Another Imu doodle dump to exorcise this demon from my mind.
Featuring a before-things-turned-bad Imu being startled by Joyboy, the typical pretty boy glare, silly creature, braiding Nami's hair and smooching Rocks.
I didn't expect One Piece to give me a demonic bishie, but here we are. I can't manage to draw him exactly like in the manga because my impulse to give him eyebrows is too strong.
tags: mommy issues, pregnancy, established relationship, consensual, breastfeeding, humping, soft dom reader, sub Shamrock - everyone has their weaknesses.
[ note: Here's a cute little drabble for you anon, hope you enjoy and thanks for the request! ✨ ]
It was an old custom amongst Celestial Dragons to let their newborns feed on slaves who had recently given birth as opposed to their own mothers. It was seen as a primal act, something no noble woman should partake in and risk ruining her pristine body. While the slaves were bestowed the honor to provide milk for their Gods, their babies were hardly given enough formula to survive. It was a cruel and unjust practice, but one that had endured for hundreds of years.
The Celestial babies often ended up feeling neglected by their mother, never properly bonding since they refused to feed them by their own hands or they developed a strange fixation on it, desperate to feel loved again.
You had heard about it briefly before, mentioned in passing while you were sitting with older nobles who liked to talk about their families. Since you had grown up in what they only referred to as the "underworld" you were desperate for any history you could learn to fit in better.
It didn’t occur to you just how big of an impact this tradition would have on your life until you became pregnant. Most women did not lactate until their little one was born, but for reasons not even the best doctors in the holy land could explain - your chest was swollen from the third month onwards.
This simple fact didn’t fly over your husband’s head. Perhaps you wished it did. Shamrock found you sitting in the spacious living room after your last appointment, your body curled up in a fur blanket, eyes staring straight ahead at the fireplace. There was a cup of tea you hadn’t touched alongside an unread book placed at the table near you.
"There you are, I have been looking for you all over the house," Shamrock pointed out as he walked around the sofa, his heels clicking over the floor. "Are you not feeling well, my dear?"
He bent down, arms resting on the back of the couch, he tilted his head and gently caressed your cheek. You tried to smile at him, but it came out rather forced, thanks to all the pain you felt from the little one growing in your womb.
"I'm fine, Shamrock. You worry too much," you told him, your answer was met with a deep frown.
"And now you’re lying to me," he whispered through clenched teeth and pulled away.
"Shams-" You tried to speak up, hoping to calm his temper, but he was already walking away to stand in front of the fireplace, blocking your view from the flames. He bawled his fists and even though you hated yourself for it, you pulled the blanket tighter around your chest and squeezed your back against the corner of the sofa.
"There's something I’ve been wanting to tell you," he began, folding his hands behind his back.
You sat upright, holding your belly.
"I- … I'm afraid I will become just like my father," Shamrock confessed, his voice breaking. "I don’t want you to be afraid of me, I don’t want my children to grow up despising the man they’re meant to look up to, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if-"
"Shamrock," you interrupted him softly upon seeing his hands tremble, "Come here."
Your husband hesitated, staring off into the fire as he wondered wether or not it would be safe for you to be near him. He was aware of his inhuman strength, of the short temper he had inherited from his father and of all the emotional burdens he carried on his shoulder from a stolen childhood. He swallowed then turned his head to see you holding your arms open for him and stepped forward.
The guard dog of Marie Geoise fell into your arms, carefully, making sure he didn’t rest his entire weight on you as he sat down near you and allowed you to embrace him. You stroked through his red curls, playing with them until his braid slowly fell out and you continued to scratch his scalp. A soft purring noise escaped his lips, perhaps it was more resemblant of a growl.
"Listen to me," you demanded and Shamrock gazed up at you with his crimson eyes, dangerous yet so soft, "You are nothing like your father. You do not have to repeat the sins of your family, you can make your own choices."
He sunk deeper into your hold, no matter how strong he was, or how stoic he appeared to the rest of the world, you knew you were his sanctuary. The one person in this place filled of restrictions, rules and ancient laws who loved him the way he was.
"I promise I will keep you two safe," Shamrock swore, reaching out to place his palm on your belly as he leaned in to kiss you.
"I know you will, my love," you assured him once he broke the kiss, keeping his face between your hands as he seemed to enjoy such gentle gestures from you.
Shamrock's face twitched as his eyes traveled downwards, he parted his lips in a silent gasp and you finally looked down too to see that your breasts had leaked through your blouse again. You let go of your husband's face to try and wipe away the milk, but there was no use in it. With a heavy sigh you wanted to get up, however, Shamrock had other plans for you.
"Stay, let me help," he offered and pushed you back down, he quickly realized how much force he had used and backed away like a kicked dog. "I'm sorry, I-"
"You’re alright," you breathed out, you did your best to ignore the predatory glimpse in Shamrock's pupils, the darkness he kept so well hidden was slowly seeping out.
