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[sashi-ya]

You Belong To Me 18+ Shio Yotsurugi x Fem reader/WC:900+/ Resident: @enchantedforest-network Synopsis: Something can over the calm and cool demeanor of Shio. Seeing the attention you were getting from other men irked him. Getting you home he has only goal in mind. He will give them something to stare at and make sure they know who you belong to. A/N: Hey babes! I know this series is very new still not a lot of detail is out about Shio yet. There will be more out soon in the coming chapters(I can't wait!). I have talked to a few people in regards to writing this fic, and discussing about him. Please understand this is my own personal take on him. Thank you to @kenpachisbrat & @benkeibear listening to me be a feral gremlin about him! TW: Rough sex, possessiveness behavior, vaginal penetration, cream pie, suggestive language (slut), breeding kink, choking, power control behavior, moaning, orgasm, finger sucking, mentions of oral sex (unedited)

Your mind was a bit hazy, the room was filling with your moans and pleads, the piercing yellow eyes of Shio focused on you, you could see him flexing his jaw. Snapping his hips against you in a rough manner. His large hand around your neck applies pressure just enough to heighten your experience even more. “Always so messy aren’t ya?” The deep voice of Shio spoke, breaking eye contact for a moment to see your juices on the sheets. Bringing his attention back to you, the corner of his mouth slightly curled up. 

“Sh-shio~” you slightly gasped for air. 

The hand that was around your neck began to slide up, his thumb dragging against your bottom lip. Tilting your head down a bit as the tip of your tongue brushed against the tip of his thumb. Your lips would finally wrapped around the tip of his thumb. “Fuck,” grunting as he thrusted harder into you. “So proper out and about but you couldn’t wait till we got home…Seeing your pouty lips wrap around my cock on the ride home like the needy little slut. You knew exactly what you were doing to me tonight." You  sucked on his thumb as he heard you playfully giggle at his comment. The amount of attention you got tonight made him feel a bit more possessive than any other night. He watched how the men looked at you as you walked past them. Still keeping his cool composure on the outside but on the inside he was raging, wanting to smash every single one of there heads in for looking at you. He could just imagine what they were thinking about. He was one of them until he claimed you as his. He had been busier the last few nights and you were feeling needy, wanting his attention. The low cut cleavage dress that snugged to your body. The way your chest brushed against his arm. Feeling his hand wrapping around your waist. Whispering how badly you just wanted to go home and play with him. You were feeding his ego the entire night and it worked. You didn't expect it to work so quickly to, he would usually have you wait a bit before he excused you both for the night. He was becoming lost in his own pleasure and the thoughts came to his mind many times. Shio pushing them in the back of his mind a few times but it was harder now. He himself being part of a large family, he thought about the idea of having his own. Keeping the Yotsurugi family name going on in his own kids. It would also mean the first one out of his brothers to have the first child. The possibility of giving him more control in the Yotsurugi family. Not that it was the first thought in his mind at all but over the weeks it was becoming more prominent now. Just tonight seeing how the men were looking at you, he had a goal in mind. Feeding his own power driven needs for you to now carry his child.

His hands reached for the back of your thighs lifting your ass off the bed, both of your legs dangle over his shoulders. His large figure begins to press into you deeper, the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix with each powerful thrust. His hand grasped your jawline while the other hand pressed  against your abdomen as he could feel his cock sliding in and out of you. 

“You can take me so well…Atta girl…” The bead of sweat formed at his temple. "Remember no one else can ever make you feel this good but me."

“Your so deep Shio~” whining out loud as his girthy cock was stretching your warm slick walls. His warm breath was hitting your dampened skin.

“Who do you belong to?” his voice straining to compose his. 

“You~~~!” “Who now?” he spoke in a taunting voice. “I’m not just you…I will ask you one more time.” Snapping his hips harder into you with each word “who” snap “do” snap “you” snap “belong” snap “too?” 

“I-I belong to Shio Yotsurugi! Fuck just like that Shio don’t stop mmmmmmm~~~” the glossy appearance in your eyes. The more he thrusted he noticed how snug it was becoming for him to thrust into you. The dominating trait he carried so well, you were getting off as he could make you say things in just a instant. You had no control when it came to fucking. He had all the control you loved every bit of it.

“You keep clenching like that I’m not gonna last much longer.” he began to panting. “Don’t think I’m gonna pull out this time, your gonna take all my cum tonight.” 

