#inappropriate use of haki

[allthatmay]

i like to think shanks hakis is the only one that has that typa effect on ace, and that while shanks has encountered others who are quite ... (sexually) sensitive to his haki, none of them react like ace does. makes them seem as soulmates or sum.

Absolutely! Personally, I think haki has a lot to do with intentions, right? So this comes out in a few different ways:

Yes, some people are totally more sexually sensitive to haki than others, but the user of the haki has to be channelling that intention... That is, unless someone grows so used to another person's haki [in that way] that it's erotic to them regardless of the intent of the user (such as in Chapter 3 of TCoH when Shanks is on deck of the Moby Dick intending to warn the Whitebeards but Ace is turned on by it).

The more powerful someone is, the more they can separate their intentions among people. Say, for instance, there's a crowd of people? A powerful user could probably pick and chose which ones to target with haki, and how.

Depending on how the affected person feels for the user, some intentions are easier to resist than others. For instance, Ace is attracted to Shanks, so it's harder for him to resist Shanks' haki when it has sexual intentions.

Also, if haki is all about exerting some form of control over someone, then it would totally be good for soft mind-control stuff. But I digress.

[lady-lauren]

❥ SHANKS X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: forced orgasms, some yandere vibes, dub-con to be safe, very inappropriate use of conqueror's haki, power dynamics (captain/crew), praise, creampie, Shanks is so mean but so good and I would die for him

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“You’re gonna cum for me, darlin’, even if I have to take it from you.”

The weight of his words curl around your throat like a vice, blood pumping in your ears you until can barely hear his boisterous laugh. 

The smile he gives is so cheshire, so oddly genuine, it makes a shiver of fear run down the back of your neck. Perhaps it’s actually pleasure, but the emotions are too entangled for your brain to piece apart your state of mind. 

He’s not letting you go this time, not until he gets what he wants. 

“Shanks,” you plead, nails gripping into the black fabric of his cloak, “we shouldn’t, you’re my captain, and I—”

“And your captain knows what’s best for you. Promise.”

The playful lilt in his voice is disarming. 

He always lures you in so easily, and usually you can squirm away, calm your raging heart and pretend like you’re not the object of his desires. Because you shouldn’t be, you can’t be, you’re honor bound to serve him as your captain and you refuse to let lust cloud your relationship to Shanks. He helped make you a pirate. You’re more than a mistress.

Yet he’s already stripped you bare for him tonight, easy work for one of the most powerful men on the seas.

Warm lips press into your cheek as you turn your face from him, gritting your teeth as you deny his kiss.

Shanks chuckles in the face of your defiance, squishing his fingers into your cheeks to make you look at him. 

“You know, you really are cute, thinking you can stop me. Besides, don’t you want to follow Captain’s orders, hm? That’s why I picked you—you’re so loyal, always willing to please. But you should please and be pleased.”

His eyes close with a sincere smile, the pink scars nearly shining in the firelight of his room.

Perhaps you do forget sometimes how weak you are compared to him, to the man who can cut down enemies with a single gaze. 

Trapped between his colossal body and the wall, you have nowhere to run, no way to slink off and keep only ghosts of his touches. He’s going to make you feel every moment.

“Want me to show you how good I can make you feel?” 

“Trust me, I know, I know how good you’d feel, but I can’t—”

“You have no idea.”

Somehow he feels closer, as if the sun-kissed skin of his chest from his parted shirt is already blending into yours. He is darkness clouding over you, engulfing you.

He cups your chin with his hand, big fingers spilling down onto your neck. He slants his mouth over yours before you can protest, moving plush lips until you can’t help but moan. Spiced rum, aged and smooth, greets you when his tongue slides between parted lips. He kisses like a dance, like a back and forth that he leads.

“Breathe,” he whispers, and you don’t have to ask why. You sense his conqueror’s haki in the air before you feel the power lick at your skin, dragging and pulling and hot. 

“Cum for me.”

Lightning quick, your tummy tightens, the pleasure centers of your brain on overload as he overtakes you. Desire boils down to your cunt like a poisonous liquid heat, unbearable, sinful, yet so, so blissful as your pussy flutters and you fall over the crest of orgasm. 

“Fuck! Oh, fuck you, fuck, fuck…” Your eyes squeeze closed as the ecstasy is literally ripped from your body, like he somehow sunk his hand inside your core and extracted all the delight he craves. 

“Doesn’t that feel good?”

You can’t help but nod, because yes, it does, as if pleasure is bursting like supernovas underneath your skin. Your hands are clinging to him, one around the back of his neck, the other beneath his shirt, like you can’t help but be closer to the source of your heat.

“Shanks, I…” your tongue is so thick in your mouth, searching for words you can’t think of.

“Now imagine just how fucking good you’ll feel when you do that on my cock.” 

“Please, oh, god, please.”

His famous laugh greets your ears and you’re almost knocked back to the reality of who has you in his grasp. 

“That’s my girl.” 

You’re in his bed before you know it, eyes glassy at the sight of his naked body. You knew he’d be beautiful, but the actual view of him, on his knees, pumping his cock in his hand while between your legs has you whining.

“What’s going on in your pretty little head? Tell me.” 

“I…want you, so badly, and I-I’m sorry for pushing you away. I never—”

He shushes you, takes his hand from his cock so he can brush the back of his finger across your cheek, “You were just doing what you thought was right. Didn’t wanna just be my plaything, did you? I know you wanted to be my strong little pirate, but you can be both.” 

“Promise?” 

“Swear it.” He grins like a little boy as he mockingly draws an X across his heart with his finger. 

How can someone so deadly be so adorable?

Your instincts are flaring again, telling you to run, that once he sinks his claws into you, you’ll only ever be his. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad, especially not with how good it feels when he buries his hand between your thighs, fingers playing in your wetness. 

Shanks is equal parts messy and methodical, swirling his fingers around in your slick folds before rubbing his thumb over your already sensitive clit. You cry out, back arching and nails digging so deeply in his pillows you swear you hear fabric rip.

“Think I made you wet enough to take my cock already, don’t you?” 

To prove his point, he slides his slick-drenched fingers between your lips, letting you taste yourself. You nod your affirmation as you suck against his skin, his eyes shining as you wrap your tongue around his fingers.

You eye his cock between his legs, preening at the thought of having him inside you. His cock is pretty, fat, already leaking and veins straining beneath silken skin. Red curls crawl up his toned stomach and you nearly drool around his fingers. 

All you ever wanted was to be a pirate, but the sight of your captain’s cock has you content to be a whore.

“Been dreamin’ about you in my sheets ever since I found you, darlin’. Knew you were the one for me, my perfect girl.”

“Oh please,” you gasp as he draws his fingers from your mouth, dragging them down to your tit so he can pinch your nipple, “you know what praise does to me, Shanks.”

“Of course I do,” he sing-songs, grasping his dick and pushing his tip between your folds. He presses in, a cant of his hips shoving his cock halfway into your dripping hole. Your head falls back at the stretch, cooing at the feel of him. 

Shanks is clearly done chasing you, mindset moved to capture, to take. He bottoms out and immediately starts moving, grinning as he watches your pussy lips drag along his length. 

He wolf-whistles at the sight, making you flush with a strange mixture of embarrassment and pride. “Look at that pretty fucking pussy. So slutty already for me.”

Strong fingers push your thigh back, spreading you wide as he starts his pace. 

“Now,” Shanks clicks his tongue against his teeth, “let’s see what it feels like when I make you cum around my cock.” 

“You don’t, ah,” you gasp as his cockhead prods against a soft spot, “h-have to make me, I’ll—” 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?” 

There’s no time to think, not with how fast he acts, a simple look into your eyes has you shattering until you scream. The pleasure claws from your depths all over again, more intense now that your cunt has his fat cock to convulse around. You suck him in deep as you fall, bliss blooming over every nerve ending. Your toes curl, your nails cut into his shoulders, your stomach nearly hurts from the twisting of your orgasm. 

“God damn, you feel so fucking good when you do that, get so tight around me.” 

“Sh-Sha—mhm, fuck,” you try to protest, to say something, but the way his body moves into yours is like the mesmeric waves, lulling you into a headspace of drifting euphoria. 

He’s all over you—hand in your hair, tongue sliding down your neck, lips sucking at the fat of your tits, teeth scraping along your curves. He’s all encompassing, snaking his arm behind your back until you're pressed against his thick chest and rocking with every thrust.

The orgasms have made you numb, all you feel is pure carnality, like now you just exist to fuck and be fucked.

For a moment you wonder if he’s still forcing it on you, but you decide you don’t care. He’s the only one who can make you feel like this, haki or no.

Shanks brushes his nose down your cheek, lips hot and wet as he kisses your skin, “Touch me, baby, be with me.” 

Like puppetry, your hands trace his musculature, taking note of how his shoulders roll with every push and how his abdominal muscles stiffen whenever your cunt spasms from pleasure.

You kiss over the freckles on his shoulder, down to the thick bicep he no longer wraps in bandages. 

He groans as your lips get close to where his arm used to be, a purr from deep in his chest like you’re too close to something vulnerable.

“Gonna take from you again, darlin.’ Gotta feel your cunt suck me dry.” 

“N-no I can—I can do it, I can cum for you, promise.” 

“Mhm, where’s the fun in that when I can just make you?”

His hand snakes around your body, letting you sink into the bed free of his hold. He teases your clit just because he can, because he likes watching you wiggle and writhe and whine beneath him.

You suck in a sob, “Please, just a little more, more, and I—”

Shanks’ haki feels like the warm licks of familiar fire. He burns because you let him too close, stared too long at the flames. 

You’re sure he purposely brings the assault of his conqueror's power on slower, lets it bleed and blend with the ecstasy building from the sensitive pressure on your clit. 

This crest is bigger, fuller, like you’ve been thrown from the Red Force into the toiling dark ocean. Only it’s boiling, scorching and tugging the pleasure from deep within your belly. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back and whine, “too hot.” 

Shanks groans deep from his chest, fingers pausing on your clit as he feels you cum around him. His thighs shake, cock twitching and throbbing. Mean fingers dig into the softness of your belly like he’s clinging to sanity, holding himself back just enough to be in control. 

“One more, baby.”

He starts thrusting again, a slow grind into your depths that has red curls kneading into your clit. You feel him in your guts, your heart, like the beat of blood in your veins. 

“C-can’t, god, can’t, please.” Please no. Please yes. You’re back in an entanglement of emotions where no way is up, the sun still so far from underneath the waves.

Shanks buries his face in your neck, red hair fanning like embers across overheated skin. 

He sucks at your pulse, flesh between his lips, “yes you can, my good girl. For me.” 

You’re slammed into a new atmosphere, floating for seconds before being dragged back down, down to where you feel details of your name whispered against your throat and the pulsing of a thick cock as ropes of cum spill into tight, gummy walls. 

“Fuuuucckk, oh g-god, Shanks, hurts, so good, shit—”

You babble until your mouth runs dry, anchored by your captain’s bruising grasp on your hip. He has you flush against his body, heavy breaths syncing as you both float up from hell.

It’s like waking up from a dream when he starts kissing you, all feather-light and reverent. He sits up and his lopsided smile seems so sincere. 

“So proud of you, really thought you were gonna pass out there for a second.” He laughs playfully, blowing a stray red hair from his face. 

All you do is whine and shift your sore hips, gasping at the feel of his cock still hard and deep inside you. 

You’re not sure how much time passes before he pops his dick out—your heart beats are too erratic to count as seconds. 

He sinks praises into your skin, kissing down your breasts, your belly, making you jerk when he kisses the mound of your pussy. 

His breath is hot on your clit. That feeling has your mind shattering like porcelain, a sharp smack centering you straight back into reality. You sit up and stare at the scene before you, sharp-eyed prey watching a predator in the forest. 

“Shanks, no, please, for the love of god—” 

“No no no no, it’s okay,” he coos from between your legs, eyes closing and head cocking to the side as he smiles, “I’m not gonna take this one from you. Promise. Gonna let you do it all by yourself, nice and slow.” 

It’s easy to forget that Shanks is a bad liar when he shoves his pretty face down to eat his cum from your pussy. 

[vespidphoenix]

Entirely at your service

Tag list: @fanaticsnail @turtletaubwrites @weaversofnulbundin

It's Sanji's turn to stay on the Thousand Sunny while the rest of the Straw Hats explore a new island, so he makes his way up to the crow's nest for his watch. He is pleasantly surprised in more ways than one by what, or rather who, he finds up there.

Notes: NSFW, minors begone, lots of swearing, friends to lovers, porn with feelings, idiots in love, chubby OC, some angst, lots of fluff, praise kink, breast worship, consent really is sexy, inappropriate(?) use of observation haki, etc; word count 6.3k

AN: Baby's first fan fiction! Ya girl can have a little a shameless self-insert, as a treat. I've only seen OPLA and I'm not past the East Blue in the manga/anime yet, but I've done my best to keep everything consistent with canon.

