simple pleasures of a comfy blanket.”

Wire took in that information slowly, realizing that, for all your lewd dialogue, he had never actually seen you go hunting for flings when they were docked. He perked up at your last sentence. “Oh, are you cold?”

“Yeah.” Despite the alcohol in your system, you tended to run cold, and now that you had settled, you could feel the light chill in the air even from within the crow’s nest.

Wire wordlessly held open the side of his cloak, offering to share in his warmth.

Ordinarily, you would have hesitated, double-checking with him if it was okay. With your current blood-alcohol content level, however, there was no shame nor shyness to be had. You scooted over until you were sitting right up next to him, thighs touching, and he closed the cloak around you, enveloping you in the comfort of both his warmth and his scent.

“Better?” He asked.

“Much,” you leaned against him. “Thanks.”

His arm around your shoulders was solid and soothing, and you felt yourself melt into his body heat. He had a lot of it to go around, given his size. Your drunken thoughts began to charge away from you now that you were snuggled close to his body. As the tallest member of the Kid Pirates, he made even the biggest guys on the ship look tiny, much less yourself. Wire absolutely towered over you, easily twice your height. When you were both standing, you were at eye level with his crotch. You could have sucked him off while standing, a thought that occurred regularly, even after all this time. You never got used to it. But, god, would it even fit in your mouth? Was he proportionate? What if–

“You’re staring,” Wire noted, though he didn’t sound bothered.

You realized you had been staring at his crotch for a solid minute now. However, once again, all traces of shame had been replaced by booze.

“Women get objectified all the time. Now you know what it feels like,” you joked. “I’m evening the playing field.”

You could feel the rumble of Wire’s chuckle through his torso.

“Also, I bet it looks nice,” you continued. “I bet you got a job-hunting dick.”

Wire paused. “Job-hunting?” 

You pulled your gaze away from his crotch to meet his eye, a mischievous spark in yours. “Yeah. You know… Because you fill someone out, like an application.”

Wire laughed, accidentally hitting his head against the ceiling with how he threw his head back. He winced, still giggling, rubbing the top of his head while you apologized.

“Don’t apologize. I like that. ‘Like an application…’ Is that something your friends back home say?”

“Actually, House said it,” you grinned at his look of surprise, “and it’s stowed away in my head ever since.”

As Wire finished his drink, he wondered if he knew less about his crewmates than he previously thought. Setting the mug down on his other side, he looked down to see that you were watching him, focused on his eyes this time. 

“Have you really been celibate this whole time?” he asked.

“Yeah. I don’t like hooking up with strangers.” You shifted, settling further into him. “It was easier back on Mesiba. Had a small network of fuckbuddies, and people could vouch for their acquaintances. Mesibans have a reputation for promiscuity for good reason, but we took care of each other.”

“Sounds like a good time.”

“It wasn’t perfect, but I had my needs met,” you shrugged. “There are downsides to a culture like that, though. I lost my virginity earlier than I probably should have. And I might be a little too used to going out of my comfort zone in bed. But it’s fine, no big deal. Most of the memories are good ones.”

Wire hummed, but didn’t respond. His gaze shifted upwards in thought, and didn’t come back down until you nudged him again.

“What about you?” You asked. “I mean, a guy like you? Mr. Tall, dark and handsome? I bet you were rolling in bitches on your home island.”

“Rolling in ‘em?” Wire smirked to himself, and you wondered if he was also thinking about past dalliances. “I guess I’ve had my fair share of encounters. Enough so to consider myself experienced.”

This time, you went quiet in thought, and the silence that stretched between you was relaxed and cozy. Despite the myriad of unholy scenarios now running through your head, you still could have fallen asleep right there, wrapped in his coat and cuddled up close. A minute later, his deep voice broke through, something you could feel as much as hear with your head resting on his torso.

“You think I’m handsome?”

The question had an immediate effect on your body, your stomach doing a funny little flip while your heart picked up speed. It skipped a beat entirely when you peered up at him and saw the way he was looking at you now, eyes somehow both dark and burning.

Would you have lied if you were sober? You weren’t sure. You were never the shy type–until those damned four–but you were trying not to get too close. Alas, you were currently as drunk as a fish swimming in a lake of booze, and could be nothing but honest. 

“Yeah, I do,” you admitted.

Wire glanced away for a moment, smiling. “What a coincidence.”

“Hm?” You relaxed somewhat when his eyes left you, only to tense up when they met yours again.

“I think you’re cute.”

The heat that flushed through your body could have been blamed on the alcohol, but the force with which your heart was suddenly hammering against your ribs could not. You were almost afraid that he’d be able to feel it. Not that it mattered–you were sure your face was an open book. His thigh, as big as your entire torso, pressed lightly against yours. For a second, you didn’t know what to say. Then you returned his smile, though yours wasn’t nearly as confident.

“That’s a relief. I get self-conscious sometimes.” You looked away, now shy even in spite of the alcohol–he just had that effect on you. “Hopefully I’ll remember that in the morning.”

With one massive finger under your chin, Wire gently turned your head to look back up at him.

Your breath caught in your throat. Wire leaned over you, filling your vision, probably not intending to block out the rest of the room, but unable to help it with his size. It meant you could see nothing but him now. Smell nothing but him, with his cloak wrapped around you. He bent further, getting closer, and you vaguely wondered if it hurt his back given the distance between the two of you, but if it did, he didn’t complain. He just kept getting closer.

“Really cute,” Wire murmured, his face now inches away.

You could barely hear him over the sound of blood roaring in your ears. Wire’s other arm was still slung around your shoulders, and he rubbed your arm slowly, leaving goosebumps. His finger never left your chin as he closed the distance.

Wire’s lips pressed against yours softly. Your entire body seemed to ignite, every cell alight and buzzing all at once. His lips were as warm as the rest of him, but what struck you was how gentle he was, kissing you so delicately it made you dizzy. Overwhelmed, your eyelids fluttered shut, and when you felt him start to pull away, you followed. Now certain you wanted it, Wire found your lips again.

Your hands came up to hold his face, just in case he was thinking of pulling away again, your thumbs tracing the markings on his cheeks. Wire sighed into your mouth, and the tiniest moan escaped yours. He hadn’t even used his tongue, but you were suddenly aware of the growing wetness between your legs–something that never happened to you from just a dry kiss.

The realization was sobering, a voice screaming in the back of your head now: Stop! You’re too close! This is all temporary, remember?!

You broke away from the kiss, eyes opening to see that Wire had never closed his. Had he watched you the whole time? There was a slight panic in your mind now, along with two certainties now made clear: 1. It was too late to deny it–you had feelings for your superiors, and 2. If you stayed there, you were absolutely going to fuck him.

That was a line you couldn’t let yourself cross. It was in the interest of protecting yourself: Getting too close only to have to leave would have hurt, simple as that. But, god, the way he was looking at you now, with a slight sense of awe and pupils blown wide. He wanted you, maybe as badly as you wanted him.

Before you made a decision you’d regret, you stood up, taking a step back. Now away from the cover of his cloak and the warmth of his body, the coolness of the air only contributed to the prickle of goosebumps on your skin. Your hand came to touch your lips, still tingling with the sensation of his.

“Um,” you said dumbly, then tried again, “Wire... Thanks for the chat. I have to, uh. Go to the bathroom...”

It was with the willpower of a thousand Buddhist monks that you forced yourself to leave, not looking back, afraid to see his expression.

You could only pray that he had drunk enough that he would forget about it the next morning. You certainly didn’t, the memory of the kiss fresh in your mind when you next opened your eyes. But Wire never brought it up again, nor did he treat you any differently, leading you to think that he must have. You tried to ignore the disappointment that arose–it was for the best, you told yourself.

You put more effort into staying emotionally distant after that, but it was difficult. Staying in an enclosed space for weeks at a time meant there was no avoiding those four. And aside from them, there was no doubt that the rest of the crew considered you a friend as much as you did them. Vicious battles with other pirate crews or Marines, perilous weather, long hours of work–nothing was able to drag down your mood for long, because at the end of the day, you had fun. It was just fun to sail with them, simple as that. 

You were enjoying yourself enough that you almost forgot about your revenge, your reason for joining Kid the first place, until the day came when it stared you in the face. You heard from the natives of the island you had docked at about the other crews currently there, and the name spoken of that pirate, your friend’s killer, was like ice on your skin and in your heart. Finally, after all those years, you would have your opportunity.

You found him. Both crews were there, but this was personal–you wanted to face him one-on-one. He agreed, the cocky look on his face a familiar indicator that he was underestimating you. That was fine. It would only make things easier. You didn’t need an epic battle, you just needed him to die.

With your trusty knives sharp and ready, and your heart crying out for blood, you fought him. You were far stronger and faster than you had been when you first left your home island, a result of the frequent training with the Kid Pirates. The pirate was strong, but not nearly strong enough. When it became obvious he was going to lose, he cowardly called out for his crew. For a moment, seeing the swarm of pirates rush to his aid, you thought you would die there. Then, to your surprise, the Kid Pirates surged forth to intercept them, letting you finish your fight without interruptions.

You slayed the man who killed your friend. Those of his crew that were still standing, now demotivated at the sight of their dead captain, made a hasty retreat. And as you stood there, panting, blood dripping from your knives, you realized that the mission was finally complete. You no longer needed the Kid Pirates. It was over.

Kid approached you. And you? You cried like a bitch, tears streaming down your cheeks at the thought of finally saying goodbye. It was the first time you’d ever cried in front of them like that, and it was not a pretty cry, either.

Kid leaned over you, like he did when you first met. But this time, he was wearing his unique look of annoyed concern. “You got what you wanted after all this time,” he said gruffly. “Why the hell are you crying?”

“I… I…” You fought to keep your voice steady. “I don’t want to leave! I want to keep sailing with you and the crew. I really,” you sniffed, “really enjoyed spending time with everyone!”

“Then stay, you big fucking crybaby.”

You wiped your face on your sleeve and peered up at him. “...I can stay?”

“Did you think you were getting kicked off?” Kid scowled. “You’ll always have a place onboard the Victoria Punk.”

That only made it worse, a fresh wave of tears pouring out, and you couldn’t find the words to respond, only a pathetic sob.

“So quit blubbering and pull yourself together, alright? This is embarrassing,” Kid said. “You’re a Kid Pirate, aren’t you? Act like it.”

Warmth spread through your chest, light and bubbly, a sense of camaraderie so strong it was almost euphoric. You smiled through the tears, the cry turning into a laugh of pure joy.

“Yeah,” you said, standing up straighter, “I am a Kid Pirate.”

The crew threw a party that night in celebration of your achievement. Seeing the reverie, them all having fun for your sake, made you emotional, and when they toasted to you, you cried again, earning their teasing. It didn’t bother you one bit. This was your life and these were your people now, and you wouldn’t change it for anything. You asked Hip, a former tattoo artist, for a certain tattoo later, once you were all sober, and she eagerly agreed.

As soon as the following day, you bore new ink. Situated in the middle of your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, was the Kid Pirates’ secondary jolly roger: Four inches across, a perfect circle of glittering black ink with a row of spikes, and a skull in the center. It wasn’t visible when you were dressed, as you liked to be able to blend in with the general population, but you couldn’t help smiling like an idiot whenever you looked at it in the mirror. Kid made it obvious that you had been one of them since the beginning, but this made it feel official.

The energy on the ship seemed different after that, but it might have been your imagination. You felt closer to everyone than ever before, after all. Maybe it was the symbol you now carried on your back. Maybe it was the memory of the whole crew rushing in to fight for you. Or maybe it was the fact that there was no more reason to keep your distance from those four, a thought that reared up with increasing frequency nowadays. Still, you kept it in your pants, so to speak, mostly because you were afraid of what you would do if you crossed that line. You weren’t sure if you wanted them to find out just how far your craving went, not wanting to appear desperate.

After circling the first half of the Grand Line, Kid decided a break was in order, and so the Victoria Punk headed for your home island to kick back. You were excited, naturally, eager to show the crew the very best Mesiba Island had to offer, local digs and spots that weren’t as well-known to outsiders. You were also planning something else, something you didn’t get to partake in much since you left home.

“I’ve been in contact with one of my buddies. I’m gonna hook up the whole crew,” you told Kid.

“What makes you think I’d smoke your hometown’s mid-tier garbage?” Kid griped.

You weren’t phased in the slightest, well-used to his attitude. “Oh Captain, dearest Captain. You have no idea what you’re in for,” you smirked. “My friend’s a Devil Fruit user! Some ability affecting plants, I don’t know the specifics. Produces nothing but gold, though.”

“Bullshit,” Kid said. “I bet he says that to drive up business.”

“She actually keeps that part quiet, to avoid trouble. But we’re close. So don’t tell anyone I told you that, okay?” You patted his shoulder.

Kid glared at your hand, but you didn’t move it until he replied. “Fine. I’ll judge it for myself, then.”

“We haven't gotten to smoke in a while,” you withdrew your hand, “same with most of the crew. If you’re not careful…”

“I know what I can handle, pipsqueak. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sure, of course. Whatever you say.”

Kid turned his glare to you, but you were already leaving, needing to write another letter to your dealer friend to get the goods prepared.

The first two days on Mesiba Island were less eventful, you taking the time to visit friends and family while the crew relaxed. On the third day, you had met up with your Devil Fruit-using buddy, and, as promised, returned with copious amounts of the highest-quality weed for everyone to enjoy. The crew stayed at one of your friend’s taverns, and you pulled aside Kid, Killer, Heat, and Wire.

“Listen. There wasn’t enough of this particular strain for everyone, but I wanted to share it. Don’t tell the others, okay?”

You had gotten a nice deal on rooms from your friend, and the crew had splintered into various groups to partake in the drugs. It didn’t take much convincing for the four to join you in a separate room, curious about the special strain. You pushed the bed to the side and dragged out extra chairs, arranging them in a circle.

Almost everything had been set up ahead of time. Bottles of water and snacks lined the small table in the middle of the room, along with a rolling tray, an ashtray, and all the papers and tips you could possibly need. You put on gloves before grinding up the bud, chatting while you worked.

“It’s okay to smoke in here?” Heat asked.

“Remember what island you’re on,” you said, sprinkling the herb on the blunt wrap you were currently working with. “Not only is it okay, but we’re going to hotbox the room.”

Kid eyed the row of perfectly rolled blunts that you had already finished preparing. “You were a regular stoner, huh?”

“Have you considered that maybe I’m just good with my hands?” You glanced at him while licking the blunt wrap, which might have been a mistake, because he stared in a way that made your heart skip. You folded the blunt wrap closed. “But, yeah, I used to smoke all the time.”

“What’s so special about this strain?” Wire asked.

“It’s my favorite! Best of the best out of what my friend grows,” you smiled proudly as you dried the blunt with your lighter. “A well-balanced hybrid with a good flavor. Really nice, lofty high without knocking you out too much to enjoy it. Not that the crew got anything mid! This stuff is just even better, but she only grows it in small batches. I bet it’ll even chill you out, Kid.”

Kid shot you a look that you ignored while Wire nodded, saying, “I see. What’s it called?”

“Magenta Mountain.” You set the finished blunt at the end of the row to finish drying. The first ones were ready by now.

You plopped into your chair, lit the first blunt, and made sure it was burning evenly before taking a small hit to start with, to adjust to the feeling of smoking again. It didn’t take long, the hot smoke in your throat and lungs pleasant rather than irritating, and your second hit was deeper. You exhaled slowly, watching the milky smoke curl and expand, then coughed a few times before passing the blunt to your right, where Killer sat. Next to him was Kid, then Heat, and completing the circle, on your left, was Wire.

You expected Killer to lift his mask an inch, like you’d seen him do occasionally for certain foods. Instead, he stuck the blunt in one of the lower holes of his mask to take the hit, and when he exhaled, smoke came out of all the holes in the mask.

“Once the blunt’s gone around a few times,” you said, “that’s gonna be hilarious.”

“It’s hilarious now,” Heat grinned.

“You’ll get over it,” Killer said, passing the blunt to Kid.

“Just don’t get mad if I laugh,” you said.

“I won’t.”

You debated lighting a second blunt and having two going around at once, but ultimately decided against it. There was no rush, as the rooms were rented out for the entire night. Conversation started to flow, interspersed with the occasional fit of coughs, and by the third time the blunt passed your hands, you were starting to feel its effects. The first thing you noticed was the warmth around your eyes, gradually spreading to the rest of your face, and then to your entire body.

“How’s my hometown treating everyone?” you asked, shrugging off your jacket and tossing it onto the bed behind you.

“No complaints here,” Heat said before taking a large hit off the blunt, and you watched with some fascination. Every hit he took was a huge one, and he never coughed once. It must have had something to do with his fire-breathing ability, being used to smoke.

“I liked the restaurant from yesterday,” Killer remarked.

“Oh, you mean Papa’s? I thought you would. Their pasta rules.” You paused, remembering something, then snickered.

“What?” Kid asked, his tone already far less harsh than usual.

“It’s fucking stupid,” you grinned, “but, growing up, my friends and I would call it ‘Daddy’s’ as a joke. Someone would order spaghetti and meatballs, and we’d immediately pile on about them having ‘daddy’s balls’ and whatnot.”

Kid must have been feeling it now, too, because instead of rolling his eyes like he usually would, he cracked a smile.

“Told you it was dumb.” You leaned back in your chair–no, you melted into it. There was a haze in the air now, thick smoke hanging around the room as you hotboxed it further and further. There was also a haze in your head. Different from the kind you would get from alcohol, this one made you feel light and floaty.

The weed was well established in your system now. There was a slight head rush at first that had since settled, leaving you with a gentle sort of drifting feeling. Your heart rate picked up slightly, even as your breathing slowed. A sense of calm settled over you, both in your head and in your body. Muscles loosening up, you relaxed further, everything seeming to move a little bit more slowly. Your senses seemed to heighten, particularly your sense of touch. You could feel the air itself wrapped around your skin, like you were underwater without the water. A faint, soothing pressure.

You didn’t feel the world around you. You experienced it.