You looked at him with flushed cheeks. He always pulls out and cums on you not in you, knowing what it could lead. It caught you off guard. “What?!” the only word that could escape your lips.

“You heard right” you could see the vein extending on the side of his neck “After seeing all these men, even my brothers looking at you tonight…We'll give them something to look at when they see my child inside your belly growing. They will know who you exactly belong to.” 

The thoughts started to invade more as his focus of trying not to cum was becoming harder for him. Filling that empty womb of yours was going to be his mission right now. The woman who drove him crazy with lust was going to take it all right now. “Shio wait~~” you were getting so caught in your approaching orgasm as your cunt was tightening around him. Your breaths becoming shallow and rapid. Trying to get a word out was impossible right now. “There is no waiting, I've waited long enough. I’ve been itching to fill this pretty little cunt up with my cum.” This was strained slightly. “You will be carrying a Yotsuguri child in this womb of yours. My child.”  

Giving you a rough kiss as his lips connected to yours. His thrusting became messy as his hands pressed against the mattress to hold himself up. The sound of his skin slapping against your as the tension builds in his lower abdomen. The last few thrust he pressed his pelvis deep into you hearing a deep groan from him as his seed began to fill your empty womb. Your own body tensed up your nails digging into his shoulders as your high was being released. Shio closed his eyes briefly, savoring the moment realizing what he had just done. Letting out a low sigh as his eyes opened up once again looking down at you. He pressed his lips against your forehead . “You will always belong to me…You always have.” his hand once again pressed against your lower abdomen feeling the bulge of his cock still inside of you along with his cum in your now full womb. "This is just the start, we aren't done."

💜Comment down below if you would like to be in tag for Negai No Astro💜

[sashi-ya]

Interest choice! Thank you so much for voting!! I was honestly expecting the other option, -idk why tho- 😂! so, I'll be working on the next chapter asap! I will, however, allow the poll to continue for a week instead of a day the next time (I didn't mean to chose 1 day but anyway, i'm stupid HAHA).

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter!

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.  

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces  Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys.  You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

[sashi-ya]

Tired of those contests where cosplayers win because of being popular and not necessarily better than the rest. I'm annoyed as fuck, give the rest of the cosplayers some opportunities, like, give them visibility. Why always supporting the same group of 5 golden child when they are already known by everybody? I didn't even participate, nor I would cause I want judges judging my skills not my talent in being more "friendly" or having more followers on Instagram. The cosplay contests in this country (and i know most of the rest too) are literally a popularity show instead of talent ones. Fuck it.

[sashi-ya]

Remember to vote at the end of the chapter 🙊🌻💕

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter!

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.  

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces  Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys.  You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

[sashi-ya]

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter!

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.  

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces  Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys.  You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

[sashi-ya]

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter!

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.  

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces  Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys.  You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

[sashi-ya]

This is more than just a smash. This is an I love you, baby bat 😭💕

[sashi-ya]

"Us" from Hiroshi Kitadani (latest One Piece opening) has its japanese name written in hiragana: あーっす！ and I was like... but if its "us" which is an english word, shouldn't be written in katakana? like アス? well my theory (i'm not a 100% sure) is that it is probably cause they want to make it sound like "明日" or "あした" or "あす" (asu) that means "tomorrow" (one of the formal ways)... and it's even better if you know that the first kanji there (明) comes from "dawn" and the other 日 means sun!

Dream save us us Aasu aasu aaasu!

edit: I checked Binks no Sake's lyrics. Indeed, they use "asu" as tomorrow too 😭💖

[sashi-ya]

Sorry if I reblog many times my stuff, tumblr hates me so I think it's the only way I have for my fics to be read :(

[sashi-ya]

THERAPY 🍯˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

🧸 byakuya kuchiki x masseuse! f! reader 🐝 tw: +18 mdni. masturbation. rough sex. domination. 🍯 wc: 821

The curve of his back, the slight bump of his buttocks against your thighs. Hands sliding to the front, index fingers following the V carved in between his abdominal muscles until down, down sinful territories.

“ngh…”

He squirms just a little, so sensitive to your touch… to the biting on his nape, to your hard nipples grazing against his back.

A skin so feverish; you are hot, captain… are you running a fever, captain?

“no… ugh…”

Soft hands, drenched in oil, surrounds the base of his shaft. Thumb going up and down until the tip. Oh, the oozing transparency of pleasure, dripping on the floor.

