#shanks: he's six!

[snackleggg]

Au where Shanks and Buggy became co-captains together.

Their crew is called the Red Pirates, both for Shanks' red hair and Buggy's red nose. Even though they didn't have their falling out, they're still emotionally constipated about each other and having been pining will-they-won't-they style for 20 years while somehow not realising the other feels the same.

They are best friends, they are co-captains, they are partners, they are boyfriends, they are married, they are in some kind of intimate relationship and both want to define their relationship as more but are too scared of ruining the careful balance that their strange friendship rivalry evolved into after all these years.

The moral of the story is change is hard but ultimately good and these old men need to stop pining and start fucking before their exasperated crew actually murder their self-doubting asses.

[kacievvbbbb]

You ever think about how Mihawk definitely does not hear his name alot?

Like there are probably only 2 people in the entire world that consistently refer to him by name. To the rest of the world he’s just an epithet. He might as well have no real name for as little as he hears it.

He’ll hear it at introductions always preface by his epithet, he’ll see it in the bounty posters and notice it in the history books. But barely anyone will ever calm him that. Just a pink headed ghost girl and the red headed half of the most complicated situationship panning 20 years.

You ever think about how Shanks probably has a thousand and one nicknames for Mihawk he cycles through at a whim but maybe Mihawk’s favorite will always be the soft way in which Shanks calls out his given name like that’s all there is too it like there’s a Mihawk that exists all on its own. No matter the situation Shanks calls him Mihawk and he has his full attention

[blackholesun321]

Guys while hallucinating on my new meds, I came to the realization that Mihawk was out on the open seas as swordsman since he was a teenager maybe even younger…. Did he ever finish a normal education?

Scratch that did he even have a normal education? Does he know math? Can my guy tell me the quadratic formula? Like I think we all forget as individuals how much school taught us yes the school system is broken blah blah but guys we understand germ theory and how birds fly and chemistry and biology that people just 60 years ago wouldn’t have known and would have killed to know, like I’m sure he can write and I’m pretty sure he can read but does he know how the moon pulls the tide? Did he know the earth wasn’t flat until he saw a globe for the first time?

Have we as individuals been bamboozled by the stoic gothic refinement of luxury that Mihawk projects we completely overlooked they fact the guy probably doesn’t know salt is a rock? Like wanna bet he saw how cool the over the top refined gay goth was and just like tailored that too his vibe but he’s never actually read a classic in his life?

What I’m trying to get at is Shanks who grew up around some of the smartest people in the world who spoke multiple languages, one was a doctor and you know Rayliegh who definitely doubled as a quartermaster might have a higher education then Mihawk.

Like I think it would be funny if Shanks was the guy who read books on Philosophy and artistic historical movements throughout the world (cough to impress Mihawk cough) and Mihawk doesn’t know how fish breathe underwater and has never read anything higher the a YA novel. (Which are awesome books but talk about reading a book by its cover! Lol… I’ll see myself out.)

[petrichorium]

Picking away at my selfship masterposts and it’s so funny trying to do the like,,,,,,, list of tropes/symbolism thing bc I keep wanting to put slowburn on all of them LOL

[cave-monkey]

Monkey King 2009 Episode 7

Huh. Is it just me or did they do something different with the animation this episode? More detailed faces? Additional expressions, maybe? The transitions aren't as smooth, but there seems to be...more there, somehow.

Anyway, in making up for the last two episodes I guess, this one is just fun. Ginseng Fruit is an absolute character. I'm not sure I like them, exactly, but then, neither is Stone Monkey, so there we go lol.

The monkeys being perfectly okay with random little guys clambering over them is one of my favorite things. They're immune to this sort of thing. Or like...mostly. We had a bit of a sample size this episode.

Marshal Ma: Immediately starts stress-scratching but makes zero effort to actually remove this weird little creature from his person. Marshal Liu has to rescue him.

Marshal Liu: Perfectly at ease with this weird little not-monkey hanging off of him. Cool as a cucumber. An absolute pro. A Dad, even.

Stone Monkey: GET IT OFF

(Stone Monkey succumbed to the inevitable and let Ginseng Fruit clamber over him and go on rides as they please eventually, but also they WILL get slung into the stratosphere if they can't hang on and Stone Monkey doesn't see how that is any of their concern. Train that grip or die, little buddy.)

They were trying to endear the four generals to us in the beginning of the episode too, I just know it, but I am holding strong. They need to properly apologize at this point before they get ANY slack. That said, them actually trying to do their jobs (to varying degrees of success) and actively looking out for their exhausted troop, was pretty all right. Sure, the fact that they can't manage to figure out how to man sustainable defenses without running their forces into the ground before any battle or siege even has a chance to start isn't good, but we already know they aren't great at their jobs and that's probably meant to be the point. Maybe a nod to how frequently Flower Fruit Mountain got into deep shit without Monkey King in the actual book.

And, okay, if the Demon King had actually been testing their defenses during this time, I'd cut them some slack, but we know he wasn't. He was busy fumigating his house and losing to fruit babies. He has a life outside of you!

Also, General Ba not even pretending to be doing anything besides shit-stirring was kind of funny.

Them not immediately letting on that they know exactly who Stone Monkey is was...probably cool of them, though? Not throwing the kid under the bus of this total stranger. Or they were just messing with Ginseng Fruit because they could. They're monkeys, Ginseng Fruit is Dramatic; maybe it was just too tempting to resist the mischief. Or they just wanted to pretend Stone Monkey didn't exist for awhile! The possibilities are endless.

Stone Monkey gets woken up from a nap and immediately chooses violence against random infants. (He is going to regret that.)

Hilarious how, so long as they were arguing and Ginseng Fruit was insulting him, Stone Monkey was perfectly happy to hang around, but as SOON as they start loudly praising him to the heavens, he panics and runs for the hills. Relatable. Little does he know, no one will ever reach Ginseng Fruit escape velocity. You are friends now, Stone Monkey. The choice was never yours. Face loss with dignity. (He does not. I haven't really felt the need to share screenshots in awhile, but this whole episode has me wanting to, because Stone Monkey's faces while Ginseng Fruit ran him down were great. Boy was struggling.)

But also, wow, he really does like his friends a little mean, doesn't he? Stone Monkey has a type, and Ginseng Fruit is not it. Good thing Ginseng Fruit has decided this isn't their problem.

Speaking of, I was gonna make a comment about Six Ears being inexplicably missing again for an entire half an episode, but turns out Stone Monkey was going to visit Jade Rabbit this whole time, so, you know. I guess that's their go-to excuse now for when they need a reason Six Ears and Stone Monkey aren't attached at the hip? Last time they just had to do it and hope no one noticed. (We noticed.)

Also I'm sure Six Ears being left totally alone while the Demon King and Company were screaming about flattening Flower Fruit Mountain in the beginning of the episode isn't going to lead to any unfortunate circumstances.

AWWW. Jade Rabbit protected Stone Monkey! She's got him tucked behind her when she goes after Ginseng Fruit, and even more notably, Stone Monkey stays there. I'm pretty sure Ginseng Fruit traumatized him. The Demon King wishes he had what Ginseng Fruit has. Literally. (Also also...so Stone Monkey SEES the crater left from where she went after Ginseng Fruit and even makes a 'wow I almost witnessed a murder. wow I might STILL witness a murder' face while Ginseng Fruit is held at wand-point but...says nothing to vouch for this kid. Leaves them to fend for themself entirely. Cold, Stone Monkey.) (He will also come to regret that.)

Jade Rabbit's really a, uh, 'kill them all, let Someone sort it out, maybe' kind of a girl, huh? Shoot first, ask questions never. She is out for BLOOD. That rock VAPORIZED. That's a nice little warm-up for what she wants to do to another, somewhat monkier shaped rock. She really went from ':)' to 'MURDER' in .2 seconds flat, and that is not an exaggeration.

And, look, she's going for Stone Monkey's entire, literal life almost immediately after this, but backing up I have to say that Stone Monkey's embarrassed/apologetic smile and Jade Rabbit's answering embarrassed smile while Ginseng Fruit did their thing was so cute. They're cute.

And then Jade Rabbit's slow death glare over her shoulder.

[insert boss music]

Run.

(Stone Monkey's blank Default Smile Face when he dodges Jade Rabbit's first murder attempt is also extremely funny. He is having a day today.) (This episode is so funny.)

And don't let me forget to mention!

Appreciation for the fact that, even while running for his life and still actively being pursued by divine vengeance, Stone Monkey is 100% ready to switch gears over to Gotta Rescue Six Ears mode on a dime.

But also: What are the chances?

Just glances casually to the left while sprinting away from a Murder Rabbit shooting death beams and, oh, hey, there's Six Ears getting MOBBED just down that hill! What a coincidence!

Like, not only do we find Six Ears surrounded by enemy soldiers like they're iron shavings and he's the magnet in a kid's science demonstration, but they somehow managed to find him in the MIDDLE of a RANDOM PART OF THE MOUNTAIN, presumably NOWHERE NEAR the main body of the troop considering how close they are to the Forbidden Forest, with Six Ears probably not having been doing anything but minding his own business and taking a nap away from the noise or whatever else it is he does when off by himself, like, not only this, but also Stone Monkey manages to run right into them.

Quick, what do you think is more powerful? Six Ears's 'Designated Damsel' danger magnet aura or Stone Monkey's inexplicable ability to cut a straight line toward him at any given moment of duress?

Jokes aside, Six Ears was holding his own pretty well, though! Stone Monkey's coming in like an irate comet in a few seconds, so he'll definitely be fine unless the Demon King manages to grab him as a shield and run first, but Six Ears managed to hold out against most of them by himself! Pretty sure he killed a dude, too? Ehhh I'm sure it's fine. He's doing a good job! He shouldn't beat himself up too much for needing help! (He's definitely going to beat himself up too much.)

...Oh, hey! It occurs to me that Jade Rabbit and Six Ears are almost in sight of each other.

!!!

Let them be friends.

Or the pettiest of mortal enemies. I feel like that could work too, but also that those are probably the only two options.

[delphicfool]

Shanks: Can I have this one? I promise I’ll take care of it!

Beckmann: No, you always say that and then I’m always the one to look after it

Shanks: 🥺

Beckmann: *already knowing he’s going to regret this …fine

2 WEEKS LATER - ANOTHER CHILD HAS BEEN FOUND

Beckmann: every fucking time

so that new Film Red trailer huh

[ravarui]

For Shanks how many shots would it take for you to sleep with. . . Smoker? ( @songofnoheart )

How many shots would it take? Accepting @songofnoheart

"Smoker....Smoker...." He taps his cheek, trying to remember who exactly that was, the name did ring a bell after all. "A marine, aye?" Whitehaired and with a scar if his memory serves him right. "If it's the one I have in mind I'm gonna say....six or seven? Wouldn't be the first time I've fucked a marine." And it's not as if seven shots are enough for him to feel inebriated in any way in the first place.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine giving Shanks baby fever

At a tavern

Child: I wanna join your crew!

Shanks: pfft, no way

Child: I'm a real good fighter, I won't get in the way, I promise!

Shanks: hmmm, [taps his chin and looks like he's thinking about it]

Child: [thinks he's going to get a chance]

Shanks: hmm...Hmmm?... No

Child: aw come on

Child's mother: [barges into the tavern holding her infant] Julius Antony D. Frost! What do you think you are doing here? You haven't finished your chores, the goats got hungry and two of them broke into the house!

Child: but mom!

Child's mother: here hold this [foists her infant into your arms and drags her son off by his ear]

You: ??? [Looks to the local barkeep for help]

Barkeep: she'll be back when she realizes, just look after that little girl until then.

You: [pulls the infant closer to you and glowers]

Barkeep: I know it's a little unorthodox, but that lady has six kids, you're holding her only daughter, and her husband is a fisherman. This means he's gone most of the time, and her five eldest boys keep her busy, so please don't judge her, we help her out as much as she'll allow.

You: fine, [goes over to your table with Shanks]

Shanks: [cocks his head and gets a good look at the baby]

Baby: [looks at Benn and starts to cry]

Shanks: [pushes Benn away] You're scaring the baby.

Benn: ay! Ay! Alright, alright, I'll move.

You: [bounces the infant, pats it on the back, and starts to sing to try]

Baby: [settles down, and relaxes against your shoulder]

Shanks: wow, I didn't know you were so good with kids.

You: I didn't either... [Turns to the barkeep] Can I get this table wiped down so I can set the baby down?

Barkeep: [ obliges]

You: [sits the baby's weight down on the table, but keeps your arm around her so she's still leaning against you] Are you the cutest baby in the world?

Baby: ◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜

You: [gasps] Yes you are, you are the cutest baby in the whole world. [Gently tickles her tummy]

Baby: [giggles]

The crew: [find the two of you painfully adorable]

Baby: [ turns to Shanks and makes grabby hands at him]

Shanks: [ leans in closer]

Baby: [grabs a handful of his hair]

Shanks: she's got a good grip on her, how old is she? A year?

Barkeep: yeah, fourteen months, I think.

You: oh I could just eat you up, yes I could! In fact, I think I will. [Blows raspberries on her tummy]

Baby: [erupts into laughter]

You: [ pulls the baby back to your chest, leans back against Shanks, and smiles up at him] She still has that baby smell.

Shanks: (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Child's mother: [bursts through the establishment's doors] Holly!

Baby: [whips around to look at her mother]

Child's mother: oh thank God, thank you for looking after her, I'm so sorry.

You: it's okay, she's easy to deal with, plus from the looks of it you had your hands full. [ Passes her her child]

Child's mother: she is, isn't she? Thank you have a nice day. [Leaves with her child]

Later that night

Benn: you've been eyeing them all night, what's up.

Shanks: [shifts his gaze from you to Benn] So I'm not as subtle as I thought I was... I dunno. Ever since seeing them with the baby, what was her name? Holly?... I guess I can't get it out of my head.

Benn: oh you've got baby fever, don't cha?

Shanks: [blushes] maybe

Benn: I thought you didn't want kids on this boat anymore?

Shanks: I don't, that hasn't changed. [Gets up and heads over to you] What do you say we call it a night?

You: hmm, alright, I'm getting tired anyway. [Lets Shanks lead you to the Captain's quarters]

Shanks: [is handsy with you the whole way]

You: [doesn't mind] You seem rather frisky tonight, or at least friskier than usual.

Shanks: Sorry, but seeing how good you are with kids really ignited something within me. [Smooches up and down your neck]

You: I thought you didn't want kids?

Shanks: For Fuck's sake, I don't, not yet, but that doesn't mean I don't want to practice. [Dumps you on the bed and starts to take off his pants.]

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[cozage]

Hi hope you are having a good day

I wanted to know what would it be like if, Mihawk, Shanks and Buggy had a female s/o that was basically like inosuke from demon slayer, they are a bit dumb but will pick a fight with everyone, and they only wear a bandaged top with like shorts or smt.

You guys have been asking me lots of questions and making me feel loved so here is this!!! (And maybe more spicy things to come later this week 👀)

Characters: female reader x Mihawk, Shanks, Buggy Wordcount: 850 CW: the last bullet point in all of them that are a little spicy

She’s Kinda Stupid, but…

Mihawk

This man is literally so tired. He’s so tired. 

Will very often say things like “I didn’t know I was in charge of three children.” (yes Perona and Zoro are his CHILDREN okay) or “Are you acting your age today, or are we pretending you’re six years old again?” or “I’ve met dogs more behaved than you.” (it’s all coming from a place of love and he knows you won't take offense because you don’t take offense to anything)

You’re a brat and he knows it (and loves it). He loves you but god you are so much work when the two of you are out in public. He feels like he can’t take his eyes off you or you’ll end up in a fight with some random guy because he looked at you funny. 

Most of the time he doesn’t acknowledge your shenanigans. When you fight with someone, he’ll grab your wrist and physically pull you away from them, usually with some kind of snide remark. 

Sometimes you’re justified, though. And when that happens, he gives the guy who wronged you five seconds to apologize before he sets you loose. Most of the time the guy sees Mihawk and apologizes, but the swordsman secretly hopes the guy won't apologize. And on the few occasions they don't apologize, he smirks as he releases you. 

He always has to pull you off the guy because you just don't know when to stop. In all truthfulness, it kind of gets him hot and bothered, but he always pretends to be irritated. “You’re psychotic. Do I need to teach you how to behave?” he scolds, his gold eyes scanning your body. “I can think of a few ways to get you to listen.”

Shanks

Shanks adores you. Cheers you on. Loves watching you cause absolute chaos. Why? Because you are him without a conscience. 

Shanks knows when he needs to flip the switch from polite to fight, but you don’t. You are always at 100%, your most authentic self 24/7. And he absolutely adores that about you. Even if that means that sometimes you take it a bit too far. 

Sometimes Shanks will even use your emotions to his advantage. “Can you believe that guy just did that?!” or “Talk about rude!” knowing full well you’re ready to throw down whoever wronged you or him. 

The absolute only time that Shanks will stop you from fighting someone is when you all are in a building. He’s had to pay SO MANY owners back for you destroying glassware and furniture and plenty of other damaged goods. You learned pretty quickly that the first words out of your mouth should be “Wanna take this outside?!” because if you were outside then Shanks didn’t stop you. 

The first few fights, he watched carefully, making sure he would be able to jump in if he needed to. The next couple of fights, he watched you with an amused look, excited to see how you were going to beat up the guy (and just to make sure you would win). Nowadays, he doesn’t even feel the need to go outside with you, but sometimes he does just to cheer you on. 

After your victory, he always rewards you with a bunch of kisses and sings your praises. He pulls you onto his lap at the bar, making sure everyone knows you're his. “You did so well. I loved how you stomped that guy into the dirt,” he’ll coo, dotting kissing across your neck. “How about later I show you just how proud I am of you, okay?”

Buggy

You never cease in stressing this man out. He is always on high alert now because of you. 

Stealth missions? Forget it. Normal day in town? Absolutely not. He BEGS you to be a normal human being in public. To have an ounce of self preservation. But you cannot comprehend that. People who talk shit deserve to get hit.