Along with the physical sensitivity came an almost spiritual one. Not in the religious sense, or even in the out-of-body sense, but in the way you felt connected to your surroundings. The pressure of your feet against the floor was grounding, and when you closed your eyes, you felt like you were a part of the entire island. When the others talked, you felt connected with them too, like you were locking onto their energy. That closeness was one reason you loved smoking with friends, so it was nice to share it with them, but it wasn’t your favorite thing about being high.

The best thing, you thought, was the way your negativity seemed to dissolve. Fears and doubts subsided, making way for a simple appreciation of existence. It seemed more important to focus on enjoying things in life rather than lamenting the broken state of the world.

You looked around the room and took in the state of your companions. Everyone except Killer had settled back into their chairs, the latter instead leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. But you could tell that even Killer was unwinding. Your gaze slid over to look at Heat, and when the two of you made eye contact, his eyes widened.

“Your eyes are really red,” Heat said.

“Everyone’s eyes are red, my guy,” you replied, then glanced at Killer. “Well, Killer’s might not be. We’ll never know.”

You and Heat giggled.

“And I’ll never tell,” Killer said solemnly.

That got everyone laughing, you covering your mouth until the fit calmed.

“When I first joined the crew,” you nodded at Killer, “I was dying to know what you looked like under the mask, but I’m over it now.”

“No, you’re not,” Wire accused.

You were a bit taken aback that he read you so easily. “No, I’m not,” you agreed.

Kid waved his right hand vaguely. “You’re not missing out on anything. He’s an ugly motherfucker.”

You gawked at Kid in shock, but Killer burst out laughing, the first time you’d ever heard him do so, head hanging down and shoulders shaking. It was a weird but adorable laugh, and you calmed down–it seemed that sort of thing was fine if it was coming from Kid.

“No way,” you said, relaxing once more. “I bet he’s cute.”

Alcohol made you honest due to a lack of judgment. Weed made you honest because you didn’t care otherwise. You knew what you were saying and it was okay because the world was good, and your friends liked you and all that mattered was being in the moment.

“You sound so certain,” Killer said once he caught his breath, a playful lilt to his tone lingering from his laugh.

“I can feel it in my gut,” you said assuredly.

“I could have a facial scar.”

“Kid has a facial scar, and he’s cute.”

Kid looked at you in surprise, and where you would normally smile back with your high confidence, you now deftly avoided eye contact as you were rapidly becoming aware of a new effect of the weed on your body.

Sometimes weed had the effect of raising your libido, and Magenta Mountain had occasionally done so in the past. Maybe it was the increased circulation, you didn’t know. You had considered that it might happen, but it was never enough to be distracting, so you hadn’t been worried. The rest of the effects of the weed were so nice, it was well worth the discomfort of possibly being a bit aroused in the presence of others, you had figured.

But you were not a ‘bit’ aroused. You were burning up, slowly but surely, tingling and hypersensitive all over until there was a growing dampness between your legs. And the others around you were all men you had a raging, years-long crush on. Beneath the carefree optimism of the high was the dawning sense that something was off.

“This shit is amazing. What did you call this strain?” Heat asked, plucking the weed container from the table to look at the label.

“Magenta Mountain.”

“Huh…” His squinty eyes narrowed further. “This says something else.”

“What?”

Heat tossed the container to you. You fumbled it in your intoxication, bouncing it between your hands until it clattered to the floor. The others laughed, and you did too as you reached down to pick it up. Your laughter died as you read the label.

‘Red Sky At Night.’

A weight settled heavily in your stomach as you realized what’s been happening: your friend gave you the wrong strain. Not only that, but you were very, very familiar with what you–and the others–had been smoking all this time.

‘R-SAN,’ as you and your friend had dubbed it, was specifically designed to increase arousal, focusing on blood flow and sensitivity far more than other strains. You knew this because you were the one your friend used as a lab rat when developing it. The information sank in slowly as it dawned on you–you’d unintentionally given you and your superiors a mild aphrodisiac. And you, as the one it was tested on, would be affected by it the most heavily.

“Y/n?”

Your head snapped up. The others were looking at you with some concern.

“You good, or did we just smoke the wrong weed?”

“We’re good!” You replied a little too quickly, voice a little too high-pitched. “She gave me the wrong strain, but it’s fine. I mean, I feel fine. Do you feel fine?”

Heat and Killer shrugged, Kid grunted an affirmative, and Wire nodded.

“I will admit,” Kid said, “whatever this is, it’s some pretty good shit.”

You lifted your chin. “T-Told you so. My friend grows good herb.”

The others lounged in their seats quietly, soaking in the high. Meanwhile, you wanted to scream. The current blunt in rotation was the third one of the night, and you had already smoked too much to be able to come down anytime soon. Not to mention there were four more blunts left that the others would likely want to go through. That meant a lot of time stuck in your worked-up state. If you rejected any more, would it be suspicious? Especially after you went to the trouble to set all this up? You weren’t sure how much more you could tolerate. Already, you wanted to run off and touch yourself until you had sated the blazing urge inside you.

It was imperative, for the sake of your sanity, that you did not let your imagination run away with you.

You tried to think about tame things, and not how you could feel your pulse between your legs, or how wet you were already, or how attractive the men you were sharing space with were. At the least, it was easy to be introspective when high, so you were able to force your thoughts into the sentimental, rather than the physical. You thought about the warmth of your friends–not that kind of warmth, damn it–but how the way they treated you changed since you first met them. Yes, focus on that. Focus on the beginnings, how initially standoffish everyone was. You considered the time when you first met the crew. There had been something odd about your battle with the First Mate…

“Killer,” you said, “remember when we first met? How we fought?” You pulled the neckline of your shirt to the side, exposing your shoulder to show the scar that ran from there to your clavicle. At 6 inches long, it was your biggest scar, but you didn’t hold it against him. Focused on Killer, you missed the gazes of the other three settling on your bare skin.

“Yeah,” Killer replied.

“You were going easy on me, weren’t you?”

“Yeah. Until you stabbed me.”

That was what you had suspected. The sudden increase in his speed during the fight didn’t make sense otherwise. You tried not to sound smug. “Why is that? Why didn’t you try to kill me, Killer?”

“I almost took your head off,” Killer said plainly.

“No, I’m talking about before I stabbed you. You held back,” you pressed.

Killer paused. “...You want the truth?”

“Yes?” You sat forward, intrigued.

“When you approached us years ago,” Killer interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them, “your eyes were all swollen like you’d been crying for hours. I assumed it was over the friend you wanted revenge for–I realized you came straight to us not long after you’d found out. That kind of determination, that kind of love for a friend, it’s something I value in an ally. That’s why I hesitated.” 

“Oh,” you said softly, unexpectedly touched. That was honestly very sweet, so much so that it was making you self-conscious, so you added a playful, “guess that all went out the window after my knife slotted between your ribs, eh?”

“Mostly,” Killer said. “I was kind of into it, though.”

Your eyes widened, and you grinned nervously. “Shut the hell up. No you were not.”

Wire chuckled, a deep sound that practically gave you goosebumps in your current state. “Well, knives are sexy, and Killer has a ridiculously high pain tolerance, so I can see it.”

No matter what you did, it seemed that the conversation kept circling back to indecent places. You mentally floundered for a moment before quickly spouting, “Too bad for you guys. Killer got soft, and now you’re stuck with me.”

Killer’s head snapped to you at the accusation, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could feel the weight of his glare. You met it (kind of) in challenge. Despite the slight sense of warning you were getting, you continued to run your mouth.

“You could have killed me if you really tried, you know–back then, you completely outclassed me.”

“I still completely outclass you,” Killer stated.

Your look of indignant shock sent the other three into a laughing fit, and your face burned in embarrassment. Even high, you still had your pride as a fighter, which was now thoroughly bruised. “Excuse me?” you fumed. “I’m way stronger than I was years ago! I can fucking take you!”

Killer stood up suddenly, the warning in your head becoming a full-on alarm when he stalked over to you. You scrambled to your feet, but the weed slowed your reaction speed, and before you could do anything about it, Killer grabbed you.

Maneuvering you as easily as a child would a doll, Killer pulled you toward him so your back was against his chest, snaked one beefy arm under yours and around the back of your neck, and locked you into a half-Nelson, all in the span of a second. Then he stood up straight, and you were brought off your feet. With your head being pushed down, you couldn’t gain any leverage, kicking and struggling to no avail. He was a solid wall of muscle, and with only one arm, he had you completely helpless. After another fruitless minute, you gave up, going slack in defeat.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you mumbled, making the other three laugh again.

Point now proven, Killer set you on the ground. It took everything in you to keep your legs from shaking. Arm wrestling with Kid that one time had been bad enough. Being locked against Killer, totally unable to fight back? Feeling the firmness of his torso against your back, the power in his arm? You weren’t just wet anymore–you were completely soaked. You only prayed it wouldn’t get bad enough to show through your pants.

Sinking into your seat, you tuned out the others for a minute, all comments fading into the background. You tried to focus on breathing slowly, to ease the frantic pounding of your heart, to ignore the aching need between your legs. Zoning out was impossible with the raging sensitivity of your body, but you could at least ground yourself enough to make it through the evening. After this session, you would duck into a private room and take care of yourself. Just hold out that much longer, you thought.

They must have moved on from ribbing you by the time you focused once more. You hadn’t heard any of it, though you were sure they had. At least, Kid would have. Now he was talking about something else, finishing a story you had entirely missed.

“It was a pain in the ass,” Kid paused to take a hit, exhaling before he continued, “but right now? I don’t give a shit anymore.”

Hearing that, it was hard not to feel smug. That was the exact reason you had brought weed for everyone (and why you were in your current predicament.) All for the opportunity for your friends to relax.

“See, I knew it’d mellow you out, Kid,” you said, coming off a little too pleased with yourself and making him glower.

“You didn’t know shit. Mind your tongue,” he said, though the effect of his words was ruined by how tranquil he sounded. “You aren’t getting any free passes because of this.”

You hid a grin. He may have said that, but you knew him better. One of Kid’s better traits was to pay back what he was given, good or bad. You knew for a fact that he would go easier on you for a while for having set everyone up for the night.

“You don’t scare me, Kid. I know you care. Mr. You-will-always-have-a-place-onboard-the-Victoria-Punk.”

“Shut the hell up, Y/n,” he said with no real venom, although you did not miss the faint tinting of red on his cheeks. “Don’t make me put your valuables on the top shelf.”

“Go ahead,” you shrugged. “Wire will get it for me.” You turned your gaze onto Wire, batting your eyelashes cartoonishly. “Won’t you, Wire?”

It looked ridiculous coming from you, and had the desired effect of making him giggle, his face lighting up in a way that tugged at your heart. He smiled down at you fondly. “Sure.”

“Are you whipped?” Kid grumbled. “Don’t tell me you two fucked.”

“We did not,” you interjected before anyone made a dumb comment. Unfortunately, you thought to yourself.

“You did kiss me, though,” Wire said casually.

Oh–so he hadn’t forgotten. The man had no idea what kind of bomb that was to drop on you now, of all times.

“Wire!” you shouted. “That’s–”

“What?!” The other three yelled in unison.

“–not how it happened! You kissed me!” You tried to shout, but no one was listening because the other three, even Killer, had rounded on Wire for some reason.

“You kissed her?”

“I thought we had a deal, you scumbag!”

“When the hell was this?”

“Wait, hold on!” you cried. “What did you say?!”

They were not listening.

“With tongue?”

“You’re a fucking traitor, Wire.”

“Here I thought you were the one with self-control.”

“Will you morons shut the fuck up!” you roared.

They finally went quiet, all staring owlishly at you now.

“Did you–did you say you had a deal? What the fuck does that mean?” You said hotly, glaring at each of them in turn, awaiting an explanation.

Kid gave nothing away, but Wire was blushing, Heat looked guilty, and who knew what Killer was thinking.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” Kid said lightly, waving it off like it was nothing.

“I’m supposed to pretend like I didn’t hear that?” You were feeling distinctly less chill now, trying not to get swept up by the implications. There was no way. They couldn’t be…

“You’re better off not knowing,” Kid proclaimed. “You couldn’t handle it.”

That kind of pissed you off. He didn’t know what your life was like before you joined his crew, nor all that you had gone through to make it as far as you did. What you had to endure. Even what you were currently enduring. 

You licked your lips, thoughts slipping into the red again. “You have no idea what I can handle, Captain.”

Kid was stunned for a moment, not responding right away, and you could audibly hear the slow breath he sucked in. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

You swallowed and looked away quickly, heart pounding a dent inside your chest. “F-Fine. Whatever. Keep it to yourself. Like I care.”

Kid kept watching you, but you didn’t notice, your eyes fixed on the ground now as your imagination spiraled, thoughts racing a mile a minute. What the fuck had they been talking about? There was no way. No possible way they were all interested. Wire, maybe. He had kissed you, though he had also been drunk, so there was no guarantee he was even attracted. But all of them? All four? It couldn’t be. You had to be reading into it. Right? 

Right?

You pushed your feet into the ground, anxious for a sense of stability, trying and failing to tune the others out this time. Weed affected everyone a bit differently, but there were some constants. How much of what you were feeling was also being felt by them? If you felt a sense of connection, were they experiencing it as well? Could they sense your energy? 

Did they know? 

For a brief, terrifying moment, you had the paranoid thought that they could read your mind. Then you pushed it aside. It was impossible. All in your head. Just make it through tonight, and don’t think about it. Don't think about it.

But the universe was a cruel place, or maybe some god above was playing tricks on you. You were certain some higher being was laughing at your expense, because the conversation turned into a discussion of the mens’ past encounters. You could only sit there as Kid and Wire offhandedly commented on particular dalliances while the more reserved two opted to listen. They weren’t detailed, keeping things vague, but it didn’t matter. Your brain grabbed the barest descriptions and drew out a whole movie in your head, filling in the blanks and imagining the events in graphic detail. At first you pictured a random person as their partner, but then it immediately switched to putting yourself in their place, visualizing yourself getting dicked down by your crushes.

You dug your fingers into your thighs, trying to stay cool. It was a mental chess game to function at this point. You analyzed your every action with militaristic scrutiny, frantic not to give anything away, to not appear like the smoldering ball of lust you were. Was your posture too tense? Were you avoiding eye contact too much? Don’t act off. Don’t stay silent. Say something, join in the conversation.

“You guys don’t know how good you have it,” you said carefully, fighting to keep your tone neutral. “I can’t fuck strangers. I just can’t.”

Kid gave you a look of disbelief, which was fair, considering where you were from. “Wait. Have you really not had any since you joined us?”

“She hasn’t,” Wire answered for you, “she told me.” He shot you a devilish smirk. “Right before devouring my mouth.”

“Not how it happened!” You said brusquely, wanting to throttle him right then. “Shut up, Wire!”

“Why don’t you come over here and shut me up?” He challenged coolly, and the slight drop of his eyes when he looked at you told you he had glanced at your lips.

A fresh wave of heat flared under your skin, and you mentally cursed him. Why did he have to be like that? Why now? You scrambled to come up with a retort, but only managed a lame, “Like I could even reach…”

Wire simply bent over in response, hunching down until he was at your level, cheek resting on his fist and a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

Kid clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Knock it off.”

“What?” you snapped at him, not meaning to lash out but feeling like you were rapidly losing control–of the situation, of yourself, of everything. “Are you jealous or something? You want a kiss, too?”

“Oh, please, Y/n,” Kid said, unbothered. “If I wanted a kiss from you, I would have just taken it for myself by now.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the image his words conjured, and you gaped at him for a moment, for once in your life getting a taste of your own medicine as you were rendered speechless. Losing the mental battle of wills, you found yourself unable to maintain eye contact, giving away your timidity by looking away.

Kid studied your reaction, but by some grace, elected not to comment on it. Not that his choice of words was any better, because he asked, “You haven’t cum at all? For years?”

“Of course I have,” you huffed, “given the shared sleeping quarters, I have to take care of it in the shower like everyone else.”

“Is that why your showers take so long?” Heat stated more so than asked.

It was.

“No, it’s not!” you yelled, further revealing how flustered you were by the conversation. The others dissolved into laughter. Heat was grinning, pleased to see you on the receiving end for once. 

“Besides,” you muttered, “it only helps so much. Even with toys.”

“You have toys on the ship?” Kid asked, surprised for some reason.

“Half the crew does, Kid,” you said. “I bet you do, too, so don’t say stupid shit about it.”

Kid smirked, caught. “And it’s still not enough for you, huh?”

This had to be some kind of torture, because every time you thought you were in the clear, things continued to escalate. You would have fled the room if you could live it down, but alas, the others would never let you forget about it. Stuck in a mess of your own making, all you could do was continue the conversation.

“A toy can’t hold you or kiss you,” you said, ignoring the weight of their gazes. “Can’t talk you through it, can’t bite or suck on anything–oh, god damn it.” You dropped your head into your hands, fire billowing in your body as your thoughts surged into overdrive once again. Your fingers curled in your hair and you pulled lightly, seeking any sort of counter-stimulation to bring down the heat. “Ughhh.”

They all watched as you groused, lifting your head with a hopeless sigh. “Fuck, I need to get laid.”

“Dibs,” said all four of them at once. They all looked at each other in surprise, then burst out laughing, curling over themselves.

You experienced the unique sensation of being stunned silent while also wanting to scream, the burning of your flesh now that of embarrassment as well as need. Their laughs would actually be very nice if it wasn’t at your expense, and everything felt so crushingly unfair right then that you growled at them. “Really, guys? That was not an invitation.”

All bullshit, of course. You would have slept with any of them even without the influence of the weed. And now the pace of your heart kicked up, because they had confirmed what you had suspected, but couldn’t quite believe–they were interested. All of them. It wasn’t your imagination.

“Well then, Y/n,” Kid said, “consider this an invitation.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me.” Kid took a hit off the blunt, then leaned forward and exhaled the smoke in your face, the rude action only riling you up worse. “You want a big dick to ride? All you gotta do is ask.”

The fire inside you blazed larger and hotter, and you were aware of your breath coming out shorter. You dropped your gaze to the floor, gritting your teeth. After everything–all the years getting to know them, all the suggestive conversations, all the times you had craved them–after all the longing you pretended wasn’t there–now Kid was laying it out on the table, a clear offer to sate your desires. You could have what you wanted. All you had to do was accept.