“are you so very needy, captain? Are your muscles still sore?”

He can’t say much; he doesn’t need to, anyway. Byakuya Kuchiki has been visiting this special therapist for some time now. Every time, every afternoon, his back pain is gone by your magical hands. He comes back home so… relaxed, because those hands of yours do wonders.

“I am… good, I-“ he looses his mind when you pump up and down, and your wrists twists just enough to add that special spice. Byakuya’s legs shake, inner thighs twitch, spasm.

“Oh yeah? Are you, Mr. Kuchiki?” a sweet whispering, playful and naughty, leaves your juicy lips. Lips that are avid to be kissed, to be bitten, to be almost ripped by his. “Relax, Captain… relax more and more. You need to let it go all of your stress, cap”

Your words give him chills, his lower belly shows signs of tensing, and his shaft gets hard, harder… like a rock. He is about to break; he needs to relieve the tension building inside of him.

Wet sounds come from your palm and his sex. Sex that’s imbued in pleasure elixir of lust and aphrodisiac oils dripping down his inner thighs. The scent of cinnamon and honey mixed with manly sweat fills a warm candle illuminated private room.

You shiver to such depiction of masculine fragility; the dichotomy of pure primitive desire versus the class, the delicacy of a cherry blossom man.

“I’m com- coming…” he whimpers, contorting around your grip, around the pinching of his right nipple while you give him pleasure too.

His pointy nose lets a drop of sweat detach and fall to the ground. His everlasting frown, erased by pleasure grimace. His long, silky hair becoming a mess as you nuzzle right into his nape.

“Come, then… captain. Work for it. This is why you came here, right?”

Is not a surprise that such freak control enjoys from time to time to lend control to someone else. To give you total power over his body, as you push his intelligence down until his brain becomes a mush of nothingness but mere need.

Byakuya’s hips move on their own, giving thrusts to the air, fucking almost your hand. Oh, poor man… why would you stop jerking him off right when he is about to come? Edging him so badly… to punish him, perhaps even, of a neglected so needed eruption?

“Keep- please… don’t… stop” he begs, pleading so stupidly for more.

Your devilishly, mocking laughter makes him as mad as humiliatingly harder. Byakuya feels like he is going to burst, coming, squirting and who knows of what more his body is able to react to such torture.

“Mr. Kuchiki, you are just like a teenager…” “You went to far…”

You pushed too far your own limits, honey… and now you are the one being pinned against a massage table.

Your legs become spread with brutally snatching, and your hair painfully pulled by hands of blooming flowers.

“You made me this way, (Name). You wanted me to do this, didn’t you?” he grunts, pumping his slippery sex that’s painfully swollen with desperation.

You are speechless; yet, he is right. Of course you wanted this, violated by a man turned into a beast. Someone who neglected his heart to took over because he denied his own humanity… now is allowing to an even deeper part of himself to reign. There is nothing more deliciously desirable than a man ruled by animal hunger.

The deepest instincts of Kuchiki Byakuya. The deepest thrust into you, in between swollen labia, covering it all with dripping honeys.

Your arching back, forced to stay in place, with breasts squeezed against a hard surface. Aching buttocks from the slam of his legs as he fucks you so hard you can barely think…

But it’s not enough, of course it isn’t.

His right hand, sliding from behind to your belly as you did, lifts you up. Completely curved, your back and body tries to take it all. With feet hanging barely above the ground, with pressure trying to scape in between his sex taking over everything inside of you… of his seed flooding it all.

“Now, my stress is completely gone (Name)… thank you for your service”“Kuchiki-sama… nghh… I’m glad you enjoyed today’s session”

[sashi-ya]

Tumblr please, don't fuck around T.T we don't need more awesome people shadowbanned!!

Good morning!

I’m having some issues with my account. Could you please interact with this post? Some of my mutuals can’t even see my posts on their dashboard🥹

Ah, hope I’m not slipping into shadowban

[sashi-ya]

So, I started writing the promised multi chapter fic with Law for you all. But, I'll love to ask for feedback as I'm writing just for you to be able to interact a lot more with it :3 Soon, I'll be posting the first chapter, and with it, you will be able to chose and vote for the next parts! something like those books "choose your own adventure". Hope you will enjoy the idea of an interactive experience

Some little hints: Law is not a doctor, well not a surgeon at least -nor he has a degree on medicine- but he kinda knows how to save lives (and how to steal some hearts, too). Reader is not the "poor little victim" but a very, very bossy individual. She is successful and very rich... she has the world on the palm of her hand, but there is something that's missing in her life...~ 🌱

[sashi-ya]

THERAPY 🍯˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

🧸 byakuya kuchiki x masseuse! f! reader 🐝 tw: +18 mdni. masturbation. rough sex. domination. 🍯 wc: 821

The curve of his back, the slight bump of his buttocks against your thighs. Hands sliding to the front, index fingers following the V carved in between his abdominal muscles until down, down sinful territories.