He is constantly running after you, screaming at you to stop fighting people for no reason. Sometimes he’ll even jump in front of your punches to try and de-escalate it (which of course doesn’t work and results in you just punching him in the face). You don’t even feel bad, you just scream at him to get out of the way and beat up the other guy even more since he made you hurt your boyfriend.

If anyone makes fun of him, he doesn’t even have a chance to scream at them anymore. You’re already pounding their face into the ground. And every time you do, he falls in love with you a little bit more. 

“That’s right, that’s my baby!” he screams, watching you smugly walk away from some guy’s beaten body. “Let’s go celebrate, you can do whatever you want.” He grabs your hand, practically pulling you back to the ship.

[cloudzoro]

Fate | Buggy x reader x Shanks ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

genre: smut, nasty nasty smut (minors dni) and a tiny little bit of fluff at the end

pairings: buggy x reader x shanks

wc: 13.3k

cw: fem!reader, bartender reader, semi public sex, a lap dance, a LOT of dirty talk, biting, piss kink, omorashi, so much oral, jealous!buggy, buggy is actually really sweet, brat tamer shanks, spanking, pussy slapping, spitting, some parts are dialogue heavy, buggy's detachable dick, shanks lowkey has a clown fetish, squirting, overstimulation, aftercare, love confessions

masterlist | one piece masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your childhood friends, Buggy and Shanks, both found your bar around six months ago and have been hooking up with you ever since. The connection the three of you have runs much deeper than mindless sex so you finally get them in the same place at the same time so you can fuck like animals and confess your love.

a/n: I'm so fixated on buggy right now i literally can't think of anything else

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You're just starting your evening shift at your bar when a familiar hat and blue pigtails comes sauntering into the building.

“Hi, Buggy,” you call, and your old friend wanders up to the bar with a grin on his face.

“Hi, sweetheart. We’ll have whatever you got. We're celebrating tonight,” he says. You nod and signal to one of your security guys to go down to the basement and get the big barrels you're not strong enough to carry. You don't need to worry about any trouble at the bar when Buggy and his crew are there, though you worry that one day he'll be here at the same time as the actual pirate whose protection you're under.

The small island your village is on is under the jurisdiction of red-haired Shanks. Your mayor hasn't officially accepted Shanks’ offer yet. Still, you have a feeling that with all the business their pirate crew brings to your village—buying from your local farmers and frequenting your bar—he'll formally accept when Shanks returns from his next voyage. The lack of permission from your mayor doesn't matter to Shanks; he's ultimately just using this island as a base to place you under his protection.

You, Shanks, and Buggy were all on the same pirate ship as youngsters. You'd been impossibly close, inseparable at all times. After they'd had a falling out at the site of your former captain's execution, you'd refused to pick a side, and Shanks had taken you with him so he could drop you off at a quiet island where you leave your pirate life behind you.

However, after Shanks and Buggy had made a name for themselves, your history of piracy had worked its way into your present. Shanks had been the first to find you, having been the one to drop you off, and wasn't surprised to see you now owning and running one of the bars in your village. He'd walked in by himself and jokingly asked if your bar was pirate-friendly. Your security guy was about to launch forward but was stopped by you, who had called his name and ran around the bar to launch yourself into him. He hugged you back with one arm, and you welcomed his crew into your establishment. Your staff were on their best behaviour that day and respected you more after finding out you were close friends with one of the emperors of the sea.

Buggy had accidentally stumbled upon your bar but was beyond shocked to see you. He had initially threatened your village, but upon receiving a smack and stern talking to from you, he gave up embarrassingly quickly and asked politely to frequent your bar. You allowed him, glad to see him alive and warned him that you were under a different pirate’s jurisdiction. You ordered your staff to be hushed about the pirate being Shanks, so you don't scare off Buggy.

Since then, they'd been coming to your island intermittently, competing with each other without even knowing. Shanks knows there's another pirate who sometimes docks up on your island, and Buggy knows another pirate is trying to lay claim to your land, but neither of them knows it's the other. How they've avoided each other for this long is a mystery to you.

“Hello? Sweetheart?” Buggy's voice draws you from your memories, and you look up at him with a smile. What're you smiling at? You weirdo,” he says, reaching over the bar to flick your forehead. One thing both Buggy and Shanks never grew out of was their childish teasing. Buggy, in particular, likes to wind you up. Whenever you would tattle to your old man, Rayleigh, about the boys teasing you, he would insist that it was because they had a crush on you.

“Nothing, Buggy. I was just reminiscing about the old days,” you say. He rolls his eyes and calls you a sentimental fool. Buggy turns his attention to the bar behind you. He detaches his hand from his body and reaches for the top-shelf whiskey. He's too much of a lightweight for it. You know that much, so you snatch it back and scold him for using his power to rob you of money. You never realised how differently you view your ‘lovers’ compared to everyone else until your staff asked how you have the balls to tell them off and flirt with them, fearing losing a limb for messing with an emperor. Buggy begrudgingly listens; you're the only person he can't bring himself to argue with. He can tease you and wind you up until the cows come home, but if you look genuinely upset, he fills with guilt immediately.

Your security guy comes back with a barrel of cheap booze and helps you set it up. You start to serve it up, beginning with Buggy and then calling over his crewmates. You ensure everyone is served before returning to cleaning glasses and steins to ensure you're on top of things.

Buggy keeps a keen eye on you as you move around the bar, busying yourself with odd jobs. You can feel the clown watching you, and you feel your skin heating up. Your friendship with Shanks and Buggy has always been more than platonic, especially now that you're all grown adults and you own a bar. They're always sneaking you off on breaks or taking you home after to fuck you. They're very different in the bedroom; Shanks is confident and in control, whereas Buggy takes care of you, but ultimately you're in charge. Buggy’s an emperor of the sea now, so you're curious to see if that's helped his confidence. Insecurity usually had him doubting himself in the bedroom, leading to him easily bending to your will for a bit of praise. He appeared to be more sure of himself when he walked in, so you take that as a good sign.

You're focused on the bottles behind the bar when you feel a tug at your skirt. You look down to see a hand creeping under your skirt. The hand slides around to squeeze your ass, and you turn around to see Buggy, handless, staring at you. His hand works its way to the front and slips beneath your panties, collecting your wetness on his fingers. You want to scold him, tell him off for touching you in public, but the predatory grin he's giving you right now is turning you on so bad. Typically, if you told him off, Buggy would drop to his knees and ask to eat you out as an apology, but you're curious to see if his boldness can translate into something more dominating.

You ask your friend to cover you while you go on a break. Buggy follows you as you round the bar and go through the back door to the staff-only area. He wasn't subtle about it. You know most of his crew just saw him go in here.

Buggy catches up to you when you're near a staff storage room, and he attaches his hand back right in time to push you into the room and turns you around to back you up against the door. He immediately attaches his lips to yours. His kiss is heated and messy, hot tongues pressing against each other. Buggy’s hands come up to squeeze your tits through your top, and he drops his kisses to your neck. You were thankful he had come in without makeup tonight, so you don't have to explain to your staff how your neck ended up covered in red lipstick. It happened to you once and was embarrassing for both of you, so you appreciate the consideration. He drops to his knees, kissing your thighs, and as his hand reaches for your panties, you stop him.

“Bug, wait. My break is only ten minutes. We don't have time for all this.” You say, pulling him up by his hair. “Just fuck me properly”, You whine, pulling him into a kiss. He lets you guide it before you get tired of messing around. You want to see how his status as an emperor and newfound confidence has changed the way he fucks you.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks, turning you around and grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“Yes, and I want you to fuck me hard. You're a Yonko now. Where's all that power and aggression?” you ask. Your teasing question works; Buggy's voice is barely above a growl when he responds.

“You wanna see my real power?” he asks, punctuating his question with a slap to your ass. This is exactly what you've been waiting for with Buggy. You nod, and he turns you back around again. He doesn't look mad. There's no dark glint in his eye, and he just looks excited. You know Buggy, he'll never be a hard dom, but you just want to see more control from him, and that is exactly what he's showing. “I need words.”

“yes. I want you so bad.” Buggy smiles at your consent, leaning against the storage cupboard wall. He pushes you down on your knees and undoes his belt and trouser button.

“If you suck my dick for me right now, I promise I'll take you back to my ship and destroy your tight little pussy” You nod and waste no time reaching up to free his cock from his trousers. Buggy laughs at your eagerness. He doesn't receive this kind of sexual attention much, so you tend to fluster him, though he's not letting it show tonight. When you finally get his hard cock in your mouth, he moans embarrassingly loud. He throws his head back, staring at the ceiling as you work him into your mouth. He's all too aware of the fact that he'll cum down your throat the second he makes eye contact with you. “What would people say about you if they opened this door to see you on your knees for a pirate captain? And an emperor, no less,” he says, hips bucking into your mouth slightly as he gets closer to his orgasm. “What would Shanks say if he saw you like this?”

You moan around his cock at the question, and his hips stutter forward, breaking his rhythm. His cock harshly hits the back of your throat, and you gag slightly, pulling off of him. He uses his grip on your hair to pull you back to his cock. You want Shanks and Buggy to fuck you together more than anything. He's never spoken to you like this before, making you gush.

You slip a hand between your legs as you take his cock back into your mouth. Buggy finally looks down at you and groans when he notices what you're doing.

“Are you really touching yourself to the thought of red hair catching us?” he asks, scoffing. “I bet a horny slut like you would want him to join in” You know, Buggy's just as attracted to Shanks as you are, and you feel his cock twitching in your mouth at the mental image of sharing you with him. It doesn't take him much longer to cum. He cums down your throat and helps you wipe off any stray drops of cum that missed your mouth. He pulls you into a kiss as you tuck him back into his underwear and zip up his trousers for him. Buggy almost looks embarrassed at how quickly he's cum, but he quickly gets over it when he realises how turned on you are.

“I'm the boss here, you know. I can cut my shift short if I want to,” you say, pulling him in for another kiss. Buggy feels a stirring in his stomach when he kisses you. It's been happening for years; he chalks it up to being impossibly horny and refuses to look further into it. You go back into the bar and tell your staff that your shift is over, and you trust them to lock up. As you walk back to the Big Top with Buggy, he tells you stories about what he's been up to since he last left your island.

Buggy brings you onto his ship and down to his captain's quarters. As soon as you're in his space, the door is swung shut, and Buggy all but pounces on you. He pulls you into a rough kiss, walking you to the middle of the room. You occupy his thoughts all day, every day. He fantasises about your pretty self putting on a show just for his eyes. He sometimes wants to ask you if you can dance and see if he can ask you to give him a private performance. He’s finally got a chance to fulfil multiple of his fantasies at once, so he doesn’t hesitate in taking it. He pulls away, breathing heavily. He sits down on his throne, which has been pushed up against a wall, and leaves you standing in the middle of the room.

“Take it off for me, give me a show,” he says, leaning back. “make it flashy.”

You start with your top, taking care to remove it slowly. You feel one of his hands squeeze your tits. You whimper at the stimulation, and Buggy laughs. You carefully push your skirt's waistband over your hips until you can drop the garment to the floor. You turn around and hook your fingers in your panties, pulling them down your legs. You go to kick off your heels, but Buggy's hand grabs your ankle to stop you.

“keep ‘em on,” he says. You turn back around to look at him and see he's shirtless, hair down, palming his hard cock through his trousers. You notice he's become more like Shanks now that he's trying to take control. His hand grabs hold of yours so he can drag you over to where he's sitting. He pulls you to his lap so you're straddling him. He guides his cock to your entrance and kisses your neck and shoulders as you take him to the base. “ride me, baby,” he growls.

You obey, lifting your hips upward and slamming them back down. You both moan at the way his cock feels dragging against your walls. Buggy soaks in your pretty noises as his fingers dig into your hips to guide you.

You lean down to capture Buggy in a kiss, tilting your head to avoid his cute nose. Kissing Buggy always feels like you're unravelling a secret; the big scary clown pirate emperor is really just your silly man who wants to take good care of you. You feel close, and you start to drag your hips, grinding down on him. You whimper into the kiss, prompting a laugh from Buggy, who uses his grip on your hips to hold you in place while he fucks up into you.

“I'm gonna cum”, you moan, dropping your head to his shoulder.

“Yeah? Go on then. Make a mess for me”. All it takes is a few more thrusts to reach your high. Buggy watches intently as your orgasm crashes over you. He groans as you scratch at his back. He manages to hold off his orgasm as you come back to your senses. “Can you give me another one?” he asks.

“Didn’t you promise me you were going to destroy my pussy?” you say, pulling him into another kiss.

“I did, didn't I?” he says, before moving forward and laying you down on the fluffy rug spread across the floor. He's on his knees, hovering over your body. He pushes his cock into you again, groaning at how sensitive you both are. He braces himself with his elbows on either side of your head, and then he starts to fuck you properly. He grunts in your ear as he fucks you down into the floor. His cock fills you up so well that it is almost embarrassing how you whimper about it. Buggy loves the rush of adrenaline he gets from fucking you. How you cling to him and whine about how good he feels makes him feel like he could do anything. Your hands fly to his hair as he rearranges your insides, and he moans as you harshly tug at his hair. “That's it. Let me know how good I'm fucking you.”

Your second orgasm hits you like a freight train. He sinks his teeth into your shoulder as you gush around his cock. His orgasm follows closely behind, and he bites down harder as he fills you up with his cum. He tries his best to fuck you through both of your orgasms, and when your walls finally stop pulsing around his cock, he slips out of you carefully. He cleans you up with tissues and then carries you to his bed. He changes into pyjamas and then climbs into bed with you.

“Stay here for tonight. I'll take you home in the morning,” he says, moving a piece of hair out of your face. Buggy is not typically so affectionate with you after you sleep together; he’s never mean to you, but he’s never this soft. It makes you wonder what's changed.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” You ask, cuddling up to his chest.

“Nope, we still have one more day here.”

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Buggy returns to your bar again the next night. He’s doing his usual routine of staring at you, drinking less than all of his crew and waiting to get you alone so that he can fuck you. He’d reminiscing about his previous trip to the island after you’d left the ship that morning, and he’s been having shameful thoughts about trying a specific gross kink with you. You and Buggy had hooked up before. You're no stranger to his wilder kinks, but there's still one that he's been keeping from you up to this point. He thinks he's finally got you comfortable enough to try it. He's been trying to buy you drinks all night, but you've insisted on being a good little bartender and drinking water instead, which was his plan all along. You don't realise Buggy has only had one drink, wanting to stay sober for what he's going to do with you tonight.

He overhears you complaining to one of your coworkers about needing to piss, and his cock twitches in his trousers as he thinks about the night he saw you piss yourself.

It had been an accident; you'd been out drinking with him, and there wasn't a toilet around, but you didn't want to go outside, so you had to try and make it to the next bar without pissing yourself. You were almost there when you felt it start to come out. You made a run for it, and Buggy followed you to guard you. However, he didn't turn around to check for onlookers. He just shielded your body from view with his own. He was too busy staring at the puddle you were making on the floor as you pulled your already-wet underwear down so you could go in the alley. It should have been gross, but he couldn't look away. He couldn't stop thinking about burying his face between your legs.

He hears you ask your coworker to cover you so you can go to the bathroom, and she denies you, saying you close in ten minutes and asking you to hold it. The way you whine in response reminds him of how you whine to him when he teases you. He turns around, facing you. You're standing behind the bar in little black shorts, a crop top and heels, driving him insane. He's grateful for your bar's questionable short and all-black dress code.

After ushering the Buggy pirates out of the bar, you rush through your cleaning and leave your coworker to lock up. You step outside the bar and are met with Buggy waiting for you, leaning against an opposite wall. He's watching the way you walk over to him with a grin on his face. You're wobbling, desperate to piss, and trying to hold it in. You're fidgeting, and it makes Buggy laugh. You scold him, which he pays no mind to before lifting you over his shoulder and carrying you to your home, which isn't far from the bar.

As soon as he's in the door, he puts you down and watches as you run towards your bathroom. Like the predator he is, he lures you into a false sense of security by encouraging you to go to the toilet while he puts your stuff down. However, when you get to the bathroom door, you're greeted by one of his hands holding it closed. You try to get it to let go, but it's no use. Buggy is stronger than you. You scream Buggy's name in anger, and suddenly, his hand is joined by the rest of him.

“Can I help you, sweetheart?” he asks, feigning ignorance and moving his hands to your hips now that his body is blocking the door.

“Please move, Bug. I need to go so bad. It's not funny,” you whine, nearly in tears from the pressure on your bladder. Buggy pulls you into a messy kiss, and when you pull away, he expects to see you glaring. Instead, you're looking up at him with teary eyes and the cutest little pout. He wants to ruin you. “I need the toilet,” you whimper.

“There's one right here,” he says, patting his thighs, and you immediately stop struggling in his grasp. You look up at him in bewilderment.

“That's not funny.”

“I'm not joking,” he responds, leaning down to kiss your neck. “If you think it's too gross, I'll move, but I want to feel you let it go so bad.” He groans into your ear before resuming his kisses. He can tell you're thinking it over.

“What about the mess?” You ask, voice shaky and unsure.

“I'll clean it up.”

“Okay,” your voice is small and desperate, but having your permission launches Buggy into action. He lifts you and carries you over to the guest bedroom that he sometimes crashes in when he's docked here. He dumps you on the bed and helps you strip down to your underwear. Your hands instinctively fly between your legs to cup your pussy, but Buggy is quick to swat them away. He grips the back of your thighs and pushes your legs up towards your chest. Buggy leans down to kiss your stomach, leaving red lipstick marks in his wake. You moan as you finally start to relieve yourself. Buggy leans back, gaze fixed on your cunt.

“Yeah. That's it, baby. Let go for me,” he encourages as he watches you make a mess of your underwear, the sheets, and his trousers. You almost hate how good it felt. Buggy leans down to kiss you, but it's a kiss full of aggression and desperation. “That was so fucking hot,” he growls into the kiss.

