Imagine The Red-haired Pirates Thinking You're Pregnant

Kinktober day 16: wet dreams with Shanks

warning: needy/pathetic shanks, wet dreams, riding.

Kinktober Masterlist

"Fuck- fuck- fuuuckk-" Shanks hadn't been on the bottom in a good long while, but now he wished he let you ride him more often, pussy-drunk in a way he only ever felt when he was suffocating between your thighs and half-delirious on your cries and taste.

Everything felt like a dream— fuzzy around the edges and strangely warm, leaving him feeling dazed and stupid while his gaze stayed fixated on how pretty your pussy looked taking his cock, folds squishing erotically against the red curls around his base when you grinded your hips against his own. His head spun when you whined from the stimulation it gave your clit, and though he'd usually reach down to thumb at your clit and stroke your folds, he couldn't pry his grip on the covers no matter how hard he tried.

"Keep goin', keep goin'," He whined pathetically, drool quickly spilling down his chin and puddling on his firm chest, bucking his hips up in an attempt to keep you bouncing on his cock like he was some sort of toy. "Please, angel, you're so fuckin' tight, pussy grippin' me so harddd-"

He sounded fucking stupid, but he didn't care as his release crept up his spine and made his cock jump excitedly in your hot cunt, rendered helpless to do anything but take what you gave him and thank you for it. He'd only been inside you for a few minutes, but just the sight of you alone left him baffled, bucking and crying for more.

Tits bouncing above him tantalizingly with each pump on his cock, hands on his broad shoulders to keep you from falling over, hair messy and pussy weeping on dick the way he loved so much. He couldn't get enough of the sight, and one glance at the way your face looked, brows furrowed and swollen lips parted in ecstasy, was more than enough send him tipping over the edge.

"Fuck! I'm cummin'! Oh shit, pretty girl, I-I'm-"

"Ah!" He woke with a gasp, hips bucking into the sheets as spurt after spurt of perfectly good cum went wasted in the confines of his tight boxers, whining loudly while he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back.

It didn't feel good like in the dream. In fact, everything about it felt rather dirty. His fiery hair stuck to his hot face, sweat beading down the back of his neck and soaking his pillow while drool dripped down the corners of his mouth, cock aching with each spasm as he ruined his shorts and made them all wet.

"...Babyyyyy," He whined, turning to push at your shoulder while you so peacefully slept. "Princess, I had a wet dream, please help meee."

He wasn't ashamed in the slightest. Rather, he was hoping you'd help ease the ache in his balls and made his dream a reality, already keening and palming his sticky boxers at the thought of getting to watch you pump yourself on his cock again.

The Wrong Outfit

Julius Novachrono x Reader

Fandom: BC

Summary: Y/N can’t help but feel hot and bothered from her previous encounter with the Wizard King. Chaos going on in the meeting she’s attending only make things worse, but Julius ends it early so everyone can cool down.

Warnings: Smut/notsfw, teasing, praise

Word Count: 829

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Keep reading

Imagine leaving shanks sexually frustrated

Part 1 Part 2 (here)

Four hours later

Benn: I'm impressed (y/n), he has finished four of the books. But he seems to be loosing steam. So what ever you did to motivate him, do it again.

You: on it *gets up and heads to the office where you find shanks leaning back in the desk chair, tiredly staring at the books and an abacus*

Shanks: *looks up at you and is clearly wondering if your reward is enough compensation for the tedium that is record keeping*

You: why don't you take a break darling, you look stressed.

Shanks: I am, which is one of the reasons I hate it. *Let's his head droop and he closes his eyes to ease the strain they felt*

You: let me help you relax *spins his chair to face you*

Shanks: *let's out a breathy whine*

You: *threads your fingers through his hair as you straddle his lap*

Shanks: *snaps his eyes open wide in surprise and excitement* ?

You: *chuckles and presses your lips to his*

Shanks: *wraps his arm around your waist and squishes you against his chest as he eagerly returns your kiss*

You: *parts your lips in invitation to him, and gently rolls your hips against his*

Shanks: *moans and deepens the kiss*

You: you feeling relaxed yet?

Shanks: *starts impatiently rolling his hips in tandem with yours* uh huh *pulls you back into a kiss and lifts you so you're now seated on the desk*

You: *puts your foot on his shoulder and pushes him back on his chair when he tries to stand up* ah ah ah

Shanks: *panting and irritated because you knocked the air out of him* but you said you'd help me relax

You: true, and I also said you could fool around with me after you finished archiving the these *holds up one of the books*

Shanks: *scowls at you* oh you'll pay for this

You: *sarcastic as fuck* sure you will, but only after these are done *hops off the desk and leaves*

Shanks: *watches you go as spite fills his belly and he returns to work with renewed vigor*

He stabbed himself

King and Queen of the Woodland Realm

I keep thinking about how your first time with Shanks is so intense you have to beg for a pause when he first sinks in all the way—how you gasp out a wait, fuck— wait and scramble with your fingers grasping for anything to ground you as you struggle to catch your breath with how deep he is within you. And how he stills, his hand finding your own to thread fingers with yours as he dips his head to bury his face in the crook of your shoulder. His scruff brushes against your sweat-slick skin and you jolt from the feel of it, clenching involuntarily and drawing a low curse from soft lips that pant against the curve of your neck. Can’t be doin’ that if you want me to wait, sweet thing, muttered into your ear with a pointed grind of his hips that has a whine hitching in the back of your throat, and your free hand flying up under the loose linen of his shirt to rake nails down his spine in protest. Admittedly it’s a foolish attempt—one that you can’t find it in you to regret, even if it has the emperor foregoing your request and slotting his lips against yours as he sets a rhythm that steals the breath from your lungs.

WELP😳

Din Djarin snoozin’

Bonus: 🥺

cap-that.com

“Have you ever removed your helmet?”

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

“This is the way.”

bonus “I am not a living thing”