“ngh…”

He squirms just a little, so sensitive to your touch… to the biting on his nape, to your hard nipples grazing against his back.

A skin so feverish; you are hot, captain… are you running a fever, captain?

“no… ugh…”

Soft hands, drenched in oil, surrounds the base of his shaft. Thumb going up and down until the tip. Oh, the oozing transparency of pleasure, dripping on the floor.

“are you so very needy, captain? Are your muscles still sore?”

He can’t say much; he doesn’t need to, anyway. Byakuya Kuchiki has been visiting this special therapist for some time now. Every time, every afternoon, his back pain is gone by your magical hands. He comes back home so… relaxed, because those hands of yours do wonders.

“I am… good, I-“ he looses his mind when you pump up and down, and your wrists twists just enough to add that special spice. Byakuya’s legs shake, inner thighs twitch, spasm.

“Oh yeah? Are you, Mr. Kuchiki?” a sweet whispering, playful and naughty, leaves your juicy lips. Lips that are avid to be kissed, to be bitten, to be almost ripped by his. “Relax, Captain… relax more and more. You need to let it go all of your stress, cap”

Your words give him chills, his lower belly shows signs of tensing, and his shaft gets hard, harder… like a rock. He is about to break; he needs to relieve the tension building inside of him.

Wet sounds come from your palm and his sex. Sex that’s imbued in pleasure elixir of lust and aphrodisiac oils dripping down his inner thighs. The scent of cinnamon and honey mixed with manly sweat fills a warm candle illuminated private room.

You shiver to such depiction of masculine fragility; the dichotomy of pure primitive desire versus the class, the delicacy of a cherry blossom man.

“I’m com- coming…” he whimpers, contorting around your grip, around the pinching of his right nipple while you give him pleasure too.

His pointy nose lets a drop of sweat detach and fall to the ground. His everlasting frown, erased by pleasure grimace. His long, silky hair becoming a mess as you nuzzle right into his nape.

“Come, then… captain. Work for it. This is why you came here, right?”

Is not a surprise that such freak control enjoys from time to time to lend control to someone else. To give you total power over his body, as you push his intelligence down until his brain becomes a mush of nothingness but mere need.

Byakuya’s hips move on their own, giving thrusts to the air, fucking almost your hand. Oh, poor man… why would you stop jerking him off right when he is about to come? Edging him so badly… to punish him, perhaps even, of a neglected so needed eruption?

“Keep- please… don’t… stop” he begs, pleading so stupidly for more.

Your devilishly, mocking laughter makes him as mad as humiliatingly harder. Byakuya feels like he is going to burst, coming, squirting and who knows of what more his body is able to react to such torture.

“Mr. Kuchiki, you are just like a teenager…” “You went to far…”

You pushed too far your own limits, honey… and now you are the one being pinned against a massage table.

Your legs become spread with brutally snatching, and your hair painfully pulled by hands of blooming flowers.

“You made me this way, (Name). You wanted me to do this, didn’t you?” he grunts, pumping his slippery sex that’s painfully swollen with desperation.

You are speechless; yet, he is right. Of course you wanted this, violated by a man turned into a beast. Someone who neglected his heart to took over because he denied his own humanity… now is allowing to an even deeper part of himself to reign. There is nothing more deliciously desirable than a man ruled by animal hunger.

The deepest instincts of Kuchiki Byakuya. The deepest thrust into you, in between swollen labia, covering it all with dripping honeys.

Your arching back, forced to stay in place, with breasts squeezed against a hard surface. Aching buttocks from the slam of his legs as he fucks you so hard you can barely think…

But it’s not enough, of course it isn’t.

His right hand, sliding from behind to your belly as you did, lifts you up. Completely curved, your back and body tries to take it all. With feet hanging barely above the ground, with pressure trying to scape in between his sex taking over everything inside of you… of his seed flooding it all.