In that moment you knew what Shamrock needed, when he was at his lowest and sought out your company, he wished to let all his walls crumble and show you true vulnerability. Such a delicate time came with it's own … special circumstances. You watched him crawl over you as you lay down on the sofa.
When his face was hovering just above your chest, he waited for your permission like a well trained dog.
"Go on, help mommy feel better."
Something switched deep inside Shamrock, his breathing quickened and his pale cheeks flushed in a barely noticeable shade of pink. He undid your blouse with poorly hidden excitement, he stopped briefly to pull his gloves off with his teeth so he could fondle your breasts with his naked hands. They were soft and well cared for, finely manicured nails touched your nipples and you squealed.
"Did I hurt you?" He wondered, his voice full of concern.
You shook your head and buried your hand in his pretty red hair.
"No, not at all … do it again, be a good boy for me," you ordered, and like the obedient dog he was, your husband obeyed.
Shamrock gifted you one of his rare smiles before he threw away all restraint and buried his face in your swollen tits, the noises he made were unbefitting of a God, primal and filled with a deep satisfaction. He had been longing for this all day, you could feel it in the eagerness of his tongue when he trapped your right nipple between his teeth and gently suckled on it.
He kept checking on you, making sure you weren’t in any pain, after all this was for both of your pleasure. Not wanting to leave your other breast unattended, he kneaded it with slow, circular motions, helping your milk to flow as he emptied the other side first.
Moans filled the room, your warm milk spilled from his lips as he drank it all up. Every last drop, even the ones running down your chest, were lapped up by him before they could be wasted. You couldn’t help but grow wet at the sensation.
"Hmm," he hummed around your nipple, "I should have done this much sooner."
You chuckled and offered your hand so he could rub his face on it.
"Don’t tell me you’ve been starving yourself all day," you replied.
Shamrock left a trail of kisses across your chest before he latched on to your other boob, silently answering your question by making you feel how hungry he had been. He had the nose of a bloodhound, he must have been walking around all day with the scent of your milk in his nostrils.
Suddenly you were pulled out of your thoughts by a jolt of pain, Shamrock had bitten you, a faint bite mark was left by him right above your areola. He paused his feeding session, confused and angry at himself he turned his head away in shame.
"Shhh, I know you can’t control it. My body is all yours to take, baby, please don’t stop," you reminded him, spreading your legs and wrapping them around his back.
Shamrock nodded and lifted your skirt so he could press his bulge against your crotch, you both knew he was in no mental state to fuck you properly, but the pressure of his cock rubbing against your clothed pussy was enough to make you squirm. He licked the bite wound in a silent apology, then shifted his attention back to your nipple. He trapped the sensitive bud in his mouth and enjoyed another fill of milk.
"Ah … hah … Shamrock," you muttered, guiding his head with your hands.
As he began to hump your crotch, his suckling turned more desperate. You pulled on his hair to encourage him to bite down a little harder, his thrusts suddenly turned erratic and you just knew that he was close to coming inside his pants.
"Such a needy boy, can’t even hold it in for your mommy?" You fought to keep your voice steady, how could any woman keep her composure when a Celestial Dragon was serving her with the purest of devotions?
Shamrock squeezed his eyes shut, he hid his face against your chest and mumbled out his messy apology. Knowing that words were no longer reaching him, you wrapped your arms around him and let him chase his high. It was no more than a quiet pant that let you know he was ruining his perfectly white riding pants with his seed.
Before you had finally been pregnant with your first child, Shamrock would have rather felt the sharpness of his own blade than wasted his semen on a guilty pleasure like this, but now that you were expecting an heir, such restrictions had become nebulous.
"Mommy's right here, hey, eyes on me," you guided him and he slowly lifted his head, he looked like a mess, a very handsome one. "Are you feeling better?"
Shamrock answered by forcing your mouth open and kissing you, sharing the taste of your own milk with you. It never took him long to regain his former strength, each time your lips clashed and he buried his tongue just a little deeper, you knew his moment of vulnerability had passed.
"Thank you," he murmured between kisses, "Now let me make you feel better too."
You happily obliged.
————————————————————————
I'm a submissive / service top Shamrock truther, that man loves to kneel in front of his partner and follow their commands. Also, no way that man doesn’t suffer from the worst kind of mommy issues, daddy issues too, definitely.
He answers a den den mushi mid fuck without stopping. You try to be good, quiet, obedient, but when his hand wraps around your throat and you moan involuntarily… the line goes silent.
a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe and akward | ++ this is my frst time writing nsfw so bear w me lolol
word count: 1k
masterlist | ko-fi
You knew this was a bad idea.
Not because it was King — you’d long since accepted the consequences of being with a man like him. A 20-foot, winged war machine with no time for softness. But because you were already on your second orgasm when he growled against your neck, voice low and amused
“That’s the Den Den Mushi. Don’t move.”
Your breath hitched. King didn’t stop.
He didn’t pull out.
His cock alone pinned your hips to the mattress, thick and heavy and still achingly hard inside you. Your thighs trembled on either side of him as he sat up slightly, adjusting his weight. The movement pushed him deeper, and your eyes rolled back.