He pulls away from the kiss to stare at you, from his makeup all over your skin to your soiled underwear; he wishes he had a camera on him right now. He reaches down and pulls your underwear off, tucking the soaked fabric into his trouser pocket to take with him when they depart from your island. Your exposed pussy has him drooling, and then he hears you whimpering for him to do something other than stare at the mess you made. He can tell the embarrassment is starting to creep in, so he leans back down to your face, shushing you and kissing your lips. He savours the kiss, knowing you probably won't kiss him for the rest of the night after what he's about to do.

Buggy drops to his knees on the floor and drags you closer to the edge of the bed. He then dives right in, licking and sucking at your pussy. He buries his tongue in your hole, moaning loudly at the taste. He'd fantasised about doing this to you for months, but none of his dreams come close to how it feels to have you with him right now, indulging in his dirtiest fantasy. He drags his long tongue back up to your clit and suctions his mouth around it, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud. You're so close to cumming, and with the relief you've already had tonight, you feel tears start to pool.

“Please, Buggy. I'm so close,” you moan, bucking your hips up into his face. Buggy's hands hold you in place as he sucks harshly on your clit as pushes two fingers into you. You moan and arch your back as he fingers you open. His tongue feels so good, and the extra stimulation of his fingers has an orgasm washing over you easily. You moan Buggy's name as tears roll down your face. He's completely focused on drawing your orgasm from you. He licks at every drop that leaks from your sweet pussy.

When you've calmed down, Buggy rises to his feet. He stares down at you like he's staring at his last meal. Your makeup is just as smudged as his. Your skin is covered in remnants of him. You're a vision of pleasure, panting and drooling as you come down from your intense orgasm. Buggy commits the sight to his memories. He towers over the bed, reminding you of how big Buggy is.

“You ready for me?” he asks, detached hands groping your body. When you nod and give him permission to fuck you, he grins something evil. He attaches his hands and manoeuvres you up the bed so your head is against the pillows. He wastes no time pushing his cock into you; if you haven't woken up the neighbours yet, then you definitely will when Buggy starts to thrust his hips. “You look so pretty under me,” he coos. “I should take you to sea with me so I can fuck you on my ship every day,” he says. You know you're close; you feel the tension building inside you. Buggy knows it, too. He can feel your pussy clenching down around him. Right as the tension is about to snap, Buggy pulls his cock out of you, stopping your orgasm in its tracks. You cry out in frustration.

“It's okay, I got you. I just need you to turn over for me,” he says, helping you turn onto your hands and knees. He slowly pushes his cock back into your waiting pussy. He slides a hand over the skin of your back, and then he pauses. He spots the mark on the back of your shoulder. It's a love bite Shanks had given you during your last hookup a few days prior to Buggy arriving. “Who else are you fucking?” he asks, filled with rage. You want him to continue, but you're unsure how he'll react to hearing Shanks' name after all this time.

“Bug, listen-” He doesn't listen. Buggy’s insecurity and the feelings for you he's mostly ignored have risen to the surface. He drapes his whole body over yours to speak directly into your ear.

“If you want to cum, you better tell me who else has been inside of my woman” His voice is low and threatening, and it has you gushing and clenching around him.

“Shanks,” You say, trying to move on Buggy's cock that's still inside of you. Buggy goes completely silent, not growling and panting like he had been seconds ago. It's like his rage has been quelled.

“red-haired?” he asks in shock. You nod the best you can while being squished underneath him. You're expecting another spell of rage, but you feel Buggy's smile against your skin instead. “you promise it's only us?”

“Yes, Buggy. I promise. Now please make me cum” you whimper. Buggy gives in immediately, rutting his hips against yours with reckless abandon. If anything, he's more passionate and determined to make you cum after finding out you've also been with his self-declared nemesis.

“Cum for me,” he says, voice easily cutting through your moans. Your body obeys him without question, slamming face-first into your orgasm like you were made just for him. He cums along with you, pulling out and spilling over your back. Once you've both finished, he reaches for the tissues you keep on the bedside table and wipes his cum off your back.

He then carefully picks you up and carries you to the bathroom, setting you down on the toilet seat. He starts running the shower. As he waits for the water to heat up, he brushes his teeth and tongue with the spare toothbrush you keep for him. He jokes that you can kiss him now and laughs when he looks down at you to see you puckering your lips. He indulges, pressing an overly dramatic kiss to your lips. He tries to calm his heart when you laugh at his silliness, but he can no longer deny his feelings. To distract himself, he ushers you into the shower so he can clean you up properly. He's got both of you clean and in your bed within no time.

He lies next to you in bed, indulging himself in the domestic side of you despite knowing he's got to leave for another voyage tomorrow. He lets you press kisses all over his face and ask him questions about his adventures that he's more than happy to fill you in on. After a while, a comfortable silence fills your bedroom, and Buggy thinks you're finally going to fall asleep so he can leave. He's not quite so lucky; amidst the silence, you raise a hand to cup his cheek and say something that makes his heart feel like it's about to burst out of his chest.

“You're so pretty without makeup, Bug” He's not used to these kinds of compliments, and he buries his face in your neck, grumbling at you to ‘shut the fuck up and go to sleep.’ You listen, giggling as you get comfortable against your pillows.

You hear Buggy call you the most precious jewel on the grand line and realise he must think you’re asleep. You don’t have the heart to wake up and embarrass him so you keep your eyes closed as you take in his sweet compliments and confessions he could never say to you whilst awake.

When you wake up, Buggy is gone from your bed. You check the guest room to see new sheets have been put on the bed, and you look out the window to see your soiled sheets freshly washed and on the line. You smile to yourself as you go downstairs to make breakfast for yourself. Both of your men now know you're sleeping with both of them and if your calculations are correct - and all goes well on their voyages - then both of your men will return to your village on the same day.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A few days pass, and your shifts feel boring without your pirate men bothering you the whole time. You had taken to dressing up a little more for work just in case one of them comes back early and walks into the bar while you're on shift.

Tonight, you're wearing a black minidress and thigh-high boots. You know you look good, having spent 10 minutes staring yourself down in the mirror before leaving the house. Neither of your men showed up at the bar. You'd heard whispers about a pirate ship docking up and gotten your hopes up. You swing open your front door, sulking over the lack of your not-yet boyfriends. However, when you wander through the door, you notice a tall figure blocking the doorway to your living room. At first, he startles you, but you give him a warm smile when you finally realise who it is.

“Hi, Mr.Beckman”, you say, offering him your hand, which he presses a kiss to. He informs you that his captain is waiting for you in the living room, and then he takes his leave after apologising for invading your privacy. You tell him he's welcome anytime and thank him as he leaves your home, leaving you with the red-haired man you find sitting on your sofa.

“Shanks!” you yell, surprised that he's come home a day early. He stands up to catch you as you run into his arm. He picks you up and spins you around, leaving a kiss on your forehead. “You're early”, you point out.

“We were ahead of schedule, and I wanted to see my girl,” he says, pulling you in for a proper kiss. “this dress looks so good on you”, he groans into the kiss before pulling back and asking you to do a twirl so he can check you out properly. He whistles lowly as his eyes take in every inch of your body, all dressed up for him.

“I wore this for you. I've been waiting for you to come back. Why don't you come see what's underneath it?” you say, guiding his big hand under your dress. When Shanks finds his path to your cunt, unobstructed by any panties, he laughs. He moves his hand from your dress, smoothing down the skirt of your dress and then lifting his hand to your chin to tilt your face towards him.

“As much as I want you to give me a proper welcome home, I need to talk to you,” he says, pecking your lips and sitting on the sofa. Shanks pats the space next to him, and you sit down, tucking yourself into his side. “I heard rumours kicking around that my sweet girl has been getting cosy with another pirate”, he says, and you roll your eyes at him, partially because he won't be mad when he finds out who it is and partially because you're not exclusive with either of them.

“It's Buggy,” you say, swinging a leg over Shanks to straddle his lap. His momentarily stormy expression relaxes when he hears the name of the third party in your trio.

“Buggy?”

“I know, I was surprised too. It's like fate is trying to keep us together. I've always belonged to you guys,” You say, grinding your hips down over his hardening cock. Neither you nor Shanks have ever been shy about how you feel about Buggy, but he was always too prideful to admit his feelings. Shanks is smiling now that he knows you haven't been disloyal to him. “he'll be back tomorrow if everything goes to plan,” you say.

“I'd bet you'd like having us both together, wouldn't you, baby?” he teases, bucking his hips upwards and knocking you forward into his chest. “you'd like to take both our cocks in this slutty pussy” The addition of Buggy, though he's not physically there, has ignited Shanks. He's launched into action, talking filthy in your ear as you grind your bare pussy over his crotch. “But you'll have to deal with just me tonight. Is one cock gonna be enough to fuck my greedy girl?”

You nod frantically, adjusting yourself so that you're grinding against his thigh. He chuckles at your eagerness and guides your hips over his leg. You ride his thigh as he leans back into the sofa cushions and watches you. He keeps his hand settled on your hips as you drag your pussy over the muscle of his thigh. Shanks notices you're getting close to an orgasm and tightens his grip to stop you from reaching your high. You whine in protest, and he can tell you're about to start complaining, but he cuts you off himself.

“I want to taste your cum”, he says, pushing you to stand up. He laughs as you stand on wobbly legs. He tugs at the bottom of your dress, signalling for you to take it off while he removes his clothes. He pauses between removing articles of clothing to watch you shimmy the dress down your pretty body and kick it off. Seeing you naked is better than any treasure Shanks could find at sea. Once he's naked, he lies back against the sofa and then beckons you back over to him. “take a seat”, he instructs, helping you straddle his face without falling off the couch.

You lean forward, taking a testing lick at his cock as his tongue makes contact with your pussy. He wastes no time shoving his tongue into your hole and licking at your walls. You moan loudly as you begin to take his cock into your mouth. His cock is thick, and it tests the stretch of your pretty lips. Shanks moves his tongue so your clit, licking and sucking at it as you start to bob your head.

You're both laser-focused on making each other cum. Shanks suctions his mouth around your clit, flicking his tongue over it as he makes out with your pussy. Considering he only has one arm, his grip on you is steady as he holds you in place. You try your best to take his cock as far as you can, and when you take him to the base without choking, you feel the vibrations of his moans against your pussy. Shanks is always vocal, letting you know how good you are.

You start to struggle when you get close to your orgasm. You can't focus on sucking him or bobbing your head while you're moaning and whimpering.

“OK, baby. That's enough,” he says, squeezing your thighs to keep your attention on his words. “Just let me make you cum”, he says, pulling back down to his face once again. His grip is sturdy and keeps you steady as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. He loudly cleans up every single drop from your cunt. Your tense, shaking muscles don't phase him as he holds you in place. He only lets go once he's sure you're done.

Shanks helps you up before standing up and grabbing your hand, letting you pull him through the house and into your bedroom. He lifts you with one arm and kisses you before planting you onto your bed. He tells you to lay back against the pillows, and you follow without question. Shanks climbs onto the bed, sitting on his knees between your legs.

“You're so beautiful”, he says, staring at your naked body so intensely that his gaze has you shifting in discomfort.

“stop staring at it and just fuck me” you whine. Shanks looks up at you with a dark grin that reminds you of who you're dealing with. You've had your soft, warm welcome home, and now it's playtime. Shanks is far more in control than Buggy; riling up Shanks isn't as easy. A little bit of attitude and lack of manners is a good start.

“You wanna tell me what to do, princess?” he asks, you know it's a rhetorical question but you answer anyway.

“I'm not telling you what to do. I'm just giving you a heavy-handed suggestion,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him. He rolls his eyes at your attitude, but you know he's enjoying it; his cock is hard and leaking. He uses his strength to turn you over onto your hands and knees. Once you're in position, he lands a smack on your bare ass, making you gasp.

“How's that for heavy-handed?” he says, massaging the area he had smacked to soothe it.

“More”, you sigh, “Please, Captain”. He groans at the title. You had taken to calling him captain in the bedroom; it is his official title, and it's a reminder of his strength and power. He obliges, giving you a few more swats on the ass before rolling you back over so you can lean your head against the pillows.

“Do you misbehave for Buggy too, or are you a good girl for him?” he asks, leaning over to look into your eyes. He knows your answer is going to annoy him when he sees the cocky smile that settles on your face.

“It's neither. Buggy is a good boy for me,” Shanks laughs, not at all surprised by your confession. “Although he did take charge last time, I guess being a yonko boosted his confidence,” you said, smiling while remembering your most recent time with Buggy. Shanks is still looking at you with his eyebrow raised. “And I was good as gold for him”, you tease, tangling your hands in his red locks and pulling him into a kiss.

“You can behave for other men, but you can't help yourself with me," he says, pressing his fingers to your mouth. You obey his wordless instructions and take them into your mouth. Now that you're gagged, Shanks can speak without backtalk, and your pussy drools with every word that leaves his mouth. “I was going to be nice; fuck you nice and slow and make love to you, but you just can't help running this bratty mouth. I missed my sweet girl and her perfect pussy, but now I have to deny myself to teach you a lesson.” he pulls his fingers from your mouth, waiting to hear a quiet “sorry, captain” from you.

When you apologise, he presses his thumb against your clit and rubs in circles, chuckling at the way you moan out and open your legs. He pushes two spit-soaked fingers into your hole and warns you to keep still as your hips buck up into his hand. You try your best to stay still as Shanks, who holds an unbothered expression on his face, plays with your pussy. He rubs your clit with his thumb while he fingers you. Having one arm has aided with his fingering skills. He hasn't set a rule on volume, and he never has; in all the punishments he's given you, he's never cut off your ability to tell him how good he makes you feel. He's too enamoured with your voice to gag you for more than two minutes. You moan and whimper and beg for him to speed up. The stimulation he's providing you with feels so good, but it's not enough to send you over the edge.

His cock is red and drooling precum. You know he's as desperate as you are, but he's holding himself off.

“Don't you wanna feel good, Captain? I can jerk you off,” you say, reaching out towards him. He shakes his head, pulling his fingers from your cunt only to slap it, fingers smacking harshly against your clit, making you yelp. You're so close to cumming.

“thought I told you to keep fucking still”, he growls, returning to his task of slowly fingering for you. He looks up at your face, expression faltering at the tears starting to pool in your eyes. “Just be good for me, sweetheart,” he says, his voice softening. His cock twitches when he hears you say an obedient “Yes, Captain.”

He speeds up his fingers, fucking you right close to the edge and then stopping as he feels your walls start to spasm around his fingers. Having your orgasm ripped away from you prompts the tears to start falling. Shanks leans down to kiss away your tears, whispering about how pretty you look. You know what he wants to hear.

“I'm sorry, Captain. I promise I'll be good,” you beg. Shanks smiles softly, pressing his fingers to your entrance. “Please, I need to cum. I promise I won't be a brat.”

Shanks cuts off your begging by kissing you, messily pushing his tongue into your mouth. He pushes his fingers back inside of you and thrusts, curling them against your walls.

“Cum whenever you want,” he says against your mouth, intimidating demeanour gone and replaced with your sappy, loving man. You cum with a cry of his name, legs attempting to close around his hand. He works you through it, cooing at you as you gush around his fingers. He pulls his fingers from your pussy and licks them clean as you regain your breath. “tastes so fucking good.”

You watch him intently as he spits onto your pussy and uses his cock to spread it between your folds. You're still sensitive and the feeling makes you twitch. Shanks smiles at you as he pushes his cock inside you, pressing kisses on your face as you whimper at the way his cock stretches your pussy. He starts to thrust, making you arch against him. Your hands reach up to his hair as he sloppily makes out with you. When he pulls away from the messy kiss, you whine his name.

“What is it, princess?” he asks. You wordlessly open your mouth, tongue lolling out. Shanks doesn't need to be told what you want. He spits into your mouth, whispering praises as you swallow. “See what happens when you're a good girl for me?” he says, kissing you again.

Shanks is committed to making you cum, hips laying heavy thrusts as his cock all but splits you open. His lips trail over your skin like a fountain pen on paper, signing his name in invisible ink. His voice has your mind reeling. You feel delirious. You're close already, and Shanks can tell.

“Wait for me, baby. I'm almost there”, He groans, feeling the first signs of his own orgasm. You're not sure if you can hold off any longer, and you tell Shanks as much as your nails cling to his back muscles. He gives you permission to cum, and you fall right over the edge along with him. Your pussy spasms around his cock, milking him for all he's worth while you gush around him. He says something to you, but all you can make out is your name. As you start to calm, Shanks stays inside you, laying his full body weight on you.

“you wanna know something, baby?”

“hmm”

“I've been in love with you since we were eleven,” he says like it's nothing. You go to protest, but he cuts you off to continue. “Buggy is too.”

“This is just the pussy making you talk crazy,” you say, too tired to deal with Shanks's bullshit.

“Nuh-uh. Bug and I used to talk about it whenever you went crying to Rayleigh that we were picking on you.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“We found our way back to you, didn't we? Do you really think we'd be using this tiny island in the middle of nowhere as a base if we weren't obsessed with you?” He says, hand-drawing patterns over your skin.

“Whatever. Just pull out and go to sleep” You huff, and Shanks does as you ask, gently pulling out of you and rolling onto his back. He waits for you to roll over before tucking himself against your back, pulling flush against his chest. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and lets you get comfortable. Just as he's about to drift off, you softly call his name.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Say I do love you back; what would happen?”

“Honestly, not much. We'd just be official. We can stop acting like this is just sexual. If Buggy can man up and admit his feelings, we can admit nothing between us was ever casual, and it was always supposed to be this way,” he says matter of factly. You nod, turning over in his arm so you can Bury your face in his chest.

“Good night, Shanks.”

“Good night, Baby.”

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next morning, Shanks follows you around town like a lost puppy, shadowing you as you buy groceries for the bar. He helps you carry the bags back and even helps you put away your bags when you get back. He can't help but sneak kisses between tasks, not being discreet about your feelings for each other. He's also more antsy than usual; he's sticking close to you, looking around like a meerkat and absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your top when he isn't carrying something for you.