Every cell in your body yearned for it, and yet a part of you still resisted, the part that still wanted not to appear desperate. You fought not to stay composed, masking your nervousness with attitude. “Who’s got the big dick, though?”

Kid scowled. “Watch it, little girl.”

The words had an immediate reaction deep in your gut, because Kid had never called you that before. He looked you in the eye while he said it, too, and you knew you failed to hide the momentary panic in your eyes. You ripped your gaze away, hands balling into fists.

At that point, you were so worked up and so wet that you couldn’t move without feeling it. The lightest shift in your seat had your lower lips sliding against each other slickly, the hypersensitivity from the high meaning you felt it like sparks. Even the fabric of your bra against your nipples was overwhelming.

“Are you okay?” Heat asked, and you realized you were trembling.

“All good,” you bit out.

“You’re sweating,” Wire said.

“And you were worried about me overdoing it.” Kid tsk’d. “Handle your shit, Y/n.”

“It’s handled,” you insisted. “I’m fine.”

“You sure about that, princess?”

He knows! You thought in a panic. If Kid’s words didn’t make that obvious, the curl of his lip certainly did. Your thoughts descended into near-hysteria, like a beehive had been upended in your head. Through the chaos was also the bemoaning thought that he was such an asshole, messing with you like this.

“Poor little Y/n,” Kid continued, smirking. “So pent-up. So many years without getting fucked.”

“Kid…” You nearly whined, voice quivering as much as your body was.

Movement in your peripheral vision made you glance to the side, just in time to see Killer reaching out to touch your arm, the contact like pure electricity on your skin. You jerked your arm away and grabbed his wrist, fingers unable to wrap all the way around, tightening your grip in warning.

“Do not–do not fucking touch me right now. Don’t tease me,” you hissed.

“You’re a real idiot sometimes, you know that?” Kid griped. Your resulting glare was offset by how you bit your lip, and Kid rolled his eyes. “I know you want it. That you’ve been wanting it. And yet you always hold yourself back. You’ll say the nastiest things while looking us dead in the eye and then just disappear. I don’t know if it’s some sort of pride you’re clinging to, or if you’re secretly shy underneath it all. But for fuck’s sake, Y/n, it’s getting hard to watch. Why don’t you do yourself a favor and just indulge? Let yourself have something nice, for once.”

Your jaw dropped further and further as he spoke, gawking at how he mercilessly called you out. Then you shut your mouth, swallowed a lump in your throat, and dropped your head, covering your face.

“You want to get fucked tonight, don’t you?” You heard Kid say.

“...Yes,” you mumbled into your hands, but the room was so quiet now that you were sure everyone heard.

“Then get over yourself, pick a guy, and go to another room.”

He made it sound so simple. 

Maybe he was right. Why were you making it more complex than it needed to be? Why couldn’t you just let yourself have this? But even if you succumbed to your desires, there was another problem.

“But… But, um,” you stammered. “How could I possibly choose? I lov–I like all of you!...”

A humiliating slip-up, one you expected them to tease you about, but there was only silence. You braved a peek at them from between your fingers. All eyes were on you–the pointing of Killer’s mask in your direction left no doubt–and then the guys glanced at each other, exchanging looks you couldn’t quite decipher, but that made something curl in your stomach anyway.

“Maybe,” Kid said slowly, gauging your reaction, “you don’t have to.”

You felt something change in the room. Like the air got heavier, though it could have been the smoke–although the group’s pace had slowed, the blunts never stopped their rotation. You weren’t sure which one you were on anymore, only that there was something else drifting alongside the undulating smoke, something that tingled like the air before a storm.

You lowered your hands so you could look at Kid clearly, keeping your mouth covered. There was no playfulness in his expression, only an ardent luster to the black of his eyes, the gold of his irises constricted into a thin band.

“Kid?” You only said his name, but the full question was implied. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

“I’m serious. You could strip down right here, and we’ll figure something out,” Kid said, “if you really think you can handle it, like you so claimed.”

The challenge went over your head. You were too distracted by how your fervent body roused at the notion, every aching cell screaming at you to accept, any opposing thought quickly drowned out by sheer, unbearable need. You had been gradually wound more and more taught throughout the night, and the last threads of resistance were beginning to snap. 

You lowered your hands, so your consent would be fully comprehensible, but you were cut off before you had the chance to respond.

“Wait,” Wire said, the concern in his tone grabbing everyone’s attention. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

The swell of disappointment within you threatened to be crushing. You couldn’t keep it out of your voice. “Oh… You don’t want to?”

“Of course I want to, dummy,” Wire said, “but, Y/n. You’ve never slept with any of us before. To jump into doing something intense like this? While we’re all under the influence? There are risks.”

“I really don’t care at the moment.”

Kid smirked at your eagerness, but Wire wasn’t amused. “Have you ever been with multiple partners?”

“I’ve been in a threesome!” you said quickly. “I can handle it, Wire!”

“Mm… I dunno,” Wire considered. Heat passed the blunt to him right then, and the pause in which you had to wait for him to take his hit was agonizing. Wire watched the smoke he exhaled rise before meeting your eye again. “There should at least be a discussion first. About limits and stuff.”

“Please, I can’t wait anymore!” Keeping your voice down was its own trial. You could have cried from frustration. “I fucked up, okay? I got the wrong strain, and it’s driving me insane. I’ve been practically edging on the spot, and you four are just sitting there, all relaxed and having fun and unfairly hot…” You resisted the urge to cover your face again, but couldn’t help avoiding eye contact while admitting it. It surprised you, then, to hear who spoke up next.

“We could start slow,” Heat suggested, a blush coloring his face, “one person at a time. Discuss anything else as we go.”

You glanced at Wire hopefully, and found that everyone else was doing the same. In the back of your mind, you vaguely wondered why the decision seemed to hinge on Wire rather than Kid, but you didn’t question it in the moment.

Wire passed you the blunt, the mere slide of his giant fingers past yours as he did enough to make you shiver. He watched your reaction, then assessed the other three in the circle, one at a time. By the time he looked back at you, you had taken your hit, and your eyes met as the smoke flowed from your parted lips.

“Tch,” Wire’s shoulders drooped slightly in defeat. “Alright. If you’re gonna look at me like that. But at least choose a safeword.”

“I don’t care,” you said.

“I do,” he snapped, the stern rebuke going straight between your legs, “pick something.”

“Fine...” It was a struggle to come up with anything with the prospect of having them so close by, and you raced to think of something. The reason for your current state flashed through your head. “Red Sky?”

“Works for me. Everyone hear that?” Wire questioned, waiting for verbal confirmation from the other three before he nodded his approval.

You passed the blunt to Killer, pressing your thighs together in anticipation. “Um… How are we going to do this?”

Kid’s smirk widened, as fiendish as you’d ever seen it. “I think we should pass her around like a blunt.”

Once more, you found yourself gaping at Kid, slack-jawed at the lecherous idea. It was depraved, it was objectifying, and you were, truth be told, not the least bit opposed–you would have had them any way they offered at that point. Anything to ease the fever.

“Y/n,” Killer said firmly, making you tense, “come here.”

He had said it like a command, tone no different than if he were giving orders on the ship. You responded instinctively, drawn to Killer like a magnet, feeling as if your body wasn’t yours to control anymore. His mask dipped as you stood before him, looking you up and down.

“Sit.” Killer patted his lap. “Facing them.”

You swallowed and turned, perching on Killer’s knee. He grabbed your hips, making you gasp, and dragged you back until your back touched his chest, situating you directly over his crotch.

Killer’s hands never left your hips, your skin buzzing where he made contact, even through your clothes. His chin rested on your shoulder, deep voice murmuring into your ear. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. The other three leaned forward in their seats, making you realize rather belatedly that everything that was about to happen would have an audience. You had never been watched before, and you didn’t know how you’d feel about it. But that thought, and any others, promptly flew out the window when Killer’s hands started their slow slide up your body, curving to the front and cupping your breasts.

You pressed yourself back against his chest, breaths coming out shaky. He was only squeezing and massaging gently, but after everything you had to endure so far, as roiled as you were, it was enough to send pleasant little shocks throughout your entire body.

Little shocks immediately turned into powerful bolts as Killer started teasing your nipples, your body jerking in response. You were sensitive enough there without the weed factoring in–as high as you currently were, it was overwhelming.

“Ah! K-Killer!” You pulled at his hands. “Please, slow down! I’m extra sensitive there, and the weed makes it ten times worse, so you gotta go slow…”

“You are, huh?” Killer hummed, flicking a nipple just to make you yelp.

“I thought you could handle this, Y/n,” Kid taunted.

“Whatever, Kid! You can watch, but I don’t need your lip,” your snarl didn’t sound nearly as threatening when it came between breathy pants. “Wait your turn and–nhh!”

Killer chose to resume touching you right then, rubbing your nipples at an appropriately slower pace. The tingling went straight to your cunt, and you threw your head back onto his shoulder, whimpering.

“Better?” Killer asked softly, and at your hasty nodding, you felt his chuckle against your back.

As incredible as it felt, it only made the need worse, the burning of your flesh intensifying under Killer’s touch. You writhed in his lap, desperate for stimulation between your legs, but you weren’t at the right angle to grind your clit against anything, and Killer was pressing your torso to his to keep you in place. Held against him and unable to escape, you could only take it, able to feel the calluses on his fingertips even through a shirt and bra. Killer let out a pleased growl at the sensation of you squirming over his growing bulge, the sound making you clench around nothing.

“Damn,” Wire muttered. “Look at her writhe.”

The other three were now sporting obvious erections, Wire and Kid idly palming at themselves while Heat elected to just watch.

“It’s the weed,” Kid responded, smirking. “I’ve been half hard ever since the first blunt, but I didn’t think much of it until she got all cagey about the strain.”

“The name is obvious enough,” Heat agreed.

So Kid had you figured out all along. Go figure. You weren’t paying much attention to that right then, though, not under Killer’s cruel assault.

“Please, Killer,” you whined, “stop teasing!”

“Gotta make sure you’re ready, first,” Killer said. “None of us are average, Y/n. I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“I’m ready!” You almost sobbed. “I–ah!–I promise, I’m wet!”

Killer paused, mask tipping down over your shoulder. “You don’t say.”

You followed his gaze (so to speak) to see a damp spot on your pants–you had soaked through both layers. “See? I told you, I’m ready!”

“Soon,” Killer assured, resuming his slow teasing of your chest.

Every time you thought you had adjusted enough to keep from making noise, Killer would switch it up, circling or skimming over the pert buds, drawing more whimpers out of you. He played you like an instrument, a steady chorus of your soft cries in time with his fingers, and the other three were as enraptured as if it was a song. All your nerves ablaze and still being denied what you needed, you looked to your audience for help. Kid and Wire weren’t moved by your plight, but as soon as you locked gazes with Heat, he rose to his feet as if you had called out to him.

Heat crossed the short distance and sank to his knees in front of you and Killer, resting his hands on your thighs.

“What happened to one person at a time?” Kid grumbled.

Heat ignored him, leaning in to kiss you but pausing before he made contact. “Can I–” he started to ask, but you grabbed his face and pulled him in the rest of the way, crushing your lips against his to really get across the kind of state you were in. Just to make sure he understood, you shoved your tongue past his lips. Heat’s small moan of surprise was muffled, but then he eagerly reciprocated.

Heat matched your pace, returning everything you gave him with equal passion, and you quivered in anticipation as his hands slid up your thighs. Instead of going between your legs, though, they went to the hem of your shirt, and as Heat moved to kiss your neck, you realized he hadn’t come to help anyone but himself.

“Heat?” you inquired.

“Lift your arms,” he instructed, ignoring your question.

“But–”

“Lift your arms.”

You clenched at the command, not expecting it from the normally laid-back man. He was still blushing, but there was an intensity in his tone that had you complying right away, though not without an irritated huff. Heat nipped at your neck as a reward for listening before he pulled your shirt off.

Killer’s mask touched the back of your neck like he was kissing it. “Kid’s gonna like that tattoo,” he whispered as he unfastened the clasp of your bra. You barely paid attention to the comment, helping him remove it and tossing it onto the nearby bed.

Heat stared, transfixed, at your breasts. When no one made a move to continue, you started to consider violence. “Heat…”

“You have cute tits,” Heat said.

“Whatever!” You were about to strangle him, and not in a sexy way. “Would you just hurry and–”

Heat cut you off by kissing your nipple, making you gasp, and when he took it into his mouth, your back arched into him. “H-Heat!”

Killer’s prior touches might as well have been through a heavy blanket. It didn’t compare to the wet warmth of Heat’s mouth directly on your sensitive bud, nor the velvety texture of his tongue running over it. You reached to bury your fingers in his hair, but then Killer grabbed your wrists and forced them behind your back. The ache between your legs magnified at the restraint, and you didn’t think it was physically possible to be any more worked up, but then Heat proved you wrong by starting to suck.

You twitched and writhed, pulling weakly against Killer’s iron-like grip, helpless under Heat’s assault. He switched from one nipple to the other, bringing his hand to play with whichever his mouth wasn’t currently on. It felt like live wires had been laid through your body, running straight to your cunt, making you want to cry with how empty you were. You clenched and flexed your pelvic floor muscles, desperate for sensation, and somehow, you felt something start to build, as steadily as if you had been playing with yourself. You had never come without touching your clit before, but now you understood how it was possible, your cunt so sensitive that clenching alone brought sufficient stimulation. But right when you thought you could see the peak, right when you were certain you could make it, the build stopped, leveling off and leaving you stuck. Even the scrape of Heat’s teeth against your nipple, though maddening, wasn’t enough to get you there.

“Please!” You cried out in frustration, on the verge of tears. “Please touch me, Heat, Killer, anybody! Please!”

“You’ve endured it for so long, haven’t you?” Killer said huskily, moving your wrists to one hand, resting the other on your hip and squeezing hard. “That’s okay. We’re gonna take care of you…”

You were about to snap at him that no one was taking care of shit, but your remark caught in your throat when Killer’s hand slipped under your pants and underwear, inching forward until he was finally, finally reaching where you needed it. His wide hand parted your thighs, going straight for your slit, the brush of him over your clit along the way making you buck.

“Wow,” Killer said as he felt the evidence of your need, everything between your skin and clothes down there a thick, slippery film. “I thought you were exaggerating about how riled up you were. But the weed’s really done a number on you, hasn’t it?”

There was no resistance when he penetrated you with a thick finger, and you bucked your hips again with a sharp cry. “Oh! Oh, fuck! Killer!”

“Never seen anyone this wet before,” Killer mused, stroking a few times before inserting a second finger. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in little circles.

Heat’s messy slurps combined with the squelches of Killer’s fingering only amplified the experience. After everything you had gone through, it didn’t take very long, especially with the two of them working together. Killer added a third finger and curled them insistently as he went, and you came hard a few seconds later.

You shut your eyes from the intensity, hips grinding furiously into Killer’s hand as you rode it out, whimpering with every wave that rocked your body. He never stopped probing his fingers against that spot, working you deftly through it until the fluttering of your walls finally stopped and you slumped against his chest, panting.

Heat kept on sucking on your nipple, the stimulation rapidly becoming overwhelming in the wake of your orgasm. “Heat–Heat, Heat!” With your head fuzzy with dopamine, you couldn’t form a better sentence, higher functions temporarily absent.

Luckily, Killer had been able to feel everything. He let go of your wrists to push Heat back by the shoulder, the pop of his lips disconnecting making you twitch. You twitched again when Killer pulled his fingers out.

The residual throbbing of your clit lasted longer than it ever had, aftershocks of an orgasm while high spreading through your body like lightning branching through your nerves. You didn’t open your eyes for a minute, chest heaving. When you did, the first thing you saw was Heat’s look of adoration. Behind him, Kid and Wire were burning holes through you with their gazes, both of them red-faced and awestruck. It dawned on you that you’ve cum in front of four guys. In front of your superiors. Your friends. And yet, instead of shame, instead of self-consciousness, the pulsing within you subsided and left behind a fervent hunger in its place.

Again. You needed it again.

Killer brought his hand to your mouth, fingers glistening with your slick. You parted your lips without hesitation, letting him in. The tang of your fluid on your tongue reawakened spent nerves, making you sensitive all over again. Killer let out a soft curse when you sucked, tongue sliding between his fingers to get every drop. Your eyes fell closed again, focused wholly on the act of cleaning up your own mess.

Killer peered down at your face and hummed. “Open your eyes. I want you to look at them.”

You obeyed, making eye contact with each of the other three while you sucked your slick off Killer’s fingers, fresh heat searing through your body at how they marveled at you. Kid had started stroking himself through his clothes with his flesh hand, his expression in particular full of dark intent.

“There’s a good girl,” Killer praised, “see what you do to them…”

You pulled Killer’s hand out of your mouth. “Killer,” you whined, grinding your ass against him in a clear signal to go further.

Cumming in Killer’s lap and sucking on his fingers had its effect on him, because he was harder than before, pressing stiffly into your ass cheek and breathing heavily by your ear. So it came as a shock when he raised his head and said, “Kid. You can go first.”

“Nah, Killer, you go ahead,” Kid said, waving his metal hand. “According to the sounds she just made, you earned it.”

“You go first. I know you’ve wanted this for a while,” Killer insisted.

“I don’t care who goes first!” you yelled, the revelation of Kid’s interest fading into the background in your desire. “For fuck’s sake, just whip it out!”

They all laughed at that, which only pissed you off further. Then Kid’s voice echoed across the room, sending a pleasant chill down your spine.

“Pass her here.”

Killer scooped you up and leaned over, holding you out to Kid like you weren’t a whole adult. The chairs were close enough together that Kid could reach you without getting up, merely holding out his metal arm and letting Killer drop you onto his palm. His arm didn’t even dip with your weight.

Kid tipped his hand suddenly so you fell into his lap, momentum throwing you against his chest and making you instinctively grab him for support.

“I get it, Y/n. You’re desperate. But you don’t have to grab me over it,” he jeered, and not for the first time in your life, you seriously contemplated striking your captain.

“Hold on,” Wire said, patting his pockets and frowning. “Does anyone have condoms?”

