LAP DANCE

luffy & zoro, sun & moon

Another reason to hate the movie "Red" (and there are many of them!) The fact is that before the release of this movie, Shanks was a father figure to Luffy (as much as possible for a pirate who can't devote himself to raising a child, but let's face it, he's better at it than a Dragon). In the manga, Luffy even confessed that he sees him as a father, and you can see why. But in this movie, Shanks was presented as just a disgusting example of a parent and, in general, a man without a brain, which he never was. It is simply impossible to imagine such a person treating a child the way he treated Utah - there is no logic or sense in these actions.

And Utah… a character who was never needed in this story. To be honest, their parenting relationship with Luffy was pretty good - logically justified by the distance, but at the same time expressing concern for each other. They are looking for information about each other, enjoying the news and looking forward to the meeting that will take place in the near future. And you're saying that a man like Shanks, who followed Luffy's progress, protected him from a distance, and devoted his life to fulfilling the promise and dream of the guy he'd been with for a couple of months, at the same time completely abandoned caring for the girl he'd raised since infancy and named his daughter? Just left her in the dark with the first person she met, made her hate herself, did nothing to solve her problem, and just waited for everything to sort itself out? This film portrayed Shanks as a man who dropped the ballast in the form of a daughter to "better times." In my opinion, this is the worst of One Piece films just because of that. Because my favorite hedkanon is that he acts as a father figure to Luffy, who has never had a worthy example in front of his eyes (hello, Dragon, and fuck you)

More zoro smut where he isn’t a big mean ass dom but awkward, needy, flustered, and afraid of hurting the reader because he knows his own strength .

monster trio + secret kinks

it doesn’t really register with luffy that he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is, that maybe he should have a bit of shame when he walks past your private quarters and sees you with three fingers buried knuckle deep in your pussy. the shame never creeps in though. not when he walks closer to the cracked open door, not when he palms himself over his shorts, not when he starts panting along with you as you fuck yourself open. you’re so wet he can hear it and bites his lip to stop himself from whining. he wants to devour you, eat you out till your hips are bucking off the bed and your thighs are clamped around his head. luffy’s so lost in the fantasy, picturing just how right it would feel to roll your clit against his tongue, that he nearly misses your sudden cry. he knows, even without seeing the frustrated tears that wet your lashes, that you can’t make yourself cum. but that’s okay, that’s why he’s here. if only you’d come to him first, he thinks as he pulls his cock out, spits in his palm and starts to stroke himself. he’ll help you out after he’s gotten his fill of watching you try to reach a high that eludes you.

zoro would die before he told you how much he likes it when you wrap a hand around his throat and squeeze. he knows that you know the effect it has on him but still, the tip of his ears burn at the thought of confessing it out loud. the first time was an accident. he had you folded in half, fucking into you with messy, desperate strokes. you’d reached up to hold on to him and were too cockdrunk to realize you’d ended up putting your hand around the base of his neck. zoro jerked at the touch, a guttural moan ripped from him at the slight dig of your nails as you cum all over him. now, he chases that dizzying high every chance he gets. when you ride him, zoro slides your hands up from they’re braced against his chest to grip his throat. you’re an angel at first, trying not to hold on too hard like he’s made of glass but lose your hesitance when he grabs your throat and shows you exactly how he needs it. your pulse races beneath his fingertips, breath ragged as you tighten your grip to match him. zoro thinks you look beautiful when black spots dance across his vision.

there aren’t many things sanji keeps secret from you. whenever he tries to hide something from you, the guilt curdles his stomach and makes him nauseous. he always ends up confessing but this, he reasons with himself, is harmless. it’s not like you were using the panties he finds and you have so many, you won’t notice that one’s ended up missing. except one turns into two turns into sanji rooting through your laundry cause he’s so hard it hurts and you won’t be back until it’s dark and he can’t get off without the taste of you on his tongue. it’s one of the rare instances where sanji lets himself indulge, stroking himself off in the same, slow way you like to touch him while he laps like a dog at the seat of your panties. it’s filthy and shameful and he’s leaking so much precum it’s spilling between his fingers. all the while, as he stokes the heat in his belly, he’s thinking of you. thinks of you walking around in the panties he’s now sucking on, wonders if you touched yourself in them, if you came in them. the thought alone is too much for him to bear and sanji cums thick ropes with your name and panties in his mouth. 

behind the scenes ♠ photoshoots ➱ Esquire Middle East [2016]

Revenge of the Sith | Bloopers | The Chosen One Down (and it’s all Obi-Wan’s fault…again)       

bleeh 😋

and art of zoro from video

zoro ⚔️

ac: wesaier on twt

"was wondering where you slipped off to."

a month ago, you think, the sound of a man's voice in your kitchen well past midnight would have given you a heart attack. instead, much to your chagrin, shanks' low rasp—heavy with sleep—only has warmth curling in your chest. you purse your lips.