“Are you okay? You're not usually this antsy,” you say, pressing the back of your hand against his forehead like you're taking his temperature.

“I'm just keeping an eye out for Buggy” It's kind of sweet how desperately he wants to include Buggy.

“You'll hear him before you see him,” you say, making Shanks chuckle fondly. “And that probably won't be until later tonight. When he docks up here, I usually don't see him until my shift,” you inform him. Shanks nods, chilling out with your words.

A couple of his crewmates are already drinking in your bar as you clean up, so you're ready to open. Shanks’ men are nicer to you than Buggy's. Beckman is always a gentleman; he's even played security guard for you several times, kicking out patrons who wouldn't take no for an answer. When you ask Yasopp to lift his feet so you can sweep under his table, he swings his boots onto the chair opposite him with a sharp salute and a “yes, ma'am” that has you rolling your eyes.

In comparison, Buggy's crew aren't as welcoming. His business partners have never caused any problems when he's brought them in. Crocodile and Mihawk were initially intimidating, but you won them over with your selection of wine and the knowledge that you were once an apprentice of the pirate king. Alvida was happy to have another woman to talk to after being stuck with Buggy for so long. Outside of those three, his underlings had been rather cold, and you've occasionally had to shut down the bar due to their rowdiness. You dread the two crews meeting tonight and hope the relationship between the captains can enforce an amicable atmosphere between the crews.

Your coworker comes in to complete the opening and leaves you to get ready in the staff room. Your outfit consists of a black mini skirt and a matching black top. You've already done your hair and makeup, and you know Shanks is going to have a hard time keeping his hands off of you until Buggy shows up.

As you walk back into the bar, your heels clack against the wood floor. You get a few whistles from Shanks' crew, and you're all but ambushed by the red-haired man himself, who basically corners you against the bar. His crew are no strangers to the affection between you and Shanks, so once they're done teasing their captain, they leave you be. Shanks wraps his arm around you, complimenting your outfit choice.

“Do you think you can behave yourself until Buggy gets here?” you ask as Shanks' hand cheekily slips beneath your skirt. You're suddenly reminded of Buggy doing the same thing to you with his hand. You roll your eyes at the similar tastes of your men.

“I don't know. You look good enough to eat”, Shanks growls, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek with an embarrassingly loud ‘muah’ noise that has your coworker fake gagging behind the bar. Shanks reluctantly lets you go and takes a seat at the bar. He watches you busy yourself with refilling his crew's drinks while you both wait for Buggy's arrival.

You don't have to wait long. About half an hour into your shift, the door swings open and Buggy storms in. He's by himself, meaning he probably saw Shanks through the window and sent his crew away. He's also red in the face - whether from embarrassment or rage is unclear.

“SHANKS” He yells, the top half of his body flying over to where Shanks is sitting while his legs run to catch up. Shanks looks up at Buggy fondly, and memories of your time together as a trio come flooding back as you observe them. Buggy screams something about Shanks embarrassing and betraying him, which Shanks merely laughs off. Buggy pauses mid-rant when his eyes land on you. “Hi y/n”

“Hi, Buggy,” you smile back, leaning over the bar to pull him into a kiss that clearly shocks him as it almost knocks his hat off. Shanks tilts his hat back onto his head and kisses Buggy's cheek, making him so flustered that you can practically see the steam radiating off him.

“Why don't we take our girl home and have a real conversation?” suggests Shanks. Buggy, unable to respond coherently, just nods, and Shanks tells you to get your stuff ready. You apologise to your coworker on the way out, who simply says she already knew this would happen. You and Shanks animatedly talk about the past while Buggy is uncharacteristically quiet, interjecting with his own point of view every so often. When you enter your house, you sit on the sofa, leaving your men to sit on either side of you.

“Why do we have to talk,” Buggy grumbles, tugging at the fabric of your skirt. “Why can't we just tear this off you, fuck you and then talk another time.”

“Because I don't want any problems between my favourite guys,” you say, batting your eyelashes at Buggy. Buggy gives in embarrassingly quickly, looking up at Shanks, who's bearing a similar expression to you. Buggy's heart squeezes as the feelings he's spent years suppressing rise to the surface.

“I'm not sure what I did to make you hate me,” says Shanks, but Buggy cuts him off.

“I don't hate you. I never hated you. I was willing to follow you through hell. We were supposed to find the one piece together, but then you changed your mind. I felt betrayed”

“I'm sorry, Buggy. I really am.” Shanks says, reaching across you to caress Buggy's cheeks. Buggy leans into the affection, making you smile warmly.

“Whatever. Can we get to the good stuff now? we'll handle all the emotions later.” Buggy says as his detached hand grazes Shanks’ crotch. “Besides, I think our princess wants some attention.” Shanks turns his attention to you, laughing at the pouty expression on your face. He is not done revelling in the fact that he finally has his two favourite people in front of him, so Shanks pulls Buggy in for a kiss that Buggy reciprocates with a quiet moan. They're clearly happy to have each other back, so while they kiss, you lean in and push Shanks's coat off his shoulders, pressing a kiss on his neck as you do so. When Shanks pulls away, he has a smear of lipstick around his mouth, making both Buggy and you laugh.

“You want some lipstick too, baby?” he asks, pulling you in for an enthusiastic kiss. Your teeth almost clash with how much force he puts into the kiss. It reminds you of how Buggy kisses you. It feels like he's overwhelmed and trying to pour some of his feelings onto you with his tongue, which he pushes into your mouth. You feel Buggy's mouth pressing against your neck as his hand plays with the front of your skirt. Buggy also lifts his head when you pull away from the steamy kiss. You can see how hard Shanks is, and you're sure Buggy is no different.

“There's more room on my bed than on here,” you say, starting to stand. Shanks also rises and lifts you over his shoulder. Buggy leads the way to your room, though Shanks is more than familiar with the layout of your house and lets one of his hands fly over to your ass. Your skirt isn't long enough to cover your whole ass in this position, so Buggy takes the opportunity to squeeze and grope your ass. You're thankful that Shanks is sturdy enough to be unphased by your squirming. Shanks drops you on the bed, leaving both of the men towering over you at the edge of the bed.

“There's still one thing that hasn't been addressed”, Says Shanks, twirling Buggy's hair around his finger. “Our insatiable girl has been fucking us for months behind each other's backs” You go to defend yourself and remind them that you were never exclusive with either of them, but Buggy's hands grab at you and pull you to sit up at the edge of your bed.

“You're right. I think she should have to answer for her actions. Any flashy punishments in mind?” Buggy asks. Shanks thinks it over for a second, picturing in his head all the positions both he and Buggy could put you in.

“You know how sensitive she is”, says Shanks and Buggy nods, more than familiar with how receptive you are to his touch. “I say we give her exactly what she wants; make her cum over and over again until her pretty body can't take anymore.” He says. It almost frustrates you how well they know you. Overstimulation is easy to achieve with you, and it's the perfect punishment that involves getting their dicks wet.

“I say one orgasm for every month she was hiding us from each other. When did you start seeing us, sweetheart?” Buggy asks, using his hand to keep your eyes on him. You know you can't lie. You started seeing Shanks first, and he's fully aware of how long he's had you back.

“Six months”, you say, your voice quiet. You're not even sure if you can handle that many orgasms, but you're willing to try. Both men start to strip as Buggy gruffly tells you to do the same. You're completely naked, and the two men are both in their underwear. Shanks instructs Buggy to sit up against the pillows on your bed. You do as you're told, as Shanks tells you to sit between Buggy's legs and back against his chest.

When you're in position, Shanks lies on his front, pulling you slightly down the bed so he can get a better angle to lick at your cunt. He shoves his tongue into your pussy, eating you out with vigour. He drags his tongue back up to your clit, lapping at it and then sucking at it. Your back arches away from Buggy as you cry out in pleasure. Buggy reaches up to play with your tits, adding to your stimulation. Shanks pushes two thick fingers into your pussy, as he all but makes out with it. Your fingers tangle in Shanks's beautiful red locks, similar to how he's tangled up in your heartstrings.

“Talk to us, pretty girl. Does that feel good?” Buggy asks, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth. You frantically nod, and Shanks's tongue sends shockwaves through your whole body.

“Feels amazing”

“You gonna cum?” he asks, and you nod again, gasping out a yes as you feel the familiar stirring in your stomach. “You hear that, Shanks? She's gonna cum”

Shanks waits until your moans start to shake and then pulls away, slipping his fingers out your soaked cunt and over your shoulder into Buggy's waiting mouth. Having your orgasm ripped out from under you has you crying out and writhing in Buggy's arms. Buggy's unbothered by your whining as he sucks your juices off of Shanks’ fingers. He moves his arms down to wrap around your waist. The sigh has Shanks palming himself through his underwear. Shanks looks down at you, heart softening as your eyes, wet with frustration, blink up at him. You're not being bratty today, something that surprises him. You're far too excited to have both lovers in one place to act up now.

“I said we'd give you six orgasms. I didn't say we'd give them to you easily,” says Shanks, making Buggy laugh in your ear at the way you groan. You should've known the punishment would go further. Shanks leans back down to finish his meal but stops short of actually pressing his mouth to you to tease his fingers at the entrance to your hole. You beg him to do something, eyes screwed shut in frustration. Both men coo at your desperation. “I would if only I had something a bit thicker to fill up this pretty pussy with,” he says, holding his hand out to Buggy, who grumbles something about Shanks being annoying. You can feel that Buggy’s hard cock is no longer pressing against your back, and when you open your eyes, it's in Shanks's hand. “Open that pretty mouth and stick out your tongue”, he orders.

When you open your mouth, Shanks spits onto your waiting tongue and lays Buggy's cock down on it. You hear Buggy hiss at the sensation of your tongue against his cock. Shanks spits over Buggy's cock, using his tongue to spread the saliva. You can't believe how turned on you are by this. You didn't even consider using his power in the bedroom like this. Buggy is whimpering in your ear; the sound only makes you wetter.

“Stop teasing. We're supposed to punish her, not me,” says Buggy. Shanks apologises and pulls away, instructing you to suck Buggy's cock. You obey, egged on by the praise Buggy throws at you. Shank's pulls Buggy's cock from your mouth and pushes it into your hole. Both you and Buggy moan. Shanks's eyes are fixed on where Buggy’s cock is stretching you out. He slowly starts to move, and Buggy's grip on you tightens.

“How does she feel, Bug?”

“Warm. So fucking tight,” Buggy moans. Shanks leans down to continue his earlier task of licking at your sensitive clit. This time he doesn't stop licking and sucking until you're sent over the edge. Buggy is close too but holds off the best he can while your pussy clenches around him. You moan their names as Shanks stays in position between your legs, licking you through your high. When he finally sits up on his knees, he pulls Buggy's throbbing cock from your pussy and holds it up to your lips.

“Be a good girl and finish him off”, Shanks says, whispering encouragement as you accept it into your mouth.

“Fuck, Shanks let go of it. Hold her head in place,” growls Buggy. Shanks listens, moving his hand to get a firm grip on your hair, holding you in place as Buggy starts to face fuck you. You can feel Buggy clinging to you, telling you how good your mouth feels. It doesn't take long for Buggy to cum down your throat, and you do your best to swallow the whole load. Some drips from your mouth, which Shanks is quick to clean up with his tongue. Buggy's cock goes back to his body while Shanks helps turn you over so that you're straddling Buggy. Buggy immediately pulls you into a messy kiss as Shanks sits back to appreciate the two of you.

“You're both so pretty” He coos.

“You red-haired idiot, don't say things like that”, Buggy whines, obviously flustered.

You let Shanks guide you to the middle of the bed and bend you over, shoving a pillow beneath your hips for comfort. You hear Shanks ask Buggy to hand over his belt; moments later, your hands are secured behind your back. Shanks, who's now removed his underwear, slides his hard cock between your folds. He teases your hole, pushing his tip in and then pulling away. He waits a second to take in your pretty noises before giving in to your whining and pushing his cock. He's been hard since he saw you at the beginning of your bar shift, so it's a miracle he doesn't cum as soon as he feels your pussy wrapped around his cock. He lets out a moan that has both you and Buggy drooling from how good it sounds. Shanks starts to thrust and tells Buggy to watch how well you take his cock.

Buggy, who's tying his hair out of the way, looks up at Shanks, who tells him how pretty he looks. Buggy hasn't adjusted to how sappy Shanks is and flushes completely red. Instead of answering, he just pulls Shanks into an aggressive kiss. You can hear the sounds of their kisses behind you, and the sound makes you gush around his cock.

“You feel so fucking good”, groans Shanks, reaching, running his hand down your back to grip your hair and pull you upward against his chest. Buggy moves on the bed and is now in front of you. He kisses you and reaches a hand down to rub your clit. You moan into Buggy's mouth as he speeds up his fingers. “You're squeezing me so hard,” says Shanks, heavy thrusts jolting you forward.

You cum as Shanks ruts into you, chasing his own high. Your cries of pleasure make it difficult to kiss you, so Buggy moves his mouth to the crook of your neck, cooing praises into your skin. You hear Shanks behind you moaning and cursing, dangerously close to the edge with the way your pussy walls clench around him. He cums with a shaky groan, filling you up with his cum. He relinquishes his grip on your hair, chuckling fondly as you slump forward against Buggy. Shanks massages the sore area with his hand, giving you a moment to breathe.

“How many orgasms have you had now, pretty girl?” asks Shanks.

“Two”, you say, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

“Good girl, make sure you don't lose count.” Shanks and Buggy both guide you to lie on your back, and Shanks tells Buggy to hold your legs open. Buggy does as he's told, holds your legs spread, and pushes up your chest. Shanks grabs hold of Buggy's hair and pushes him down between your legs. “Clean her up for me.”

Buggy nods as he sticks his tongue inside of your cum filled Buggy. Shanks watches as Buggy eats Shanks's cum out of you. Buggy is eager to please as he licks at your cunt. It took him a while to get the hang of eating you out when you first started hooking up, but now he has an understanding of your body that no one else has. He works you over with his tongue, your post-orgasm sensitivity pushing you to the edge quickly. If you're this sensitive already, you dread to think how you'll feel after the next few orgasms you've been promised. Shanks looks from Buggy's face to yours and immediately recognises how close you are. He tells Buggy you're near and to make you cum now. Buggy pays extra attention to your clit as you attempt to buck up into his face. He holds you down as his tongue sends you over the edge and straight into an orgasm.

You writhe as you cum, drenching Buggy's face. Buggy remains unmoved, tongue still working at you even when you start to come down again. In fact, Buggy doesn't let up at all when your third orgasm quells; he pushes two fingers into you, ready to send you into a fourth orgasm. You're ascending from one plane of existence to the next as Buggy has the next orgasm building so quickly after your last. Every nerve in your body tingles and an odd feeling settles in your lower stomach.

Shanks looks on in awe; watching his two fated mates so animalistic has him too enamoured to even worry about his hardening cock. He's sure the way you're crying out for them is disturbing your neighbours, but he doesn't have it in him to care. Shanks watches as Buggy adds another finger. The pleasure is so intense that you shift up the bed, instinctively searching for something other than the sheets to grip. Shanks moves his hand from Buggy's hair to your face, caressing your cheek and running his thumb over your lips.

“Don't run from it, princess. Let Buggy make you cum” he says, voice soft. As if on cue, you're launched into another mind-blowing orgasm. It takes a second to register that you're gushing all over Buggy's face because Buggy seems completely unbothered by it, continuing to work you through your high and prolong your orgasm. Your body feels momentarily numb as you arch off the bed, shaking as you soak the sheets beneath you. Buggy finally relents, shifting back onto his knees, wiping his face with the back of his hand and messing up his makeup. You notice the way his face, neck and torso are dripping with your juices. You feel panic rise at the fact you've just squirted everywhere, but Shanks immediately stomps it back down by pulling you into a kiss.

Once you're rolled into a spot where you're not lying in a pool of cum, you get a glance of yourself in the mirror and almost recoil in shock. Your hair is messy, and your face is covered in smudged and transferred makeup. Your body is littered with remnants of lipstick and hickeys. When you look up at Shanks and Buggy, who look equally roughed up, they're staring at you with fondness in their eyes. You can't believe the men above you are looking at you with such hunger when you look this much of a mess.

“You're so beautiful,” says Shanks. Buggy's lipstick transferred onto your face almost makes it look like you have messy clown makeup on, and it causes a stir in Shanks’ crotch that he takes note of for future reference - maybe he’ll ask you to dig in Buggy’s makeup bag. Buggy is kneeling next to him, leaning on his shoulder to catch his breath. Most of his makeup is gone, having been transferred onto you and Shanks, but he still looks radiant to you. He has a smile settled on his face, a soft, content smile you don't see often from him. It makes your stomach warm to know you have this level of connection with two people. “Do you want to stop? We can stop if it's too much. Four orgasms is alot,” says Shanks, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he observes your ragged breathing. You frantically shake your head, immediately having an answer for him.

“I don't wanna stop,” you whine. You might be sensitive, but you crave as much of them as you can get. “Please. I want more,” you beg. You move your exhausted body to kneel in front of Shanks and push him down to lie on his back. Shanks easily does what you want him to, lying back but using his elbow to hold himself up and watch you.

You crawl on top of Shanks, straddling his hips and stare down his torso, examining the canvas on which you and Buggy have made art; bright red lipstick and shiny lip gloss cover his neck and chest. You don't waste any more time, grabbing ahold of his hard cock and guiding it to your hole so you can sink down on it. You feel Buggy's presence behind you and pull him closer to you so he can help guide you down. Buggy tells you to bend forward so he can join in. He grabs a bottle of lube from the night side table, spreads it over his fingers and pushes two against the tight rim of your hole. You gasp and clench around Shanks, who groans but is careful not to jolt you. Buggy works you open with his fingers until you've had enough and beg him to fuck you properly.