AN 2: I use French as the language of the Celestial Dragons, and both Sanji and Amy are fluent. Most of the time, I'll put the English words in brackets at the end of the paragraph, but there are some recurring phrases that I'll leave untranslated: mère bleue is 'blue mother', as in Mother Ocean; merde is 'shit'; mon amour, chérie, and ma chère are endearments

Chapter One: you are here! | Next chapter | Masterlist

Edit: read this chapter on ao3!

(Banner courtesy of @cafekitsune)

As soon as the hatch leading to the crow’s nest clangs shut, Sanji sets his snack tray on the floor mats and collapses with a dramatic groan. 

“Fuck me raw,” he sighs.

“As appealing as that sounds, that’s gonna have to wait another couple days per Chopper’s advice,” a feminine voice deadpans behind him.

Sanji sits upright with a start, nearly knocking over his water bottle. “Mère bleue!” he exclaims as he turns to face his crew mate; “for some reason I thought you were in the landing party today.”

Amy’s reply is drowned out by the pounding of Sanji’s heart when he blinks and notices just how casually she is dressed. He recognizes her sarong as a recent gift from a grateful cloth merchant—he would stand by the assertion that everything looked good on Nami, the original recipient, but he’d have to agree with her that it suited their crew’s interpreter better—and the crocheted halter top as Amy’s own handiwork. He feels a sudden itch to find out for himself just how soft a yarn she chose for this particular work of art…

For lack of a mirror, Amy could not see what her face looked like; but she imagined that if she could, her eyes would be wide and sparkling with mischief. It’s certainly the feeling she always seems to get whenever she’s face-to-face with the handsome blond before her: a grin pressing at her cheeks to escape through the seam of lips pressed together, eyelids spread as if to take in more of him.

(Sometimes, she reckons she could spread other parts of herself for that purpose, if she thought him willing to put his money where his mouth always seems to go.)

“I’m not complaining, mind you,” she continues to say, “but this is the third—no, fourth time in a row!”

Sanji gulps and shakes the slightly-glazed expression from his face. “I’m sorry, can you say that again? I was…distracted by your beauty.” He winks one piercing blue eye, and skepticism be damned, she feels heat creeping over her body and pooling between her legs.

Amy rolls her eyes and fidgets with her sarong in lieu of making a snarky comment about blindfolds.

“As I was saying while you were ogling me, I was going to be one of the landing party, but Nami insisted on having Usopp join her in mapping the island because my handwriting is so much better than his, so I should be the one to help you with inventory. She’s not wrong, per se, but this is the third or fourth time in a row this has happened, and part of me wants to call bullshit.”

“Part of you? What about the rest of you?” Sanji asks, resolutely fixing his gaze on Amy’s eyes instead of letting it drift to her bust or the soft rolls of her exposed torso.

This time it’s Amy’s turn to deliver a blush-inducing wink. “The rest of me is simply happy to be spending time with you.”

“Well, lucky for us, sweetheart, I took the liberty of doing inventory earlier this morning so that Miss Nami would have a grocery list,” Sanji replies after taking a deep breath, “so I am…entirely at your service.” 

Entirely at your service. The words tickle Amy as she takes in Sanji’s shirtless form, supine once more and sporting that megawatt grin. As her gaze trickles down from his abs to those steel-hard thighs, she can’t even bring herself to be annoyed by how smug he looks; Mother Ocean knows how handsome he knows he is, how hard he’s worked to earn those well-toned—

“Have I rendered you speechless, mademoiselle?”

Sanji’s voice, sultry and teasing, interrupts her train of thought.

Entirely at your service.

Sanji knows he’s close to some sort of victory when Amy’s face flushes even more deeply and she still doesn’t answer right away. There’s something uniquely thrilling about fencing with words and looks the way Mosshead trains with Wado Ichimonji—maneuvering, testing, anticipating, parrying, scoring—and he reckons it has to do with the way both parties win something if one goes about it correctly.

He watches and sits up as Amy walks around to his front before she settles next to the tray of snacks. His heart thumps harder in his chest the same way that foolish thing does every time they’re in such close proximity, not quite touching but close enough that he wouldn’t even need to fully extend his arm were he to caress her cheek—

“You don’t need to sit up on my account, handsome. Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer later, but right now maybe I’ll serve you some—how does that sound?” Amy plucks a single grape from the cluster and holds it above his mouth.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

It’s not often Sanji allows himself to contemplate what he might do with such an offer. As a child, he’d served in order to live; as an adolescent and now as an adult, he lives to serve. But sometimes it occurs to him that letting someone serve him instead can itself be an act of…well…service.

(It will take some time before he allows himself even to think the word ‘love’ in place of ‘service’, and longer still before he allows himself to speak it; but it’s there, waiting like a daffodil bulb in early March for safe conditions to bloom.)

There will be time for Sanji to unpack all of this later, when a beautiful woman is not offering him a grape that looks as sweet and delicious as the person holding it, looking at him with the inviting heat of an onsen—or perhaps it is the sort of hunger that no amount of grapes can quench but he might be able to satisfy anyway. 

All Blue forbid he keep a lady waiting. He lowers himself back onto the floor mats and opens his mouth.

“Good boy,” Amy teases in her best attempt at a sultry purr, frowning when Sanji gives her a strange look and shifts uncomfortably instead of rolling his eyes. “Sorry, does my femme fatale impression need work? Too over-the-top, not campy enough, too demeaning?”

“No, that was—no, no, you’re fine,” he replies, suddenly a little breathless. “How about that grape?”

If Amy notices the hunger filling both his mind and his gym shorts, she mercifully does not comment on it.

There’s a look in Sanji’s eyes that, if she didn’t know better, Amy might call naked desire, and the idea renders her dizzy with want, or it could be dehydration—she’s not sure, not in this weather. She drops the grape in Sanji’s waiting mouth, pats his jaw, and gets up to let a breeze in through a window.

She can hear the slight frown in Sanji’s voice when he calls, “Are you alright, darling? Can I get you something to drink? I think I saw a fountain somewhere…”

“You’re not beating the waiter allegations from Zoro anytime soon, are you?” Amy chuckles, the cooler air having relieved her flustered state.

“He can call me a scullion for all I care; it’s a small price to pay to see you satisfied.” The chef curses under his breath; there are no spare cups up here, so sharing his canteen will have to suffice. He brings it to Amy with an apologetic smile.

She takes a sip and smiles gratefully, and allows her eyes once again to wander over Sanji’s chiseled body. “I have a tall glass of water to drink from, and that’s a good place to start.”

Sanji draws a sudden breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Keep talking like that, and we might not get to finish the snacks I brought up.”

A wicked grin spreads over Amy’s face, and Sanji knows he’s fallen into his own trap.

“How about I help you finish your snack, and you help me finish mine?”

He groans and tilts his head back, and the creeping heat that became smoldering want is stoked into flame by the huskiness of his voice, by the way his neck seems further exposed, there for the kissing—

“Say the word, Amy, and all of it is yours.”

Amy merely smiles. She steps past him, hooking an arm around the far side of his waist as she goes; when he spins around to face her once again, she tugs on the hand suddenly holding hers.

“You gonna have a seat or what?” she asks, nodding toward the tray.

A moment’s hesitation, and Sanji steps forward into the gap between them.

“Are you gonna call me a good boy if I do?” he asks almost under his breath, just above a whisper.

They’re standing so, so close together now, Sanji is sure Amy can feel his breath on her forehead and the place where his shorts are almost too tight to contain him—because she might have called him a tall glass of water, but to him her eyes are Dressrosi kahlua, and he is so drunk on her gaze he would confess to a lot more than his longings, just for another shot.

“I can call you anything you like,” she breathes, “when I am entirely at your service.”

Their lips meet now in a kiss that, for all the repartee and flirtation that preceded it, is gentle and unhurried, a moment to be savored. After a few moments they pull apart, all smiles, long enough for Sanji to remark:

“I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be my line.”

The pair dissolve into giggles and quick pecks as Sanji finally lays himself down beside the snacks.

To his left, recumbent and supporting herself on one arm, Amy realizes her mistake and gestures to the tray. "Would you mind passing me those?" she asks.

"I thought you were supposed to be serving me," he replied with a mock pout and still-twinkling eyes. 

"I was always taught it was impolite to reach directly across someone's personal space." Amy raises an eyebrow, still looking amused.

Gently, tentatively, as if reaching out to pet a cat, Sanji places his left hand on the small of her back. The hitch in Amy's breath at his touch and the way her eyes widen send a tingling sensation down his spine, straight to his groin. He flashes her the most charming smile he can muster.

"Chérie, in case I haven't made it clear, I want you in my personal space; and unless I am reading you wrong, in which case I apologize sincerely..." He begins to remove his hand.

"No, no, keep doing that—"

(Amy almost doesn't recognize that plaintive voice as her own, but the way his broad palm spread across her back and the soothing way he moved his thumb in little circles have seared themselves into her mind like an addiction.)

Sanji, that smug, sexy bastard, grins and does as he is told.

“…if I am not mistaken, you want me in your personal space, too.” 

Amy is speechless for a moment with an embarrassment she can’t quite explain, but she knows exactly how to get back at Sanji. With his hand back in its place holding her, she smiles sweetly and says:

“Thank you…”

—she moves not only to reach across him for the food, but also to straddle him entirely, which she is sure was his plan to begin with; but then she leans her head close to his, and her smile turns impish—

“…or should I say ‘good boy’?”

Pulling her waist closer with one hand and pushing himself up from the floor with the other arm, Sanji kisses Amy again, trailing along her jawline with an unmistakable urgency.

“Mon amour,” he pleads, “laisse-moi te montrer ce que tu m’inspires…” [Let me show you what you inspire in me...]

“Ho-hold on, lover boy,” Amy gasps, giving the smallest yelp when his hand squeezes a plush asscheek and presses her body against his hardness. “Don’t forget what you came here to do. We don’t—fuck—we don’t waste food.” She pushes against Sanji’s chest and hopes he can see the sympathetic reluctance in her face.

He whimpers. Sanji whimpers, and the sound of it is almost enough to break her resolve; but she knows that if he loved anything in the world more than women, it would be food alone. She presses her forehead to his and a gentle kiss to his nose.

“We don’t waste food.”

If Sanji didn’t know better, he’d think he was dreaming. If he’s dreaming, then woe betide the person who wakes him up, he thinks.

The afternoon sun backlights Amy’s head like a halo, and the breeze through the window causes her brown hair to flutter like a curtain or a sacred veil. Sanji thanks whatever deities are listening—for surely the vision above him is divine in source as well as appearance—for every person before him who fumbled their chance at the privilege that is now his. Hell if he knows what a rejected-princeling-turned-pirate-cook could possibly offer that is worthy of a goddess like this; but he would devote himself to her, be her high priest, beg her to take him as her throne—anything for the heaven in her embrace, if she would only let him.

We don’t waste food.

The reminder nudges Sanji out of his angst, and he grins. “Let’s have those snacks, then, before we get carried away and fill up on something else.”

He gives Amy one more kiss on her lips, chaste yet searing, and lets her go.

The absence of his hand on her waist feels like a loss, until she sits back to reach for the grapes and feels something pressing below her tailbone. She exchanges a knowing smile with the man pinned beneath her, handsome as a demigod.

“You know, if we share those snacks, they’ll be gone faster,” he muses, before dropping his voice even lower. “Then you and I can have our ways with each other.”

“Someone’s eager.” Amy winks and picks up a piece of bruschetta.

“Eager to please you, eager to serve you, eager to feel you in the throes of bliss—yes, I am eager, and you deserve an eager lover, Amy.”

Amy looks stunned. Sanji gestures to the bread slice in her hand.

“Mind telling me how that bruschetta tastes?” he asks. “I used a different combination of cheese and seasoning since we couldn’t find any mozzarella in the last port.”

You deserve an eager lover.

Amy knows this to be true, knows that a lack of sex is better than mediocre sex; but knowing is one thing, and hearing a would-be lover echo the sentiment is another. Not only that: Sanji says it with such conviction, as if pleading with her to believe it too. It's refreshing. Arousing.

So...maybe she leans forward a bit more than necessary when she brings a morsel to Sanji's waiting mouth, and delights in the way his noises of appreciation seem to be as much for the heft of her breasts as for the acidic tang of the diced tomatoes. Maybe she grinds her bottom on his clothed cock just a little when she reaches for another handful of grapes, and smiles with the knowledge that his moaning isn't only for the bursts of sweetness on his tongue. Maybe she is uncommonly thorough when licking the sticky tangerine juice off his fingers.

Entirely at your service.

Maybe I’ll serve you some.