“Fucking—K-King,” you whispered, clutching onto his waist, barely able to wrap your arms halfway around it.
You laid back on the mattress, dazed and sweaty, thighs shaking as your body twitched from your second orgasm. You could feel his cum from the first round cooling between your legs.
He leaned down to press a kiss to your neck — bare-mouthed.
The kiss made your heart flip.
King had taken his mask off before dragging you into bed, and his mouth was everything you’d imagined: firm, warm, skilled. He’d only ever kissed you like this in private, in moments like this — when his cock was inside you and your legs were shaking.
It was the only time he let himself feel.
And now the damn Den Den Mushi was ringing.
You watched his lips curl into a small, sharp smile.
“Stay still.” He reached one enormous hand over, snatched the receiver off the hook, and brought it to his ear without missing a beat — or a thrust.
“King.” His voice was low, cool, unaffected.
Your stomach dropped as he rolled his hips forward again — slow, deep, deliberate. Your pussy fluttered, painfully sensitive.
You bit your lip hard to keep quiet, but your body betrayed you, grinding up against him.
His eyes flicked down to yours, narrowed. Warning.
“Yes, the reports were handled already,” he told the person on the other end. “No errors.”
Another thrust — deeper this time.
“Nnghh—haah!” you gasped, hands flying to grip his forearms — thick, powerful, dwarfing yours.
His mouth lowered to yours — slow, dominant, breath hot — and kissed you hard.
Tongue sweeping against yours.
It was messy, wet, rough — hungry.
You moaned into the kiss.
The Den Den Mushi blinked.
“Everything alright?”
You could hear the suspicion in the voice. Jack, maybe. Your brain was too scrambled to identify it.
“’s fine,” King said casually into the Den Den Mushi between kisses, his other hand sliding between your bodies, two thick fingers pressing to your clit in slow, tight circles. “Everything’s under control.”
You couldn’t help it.
You broke away from his lips with a strangled cry, mouth wet and lips swollen. “M-mmmf—!”
The snail blinked. There was a pause.
“…Was that a voice?”
King didn’t even flinch.
Instead, his hand snapped to your throat, pressing down — not enough to choke, just enough to remind you who was in control.
His lips brushed your ear.
“If you make another fucking sound,” he whispered darkly, “I’ll hold the Den Den Mushi to your mouth and make you explain yourself to them.”
Your eyes fluttered.
You nodded frantically, trying to stay silent.
But then he started moving again — slow, full strokes of his cock stretching you to your limit. He was so thick it made your legs tremble just to feel him move inside you.
His hand stayed on your throat — fingers spread wide, thumb under your chin.
The snail blinked again.
“King...Seriously. Are you busy or—?”
You whimpered. Quiet, but not enough.
His lips crashed into yours again — swallowing your moan, tongue forcing its way past your lips as he fucked you deeper. Your arms clung to his back, nails dragging across his skin.
He bit your bottom lip.
“Not busy. Just… occupied.” He finally set the Den Den Mushi down. Didn’t hang it up.
Still live.
Still listening.
And then his thrusts turned brutal.
You yelped against his mouth, voice muffled by his tongue, arms shaking as the bed croaking under his sheer size and force. Your overstimulated pussy clenched around him like a vice.
“S-slow down, King, I c-can’t, f-fuck—I—nghh—fuck, y-you’re too big—!”
His free hand grabbed your hips and slammed you down to meet his cock, wet slapping sounds echoing against the walls.
“You wanted this,” he growled, lips brushing yours again. “You begged for it before we got back. Didn’t care who was nearby. You needed it. So you’re gonna take it.”
You were crying now — from pleasure, from pressure, from the overwhelming fullness and your own wrecked moans.
Your hands clutched his face, desperate, trembling.
You kissed him again — sloppily, hungrily — sucking on his tongue as his hips pummeled you into the mattress.
“K-King, ’m gonna—g-gonna cum—!”
“Hold it.” He tightened his grip on your throat.
You moaned, high-pitched and whimpering, hips twitching as you struggled to obey.
“Please—I c-can’t—fuck, it’s too much—!”
“F-fuck...cum for me,” he finally growled.
You screams — swallowed by his mouth as he kissed you through it — hungry and deep., body convulsing as a hot gush of slick sprayed between your thighs — soaking the sheets, soaking him, your orgasm crashing through you with violent force. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, milking him hard, thighs jerking.
And then he was cumming too — growling against your lips as he buried himself to the hilt and with one final deep thrust, he came inside you. Pulse after pulse of heat flooded your insides, thick and hot, and he stayed seated deep for a long, heavy second.
Then — slowly — he pulled out.
You whimpered. His cum spilled from your used pussy down your thighs and onto the sheets.
You were shaking. Sweaty. Sore. Your voice wouldn’t even work properly anymore — all breath and no sound.
The Den Den Mushi clicked.
Call dropped.
You stared up at him — dazed, flushed, soaked with sweat.
His hand stroked your cheek. Still unmasked. Still kissing you softly now, post-release.
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