“Please put it in. I can take it. I need it so bad,” you beg, knowing Buggy would give it to you anyway. Shanks laughs from beneath you.

“Weren't you all fucked out from four orgasms like ten minutes ago?” He asks, amused by your sudden eagerness. “I didn't know you had crazy stamina,” he comments. Neither did you. Buggy pulls his fingers out of you and lines his cock up with your ass hole. His hands grip your hips, a steady presence as he pushes inside you.

You let out a strangled moan as they're both bottomed out inside of you; you've never been this full before. The three of you take a second to breathe, and in the silence, it hits you: you're physically connected to the two people you love most. You've always been theirs, always connected with them beyond romance, and always believed that your very livelihoods are intertwined. You're overcome with a feeling of genuine love.

“Please move. I need you so bad,” you whimper. Your heightened emotions have tears building in your eyes that don't go unnoticed by Shanks, who looks over your shoulder at Buggy and signals him to start moving. Both men begin to thrust, and it feels so good you find yourself clawing at Shanks’ chest. Shanks’ cock twitches inside you at the thought of the marks that will be left behind. The feeling of both men filling you up quickly overwhelms you, and the tears spill down your cheeks.

“Oh, pretty girl, you're crying for us. Does it feel that good?” coos Shanks. He reaches his hand up to wipe at the tears. Buggy’s lips trail your shoulder blades as he whispers praises into your skin. Your legs start to shake, and you can barely support yourself. You're about to cum again, and both men can feel it.

“You feel so good, sweetheart. Your ass feels amazing,” moans Buggy. “Cum for us. I know you want to,” he says, hand reaching around to rub your clit. Your hand intertwines with Shanks’, and you pin it down to the bed by his head, squeezing his palm as you approach your orgasm. Shanks tries the best he can to fuck up into you harder, planting his feet on the bed for leverage.

Your orgasm is intense, and you sob about how good it feels as you lose your balance and slump forward to bury your face in Shanks’ neck. Shanks and Buggy continue their movements, chasing their orgasms. You barely have time to recover before you cum again, holes spasming around your men. Your vision goes white, your body goes numb, and you gush all over Shanks’ torso. Buggy is next to follow, teeth sinking into your skin as he fills you up. Then Shanks cums with a pretty moan before stilling inside you. You all stay in this position; naked, connected and in a sticky mess of cum and sweat. You're on the verge of passing out, so Buggy is uncharacteristically gentle as he pulls out, shushing you when you whine at the feeling. Buggy helps Shanks lift you off of him, and then the pair of them get you over to the guest bed so Buggy can clean you up. Shanks strips your bed and prepares your sheets for cleaning first thing in the morning. Buggy finishes cleaning up the mess of cum between your legs and over your hips and starts to wipe at your makeup that was ruined by his own cosmetics. Shanks returns to the guest bedroom and leans against the doorframe to watch the intimate moment between you and Buggy. A smile settles on his lips as he watches Buggy steal a kiss while wiping your makeup off.

“Ready for bed, you two?” he asks as Buggy throws away the wipes. Your bed is only a double, so the sleeping arrangement ends up being you fully on top of Shanks, resting your head on his chest. Buggy tucks himself into Shanks’ side and rests an arm over you.

“Love you,” you mumble as you drift off. Buggy doesn't respond, as he is too flustered. Instead, he kisses your temple and lies back down to you in slumber.

“I love you too, baby. I love both of you,” says Shanks before closing his eyes.

✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You wake up with your whole body feeling sore and drained of energy. You're noticeably alone, but you can hear the hushed voices of your lovers. You roll over to see them standing by the window, engrossed in conversation. Shanks is tucking Buggy's hair behind his ear, and Buggy looks like he’s been crying. You can’t see Shanks’ face, but imagine his expression must be similar.

“What are you guys talking about?” you ask, sitting up. Both men turn to you, looking startled. They hadn’t expected you to be awake yet. Buggy quickly wipes his tears, and Shanks wanders to the bed, sitting beside you.

“We were just clearing the air. You know that a lot happened between us, and Buggy and I were just working out our share of issues so that we could move forward with each other,” he says, leaning in to kiss your forehead and lips. Buggy hasn’t moved from his place by the window. “How are you feeling?” he asks, voice soft and deep.

“I’m okay. I feel sore, though,” you say, pouting at the two men who are the cause of your physical exhaustion. They both smirk at your pouty face, knowing damn well that you had asked them to wreck you.

“That's cute, baby. I didn’t mean that, though. I meant, how do you feel about our relationship?” Shanks clarifies. He calls Buggy to come and sit down with the two of you.

“I want to be official - no matter what happens, I'll always be yours - but how will it work? If you’re working towards being king of the pirates, you can't keep coming back here, or you’ll make no progress,” you say. Shanks nods, looking towards Buggy. The sombre atmosphere lifts as a smile splits across both of their faces.

“We spoke a bit about that earlier. It won’t be safe for you to stay here. If info about you gets out and other pirates try to go after you, you need to be somewhere we can protect you. So we think it would be good for you to come with one of us.” Buggy says, pausing to gauge your reaction. It’s been a long time since you’ve been on a pirate ship, but you have always been pretty good with a sword. Part of you feels nostalgic about being aboard a pirate ship again. Buggy and Shanks are both emperors so no matter who you went with, you'd be safer.

“If I do go with one of you, then what about the other?” you ask, not wanting anyone to be offended that you didn't pick them.

“Then we’ll keep in touch via den den mushi and letters. I'm sure we’ll also cross paths on some islands,” says Shanks.

“It’s been a long time since I've been part of a pirate crew, but I think I can go back if it means being with you”, you say, finally wearing a smile to match those of the men sitting next to you.

You still have a few days to think over and choose who you go with, so for now, you hold out your hands and insist one of them, who ends up being Buggy, carries you to your bathroom so that you can shower together. Shanks stares at you both with hearts in his eyes, and Buggy whisks you off to the shower.

“C’mon, red-haired, our girl needs us”, he calls from the bathroom, and Shanks appears in the doorframe moments later to see you seated on the counter while Buggy turns on the shower. You’re still naked, having not been clothed after last night, and Shanks walks over to you to stand between your legs. He leans in to press little kisses all over your skin, which you interrupt by pulling him up for a kiss.

“You two better behave in the shower, or I'll kick you out”, you say, gently scolding them for all the work they put your body through the night before. You glare at both of them, and Buggy rolls his eyes, pushing back the shower curtain so Shanks can lift you and place you under the water. Both men join you and are delicate as they wash you. They don't apologise for any marks left on you; they're pretty proud of them, but they leave little kisses on them as a thank you for bringing them back together. You had previously thought you’d been fated to a life behind that bar until the universe got your boys back to you. This feels right; it feels comfortable, and you believe in soulmates more and more as every moment passes.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thanks for reading!!! reblogs/comments are much appreciated! ♡

tag list: @bloodfixnd

pls drop a dm or ask to be added to the taglist (if you to be tagged in one specific character list just let me know!)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[the-obnoxious-sibling]

“Even if I could bear it, we’ve always wanted different things as pirates, we wouldn’t work well together.  So what do you want here?  What are you trying to get?” Shanks smiled, a slightly sad edge to it, and lifted Buggy’s hand to his lips.  He pressed an insistent kiss to the back of the hand, like he was a prince out of some fairy story.  “Time with you, Buggy.  That’s all I dared hope for.”

another moment i 100% wrote to bait @midydoof into drawing it, another time it totally backfired on me because i cannot help but swoon every time i look at this. just, mentally i am here: 🥰🥰🥰

for any new readers: this is part six of eight of the long, post-marineford part of this shanks/buggy series! this part is about fifty-six hundred words, and sees buggy finally stop overthinking things and just kiss the guy already.

[thus-spoke-lo]

Between What Was and What Will Be // stepdad!Shanks x fem!reader NSFW/18+ [minors DNI] // Read on AO3 // WC: 7.4k

A/N: Modern AU. Written for @killsaki's Family Ties Collab

CW: dead dove, do not eat--please heed content warnings; dark content; stepcest; age gap (reader is 26-27 and Shanks is mid-40's); minor character death (reader's mother); reader refers to Shanks as "dad," not "daddy"; themes of angst, unresolved grief, mourning, and co-dependency; alcohol; some dub-con elements; non-consensual voyeurism; masturbation (m and f); vaginal fingering; oral sex (f receiving); protected vaginal intercourse

Synopsis: Shanks was the raft that kept you afloat during your teenaged and young adult years, helping you navigate the unsteady waters of your family dynamic. When he's all you have left, changing tides push you apart and a distance grows between, until an impulsive decision to return home for a long weekend forces you to confront uncomfortable truths.

Monday, 11:24 A.M.

When are you going to come visit?

The text had been waiting there unanswered for days, sitting on your chest and slowly crushing you with every passing hour that you let it linger.

It had been nearly six months since the funeral, where you’d stood next to Shanks and held his hand while the world seemed to crumble away around you. She was your mother, but it felt like it was in name only; you were an accomplishment checked off a list of things to do by the time she turned thirty, an accessory she loved to flaunt and then tuck away until the next time she needed her ego stroked. You were fed, clothed, dropped at the bus stop every morning before she went to work and parked in front of the television at night to babysit you until bedtime; you never allowed yourself to believe you suffered any great injustices, other than the fact you felt alone and adrift while you watched her ship sail past you again and again.

She brought Shanks home when you were just fifteen, married him and moved him in less than a year later, and for the first time it felt like you’d found a piece of driftwood to keep you afloat in the choppy water. He had nothing but smiles for you every morning, only laughs and kind words at night when he’d squeeze you tightly before you headed off to bed. He was Dad, just Dad, in the early light of day when he’d kiss your forehead and hand you your backpack on the way out the door, Shanks when he dared challenge your teenage moodiness—which he rarely attempted, leaving you to have your fits until you were ready to throw your arms around him again and ask if he’d take you to the shore over the weekend so you could sit on the dock and read your textbooks in the sun while he fished.

He’d been good to you—taught you to drive, dropped you off at college, had warmth waiting for you when you’d come back for the summers, and a hug that felt like an invitation to return home when you’d have to leave again. When you’d graduated and moved for work, he almost seemed to mourn you, despite it being just an hour away by car and despite your repeated promises that you’d come home as often as you could. In contrast, your mother had only a forced smile and a flat “good luck” to offer you—you were of no use to her now that you had nothing immediate left to accomplish, nothing she could live vicariously through, and your presence felt immaterial. But not to Shanks—to him, you mattered, always.

He’d been good to you, and despite it all, it had been nearly six months since you’d seen him. And now you sit at your desk, the hum of the office washing over you, the subtle ping of another email alert making your skin crawl, and you stare at the text, thumbs hovering above the screen as the cursor blinks, trying to think of what to say. You finally manage something, something you almost regret, and send it before you can back down: How about this weekend?

The answer comes almost immediately, and it makes your heart race. Really?

Really. You want to say more, but that’s all you can muster as you start to wish you hadn’t answered at all.

Oh that’s great, honey. Let me know details when you can.

The clacking of the keyboard echoes in your ears as you type up an email to your boss, and you find yourself smiling in a way you hadn’t smiled in months.

It unnerves you to your core.

—————

Thursday, 7:18 P.M.

Shanks stands on the front porch, the late summer sun still clinging to the clouds, casting him in dusky peaches and tangerines. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his cargo pants, and a smile settles on his lips when he sees you for the first time.

“Hey kiddo,” he says, a quiet uncertainty laced through each syllable. He runs a hand through his crimson hair, pieces falling softly against his jaw.

“Hey there.” Heat rises in your cheeks, nervousness pulsing in your veins, and a sudden feeling of exhaustion perches on your shoulders as you shuffle up the sidewalk.

“How was traffic?”

You shrug, and drop your duffle bag to the ground. “Didn’t take long. It’s easier once you’re out of the city.”

He hesitantly walks down the three steps from the porch to where you stand, and places his hands on your shoulders. He studies you for a moment, the corners of his mouth raising and lowering as he sees the worry settled in every soft contour of your face.

“God, it’s just so good to see you,” he says, just above a whisper. “You look good, honey.”

“So do you, Shanks.” You can’t bring yourself to call him anything other than his name; it tastes wrong the way it sits on your tongue, but dad sounds distorted to your ears these days.

The lines at the corners of his eyes crinkle as he grins, and he suddenly grabs you, holds you tight to him, like you’ll slip away if he lets you go. Your body stiffens at the sensation, and he seems to take notice, releasing you from his grasp and taking a step back. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and glances at the pavement. “Sorry, why don’t we head inside? I’m sure you’d like to sit down.”

The house has been painted—a soft sage color that contrasts with the new, mahogany-brown leather couch that sits in the center of the room. Like the chair Shanks had in the corner of the spare room that he used as an office—the one you used to sit in while you’d watch him fix his fishing lures, pretending to do your homework but instead watching his thick fingers delicately wrap string around colorful feathers, his brow furrowed, a piece of wire held between his lips.

The kitchen smells of coffee, smoky and bitter; Shanks smells of musk, and spice, and the salt of the ocean, just like always. You sit over steaming cups too hot to drink just yet, your hands wrapping around the mug you made in ceramics class, and carry on like you’d never left home, never stopped making the hour-long drive from your apartment to this house most weekends after you’d moved to the city.  

It was as if that night had never happened.

You’d gotten back from the funeral, taken off those god-awful dress shoes you hated, walked barefoot into the kitchen and slumped down at the table. You and Shanks sat in the dim golden glow of the overhead lamp, each with a too-full whiskey glass in your hands with the bottle positioned between you. It was the first time you had more than a moment of quiet all day—you were raw from people hugging you, crying into your shoulder, telling you how sorry they were like they thought it would do you any good. They needed you to cry, to be upset, to show some sort of sorrow over her—but instead you smiled politely and thanked them, shook their hands and rubbed their backs, let them tell you stories about a version of your mother you never had the privilege of knowing.

“It would have been ten years,” Shanks finally sighed, tilting his cup back and forth. “Ten years next Tuesday.”

“I know.” You stuck your finger in your glass, poking at the crumbling corner of an ice cube, then raised your fingertips to your lips, licking off the liquid that clung to your skin.

He downed the rest of his drink, drops of amber landing on his tongue, and snorted a laugh. “God, she fuckin’ hated anniversaries.”

“Birthdays, too.” Most especially your birthday, an inconvenient reminder of her own mortality.

Shanks placed his hand on yours, stroked you with his calloused thumb while he stared at the tablecloth, counting fibers to avoid your gaze. His touch was tender, needy, like he was trying to extract love from you with every graze of your flesh, absorb it into his skin. He leaned closer, stopping just inches from your face with his lips parted, as if to tell you something—but words never came and instead, he exhaled softly before pressing his mouth to yours. A hand slid to the back of your neck to keep you still, as he kissed you delicately, whiskey still fresh on his lips, bitter vapors in his mouth. It was the alcohol that kept you from stopping him, you told yourself as you let him take what he needed from you—it was the alcohol, and it was because you pitied him, and it was because you were lost and grieving. You uttered not a word as he eventually pulled away, and you pushed your chair back and stood, squeezing his shoulder as you passed and headed upstairs to your old room.

As you laid in bed that night, staring at the creased and faded posters on the ceiling, you gripped the sheets and cried for the first time all day. The tears were not for her—never for her—but because you knew that moment at the table wasn’t about pity, it wasn’t about loss, it wasn't about anything in between. It was because you wanted it—you wanted him. You wanted him to comfort you, and you wanted him to love you, and the way he seemed to smell it on you made your stomach churn and acid creep up your throat. You tore yourself from the mattress and headed into the bathroom to sit on the floor of the shower and try to burn away any trace of him with the hottest water you could stand. The sound of water rushing around you, thick droplets splashing every surface, was enough to overwhelm your wandering thoughts—and enough to drown out the sound of Shanks softly knocking on your door, pleading with you to let him in while he muttered slurred apologies against the wood grain.

You quickly packed and hurried to your car while he slept passed out on the living room floor, an empty bottle tipped over nearby, and drove back to your apartment in the city to bury yourself in bed and drink until you were good and numb. The morning came far too soon, the sun urging you awake to ruminate amongst the twisted blankets and sweat-drenched sheets. You fumbled for the phone that was hidden under the crumpled linens, seeing a string of missed calls, and just one text: Please talk to me.

You fought the urge to walk out onto your balcony and chuck the phone into the street, just to watch it shatter. Instead, you paced your living room as you called that one friend—the one who was always a little too nice to you, who brought you homemade lunches and hung on your every word, who followed you like a lost dog trying to find his way home—and told him you were lonely, that you needed him. Soon, he was in your bed, soft fingers digging into your hips, even softer lips pressed to your back, telling you how beautiful you looked in the morning light. He held you afterwards as you cried into the crook of his shoulder, and he soothed you, told you the mourning would end eventually, that all would one day pass.

He knew nothing of the grief that lodged in your chest—the anguish of wanting what wasn’t yours to take.

—————

Friday, 8:01 A.M.

“You’re up early.”

Shanks grins at you from the kitchen table, a newspaper spread out in front of him, bits of string and wire and metal scattered across the sports page. A clear plastic bin of feathers sits to one side, and something in you wants to overturn them in the air, just to watch them scatter and float.

“Am I?” You shuffle past him and squeeze his shoulder on your way to the coffee-maker. “This is sleeping in for me.”

“You’re on vacation, I figured you might want to catch up on some rest.”

You shrug and lean against the counter. “I have other weekends for that.”

In truth, since you’d last been home, sleep (or a state close to it) was what consumed much of your free time. You’d put in an appearance at a brunch, or smile through another tedious first date, then return home to listen to the comforting hum of a show you’d already watched. Lying on your couch, you’d swipe through profiles that seemed to promise you more disappointing first meetings and awkward conversations over burnt coffee or overpriced drinks, until you’d lose yourself in a haze of melancholy until bedtime.

Shanks stands and sidles up to you, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulder, pulling you into the softness of his shirt. “How about I make pancakes?”