Swimming as their heads are with heady lust, it takes Sanji and Amy by surprise when they find the snack tray empty. They stare at it in silence for a long moment, before—

“Should I, uh—”

“That went more—”

“No, sorry, you go—”

“You go—”

Sanji sits up, laughing, and Amy kneels in front of him, head cocked to one side.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any condoms on you, or know whether Zoro keeps any up here?” Amy asks quietly.

“Hm? I think Mosshead keeps all his in his belt thing; Franky’s shooting blanks and exclusive with Miss Robin, so they don’t need any—”

“Wait, how does Franky know…”

“Apparently the Surgeon of Death also does vasectomies from time to time—wish I’d thought of that the last time we ran into them.”

“Damn. But do you have any?” Amy asks, leaning closer and poking him gently.

Sanji sighs deeply. “Don’t got any rubbers on me, but I keep some in the bunk room…”

“Hmmm, mais je ne peux plus attendre.” With her left hand on his right cheek, Amy pulls Sanji in for a lingering kiss. “J’ai besoin de toi maintenant.” [but I can't wait anymore; I need you now]

“Fuck, Amy,” Sanji groans between hungry, open-mouthed kisses, “how’m I supposed to resist you when you talk to me all sweet like that?” He slides a hand just above the waist of her sarong for emphasis, and cautiously slips a couple fingertips between fabric and skin.

Amy allows her fingernails to lightly scrape his skin as her free hand finds his spine; the hand already on his face threads through his hair. “You’re not supposed to resist me,” she murmurs into his jawline as she pulls his head back to expose his neck. “You’re supposed to forget about that snack tray, forget about our crewmates”—she places a cluster of kisses along his neck—“and enjoy some time alone with your lover—”

Your lover. The words send shivers coursing over Sanji’s skin.

“—just…enjoy yourself for a while.” She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and allows one hand to drift down to his waistband.

“Well, when you put it like that—merde, ça me sens bien—let me at least put a towel down for us?” Sanji reluctantly extracts himself from Amy, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand when he catches a pout on her lovely face. [that feels good]

“Make it quick, mon amour…vraiment, j’ai besoin de toi…” [truly, I need you]

Sanji pulls a couple towels from a nearby rack, drapes the larger one so that it flows from the bottom step onto the floor, and sets the smaller one beside it. Approaching Amy, he holds a hand out to her with the air of a gentleman at a ball asking a lady to dance. She takes it and pulls herself up to stand in front of him.

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” she asks with an adoring smile.

Sanji cups her face in both of his hands and looks her in the eyes. “We can stop at any time and it won’t cause problems between us, y’know that, right? I want this to be enjoyable for both of us.”

Amy lets her eyes flick down to Sanji’s parted lips before meeting his gaze. “What would really be enjoyable right now is you kissing me…”

“So needy,” he teases, but obliges Amy anyway.

“‘Needy’? The love cook calls me ‘needy’?” she replies with mock outrage. “You’re the one who tricked me into straddling you and got so horny over a simple pet name that you reverted to Celestial!”

Sanji gives her a mischievous smile and another peck. “You stepped into the trap very willingly, though, didn’t you?” Another kiss, lingering a moment, and he adds: ��And I know for a fact you loved it when I switched languages.”

“Quoi d’autre peux-tu faire avec ta langue, hmm?” Amy whispers against Sanji’s lips. [What else can you do with your tongue]

“S’il te plaît, chérie,” he whispers in kind, his fingers dancing lightly along one arm as he lifts it to his shoulder, “je peux te démontrer…” [If it please you, I can demonstrate]

Suddenly he bends down, and with a grunt he lifts Amy by her thighs, one on either side of his waist. He sets her down on the towel.

No sooner does Sanji let go of her legs than Amy is on him, gripping his face with both hands and kissing him voraciously. 

“That’s so—ungh—so fucking hot, Sanji,” she moans. “Fuck, you’re strong.”

“You’re not that heavy, are you?” Sanji manages to say between kisses—not that he’s complaining. “Ten stone, twelve?”

“Fourteen last I checked,” Amy murmurs into his chin. “You’re so good at what you do, I’m always hungry for more.”

Sanji chuckles at her double entendre. “Fourteen’s nothin’, long as I let my legs do the work.”

“Definitely the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” Amy sucks lightly at the base of Sanji’s neck, and almost erases his train of thought completely.

“Merde—since your own, of course, right?” He places his hands on her knees and ever-so-slowly moves them upward.

“Mmm, naturally,” Amy murmurs, more interested in Sanji’s collarbone.

“Are you even listening right now?” Sanji asks, grinning with amusement as he pulls away. He laughs when Amy makes a whining noise and chases him with her lips.

“Your tongue is doing way too much talking, lover boy. Starting to think maybe you’re all talk.”

Sanji narrows his eyes.

Before Amy has time even to discern anything from his smile, Sanji’s gripping the back of her head in one hand and nudging her mouth open with his tongue. His other hand slides higher along her thighs, tantalizingly close to where she suddenly realizes she needs his touch the most. She moans into Sanji’s hungry mouth, the noise sounding more like a whimper than she would have liked to admit were she clear-minded; but her senses are consumed with him, and she can’t bring herself to care. His appreciative groans are like held notes on a saxophone; he smells of musky cologne and sweat in a way that registers as the essence of virility in the back of her mind; he electrifies her skin with the slightest contact; she can taste fruit and spice on his tongue, and—

“Sanj, there’s something metal in your mouth, is that a piercing or…?”

Amy leans back to peer into Sanji’s grinning mouth, and sure enough, the frenulum is pierced with a horseshoe bar.

She puts her arms around his neck and pulls him close again. “You know, I’d heard you described as having a silver tongue,” she teases, her lips a hair’s breadth from his, “but I didn’t think Nami and Usopp were being serious.”

Sanji kisses her again, delicate and sweet like a meringue. “It’s surgical steel, love, but I appreciate the sentiment.” He chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes fondly.

“Now, why don’t we go back to your talent show?” she suggests.

“A show, hmm? I’ve never tried exhibitionism, but we can talk kinks later, sure.”

“You know what I meant!” Amy laughs, giving Sanji’s shoulder a playful backhand.

“Oh, yes, that’s right: the talent show in which I”—Sanji places one more kiss on Amy’s smiling mouth—“pleasure this lovely lady”—he whispers before kissing behind her ear and sliding his hands to the laces of her top—“with my tongue until she”—loosens the knot holding the halter-neck in place and nips an exposed shoulder, prompting her to buck against him—“begs me to make her cum on my face.” He presses his face into her cleavage, and looks up to gauge her expression. “That one?”

Amy combs a hand through Sanji’s corn-silk hair, pushing it back from his forehead, and gasps with something like awe marbled with need. His lust-darkened eyes peering up at her from between her breasts might be the most erotic thing she’s ever seen.

Entirely at your service.

You deserve an eager lover.

“Oh, Sanji…” she sighs and leans back against the bench. “Please, yes, I need it…

“…do I get to serve you after?”

The question is so airy and quiet that Sanji almost doesn’t catch it, occupied as he is with the scent of Amy’s perfume and the solemn task of unbuttoning her from the other side. “What’s that, darling?”

Amy holds his face between her hands and pets his flushed cheeks with her thumbs. “Do I get to return the favor once you’ve made good on those wonderful things you said you want to do to me?”

“You may not need to. I’m pretty, ah, worked up right now—might be that I’ll follow you over the edge when you cum for me.” Sanji kisses her palm and, taking hold of her hand, guides it along the faint trail of hair leading to where he needs her touch the most.

Amy wants to press the question further, but contents herself with pressing her hand to the bulge in Sanji’s shorts. She gasps in wonder at his size and the needy cry that pours from his lips.

“Let’s find out for sure, shall we?” She turns her back to Sanji and lifts her hair out of the way.

Seating himself on the bench beside Amy, Sanji can reach the buttons just fine, but he welcomes the chance to lavish her neck with a flurry of kisses. He smiles against her skin at her giggling, and thinks of how quickly the sound is becoming one of his favorites.

Amy’s breath, already shaking, hitches when she feels her top come loose, and again when Sanji sucks lightly on the skin joining her neck to her shoulders.

“Sanji, please…”

“Shhh, darling, I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs as his hands snake over the bare skin of her waist to cover hers in the front. “Your body is so soft, so beautiful. I love it.

“Can…can I just…feel it for a moment first? Explore it, admire it for a bit before I ravish you?” Sanji continues, tracing with his fingers the places that had previously been covered.

“Just as long as your body stays on mine.” Amy sighs dreamily and leans against him, eyes closed, happy to let him fill her senses once again.

There has, historically, been precious little in Sanji’s life that could be described as soft or tender. Such is a hard-working life at sea, to say nothing of what came before his stint on the Orbit; even on such a well-appointed ship as the Thousand Sunny, piracy is piracy, and the oceans swallow the weak. So when something comes Sanji’s way that could be construed as even the vaguest promise of devotion, he has learned to seize it, to enjoy it while he can, before the Blue Mother’s waves inevitably carry it out of reach.

He does not seize Amy, for she is not a pipe dream or a fantasy: she is substantial, in multiple senses of the word, generous in the warm plushness of her body and likewise in the beauty of her soul. He paces himself, like a man who has known starvation followed by plenty; though he does have to take a steadying breath when she sets aside the bralette and turns toward him, now bare-chested. One hand goes to her heartbeat, one to her shoulder, trailing downward and leaving a tingling heat in its wake.

“I want to figure you out, chérie, before I take you apart,” Sanji rasps in Amy’s ear as he engages his haki.

Amy has a hunch she’s in for some of the best sex of her life. Not that she has a great deal of first-hand experience for the love cook to exceed—men did not often stay in her life long enough for attraction to develop—but even if Sanji is as much of a serial womanizer as Nami and Zoro make him out to be, he has already proven attentive and empathetic enough to be above average. It’s not his skill she’s worried about—

The casual flick of a thumb across a now-stiffened nipple jolts Amy back into the moment with a squeal.

“Fuck, Sanji, that feels so good, do it again…”

He obliges, of course he does, and pleasure like an electric shock goes straight to her cunt, suddenly flooded with slick. She arches her back, leaning forward into his touch; and he must have heard the needy impatience in her wordless moan, because he pulls her flush with him and nibbles her ear. 

“Où d’autre, where else do you need me?” Sanji murmurs. “J’ai besoin de te plaîre…” [Where else; I need to please you]

Where doesn’t she need him? Amy wonders. “Everywhere, babe, jus’—fuck—everywhere. My neck, my hands, my tits, need you inside, everywhere.”

Sanji’s face lights up like he’s received the best news of his life, and he kisses her again. 

“As my lady commands.”

As he nibbles at her ear and her neck, Amy can’t resist rolling her hips against him, flush as she is with his hardened abdomen and his cock, and spirits it feels so good—

“Amy, my love,” Sanji pleads, “I don’t want to cum yet, let me do this for you—”

“But Sanji…”

“Amy. Don’t you want me to keep my promise to you?”

He stands and pulls her up as well, and continues: “Don’t you want to find out what my tongue can do? I should think you wouldn’t want the talent show to end so early.”

“Your fingers untying my skirt are giving me a mixed signal,” Amy mutters, though her fingers digging out the knots belie the annoyance in her words.

“I’m going to have you lay back for me, darling,” Sanji says as he folds the sarong, “and I want to have a cushion for your beautiful head.” He holds the garment out to her, and he’s looking at her with such tenderness that she feels something clench in her chest. “Your comfort matters to me.”

“And you feeling good matters to me.”

“Tell you what,” Sanji offers as his hands push gently on Amy’s hips, encouraging her to sit. “I get to taste every part of you, and you get to shower me in praise and ‘good boys’ to your heart’s content. How does that sound?”

“And then I get to play with your cock?” she asks, pouting slightly but positioning herself on the towel nevertheless.

Sanji makes a choked gasp. “Merde, yes, then you can play with my cock.”

“Sounds good to me.” Amy leans back and watches as he hems her in, elbows on either side of her shoulders, powerful legs astride her own.

Sanji takes a deep breath and considers what he learns from his haki. Amy shudders almost imperceptibly with each heaving breath; her eyes, wide and dark, dart between his eyes, his lips, his chest, and occasionally his groin. Her back is arched just enough to not have the steps’ wooden lip pressing into her, or perhaps she means to draw his attention back to her sizeable breasts; and her knees are turned outward, as though readying her legs to cage his lower torso close to her own. She smells of jasmine, sweat, and the spiced tang of arousal, so much arousal. 

He can’t wait to taste her. With no dissonance of thought or feeling in her aura to give him pause, the tasting begins.