“Not an issue,” you said abruptly, “I’m set on birth control.”

“I thought you didn’t get any,” Heat asked, now back in his chair.

“There are other reasons to take birth control. It makes your menstrual symptoms less severe.”

“I knew that,” Wire said, sounding proud of himself.

”No one cares! Get on with it!”

Kid looked thoughtful, smile faltering as he deliberated over something. “...Wire may be right, actually.”

“What?” You stared at him.

“I mean, four guys, after you haven’t had a partner in years? It’s far too much. You could end up hurt.”

You searched his eyes, trying to figure out where this sudden change of heart came from. It was so unlike Kid that you didn’t even protest at first, bewildered.

“I wouldn’t want you to walk away from this with regrets, Y/n,” Kid said gravely. “You’ve come once already, so that should be adequate. End the night on a good note.”

“No! No, I can keep going! Please, please!” you bid urgently.

Kid’s somber look broke at your plea, his lip curling like he was trying not to smile, and you realized that he was messing with you. Arousal flipped into anger in an instant.

“You’re such a dick!” you cried. “I can’t believe you! I know you want it too, so stop fucking with me and start fucking me already!”

Kid’s infuriating smirk grew wider. “Beg for my cock.”

“Ugh! Fine, you jerk!” You ground your hips into his bulge to help make your point, face flushed hot as you glared at him. “Please, Kid! I–I need you. I need to be violated in the way that only a ruthless pirate captain can.”

It was kind of stupid, but Kid was vain enough that the words got to him anyway, his nostrils flaring with the steep breath he took. “That easy, huh? I always knew deep down, you were a slut.”

You slapped him, hard. The slap echoed as the room fell quiet, and though Kid was momentarily stunned, you felt his dick twitch through his pants.

“You’re the one making me beg–” you started to say, but Kid grabbed you by the neck and pulled you in for a rough, possessive kiss. He wasted no time in claiming your mouth with his tongue, probing it deep to wrap around yours. You moaned into his mouth, grinding on him for some much-needed friction. Kid pulled back, but you followed, straining forward to kiss him again.

The fingers of his flesh hand curled into your hair, gripping tight and forcing you back off of him. The slight pain pulled another little moan out of you, and Kid grinned.

“One more time. Tell me how bad you need it,” he said huskily.

“I think I’m gonna die if you don’t,” you whined.

“Good girl.”

He prompted you to lift your hips so he could reach his pants, undoing them and finally, finally pulling out his cock. You pulled your own pants and underwear down before Kid could think to rip them, not keen on doing a bottomless walk of shame in front of the crew later. Kicking off the garments, you repositioned yourself over Kid. He groaned when you wrapped your hand around his thickness to line yourself up.

“Fuck,” he husked. “If your pussy’s as small as your hands…”

“Wait, Kid,” Killer interjected. “Make her face us.”

“Why?” Kid asked, but you had already started to turn around in his lap to comply with Killer’s wishes. Kid’s voice suddenly dropped low, heavy with interest. “Oh.”

“What?” You glanced over your shoulder, where Kid’s eyes were boring into the spot right below the back of your neck. You realized he had never seen your tattoo before. “Oh, my ta–ahh!”

Kid slid two fingers up through your slit, finishing with a little circle around your clit that made your legs weaken. “Now when did you go and get that done?” he murmured.

“Fewmonthsago,” you slurred. “Kid…”

He grabbed your hips, positioning you over his cock. “I wouldn’t have made you wait so long if I had known. You’ve been dedicated all this time, haven’t you?” He guided you down slowly, thick cock parting you gradually.

You bit your lip and nodded, that aching within you finally eased. Kid’s grip tightened as your hips met, digging into your skin.

“Shit,” he cursed. “You’re really wet. Killer wasn’t joking. Now, face forward.”

You turned your head back to look at the other three. Everyone else had taken their dicks out at that point and were stroking themselves, Heat’s free hand holding a still-burning blunt. You glanced between them–all eyes were on you, making you burn up even hotter. Their gazes felt like a physical sensation on your skin. Your own gaze faltered, though, when a harsh smack landed on your ass.

“Ah!” you yelped, the sting both grounding you and riling you up worse.

“Captain, at least ask if she likes it first,” Wire admonished.

“She got tighter, Wire,” Kid responded, groping your ass cheeks. “I think she likes it just fine.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, starting to move. With your feet unable to touch the floor, you had to use your thighs to squeeze Kid’s lap and lift yourself up and down, but you had plenty of stamina to go at that point and a monstrous, intoxicated desire spurring you on. You set a quick, needy pace, fucking yourself on his rigid cock so he hit all the right spots, making whimpers slip out between your panting breaths. You rolled your hips whenever they met Kid’s, grinding him into your g-spot deliciously.

“Fuck,” Kid groaned, and smacked your other ass cheek, making you moan. “Look at you go, princess. I’m gonna cum soon if you don’t calm down.” He grabbed your hips and dug his fingers in tightly, forcing you to stop. You cried out in protest, your pleasure mercilessly cut off. “Kid!”

Kid leaned in and kissed your tattoo, moving your hips up and down at a cruelly slow pace and ignoring your cries.

“Kid, go faster! Please!” you begged.

“No,” he said, and even without facing him you could hear the grin in his voice. “You have to earn it.”

“How?!”

“By being honest, for once.” He kissed your tattoo again, and this time let his tongue drag over the inked skin, making a shiver run down your spine. “Did I hear you correctly earlier, Y/n? You haven’t just been flirting with us for fun…” He pulled you down on his cock, holding your hips down and rolling his up into you. “You’ve caught some feelings as well, so say it again.”

“What do I say?” you whined, too needy to remember.

“You said you love us,” Wire said smugly, now in possession of the blunt.

“Oh!” you said, both in surprise and because Kid was fucking you slowly and deeply now. “I…b-but…”

“Shy now?” Heat chuckled.

“That’s so embarrassing, come on,” you protested, “just hurry up and go faster, Kid!”

Kid’s lips pressed to your tattoo again, and you could feel his lips curl into a smirk. “No.”

“I don’t think that pace is gonna change until you say it,” Killer mused.

“Fine!” you huffed, then lowered your voice. “I… I love you…”

“What was that?” Kid asked.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Killer said.

Wire grinned, and Heat shook his head. “Me neither.”

Your face burned. “I love you,” you said again, though it was still a bit quiet in your embarrassment.

“Louder,” Kid commanded, slowing his pace even further until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Kid, please. I love you.”

“You can do better than that. Tell us how you really feel.”

“I love you!” you whined. Kid picked up his pace ever so slightly.

“And Killer?”

“Y-Yes! I love him too!”

“And W–”

“And Wire and Heat! All of you!”

“Say it again!” Kid smacked your ass.

“Ah-! I love you!” you cried it out, again and again, and Kid did not fuck you properly until you were screaming it. Only then did he give you what you needed, bouncing you on his cock fervently with his metal hand. Everyone watched, enraptured, three pairs of eyes on you, on your bouncing breasts, on the point where your body met Kid’s.

“My loyal girl,” Kid praised, tongue on your tattoo again, “you like getting fucked by your captain?”

“Yes!”

“Wanna be shared by everyone?”

“Yes! I’m, I’m gonna cum-!”

“Who do you belong to?”

“The Kid Pirates!” you cried.

“Good girl. Now, cum on my cock for everyone to see.”

You came hard, orgasm hitting you like a battering ram, making your body tighten and lock up. Kid held you down as you pulsed around him, cursing as he tried to keep himself from tipping over the edge along with you.

For a minute, there was nothing but the soft sound of slapping around you as the other three jacked off to the sight of your bliss. You went limp against Kid, panting.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Heat muttered. “So fucking hot.”

“Have some discipline, Heat,” Kid said above you, “you’re next anyway.”

“Ugh, I hate edging.” Heat let go of himself, holding his hand away.

“It’ll be worth it,” Wire said. “Don’t let the weed make you finish early.”

“Easy for you to say, Wire. You do this kind of thing all the time.”

As your fuzzy brain started to grasp cognitive thought once more, you wondered if that was why Wire seemed to be in charge here. You always knew he was kinky, but never realized just how much experience he had.

Killer, who’d been holding onto the blunt while Kid was occupied, now passed it to Kid, who took a deep hit before offering it to you. You held up your hand in refusal, needing to catch up on oxygen first.

“How you holding up, Y/n?” Wire asked.

“Fucking fantastic,” you said earnestly, making them all laugh.

“Who’s great idea was this, again?” Kid asked, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you said, shifting and dismounting off him, making him grunt from the stimulation. You pecked him on the lips, silently grateful that he had pushed you past your nervousness. “Thanks, Captain.”

Kid smirked proudly as you started to slide off his lap, and he grabbed your wrist to stop you from walking away. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re passing you around, remember?” With that, he pulled you back into him and picked you up, making you squeak in surprise, before stepping over to Heat and setting you down onto his lap.

Heat’s blush deepened as you immediately recovered and hooked your arms around his neck. He parted his lips when you leaned in to kiss him, his tongue sliding over yours, gently stroking and intertwining, making you moan sweetly. He started touching himself again, which you noticed once Heat started to gasp into your mouth.

“Heat, wait,” you said. “Let me.”

Heat moved his hand away, and you replaced it with your own. The feeling of something metallic and hard against your palm made you pause, pulling your hand away to look. Heat had his dick pierced, a frenum ladder–a set of parallel barbells going up the underside and stopping at the frenum.

“Oh, wow,” you said, running your thumb down the underside of his cock to feel the metal underneath. Heat groaned, his dick twitching. “Is it sensitive?”

“Yes,” he hissed, closing his hand around yours and making you start to jerk him off. “Don’t be a tease.”

“Says you! You were the one who tormented me earlier!”

“You look good when you’re needy,” Heat bit out, thrusting up into your hand. “I couldn’t help it. Now squeeze harder.”

“No, I wanna try something else,” you said, stopping. “I want to know what it feels like in my mouth.”

“Nope, sorry. I’ll come too quickly and have to sit out the rest of the session.”

You frowned. “Fiiiine. You’d better make up for it, then.”

Heat’s brows raised, then his eyes narrowed, and suddenly you felt as if you possibly made a mistake in your choice of words.

“Uh oh,” Wire said, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Make up for it?” Heat sneered down at you. “Do you think I don’t know what I’m doing?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Heat,” you tried to placate him, but his tight grip on your hips told you that you were in trouble.

“Come here,” he snapped, pulling you to hover over his dick. “I don’t have a metal arm like Kid to toss you around with–so instead, you’re going to do what I say.”

It was so unlike Heat that you found yourself complying right away, resting your hands on his shoulders. “Or what?” you teased.

“Or we’ll find out your limits the hard way, regardless of what Wire says,” Heat lined himself up with your entrance, “I get the feeling you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“How should I know? I’ve never tried–oh…” You lost your words as Heat guided you to sink down onto his length. He was thicker toward the base, letting you feel each one of his piercings slide along your sensitive insides. “Oh, fuck, that’s–that’s good...”

Heat smirked. “Like the piercings?”

“Yes!” You rolled your hips to feel them move inside you, your eyelids fluttering shut. “Fuck.”

“Eyes on me, babe.” Heat instructed, and you snapped your eyes open to see him looking at you intensely, the hunger in his gaze sending prickles all over your skin. He slid his hands up your sides to your front, groping your breasts, pulling a moan out of you when he rubbed your nipples with his thumbs. You look down to watch him do it, contracting around him at the sight, and Heat corrected you with a harsh slap to your ass.

“Ah!”

“She does tighten up,” Heat grinned, his arm muscles flexing as he delivered a second firm smack.

“Heat!”

“Eyes up.”

You kept your eyes on him this time, even as he teased and tugged at your nipples. Gripping him tight, you rolled your hips again, the combination of the piercings and your chest being played with nearly making your eyes roll back. “Oh, fuck. Spank me again.”

Heat grinned. “Ask nicely.”

“Please!”

“Attagirl.” Heat smacked your other ass cheek, making you cry out. “What do you say?”

“T-Thank you!”

He chuckled. “You’re cute, you know that?” One of his hands snaked its way up your chest and around your throat, fingers wrapping around your neck.

Wire spoke up, his voice a firm admonishment. “Heat.”

“M’not squeezin’,” Heat said, pulling you in for another greedy kiss. You eagerly reciprocated, sucking on his tongue and making him groan. “Fuck…Come on, ride me.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. You planted your feet on the floor and started to lift yourself up and down on his cock, whimpering at the unique sensation of riding a pierced dick. Heat was already filling you up, to feel the barbells stimulating you on top of it was almost overwhelming in your intoxicated state.

“There’s a good girl,” Heat moaned. “Oh, fuck. Look at you.”

Heat fondled your chest as you rode him at a brisk, even pace, rolling your hips to grind your clit into him. You felt yourself rapidly approach the edge, until he pinched your nipple a little too hard, and the pain brought you out of it with a yelp.

“Ah-! Too hard, Heat,” you whimpered.

“See?” Wire said. “This is why you have to discuss these things. We really should have started by now.”

“Isn’t it too late?” Kid asked.

“No.”

“Where do we start, then?” Killer wondered.

“With what she wants out of this,” Wire said. “If she can even focus right now.”

You could not, especially when Heat chose right then to smack your ass again, which brought you right back to the edge. “Fuck, Heat!”

“Gonna cum, pretty girl?” Heat whispered huskily.

“Yes! I’m close!”

“That’s too bad–I want you to slow down.”

“W-What?”

“You heard me.” Heat lifted his legs so you could no longer reach the floor, your riding stopped in an instant.

“Ahh, no no no, Heat! Don’t stop!” you protested, trying to stretch your legs to reach the floor again, but he was much taller than you were.

“Only if you agree to slow down.” Heat said, massaging your breasts. “Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll do anything, just let me keep going, please!”

“Then ride me, slowly, and pay attention to what we’re talking about.” Heat lowered his legs again, graciously letting you reach the floor. “Otherwise I’ll just stop again when you’re about to cum.”

You nodded, slowly working yourself up and down his shaft. It was torturous to go at that pace after all you had been treated to, but the moment you sped up, he would just stop you anyway.

The blunt was passed to Heat at that moment, and he took a deep hit. With his other hand, he pulled you closer to him by the neck, sealing his lips around yours. You followed his lead, inhaling as he exhaled, filling your lungs with smoke.

Heat didn’t force you to take his entire hit, knowing he could handle bigger lungfuls than you could, and you both exhaled at the same time. He passed the blunt to Wire and placed both hands on your face, pulling you in again for a kiss that tasted of smoke.

“You listenin’?” Heat asked. He was looking at you with adoration now, and you nodded, wanting nothing more than to please him. “Wire asked you what you want out of this.”

He went back to massaging your chest the way you liked, playing with your nipples more gently while you rolled your hips and whimpered, trying to think while being teased. Your brain was already high on weed and dick–what more could you want? If you could do absolutely anything more than this, what would you do?

A mental image suddenly came into your mind. Of course. The only thing better than being used by all of them would be being used by all of them at the same time. You pictured it vividly, taking them in all three of your holes at once, and the thought turned you on so much that suddenly you were at the edge again. It only took one more roll of your hips before your orgasm snuck up on you, making you tremble all over as you choked on a gasp.

“She’s cumming,” Heat announced as you fluttered around him. “Fuuuck.”

“From that pace?” Killer asked. “Is she reaching her limit?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Kid said.

“I’m with Kid. It’s something else,” Wire said. “Come on, Y/n, use your words.”

You sagged against Heat as your orgasm pulsed through your insides, muttering against his chest. Heat laughed. “She said she knows what she wants,” he said. “I think she just had a nice little mental image to get off to.”

Heat rubbed your back as you came down, then had you dismount him. He picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, stepping over and letting you fall into Wire’s big arms.

“Well?” Wire said, repositioning you so you were sitting and facing the group. He rubbed your hips fondly. “Tell us what you want, and we’ll make it happen.”

You turned to look at Wire’s dick up close. He was proportional to his height, twice as big as the others at least. There was a single frenum piercing that you immediately went to touch.

“Pay attention,” Wire said, though he made no move to stop you.

 At that point, you had not an ounce of reservation or shame left to be found. “I want everyone at the same time,” you said. “All holes.”

“Ohh?” Wire said. Kid whistled, and Heat chuckled in surprise while Killer leaned forward in interest.

“I’ve…I’ve always wanted to try something like that,” you admitted. “I can handle it.”

Wire bent down to kiss the top of your head. “Alright. We’ll work up to it, but first things first. Sorry to ask, but when was the last time you went to the bathroom?” After you told him, he nodded. “Then we should be fine for anal.”

“And in the meantime…” you said, lifting up on your knees and going to straddle his cock, but Wire turned you back around to face the group, pressing down on your shoulders so you were forced to sit further up on his lap. “Wire?”

“You’re not ready for me yet,” Wire said. “Maybe after another rotation.”

“What?! Come on!”

“Hush.” Wire pulled you back by the hips so you could feel his big cock nestled against your ass, an unfair tease of what you could potentially have had he not been so damn concerned for your well-being.

Before you could protest, Wire ran his huge hands down your body, one of them spreading your legs. Two thick fingers burrowed their way down and penetrated you, the length of them making it easy for him to reach your g-spot with a slight curling motion.

“Oh, fuck!” you gasped, squeezing around his fingers.

“Let’s get this started. For your sake, I’ll condense what we need to go through as much as possible without you getting hurt. Okay?”

“Okay!”

“There’s my good girl.” Wire rewarded you by rubbing your clit with his thumb, making your toes curl. He stopped far too soon as he began his questioning. “Now, what are your hard limits? The things you will absolutely not do?”

“Mm, fuck…Hard limits?” you echoed, trying to think while he had two fingers massaging your g-spot. “Um, um… No watersports. And, no calling me really mean things? ‘Slut’ and ‘whore’ and stuff are fine, though, but I don’t want to be actually insulted.”

“You prefer being teased about what you like, right? Rather than being told you’re only good for sex, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, you understand. I don’t like being called stupid or useless.”

“Fair enough,” said Killer, one hand on his dick while the other held the blunt to a hole in his mask. “I don’t like that kind of thing either.”