"’s my home. where would i go?"

shanks presses up against your back. only half an hour ago he’d done the same, tucked beneath the covers of your bed and curled around you so tightly it’d been a challenge to pry yourself free and slip away. you’d thrown on his shirt—plucked it from a corner of your room, a puddle of sea-softened cotton, not bothering to button it any further than you’d found it. he pinches at the sleeve and tugs it down, dragging the fabric down over your arm until it settles, buttoned opening only just covering the swell of your breast.

he’s gentle, touch slight as he brushes the knuckle of his index finger up your bicep. his lips are equally soft when he kisses at your shoulder. his hand finds your stomach, pressing into you, pressing you back into him, then sliding over and settling at the crook of your waist.

that mouth trails over your newly bared skin, up the slope of your collar to unabashedly bury his face into your neck and inhale, deep and slow.

"mm." the noise he lets out is something between a grunt and a sigh, low and rumbling against you. "dunno. you always find somewhere to hide away. what're you making? better be good, for my troubles."

"cookies," you say absent-mindedly, eyes trained on the orange glow of the stovetop light before you where two large brown cookies, still on their baking sheet, are cooling. then you blink. "your troubles?"

"woke up to an empty bed," he bemoans, "had to come down so many flights—"

"three. you think i don't know how tall my lighthouse is?"

"so energetic in the middle of the night. where do you even find the energy?"

you tut, reaching up with your hand to lace your fingers in his hair. almost immediately he turns his face into your palm, pressing a kiss there and rushing to leave more on the pads of your fingers, nuzzling his nose against the soft skin of your inner wrist.

"same place you find the energy to complain, i suppose." your thumb twitches as he nips at the base. "i could kick you out, you know."

"how cruel." his hold around you tightens. "you know my back hurts when i sleep on your stoop."

your head snaps to the side, determined to hide the way your face burns at that straightforward confession. luckily shanks seems preoccupied continuing to kiss at that hand, and a second later the oven timer beeps, drawing the attention of both of you.

"looks good," he says, loosening his grip just enough to let you reach out for one of the cookies, now cool enough to pry from the baking sheet.

"does roux ever bake?"

shanks lets out a bark of laughter. "roux's more of a hearty stew kinda guy."

"ah. 'course." your words are mumbled, spoken through the gooey mass of molten chocolate you've just bitten into. still warm, the cookie begins to fall apart almost immediately, collapsing between your fingers—shanks leans in to catch the greater part of the mess with his tongue, laving it over your palm and then up the length of your fingers for any remaining trace of chocolate, careful to press the roughness of his scruffy cheek along your shoulder with each movement. it draws gooseflesh there, sends a shiver down your spine that pools warmly at the base of your stomach.

"i made two for a reason, you know." in the dark quiet of your kitchen at this hour, you keep your voice low, barely more than a whisper.

"mm." his hum is more chipper this time, muffled around your finger as he slowly draws back. "we can split that one too if you'd like."

but his arm tightens around you once more, and he drags his nose along the length of your neck, lips brushing over the skin. when he reaches the base he pauses, pressing a kiss there—then another to the side, and another, lingering and meticulous as he crosses your nape.

"or," he starts, as if breathing a secret, "we could go back to bed."

"sounds like you've made up your mind."

"come back to bed with me. you need rest."

your lips twitch, all too aware that his plans hardly involve rest—yet still you nod. "fine."

and as soon as the word falls from your lips he has you slung over his shoulder, already on his way towards the stairwell. you catch one final glance at the lonely leftover cookie; in the morning it'll be hard, cold, and far too much to eat alone, but shanks has the right idea, you suppose.

you'd much rather spend the rest of the night tangled in the sheets with him.