“That sounds amazing.” You lean into his chest, containing a sigh at how much you missed this feeling—of safety, and warmth, and a sweetness you could drown in.

You sit at the table and watch him move through the kitchen, listening to his stories about clients and work friends, people whose names were engraved in your mind. The kitchen soon smells of vanilla and nutmeg, and the richness of butter, and the cloying sweetness of store-brand syrup. It reminds you of mornings not long after he’d moved in; suddenly, old friends—ones who’d long drifted away from you as high-school began to wane and adulthood appeared over the horizon—wanted to come over and gawk and giggle at your handsome new step-dad, whispering to each other about how his biceps flexed under his thin white t-shirts, and his chest hair peeked out over the collar. He seemed to know how to handle their kind, and would give them a chaste wink and a smile when they’d ask to stay for breakfast after impromptu sleepovers; he’d tell bad jokes and make French toast for a table of whispering, tittering teenagers while you silently seethed at the feeling of being used.

As you watch him now, flipping pancakes onto chipped plates with a flourish, trying to find any way he could to make you laugh, you grow heated as you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him, how he’s only gotten more handsome as he’s gotten older. You admire the way the muscled plane of his back stretches the grey cotton t-shirt, how the veins and tendons of his large hands move and flex under his tanned skin, how his red hair frames his face and his wide smile still feels like it’s meant only for you.

He places a plate in front of you and kisses the crown of your head, grabbing your coffee cup to get you a refill while he hums to himself, some silly little seafaring song he claimed his father taught him. Your hands settle in your lap, and your stomach turns while you watch a pat of butter slip off the pancake onto the plate, and it starts to dissipate into the puddle of warm syrup. It wasn’t a feeling of being used that made you fume all those years ago while your friends blushed and bit their lips at Shanks while he politely indulged their affections—it was jealousy.

—————

Friday, 9:31 P.M.

“So, how’s your dad holding up?”

“Shanks is fine,” you correct her as you sigh into your wine glass. You watch your friend check her phone again—the babysitter needs to know where the fruit snacks are, she says distractedly.

“Ugh, that poor man, all alone,” she pouts as she downs the last of her chardonnay. “You let him know if he needs anything—anything at all—that I’m only a call away. Well, we’re only a call away.”

You smirk at the way she catches herself, as if one mention of Shanks and, for a moment, she hadn’t been married for the last five years. She had sniffed out that you were in town for the weekend and suggested you catch up, and the last few hours were spent sipping overpriced cheap wine and watching her nibble on a salad, nodding and smiling through polite conversation until your face starts to hurt. You finally interject, saying you need to get home and check in with work before long, and so you hug and say your goodbyes and promise to get together soon, each of you knowing full well it’s a lie.

The door is unlocked when you get back, as if he was waiting for you to come home—just like the nights you’d sneak out to see your friends and drink in the woods behind the school, and he’d leave the door cracked so your keys wouldn’t jangle and your mother wouldn’t wake. He never said a word when you’d come downstairs for school still stinking of cheap vodka, only hand you a thermos of coffee and a bottle of water, whispering after you to take a shower before class; he was your accomplice, a delinquent teenager’s dream. As time went on, you started to find it less interesting to take late-night drives with older boys and have to cram for school in the morning when you could simply come home instead, and Shanks would cook you dinner and help you study for your chemistry final while your mother left for another social gathering, leaving the two of you to your devices. Disobedience became infinitely less attractive as a means of combating the loneliness that lived within you when you could spend your time with someone who seemed to want you there.

You walk upstairs, avoiding the steps that creak, the placement of each one still burned into your synapses from innumerable nights of trying to slip in unnoticed. As you place your hand on your doorknob, you hear something, noises that are utterly unmistakable, coming from Shanks’ bedroom across the hall: quiet moans and grunts slipping out from under the door, accompanied by the slick sounds of skin on skin.

Blood drains from your limbs and you stop, holding your breath, trying not to make even the smallest sound as you approach; it’s only to make sure you’re hearing right, you tell yourself, not for any other reason. Your back is pressed to the wall beside his door, shivering gasps passing through your lips as you hear him groan again—some part of you always wondered what it would sound like, how he’d groan and growl if he had you under him. A sudden ache builds in your core despite the way your stomach flips as you stand there, listening to him pant, hearing the creaks of his bedframe and you wonder how he does it—if he bucks his hips and thrusts into his hand, or if he lavishes himself with long strokes instead—and you start to lose yourself in your vile fantasies.

It’s wrong, it’s fucking wrong, but your hand lowers to the front of your jeans, two fingers pressing the firm seam into your clit, and you stifle a whimper as you throb. And then you hear it—your name. Your name, clear as day, mixed with a long, low groan. Your fingers move faster, pressing against your heat, your knees weakening as you hear him grow louder; His breath gets harsher, your name still escaping him in between an occasional curse, his pace quickening. The bed creaks more, and Shanks lets out a long growl, followed by a strangled sigh. Your hand flies up to your mouth as your own climax takes you, and you pulse under your fingers as you try to keep yourself still and silent. The bed creaks again, and you quickly head back down the stairs, avoiding the troublesome steps you know, but suddenly discovering that a new one has developed a whiny squeak.

“Honey?” Shanks shouts from upstairs, a hint of panic in his tone. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, just got in!” you shout back as you freeze in place.

You hear rustling and heavy footfalls down the hallway; Shanks comes to stand at the top of the stairs, his face flushed and pupils still blown, perspiration glistening at his temples.

“You’re back early,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest to hide how it rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“Oh, yeah.” You slowly climb a couple more stairs, your back sliding against the wall. “Things sort of fizzled out, so I figured I’d just come home.”

“Well, ah—do you maybe want to watch some TV or something?” He swallows thickly and glances at the floor. “I could make some tea, if you want.”

“I don’t think so. I have some work I should catch up on.”

“On a Friday night?”

“Yeah, even on a Friday night.” You slip past him and can smell it on him still, desire mixed with sweat, and it makes your nerves tingle.

“Well, I’ll be up for a little while if you change your mind, sweetheart,” he says as he starts down the stairs, glancing back up at you for a moment. There was something close to guilt written in the lines around his mouth as he gave you a tight-lipped smile and nodded before heading down to the living room.

It takes everything you have not to follow him, if for no other reason than being with him in strained silence, holding your perverted secret tightly in your chest, would feel better than being alone.

—————

Saturday, 6:18 P.M.

“So, whatever happened to that guy you were seeing? The big guy, the one with the earrings?”

You shrug, swallowing the cheap chardonnay that you’d found in the back of the fridge, the ghost of your mother haunting you still. “Didn’t work out. We broke up, like, a week before I came here for—well, the last time I was here.”

“Hm. That’s too bad.” Shanks raises his eyebrows as he sips his whiskey. “He seemed nice.”

“Yeah, well, he was. But nice isn’t always everything.” You sigh and chug the rest of the wine, setting the cup on the table beside you. “Dating is fucking hard.”

He leans forwards to gesture at you with his glass, and the ice clinks as it knocks against the sides. “See, what you need to do is find yourself an older man.”

“An older man?” you grin, raising an eyebrow at the suggestion, your heart thrumming as you pondered his intent. “What, you mean like Benn? I haven’t seen him in a while, is he still single?”

“What?” Shanks looks at you aghast before he dissolves into rich and robust laughter. “No! God, no. No, I don’t mean like Benn, he’s not good enough for you.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“Just—just someone older.” He glances down at his liquor. “An older man would know how to treat you right.”

You roll your eyes at him, and feel a tightening in your chest. “Do tell.”

He leans down and grabs the bottle of alcohol that sits at his feet, pouring himself another glass. “See honey, men your age, they—well, they don’t know what they want.”

“I mean, I’d say they certainly do know what they want,” you chuckle, raising your eyebrows. “It just doesn’t seem to align with what I want most of the time.”

“And what is it that you want?” Shanks shifts in his seat, moving just a little closer to you on the couch. “You’re not interested in one-night stands?”

You swallow and clear your throat as his knee brushes yours. “Not really. I mean, I am. Sometimes.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Just to, you know. Chase off the lonely nights.”

“So what is it that you do want?”

“I don’t know. Something stable. Something that feels…permanent.” You fiddle with your shirtsleeve and feel heat spreading in your cheeks—perhaps the result of too many glasses of boxed wine, perhaps the result of having Shanks interrogating you, his muscular body encroaching on your space. “Not like, marriage. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

“No? Not for you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Marriage never seemed something that was meant for you, not after you watched your mother cycle through husband after husband, until she landed on Shanks. You feared you were doomed to the same fate, chasing after satisfaction and validation from people who were kind enough, handsome enough, smart enough, but never exactly what you were looking for.

You inhale deeply and glance up at Shanks. His one arm stretches over the back of the couch, fingers dangling off the cushion near your shoulder, his other hand brings his glass to his lips. He half-smiles at you, his dark eyes seeming to study your face.

“What are you staring at?” you ask, a tension starting to build within you, something twisting deep inside, coiling up like piano wire wound too tight.

He sighs and blinks slowly at you, peering at you through half-lidded eyes, while his fingers brush your upper arm. “You’re just so damned pretty, you know.”

You force a smile, waiting to hear the same words everyone always tells you, even if you can’t see it yourself when you look in the mirror. “It’s ‘cause I look like her, isn’t it?”

“No.” He raises his hand to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with the rough pad of his thumb as his eyes settle on yours, holding your gaze. “I don’t think you look like her at all.”

His words feel like an invitation you can’t bear to decline, and before you can give it any more thought, you lean forward, pressing your mouth to his, hearing him sharply inhale at your gesture. His kiss tastes like it did that night—like whiskey, and warmth, and a fraught need for love. He doesn’t stop you, only sits still for a moment as you take what you need from him, his hand still pressed gently to the side of your face.

“Fuck,” he sighs into your mouth, and his tongue slips between your lips, entwining with yours with a bittersweet fervor. His whiskey glass drops to the carpet with a thud, the ice clinking as the remaining liquid spills out. You swing your leg over his lap and straddle his hips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders; his one hand slides to the back of your neck, holding you firmly against him as he claims your mouth again and again. Soon, the filthy secret that you had tucked away in your chest starts to claw at you from the inside, even as heat floods your lower body and you feel the weight of his interest start to press up into you.

“Wait. I need to tell you something.” The words are stilted, caught in a whimper as Shanks lets go of your lips and begins to lick and suck at the sensitive skin of your neck.

“What’s that?” he murmurs against you, his hands lowering to cup the swell of your ass.

“I heard you.”

He stops for a moment and warm, harsh breaths spread across your skin. “What do you mean, kiddo?”

“Last night.” You lean back so you can look at him, shaking hands gripping his shoulders to steady yourself. “I came home early from seeing my friend, and I—I heard you. I heard you saying my name.”

A moment passes as he stares at you, his already-flushed cheeks burning hotter, his breath quickening. “And?”

“And what?”

“What did you do when you heard me?”

You swallow hard, your mouth opening and closing as you try to find the words, but nothing manifests. He already knows—he has to.

“You listened, didn’t you?” he says with a wry grin, his words beginning to slur as he nips at your jaw.

“No!” You climb off his lap and back away from the couch, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “That’s disgusting!”

“Is it?” He stands and walks towards you slowly, stumbling a little as he reaches you. He looms over you, a lascivious grin starting to form on his lips. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“Shanks, stop it.” You can feel the heat coming off him, and you can smell the alcohol drifting in the air—if you’re tipsy, he’s intoxicated.

“What?” He leans and runs his tongue over the shell of your ear. “If I’m disgusting for thinking about you like that, aren’t you just as dirty for wanting to hear it?”

“I think you’re drunk.”

He slides a hand up the inside of your thigh and holds his palm against your heat. “And I think you’re wet.”

A shiver runs down your spine and you grip his biceps for stability, a low whine leaving your lungs as he starts to press up into you. You need this—you need him. You need the way he needs you, and how he makes it feel like you’re not broken and alone, and how he loves you like you’re all that matters to him in this world.

“Goddamit, we can’t do this.” You wrench yourself away from him and take a few steps back, feeling the tears starting to burn in the corners of your eyes. “Not again. Not like this.”

“Fuck.” He sways where he stands, his mouth hanging open as he sees you start to fold in on yourself. It’s clear he wants to pull you to him, to hold you to his chest and cradle your head while you cry, but all it will do is compound the hurt he’s already caused. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“Me too.”

Without another word between you, you walk up the stairs to your room and shut yourself inside, and start to pack, readying yourself for the drive home tomorrow.

Maybe you’d say goodbye this time.

—————

Sunday, 9:34 A.M.

The clang of pots and pans had startled you awake, the smell of coffee drifting in under the door. He was trying to lure you downstairs with breakfast, something he’d do when you were particularly quarrelsome or in the midst of some silent stand-off with your mother. But it wouldn’t be enough today, and you sat on the end of your bed, drafting an email to your boss that you’d need tomorrow off; you didn’t think that you could stand having to smile to strangers on the elevator and field well-intentioned questions about your weekend without wanting to scream. You send off your message, and stiffen at the sound of a knock on your door.

“Can I come in?” Shanks mutters from the other side.

You consider saying no, if only for a moment, of waiting until he leaves so you can gather your things and sneak down the stairs to your car unnoticed. But it hurts—it hurts to imagine leaving without a goodbye, without at least one last embrace to remind you that you would never fully be alone, so long as you had him.

“Sure, yeah, come in,” you mumble, tossing your phone behind you and sitting back on the heels of your palms.

He pushes the door open, leaning against it as he forces a smile. “No breakfast today?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You shouldn’t drive home on an empty stomach.” He hesitantly approaches you, resting his hand on your shoulder. “Come down and eat something with me. I can make something else if you don’t want French toast. Or at least have some coffee.”

You close your eyes at the welcome weight of his hand, and you lean your head against his arm, soft hairs bristling against your cheek. “Maybe.”

Shanks sits beside you on the end of the bed, his hand coming to rest next to yours, almost touching but not quite.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For everything.”

“Me too.”

“Oh sweetheart, no—you don’t need to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He envelops you in a tight embrace, pulling you against him, cradling your head to his chest until you can hear his heart racing under you. “And you never, ever did.”

The tears come quickly, leaving blooming wet spots on his shirt, and you shiver as your arms wrap around his torso. He’s everything you crave, everything you know that you deserve—yet, he’s everything you know you can’t ever claim as yours. Still, you want him anyway, even if only for right now.

“Dad, I—I need you.”

“How?” He pulls you away from his chest, grasps your face with a hand on either side and meets your gaze, holding it. “How do you need me?”

A sob hitches in your throat as you shake your head slowly, and your voice cracks as you force the words out: “Like I shouldn’t.”

“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” He drops to his knees in front of you, pressing his fingers into your cheeks while he looks you over, as if to find the source of your pain. “If you need me—then I’ll make it all better, okay?”

You nod, swallowing back a hiccup. “Okay.”

“That’s my girl.” Shanks kisses you softly, reassuringly, before he stands and pushes you back on the bed, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs. As you reach for the waistband of your underwear, he stops you.

“Not those,” he says, returning to his knees and placing a wide hand on each of your thighs, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Not yet.”

He kisses up your inner thighs, teeth grazing you with soft nips and bites, using his tongue to soothe each mark he leaves behind. He reaches the apex of your legs and stops to breathe you in, kissing and tonguing you through the thin fabric, nosing at your clit while his breath warms your swollen pussy lips, drawing a sigh from you. Every little noise you make only seems to urge him on, and soon he has your panties pulled to the side as he noisily sucks and licks you, his wide tongue lapping at your clit, devouring you in a way that says this is like second nature to him.

“F-fuck,” you stammer as you reach down and grasp a handful of his hair, tugging it at the roots. “So good.”

Shanks only smiles against your cunt in response and a river of saliva runs down your thighs. He slides two fingers in your drenched hole, crooking them upwards to stroke that spot inside you that makes electricity run through your limbs, and every moan of pleasure that escapes you elicits one of his own in response. Soon you can barely hear yourself, words muffled like you’re underwater, as you warn him how close you are, how you’re almost there, how bad you need it; your body starts to arch off the mattress, but he grips your hip with his free hand and holds you down as your stomach tenses and your thighs shake. You cry out for him with unabashed abandon as you’re suddenly overwhelmed with uncontrollable, shuddering spasms.

“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, pulling his fingers out of you and giving your slit one last long, slow lick. “Feel a little better?”

You manage to push yourself into a sitting position and almost whimper at seeing Shanks between your legs, his face flushed, his goatee glistening with your wetness; you lean down impulsively and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips, greedily sucking at his bottom lip before pulling away.  “Dad, I—”

“Tell me what you want,” he quickly interrupts, a look of sudden desperation on his face. “I’ll give you anything, anything at all, I promise.”

And you believed him. He loved you, more than anything in this world, and the way he looked at you, you knew he would gladly give you whatever you needed if it would make you feel complete.

“I… I want you inside me.”

“Yeah?” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and strokes your cheek gently with the back of his hand. “You sure?”

You nod, knowing he must be able to see the desire etched into your features, the yearning that glimmers in your eyes. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” He stands and kisses you on the forehead, and you see the thick outline of his cock pressing against his pajama pants. “Just wait here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

Shanks doesn’t give you enough time to reconsider and comes back quickly, a condom and a bottle of lube in his hand. You want to tell him not to use protection—that you’re on the pill and you want him to cum in you, that you want to belong to him in all ways. But you hold your tongue and hope that perhaps there will be a next time, another day you can beg him to spill himself inside you and make you feel like his and his alone.

He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the powerful, muscled body that you had secretly tried to catch a glimpse of more times than you would ever admit. Heat rises in his cheeks and he grins as he notices the shamelessness with which you ogle him as you scoot further back on the bed; he runs his hands over his broad, hairy chest, his fingers trailing down the softness of his stomach to the waistband of his pajamas. He slowly pulls them down over his hips, down his muscular thighs, and your eyes widen at the sight of his thick, half-hard cock.

