✯Kailyn✯ @jeanixe - Tumblr Blog

SMOK'ING YOUR PUSSY

pairing : smoker x brat!reader

summary : seconds ago? he was just normally fucking you with his cock. but now? he created that thick smoke tendril, adding the thing with his cock, both of it fucking you now . . .

cw : pwp. rough/unprotected sex. dirty talk / petnames ("brat", "princess", "little star", "baby"). brat taming. light bondage. tentacle-like play (smoke tendrils). overstimulation / fem!masturbation. multiple orgasms. creampie. smoking kink / use of moku moku no mi. mild pain/pleasure mix. post-sex cuddling. banter. light ooc !smoker. no use of y/n.

wc : 2k

‎ ‎ ‎⋆ MASTERLIST

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"Christ, you’re—ngh—being such a dick about the pace tonight," you muttered, twisting the damp sheets between your fingers as Smoker's cigar smoke curled around the ceiling lamp like lazy storm clouds. The cheap bunk groaned beneath you; one of those thin Navy-issue things that barely fit a grown man, let alone a grown man currently driving into you like he wanted to splinter the frame.

His teeth flashed around the cigars, that familiar smirk you wanted to slap off him. "Funny thing to say now, don't ya think?" A particularly rough thrust punctuated the word, making your nails dig crescent moons into his shoulders. "Since you were the one who begged for this, little star."

You hissed through your teeth, equal parts irritation and pleasure, as the mattress springs protested. The room smelled sex and cedar, like the inside of his coat when he'd pinned you against the wall earlier, all heat and impatience. The sea rocked the ship in a slow, taunting rhythm, waves slapping the hull in time with his hips.

"Begged?" You rolled your eyes, though the effect was ruined when he angled deeper and your voice cracked. "I suggested—ah—you try being less of a brick wall for once—"

He chuckled, and you hated how it reverberated through you, right down to where his cock was slamming against your poor muscular tube. Hated how his hands knew exactly where to grip; one under your thigh, hiking your leg higher, the other splayed across your hipbone.

The cigars glowed when he inhaled, casting his face in flickering amber. You watched, mesmerized, as twin streams of smoke escaped his nostrils, framing his sharp features. His eyes never left yours.

"Still talking shit I see," he observed, dragging his thumb over your bitten-red lip with a certain reverence. It was kind of sweet how he could still be gentle at the same time that he was fucking you like an animal.

You nipped at his calloused finger, defiant even now. After all, you were the brat here, right? Got to maintain your role intact. "Someone’s gotta fill the silence while you—” A sharp snap of his hips stole your breath, and you were almost certain that if he kept going in and in, his cock would come out of your mouth and hit you in the face to shut you up. "—grunt like a caveman."

"Uh-huh." His free hand slid down your stomach, slow as a prowling beast, and your abdominal muscles twitched under his touch. "Sounds like you’re the one doing the grunting, princess. All those little noises… they don't come out of nowhere, eh?"

You kicked his calf weakly with your free foot; a half-hearted protest. Unfortunately, that was all you had at the moment due to your lack of... mobility here. He caught your ankle easily, pinning it to the mattress, spreading you wider like an accordion. The shift in angle punched a embarrassing punched-out noise from your throat.

Smoker’s grin turned wolfish. "There it is… like music to the ears."

"Asshole," you breathed.

He leaned down until his lips brushed your ear, stubble scratching your cheek. "Keep calling me names," he murmured, sweet as sin, "see what it gets you."

The cigar tumbled from his teeth onto the floor, forgotten. His mouth found yours instead; hot, demanding, tasting of tobacco and peppermint mouthwash. You arched into him, all arguments drowned out by the slick sound of skin on skin, by the creak of the bunk, by his mouth devouring yours in lazy frictions.

And when his smoke finally moved, twisting down your body with purpose, you stopped talking altogether. The first tendril curled around your wrist; solid enough to pin, but still warm as living breath. Another slid between your thighs, lazy as a cat stretching in sunlight, and you bucked against it instinctively.

"W...what? That's cheating, baby!" you gasped against his mouth, but the words dissolved into a moan when those smoke-fingers found your clit, circling the bud with maddening precision. Your hips stuttered, torn between arching into the touch and grinding down on his cock.

Smoker chuckled (the bastard actually chuckled in your face) and bit your lower lip, following with his tongue sliding over it to ease the pain. "Thought you liked when I played dirty in bed, princess."

Your breath hitched as the smoke curled tighter around your wrist, anchoring you to the rusted metal frame of the bunk. Another tendril (thicker this time) wound its way down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake before slipping between your thighs. It wasn’t just heat; it was him, the same way his calloused hands knew exactly where to press to make you squirm.

"Of course I like it but…ngh…how about warning a girl beforehand, uh?" you gasped again, but the protest turned into a broken moan as the tendril flicked over your clit, teasing in quick, maddening circles. Your hips jerked forward, and the conflicting sensations left you dizzy, thighs trembling with the effort of holding still.

Smoker didn’t let up. Weird it would be if he actually did. His mouth trailed down your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point as he murmured against your skin. "Shoulda known you’d bitch even when I’m givin’ you exactly what you asked for. Little brat. Nothing's really enough to you, eh?"

You would’ve snapped back (you hadn’t asked for his damn devil fruit to join the party) but then the tendril pulsed, thickening just enough to press harder against your clit, and your retort dissolved into a strangled cry. Your nails scrabbled against the smoke binding your wrist, but it held firm, unyielding as the man himself.

