this blog is dedicated to MEMES and Katakuri galore, I currently have two side blogs. One is a blog dedicated to my Original Characters @jessicasbrain the other is my main art blog @byjessicalotufo
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A/N- A little fic idea that I couldn't get out of my head ever since seeing that damn live action teaser trailer. Alt description for this fic; all the ways you say his name...My dormant Sanji simpness is beginning to bleed through as you can see, hehe. Enjoy!
WARNINGS: Sexual content, implied past physical abuse of reader (very lightly mentioned, nothing graphic)
"...Sanji?" Is your only reply to his—quite delightful, in his opinion—self-introduction.
One delicate little brow raised, mouth downturned in a suspicious frown. One didn't have to wonder if you'd been impressed by his flourishing greeting. Clearly you hadn't. And while he'd much rather take in the captivating beauty that was your sure-to-be radiant smile, he couldn't deny you were yet still a vision as you gazed upon the cook with distrust and distaste. Even the pistol you aimed at his head, finger on the trigger ready to pull at any inkling of him having ill-intentions, did nothing to dissuade his enamor.
He couldn't quite blame the initial hostile reaction. He was, after all, an experienced pirate with a not-insignificant bounty on his head. This small, quiet island in the New World was quite idyllic, and clearly you would defend it to your very last breath, if need be. The fire in your eyes, smoldering in the face of possible danger, captivated him.
Alas, Sanji hadn't quite considered the price on his head as a hinder in his pursuit of love, but perhaps his enthusiasm and excitement for being wanted by the Marines had been premature after all.
Not letting the less-than-stellar first meeting deter him, he's quick to assure you that he was not here for your life or valuables; staples of any pirate's wayward desire. Rather, his unending curiosity of exotic cuisine and a scent-enticed nose was what brought him to your fine establishment. The smell of something savory-yet-sweet had drawn him in like a dying man to water. Something so wonderful had to taste divine, and his recipe-driven mind couldn't resist the knowledge.
It took some convincing to finally get you to lower the weapon from his face. Sanji couldn't claim credit for disarming you—an older man the cook came to learn was your father had laid a calming hand on your arm, muttering about causing a scene in front of the other customers. Your clear, intelligent eyes had glanced past the pirate at the rest of the dining space, realizing that you were indeed the center of focus for the entire restaurant, then scoffed as you pulled the pistol away.
And while you'd returned to the back of the restaurant, hidden from sight, Sanji couldn't erase the image of you from his head. Even as he tried convincing the owner to impart upon him the secrets of his dishes, his mind's eye played visions of the defiance and confidence in your expression.
"Sanji." You nod slowly, face impartial, revealing nothing of what you may be feeling underneath your calm exterior.
The deck of the Thousand Sunny was filled with excited shouts of joy from the various pirates that welcomed you to the crew, each formally introducing themselves now that you'd set foot on the ship that you'd call home for the next chapter of your life. Sanji, of course, was one of them, fondly declaring that he was at your beck and call. Anything for such a lovely lady such as yourself, with eyes like fire and the will to follow your foolhardy dream.
Chopper and Usopp, of course, were amongst the loudest and most enthused to have a new member aboard, with more muted though no less positive reactions from Jinbe, Robin, and Zoro.
The cook was already well-acquainted with you, having been the main reason you had joined the crew at all. A few words to his captain about the strange and interesting woman he'd encountered in the sleepy little island's restaurant had Luffy determined to bring you along on this adventure. It had simply been a matter of time before you'd accepted the invitation to go sailing, coupled with the extra motivation needed when your father had rather brusquely shoved you out the door to 'finally go after what you've wanted all this damn time, girl.'
It was easy to spot the telltale signs of discomfort as you stood upon the ship's deck, accepting everyone's welcomes with a polite—if strained—smile. As Sanji well knew, it would take time to adjust to life on the seas. Finding how you fit alongside the others, familiarizing yourself with the rhythm and routine of a group of people already established, and many other things.