“You can call me a dumb slut any day,” Heat muttered, surprising you and making Kid laugh, “but I get it.”

“And I don’t want to be throat-fucked really hard,” you said. “I want you to use my mouth, but only go into my throat at the end to cum. Actually, I’d rather you came in my mouth than on my face–hhn!”

Wire resumed rubbing your clit again as a reward for your honesty, short-circuiting your brain until he stopped. “Deepthroating once is okay, only at the end. No finishing on your face. What else?”

You continued that way, detailing your limits while getting fingered, with Wire teasing your clit every time you finished answering a question. Wire added a third finger inside you once he moved on to asking you about positions, and by the time the safety discussion was done, he didn’t let up playing with your clit, either. His fingers curled and rubbed against your g-spot in perfect rhythm with his thumb, his other hand teased your chest, and, legs shaking, you came hard into his hand a few blissful minutes later.

“Aw, my sweet little girl can’t stop cumming for her superiors,” Wire praised, turning your head to kiss you. “Love how you use that crazy stamina of yours for us.”

“I’d do anything for you,” you said earnestly, a little drunk on the rush of your orgasm.

Wire blinked for a moment in surprise, then smiled, running his other hand over your head adoringly. “All the more reason you deserve this. Now, clean up this mess you made,” he said, holding his slick-coated fingers to your lips, “and I’ll pass you to Killer.”

You held Wire’s hand in your smaller ones as you licked and sucked on his fingers. He probed inside your mouth teasingly, rubbing your tongue and feeling around, working you back up so you’d be nice and needy for Killer. As if that would be an issue–with the Red Sky in your blood, you knew you could go all night. You wanted to go all night.

“Don’t miss a single spot,” Wire muttered in your ear, and you complied, tongue weaving in-between his fingers obediently. “Do you like how you taste?”

“Uh-huh,” you said honestly, sending a noticeable wave of excitement through the group.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Heat groaned, letting his tongue loll out as he stroked himself.

“She sure makes it look good, doesn’t she, Killer?” Kid grinned. “Why don’t you eat her out later?”

“Yeah,” Killer replied, a breathiness to his voice, fisting himself faster. “I intend to.”

Letting you cool down this way gave you the chance to really focus on watching the others, and you never realized how tantalizing it was to watch the three men you crushed on jack off at the sight of you. Thrilled and impatient, you pulled Wire’s hand away. “I want Killer now.”

Killer growled in excitement at your words, sending a shiver up your spine. Wire took mercy on the both of you, deciding you had done a good enough job. He scooped you up, carrying you bridal-style, and handed you off to the masked man.

Killer, eager to have you to himself for a little while, opted to have you facing him. 

“What the hell, man? Face her forward,” Kid complained.

“No,” Killer said, “I want to see her face when I make her cum.”

He didn’t miss how you squirmed on his lap at the statement, a rumble in his chest. You didn’t know which you preferred–both watching the others and having one-on-one attention was elating, but it would have been better if you could see Killer’s expression. You supposed him wanting you this way would have to be enough for now, though you still longed to kiss him. It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

“Killer,” your purr was just on the edge of a pouty whine, “won’t you kiss me? Please?”

Killer hesitated just a moment, prompting the others to speak up.

“She’s been so good, Kill, don’t you think?” Wire said.

“Go on, we won’t look,” said Heat.

“No pressure,” Kid added.

Killer’s mask tilted down, and you knew he was looking right at you. “If that’s what you really want.”

“I’ve wanted that for a long time,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”

“Can’t say I ever thought I’d get to either.” His large hands rubbed up and down your sides. “Didn’t think any of this would ever happen. You were so…”

“Yeah?”

“Awkward.”

The other three barked out laughs, and you pouted. “Okay, that’s fair.”

“But even before that…” Killer said, one hand tracing the scar on your clavicle, “you were quiet… lonely.” He brought both hands to cradle your face.

Though only faced with the mask, you felt like you could see through it to his eyes. “I’m not lonely anymore,” you whispered.

One of his hands shifted to cover your eyes, and you held your breath in anticipation. A moment later, you felt the soft, smooth warmth of his lips pressing to yours. The kiss was hesitant, uncertain, but heavy with wanting; you parted your lips slightly to give him silent permission to go further. When he didn’t, you poked your tongue out to trace his bottom lip, testing, and Killer responded with a soft groan. He pulled you closer with his free hand, deepening the kiss and finally tasting you, his tongue meeting yours. The touch of the wet muscles released some sort of floodgate within him; suddenly he was kissing you fervently, all that wanting let loose onto you. You felt him pull away, only to press a kiss to your jaw, then your neck, working his way down to your scar, which he dragged his tongue across.

You whimpered, reaching up to dig your fingers into his hair and hold on, core aching with need as he kissed down to your breasts.

Suddenly you felt yourself tipping down, yelping as Killer flipped you lengthwise, your chest in his lap and your legs in the air on either side of his neck. He wrapped his arms around your lower half, firmly holding you in place. There was no warning before he pressed his face into your cunt.

“Ah, K-Killer!” you moaned as he lapped and slurped at the sensitive flesh, tonguing between your folds and into your center. He ate you out with all the fervor of a man starved, his goatee rubbing into your clit as he went.

“That’s one way to cure cottonmouth,” Heat said, prompting Kid to lean over to high-five him.

“Don’t be lazy, Y/n,” Wire tutted, “suck him off.”

“Yeah, suck his dick!” Kid encouraged, tongue sticking out.

“Fuck, o-okay,” you breathed, bracing yourself against his muscular thighs with one hand and wrapping your fingers around his cock with the other. You guided his leaking tip into your mouth. It was warm and smooth on your tongue, the salty tang of pre-cum leaving your head spinning. You couldn’t really bob your head from that position, but you did your best to try and please him, though you felt too distracted by the way he plunged his tongue inside you. Killer, on the other hand, didn’t seem thrown off by the added stimulation, merely moaning into your cunt and continuing his assault on your senses.

“Attagirl,” Heat praised. “Take him deeper.”

“Watch us while you do it,” Wire commanded.

Killer had a slight upward curve to his dick, so from that angle, you found that taking him further into your mouth wasn’t so difficult. As long as you braced yourself, you could handle it without choking. You strained forward, letting him deeper into your mouth, eyes flicking up to meet the others’ gazes as you did. The eye contact tightened the building tension within you even tighter, and your moan was muffled when Killer started sucking on your clit.

“Fuck, there you go, princess,” Kid said.

“Mmff-!” you pulled off of Killer’s dick, gasping. “Gonna cum! Killer!”

Just like that, Killer manhandled you to flip you back the right way up, pulling you down onto his cock all the way to the base. He had his mask tilted partway up, beautiful blue eyes cast in shadow barely visible, but fixated on you. He started bouncing you on his cock like you weighed nothing, fingers sinking into your hips, the muscles of his arms and abs flexing. Killer gritting his teeth, too lost in the euphoria of fucking you to worry about his face being visible.

“Killer!” you moaned, holding on for dear life, his handsome face in view as you felt yourself climbing to yet another dizzying orgasm. You trembled as it washed over you, and Killer growled when he felt your walls spasming.

“You cumming on my cock, pretty girl?” he said huskily, holding you down and thrusting up into your g-spot.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” you whimpered–somehow, even being the fifth time, it was just as strong as the first. You slumped against Killer, resting your hands on his chest and catching your breath. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before lowering his mask. 

You were still feeling the waves of it by the time Killer lifted you off of him, a rope of slick connecting your cunt to the tip of his dick.

“Do you need a break?” Killer asked, rubbing your back.

“I don’t know? Maybe?” you said. “I’m a bit tired, but it’s weird. No matter how hard I cum, I still want more.”

“At least drink something,” Wire suggested.

“Like cum?”

That earned you a few giggles from Heat and Kid. Wire picked up one of the water bottles on the table and tossed it at Killer, who caught it one-handed and offered it to you.

After rehydrating, you were passed to Kid. Despite his earlier protests to Killer, he faced you toward himself this time. At first you thought this was to torment you more, as he seemed eager to make you say embarrassing things so he could commit the look on your face to memory.

“Who’s your captain?” Kid demanded as he fucked up into you.

“You are!” you cried.

“And who’s your daddy?”

“Ah! Y-You are!”

Afterward, you realized he just wanted to make out while you rode him. Or maybe it was both things, but you weren’t about to complain. It was hard to tell which of you was more greedy; him for offering up this situation in the first place, or you for accepting it enthusiastically.

Heat opted to take you on the ground for his turn in the rotation, pushing you onto your hands and knees and giving backshots that had your toes curling. Finally, Wire agreed to let you ride him, facing you toward the group and letting you lower yourself onto his cock at your own pace. It was a tight fit, he was the biggest you had ever taken, but you had been fucked so thoroughly and came so many times at that point that you didn’t need any extra preparation. It only took a little bit of working yourself down to take him all.

“Theeere you go,” Wire praised as he bottomed out. You shivered at the sensation of being filled so full. He was pressed firmly against your g-spot without even needing to move or angle himself, all it took was you clenching down on him to feel bliss. He chuckled when he felt you doing so repeatedly, bending down to whisper into your ear. “How’s that big dick feel?”

“So good, Wire,” you sighed, resting your hands over his on your hips. The final blunt in the rotation was passed to Wire, and after taking his hit, he held it to your lips so you could take a hit, too.

Wire passed the blunt, then moved your hands to your lower stomach, making you feel the pronounced bulge that was there. You clenched up again at the feel of it. “You know,” he murmured, “I always had a feeling you could take all of me. That you were made for taking cock.”

“Let me see,” Kid said. 

Wire moved your hands away to show off your belly bulge. “You guys wanna take a closer look?” he asked with a lazy smirk.

Before you knew it, the other three had come over to see the spectacle up close, whistling and cooing. You flushed hotter as they felt it for themselves.

“It’s like you were made for us, babe,” Heat said. He stepped even closer so he was right in front of you, then took his cock and rubbed the tip against your clit, making you gasp. It was smooth and slick against the sensitive nub.

“Fuck, Heat!” you moaned, hands twitching, but Wire held them firmly at your sides, not letting you move.

“What?” Heat said. “After everything, you can’t take this?”

“S-Sensitive! It’s–oh god, fuck…”

“Her hands are free,” Wire pointed out to the other two, holding your hands out. Kid and Killer didn’t hesitate, positioning themselves at your sides. Wire guided your hands around their cocks, helping you jerk them off. The group forced you to stay trapped in that position, Wire rocking his hips all the while. Your eyes rolled back; the build was steep and intense, causing tears to form at the corners of your eyes. The others praised you while you whimpered.

“Did you think about us? When you were alone in the shower?” Wire muttered into your ear.

“Yes! I’m, I’m cumming,” you whined. None of them let up, pushing you over the edge yet again.

“How many times is this?” Kid grinned as you gasped and shuddered.

“That makes six,” Killer said.

“About to be seven,” Wire said, reaching around to rub your clit in expert circles. 

“Wire!” You immediately twitched and writhed, but couldn’t get away. “It’s too soon, it’s too soon!”

“You can take it,” he assured, thrusting up harder. Before he was mostly still, this time his massive cock slid in and out of your cunt at a slow pace. You didn’t think you could cum again so soon, but the overstimulation soon went from maddening to euphoric under his experienced touches. Only another minute of you keening, and then you came again.

“Told you,” Wire said as he finally released your hands. “Seven.”

You fell back against Wire, feeling a bit light-headed. Heat patted your cheek and Killer ruffled your hair.

“Still good to keep going?” Wire asked, grinding his hips against yours to draw out your orgasm. You didn’t respond, too fucked-out, still riding the sensation of the little pulses shooting through your core. “I’m gonna need a response if you want this to continue, sweetheart.”

Your voice was small and shaky. “Don’t stop.”

“You heard her,” Kid grinned.

“What do you think, then, Y/n?” Wire asked. “You ready for all of us?”

“Y-Yeah…” you said. “Just…gimme a minute.”

“And everyone else? You all still in?”

The rest of the group gave eager agreements. Wire helped you dismount from him and let you rest against his broad chest. In the meantime, he started directing the others to set up. There wasn’t much to do, just taking the blanket from the nearby bed and putting it onto the floor for some extra cushioning. Everyone took a drink break, and the last blunt was stubbed out on the now-full ashtray. You went to sit in the center of the blanket, and the others followed. There was a brief discussion on how to make the positions work, you were given another check-in to ensure you were okay with the setup, and anyone who hadn’t fully disrobed did so.

Killer laid down on his back, taking your hand as you crawled over him. You mounted his cock eagerly; despite all the prior attention, you were finally getting to try acting out one of your fantasies, and had perked right back up at the chance.

“Nervous?” Killer asked as Kid took up position behind you.

You shook your head. “You know I trust you guys with my life, right?”

“That’s right,” Kid said, pressing a kiss to the tattoo on your back. Then he placed a hand on your back and pushed you forward to expose your cunt to him. He positioned his cock right up against Killer’s, pushing against it and forward to stretch your cunt until it gave way to his, too. You bit your lip as you were filled by both men simultaneously–the stretch was just like taking Wire.

“Who fills you more?” Wire questioned as he took place at your side, taking your hand and putting it on his cock. “Our captain and first mate, or me?”

“I can’t really tell,” you answered honestly, wrapping your hand around the base of him.

“I guess we’ll just have to give you more practice, then,” he grinned.

Heat stepped over Killer, standing in front of you. “Open wide, babygirl,” he purred, and you did so, tongue sticking out like a landing strip for his cock. He eased himself into your mouth gently, cursing when you started to suck on him. The feeling of his piercings on your tongue was fun, a little sensory treat for you to play with.

Kid started to thrust first, Killer waiting a bit to pick up on Kid’s rhythm before he joined him. He timed himself so you were never left empty; if Kid was pulling back, Killer was thrusting in, and vice versa. The two of them were in perfect sync like they’d done this before, and you wouldn’t have been surprised if they had. Between Kid’s grip on your hips and Killer’s hands on your waist, you were held steady so you didn’t rock too far forward, keeping you feeling the full brunt of their combined attack.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this for a while.” Heat said, placing a hand on the back of your head and starting to thrust shallowly into your mouth. Now that you had been pushed to make eye contact so much during the rotations, there was no more hesitation from you as you looked up through your eyelashes at Heat, who cursed at the sight.

“Oh, fuck, you look good like that,” he muttered, “sucking my cock while getting railed. You feel so fucking good, shit.”

“Isn’t she just perfect?” Wire cooed, guiding your hand to pump his cock. “Servicing us all with those slutty little holes of hers, and doing such a good job of it, too.”

Your moans were muffled by Heat’s cock, but the sound made the others’ grip on you tighten, their thrusts increasing in force. It was almost everything you had wanted, their cocks a drug to you as much as the weed was–you didn’t think you could feel any better. But even then, with three of them inside you pounding you into oblivion, you still wanted more. During the discussion, Wire made you agree to show you could take double penetration before trying triple. You had no choice but to comply, but like you had told Kid earlier, they had no idea just what you could handle. 

You gave the safety signal with your trembling free hand, holding up three fingers. Wire immediately barked at the other three to stop, and when they pulled out of you, you felt emptier than when before you had started.

“You okay? What’s wrong?” Wire asked. The whole group was alert and focused on you now.

“I took two, like you said!” you cried out. “I don’t want to jerk you off, Wire, I want you all at once, like you promised!”

Wire started to laugh while the others relaxed.

“That’s all?” Killer huffed. “I was worried for a second.”

Kid smacked your ass. “That’s my girl! A true Kid pirate.” He pulled you up by the neck so your chest was flush with his back, growling into your ear. “You’re just a greedy little thing, aren’t you? Need us all right this second, hmm?”

“Fuck, yes, just hurry up,” you whined.

Kid held his hand in front of your face. “Spit,” he commanded.

You spat into his palm, and he stroked his cock with that hand. “Alright, boys, let’s rearrange. Wire? What do you think?”

“I’ll take her mouth,” Wire said. “Too big for triple. Otherwise, first choice of ‘loot’ goes to the captain.”

“Her ass is mine.”

“I’m good here,” Killer said.

Heat joined Kid and Killer behind you while Wire took his place in front. He had to sit up on his legs for his cock to be at the right height to line up with your head.

“First Killer and Heat start, then Kid, so I can keep an eye on her. Once I think she’s good, I’ll take her mouth,” Wire directed.

Killer and Heat penetrated your cunt at the same time, hilting themselves before Kid pressed the head of his cock against your ass. The weed had relaxed your muscles enough so that there was little resistance, but you still closed your eyes at the unique feeling of him entering you there. It had been a while since you played with yourself anally, so adding it to the mix of sensations was a thrill. As Kid filled you up, Heat and Killer noticeably tensed in pleasure, the space inside you growing even smaller with the third addition.

“Tight,” Kid muttered, pulling out slightly before pushing in even further, making you moan as you were stuffed to the brim.

“But she did it,” Wire noted, looking proud. He stroked your cheek. “Sorry to have underestimated you.” You responded by opening your mouth, and Wire grinned. “Little slut. Alright, here I come.”

You could only really take the first two inches of Wire in your mouth, but that was enough, you swirled your tongue over his frenum piercing as you sucked him off. The other three took that as a signal to start. Kid went at his own brutal pace, steady but harsh, while the other two were more gentle as they figured out a good rhythm. At first it was disorganized and more uncomfortable than you had expected, until Wire directed Kid to slow down, and suddenly the other three fell into the perfect pace. At that point, you feared you had no rational thought left, every bit of cognition fucked out of your body. A warm, thick haze fell over your mind as they ravaged you, some part of you finally feeling relief from being used so thoroughly by your superiors. It was the satisfaction of your deepest fantasies coming true. Every nerve in your body was attuned to the feeling of their skin on you, against you, inside you. 

Their desire for you was evident in their desperation, in their hands all over your body, in their praises and groans and whines of your name. At the center of their carnal affection, you finally felt whole.

Wire dug his fingers into your hair, grunting that he was close. You were, too, but you couldn’t tell them as you were. The other three figured it out when they felt your walls flutter around their cocks.

“She came.”

“Fuck, she came again.”

“Good girl, good girl.”