“Now, my stress is completely gone (Name)… thank you for your service”“Kuchiki-sama… nghh… I’m glad you enjoyed today’s session”

[sashi-ya]

Couldn't take pics today, but people loved my Mao Mao cosplay and I'm so happy 😭💕

[sashi-ya]

THERAPY 🍯˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

🧸 byakuya kuchiki x masseuse! f! reader 🐝 tw: +18 mdni. masturbation. rough sex. domination. 🍯 wc: 821

The curve of his back, the slight bump of his buttocks against your thighs. Hands sliding to the front, index fingers following the V carved in between his abdominal muscles until down, down sinful territories.

“ngh…”

He squirms just a little, so sensitive to your touch… to the biting on his nape, to your hard nipples grazing against his back.

A skin so feverish; you are hot, captain… are you running a fever, captain?

“no… ugh…”

Soft hands, drenched in oil, surrounds the base of his shaft. Thumb going up and down until the tip. Oh, the oozing transparency of pleasure, dripping on the floor.

“are you so very needy, captain? Are your muscles still sore?”

He can’t say much; he doesn’t need to, anyway. Byakuya Kuchiki has been visiting this special therapist for some time now. Every time, every afternoon, his back pain is gone by your magical hands. He comes back home so… relaxed, because those hands of yours do wonders.

“I am… good, I-“ he looses his mind when you pump up and down, and your wrists twists just enough to add that special spice. Byakuya’s legs shake, inner thighs twitch, spasm.

“Oh yeah? Are you, Mr. Kuchiki?” a sweet whispering, playful and naughty, leaves your juicy lips. Lips that are avid to be kissed, to be bitten, to be almost ripped by his. “Relax, Captain… relax more and more. You need to let it go all of your stress, cap”

Your words give him chills, his lower belly shows signs of tensing, and his shaft gets hard, harder… like a rock. He is about to break; he needs to relieve the tension building inside of him.

Wet sounds come from your palm and his sex. Sex that’s imbued in pleasure elixir of lust and aphrodisiac oils dripping down his inner thighs. The scent of cinnamon and honey mixed with manly sweat fills a warm candle illuminated private room.

You shiver to such depiction of masculine fragility; the dichotomy of pure primitive desire versus the class, the delicacy of a cherry blossom man.

“I’m com- coming…” he whimpers, contorting around your grip, around the pinching of his right nipple while you give him pleasure too.

His pointy nose lets a drop of sweat detach and fall to the ground. His everlasting frown, erased by pleasure grimace. His long, silky hair becoming a mess as you nuzzle right into his nape.

“Come, then… captain. Work for it. This is why you came here, right?”

Is not a surprise that such freak control enjoys from time to time to lend control to someone else. To give you total power over his body, as you push his intelligence down until his brain becomes a mush of nothingness but mere need.

Byakuya’s hips move on their own, giving thrusts to the air, fucking almost your hand. Oh, poor man… why would you stop jerking him off right when he is about to come? Edging him so badly… to punish him, perhaps even, of a neglected so needed eruption?

“Keep- please… don’t… stop” he begs, pleading so stupidly for more.

Your devilishly, mocking laughter makes him as mad as humiliatingly harder. Byakuya feels like he is going to burst, coming, squirting and who knows of what more his body is able to react to such torture.

“Mr. Kuchiki, you are just like a teenager…” “You went to far…”

You pushed too far your own limits, honey… and now you are the one being pinned against a massage table.

Your legs become spread with brutally snatching, and your hair painfully pulled by hands of blooming flowers.

“You made me this way, (Name). You wanted me to do this, didn’t you?” he grunts, pumping his slippery sex that’s painfully swollen with desperation.

You are speechless; yet, he is right. Of course you wanted this, violated by a man turned into a beast. Someone who neglected his heart to took over because he denied his own humanity… now is allowing to an even deeper part of himself to reign. There is nothing more deliciously desirable than a man ruled by animal hunger.

The deepest instincts of Kuchiki Byakuya. The deepest thrust into you, in between swollen labia, covering it all with dripping honeys.

Your arching back, forced to stay in place, with breasts squeezed against a hard surface. Aching buttocks from the slam of his legs as he fucks you so hard you can barely think…

But it’s not enough, of course it isn’t.

His right hand, sliding from behind to your belly as you did, lifts you up. Completely curved, your back and body tries to take it all. With feet hanging barely above the ground, with pressure trying to scape in between his sex taking over everything inside of you… of his seed flooding it all.