He starts, quite naturally, with her mouth: lips that capture his sight whenever she has occasion to wear lipstick, staining his fantasies a pomegranate red; gasps and moans that spill from her like an overturned glass of sparkling wine; the lingering taste of sweet words and peppery olive oil on a tongue seeking out its counterpart to pull him closer. When the cruel need for oxygen forces them to pull apart, Sanji and his own clever tongue find the sensitive spot just behind Amy’s ear that he knows will make her nerves sing—

“SANJI, oh gods!” she cries, sure enough—

“Amy, chérie, would you be very offended if I were to leave a souvenir on your skin?” Sanji asks in a husky voice while he has her ear. “A mark of my passion, so to speak?”

Amy does not answer right away and her frenzied groping stills, but her embrace remains steady, which soothes his unease. She’s considering it, Sanji reminds himself.

Finally, she caresses his cheek, and he takes the chance to kiss her inner wrist. “Put them in places that can be covered with ease,” she replies decisively. “Whatever…this is”—for the first time since he found her in the crow’s nest Sanji hears a note of apprehension in her voice—“it’s our treasure, and I’d like to enjoy it that way for a bit before making it known to anyone else.

“We may be Straw Hats, but we are still pirates,” Amy continues with a smile returning to her face. “I think we’re allowed to be a little cagey about our hidden treasure.”

Whatever this is. Our hidden treasure. Sanji feels something shift in him at Amy’s words—not a jarring shift like a fall or a sudden change of perspective, but a shift like the changing of plans or steering a vessel in a new direction. A shift like soil making way for growing roots.

In the meantime, Sanji’s cock is twitching at the prospect of marking this woman as his, and again with the thrill of keeping a secret. “Such an angel,” he groans into her neck, “such a privilege just to touch you.”

Such a dangerous business, this whole falling-in-love thing, Amy thinks to herself. No, she’s not in love, not with one of the most notorious flirts on the Grand Line, even if he does look like he belongs on a magazine cover instead of a pirate vessel. Even if she isn’t merely imagining the heartbroken look on his face at the words ‘whatever this is’. Even if he is the most caring lover she’s ever had—because that’s just the thing: he does love generously, he loves in defiance of the sire he left behind, he loves and he loves and it would be selfish of her to want some part of it to be hers alone, wouldn’t it? No, she’s not in love with Sanji, but the cliff’s edge is right there, and the call of the void is strong.

“Chérie, have I lost you again? Is everything alright?”

Sanji’s handsome, smiling face is hovering above her chest again. Amy runs her fingers through his hair—he closes his eyes and hums at the sensation—and tucks it behind his ear.

“I was just…distracted by your beauty.” She smiles and winks.

“Using my own lines on me, are you?” Sanji growls in mock annoyance.

“What?! I’m just learning from the best.”

“Flatterer.”

“Clearly flattery works, or else you wouldn’t be straddling a mostly-naked woman right now.” Amy begins to drag one foot along Sanji’s leg for emphasis.

In lieu of an answer, he shudders and trails a finger along the side of one breast, which he lifts toward his mouth. While Amy lets her head fall back against the improvised cushion, he mouths at one pebbled areola with relish and strokes the other with a firm thumb, basking in her babbled praises over the next several minutes.

“That feels so, so good, darling, so good…

“Gods, your tongue is incredible—yes, just like that!”

“Oh, fuck—could let you do just this to me for hours…”

…and Sanji thinks, feeling the way she bucks and tenses under his caresses, he’d be willing to do it, too, his own erection be damned, if he didn’t think muscle cramps on his part would put a damper on her pleasure. If nothing else happens between him and Amy, he could at least go for months touching himself just to this memory.

Mercifully, the sound of a soft chuckle interrupts Sanji’s anxious thoughts before they have a chance to spiral. He leaves off the sucking motion of his tongue and looks into Amy’s half-lidded eyes. “Chérie?” he inquires tentatively.

She again combs his hair back with her fingers, still smiling. “It just struck me as funny, the way you looked like a boy licking his first ice cream cone of the summer.”

Sanji stares a moment before spluttering with indignation. “And what is a man supposed to look like as he is worshiping at his lady’s breasts?” 

Unfortunately, this serves only to make the lady in question laugh harder, albeit with fondness, and touch her forehead to his.

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It felt so good, but when I opened my eyes, there you were, swirling your tongue like you were afraid of letting your mint chocolate chip melt—”

“Melt?!” Sanji echoes, still playfully indignant. “Oh, I’ll make you melt—”

—to which end he pushes Amy back down and renews his ministrations with a vengeance, licking and sucking and nipping the sensitive buds, and tickling her sides. His hands slide lower and lower along her hips until he’s teasing the skin just above her panties; and when she makes no move to bat his hand away, he dips two fingers into the heat of her folds.

Amy never knew sex could be so fun.

Well, no, that’s not quite true; she’s long known, in an intellectual sort of way, that feeling safe and relaxed emotionally is conducive to both having fun and to having good sex. But the wisdom gleaned from others feels like an understatement compared to the euphoria and the anticipation suffusing her right now.

“You—” she pants, smiling, “you’re as good as your word, ah-aren’t you?”

Sanji releases a reddened nipple with a lewd smack.  “And you, love, have been melting for a while already, haven’t you?” He runs a finger along her slit, grinning wickedly at her wetness. 

“Oh fuck, Sanji, keep—keep doing that…”

“Tell me, Amy, is all of this for me?” Sanji all but purrs. Her pussy clenches at the sight of him licking her slick off of his hand and she whimpers.

A whimper is not enough for him: his fingers tease her clit, dancing around but never touching it. He flicks a nipple with his tongue. “I need words, ma chère…” he says.

Amy does not have words, though. There is nothing in Amy’s world save her body, and Sanji’s touch, and pure sensation.

“Answer me,” Sanji insists in a rumbled voice; and when he hears no answer but more wordless whimpering, he bites on Amy’s nipple and strokes her clit at the same time.

“Fuck! SANJI!” she screams, mustering the last two words in her brain as her world turns from pure sensation to white-hot ecstasy.

Likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated, especially if somehow I fucked up post formatting or my French grammar LOL

[itzrafee]

One Piece Chapter Discussion (Chapter 1121)

I know this Nami colour spread is mostly fan service but I genuinely can’t get over how good it looks. Though I will still mourn what we could’ve had. We could’ve had the Straw Hats jumping off a cliff like that one anime opening where they’re falling through the sky(I hope I’m not imagining that) or what looks like the Straw Hats playing basketball. Though the one Oda almost decided on seems to be the Straw Hats making a model of the Merry before scraping it. That aside, with this colour spread, from the shading to the colour, you can tell Oda is flexing on us. He’s legitimately such a great artist and his colouring of it really shows us the way One Piece was meant to be shown in colour. These bold and bright colours that really emphasise the joy and adventure of the series while obfuscating the horror behind it all. Absolutely lovely.

But wow! What an amazing chapter! This was what the last few chapters had been leading up to. I love these chapters in One Piece where Oda really doubles down and makes the impact of what he’s been setting up, felt. We’re in a place in the manga where we have to balance between the lore and everything else. Even in the final battle of Wano, Who’s Who was dropping lore to set up the next part. Compare that to the early fights of One Piece, it was mostly impact and action, meant to payoff the emotions of the arc. And in this chapter we get a glimpse of that once again. Catch the rest below the cut!

So it appears that Oda is emphasising something that he’s been talking about for the last few chapters and even before that. But in truth, what this chapter was, was getting the world of One Piece caught up on things that we know and can assume as well as clarifying what needs to be known as a baseline, and also sneakily reinforcing some things. We’ll get to that later so for now let’s talk Bonney. I love the care that Luffy shows in supporting Bonney. He’s always been the most ardent supporter of self-emancipation. Of people finding that resolve inside of themselves to free themselves from the mental prison they’re kept under. And in many cases, such as with Lucci and Arlong, the people freeing themselves haven’t been strong enough to do it physically either. To be able to defeat the villains that oppress them. But in Bonney’s case it’s a little different. She’s found a power that can rival this evil. Though she can’t do it all on her own. Luffy notices that and that she has a grudge against Saturn and encourages her.  He hangs back and does a good deal of damage. Enough that Bonney herself  can deliver the final blow. 

I don’t know if it was confirmed before but it looks like Bonney can use Haki. I’m also curious as to what Saturn really is. My going theory right now is that the Gorosei aren’t really people on their own but kind of like summons. Because they can go in the water, they seem to have different rules regarding their body, and they seem to be able to spawn anywhere, teleporting from one end of the world to the other. And after Bonney and Luffy take him out, Saturn has holes in him like some sort of impermanent thing. I feel like we’ve only seen that sort of stuff with Logia users and Marco’s mythical fruit. 

But going back to Bonney, the double spreads featuring her finally getting her justice are so satisfying. Heartbreaking yet triumphant. She cries out in defiance against Saturn and that gods and heroes do exist, ones that transcend that idea Doflamngo brought up in Marineford, of the winners of history deciding what is justice. That there is evil that isn’t decided by the victors and controllers of history and beyond that there is true goodness and kindness. A distinct difference between Luffy’s Nika and Bonney’s is that Luffy’s always laughing, to the point that at times it feels inappropriate but Bonney seems to be able to express her own emotions, crying as she finally achieves justice. In a beautiful touch, we also see Kuma, as empty as he’s supposed to be, smile. Fulfilling the idea of Nika, she gets the people around her to all laugh and celebrate at her actions.  

Also throughout this chapter, other than Bonney’s fight and that final declaration, we see, like the past few chapters, glimpses of the wider world. Some notable appearances were Conis in Skypiea and Judge and Caeser arguing. But we also get two very pointed reminders this chapter. One of ancient weapons and another of unique races. Let’s get our tinfoil hats on and really think about this. While Vegapunk talks about the ancient weapons we get glimpses of Vivi and Shirahoshi, their connections to the weapons pretty apparent. But we also see Conis and Aisa. If you remember, Aisa was the little girl who had mantra, what Rayliegh called Skypiea’s version of Observation Haki. But I do wonder about it because is the appearance of Skypiea just to remind us of Uranus, the last ancient weapon or is there a connection to Aisa and Nola, the giant snake? There’s been speculation that the ancient weapons always require a creature of some sort so is Nola the creature, and Aisa, like Shirahoshi and Momo, some sort of pilot? Honestly, I find that to be a bit of a stretch but it is fun to think about. But other than that we also have the mention of these special races. Vegapunk points out how these unique races were persecuted due to some quirk of history, It makes me wonder, was it something as simple as these races helping out Joyboy against the Ancient Government in the past or is it something like that these were created for some purpose, like Devil Fruits. Thematically I don’t know how much sense it makes but we do know that the world in the past used to be much more advanced and that even with this “primitive” technology, Vegapunk was able to create devil fruits and artificial humans. Is it then really a stretch to imagine that people in the past were given these extraordinary abilities such as devil fruits and lunarian powers? On one hand, maybe as gifts, but if we’re looking at the sinister side of One Piece, then maybe they weren’t gifts as much as they were tools of slaves and subjugated peoples? That’s a bit of a stretch but my thinking does follow along those lines. 

I’m also curious as to why Marco was shown there. Was it just to set up King or is there some other reason? I feel like generally, Oda’s been very thoughtful about who he shows when. So is Marco himself special or maybe Whitebeard? Maybe if Whitebeard does have a special lineage then it can play into the Edward Weevil connection that’s bound to show up in Elbaf. And along with it I wonder what happened to the rest of the Whitebeard Pirates such as Jozu and Vista. I’ve seen speculation that the shaded figure beside Imu is Roger resurrected and wielding the sword that was in Imu’s garden, which was supposedly Ace, Roger’s old sword. And while I do love how out there that theory is, I’d like to propose that the figure is Vista, gearing up the Whitebeard remnants for a shot at the One Piece. And Vista has history with Yasopp as well, with the point of contention often being speculated to be Banchina, Usopp’s mom. All of these disparate forces could clash in Elbaf… or not. Who knows? But that’s enough speculation for now, let’s wrap this up and talk about that last amazing spread. 

What this amazing declaration is, is a companion to Whitebeard and Roger’s announcements as well as clarifying what the stakes are and where we are in the story. Vegapunk even clarifies that to the in-world audience as well as the readers. While Roger’s crew have roughly divided up the story in equal quarters, what these proclamations do is divide the stories into thirds. Not acts, mind you, that would imply that the action is descending. Quite the opposite. What Wano was, in a storytelling sense, was a wiping clean of the slate. It helped establish Luffy as a Major Power as well as someone who’s able to shift the scale of power on the level of the Marines or Blackbeard. It also brushed aside Big Mom and Kaido, two pretty unconnected characters in the larger scheme of things. Now, every major player left is someone that matters and someone that every other person in the series, as seen by the cutaways, will watch as they race to the One Piece. 

Vegapunk’s declaration also clears up one giant detail. That the One Piece will decide the fate of the world. And yet, it’s still something that Roger laughed at. Now what that could be, we can all speculate. I personally think it’s Knowledge and Information. More Specifically, I think the One Piece is a tone dial with Joyboy’s adventures as a crew recorded on to it. But everyone’s got theories. Someday soon, we’ll see who’s right. 