"Fuck—fuuuck !" you choked out, back arching off the mattress. The coil in your gut tightened dangerously, pleasure building too fast, too much. You tried to keep your thighs open, trying to fit his two cocks (one, technically, metaphorical) inside you. "I can’t—ah—I can’t, Smokey—"

"Sure you can, baby. You’re already takin’ it. Look at you... so greedy…. this brave little cunt’s swallowing both my “cocks” so well now," he rumbled, dragging his lips back up to yours, giving you something to distract yourself with. The remaining cigar tumbled from his mouth, forgotten, as he kissed you hard enough to bruise. His tongue swept against yours, tasting your ragged breaths, and you whimpered into his mouth when he rolled his hips again. The tendril moved with him, mimicking the way his fingers would curl inside you.

Even if you tried to hold back for an extra minute or so, this was indeed… too fucking much for you.

The orgasm hit like a storm surge: sudden, violent, tearing through you with enough force to make your vision whiten at the edges. Your entire body locked up, muscles taut as rigging in a gale, and for one dizzying second, you forgot how to breathe. The only thing anchoring you was Smoker’s weight, the solid press of his chest against yours as you shuddered violently beneath him.

He didn’t stop while you were melting beneath him. Because he was still there... trying to reach his own peak too.

Even as you gasped, oversensitive and shaking, he kept moving, his thrusts slow but relentless. The smoke-tendril gentled stroking your clit in lazy, soothing circles, but the pressure never eased. His breath was ragged against your ear, his own control fraying at the edges. "C’mon," he groaned, voice rough as a ship's rope, intoxicated with neediness. "One more. For me, little star."

You groaned in a weak form of protest, but your hips lifted anyway, chasing the friction he needed even as your body trembled with exhaustion. The second peak came slower, building in waves until it crashed over you with less force but twice the sweetness, leaving you boneless and gasping.

Smoker followed soon after, his rhythm stuttering before he buried himself deep with a low groan, his semen spurting in hot jets inside you, filling you up like an empty cup. His big body melts, his forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath hot and uneven against your skin as he rode out the aftershocks. For a long moment, the only sounds were the creak of the ship, the distant call of gulls, and the ragged harmony of your breathing.

Then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you nudged his shoulder with your chin. "Told you I could take whatever you dished out, old man."

He lifted his head just enough to glare at you, but the effect was ruined by the way his mouth twitched at the corners. "Brat," he muttered, rolling off you with a grunt. The smoke-tendrils dissipated, leaving your wrists free, though the ghost of their warmth lingered on your skin.

You stretched, wincing at the ache in your muscles, then flopped onto your side to face him. His hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and you reached out to smooth a wayward lock behind his ear; just so you could watch him scowl at the gesture. ah, it never gets old.

"Next time," you said, grinning when he narrowed his eyes at you, pretending to look angry, "try keeping up with me. It's a bit annoying being the only one who can actually handle the pressure."

Smoker exhaled sharply through his nose before reaching over to pluck the fallen cigar from the floor. He rolled onto his back, letting the bunk take his full weight with a protesting creak, and stuck the cigar between his teeth without bothering to relight it. "Next time," he muttered around it, "I'll let you do all the work. See how long that smart mouth lasts, since you say you're much better than me."

You snorted, stretching your legs out just to nudge your toes against his thigh. "Promises, promises, babe. You're all bark and no bite." Through the porthole, the first hints of dawn painted the sky in watery blues and pinks, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets.

Woah… who would have guessed you two would spend the whole night fucking!?

His hand found yours without looking, calloused fingers lacing through yours in a gesture so casual it made your chest ache. You stared at your joined hands—his knuckles scarred from a hundred brawls, yours still trembling slightly from exertion—and something warm unfurled beneath your ribs. It was stupid, really, how such a small thing could undo you more thoroughly than any of his smoke-tendrils or even his cock ever had.

"You're thinking too loud again, little star" Smoker grumbled, thumb tracing idle circles over your pulse point. He always knew when you were getting too lost in your own mind.

"Just wondering if the Marines teach all their vice admirals to fuck like they're trying to win a war or it's just you," you shot back, but there was no bite to it. Your voice came out softer than intended, frayed at the edges in a way that had nothing to do with exhaustion and everything to do with this man beside you.

He turned his head to look at you then, cigar bobbing as he spoke. And the smirk he gave you was pure mischief wrapped in masculine charm. "Only the ones who get stuck babysitting insubordinate little—"

The rest of the insult dissolved into a grunt as you rolled on top of him, straddling his hips with deliberate slowness. His hands came to rest on your waist automatically, as you plucked the cigar from his mouth and took a long drag. The smoke curled around your tongue, before you blew it directly into his face.

His eyes narrowed. "haha real mature, baby."

You grinned, leaning down until your noses brushed. His eyes, from that distance, were like puddles of hot chocolate. "Learned from the best, old man."

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. The ship groaned around you, the distant shouts of the morning watch mingling with the cry of seabirds. Then Smoker's hands slid up your back, pulling you down until your chests pressed together. His mouth found yours in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness, all rough edges and raw feelings, and you melted into it like you hadn't spent the last hour trying to out-stubborn him.

When he finally pulled back, his breath warm against your lips, he muttered, "Go to sleep, brat. Don't want you all grumpy and bitching in the morning."

You sighed dramatically but curled against his side anyway, tucking your head under his chin. His arm settled around your shoulders, heavy and solid, and you closed your eyes to the sound of his heartbeat.

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