You could barely tell who said what, but the following curse of “f-fuck!” came from Wire, and a moment later, a salty, slightly bitter taste coated the back of your tongue. You swallowed it down without a second thought, fully in subspace and never happier.

Heat came next; you couldn’t really feel it, only noticing once he pulled out and you were suddenly, tragically emptier.

“Just you and me, Kill,” Kid said.

Wire pulled out of your mouth, and you collapsed forward onto Killer, fingers scraping against the curly fuzz of his chest hair.

“Easy, just–mm–relax,” Killer grunted, hands traveling up your sides. “Fuck, you don’t know how good you feel.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you panted. “Keep g-going.”

You rested your head on Killer’s chest as they double-teamed you, content to lay there and be used. It came as a surprise when you felt fingers rubbing your clit–Kid had reached around to tease you.

“One last one, princess,” he said.

“Ah, Kid! I don’t think–” you started, but Kid smacked your ass hard and made your words end in a yelp.

“Trust your captain.”

“Y-Yes, sir.” You hung your head down, breaths coming out short, putting all your focus on your lower half.

“Just a bit more,” Killer urged. “Just a bit–fuck, I’m at my limit.”

Killer emptied inside you with a low groan. Kid didn’t let up, rubbing your clit between his thumb and forefinger, pushing you to the edge with that sheer, brutal determination that he approached everything in life with.

“I’m almost there,” Kid promised. “Cum for me, Y/n, cum for your captain.”

“Kid!” you cried, “Kid, Kid, Kid–!”

You both hit your peak at the same time, you with a tired whimper, Kid with a throaty groan. You felt like you had dissolved into a billion little sparks, unable to do anything but pulse and twitch. Then you went limp, all energy seeming to drain out of your body at once.

“Y/n? Are you alright?” Wire asked, and you responded with a weak grunt of confirmation.

Kid and Killer pulled out, the latter sitting up and supporting you against him.

“Just rest,” Killer said. “We’ll take care of everything.”

“Wait. One last thing,” Kid said. He spread your ass cheeks, a smirk etching itself across his face when he saw the cum leaking out of your holes. “Yeah, that’s good. Nicely done, princess.”

You just pressed your face into Killer’s chest and grunted again. The four men chuckled.

“Let’s get her cleaned up,” Kid said, holding his hands out to you. Killer picked you up for one final pass to Kid, who stood you on your feet and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You look like a fucking mess.”

“Mm,” was the only noise you made, though it still managed to sound sarcastic, and Kid laughed. He detached his metal arm, setting it on the ground, then supported you with his remaining arm as you walked on trembling legs to the bathroom.

Kid started the shower, stepping inside it with you to make sure you wouldn’t collapse. You leaned against him, sighing as the hot water soothed your tired muscles.

“I guess I lived up to my hometown’s reputation after all,” you mumbled into his chest.

“No one gives a shit,” Kid said. “You should be happy you got to do this.”

“I am,” you grabbed the soap and started scrubbing your front. “I just think it’s funny. After all that time, you know?”

“Yeah.” He spun you around so the water hit your front. “After all that time. You were so cold before. I always figured you’d leave after your business was done.”

“I thought so, too,” you said, reminiscing. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

Kid helped you lather soap on your back, then spun you around to let it rinse off. You looked up at him. He was standing over you not unlike that day all those years ago, when you had marched up to him and demanded to join his crew. Except instead of a sneer on his face, there was only a soft look.

You felt yourself tear up. Kid’s expression changed to one of alarm. “Woah, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“You sure? You don’t regret this, right?”

“No. It was exactly what I wanted.” You smiled up at him to show you were fine, even as you sniffled.

“Okay. Good,” he said, looking relieved. “It was what I wanted, too.”

You hugged him tight. “I do have a question, though.”

“What?”

“What was the ‘deal’ you guys were talking about earlier?”

Kid snorted. “Ages ago, we talked about which crewmates we hadn’t fucked yet, and all of us agreed that we would have smashed you if we had the chance. So we decided that none of us would make a move until you did.”

“Is that all? Then why did you get mad at Wire?”

“Because we all know that he’s a huge flirt. None of us believed that you made the first move.”

You thought back to when you kissed him. “We were both drunk, but–yeah, he kissed me first. Despite what he says.”

You and Kid chuckled. After getting cleaned up, you wrapped yourself in a towel and went back out. The others had all redressed by then. You were about to flop into your chair until Wire held his arms out to you. You drifted over and let him pull you into his embrace, resting against him while he massaged your thighs.

“If you want to talk about any of it, just say so,” he said. “Questions, comments, concerns.”

“I just want to eat something that’s not cock,” you said.

The others laughed, except for Heat, who shouted, “Fuck!”

“What?”

“I wasn’t hungry until you said something, damn it.”

You and the other three laughed again, this time at Heat’s expense.

“I could eat all of Whole Cake Island,” you said.

Heat started rummaging around the cabinets in the dresser. “There’s gotta be a list of nearby places to eat–huh?” There was a pause, and then Heat turned around. “Why are there a bunch of condoms in here?”

“Amenities, obviously. Remember what island you’re on,” you said. 

Wire’s hands froze where they were on your hips. “Y/n?” he said, the tone making you nervous.

“Now, listen, Wire–” you started.

“Don’t ‘listen’ me,” he said thinly. “You knew there were condoms and didn’t tell me?”

“Well, you know, I’m still good on birth control, and, uh,”

“It still matters–” Wire realized something, then grabbed your shoulders. “Did you fucking lie so you’d get creampied, you fucking slut?”

The other three howled, and you shrank in his lap, even as you squeaked out, “I’m not sorry.”

“I guess you’ll have to punish her, Wire,” Kid grinned.

“Just let us watch when you do,” Killer added.

“What did you have in mind?” Heat asked.

“Oh, I’ll come up with something.” Wire said. He tickled your sides, making you flail in his lap until you begged for mercy.

“That settles it, then,” Kid said. “Y/n? Before we leave this island, make sure you go get a big bundle of Red Sky for us to take with us.”

“Aye aye, captain,” you said, heart already leaping at what the future would hold.

[gojo-mochi]

DID YOU SAY CHOSO BEC HE IS SUCH A DARLINGGG… he’d be such a soft dom.. he’d leave a kiss down your shoulders, softly sucking on your collarbone as he thrust… and he is so vocal when he’s inside youu…. and he has the prettiest orgasmic face… idk softy what this is

CHOSO IS SO SOFT FOR YOU THE BIGGEST PERV THO TOO A SOFT PERV

Like the prettiest service Dom out there.

Nsfw Drabble below! MDNI!!

not edited dsafd i wrote this on my noteapp

….

“You want this right, darling?” Choso’s hand softly caress your cheek as his dark half-lidded eyes look down at you. You hum into his touch, nuzzling his hand and kissing his wrist. Choso pulls you into his chest, hiding his blush-ridden face in your hair as his hands roam around your shoulders and the small of your back. 

You giggled in his hold, your own hand going up to start undressing your soft boyfriend, planting kisses on his collarbone and going downwards. Choso lets out quiet whines as your hands grabs his pecs, gently massaging his body, treating it like it was something to cherish. Which to you, it was, however Choso needs to be reminded from time to time that he was loved as well. 

You got his shirt off when Choso leans back to look at you once more, his hands now back to cupping your face, so he can hold you still while he peppers you with kisses. His smooth lips gliding over your eyes, nose, then finally slotting against your lips. His tongue peeking out to swipe at your bottom lip with a soft groan from Choso. “Please, darling..” He begged quietly for your permission to push on further. He always does this, no matter how many times you guys kissed or had sex before, he would always ask if it still ok for you to give yourself to him. Like he expected for one day for you to push him away and leave forever. 

Like everytime before, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and murmured back your own; “Please…” That was enough for Choso to devour your mouth. His tongue invading your mouth with a fervor. Hands now going to cup at your chest, squeezing them between his long fingers. You moan at the contact, allowing Choso to push his tongue even further in. “You taste so sweet, my love, so good… all for me..” He muttered sweet sugary praises in harsh contrast to his hungry touch and desperate kisses. 

Swallowing up your pleading mewls with his skillful tongue and somewhere in the haze you lost both your shirt and your shorts. You didn’t even noticed when Choso had pulled them off of you, your mind just taken over by lust and want at this point and you could see in Choso’s dark eyes that he was faring no better than you were. “Beautiful…, so fucking pretty, my dear…” His fingers goes to hook your bra, peeling off the straps and instantly latching on to your harden buds once they were set free.

You whined at the contact, his hot mouth and tongue flicking and slurping over one nipple while his fingers pinched the other. The pad of thumb swiping over the nub in sync with his tongue. “A-ah! Choso..ngh-mm!” You threw your head back, mewling at the intense pleasure already building up at your core, hands holding on to Choso’s shoulder to steady yourself. 

“Keep saying my name like that, my love, more.. more..” Choso switched other to attack your other nipple with his mouth, making sure that both side get equal treatment but you were past caring about that, wanting something more than just his mouth on you. Tugging at his dark lock you start to beg him for something more. 

“Choso-hon-honey! Please I need-mmph!” Choso cuts you off with another heated kiss. His hand going down to the place you needed it the most. Rubbing small circles on your clit over your panties. “You never need to beg with me, you know that, love” Choso huffs out, his lips just ghosting above yours, as you keep on whining from his touches. “I’ll give you everything you need, dear..” Smooch… “Just tell me…” 

You gulp back another whine to speak out “I need you, Choso…” He smiles at this, pressing his lips against yours once again but more subdued this time. Sweeter but somehow it heats you up even more than the others. His fingers dips in your panties, collecting all the slick that pooled in between your folds. “You needed me that badly huh?” Choso lightly teased, causing you to start closing your thighs together in embarrassment. 

Choso holds them apart with a small chuckle, “It’s okay dear… I need you just as much…maybe even more..” His tone turned more serious near the end as he push in one finger. Leaning down to pepper kisses on your neck, sometimes sucking just hard enough to leave small marks. You gasp and moan, hips bucking up to feel more of Choso’s finger inside you, it wasn’t enough to satisfy you.

Choso noticed this and started adding more fingers in, prepping you diligently. While you love this caring and pleasing of him most of the time, sometime you wished he would just take you down and bred you like an animal. Choso hummed, pleased at the marks he left on your neck so far, finally deciding that you were wet and prepped enough to pull down your panties and take off his own pants as well. 

His pretty cock sprung up, freed from his boxer, the tip was already covered in precum. He blush as your intense stare, “So you did need me that badly too, hmm?” You teased him back. Only to find you face flushed when he answered back with a honest and sincere tone; “I always need you…I love you so much, y/n..” Afraid that your voice would come out shot, you just pull him in for a kiss, Choso took this opportunity to lay you down on the bed, positioning himself between your thighs so he could enter your soaking pussy with his tip.

He whimpered at how tight you were, practically milking him already as soon as he entered you. “Fuck…my love, you’re so good for me..” He slowly paced him way deeper in, sighing when his whole length settles inside of you. “S-so good, dear, oh my fuck… god this pussy needs me so badly, sigh, I need you so badly, my love…” He sputtered out, his mouth agape with pleasure and eyes clouded over with lust, “Please tell me to move, tell me that you want me to fuck you.. please.. my love..please” 

He ends his pleads with a guttural moan that sends your pussy into a flutter. “Fuck me, Choso, go-god just move!” You voice get embarrassingly high pitched near the end but you were too far gone to care. Choso thrusts his hip back and snap it forward, whining about how you were going to make him cum too quickly, to calm himself he nestles his face on the crook of your neck, open mouthed kissing on your bare skin.

You clawed on to his shoulders, body shaking from the force in his thrusts, hard but slow so you felt all of him inside of you. The outline of his veins on his cock slowly dragging itself in and out of your walls. You were barely holding on to, your brain going into a hazy fog as you listen to the depraved wet sounds of skin slapping and the needy moans of Choso himself near your ear. 

“So tight, so good for me, my love, fu-fuck, nghh-ha-hahhh-ahh..I could stay li-like this forever, my cock buried in-inside you…”

“You let me do that ri-right, love? Being together forever li-like this-ngh-ahh-hahh…I love you so-so much..my precious one..” 

He starts to babble on more and more about how good he felt and how much he loved you, you were both getting close as your own moans were turning into desperate whimpers. Drool pooling out of the corner of your mouth as Choso increase his pace. “Le-let me cum inside, love? Please?” He starts to suck on your neck and lick his way to your collarbone, tracing the outline of it, in the middle of his pleas. 

You could only answer with a hasty nod, fingernails digging moon crescent onto his shoulders. Choso goes up to press his forehead against yours, you look at him, his hair falling down stuck to his face, pupils blown out with lust, and his lips glossed and shiny with spit. ‘Fuck he looked so good like this’ Your brain managed to get that single thought out before your whole body was wrecked with pleasure when you felt Choso’s thumb rubbing intensely at your clit. 

“Ch-Choso!” You choked out a moan, hips bucking up and body thrashing around only stopped by Choso’s large frame laying on top of you. His own orgasm following close by with his own much needier moan spilling from his glistening lips.His hips sputters into your as he cums all of his load inside, you grab his face to pull him into a messy kiss, teeth clashing and sucking on his tongue. 

Now you were swallowing up all his cute whimper and moans. You both pull away with a heavy string of spit in the middle. Panting and slowly coming down from your pleasure highs, Choso flops his entire body weight on to you, almost crushing you in the process, but he always know how to angle himself to stop that from happening. 

“Let me stay inside you? It’s too warm.. I don’t wanna leave just yet…”

[saenora]

Imagine meeting your neighbor Yuuta in the apartment next yours. You were coming back home from another shitty date night. Cursing about how the guy just wanted to fuck you and didn’t even pay for the food. You were tired and tipsy and mostly angry, as your keys seem to be working against you, you tried twisting and turning the key multiple times in the keyhole to get inside your apartment. But it just wasn’t working, you let out a scream and bang your head against the door. Tears pricking at your eyes as you choked out sobs. You then hear the door turning and around the corner peeked a timid looking young man? Teen? He looked old enough not to be called a kid but his babyface made him seem really young. You blink at him thru unshed tears and jumped away from the door. “O-oh shit! This was your apartment! I am so fucking sorry, I thought this was my apartment, you see I’m not a crazy person, I swear! I just-I-fuck-I” You start babbling about your terrible date night to your confused and possibly scared neighbor you just met.

You couldn’t stop yourself though, like the tears, your words just kept on spilling out. Until your were a crying mess, your neighbor didn’t end up calling the cops on you though, he held you in his arms and soothes your cries until you were just whimpering. He listen to your words and said sweets words to you that made your heart melt and heat pool in your core. He invited you inside his apartment after you calmed down, saying “I hate to leave a pretty girl like you stained with tears all alone tonight…” He was so sweet and nice, and alluring.. your mind was a daze as you knew you shouldn’t trust a stranger but the way he held your hand and wiped away your tears… You joined him inside.

“Ah-Ah-mmm-hahh!” Now here you were, legs locked into a mating press by the boy that was just sweet talking you earlier. You were crying once again, but not from sadness this time, you were crying from the overstimulation, Yuuta was giving you on your spent pussy. “Yuuta! Yuu-ahhh, Yuuta, Yuuta!” You chanted his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say even though you barely learned it tonight. His hips slammed in yours with such force that the bed shake beneath you everytime, his thumb was rubbing circles on your puffy clit, the cum and juices leftover from the orgasms before made it quite easy for him to rub at you. “It’s your fault, you know.. hahh.. fuck.. banging on my door like that.. wearing this slutty dress..mmf.. like you were begging me to just fuck you then and there..”

You whined as you start to feel another orgasm building, however this time, Yuuta pulled out his thick cock and slapped it against your twitching clit. His arms still pressing your legs against your chest. "You want to come again...?"

"Hmm... tell me that won't go see those other men anymore and that this pussy.." He slaps his wrist this time against your pussy, causing you to try to buck your hips up, to no avail. "Belongs to me and only me... and then I'll give you what you been begging for.."

RAHHH YUUTA IM TIRED STOP INVADING MY BRAIN PLS

SOFTIEEEE I AHVE BEEN REREADING THIS OVWR AND OVER AGAINSHE TRYING TO FIND TEH RITE WORDS TO TYPE IN THE RESPONSE 😭😭😭 BUT I CANTSHDDJ FRFRFRFR… THIS YUUTA ISSS SUCHA. DREAM… NEED HIM TO RUTT AGAINST ME 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 HE IS SUCHA. NEEED AND I CAN BE SO NEEDY FOR H— BYE

#: @mrskenmakozume @kenruu @daikiiss

[ifangirlalot]

Not to be weird, but Michael Myers canonically looks like this unmasked in Halloween 1978:

Like they handpicked him to play Michael unmasked because they wanted him to look "boyish"

[sleepingdeath-light]

red and the wolf ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 974

content ; sexually explicit content, dirty talk, slight praise kink, penetrative sex

fandom ; mystic messenger

pairing ; hyun ryu / zen x gender neutral reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

When your boyfriend had called himself 'a wolf' in the bedroom you'd just brushed it off as a joke about him having a high libido (which your perpetually aching thighs and few dozen pairs of ruined underwear could attest to). But now, with him looming over you in with those sparkling, perfectly white teeth, and glimmering red eyes, and that deep voice that sounded like something between a growl and a whisper, you couldn't help but think he was being far more literal than you'd initially given him credit for.

Not that you were complaining, of course, it was nice to be manhandled every once in a while — even if all of the filth falling from those beautiful lips of his was starting to drive you mad.

Zen urged you to be loud, to make as much noise as you want and more — leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear and whispering in that heavy evening voice of his to ask if you can be 'louder' for him. Practically begging you to keep making all of those 'pretty noises' you know he loves. And every whimper and moan and gasp earned you a cuss, or a grunt, or a perfectly angled thrust of his cock straight into that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. A reward for your obedience punctuated by wet, messy kisses to your lips that were more tongue and teeth than anything else (oh how swollen your lips would be tomorrow, marred with the indents of his teeth and your own, bitten so deeply that you could already taste your own coppery blood on your tongue despite how young the night still was).