But that sets the stage. Now all the major players are on the same level. Except Buggy. Buggy’s behind on the Road Poneglyphs. Though knowing him, he’ll fail his way into it. I absolutely love the expressions on Crocodile and Mihawk’s faces as they once again watch Buggy win.

He can’t be stopped. He’s just so sick with it. But other than the Yonkou, a lot of other parties are being set up to race for it as well. Parties that we know don’t have the Road Poneglyphs. So? How does it shake down? Probably at Elbaf. Gosh, I’m so excited to get there. And remember, Vegapunk did say someone Joyboy might not have liked may get the one piece. And if we remember one of Luffy’s first adventures, it could be that much like his friend Gaimon, that when he gets there, someone’s already stolen it out from under him. Ah, but that’s just how it is on the high seas.  

[inappropriateuseof]

Inappropriate Use of Haki (One Piece)

[quinloki]

Are fishmen still fishmen, mermaids still mermaids, and minks still minks? Or is everyone essentially a humanoid with hat-tips to what they were in canon?

Are devil fruits a thing? How would they be utilized for After Hours?

Are the heights of characters going to be canonical or diminished?

Is haki a thing? How would it work?

Would crews who have clashed in canon get along in the Club or will there be tension (like Kid Pirates v. Red-Haired Pirates)?

Is the Host Club the world or just a focal point of the world? Like when you watch Stargate, wherever they exit out the wormhole is treated like that's the entirety of that world because that's as far as the characters go. You don't necessarily need the rest of the planet because the story/characters don't venture that far out. Is the Host Club like that? Being the entirety of the world because we don't venture much further from it, or is there actually a world and all roads ultimately lead to the Club?

Fishmen are fishmen, mermaids still mermaids, etc. No races have been removed, but non-giants will have their heights adjusted.

Devil Fruits are in! So is Haki. Inappropriate use of DF powers are allowed, but clients can't request it - it's completely up to the DF user alone whether or not to break it out. (No one's allowed to be pressured into it). Some DF users have more leeway than others. Law and Marco can use theirs for medical emergencies, and to remove someone from the premises. Kid has to be careful with his because the plumbing is metal. Luffy can use his, but if he's caught stealing food Rayleigh deals with him >.>

Yes, character heights are going to be adjusted. Katakuri will top the proverbial scales at 11' feet, Crocodile and Doflamingo adjusted to closer to 7-ish feet or so. Kaido still becomes a Massive Dragon, but his, King, and Queen's heights are more around 8'.

Haki will be unchanged because it feels like a natural state of the world. Even if I didn't include DFs I would still have haki available. One major difference is that Zoro and Kid will be formally trained in their Conquer's haki.

Tensions were answered in the post before this (there was no way for you to know when you submitted this so don't sweat it) but I'll just reiterate that there's a baseline friendship among the employees. Almost any aggression/tension is played up for entertainment, but isn't real.

the Club is certainly a focal point, i think it's more like all roads lead to it, or from it, or both. The focus of the series is going to take place in the Club, but actions internal and external will effect it, and external issues will certainly be points of contention.

One noble might not matter in the version of the story that focuses on the Reader and Kid, but that noble might be the antagonist for the story that focuses on Reader and Sabo.

Big Mom might just be a nuisance in most storylines, and a major problem in Katakuri's and Marco's.

You might only hear about Akainu in most versions, but in Smoker's or Koby's (or even Rosinante's) he's a prominent figure.

That's the upside to this, I mean to use this AU for a LOT of stories, so having lots of details laid in let's me focus on different sets of them for each character's version.

Help me world build

[princessroyal95]

This is love (Charlotte Katakuri x Hirawashi Len) [English version]

Summary

Who can love a monster like Charlotte Katakuri? He is the son of Charlotte Linlin, known as Big Mom, and the question of the second eldest child in the family is who could love someone like him.

The idea of him falls apart when he meets a somewhat tsundere girl, but with a heart of gold that will make the commander fall in love.

-----------x-----------

Chapter VI

She couldn't believe what she had just heard. She didn't know what to do, she was paralyzed at the words of young Len. Did she look pretty with her third eye? Her body was shaking and those words echoed in her head again and again. She even felt that she was going to cry at any moment, but she stood firm and simply smiled without believing it.

"You are... a liar."

"What comes out of my mouth is true," Len clarifies while looking at Pudding.

"You're lying! You're doing it so I don't feel bad!" shouts young Charlotte feeling as if her strength will fail at any moment under the present gaze of her brothers.

Cracker and Katakuri did not say anything, they just watched as the two girls spoke wanting to know if Len's words were true or not. They are not used to hear someone saying: 'This is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen'. These are very strong words for a Charlotte who felt abused.

"I know how it feels when no one accepts you as you are." Len bows her head and hides his eyes.

Pudding relaxes to hear those words from the young Hirawashi. What does it feel like? Does it mean that she was abused by people too? She wasn't understanding anything. In Pudding's eyes, Len is an ordinary girl, although with monstrous strength. She doesn't have any defects, why are you saying that?

And she was not the only one, Katakuri looks at the young Len who has a serious face as if showing that her words were not a lie. His Observation Haki was not giving him any sign that he would attack at any time nor was he predicting the future if he said anything inappropriate. From what little he knows of her, he knows perfectly well deep down that she is someone who does not like to lie.

"I come from a distant island in the East Blue, I don't even remember her name anymore, it's as if my head doesn't want to remember the past," she begins to tell her story before the attentive eyes of the Charlotte brothers, "I, for some strange reason, was born with this superhuman strength." She looks at her hands, a little uneasy. "People looked at me badly and considered me a real monster."

"Were you born like this?" asks Cracker, somewhat surprised.

"My mother always told me that it was Kami's doing," she laughs softly, recalling those moments, "that she had a mission for me and that's why I have this curious strength."

"Kami's thing?" repeats Pudding without believing what she was hearing.

"I always wanted to play with the children, but the parents warned them to stay away from me because I am a danger." She rests her hands on the table holding that pain from the past. "Those children teased me that I would never find someone to love me as I am." She squeezes them tightly, doing herself some damage. "But it was a lie, I had my mother, the only person who looked at me normally."

Somehow Katakuri became interested in Len's story. It was somewhat familiar to him, but it is not very similar to his story or that of his brothers. It is as if he felt sorry for her for all that she had to go through in her childhood.

"Until she died." A faint sound appears on her lips as if holding back tears." It was painful to lose her. And I thought, with that, people would stop insulting me, and they didn't."

"... And you left the island?" Pudding asks more calmly.

Len raises her head with an ear-to-ear smile, leaving young Charlotte a bit surprised.

"Before I left, I had to beat the crap out of those idiots." She raises her arm while clenching her fist tightly. "One thing was clear, I wasn't going to let those idiots make fun of me, so I gave them a farewell gift.

A drop slips down Cracker's temple with a clear thought: 'Now I understand why their behaviour.'

"That is why I must not let fear invade me. If I was born this way, I have to accept myself as I am." Her eyes are fixed on Pudding and she brings her hand to her forehead without touching that eye. "And what is horrible for you, is beautiful for me."

And as if everything was in slow motion, Pudding falls to the floor on her knees, shocked by Len's sincere words. Her heart was pumping and her head was spinning. Is it possible that she has found someone who understands her? Someone who would never make fun of her? Has she found a true friend? Without holding back, a few tears appear from her orbits and she begins to cry disconsolately.

Len simply smiled knowing full well that Pudding had to endure all that pain for a long time and somehow that pain made her become like that: a bipolar girl. The question is whether, after this shocking news, it will have an impact on her personality. Will she have slight disorders? That' you never know. The young woman gets up from her chair and then bows down where Pudding is and, without thinking twice, hugs her, for which young Charlotte reciprocated more strongly.

Cracker was only smiling when he saw that his sister had finally found someone to trust. That girl was surprising him too much, he liked her behaviour, her security... All of it.

On the other hand, the one who has not yet come out of his trance is Katakuri who looked at the two girls hugging each other as if they were lifelong friends. Those words she said were drilled into her head: 'What is horrible for you, is beautiful for me'. Is it possible that she can consider beautiful what is behind her scarf? Unconscious, he carries his hand in that garment fearing that at some point she will see it and not think the same. He is a monster, after all, a being who promised himself not to teach anyone what he fears.

But is that possible?

"Oni-chan!"

His thoughts disappear when he hears a voice known to all the brothers. He turns his head and finds Brulee in one of the mirrors thanks to his Akuma no Mi.

"Pudding!" The woman comes out of the mirror looking at her little sister crying and her eyes are fixed on the young Len who was hugging her. A rage consumes her completely and she raises her hand to the point of attacking Len. "What have you done to my sister, you fucking bastard?!" However, Katakuri stops her before she does something crazy.

" She hasn't done anything to him, Brulee," speculates the older brother of all with a calm voice.

"And why is she crying?"

"Because I told him that his eye is beautiful," speaks this time Len, silencing Katakuri, because she is responsible.

Brûlée raises her eyebrow not understanding perfectly. However, she notices that Pudding's fringe was on the side showing her third eye. The woman opens her lips with surprise, looks at Katakuri and he nods.

"Oh, Pudding..."

"I'm fine," she raises her head with a small smile so that everyone is calm, "I'm still a little shocked.

"What did you come here for?"

"Oh, I forgot." She turns to look at Katakuri. "Oni-chan you have to go back to the castle, our little brothers are playing around and don't want to sleep."

He loves his younger brothers, they are still children, but there comes a time when you lose your patience and you have to solve the problem. Since no other sibling can do it. And it is as if the children prefer to obey the first commander Sweet.

"If you want, I can help you." Katakuri's maroon eyes stick in the face of the young Len who was getting up from his seat.

"Oni-chan can take care of himself."

"And I want to help, I love children."

"And why don't you stay with me and take a ride on Cocoa Island," jumps Cracker trying to get the attention of young Hirawashi.

"You're trying to hit on her, nii-chan?" she smiles mischievously Brûlée as she sees her brother's intentions.

"I remind you that I'm involved in the theme of the wedding," explains Cracker with flushed cheeks, "so it's only logical that I should impress the girl and have her choose me.

"You do realise you're talking about it in front of her, don't you?" interrupts Pudding, clearing the table.

It makes the biscuit lover more red when he realizes what he has done, that he even looked at Len in case he heard them. However, the young woman had her eyes on her older brother, waiting for that answer she so badly wanted. Why does she have the feeling that she has ignored the conversation she had with Brûlée all this time?

On the other hand, Katakuri has his eyes on Len when he hears that question from the young woman. What could he say to her? He did not know what to do at that moment. He would like her to stay a little longer here with his sister Pudding, because he has the feeling that they will be great friends. That's what her head said; however, her heart dictated otherwise.

He wanted to keep her close to him, to know more about her and at some point decide to show her what she is hiding. He must have a lot of determination to achieve that goal. Wait, what was happening to her? Where is the Katakuri that we all know? He can't be taking an interest in the young woman, can he? I think he was too affected by those words he dedicated to Pudding.

"You would do me a great favor if you would help me with my little brothers." For the first time in all this time, the Charlotte brothers are surprised at Katakuri for asking the young woman for help.

"Great! Let's not waste any time!" Len runs to the mirror, but stops and realizes one thing. "How did you get here?" she asks Brûlée.

"Thanks to my skill: Mira Mira no Mi" she laughs amusingly as she approaches the mirror.

"Do you all have any Devil's Fruit?"

"Only those that Mom considers important."

With a touch of your finger, the glass of the mirror shines, letting us know that we can now pass through it. Brûlée is the first one to enter, followed by Len who was impressed by that ability which was not at all normal. And, finally, Katakuri follows by closing the entrance of the mirror.

Len's eyes are pleased to discover an unknown world through the mirror. It was an area full of these curious objects. Could it be a world created thanks to the Devil's Fruit? It was all a mystery, but she didn't have time because Brûlée pushed her through one of the crystals and into the little Charlotte's room. It was a shared room where all the younger siblings slept.

"I don't want to sleep!" shouted the youngest of them. "I want a knife."

"You won't have any knife," says Dragée, looking fearfully at his sister Anana, who was a danger when she had a knife.

"Where's my bike?" he would jump up and down on the bed sulking, the young Anglais even throwing the cushions away to annoy his brothers.

Len was surprised that these children are so troublesome. She loves children, but this was too much for her. Now she understands poor Katakuri why he always has to go where the little ones are. She looks at him out of the corner of her eye, noticing that he was just sighing, trying to relax his whole body, and takes a firm step, alerting the children.

"Nii-san!" Dolce waves his arms trying to get her brother's attention. "Anglais keeps throwing away the cushions!"

"Because I'm bored!"

"Guys, calm down." He had to sit on a chair over there while looking at his brothers. "You should be asleep by now."