“You like what you see, honey?” he teases as he climbs onto the bed with you and kneels between your legs, softly moaning as he strokes himself hard.

“Yeah, I do,” you murmur, watching him as he carefully tears away the foil of the condom wrapper and rolls it on. He drips lube onto his sheathed cock and rubs it along the length, as if to prove how much he loves you, how much he wants to make sure he doesn’t hurt you. Shanks moves between your parted legs and cages you in on one side, his hand pressed into the mattress, the other guiding himself to your entrance.

He sinks himself into you without hesitation—he knows what you want from him, and to ask you again if you’re sure, if this is what you really want, would only keep you apart for longer, and you’d already waited long enough for this moment. He holds himself there, pushed inside you as far as your body would accept him, feeling how you stretch to accommodate his girth. You wrap your arms around his neck and nod as if to urge him on, and he slowly starts to move his hips; your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him filling you, over and over, as he delves deeper into you with each rhythmic push.

“Oh, sweetheart, you feel so good,” Shanks groans as he leans down to kiss your neck. “You’re taking me so well.”

He rocks against you gently, almost as if to comfort you more than to fuck you, to bring you whatever relief you need to take from him. A soothing warmth spreads through your thighs as he fucks into you with a measured, insistent rhythm, and you lift your hips upwards to meet each thrust.

“I wanna cum again,” you whimper as you feel yourself pulsing and tightening around him, balancing on the edge of another climax, “with you inside me.”

“Then cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he grunts, thrusting faster as you writhe beneath him. “I want to feel you.”

You reach one hand between your bodies and quickly press your fingers down on your aching clit, feeling an almost immediate tightness building within you.

“Fuck, dad, m’so close,” you whimper as you feel yourself tensing, almost as if you’re seeking his approval.

Shanks leans down and presses his lips to your ear: “Go on—cum for me, sweet girl.”

You reach your climax with a profound shudder, and cry out as you clench around him, reveling in how he fills you with every thrust as you spasm and shake under him.

“God, I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he groans as his hips snap against you faster now, your orgasm urging him quickly to his own. “Just hold tight to me, okay?”

He fucks you with an impatient need, as if it hurts not to take you, gasping and heaving as he pulls you tightly against his chest. You sob into him, moaning his name again and again as you thrash beneath him, lifting your hips to his thrusting body. Strands of his hair brush against your face as he kisses you, hard and urgent, his goatee scratching at your skin.

“That’s it,” he pants as his muscles tense and his hips move in an erratic rhythm. “Fuck—that’s it sweetheart—gonna cum for you.”

Shanks groans long and low into the crook of your neck and his body shudders, overcome with a jarring, pulsing climax as he convulses against you. His thrusts slow and he pulls in lungfuls of air between the soft kisses that he leaves along your neck and jaw.  He pushes himself up on his hands and kisses your cheek. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You don’t think you’ve been this okay in a very, very long time. “You?”

“Yeah.” He smiles at you, that smile that grounds you and reminds you that you’re his, and slowly starts to pull out of you. “I’m gonna go clean up, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be right here.” You watch him as he walks into your bathroom and shuts the door behind him, and you already miss the way his cock feels, the way it made you feel whole, the way it felt like he fit perfectly in you, like you were meant to be fucked by him somehow.

He returns and joins you under the covers; you cling to him, running your fingers through his thick chest hair, some of it going grey, patches of it matted to his skin with his sweat and your tears. It’s the closest you’ve felt to something like normal, something like happy, in a long time. You want to stay here in this moment as long as you can, even though you know that it can’t last—it’s not something meant for you to have.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Shanks says quietly as his fingers brush your shoulder. “Maybe you could move back home.”

You chew on the side of your tongue for a moment while you force yourself to hesitate, to keep yourself from blurting out something you wouldn’t want to take back. “I mean, I can’t just break my lease.”

“Yes you can.” His hand clutches your shoulder tighter. “I’ll pay for it.”

“But it’s an hour drive to work.”

“I’ll buy you a better car.” His fingers sink into your skin deeper, almost bruising as he pulls you close. “Better yet, just find a job here. Not like you need to pay rent if you live at home.”

“I can’t,” you shake your head as you bury it against his chest, gripping a handful of hair between your fingers. You can—you could. But you shouldn’t. Not yet, not now.

“I know.” He sighs as his hold loosens, his thumb rubbing over the tender spots where he gripped you. “It’s just empty here without you.”

A soft wind shakes the tree outside your window, and a branch scrapes against the glass.

“I just…really need you, sweetheart.” His voice cracks as he speaks, the words quiet and pleading.

Your lip quivers and you choke down more tears as he says what you want to hear, what some part of you has always needed to hear. “I need you too.”

“Promise you’ll think about it? About coming back home?”

“I promise.”

And you knew you would. It would consume your thoughts, it would rule your waking hours, it would rouse you from fitful sleep every night—the notion of returning home to him, to the safety of his arms, and the whiskey-smooth sound of his voice, and the honeyed sweetness of his kisses would drive you to distraction until you gave up everything and stood on his doorstep, waiting for him to welcome you home.

Shanks pulls you closer, kisses your forehead, breathes out to breathe you in. “I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you too, dad.”

[billthedrake]

(This one is a riff from an idea a reader suggested.)

SIX COORS LATER

Sean Bennett woke up a little groggy. He probably had a couple too many beers last night.

The ex-QB told himself he should be a more responsible man. His wife had just borne their third kid six months ago, fer chrissake. But Sean's job had him on the road every week during the college ball season, put up in one soulless luxury hotel room after another. He'd had an amazing run as an NFL quarterback, with some ups and downs to be sure, and now how had an enviable gig being a sports commentator for college ball. Saturday night, after the broadcast, was his chance to let loose a little.

Only Sean realized he wasn't in a hotel room. The ex-athlete's eyes adjusted to the early morning dimness. He was definitely in a bedroom. Some modern condo or apartment, sparsely decorated. A dude's bedroom.

Just then the sportscaster hunk felt the warmth of another body scoot up next to him, placing a thickly muscled forearm over Sean's still-fit and manscaped upper body.

"Hmmmm," came the deep voice cracking in morning voice. The dude scooted up next to him as Sean tried to remembered any details about the guy but was coming up short. Even on the name. Jason? Justin? Jesse? Jackson? Fuck.

The man felt nice. Probably around Bennett's age. Late 30s with a cross-fit body. A work-hard, play-hard professional. BIG Michigan fan. A very thick uncut cock and a sexual stamina that could go multiple rounds. Funny how those details were coming back to the ex-jock so easily.

Maybe it was that hard thick shaft pressing into Sean's hips and the way the fan's hand was pawing at Sean's hard body, even if in a groggy slowness.

"Hm... you probably should go soon, bro... my girlfriend gets back in town this morning."

Sean nodded, but didn't make a move to slip out of the guy's warm bed. Hell, those powerful arms felt SO good. Bennett enjoyed a man's touch from time to time, but he rarely stayed around for the morning, for the more sobered up experience of this. Just a second longer, he thought.

Thing was, Jackson or Justin or whoever wasn't letting go. His kisses traveled up Sean's neck, finding that sensitive trigger spot right behind Bennett's ear, the one that makes the ex-athlete wanna put out. Just like he'd found it so effortlessly last night.

"Yes," Sean hissed. It was only then that he was aware of his own cock, a shank of morning wood that jerked excitedly, now awake. And Jackson's hand was drifting down those washboard abs, over the trimmed light fur to finally touch that QB bone.

"You fuckin' horndog," the guy muttered with a clear lust. Then after he kissed that spot again, he added with a louder voice, "Turn over."

The two had fucked three times the previous night, twice in one go and once waking up at 3 in the morning. But they hadn't done this position. Without ceremony Jackson was crawling on top of Sean's prostrate body, kissing along the shoulder blades and then back at the neck. Sean could feel the guy's hard, hairier muscle on his back and that thick wedge of uncut dick press into his surprisingly wet ass cleft.

The top took a second to enjoy that mounting position before he reached down to guide his fat dong into place. "God, you're still wet with my cum," he said. His voice was clearer now, fully awake.

Sean blushed. He'd been a little drunk when he agreed to come back to Jackson's place, and he wished he was drunk now. At least his hole was loosened up, fully, for this thick tool. The first time Bennett had been shafted by a large cock was a mindblowing experience, but now he got excited by girth even more than length. And Jackson brought he girth.

It was now four solid inches inside him. The hunk was clearly excited, kissing Sean some more. "Bro... I used to jack off so much thinking about doing this to you," he said.

Then, all of a sudden, the top powered the rest of that fat prick into Sean's guts.

"FUCK!" Bennett exclaimed. Not in pain but definitely uncomfortable and surprised.

"You got this, bro," Jackson urged. Sean could tell from the edge in his voice he was eager just to start fucking, and that scared the ex-QB. "You took me like a pro last night."

"Give me a sec, OK?" Bennett pleaded.

"Yeah," came the reply. But a second later, Jackson was reaching over for something. The hand came back, right to Sean's face and it was the smell that made him recognize the poppers.

"Come on, bro," came the guy's voice. Urging Sean to sniff the fumes. "I need to pound one off real bad, and I don't got a lot of time."

One of these days Sean Bennett would learn self-respect. Today, he sniffed the amyl, one nostril then the other.

The heat hit his body just at the right time. Jackson liked to fuck hard and fast, using his whole muscled body. That thick tool was plunging in and out of Sean's guts and felt INTENSE. Only now it was intense in a good way, making the ex-jock's insides buzz.

"Fuck, that cunt is so squishy, man," Jackson hissed.

Indeed, they could both hear the sloshy slick sounds of each inward thrust and Sean could feel excess cum dripping down between his legs, and over his ball sac. Just that tickling trickle made Bennett rock hard against the guy's bedsheets. The bottom didn't know how much was the amount of cum Jackson had shot inside him last night and how much was the girth of the cock forcing the load out with each shove.

"Bro... you're milking it right out of me man... Gonna milk my load right out into that hot ass of yours.... oh SHIT!"

The heaving body went rigid on top of him, and Sean knew he was getting loaded up for the fourth time in 12 hours. He knew when the poppers wore off, he'd regret this. He'd gone cold turkey actually a few years back, and even when he started fooling with guys again, he told himself it would be more of an occasional thing.

And now he felt about 210 pounds of masculine dude rest the full body weight on his stretched out body. Jackson felt heavy, but Sean didn't want the guy to break body contact not yet. That fat dong was still jerking inside him, undoubtedly still shooting some dribbles deep up in him.

Finally the guy shifted on top of him but didn't push himself off. Instead, Jackson reached around to find Bennett's tool. Still rock hard and still leaking so much he didn't need lube.

"Aw fuck!" Sean gasped as he felt the hand stroke his prick. Combined with that very stuffed, very loaded feeling, the very touch of Jackson's hand was magic.

Sean heard a soft chuckle in his ear as the top leaned forward and jerked Sean with determined strokes. The dude had a great touch, for sure.

"Come on, bro," he urged. "You wanna..."

"Yeah," Sean replied. He wanted to. He wanted to let this hot stud play him like a violin. It was the opposite of sex with his wife, when he did all the work. Now, the QB was the penetrated one, passively worked over by a man who knew what he was doing.

The pissslit stung just a second once the cum barreled out, it was that kind of orgasm.

"Nice!" Jackson hissed and kissed Sean's neck once more. "Let it out, buddy."

Sean did. Maybe because he hadn't shot load for load with Jackson's orgasms, and he was behind in the count. Maybe because he loved his mounted position more than he wanted to admit.

He'd barely had time to come down from the high of his cum when that hand withdrew and that thick dong finally retreated from his clenched asshole, but not before dragging some of that fresh deposit with it.

Sean felt a pat to his rump and felt the bed shift as Jackson slid off the bed. His host walked over and undid the bedroom curtains, letting in the dawn light.

Slowly Bennett turned on his side to get a good look. He was embarrassed to realize he could barely remember what Jackson looked like. But he was getting a good look now. About 6-foot-even, handsome more than cute, thinning brown hair, blue eyes. Back in the day, Bennett liked the thrill of fucking around with big-league athletes and coaches, then he went through a phase of being into regular guys... fans, married men, guy next door types. Jackson was in a different league, with an incredible body yet still carried himself like a regular dude.

"God, you're hot," Sean said before his mind could censor what his libido was thinking.

That made Jackson paused and turn toward the NFL star. He let out a little laugh and smiled, "Man, you're a trip," he said.

From the new angle, Sean could see that hard muscle beneath the brown body fur, rounded and ripped, and just how thick and heavy that dong was, even soft, swaying beneath a large nutsac. If this dude wanted to go for round five...

"Your girlfriend is probably on her way," Sean said instead, injecting reality as he sat up in bed. He knew he had a great body, but could see in the way Jackson's eyes swept over his form that the top was definitely starstruck himself.

"Yeah," he said with a little sadness. "Her flight lands around 7."

Sean nodded. He wasn't gonna make trouble for this dude. He slid out of bed and felt proud as Jackson just watched, staring like a wolf circling the hen house.

As Sean got dressed, his host slipped on some gym shorts and walked out to the kitchen to make some coffee.

The ex-QB knew this was gonna be one hell of a walk of shame. Still suited up from the night before. His cohost and work buddy Curt Collins ould probably razz him for going home with one of those dudes from their bar outing.

But even as the regrets were sinking in, the sex had been worth it. Sean made sure he looked presentable and that he had everything. Then he walked to find Jackson shirtless and hunky as hell, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his phone.

The guy looked up with that look again. The look of a man who'd had his bucket list fantasy satisfied in the biggest way.

"She's in an uber now," he said. "You good, man?" he asked. Maybe worried Sean was freaking out some.

"Yeah," Bennett replied. "I'm good."

It was Jackson who seemed shy now. "Well..." he started. Then he picked up a folded scrap of paper and handed it to Sean. "In case you're back in town," he added. "It's my Google number, just be discreet."

"I usually don't," Sean said, taking the paper nonetheless.

"I get it," Jackson said. "Shoot your shot, right?"

That made Sean laugh. This guy was just a normal dude. He stuffed the paper into his suit pocket.

"A final kiss at least?" Jackson asked.

Sean smiled and stepped up. The dude was a few inches shorter but their heights matched well. Their kiss was soft and surprisingly sensual.

"I taste like stale beer," Sean apologized.

"Yeah you do," Jackson said with a smile. "It's cool though. You're a good kisser. We didn't do enough last night."

They kissed again.

"Fuck!" Jackson finally hissed. Sean knew why.

"All right," the athlete said. "Take care."

Sean was in the Uber back to his hotel before he pulled out the folded paper. The handwriting was simple and masculine, more neat than a scrawl. "Matt," it read. The phone number.

So that was his name, Sean thought.

He didn't know the next time he'd be in this city. Probably once next season, though maybe his travels would bring him here again. Maybe Matt would want to come to Ft. Lauderdale, or even Miami.

Doofus, he thought to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Sean took another look at that piece of paper then picked up his phone.

"Hey, great to meet you. SB." was all his message said. He typed it, looked it over, and hit Send.

No reply immediately. Matt was probably showering up, or washing the sheets. Maybe the girlfriend was already home.

Instead a text came in. Collins. "Tell me you had as much fun as I did last night." Sean couldn't remember who his buddy and colleague had chatted up. Maybe one of Matt's buddies. Hell, THAT could have been Jackson. Or Jason. Whatever.

"Probably more," he typed back with a grin. "What happens in Austin stays in Austin, right?"

"Right-O," Curt typed. "They grow 'em big down here in Texas dont they buddy?"

Sean smiled. His hole ached to think of Matt's huge dong. "They sure do man."

He'd find a way, any excuse, to come back before next year. Somehow.

He slid his phone in his pocket and shut his eyes just to rest them. He'd need a major nap on the plane ride for sure.

[bigball-thefrog]

In The Captains Cabin:Shanks X Reader

______________________________

Finally back from writers block and I come back with the longest thing I've written and it's smut! I hope you enjoy and I hope I don't get writers block again for awhile

Warnings and Tags:

Smut

Some fluff

Oral

Reader has female genitals but gender is not stated

Rough sex

Soft sex

It's reader's first time and they're nervous

Experienced Shanks

Both are slightly intoxicated but both are consenting

Usage of safeword

______________________________

Reader POV

After being on the crew of the Red Haired Pirates for almost six months, I never expected to be here in the captains quarters with his hand firmly gripping my hip while his tongue was deep down my throat.

There isn't much back story to this, we were all drunk again and while I was feeling bold and tipsy, Shanks invited me to sit down with him and I decided to sit on his lap. We joked about it but I ended up moving around too much and now here I am about to lose my virginity to my captain. His hand moved from my hip to my ass as he gave it a playful slap before pulling away from the kiss, "You ready for this sweetheart?" he askes as he moves his hand to hold my chin. "Can we maybe just establish a safe word before we start?" I ask sheepishly. He chuckles and pinches my cheek, "So cute. Of course sweetheart, whatever will make you most comfortable." He kissed my forehead before thinking, "How about.... Rum?" he suggests. I nod in agreement, "Rum... It's good, just as long as there's a safe word to use." "Alright, so Shall I begin sweetheart?" I nervously nod and Shanks smirks.

He leads me to his bed and pushes me on it. I lay down on my back with my legs hanging over the sides. Shanks gets closer and places himself between my legs as he starts to get undressed. He unbuttones his shirt, revealing his toned upper body. He caught me staring and chuckled, he took my hand and placed it on his chest, "Just feel that Sweetheart." I ran my hand over his chest and he let out a soft moan and smirked. I brought my other hand up and started feeling up his body. It just felt... So nice touch. The skin, the hair, a few scars here and there. It was almost hypnotic to touch and squish, so distracting that I didn't notice the sound of Shanks unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. Shanks whistled to get my attention back and when I looked at him he gestured for me to look down. I did so and was met with the sight of a good eight inches in front of me. I froze up a bit and just looked back at Shanks, who was just laughing at my reaction, "You're cute you know that? This is my favorite part with people's first times, they never expect it to be so big and when they see it they get second thoughts. So I'll ask again sweetheart, do you want to continue darling?" he asked with a smirk. I nervously nodded and he bent down and gently grabbed my chin, his face becoming serious, "I need your verbal consent sweetheart." "Y-ye-" "With confidence dear, so I know you're absolutely sure about this." I took a deep breath before speaking again, "Yes, I am ready for this." He smirked again and took his hand from my chin down to my pants.

