#first time posting

thinking abt riding ohyul in the studio late at night whilst he’s wearing these thick frames. face flushed and hair fucked as he chokes on another sob as you bounce up n down, gummy walls clenching so tight around his thick cock. he can’t help but throw his head back as endless streams of moans leave his pretty mouth, lips biting them raw as you slow your pace down. you grind your hips down fully, ass flushed against his thighs so you can feel every inch rubbing inside. he grips onto your waist for mercy, lashes fluttering up at you w those pretty eyes as he begs you to let him cum.

“s’good, need it. feel s’good, hah, please go faster baby.” he croaks out shakily, eyes rolling back as he ruts his hips up fucking his wet cock back into your tight pussy. your fingers trail down to your clit, rubbing it frantically as you tighten up again. you resume your fast pace again, babbling praises of him being such a good boy but all he’s focusing on is his hips meeting halfway up as you bounce down, the wet sounds shamelessly filling the empty studio room. ohyul could sense you were close as your thighs trembled on top of him, each thrust punching a small sob out of you. he was so close too and you both cry out, ohyul filling your wet cunt w his sticky cum. he threw his head back with a long drawn out moan, glasses now askew on his fucked out face. you collapsed forward onto his chest, panting softly to catch your breath but he’s already half hard again, lazily fucking his cum back into your creamy cunt to make more of a mess.

But when he saw you, standing strong, wielding your blade and Haki, taking down foes with a swiftness he found as mesmerizing as the ocean wind itself. Fierce in battle, yet gentle when chosen so. Shanks had watched you with harbored fondness and a kind smile, noticeable to all except for the one person he was gawking at, as if they were his entire world.

Beckman scolded him, and Yasopp screamed in panic when Shanks almost lost his other arm because he was distracted. Shanks could care less, though. Especially when he was admiring your cunning form as you-

Wait.

You were so focused, a Marine took advantage, striking in your blind spot before you could even prevent it.. And he was stuck. Physically? No. He could’ve moved, run, saved you. But he froze in shock.

It was like time slowed, like a clock in the distant began to slowly tick down the seconds.. "No.." The strike, the scream, and the downfall of everyone around them when his Conquerors' Haki was released.

Benn had grabbed you as quickly as he could and rushed you toward the ship. Hongo met him on deck and quickly began bandaging all the damage. Shanks? His carefree demeanor, which was normally ingrained in him, was gone. He slowly walked onto the deck, absent-minded until he locked eyes with your limp body.

Eyes fluttering and a sad whimper every time Hongo applied a disinfectant to your gash. That's when he locked in. Crouching beside their worried doctor, he had taken your hand in his, squeezing and muttering. "You'll be okay.. It's okay.. Come on now, sweetheart." That's also what he was telling himself right now in his bed.

Mind aching with pangs of longing, guilt, and worry. He couldn't rest. Not yet. That's when the strained groan came, and the creak of his bed. Shanks had pushed himself upwards and sat up, shifting to the edge of his bed and tugging on a proper shirt and boots, he warily exited his quarters with the stealth of a cat sneaking toward the cream. He didn't want to hear Benn's mouth if he caught him sneaking through the ship, "Captain's rest", "tip-top shape", blah, blah, blah..

It took less than five minutes for Shanks to reach the medbay. When he arrived, he carefully pawed the door open and peered his head through the crack. To his luck, Hongo had gone to his quarters. All that was left was.. You. Heavily breathing in what was most likely discomfort. Sweat beading at your forehead and a disgruntled look on your weary face. "Hey, sweetheart, you.."

Maybe he should let you rest. Maybe he should turn tail and stop himself from getting all mushy. But it was too late. "H-Huh?.." A quiet grunt and a questioning grumble came from your lips. Bleary vision, taking in the sight of a redhead standing in the doorway like an awkward toddler who just threw up.

"Captain?.."

"Yes. It's me."