"I can't sleep if I can't skin my teddy bear," confesses Anana, looking sad and anxious.

"And I won't sleep if she gets aggressive." This time she speaks Wafers hidden between the sheets.

Katakuri was about to say something; however, he was interrupted by his little sister Normande who was flying around him as if he was chasing something. And, indeed, he was chasing a simple mosquito that prowled around the room. Len, seeing that little girl, her eyes shone helplessly and he quickly reached out to grab her with his bare hands, without hurting her.

Little Normande keeps looking at her, finding out what she was doing and why she was stopped in her tracks.

"I was chasing a bug."

"But you're the most adorable thing I've ever seen!" She brings her head towards Normande's little body and starts to give them little cuddles, something that young Charlotte starts to laugh at.

"Be careful with her." Brûlée warns her from the mirror. "She's from the tribe of the dwarves and they're delicate creatures."

"Dwarf tribe?" She stares at it from time to time and makes a frightened face. She doesn't want to imagine the poor little girl's father with Big Mom.

"What's she doing here?" asks Anglais aggressively, putting aside the cushions to look at Len.

"Don't be aggressive with her," Wafers scolds her by blowing up her cheeks.

"I'm here to help your brother," Len comments above, walking to the respective bed of the dwarf stocking, which was appropriate for her size, and leaves her there tucked in.

"Are you going to tell us a story like our brother Katakuri does," speak the twins Dolce and Dragée at the same time.

Len laughs softly at the proposal of the twins and looks at them.

"No, I will do something much better." She rests her hands on her hips with a defiant look. "The first one to fall asleep will get a prize."

"A prize?"

"Yes, you like sweets, don't you?" The children nod, already having the absolute attention on her. "So the prize is a bag full of sweets."

"Oh come on, not even that would work," Brûlée adds with her arms crossed.

And to the pleasant surprise of Katakuri, all the little brothers wrapped themselves up with the intention of falling asleep before anyone else. Their eyes are closed, they think that this way they can fall asleep right away. Len laughs sweetly to see that these children are so innocent. They have nothing to do with the elderly, they still have much to learn and value in life.

She waited a few minutes to poke her head slightly into each of them and they were all completely asleep by now. Len nods happy that her plan worked perfectly. She turns to see Brûlée who just had her mouth open still not believing what just happened.

"Brûlée, could you do me a favor and bring some bags full of sweets and put them on the children's tables?"

"Uh ... I'll be right back." She hurries away leaving Katakuri and Len alone again.

An uncomfortable silence forms in the room before the agitated breathing of the children who slept peacefully. The commander with the maroon eyes could not stop looking at the young woman with brown hair who clothed her brothers well. She looked so sweet and at the same time so motherly treating them that way. For some reason, his

"It wasn't a lie when you told me you love children."

"They may be troublesome, but they are sweet," confesses the girl approaching Katakuri that he was still sitting. "They just need a little affection."

"Maybe you are right."

And again, maroon and hazel color meet. A strange and at the same time comforting combination. Why did that kind of connection make the commander wince? He didn't understand it himself. The young woman only smiles tenderly, getting even closer to the man already in front of him.

"I think I'll go to my room, I'm a bit tired," Len says, stretching his arms a little.

"... Do you know how to get there?"

"... You got me," she says innocently, scratching the back of her neck.

"Look, this morning we took a ride and you still haven't positioned yourself." This made Katakuri quite amused so she smiles, even though she wasn't noticeable under her scarf.

"And I remind you that we haven't been here this morning." Wow, it looks like her tsundere form is back on track. She was upset by what Katakuri said. "This place is huge, pedophile."

"Whatever you say, hobbit." It was returned.

"But you will be ...!"

"Don't raise your voice here." It reminds him that they are in the children's room so he used his ability to shut her mouth.

Len tried by all means to get rid of that mochi that was covering his mouth. The five-meter man took the opportunity to get up and drag the girl away. And do you know how? Imagine the girl raised thanks to his ability and that she did not stop kicking, she feels defenseless at that moment. From time to time, he glanced at her to see her funny reactions until he pulled her closer to him as a better observer. She was just cursing him with the look of her daring to treat him that way.

Peace and quiet is what the girl's commander needed. Just hearing it gave him a headache; although, deep down inside he liked to hear her little girl's voice when she was angry. And in reality, for him she is just a girl in a woman's body. And he cannot say that she is well formed. Oh God ... He's already thinking like his brothers. He shouldn't be imagining perverted things about her.

Suddenly, his Observation Haki is activated giving him a warning that the young woman was going to kick him with all the fury in the world, so he dodges it before that task is accomplished. Len opens her eyes in surprise. How could he predict it? Is he some kind of seer and he hasn't told you?

"I can predict everything you do," he says quietly, looking at her sideways. "I like to predict the movements of my prey." A smile forms under her scarf that was caught by the young woman.

Len tilts her head a bit relaxing her intentions to hit that commander who had her in such a defenseless and submissive way. What she would like is to take that mochi off her face, he was almost suffocating her, literally. Katakuri ignored the young woman who kept walking through Big Mom's home until she reached the girl's respective room. He lowers her and frees her from her mochi causing the girl to fall on her ass.

"Moron!" she growls under her breath, glaring at the commander with a murderous face.

"And you are a tsundere." Low blow for the young woman.

"I'm not a tsundere, you fucking pedophile!"

"Whatever you say." How is it possible that he can keep his patience calm knowing that the girl was in her aggressive state?

"Fuck off." She opens the door, then slammed the door shut.

For some strange reason, he liked to tease this aggressive and hyperactive young woman who, at the same time, is sincere and pleasant. She can drive him crazy sometimes, but you can see that she has her way of seeing things. As he would like to spend more time with her; however, he must let her siblings try something with her over the subject of her wedding. And with a great sigh that came from his lips, she withdrew from that corridor heading to his home.

However, a shadow was watching them from a distance and her face was unfriendly. She did not like that that girl was around her beloved brother and has a plan so that Katakuri does not get closer to her.

"Tomorrow will be the big day," the young Charlotte laughs softly to leave.

-------------

Another nice morning at Whole Cake and the hommies start to sing happily welcoming the sun. Len, on her side, was still sleeping hard, but the rays of the sun enter her room, projecting on her face. That has caused the girl to make a face of annoyance and turn completely. However, the noise from outside her makes her wake up completely giving him the signal that she was already daylight. She gets out of bed a little sleepy and the first thing she does is go to the bathroom to take a good shower. She urgently needed him.

But before she takes new clothes out of the closet to put on the bed. Luckily she had a good arsenal of items because if she wouldn't have to wear the same clothes over and over again, and it isn't very hygienic really. Now she was ready to go to the bathroom to take a nice relaxing shower.

A few minutes have passed since she got in and the door to her room opens, giving way to a little girl flitting around the room. She laughs softly when she sees her target on the bed and slowly walks over to get those clothes before the girl comes out of the bathroom. Her ears get sharp when she doesn't hear the sound of water coming out of the shower head. She had to quickly get out of there before she knew it. She returns to the exit.

Len, on her side, comes out of the bathroom with a bathrobe on and a towel on top of her. "What a chill," she told herself with a grin from ear to ear. She starts humming a song as she walks over to the bed to get the clothes; however, she realizes that she was not there. She raises her eyebrow wondering too much that she wasn't there, and she remembers that she had taken it out of the closet. Her eyes are fixed on the door, which led to the hall, which was open.

"Oh is it possible! They don't even know how to respect when someone is taking a bath!" Len, with all the determination in the world, leaves her room not caring much if someone looks at her that way as she was. "If I'm the clothes thief, where would she go?"

---------------

"What made our little brothers sleep like this for good?"

"She just told them that whoever fell asleep first, the winner would get a bag of candy."

"Oh, our future wife will be a great mother," Perospero babbles happily.

"And I wanted to take her for a ride around Isla Cacao." Cracker pouted his lips very annoyed.

"You already had your chance to be in her room and to know what they have done."

"Nothing happened, Daifuku!"

Katakuri places his hands on his forehead trying to calm the situation. Why did his brothers have to ask him? Of course, that girl did not stop being with him, it is as if she was his favorite. He sighs slowly looking at his dear brothers arguing.

"I'd like to see her around here and point her finger at one of us."

"And what do you want that for, idiot?"

"For a walk, shaved head." A vein grows at Oven's temple.

"I remind you that she rejected us in the library." He slaps his little twin on the head.

"But fuck it, I want to have at least one chance like Katakuri is having."

"I'm listening to you."

And the doors of the room open, where a small half dwarf enters happily flying non-stop all over the place. The funny thing is that she wore certain clothes with herself that were too big for little Normande. She couldn't stop laughing like she was up to something.

The adults raise their eyebrows with some surprise that the little girl has entered like this without more and with that in her human, and thank goodness that she was light. Which, by the way, whose clothes are they? They were unfamiliar to any of her brothers or sisters. Normande turns around her brother Katakuri and, suddenly, she lets go of her clothes causing them to fall on top of his head. And right off the bat she runs off before a certain person shows up.

"What the hell?"

"I'm going after her to see what she's up to." The oldest of the brothers leaves that room, leaving them in doubt.

"Why did that dwarf bring the clothes?" Cracker asks as Katakuri picks up the garments one by one.

"And who knows who she is from. She must be running around looking for clothes," Daifuku specifies.

Katakuri is spreading the clothes and realizes that they are small enough clothes for a boy to wear. The most logical thing would be a girl of that size. Think for a moment who of her sisters wears this type of clothing so ... extravagant? However, his face turns red when she sees something forbidden to any man's eyes. A cream-colored bra and panties, which really matched too much.

The other three brothers are wide-eyed and red-faced like Katakuri. That dwarf is really naughty and one of the good ones! Cracker smiles very perverted, taking the panties still held by Katakuri.

"But look what we have here." "He stretches them a little to see them better." Who would wear this garment?

"Most logical our sisters," Oven thinks, but he shakes his head, not wanting to think about those things.

"Our sisters would not leave their clothes in view of anyone!" Another beating he receives from her brother Daifuku.

"I believe it belongs to our dear future wife." Cracker's smile widens even more as he feels his brothers looking at him. "I didn't know that this dwarf would have quite exquisite tastes."

Katakuri stares at the panties his brother is holding for a moment, then turns his eyes to the bra. Is this from Len? For some strange reason, his heart begins to pump like never before imagining the young woman walking around naked without any type of clothing. His most impure desires are present in his head. He begins to think what the body of the young man would be like under her, naked and with a rather lewd look, her breasts, hers ...

"Katakuri, you're turning red!"

He blinks a few times when he heard the voice of his brother Oven and shakes his head quickly, pushing that image out of his head. It's true, what that girl told him, he's a real pedophile.

"Well, pray your little friend hasn't woken up," Cracker jokingly remarks, looking amused at Katakuri's expression of embarrassment.

"I'm not as perverted as you are." He covers his face with his scarf even more, noticing how shyness is increasing.

"Oh come on, brother, we are human." Daifuku pats him lightly on the back of his older brother. "Having some reaction is not a bad thing."

"True what Daifuku says."

"Shut your mouth if you don't want me to break it." A vein grows in Katakuri's temple enduring the harassment of his brothers.

"Where are you damn clothes thief ?!"

However, all that happiness and joke fades, when they see the girl enter the room with a murderous look and concern at the same time. The four brothers were stunned to see her there, standing in front of the door, and Len stares at the brothers who were very calm.

Katakuri watches her carefully and her face turns red hot again. He sees that he has seen many naked women where they always go to his room to please his needs. However, this time he is different, with her he is. Her body was covered with that robe so short that it reached the height of her thighs and with a towel on her head. He was staring at her and he wasn't the only one of hers. The other three brothers were shocked that even some were bleeding from the nose.

Len doesn't understand why those idiots were looking at her like they've never seen a woman. Although her face changes suddenly when she sees Cracker with his panties and Katakuri with the other clothes. She clenches her fists angrily and her face turns red with anger.

"Katakuri!" Cracker! Daifuku! Oven! What the hell are you doing with my clothes?!"

-----------x-----------

Chapter V.

Chapter VII. Soon.

[xamaxenta]

Oh another is inappropriate use of haki and shit… Sabo utilising his superior armament to pin his men down and wring them out to dry with unyielding hands bc you know he would make sure they felt everything

And then he gets destroyed later by marace with their own haki shenanigans like we wanted to bring you down to our level you absolute bastard

And Ace gets to flatten Sabo completely because someones been training his conquerors in secret and Marco kinda has to lie down bc he didnt expect that and hes like rly hard so Ace needs to sort that out asap

[allthatmay]

very casually dropping off more Fatal Attraction tribute art... hope this isn't a jumpscare 😂

Me, blasting through the ozone after seeing this:

Seriously though, holy crap! You keep feeding us quality like this, and yet I am never full. Thank you so much!!