He downright worshipped your body between thrusts: groping at every ridge, and swell, and dip, and scar — complimenting each part of you with an earnestness that you knew better than to dispute. Calling you 'hot', 'sexy', and 'all mine' as he sucked, bit, and marked his way along your throat and jaw. Tenderly lapping at your pulse point and chuckling when he felt it jump after a particularly playful slap to your backside. He playfully calls you his 'little pet'; the 'red' to his 'wolf' — and he mouths wet promises against your throat of not stopping until the mattress is hanging off of the bed and you're both too tired to go on (and with his stamina, well… you'll surely have a long night ahead of you).

He then effortlessly lifted your trembling thigh with one hand to wrap it around his waist, feeling the muscles of his abdomen pressing into your skin as he pressed his muscular chest down against yours. And in that same husky voice, Zen praised you for taking him 'so well' tonight, words that barely reach you as you’re far too close to climax to notice much beyond how good it feels to have him touching you and the waves of pleasant heat washing over your body as you start to mount your peak.

Clearly he’s not too far behind as you can just about see him gritting his teeth through your hazy vision as he tried his best to last out for you. Pace quickening and deepening as he eagerly chased your high and chased your lips with his own with the same amount of ferocity you’d come to expect from him, calling you 'perfect', and 'made for me', and telling you how you feel 'so fucking good, babe,'. Each broken phrase an island of coherence amongst the endless stream of growls, and moans, and grunts that slip from his lips as he pounds his hips into yours and fills your hole with his dick in that way you love (and how could you not?).

Long strands of white hair fall over his shoulders and out of his up-do, tickling your nose and sticking to the sweat covering your body and face as you started to rapidly approach your climax. But by now you're too distracted by the way it felt to be stretched out on that pretty cock of his, and the distant sensation of him slipping one of those large, soft hands into yours and holding it tightly — grounding you in the same way that he was kept grounded by the sharp stinging pain of your fingernails digging into the toned, pale expanse of his shoulders and back — to care about anything like that. Even the fuzzy sound of his voice praising you, and cussing, and grunting and moaning against your lips (and jaw and cheeks and throat, always moving and marking and loving you) was too distant to your muddy mind for you to truly notice or understand beyond your short responses in the shape of moans and whimpers.

Then something snaps and the world around you comes crashing down, washed away with what remained of your coherent thoughts by the torrent of burning pleasure that wracked through your body. Kept in that blissful, whited-out place by his soft lips, and endless flirting, and expert thrusting as you lost yourself in the pounding of your heart, and the aching of your lungs, and the intense sensations that left your whole body limp and trembling, and your entrance pulsing and fluttering around your Zen. No longer able to do anything but moan, and gasp, and whimper until your throat was too hoarse to do even that.

And Zen (your Zen, your wolf) followed soon after with a loud cry (howl, even) of your name as he filled you completely with his seed. Pressing his sweat slicked forehead against yours as you both try and catch your breath. Completely messy and blissed out and in love; red and their wolf, basking in the musky afterglow before going straight back into the fray the moment you had both come back down to earth.

[kangjaehee]

RFA + sex headcanons

because i am in a Mood. minors do not interact

content under the cut

YOOSUNG.

SUBBY.

like... very. He likes it when u take control.

He likes it when you’re mean to him, when you demand, when you give him no choice but to do as you say if he wants to be a good boy for you.

Humiliation is his shit kinda... he says he doesn’t like it when you highlight how sensitive he is but you, who sees how he trembles at every word you say, you know different.

And on that regard... he’s sensitive. Like, the slightest touch and the right words can crumble him into a whimpering mess within seconds. You’re actually quite shocked. But you absolutely love it.

And he’s loud, too. Doesn’t at all hold back his cries, which sound oh so beautiful to you.

Very into pet play. Likes when you take care of him, likes the element of humiliation that comes with being treated like an animal.

Make him do the gross embarrassing things. Make him eat from a bowl and bark. It gets him off.

Surprisingly, he’s not that much into physical pain or impact, just the control element of it all. He likes it as part of something else, but not in and of itself.

Actually he gets off more in the concept of punishment than the act itself... it urges him on. You think it’s cute. It makes him harder to hear your little dismissive laugh after he whines.

He finishes quite fast but my god does he have stamina. He can go for rounds and rounds that leave you asking for a break.

it turns out all those lolol all nighters he pulled did actually mean something....

Also: the idea of you taking care of him while he’s in the middle of a game??? and not letting him cum until he wins????? GOD it makes him melt.

Very kissy during aftercare. Also very talkative.

You actually have no idea how a person can have this much energy after cumming so many times but hey this is Kim Yoosung we’re talking about.

He doesn’t sext but he does call you to tell you how needy he is. Over the line, you hear him stroke himself to your voice. It makes you lose your mind.

ZEN.

this man has 1 goal and 1 goal only: making you feel good

service top pleasure dom whatever you wanna call it. He just wants you to feel loved and sexy and give you the orgasm of your life.

He likes feeling you. Groping your thigh, manhandling you, kissing you red and raw.

(of course, all while he praises you and tells you how unbelievably gorgeous you are...)

And you absolutely love it. It makes you feel wanted, powerful.

Active sex drive. Y’all do it every other day or so. Not always for long. But it’s an integral part of your relationship. 

He’d do it anywhere. In the kitchen, living room, bathroom, car... He doesn’t need to be comfortable, he just needs his hands and your body to touch.

But don’t misinterpret him, he loves planned affairs too. Especially when you go out of your way to set the mood with lighting and scents and stuff.

LOVES it when you dress up for him. Put on some cute lingerie and sit there, watching as he turns beet red and his breath deepens.

And send him pics. be the biggest tease you can be. Anything relating to you drives him crazy. In his eyes, you’re the sexiest being on the planet, no matter what anyone has told you.

Although keep in mind that he Will warn u about the power u have over him and The Beast potentially coming out at an unwanted moment...

You always tell him to be patient and wait, as if that’s not exactly what you’re after. The Beast always comes out when he gets home though, with him absolutely devouring you in kisses.

Stamina for days... like come on let’s be real he’s a musical theatre performer. He’s Never done.

Not very kinky but has a thing for breeding? creampieing? He wants to claim you, to have something of his inside you.

...And you don’t hate the idea but Babe don’t you think we’re... too young for kids?

Oh my God sorry I didn’t mean it like that... But, hey, don’t you think I’d make a good dad ;)?

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Also he’s not so opposed to the idea of bondage... to have unrestricted access to your body like that (or you to his...)

Surpisingly likes toys. If they make the experience better for you... (and he wants to try them too, though he’s not gonna admit it).

He’s not very keen on being on the receiving end. Doesn’t exactly like not being the one in charge, but he relents every once in a while.

He particularly loves blowjobs. He thinks you look so stupidly sexy while doing them, and the way he flusters and bites his lip... it’s so cute

(One day you’re gonna get him on his knees for you, one day.)

JAEHEE.

Although the tension between you two and the desire you harbored for each other was undeniable, it took you quite a while to get intimate.

When you crossed that threshold, though... Well, let’s just say there was no return.

Lots of kissing. Before, during, and after. She kisses you intensely, with purpose, like she wants to eat you whole. It’s a bit overwhelming. Makes you wonder for how long she’s been saving this.

Quick, does not hesitate. Teases very little, goes straight to it, and has you shaking and remembering nothing but her name in a matter of miniutes.

Stupidly skilled with her hands. They’re good for so many more things other than kneading dough...

Absolutely loves to hear your moans and other sounds. It urges her on. Please be as loud as you possibly can.

The sight of her large honey eyes looking up at you while she’s eating you out has to be one of your favorites.

But while she absolutely adores being the one to take care of you, she actually pefers it the other way around...

And you do too. Because, my god this woman is the cutest being in the universe when she’s flustered. And it’s extremely easy to fluster her.

All it takes is a smile, a kiss, a remark on how wet she is for you... and boom. You’ve reduced her to a mess of whimpers. She’s sensitive and easy to crack.

And it’s funny because all the while you’ll see her trying desperately to hold onto the propriety that she’s so known for. But soon enough it’s gone and she’s cursing and pleading.

You love to tease her because of this. She groans like she hates it but actually doesn’t, actually wants you to do it, draw this out as long as you can. It makes her climax much more satisfying.

She loves when u play with her boobs. Bite them, mark them, grab them, pinch them, maybe slap them if the occasion requires it...

Two words: Praise. Kink.

...Yeah she very obviously has it.

Tell her how well she’s doing no matter what it is that she’s doing. How good she is at taking your fingers down her pretty wet cunt. How well she’s sucking on your clit. It makes her feel like she’s in heaven.

And of course, tell her how she’s a good girl, how she’s your good girl. And watch her fucking dissolve.

(...yeah she’s quite a sub).

She’s into some other stuff... classics like bondage and the occasional spank, more adventurous stuff like wax play.

She likes sexual experimentation. She’d try most things once, just to have the experience, as long as they’re safe, sane, and consensual.

She has quite a bit of stamina and can last long, although she doesn’t exactly like cumming many times in a row or overstimulation in general. Instead, she prefers being edged until she can barely hold it in.

She also cries. It shocked you the first time, but... she cries when cumming.

And after you’re done, she’s always extremely tender and soft, wanting to cling to you for long. You always reassure her, tell her how good she did. Often you like to shower after, or eat something together. Cuddles after sex are mandatory but always remember to get up and do your necessities.

You guys don’t do it often, and don’t like to do it quick. The Jaehee motto is “If you’re going to do anything, do it how it’s supposed to be done” and that applies to sex. But that just makes the encounters you do have all the more special.

JUMIN

for someone whose only experience is having explored his best firend’s body once out of “curiosity” he’s surprisingly very good.

(JUMINV REAL i will die on this hill. i am cheritz actually.)

instinct-driven. doesn’t hesitate. takes you in whole.

composure and propriety thrown out the window, he will make you his. he’s gonna make sure that you forget your own name and only remember his, that you forget everything else but the feeling of his hands on your body and how he pounds inside you.

It’s not hard to get him going. Like at all. Just kiss him deep the way he likes it, grind agaist him, and bam.

He likes to tease verbally, you like grinding against my thigh, love? but not a lot. Eventually his desire to just have you wins him over.

It’s possessive, yes, but it’s his way of showing you just how much he wants you and no one else. You think of it as almost a privilege to be loved so deeply by someone.

Loves marking you, biting into you and then seeing the pretty purple bruises that from, that mark you as irrevocably his. Kisses you a lot during and after. A lot of You’re mines coming out of his mouth.

Also, he loves hearing your moans. And you love hearing his.

It’s actually very funny to tease him, because it’s very easy and he tries to make it subtle. Just push out your shoulder, watch as his face gets red and he swallows, struggling to keep his poise.

And then God save you, because he will not hold back...

You guys do it often. It’s a way for him to destress, so it’s almost a daily affair. A little quickie before bed and after waking up never hurt anyone...

Doesn’t like doing it in public, likes it when it’s just the two of you, though he for sure likes teasing you in public... You’ve given him a handjob in the limo in more than one occasion.

He’s averagely kinky. Likes bondage. Likes calling you his kitten. Likes slapping your ass when you’re both really into it. Not much beyond that. 

The dominant position is comfortable to him, he can let his desires run wild and free, and you like how he exerts his power, how he’s so confident. It almost lights you up.

Though he also has a strange, almost hidden desire for the other side of the coin... he likes being the one with the power taken away, too.

It always oddly attracted him, but he never paid attention to those desires, as they made no sense. But then you suddenly decided to be more dominant one time, and oh boy something awoke in him.

It’s not very easy for him to submit and let go. But it’s extremely liberating once he does so. For a man who has to be thinking and making decisions and bearing more responsibility on his shoulders than any person could imagine, being in a position where he doesn’t have to make any of the decisions is almost cathartic.

He likes being your kitten. Likes the sight of you above him, holding him by a leash and smiling, just as much as he loves the sight of you under him.

Likes impact quite a bit, actually. More on him than on you. It’s a little humiliating to imagine the heir of one of Korea’s biggest conglomerates being spanked raw. But that’s inexplicably a turn-on.

Likes latex a lot. The sight of you on it is pure art.

Also into shibari. Likes the intricacy of it, the protocol, the fact that it’s an art form.

Lot’s of stamina, doesn’t cum easily. Will always make sure you’re the one to finish first or with him. Prefers to cuddle after, sometimes for hours, tightly and in silence or with just a few words exchanged. It’s the act of bodies becoming one, of feeling being not said but expressed in the way his skin contacts with yours.

SEVEN.

Okay so wbk this man is a menace. This applies to sex too.

Most of the time, it’s sloppy and imporvised. Undeliberate, hands everywhere, kisses all over the face. He doesn’t think, and you don’t either. It’s almost funny.

A tease, just because he absolutely loves to see you riled up and begging for it. But, do it a bit aggressively. He’s a bit of a brat. He pushes, and wants you to push back and push harder.

He doesn’t need things at all to be fancy, he can have fun with very little. He’s creative.

But you know what his absolute shit is?? Roleplay.

He does it almost naturally. Has fun with it. Likes the performance element, the not being himself, the play. It’s a way for him to take advantage of all the costumes he’s kept form his agency days.

You’ve found him on more than one occasion just weasring a maid dress and pretending to clean... The indirect was caught and enacted upon.

He’s kind of a jack of all trades. He can top, he can bottom, he can take the strap and rail you until walking is an arduous task.

freak in the streets and the sheets. Truly willing to try anything once.

Pain enjoyer. Likes spanking you, and likes you doing it to him too.

Also likes overstimulation. Edge him, then let him cum, and do not let him stop... just let him go off like that.

Lots and lots of stamina. And also just fucking dies after. Does everything and then five minutes after he’s absolutely fucking spent. To you, it’s shocking. To go from being so loud to being so still...

Likes to kiss during foreplay, but not much during or after. Prefers to tease with words or just let the actions speak for themselves.

One thing about Choi Saeyoung: he’s a romantic partner and extremely entertaining lover. You can trust that stuff will never get repetitive on him. Always switching it up... in all ways possible.

[mera-k1]

I love your last request about the positions AAAA TKM!! Kdns can I request something similar for kanata, anne and maybe yuto?) >^< pls

i added a bunch of other characters as well so enjoy~!

Fav Positions Pt 2

Various Paralive x gn!reader

-smut, yuto w/ no hancho!!

anne prefers to be on top but doesn't really mind what position. they love to tease you though so as long as they can tease you, any position is okay with them. they're always down to try out new positions as well!

kanata is simple. he likes missionary because it feels the most intimate to him. he loves being close to you and he feels safe and comfortable when you're that close to him. he won't let go and has to slide his hand into yours to hold it while he fucks you.

i don't think nayuta has a preference, it's whatever you enjoy! you like him being on top? sure, he doesn't mind missionary or any other position you might have in mind. you prefer to be on top? okay! he doesn't mind cowgirl!

zen prefers the lotus position. i honestly have no reasoning for this other than gut feeling. he just seems like he'd love having you so close to him, it feels intimate. he can hold your waist and kiss your face if he wants to at any point. zen enjoys intimacy when it comes to sex!

satsuki has no preference since he's very inexperienced. he enjoys whatever you enjoy usually so if you asked him his favorite, he's not really sure. he does get hella embarrassed just seeing you naked but he finds himself wanting to look at you even if he has to look away to hide his flustered face.

a very sweet guy, yuto likes missionary just for the fact that it's easy and versatile. he can hold your hand, kiss you, touch your body, and a whole lot of other things. he likes making you the center of attention when it comes to sex so this is the perfect position for him.

ryoga is a rough and brute-like guy. he doesn't really understand the concept of being gentle with his partner sometimes and that's part of the reason i think his favorite would be the mating press. he just really enjoys being able to bend you in half against the mattress but he tries really hard to listen to your pleas to be gentler even if he's not sure how to be yet.

[yandereaffections]

Mystic Messenger Masterlist

Saeyoung Choi (707)

Headcannons

Hunted Down

Angry 707

Yoosung Kim

Headcannons

Vampire S/o

Jumin Han

Headcannons

Vampire Jumin turing over his S/o

Gore

“Just tell me their name and ill make this all better”

Agoraphobic S/o

V

Naga V

Zen

Headcannons

Saeyoung

NS FW alphabet

NS FW Headcannons

Jumin

NS FW headcannons

[theunspeakablehorror]

Zenyatta x Trans Reader (ftm)

2600 words I wrote this as a gift for @techromancer1179. We love his hands

Mainly fluff and smut a little comfort 🔞

Zenyatta comed through the various emotional states radiating from people in the room only to see that your mental state needed his intervention.

Around the mountain of blankets you had turned into zenyatta leaned in to place a tea set where your head would have been. You grunt in response and stick an arm out of your cocoon to pull in your treasures.

“Sit up Dear. The tea will help.” Zenyatta said, gently bringing your shoulders off the table and readjusting your blankets to ensure maximum heat retention.

You gave him a groggy ‘thank you’ as he returned to cooking on the stove whilst you held the teacup in hand taking careful sips of the hot drink.

While he cannot taste the food, Zen has a sizable repertoire of dishes he can prepare. With your condition in mind, he opts for a simple slice of toast with an egg and two bacon slices.

Placing it down in front of you, you begin to ravage the sandwich like you hadn't eaten in the last 8 hours or the 10 before that. How long had you been working?

You had been in overtime hell as WP:Gibraltar struggled to resume full functionality with less than 100 agents, most of whom were in the field or too exhausted from their last deployment to help.

Zen’s orb of harmony spun to your shoulder as he turned to place another toasted sandwich on the counter. The bulk of the aching and discomfort seemed to wash off like you were in a steam bath. Still not in top shape but at least you looked less like a blanket zombie and more alive.

You stood up briefly to tap your forehead to his as a gesture of a kiss and felt the small current he sent through it and you gave a pleased hum in response.

Genji soon arrived to eat the other plate of prepared food although less ravenously than you had. You could hear them discuss something between them and watch the transfer of a black plastic bag from genji to zenyatta.

You were curious as to the bags contents, but knowing them, it is probably incense sticks or something to improve their meditation space.

Speaking of meditation space, zenyatta offered a hand to guide you along the pathways. The day’s spot was set among hyacinths and lavender buds.