“Now, my stress is completely gone (Name)… thank you for your service”“Kuchiki-sama… nghh… I’m glad you enjoyed today’s session”

[sashi-ya]

Ah... I'm so tired... again, a new flagged post. Really, I got 400 notes or less every 3 days. My blog is ruined already. Quit wasting your time reporting. It is not making you a better writer anyway.

霊圧 + 淫慾. // spiritual pressure + lust. [twoop x sy]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. by sashi-ya 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈 𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐗 𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐁! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 .𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ

tw: NSFW. rough sex. fingering. squirting.Kenchan fucks you covered in the blood of his enemies against the wall of some place // wc:718 // masterlist // tag list: @tealcat001 @dumbbitch223 @bookandyarndragon @ilibili // colab with @the-witch-of-one-piece

A beast, a demon. Zaraki Kenpachi and his calloused hands on each side of your face. Your back against a crumbling wall of who knows where. He has trapped you, and his huge frame won’t allow you to scape.

“You’ve been teasing me for the longest time, now tell me… why?!” he says, with his hair down after an intense fight with some kind of enemy he clearly defeated. His face is dripping blood, his shihakusho teared, no patch on his eye, his haori completely lost.

You bite your lower lip; the ferrous smell of his enemy’s blood still lingers in the air. He urges you to give him an answer, he might be a brute but he is not an idiot, he knows you can’t stop looking at him with a rather lewd sight.

“So?” he asks.

“I- Ken-chan, you are too- intimidating” you barely mumble, no amount of confidence can save you when is Kenpachi who is topping you.

“What do you want from me? Huh?” he grunts, coming closer to your face. So close he gets, his nose presses against your cheek and his lips are about to clash with yours. You sigh, the pressure in your chest -and in between your legs- becomes unbearable.

His spiritual pressure is crushing you, but you don’t fall and instead a little smirk gets drawn on the commissure of your lips.

“Oh fuck, I will enjoy this” he exclaims, looking more like a demon than a Shinigami. His lips join yours, and violently begin to kiss you perfectly and deadly. You can feel the blood smirred in your face, and none of you care. If there is something you enjoy about him is his wild side.

You grunt as his strong arms rip your shihakusho to rags, your moans muffled by his intense lips and violating tongue, your muscles becoming weaker as his reiatsu raises.

“Let me see what you’ve been flashing to me. Do you think I haven’t noticed?” he scolds you, stopping the kisses to enjoy the view of your body like an animal ready to devour a pray. Kenpachi licks his lips before attacking your nipples with his sharp teeth.

He sucks, he pulls and bites. You throw your head back with your mouth wide open, moaning his name on and on and on. “Fuck, damn it” you whine, as his hand now has landed on your core and his fingers begin to explore your insides.

“What is it? Huh? You are always so strong and now you can barely stand” he laughs, fingering you with violent beckoning motions. It’s almost impossible to avoid the whimpers, the squirms and the drops of honeys bathing his forearm. “HAH! COME ON, COME COME” he screams, as his hand movements shake your whole body, pushing you into an abys of pleasure.

You are left trembling, but, do you seriously think that would be enough fun for him? Of course not.

“I- I need some- rest” you mumble, in vain. Your face is now pressed against the wall your legs being spread by his knee. It doesn’t take much time for the eleventh squad captain to untie his pants and freed his dick, as he has you ready to be impaled, hard and mercilessly.

“You will have plenty of rest when I’m finished with you” he whispers in your ear, with his raspy voice and his length reaching your entrance. Soon, he slides inside you, making your eyes go white and your walls to ache. Zaraki is big, wide, and long. And you feel like breaking in half, but nothing ever felt so right, so fitting.

The small of your back hurts, the skin of your ass get’s hot and swollen from the hard rams he gives you, endless stabbing hip motions that soon takes you the edge of glory. And, a few thrusts from that beast are enough to coat his dick with your orgasm, and a few more to make your sex full of his warm seed. He comes biting your shoulder, grunting, and sweating against your back.

“God… you are so tight… did you like it?” he asks, while his whole weight rests over you. “I did, Ken-chan” you purr, almost out of breath -and consciousness- “Come here, let’s go back. Let me carry you”

[sashi-ya]

don't ask me why, but I needed to write something for Byakuya. And I personally loved this part:

"You shiver to such depiction of masculine fragility; the dichotomy of pure primitive desire versus the class, the delicacy of a cherry blossom man"

(yes, I'm posting it tomorrow :3)