[lady-lauren]

❥ SILVERS RAYLEIGH X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: daddy kink, age gap, established fuck-buddy relationship, Rayleigh is a dirty old man who calls you kid, inappropriate use of haki, did he once upon a time take your v card? of course he did, creampie

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

The tide always brings you back, no matter how hard you push against it. An enrapturing, enigmatic pull into an embrace that smells like memories.

Rayleigh is too self-satisfied as his calloused fingertips trace over scars he remembers exactly the stories behind. Some he gave, some he saw etched by your naive bravery.

“Been too long, kid. Was startin’ to miss you.”

The bar is closed but your legs are open, spread wide across his lap with your knees sinking into the velvet couch.

“I told you I wasn’t coming back.” 

Yet your hands are in his hair, twisting silver locks into knots and pulling, tugging until he smirks and brushes his lips to yours. Heavy hands press your naked hips down against his cock, the thick heat of him smearing between your folds. 

“You always come back to Daddy.” 

Sinking down onto his cock makes film reels roll behind your eyes. The first time he took you was just like this, only slower, gentler, rocking your hips to the sway of a ship. Now he pushes into you with purpose, passion, like he knows just where he belongs. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans into your neck, glasses glinting and slipping down his nose. 

Muscular arms do the work he wants, fisting the fat of your ass and bouncing you in his lap. 

Your head falls back at the warm pleasure, cunt stretching and squishing from every push into your heat.

“Sh-shit, Rayleigh,” you breathe out as your clit brushes against silver curls, the sensation making your eyesight glassy. You try to focus on the cracks in the ceiling, not the feel of him stretching inside of you, yet lose your concentration when his lips find the perfect spot on your neck to suck.

You feel small against his chest as he pulls you closer, tighter, thrusting deep enough to make you hiccup from bliss. 

Rolling your hips to match his pace, you sink yourself farther down his cock, bucking to chase your pleasure.

“Atta girl.” Rayleigh swipes his hot tongue up your arched neck. 

Your nails scrape down his shoulders, the smell of his skin filtering into the scent of sex.

You know his body like he knows yours; you know to press your tits to his chest, to wait for the grumble he gives at the feel of your hard nipples before leaning forward to kiss your way up the stitching scar that curls over his pectoral. 

His cock twitches in your depths and you feel his cockhead thump against your walls. He pushes and pulls, groaning when your nails find the defined muscles of his sides. 

Bodies fall into a comfortable rhythm, your head lolling against his shoulder as you take what he gives. It’s as if he fucks you to your quickening heartbeat, every thrust drumming into your guts with perfect tempo.

The scruff of Rayleigh’s beard rubs against your cheek, looking for your attention. 

“What’s on your mind?” He bounces you a bit harder in his lap, thumbs digging into the crease of your hips. “Tell Daddy.” 

His voice is like warm water dripping down carefully placed stones, so casual yet poignant. He won’t rest until you give him what he wants. 

Distracting yourself by kissing up his neck, you taste his sweat and move your fingers to his hair. 

You catch your breath between the shoves of his cock, “I…” you moan deep, “always end up here.” With him, in his arms, with his cock pressed so deeply you feel it days later. 

“You know why,” he smirks as he leans you back, gripping your ribcage between careful hands, thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts.

The change in angle on his lap has his cock smoothing against the back of your cunt, cockhead nudging your soft spots with every plunge. 

You shake your head in a bit of defiance, content to just feel him, not to think.

“Do I need to make you say it?” 

The lopsided grin that splits his face makes a thrill run down your spine. He looks devious, like the Dark King is ready to play. 

After a few beats of slick silence, Rayleigh moves forward, putting a big palm between your bouncing tits and pushing until your back hits the low table behind you.

He leaves your body only for a moment. He gets on his knees on the fraying rug before spearing his thick cock back into your cunt, the quick thrust making you slide against wood.

“Fuuuuck,” you hiss, hands flying above your head to grip the edge of the table for stability. 

Silver hair falls over your face as he kisses you, a little frenzied as he falls into the pleasure of being able to put more force into his thrusts. One hand grabs your breast while the other flattens over your stomach, pushing down until he can feel himself moving inside of you. 

“God, you feel so good, Daddy,” the title is always heavy in your mouth, like an admission of guilt, “make me feel so, so good.” 

“That’s right.” Rayleigh’s thighs slap against the table as he picks up his pace. “No one’s better than your first, hm?” 

Grunting, his massive body straightens, both hands finding a home on your hips. 

“I ruined you for anyone else,” he reminds you every time you come back. The gleam in his eyes, darkened by the shade of his glasses, makes you squeeze around his pounding cock. 

“Oh shush, old man.” 

Yet you’re panting, sweat dripping down the back of your neck, pooling under your tits. Pleasure is spreading every time he presses into your core, rippling like webs underneath your skin. Everything is hot—the spread of your thighs, the grip in your knuckles, your ears listening to every deep moan he releases as he finds gratification in your body.

“Oh come on, kid,” Rayleigh tuts, snapping his hips a little harder. 

Long fingers move over your hips, both of his thumbs coming to press against your clit that aches every time his taut stomach presses against it. He keeps his pressure light, just enough to make you whine and jolt to where your head nearly hangs off the coffee table. 

“Ain’t no other man can do this to you.” 

He swirls both thumbs over your clit as he thrusts deep, pinning your hips with his strong hands to keep you from squirming away. The onslaught is quick, sharp, lights flashing behind your eyes. The coil of orgasm strikes your tummy like lightning, making you bite a scream between your teeth. 

“Shit, fuck!” 

Rayleigh grins and mumbles to himself, something about how he shouldn’t have taught you to have such a dirty mouth. 

You know the rules, he doesn’t even have to say them. You know if you want to burst, you’ll have to beg. 

Your throat feels dry from all your gasping and moaning, it takes a few passes of his cock in your cunt before you’re able to try and find your voice. 

“Please, please, Daddy, please, I need…” 

You can hear the table creaking under your weight, the legs scraping against the floor, leaving marks you’ll look at the next time you end up back in this bar. 

“Yeah? You can do bett—”

“God fuck Daddy please, fortheloveoffucking god, Rayleigh, make me cum!” 

Your words bleed together over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, sinking into the smell of salt and sea on his skin. 

He pauses, pulling your hips down until you hurt from being spread around him. Grinding his cock into you, you feel the lick of his haki slicing over your body, your mind, searing straight between your legs until his power and the rub of his fingers over your clit make you forget to breathe. 

Your cunt sucks so tightly that you can feel him throbbing within you, pulses of his cum mixing with the shattering of your orgasm. You crest and fall for what feels like eternity in just a few seconds. 

Your nails take chunks out of the table, his knees slip against the rug.

It’s not until you feel Rayleigh’s long hair spread across your chest that you realize where you are, what you’ve done, again.

“Welcome home, kid.”

[touchmycoat]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: One Piece Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Other(s), Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks & Benn Beckmann, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Benn Beckmann Characters: Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks, Benn Beckman Additional Tags: Gangbang, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Consensual Kink, Blindfolds, Earplugs, Sensory Deprivation, Anonymous Sex, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Haki (One Piece), Manhandling, Nipple Play, Come Marking, Hand Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Sexual Roleplay, Rimming, Double Penetration, Double Anal Penetration, Choking, Breathplay, Deepthroating, Overstimulation, Blow Jobs, Cock Warming, Coming Untouched, Subspace, Kissing, Threesome - M/M/M, Dirty Talk, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Aftercare, Consensual Somnophilia, Drugged Sex, Electricity, Electroplay, Anal Beads, Vibrators, Prostate Milking, Fucked Unconscious Summary:

"Marco gets used randomly and frequently at a cross-crew party with the Red-Haired Pirates." --from "At Every Opportunity" by wormhourdeluxe

Now with bonus chapter 2!

[hazeism]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Dracule Mihawk Characters: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks, Dracule Mihawk, Perona (One Piece), Roronoa Zoro, They have cameos. Additional Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, Stupid old men being unbearably tender and gay., I really don’t know how to tag this., Canon Compliant, As far as I’m aware., Inappropriate Use Of Haki, Literally just them being super in love. LOL., Kissing, So Much Kissing And That’s It. Summary:

Hearts full, eyes sharp, some things don’t change.

(Shanks spends a morning on Kuraigana. Set during 3D2Y.)

[inappropriateuseof]

Inappropriate Use of Haki (One Piece)

[sabraeal]

Could you write something with obiyuki plus getting themselves into awkward situations, cuz honestly these dorks have no idea what's going on 95% of the time.

(Part 2 of If Thy Set Thine Heart to Wooing)

It’s never been Obi’s job to be the center of attention, not as long as he’s been with Master. Not before it either.

He might have caused a distraction or two – knocking over barrels, setting free horses, and on one memorable occasion, scaring a whole coop of chicken – but his place has always been the shadows, unnoticeable as wallpaper. It’s been him that would wander into the kitchen for a hot bun and the freshest gossip, or share a drink with the off-duty guards and come back with a head full of the latest rumors. He’s the one people talk to, the one they trust with their thoughts and forget about when he leaves.

He’s not supposed to be the one rumors are about.

He’s not supposed to be seen at all.

Obi only suspects when he walks into the mess one evening and all conversation hushes.

That’s not – not strictly true. He had noticed the guards‘ chatter hitting a lull when he passes them on the walls, how ladies he passed would lean toward each other and whisper behind soft hands, how –

How suddenly he would walk into the pharmacy, and all that would greet him were glares.

“Obi!” Miss’s smile pulls tight when she sees him, clutching her books to her chest. Things have been different between them of late, almost awkward. He’s not sure what’s changed, but it’s like – like he has too many limbs around her and not enough words. There’s a gulf between them, and he doesn’t know how to fill it, how to cross it.

“I didn’t –” She ducks her head, cheeks flushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was just on my way to the – the stockroom!”

“Oh.” The word falls dumbly from his lips. His hands sit by his side, useless. “I could go with you. Reach the things on the high shelves.”

“I –” Her eyelashes flutter like frantic heartbeats against her cheeks. “I’ll be fine. Izuru said they fixed the ladder.”

He laughs, and even to his own ears it sounds forced. “And you trust it?”

“Ah…” Her gaze skitters around him, settling somewhere past his shoulder. “I should – I’ll see you at dinner.”

He grimaces; tonight is his extra session with Haki. “I took an extra shift –”

“Right!” She slips right past him. “You’re – busy. Of course. I’ll…see you.”

Obi stares after her, lost. He’s not quite sure how he cocked up that conversation, but clearly he’s got a gift.

“What are you doing?” Suzu mutters, grinding his seeds with more force than Obi thinks is strictly necessary.

He blinks. “What?”

“What. Are. You. Doing?” He’s never seen Suzu angry – upset, yes, dramatically wailing in front of the university bulletin, of course, but angry? Never.

He’s not, not now, but there’s a hint of it in the way he looks at Obi, like he’d glare if he didn’t like him so much.

“With Shirayuki?” He sighs, shaking his head. “I wish I knew. She won’t –”

“No,” Suzu snaps. “With Mistress Haki.”

“Oh,” Haki yawns, offering him one of the mugs of chocolate her ladies have brought them. “You hadn’t heard those?”

“Wha?” He gapes, accepting the cup with boneless hands. he hardly even noticed how the ceramic burns at his finger tips. “You did?”

“It was bound to happen.” She shakes out her hair. It’s too long for anything but a civil fight, but Obi knows Haki’s more likely to take a roll with a stable boy than cut it.

“Bound to happen.”

“Of course.” She shrugs. “You’re a handsome, young, inappropriate man. I’m a beautiful, young, proper lady.”

He snorts. “Humble too.”

“False humility is not a virtue,” she snips, savoring a sip of her chocolate. “In any case – you’re my guard, people see us alone together, we get on…it was only a matter of time before someone suggested that your extra hours with me were spent in bed.”

He groans.

“Figuratively, of course,” she assures him. “The rumors put us as quite adventurous. You wouldn’t believe –”

He holds up a hand with a wince. “I’m pretty sure I’d rather not know, your ladyship.”

“Boo,” she says, lips twitching. “You’re no fun at all.”

“You should do something,” her ladyship says, as he makes for the door.

“Hm? Do what?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes aloft. “Do something about Shirayuki.”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “My lady –”

“Obi,” she says, carefully setting aside her mug. “I will be most disappointed in you if our lessons stretch long past these rumors.”

“That doesn’t –”

“Of course it does.” She gives him a warning look. “Sometimes, Obi, humility itself is not a virtue either. Just stupidity.”

Raised voices seep through even the thick door to the walls. Obi hesitates, hand hovered over where he keeps his knives – if he’s about to walk into an altercation, it’s best to be prepared for the worst –

Only to find Jirou standing over two recruits, spitting thunder like an angry god.