He hastily replied, entering the medbay and gently closing the door behind him, then he stepped toward you. His eyes softened as he took a seat on the edge of the examination table. "Sorry for coming so late, I just.." How was he supposed to explain he couldn't catch a wink of sleep just because he was worrying himself into insomnia?

"I couldn't sleep. Not after all of that. I.. I was worried." "I am worried." He corrected, his only hand coming up to shyly scratch at the back of his neck. Sure, he admitted silly things like missing you, looking for you, or just enjoying the time he spent bugging you. But.. Worrying was a step forward. It showed he cared to a deeper level. One that was almost embarrassing if Shanks had a radar for embarrassing. But, normally, he didn't-

"Worried? About me?.." A low rasp of surprise left your mouth at his revelation. Shanks didn't worry. Not about much, or you. He had faith in you.. And yet, here he was, pouting at you with an honest look, a worry-wart who had a heart full of yearning would give. That caused a laugh to escape you.It was a bit painful, you clutched your stomach and lay your head back on your pillow, but you smiled. It felt nice to know Shanks cared.

"It's okay.. You don't have to worry. I'm fine-"

"I want to worry." His interjection was firm. Honest. And his expression was serious to match, as if he was saying 'don't object' with his thin lips and furrowed brows. "Let me worry."

He grumbled at you with the sudden angst of a teenager. And suddenly, he began to move, nudging you to subtly shift so he could lie beside you. It seemed like an odd request, but you couldn't object, especially when it didn't fully seem like a request.. He laid down beside you. Still. Silent. His eyes fixated on the ceiling, and thoughts ran through his mind.

Eventually, whether you both noticed or not, your hands ended up intertwined. Holding hands with your captain, huh.. Odd thing that most pirates wouldn't say, but for some reason it felt right.

His thumb rubbed over your knuckles, a rhythmic pattern, something soothing to both of you..

This was nice. In a bout of exhaustion and comfort, your head lulled against his. Shanks said nothing. But his head returned the favor.

Now, he didn't have to worry.

He just had to lie here and embrace what he wanted for so long.

When you look down to him, he's already looking back at you, and you know he's far gone, brain turned mush, not a single coherent thought in that beautiful head of his, mouth agape in a perfect O.

You can see it in his face that he's holding himself back so he doesn't cum too soon, so that you can reach your high before he does.

Even so pathetically drunk on you, he never misses to notice when you're getting there, and that's when he manages to sweet and dirty talk you through your orgasm in his breathy, hoarse voice. He only stops and lets himself go when he feels your body relaxing against his, mouthing the low, filthy moans he'd been holding just for you as he empties himself inside your pussy.

You can't help but clench around him one last time, involuntarily, milking him out, in a spasm from feeling his cock throbbing inside of you.

As you both come down from your highs, breaths still heavy but evening out, he peppers you with lingering kisses across your shoulders and neck, his stubble prickling your skin, sending more shivers up and down your spine, and asks let me see the mess we made.

He helps you lean against the mattress, tilting you back until you're supporting your weight on your elbows in between his legs, so he can open yours. You feel his softening dick leave your insides and you resent the sudden emptiness, even with a strip of both your orgasms connecting you.

You can tell he's entranced by the way his eyes are focused on your leaking cunt, with how he never breaks contact as he moves a hand to your entrance to touch you and inspect your acts. You wince from still being sensitive.

Push it out for me he whispers in such a way that your immediate response is a whimper leaving your throat. It catches his attention and when he looks up at you, you're already smirking at him with half-lidded eyes. Shit, baby is all he manages once he sees you pushing his load out, letting it drip out of you and on the bed sheets.

You nudge him with your foot, making him look up at you again, and you ask please, let me keep some in the most honeyed yet obscene tone he's ever heard you use.

He has to shake his head from the sudden wave of passion and lust, his dick jerking unintentionally, to come back down, to you. He takes a breath and works his fingers to thrust some of his semen back inside, making you whine in blissfulness.

Once he's done, you push yourself up and let him help you straddle him once more, chest to chest, your arms resting on his shoulders as you kiss his neck, his cheeks, the corner of his mouth and says a perky thank you.