He teasingly played with the hem of my pants and underwear before ripping them off, leaving me exposed to his eyes. His eyes narrowed and his smirk grew from the sight of my already wet entrance, "Already so wet for me darling? You might be more excited about this than I am~" he said as he brought himself closer and placed the tip of his penis against my entrance, "Just remember, the safeword is rum. And if absolutely anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable then use it, alright darling?" "Yes Shanks." He nodded with a satisfied grin before placing his hand on my hip. I tensed up my body as I felt him move his hips closer and before I could properly mentally prepare myself he thrusted his entire length inside me causing me to gasp and causing him to moan, "Fuck sweetheart... You feel amazing~" I only managed to let out a shaky whimper in response, he chuckled and gently rubbed my hip before gripping it firmly. He gave me one last look of reassurance before he began thrusting inside of me. He started at a slow pace, letting me get adjusted to his size, it was kinda painful and not really feeling good at first, but after a few seconds I quickly started to get used to it and the arousal started to grow, but the pain was still there. After seeing me relax a little, Shanks started picking up the pace, little by little and after about two minutes of speeding up his thrusts he was now going deep and fast inside me, hitting my sweet spot each time but also making it more painful. I thought it was apart of the process and thought I would get used to the pain but it just wouldn't go away so I was really starting get uncomfortable. Shanks was just enjoying himself as he continued to thrust fastly into me while gripping my hip firmly. I was really getting uncomfortable now and the pain was getting borderline unbearable, causing me to tear up, Shanks saw this and thought I was just getting close to my orgasam, "You like that sweetheart? Feels good doesn't it?~ I just squirmed and whimpered, still feeling too overwhelmed to do anything. At this point the dirty talk and the painful thrusting was just getting so bad so I finally just snapped.

"RUM, RUM. PLEASE JUST STOP!!!"

Shanks instantly stopped and pulled out, looking shocked and concerned as he helped me sit up, "What's wrong sweetheart? What did I do wrong?" He softly asked as he began caressing my head to calm me down, "E-everything! It all hurt and just felt uncomfortable, I felt like I was going to be split in half!" I cried out. Shanks brought me closer to let me cry on his shoulder while he pondered what I said. A minute later he put his hand under my chin and made me look up at him, "Alright, I think I just got too excited when you said it's your first time. Being someone's first time is always exciting and I kinda got too caught up in the excitement of taking your virginity that I forgot that this was also supposed to be an amazing time for you too. I'm sorry sweetheart." I nodded in understanding and he gave my chin a little squeeze, "If you give me a second chance I'll be better this time." He said now with a soft smile rather than his previous lustful look. I was nervous to try that again but he seemed genuinely sorry for being too rough. "Okay.... I'll try it again." Shanks smiled and kissed my forehead before getting down on his knees, "I'll get you in the proper mood first this time." I looked down at him curiously as he brought his face closer between my legs. Gave my thighs a few kisses before he planted his mouth on the folds of my pussy, I shuddered a little and after a small moan from him he stuck his tongue out and began eating me out. I gasped and tried to close my legs but Shanks used his hand to pry my legs back open. He lapped up my wetness and moaned in delight, he moved his hand from my thigh and to my pussy and stuck two fingers in. I moaned this time which caused him to smirk as he kept lapping up my juices. He rolled and played with my cunt gently, causing it to swell and turn red, making me start to really feel aroused.

I began moaning more frequently now really starting to enjoy it, Shanks sped up a little bit but looked up at me every so often to make sure I was still enjoying myself. I could start to feel a weird feeling start to grow down in my stomach and it was growing quickly. I started moaning louder, "Shanks, somethings happening, my stomach feels weird.." "Shhh, don't worry darling, just let it happen." Shanks reassured me and continued eating me out. My moans grew more desperate and the feeling in my stomach was growing fast. Then I threw my head back with a loud moan as a feeling of ecstasy came over me. I squeezed my legs around Shanks' head as I rode it out and when it finished I unclenched my legs from his head and just layed back panting. Shanks moved his head from between my legs, also panting, his mouth glistening from my slick. He removed his fingers and licked them clean, he moaned and looked back at me, "You taste amazing darling~ I think it's about time we move on with the foreplay and try again at what we first did hmm?" I hesitantly agreed and he got up from his knees. This time he put my legs up over his shoulders, "You sure you want to do this?" "Yes, I think I'm too flustered to stop." He smirked and leaned down for one last kiss before trying to insert his cock back inside me. This time he gently pushed himself against me, taking it slow this time, and after the foreplay it slid in much easier and hurt less. "Much better now that you're all wet my dear." He whispered before beginning to thrust again, but due to his size it became uncomfortable again and said the safeword again. Shanks sighed before pulling out and scratching his head, "We're not going to get anywhere if you're still uncomfortable. Are you really sure you want to do this?" "Yes I am, I'm just scared..." Shanks sighed and looked around his cabin trying to find something that would help, his face lit up as he moved to his drawers to get something. After digging round for a minute he came back with something in his hands and stood back in front of me. He then placed pink teddy bear on my chest and smiled, "A little friend for you to squeeze your stress away while we do it." I take the teddy bear in my hands and put it close to my chest, it does help me relax and I let out a sigh of relief I didn't know I was holding in. Shanks rubs my hair reassuringly and speaks, "There we go, do you think we can try again now?" I nod and he got back into position again.

With my legs back over his shoulder he trusted back inside of me, I clutched the teddy bear tightly and it actually helped me relax a little. Shanks waited for me to tell him to carry on and I nodded. He thrusted at a slow place and didn't go any faster, the uncomfortable feeling from his length started coming back but this time I hugged the teddy bear and it helped me calm down. Soon the uncomfy feeling went away and I got used to his size, I now started enjoying it and moaned. Shanks smirked, "How are you feeling darling?" "B-Better. You can go a little faster." Shanks sped up his pace and placed his hand on my stomach. He kept at this pace, not too slow and not too fast, just perfect. He bent over and started kissing me from my tummy to my neck, being as gentle possible. His hand moved from my stomach to my thighs, gently squeezing and caressing them as he continued at the same pace. That feeling of ecstasy started building up again making me start whimpering. "You close baby?" Shanks asked. "Yes, very close." I mumbled out. "Me too baby, just try and hold it a little bit longer, I wanna cum with you." I nodded and tried to hold back the growing feeling but it was growing quickly and was very overwhelming. Shanks started moving faster to get us both to cum faster, which it just made it more overwhelming to hold back. Shanks' hand went to my hip and he gripped it tightly, "Come on baby, come for me." He groaned out and with that, I buried my face in the teddy bear and practically screamed out in ecstasy as Shanks and I both came at the same time, his seed coating my walls white and filling me up. Once we both rode out our high, Shanks pulled out and collapsed next to me. After a minute to recover he properly got in the bed and pulled me up next to him.

"You were amazing sweetheart~ How was your first time sweetheart?" "Good.." "Only good? Guess I'll have to try harder next time then darling~" I blushed at his implications that this wouldn't be the only time, I hugged the teddy bear tight and burried my face in it again. "So cute~" Shanks said as he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close to his chest. "Get some rest sweetheart, and tomorrow I'll make sure your body recovers from tonight

[lockes-woods]

Kinktober '24 Day 10

Request: modern au, professor shanks( his topic of teaching is up to you) college student afab reader, dom shanks, sub reader. reader starts falling behind in his class and nobody has time to help her because its near exams n stuff ( im not 100% familiar ) so shanks offers to help her out. i guess kinda semi public, in a library, use of vibrator reward system, fingering, degradation when she gets stuff wrong, that kind of thing if you catch me drift, totes cool if it ends with sex. ( for kinktober )

Warnings: PIV, Shanks teasing, vibrator, cockwarming, desk sex.

A/N: Will edit tomorrow when more coherent

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“Aw, sweetheart we just reviewed this model today, this should be easy.” Shanks chastised you. You didn’t even need to turn your head to see his smirk; it was clear in his voice. You whined as he clicked the vibrator he was holding against your clit up to the next speed of vibration. You had been cockwarming him for the better part of the last hour and it was driving you crazy. All you had to do was answer five questions in a row correctly and then he’d let you cum without punishment. When you got a question wrong it not only ended the streak, but it also meant that the vibrator he was holding flush with your clit would go up a vibration setting. If you came before then he was gonna see that you wouldn’t cum until exam season was over. The main problem was, you’d get four down, before he’d quiz you on a model you had no idea how to interpret.

While you had gotten better since the midterm, there was no way you were going to excel at macroeconomics. You knew reasonably that it was one of those classes that, while it technically applied to your major, you would never use in the real world. Fuck the midterm was the only reason you were sat here, with the tip of your professor’s cock kissing your cervix. While you knew you didn’t need this class to excel at your career, you did need to keep and maintain a high enough GPA to stay in the honor’s program. That program qualified you for scholarships and grants that allowed you to study your passion at all. When you came close to failing the course with your pathetic midterm grade you started to go to every single office hour session your professor offered.

Over the past six weeks you two have gotten close. You were almost always the only one attending office hours, if others did attend, they didn’t stay for the entire session. It had been roughly three weeks since there was a shift in your professional relationship. It was at his latest office hours he held on Friday nights. You had come in an actually put together outfit, not your normal comfy clothing. Your friend was planning on setting you up on a date that you would never get to. You had been going over one of the dozens of economic models you needed to not only memorize the effect of, but also interpret and apply the information given when you became acutely aware of how close you were to your professor. You sat shoulder to shoulder as you leaned down to get a better understanding of the graph, unaware of the perfect angle of cleavage you were unintentionally showing your very attractive professor. You don’t remember exactly how, but you quickly switched from him teaching you, to you straddling his lap in a heated make out session. You had only given him head that night, but since then he had incorporated a sexual element to each of your study sessions. The most embarrassing part was that you were genuinely doing better in the class since your relationship had turned unprofessional. It wasn’t from him giving you extra grace while grading, if anything he had gotten harsher, you just needed that bit of motivation to keep your focus.

“Fuck, please Sir,” you whined, you were getting desperate at his unintentional edging. It was always at this point in the night that you questioned if he had purposefully made it harder for you to complete his challenge, or if you were just really that dumb.

“I’m sorry baby, you know the rules I set for tonight. You can always give up, but you won’t cum if you don’t play.” He gently reminded you, before adding, “And if you succumb and do cum without my permission you won’t be getting any more relief for the next week and a half. Though that option seems to be more and more likely.”

You let out a groan, clicking on the next set of questions he had set up for you. Now fueled by proving him wrong. You got through the first two in a breeze, the third one was hard, but you had just answered right enough that he counted it, the fourth had you stumped but the pulse of him deep inside of you kept you determined. It was now not just about cumming it was proving him wrong. After a moment you went out on a limb and were thankfully rewarded with the correct answer. Now came the fifth question. Fuck you could feel him pulsing and twitching against you; he was so deep inside of you that you felt like you could cum on the spot. You took a deep breath through your nose and keyed into the last question. You recognized it as information that you had just gone over earlier today. Fuck, you groaned internally. He had you wear a remote operated vibrator today. He had kept it on low the entire class, but it garnered almost all of your attention regardless.

Okay, Fuck, Focus; you chastised yourself.

“Aw, baby you’re wasting your time. Why don’t you just cum? It’d feel so good.” He taunted you, “I’d love to make a mess of your pussy” he grunted as you involuntarily clenched around him, “It’s only a matter of time, you can give up now or be forced to give up when I turned up the vibrator. We both know how sensitive your little clity is.”

You took a deep breath his taunting only lit a fire under you. While it wasn’t always a good thing, your stubbornness kept you strong throughout his comments. You reread the question, taking time to break down each component. You slowly worked your way through the problem before leaning back against his chest. After a cursory checking you hit the submit button. A smile broke across your face as the green checkmark glowed on the screen.

“Fuck, good girl,” he said, rewarding you with a sweet kiss.

A gasp escaped you as he pulled back and quickly slammed his laptop shut and moved it to the side. He covered your mouth with his hand as he shifted you position so that you were now bent down over his desk; vibrator lost somewhere in the process.

“Be a good girl and be quiet, okay?” he said, before you were even able to give a response, he slammed into you hard. He was as desperate if not more desperate than you to get to yours, and his inevitable release. Your eyes widened as you took in the light still on across the hallway to his office mates’ area. He had never taken you before with someone else in the vicinity. He only ever fucked you after hours. You were left stunned for a moment, before the steady hard drags of his cock took all your attention. You could feel all the stress of the last hour melt away as he quickened his pace and began to fuck you with intent. You gasped against his hand, clenching down on him hard.

“Fuck, just like that, good girl.” He groaned, picking up his pace as you only tightened more.

“Fuck, Sir I’m going to-” you started,

“Fuck, go ahead baby, you’re doing so good,” he groaned. You let out a silent scream under his palm as you pulsed around him. He grunted, as he continued to thrust into you well past your release. You were a whimpering mess on his desk, as he used you how he pleased. His hips stuttering was the only warning you got before his grip became bruising. His final thrust was hard and purposeful as he came deep inside you.

You could only whimper as he eased out of you, pulled up your underwear and flipped your skirt back down.

“You okay baby?” he asked, tucking himself back into his pants before pulling you back down so that you were flush against him. You could only whine, still coming down from your high.

“I’m okay,” you said in a small voice, once you finally felt back home back in your body.

“Good,” he said kissing you temple, “I’m excited to see what you get on the exam.”

“Really?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to the side.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, “You’ve come so far since the midterm, and I don’t just mean that in the literal sense.” He said with a smirk. You only rolled your eyes at him.

“You’re such a dork,” You said, sharing a laugh.

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MASTERLIST

A/N: Thank you as always for taking the time to read! Stay tuned for Fatgum x AFAB! Reader

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine taking Rayleigh and Shakky out on a date

This is part 2 of this post

Rayleigh: so you want to take us out on a pretend date to spite your first mate and captain for bullying you?

Reader: I know how it sounds, but I figured it'd be a good way to get back at them.

Shakky: While I'm all for helping you get revenge, I don't understand your logic.

You: well, Rayleigh is Shanks's father figure.

Rayleigh: That's not how I'd put it, but I suppose I'm the closest thing he's got.

You: And while I know you two have an open relationship, I thought fucking my captain's father figure would be crossing a line.

Shakky: probably a wise move.

You: And I wanted you to go on a fake date with you, Shakky because Benn has had a crush on you for years, but has been too nervous to ask you out on a date.

Rayleigh: so a date, with both of us, would be two birds with one stone.

Shakky: Oh, I know about his little crush, his poker face is terrible

You: I know, right? I saw him in here earlier, looking at you, he was about as subtle as a sea train.

Rayleigh: *turns to his wife,* What do you think?

Shakky: I dunno.

You: I'll pay for dinner.

Shakky: Deal.

Rayleigh: Pick us up at six thirty tonight.

That night during dinner

Rayleigh: *drinking straight from the wine bottle you ordered*, So how's the brat supposed to know you took us on a date?

You: Well, he planned on dining here at seven, so by the time our food arrives, he should be here. But you know him, he's not good at sticking to plans. If he doesn't come, we could take a picture as a backup plan.

Shakky: Sounds like a plan, in the meantime, we should have a proper date.

Rayleigh: yes, tell us about yourself.

An hour later

You: And Shanks, buck ass naked, slips on the wet rocks, falls, and smacks against the surface of the water!

Shanks: (y/n)?

You: *looks over to notice Shanks and his inner circle gawking at you*

Rayleigh: hey sport

Shanks: what's going on here?

Shakky: what does it look like? We're having a date with this little cutie. *wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder, giving a pointed smirk at Benn*

Rayleigh: *puts his arm around both you and Shakky and pulls you into his side,* They were just telling us about your skinny sipping mishap on Koala Island.

Shanks: No

You: yep

Benn: *glaring daggers at you,* You little shit, how long has this been going on?

You: Not long, this is the first date.

Shanks: Is this because of what we said two weeks ago?

You: a little

Shanks: *pouts,* We were just teasing.

Shakky: You're interrupting our date, it's quite rude.

Shanks: Fine, enjoy your evening.

Later

Shanks: *alone, passed out drunk on his table*

Rayleigh: *sighs* this boy I swear.

Shakky: Want to ditch him with our tab?

You: Yeah, but we're not gonna leave him without the cash, *pulls out his wallet and puts the Berry you brought along inside before sliding it back into his pocket*

The next day on the Red Force

You: *walks onto the ship only for everyone to stare at you*

Benn: You have some explaining to do.

Shanks: *bursts out of his cabin,* Did you fuck them?

You: no, I thought that'd be crossing a line.

Shanks: then where did you stay last night?

You: In their guest room, I helped Shakky open this morning because Rayleigh had wandered off after our date... Look, it wasn't a real date, Boss, I was upfront with them about my intentions.

Shanks: We didn't bully you.

You: It certainly felt like it to me, and when I voiced that hurt, you didn't apologize, and basically told me to stop sulking. So I wanted you to know how it felt, so I asked Rayleigh and Shakky to help me get back at you for bullying me.

Shanks: I see, *reflects on his behavior for a moment* I'm sorry we teased you, it was supposed to be a joke but ended up hurting your feelings.

You: Apology accepted.

Shanks: Now, please never date any of my former crew mates from my time with Roger.

You: I promise I won't knowingly date any of them.

Shanks: I don't like the way you phrased that, but fine, I guess.

Benn: Now that that's done, tell me how in the hell you got Shakky to go on a date with you.

You: Again, it was a fake date, but I simply asked.

Benn: I was afraid you were gonna say that.

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