“W-we didn’t mean to, sir,” one of them stammers. they both stand a head above their commanding officer, but they cower like he’s twice as tall, wincing as he claps his hands to startle them into looking at him.

“It doesn’t matter what you meant to do, now does it?”

The other recruit swallows hard, rubbing sweat from his brow. “We didn’t – we didn’t know Lady Shirayuki –”

Obi throws the door open, making sure it slams against stone. “What’s that about Miss Shirayuki?”

Both their eyes go wide. “C-captain!”

Jirou frowns at the both of them. “You’re both on late shift for a month. And I don’t want to catch you two at this again.”

Obi trusts his second, but he still has to stop himself from calling the boys back and demanding answers. “What’s that all about?”

“Mistress Shirayuki was waiting for you down at the door to get off shift,” Jirou tells him.

He raises his eyebrows. “Shirayuki?” She’d been doing her best to all but avoid him for weeks now.

“Yeah. And apparently those two idiots have heard the latest rumors –” Jirou sends him a meaningful look – “and were…indiscreet with their words.”

“Indiscreet?” One day he’ll be able to do more than act as his second’s echo, but it’s not today.

“There was some speculation about the nature of your service.” Jirou clears his throat, lips twitching. “And a little about the position and duration.”

Obi scrubs a hand over his face. Ai yai yai. “And Miss heard all that?”

“It was flattering, at least,” he assures him, like somehow that will make it better. “I found them at it, didn’t even know Miss Shirayuki was there until she made a run for it.”

He stares. “Miss? Make a run for it?” She was more likely to give recruits an earful about spreading gossip.

“It was…graphic,” Jirou allows, with the sort of expression that tells Obi he’s feigning thoughtfulness to disguise his needling. “Maybe it upset her delicate sensibilities.”

Obi snorts. Miss is fresh out of those.

“Well, as you wish,” he sighs. “Though I have to say, she looked pretty…overcome by the whole thing.”

“Overcome?” He remembers her, out in the snow, the face she made when he called Haki mistress –

His mouth curls in a grin. “You don’t say.”

This late, the labs are empty, all the lamps extinguished – save for the one on the fifth storey, where he can see a slender shadow cast against the glass.

Obi huffs out a laugh, swinging from grated window to the next, boots digging into the icy stones of the university for toeholds. If his miss doesn’t want to be found, she might consider making her habits less obvious. After all –

He hesitates. But what if – what if she want to be found?

What if she wanted to be found by him.

He nearly misses a handhold thinking about it.

A mixture of snow and wind make opening the window with any level of stealth impossible. Instead he rolls into it, letting the wrought-iron frame bang noisily against the wall, watching her jump, whirling to see him crouched in the window –

And nearly dropping her beaker.

“Ah, it’s a good thing I’m here, Miss,” he sighs, setting the sloshing glass safely on her bench. “You’ll lose hours of work if you’re not more careful.”

Her mouth works soundlessly as he circles back to the window, flipping the lock shut. “Obi – what –?”

He leans, so casual, against her bench. “I hear you were looking for me?”

“O-oh.” She ducks her head, and in the chiaroscuro the lamplight casts, he can’t tell whether her cheeks pink shyly or not. “I thought you were still o-occupied…” Her gaze flicks up as she adds, “with your mistress.”

He grins.

“My mistress?” he manages, so even, as he steps closer. “Oh yes. She’s certainly been putting me through my paces.”

Her pained expression almost makes him give up the game; he doesn’t want to hurt her, not even if the cut is fictional, but –

She tosses her head, lifting her eyes to meet his, and all he can see in her is a challenge. “Good. I’m happy for you, Obi. That you’ve gotten what you want.”

He hums, taking yet another step closer. “You know, Miss, I’ve been chasing her for years,” he admits, conversational. If she could hear his heart, she’d know it was anything but.

She shuffles back, gaze faltering. “Years?”

“Oh, yes.” His mouth twitches. “I just always thought she was unattainable. Meant for far better than me, to be sure.”

Her mouth pulls flat, eyes taking that determined shine that had compromised his heart, so many years ago. It would have been easier not to love her, if what he loved wasn’t the core of who she was. “No one is better than you, Obi. You’ve always been – deserving.”

He falters on his next step, and there must be something about him that seems stricken, since she quickly changes tack.

“And she is…” Miss’s lips pinch. “Very beautiful.”

“Mm,” he says, closer. She hedges back. “That’s true. Though I’ll admit, it’s not what drew me to her.”

“And she’s very tall.”

“To some, I suppose.”

“And – and womanly.”

His gaze drags over her, for once letting himself linger at the slim curve of her hips and the gentle slope of her breast, showing the barest hint of his desire. “I’ve never had any complaints on that front, sure.”

His miss, of course, doesn’t notice.

“And –” her mouth twists – “and blonde.”

“Oh,” he murmurs as her back hits the table. “I don’t know about that one.”

She glances up at him, brow furrowed, but undeterred. “And it seems like you enjoy –” she licks her lips, awkward – “servicing her.”

Her cheeks flush as her words catch up to her. “I mean, being in her service.”

“Oh, Miss,” he purrs, resting his hands on either side of her, bending close. “I haven’t gotten to that yet, but I’m certain there’s no one else I’d rather…yield service too.”

She’s red from neck to brow when she hazards a glance at him, and for a moment all he sees is heat, and then she lowers her head again, and he –

He takes his chance.

Her lips are just as soft, just as sweet as he had thought they might be. She stiffens at first blush, fingers clenching in his coat, but in the next she melts, she blossoms, and she – she –

She opens her mouth against his, surging up to meet his kiss. He staggers back to hold her, hands flexing against her hips, drawing her in closer. Her arms lift, winding around his neck, every soft part of her resting against a hard part of him, and he can’t help crushing her close, his hands stroking her back, burying themselves in her hair.

Her breath stutters across his lips as he pulls away, eyes fluttering open to half-mast.

“Shirayuki,” he murmurs, hand palming down her flank. “I only have one mistress.”

“Then…” Her face is the perfect study of pleased confusion. “We haven’t been talking about Haki?”

He leans in, relishing how her head tips to meet his. “No.”

Zakura makes his excuses after a single bout.

“I have important work to be doing, Your Majesty,” he reminds him with a grin, mopping the sweat from his brow. “You’re to be married in a week, if you haven’t forgotten.”

“Ah, thank you,” Izana drawls, sheathing his blade. “Seeing as Mother hasn’t reminded me in the last quarter hour, I have drawn dangerously close to forgetting.”

His aide sweeps a dramatic bow. “All part of the many services I provide.”

“Just go.” Izana waves at him dismissively, in the way he knows Zakura hates. “You’re boring me with all this wedding talk.”

“I live to serve,” Zakura deadpans, sauntering out the doors.

The room is cavernous now that it is empty, and Izana presses a hand to the weapons rack, steadying himself. A king rarely has time for leisure, but with the wedding looming close, and having started the preliminaries for his brother’s own political courtship dance – he’s hardly had time to breathe.

A king does not have the luxury of falling apart. Not when he has so much yet to do.

The door barks on it hinges as it swings open, and in a single breath Izana is whole again, turning with a smirk. “Honestly, is there no one else you can annoy at this –”

The words quickly die in his throat. His visitor is not Zakura.

“Oh my.” Boot heels click enticingly across the marble floor. “We are not even yet married, and already you tire of me, Your Majesty?”

“I…” His wit is his sharpest weapon, but it abandons him now as his fiancée strolls across the floor, not in her usual fashionable gowns, but in – in buckskins and blouse, waistcoat expertly tailored to sit at the top of her hips, drawing his gaze between the curve of her breast and the curve of her –

“Of course not, my lady.” Heat gathers beneath his skin, and he – he is irritated at his own distraction. Lady Kiki wore mens’ clothes as well, and yet he never – “What is it that I can do for you?”

“I thought…” She’s far too close to him, the scent of ginger and spice enveloping him as she runs her hand along the rack, fingers lingering on the pommel of one of the swords. “That we might spar.”

He blinks, expression flattening into a polite mask. “Spar? You and me, my lady?”

“Yes.” Her smile tilts up at the corner. “Do you happen to play for forfeit?”

He is unprepared for her being capable.

From the first moment, she surprises him, pulling sword from the wrack like she was born to it.

“Your brother never mentioned you studied the blade,” he observes as they circle each other. She’s cautious, perhaps too much so. But there is an eagerness in her too, one that makes him wonder if he can wait, make her try to land the first blow.

Her mouth shifts into a smirk; he wishes the sight did not make his heart clench so. It’s…inconvenient. “It is a recently acquired hobby of mine.”

She steps to him, and it is him who makes the novice move, who goes to block only to find it is a feint, a way to throw him off guard as she dances in close. Her blade darts in, inches from his side, but he is fast as well, parrying well before she slips away, circling him so she is always at his back.

“Your style is…unique.” There’s no other word for it. She’s not experienced, to be sure, but she fights clever and careful.

Her teeth flash in a grin. “I had a unique teacher.”

She’s toying with him, trying to wear him out or dizzy him with these antics. An intelligent tactic, to cover up her inexperience, but he did not best the finest swords in his kingdom to be undone by a pair of buckskins.

He stops turning, and when she lunges for him, he is ready. A single parry gives him time to break distance, to bring her into a space he can control, heaving heavy blow after heavy blow to keep her on guard, to make her falter, and –

He goes to land another, expecting her blade beneath it, but she sidesteps, and while he over extends she cuts in close, not with blade but with –

The pommel strikes his hand, leaving it nerveless. It’s no feat at all for her knee to come up, tapping the blade from his hand up into hers.

“I want my forfeit,” she says, so even.

“We didn’t discuss terms, did we?” He swallows. Foolish.“What is it my lady desires?”

“I…” For the first time since she has entered the room, she wavers, cheeks flushing pink. “Tell me…” She licks her lips. “Tell me you want to marry me.”

“I do.” It wouldn’t have been a lie before; he needed the North, and she was a pleasant concession to make for it. He’d always liked her, that sly wit she let slip through when her polite mask began to crack. He’d thought she would be interesting at least, a comfort if not entirely an ally, but now…

Now he is…intrigued. How could he not be, when she’s come in here dressed like a man and beat him so handily.

“Tell me…that you cannot wait.”

“I cannot,” he agrees. He’s surprised to find he means it. “I’m eager to be told that I can take you as a wife.” He lifts a brow. “Especially if you plan to keep those trousers.”

Now that is a pretty blush.

He leans in, lifting his blade from her boneless hand. “Another,” he breathes, far less controlled than he wished.

Her eyelashes flutter in confusion. “I – excuse me?”

“Another match.” He pulls away, smirk slanting his lips. “After all, anyone can win once.”

Her eyes narrow. “If that is what Your Majesty wishes.”

“Oh yes.” He looms close once again, relishing how her breast rises faster when he nears. “And let me name my forfeit now.”

“Of course.”

His gaze drops pointedly to her lips. “If I win, you’ll allow me to kiss you.”

Her chest stutters for a moment, and then she is closer still, mouth perilously close to his own.

“Husband,” she murmurs, breath caressing his lips. “If you want a good match, you have to make your forfeit something I don’t want to do.”

His hand seizes her waist, dragging her body flush to his. Distantly, he hears steel clatter to marble, and then her fingers grip at his cravat, tilting his chin the barest hint down.

“Oh my,” she sighs, palm curling up over his shoulder. “It seems you have me disarmed already.”

He grins, letting it grow sharp, grow wolfish. “I’ll have you more than that, if you aren’t care –”

Her fingers wind into his hair and tug.

His groan echoes off every surface of the room. He’d be humiliated, if he wasn’t beyond caring.

“If you keep doing that,” he warns, mouth so close to hers that he is no longer sure which breath is hers and which is his. “We will have to call the Justice now, or you will not make it to the –”

Her palm presses tight along his skull, buries beneath the thong that ties back his hair, and she pulls.

“Oh hells,” he murmurs, and then there is no room for thought.

Neither of them call for the Justice.

[allthatmay]

I had absolutely no intention of posting this fic as my first in the OP fandom... and yet, here we are. Pray for me?

Title: Fatal Attraction

Fandom: One Piece

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Shanks/Ace

Summary: Ace has issues. Shanks can see right through him.

Tags: Age Difference, Inappropriate Use of Haki, Under-negotiated Kink, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Choking, Rimming, Anal Sex, Bottom Ace

Extract: “Sometimes,” Shanks starts slowly, those eyes of his boring into Ace’s, “fucking's as simple as that, fucking. But every so often, you meet a certain type of person. The ones who'll drink up every little affection you give them ‘til they’re so cock-drunk they can’t imagine being anywhere but underneath you, and you haven't even fucked 'em yet. You savour those ones.” His head tilts, spilling red hair across his fierce gaze, and he smiles, all teeth. “Ones like you, little flame.”

[inappropriateuseof]

Day 17: Inappropriate Use of Haki