You begin your exercises. Quieting the outside world, relaxing your limbs, and positioning yourself.

Zenyatta sat in the middle with you and Genji on either side of him facing him with a gap between you.

Meditation did well in calming the mind but your body still aches from the excess labor. You were about to go take the hottest steam bath of your life when Zenyatta stopped you with a quick gesture to move towards him.

“I see you are still under physical stress” he begins “I believe I can help with your ailment,” cocking his head slightly while holding that black bag Genji brought him.

You had been dating for a while and yet Zenyatta never seems to initiate sexual encounters. But if the black bag and his subsequent gesture to his room was anything like you thought it might be, Zenyatta has a plan in store for the night's activities.

“That would be greatly appreciated” you groaned as the two of you walked the length of the hall to his room. The room was dimly lit with candles and a table. correction. a massage table was in the center surrounded by incense and oils, now added to with the contents of the black bag.

“You deserve to take a break” he soothed, sliding behind you and reaching his arms around your neck. You sighed at the weight but his metal is always much warmer than you remember.

But, a body-heater was not in Zenyatta's plan. He gently guided you to the edge of the table and pulled his faceplate up and to the side of your face, whispering “I can go as far as you want and get into the muscles you need. Anywhere. Just ask.”

You stared with a dusting of blush at the omnic in front of you who just gave you a free ticket for anything between a normal massage and sensual touching to full on passionate sex.

You were broken out of your trance when Zen stepped into the bathroom and asked you to get undressed to your comfort level. You were debating covering your chest but you had already talked to him in great detail about your gender and held great trust in him. Underwear stays on. You were not sure that Zenyatta knew you did not have a penis. Maybe he had a preference for either. Maybe he wouldn't like you with a vagina. Negative thoughts started to cloud your head and as if on cue Zenyatta gently knocked on the door, “are you alright? I can perform a massage with clothes if you would prefer”

“NO! no. I’m ok. Just--lost in thought for a moment. I’m ready” you replied as though you weren't just on the verge of tears. When you stepped out, Zenyatta had pulled the sheet back and gestured for you to lay face down underneath, though he had turned his head to look away. For now it seemed he would go the traditional massage route, though his face rarely gave away his expressions.

The massage was exactly what you needed as Zenyatta expertly worked through your back that had been bent over various computers and storage boxes for weeks along with your feet which you had been forced to stand on for long stretches that your inserts were not helping with.

You were so lost in the feeling of relaxation that it was now time to flip over. Zenyatta helped with the sheet and helped you shuffle down onto the bed.

“It is not standard to massage the dorsal abdomen. Would you like me to?” He asked, hanging his head upside down over yours. His ministrations on your back had certainly welcomed the idea of a repeat exercise, but Zenyatta had never actually seen your top scars before. What if he didn't like them or he thought less of you.

You tip your head back more to get a better eye to eye look and manage to crack out “Are you sure you don't mind?

He stared at you for a time in silence before you piped up to clarify “My scars from top surgery and I never got bottom surgery so if you think it's gross or weird or something we…we can just leave it here.” You started to cry, digging up all your negative emotions about your body and how you could never be loved. Especially by someone like Zenyatta. Who were you to even touch him?

You startle slightly as his thumbs ghost over your scars in a long, gentle stroke outwards. The metal has warmed up significantly since he began, but you still groaned at the slight touch.

“Dearest,” he began, breaking the silence, “you are beautiful.” His hands trailed upwards to cup your face. “You are incredible and your scars are proof of your strength. Of your resolve.” Tears began to well up and he moved to wipe them away. “I treasure you. Regardless of your physical appearance.”

One hand remained on your face, catching stray tears while the other moved to stroke languidly through your hair. After some time you pulled yourself up to sit, with your legs dangling off the side, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly to your chest.

He hummed appreciatively and reciprocated the hug, rubbing large circles into your back. His hands trailed down your arms to hold your own as he pulled away. “We do not decide the bodies we are born in. I admire your courage to change and to grow. Who you chose to be is your decision. Trust in me to love all of who you are.”

You reach behind his head and pull him in to kiss the line of his faceplate as a worldless declaration. “Will you allow me to show you my affections?” Ha asked, subtly stroking his thumb over your open palm and leaning to press his forehead to yours.

“I trust you,” you respond, words trembling. “Thank you Dearest,” he said, bringing his hands to your sides. He drew shapes over your abdomen with his fingers, marveling at how the skin dipped and moved against his actions.

His fingers moved lower, catching on your pelvis and following the curve toward your inner thighs. He danced around your core, leaving wispy touches nearby but never close enough. Heat began to rise as Zenyatta continued his teasing excapade, trying to figure out where you liked to be touched and kneely listening to how you would respond with little sighs or catch your breath when he did something right.

You begane to wriggle slightly to get more friction where you wanted, but Zenyatta was quick to grab your thighs and hold them apart. You groan in annoyance and Zenyatta notes the damp area on your underwear.

His fingers moved to your waistband but he remained still, looking at you to ensure your comfort and acceptance. You take a big, calming breath before giving him the go ahead with a small smile.

Your hands also moved to the waistband to help yourself out of them. Zen folded them neatly and placed them on a nearby chair. Looking at the chair you motion to help him take off his clothing. “I don’t want to be the only one naked in here,” you look at him with a bit more confidence. He chuckles, “of course Dearest.” His clothes were folded and placed on the same chair very meticulously before he turned back to you.

Your legs weren't crossed but the hands you were resting on your lap blocked most of his view. He kmelled in front of your pressed knees and asked if he could come in and admire you. You laugh a bit at the strange comment but open your thighs just enjoy that Zenyatta could see the smallest bit.

His hands ran along the undersides of your thighs before they moved inwards to pull their plush slide and improve his view. “You are beautiful here as well,” he coos. “Even if you decide to change. I am sure you will be just as beautiful with a penis. Just as you are with a vagina. I trust you and your decisions. As long as you keep yourself safe.” He chuckles at the end as normally it’s him who will keep you safe.

He worried about the surgery for what it was and not what it did. There could be complications or something could go wrong, get mixed up. And healing after can be a mixed bag. He just wanted you to have the best and safest surgery if that was the path you went down. Maybe he would learn to do it himself, have Angela teach him how.

His hands slid up your thighs and over your pubic mound. Still avoiding your core which had been weeping slightly at his other touches. He brought himself closer to your core, his optics trained on the sight and illuminating your folds in a pale blue.

The anticipation and sight of Zenyatta between your legs was getting you heated. Your hips were fidgeting and you moved your pussy closer to his face to encourage him to do something.

He chuckled and lifted his head from between your thighs to look you in the face and ask, “do I have your permission Dearest?” “I trust you,” you replied in shaky breaths.

He placed one hand on each thigh and placed his thumbs tantalisingly close to your entrance. He used the fingers on his left hand to draw long, broad strokes through your folds while high right hand moved much higher to your nipples.

While he did not have a mouth, he made quick work with both your nipples, making you arch your back into his touch. He would ghost around the areola then pinch and roll the bud between his forefingers . Your favorite move is the slight vibrations Zenyatta produces to calm the abused flesh. It feels like a vibrator on low, maybe lower.

His left hand continues inta broad strokes but the vibration technology would soon find its way to your clit. You jerk at the sudden simulation as he presses his now vibrating thumb over the nub.

His left hand, done teasing your nipples, collects your lubricant which had begun to spill onto the table. He looks at his fingers and wonders if he could find the exact chemical compound in exchange for not being able to taste it as Cassidy mentioned one should do.

Sufficiently lubricated he pushed one finger into your folds and quickly added a second when he found little resistance “You are so relaxed. You are doing well Dearest,” he says in a high tone with a hum of affirmation and affection.

With vibrations along your sensitive walls and on your clit, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. “Touch me more!” you cry out as you feel the knot of your orgasm begin to form.

Anything Dearest. May I?” He pulls you onto his lap with your back pressed against his chest. His hands immediately went back to their work bringing you to orgasm. A flash of gold appeared from Zenyatta as six new hands appeared behind him and began to wrap around your form.

Some toyed with your nipples like zenyatta had done before but now in tandem. Another was gently stroking your hair and moving any loose strands out of your face. Two kept your thighs spread as far wide they could go to give Zenyatta the maximum space to work. The last was rubbing circles on your stomach to keep you relaxed and grounded as you soared toward your orgasm.

There wasn’t an inch of skin Zenyatta left untouched as his gold arms danced across your body. He adds a third finger into your pussy and aims at you g-spot vigerougly, well as vigorous as much as someone like Zenyatta could be.

Your breaths were heavy and the coil was tight, almost, almost ready to snap. He increased the vibrations inside and out before you felt the coil snap and you went tumbling over the edge of your orgasm.

Zenyatta helped you through your orgasm while you moaned out his name. Turning quickly, he grabbed a towel and a glass of water he had prepared previously. “Is there anything else you need Dearest?” he asked in a happy tone. When you shook your head no he asked, “Do you feel more relaxed?”

You honestly do. From his excellent massaging skills to your mind melting orgasm. You hadn't felt this good in months. “I feel amazing,” you sigh in relaxation, “and thank you for loving me.”

“No thank you for trusting me Dearest. With your body and your feelings. I am always here for you if you want to talk about it further or just want to talk about your week.” He listed off, “If you are sad I could tell you a joke or give you a hug.”

While you doubted his ability to tell jokes. He hugs better than any other. A place to talk. One on one. With the love of your life. About whatever you want. Sounds like a dream.

“I would love to Zen”

“Thank you Dearest”

[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.

[graytalents]

Lights, camera…

Yeah, I love voyeurism

“And this,” he presents with a flourish. “is the legendary stage used for my last production.”

Zen had taken you on an after-hours tour of the theater he just wrapped up with. His performance was nothing short of spectacular, and you had brought him flowers and wine as congratulations.

You waited and chatted with Jaehee until he was done greeting fans, and finally said goodbye to her when she finished gushing over his performance to him. You both laughed and cooed over how cute Jaehee could be.

You had taken Zen out to eat at his favorite restaurant, talking animatedly about the process, rehearsals, and pre-show jitters.

Because he was still so animated from the closing night, he took you back to the theater, where the cleaning staff and directors decided to deal with the set later.

In the present moment, he helped you climb onto the (very tall) stage.

“Even when no one’s here, I can still feel the electricity. It makes me … I dunno. Excited? Anticipatory? Nervous?”

You turn to look at him. He’s staring out into the empty seats, and he looks almost as if he’s reliving the performance. He had an almost aura of awe and reverence. You felt the electricity he referenced, goosebumps shivering down your back and arms.

He took notice and frowned slightly.

“Are you cold? Take my jacket, here,” he made a move to shrug off his jacket until you stopped him.

“No, it’s not that. I-I think I can feel it. The electricity, I mean,” you stammered.

He beamed, expression bright. He wanted nothing more than to share his passion with everyone, but he especially wanted you to feel it. You supported him through all of his shows, celebrated his successes, and lamented his losses. Hearing you say that you can feel what he does, if even just a fraction of it, made him feel giddy.

He scooped you up and twirled you around while planting frequent kisses on your head, forehead, cheeks, eyelids, and lips.

Then, he lost his balance. You both fell, with him narrowly avoiding crushing you by landing on his forearms. He protected you by keeping his arm between your head and the floor.

“Sorry, are you okay?”

He laughed, out of breath. “Don’t say sorry to me! I’m fine, are you hurt?”

You shook your head. He looked so beautiful above you, lights casting a soft halo around him. You reached out and pulled him closer, lips parted for a deep kiss.

He was surprised, but quickly followed your lead. He kissed you back fervently, positioning himself to better hold your side.

You lifted your knee, allowing him to settle in between your legs more comfortably. The kiss was passionate, and you were both grasping onto each other and panting.

“You’re so beautiful. How are you mine?” he smiles gently at you, despite his tousled hair and bitten red lips.

“Why don’t we put on a performance of our own, Hyun?” you almost whispered this, giving him a sly smile. He turned red, but he didn’t immediately decline either.

After what seemed to be a few minutes of internal back and forth (what if we get caught? how dirty is the floor?), he answered by giving you open mouthed kisses down your neck. You moaned, wanting to feel more.

When he got to the base of your neck, he bit and sucked at the tender skin, leaving a small mark that would bloom in the coming days. You trailed your hands down his back and lightly made your way to his front. You palmed at him, feeling him getting hard already. He let out a low groan into your neck. He dropped his body fully onto you, and you gyrated your hips against his. He relished in the feeling for a moment before moving his mouth down your chest. He lowered the neckline of your top just enough for him to see your perky nipple. Tongue swirling around, your back arched deeper into his touch.

He sucked and bit you until you cried out, feeling impossibly damp between your legs. You pressed yourself against him, looking for any kind of friction to help with the white hot ache within you.

“You’re so impatient, my love,” he murmured. He thrust against you just right, so the rough fabric of his pants rubbed deliciously against your clit. “Don’t you know? The climax in the show is the best, but we have to build up our audience, don’t we?”

With that, he placed his fingers in your mouth.

“Suck, my love.”

You obliged, taking two of his digits and swirling your tongue around them. You looked up at him through your lashes. He looked entranced, just before finding the hem of your underwear and slipping his other hand into your folds. He gathered your wetness, and began to lightly squeeze your nub between two of his fingers. You cried out, the sensation being too much.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, keep sucking for me, baby, you feel so good and wet already,” he cooed.

You were nearing your high when he stopped suddenly.

He had you stand and remove your clothing piece by piece. He sat in front of you, back towards the audience, while he enjoyed the show. With each article of clothing, he made remarks.

First, came the top — “You’re so beautiful.”

Then, came your bottoms — “I think about every single part of you every day.”

Finally, your underwear — “Sometimes I wonder how I got this far in life without your pretty pussy.”

You let out a shaky breath, blood rushing throughout your body and it made you throb. He motioned for you to come closer, closer, until he pulled you to sit atop his clothes body. He ran his hands down your body, eyes focused on every part of your being.

Finally, finally, he got to your clit. Gently, he rubbed you while his other hand undid his zipper and freed his aching cock. You could feel it on your back, warm and heavy.

Having had enough with his teasing, you guided his leaking tip to your soaking folds. He groaned, eyes threatening to roll back.

You slid his tip over and over your folds until he grabbed your hips and sat you down on his cock.

You gasped, mouth in a little oh! as he began to pump into you.

“This is it, my love. Can you, ngh, feel it? The audience l-loves you,” he grunted with every thrust. “T-The audience wants, mm, to see you!”

With that, he adjusts your position so that you were on your hands and knees, and he was behind you. Here, you had a full view of the empty seats while your leading man knelt behind you.

You screamed as you felt him bend down and lick a long stripe from your clit to your opening. He had his hands gripping your ass, spreading you completely open for him to devour. He used his tongue to collect your arousal and shove it back into your hole.

It was too much. Your back was arched lewdly in this extremely public place, and your lover was making you feel all kinds of pleasure. The thought of being watched was exhilarating.

The pressure built so strongly in your stomach exploded suddenly. You came hard and fast, giving him no warning. He kept nibbling on your nub through your orgasm and only stopped to lick up your cum.

After giving you a second to breathe, you keened as you felt his thick cock slip past your folds. He slid fully in and grabbed your face to point it towards the seats.

“Give them a show. I want to hear and see you give into this feeling completely,” he said quietly.

He started to pump into you, angling his hips in order to reach the soft and spongy spot inside of you. He grabbed your hair and gently pulled your head up to ensure you kept your spot as the leading lady on stage.

Your thighs began to shake from both exertion and overstimulation. He snaked his free arm around you and began to rub at your clit while his girth bullied its way into you.

Too much, too much, too much!

“Hyun! I-I’m gonna—“

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you released all over him again. He kept his hand in your hair and smacked your ass with the other before gripping your hip.

He pumped into you faster, bringing tears to your eyes. You wanted to babble about how good and thick and well he was fucking you, but the overstimulation had you just moaning and whining. He came, hot and quick, into you, groaning into your ear as he enveloped you.

You stayed on the floor for a while, recovering and catching your breath. He turned to look at you.

“Encore?” he asked cheekily.

[vijikuo]

characters: aether x baker!male reader "sweet."

summary: aether makes it his routine to visit his darling's little cafe down the road. to make the visit more interesting—aether takes his time to fluster you.

aether takes ur big cock nd shoves it in his punany, '' oh m JEE, ALPHA! NGGGGh!'' he cries out, babling bceoming incoherent. [name] smirked, a lightsaber coming in hand, '' MAY THE FORVE BE W. U, AETHEHR''' he cried, stabbing the biy.

teh end !!

(Serious posts will be posted... soon? No promises)

[ifangirlalot]

how about botw link breathe some of that wild into me tf

[mysticm3ss]

Chapters: 24/24 Fandom: Mystic Messenger (Video Game) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Zen | Ryu Hyun/Main Character, Zen | Ryu Hyun/Reader, Zen | Ryu Hyun/Original Female Character(s), 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character, 707 | Choi Luciel/Reader, 707 | Choi Luciel/Original Female Character(s), 707 | Choi Luciel & Main Character Characters: Zen | Ryu Hyun, 707 | Choi Luciel, Han Jumin, Kang Jaehee (Mystic Messenger), Kim Yoosung, V | Kim Jihyun, Vanderwood (Mystic Messenger), Choi Saeran, Original Female Character(s) Additional Tags: Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Heavy Drinking, Creampie, Angst, Multiple Endings, Named Main Character (Mystic Messenger), Plus-Size Main Character, Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content, but only towards the very end, Reset Theory (Mystic Messenger), POV Second Person, Mental Health Issues, Borderline Personality Disorder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Cheating, Eventual Happy Ending Summary:

After Ending 2 of the April Fools DLC, Zen has realised that 'MC' doesn't exist... but in another world, a young woman named Leah does. With Seven's help, the pair of them manage to bring her—you—into their reality.

But even when you're desperate to escape your old mundane life, adjusting to living in a fictional reality is no easy feat—especially when you have your own set of mental health issues to cope with. With that said, though... it is nice to be hugged by your favourite fictional characters.

__________________________

I finally finished writing this goddamn fic!!! please read it and comment lol I've done sooo much writing the past few days my brain is dead