When you'd caught his eye, he couldn't tell the sort of expression you gave him; regret, relief, or perhaps apprehension? For all he knew, you could be silently thanking him for making this opportunity open for you. Or, alternatively, loathe the fact that you'd ever agreed to go with the motley pirate crew. All you did was blink in his direction, contemplating his presence for a moment, before moving on to the next crew member.
In time, he'd surely learn if you saw this decision as a blessing or a curse.
"San-ji." You quip in amusement, a flick of your finger to his forehead a gentle sign of your teasing.
The touch stings gently for only a brief moment, and he grins as he reaches up to cover the spot you'd just hit. The little quirk of your mouth as he handed you the afternoon drink you'd not asked for had his heart beating just that little bit faster.
How many times did you tell him that you'd ask if you needed something? Ah, but how could he not provide all you might desire on a whim? Sanji just couldn't imagine not surprising you with your favorite treats, or a refreshing glass of lemonade on a hot day at sea. Sure, he received more than one exasperated sigh when he set these little gifts before you, but the little smile you'd present him after was all worth the effort.
Another exclamation of his unending love for you is all he replies with before leaving you in peace on your deck chair. The sun was out, bathing you in bright light. There was no greater sight than to see you relaxed and happy amongst the other members of the crew. If Sanji died and never made it to that fabled heaven, well, he'd had a slice of it while alive here with you in his midst, didn't he?
"Sanji!" Anger rolled off of your shoulders in waves, teeth set hard as you glared daggers at the cook.
Panting and bloodied, you shook with rage when the blonde straightened up from the kick he'd sent your opponent's way. The opponent who, Sanji pointed out calmly in the face of your anger, had been moments away from skewering you with a nasty-looking harpoon spear. Instinct had propelled him forward with a swift and devastating kick to the man who'd nearly pierced your beautiful skin.
He couldn't understand the cause of your ire. Was he supposed to simply sit back and watch you get hurt?
The cook was struck speechless when, despite his valiant assistance, you'd turned and punched him in the face with a frustrated growl. The shock had him stumbling back a step or two, his hand reaching up to touch the spot you'd struck, though the force behind the blow wasn't enough to send him to the ground. He'd faced many an injury worse.
Unshed tears brimmed just behind your wide and scorching eyes as you shouted how the battle had not been his to interfere with. How dare he step in to save you when you hadn't needed saving? You were no damsel. You were not weak. Who was he, to take away your agency, your burdens, your responsibilities, when you hadn't asked it of him? You were not his to have, to control, and to be responsible for.
You yelled until you were red in the face, months of his 'gentlemanly' interference to anything that may be inconvenient to you finally breaking free. All the little things, piled up atop your patience. He stared, struggling to comprehend where he'd gone wrong, turning over your words in a guilty haste. They clashed in dissonance with the dogma of chivalry that he'd lived by all his life.
Perhaps he just didn't understand you at all.
With most of your anger unleashed in your verbal tirade, you stood and shook in the aftermath of both battle and argument. And those eyes...Sanji couldn't look away from the hurt and betrayal that gazed back at him. It struck him like a knife deep in his chest, to have you look that way at him. To know he'd caused such strife, to fracture the friendship and trust that he'd spent months creating with you...
All he could do to stand there as you rushed away in the midst of the battle, still hearing your cries of rage in his head as if the echoes of ghosts haunting him.
"Sanji." There is no waver, no hesitation, to be found when you speak his name. Softly, and yet filled with certainty.
He's torn. So torn between insisting you stay, here with the others to remain safe and allowing you to leave in the cover of night. This was foolish, he thinks. Reckless and dangerous. And yet, he understands so deeply the need to protect the family you' still held dear to you'd left behind in pursuit of your dream. Had it been Zeff in danger, he would do the same, in a heartbeat.
But to see your expression so set—eyes so bright with fire now cold as stone as you gaze back at him, the only obstacle left in your way—the stars reflecting not only your determination to leave but the deep sadness that you tried so hard to hide. But after so long of sailing beside you, of looking at you with fondness and studying your every wonderful expression, Sanji could easily tell how much you hurt.
His cigarette's tobacco tasted stale and bitter, but he smoked it regardless, happy to have something else to focus on other than his loyalty to you and the desire to keep you safe. Could he really watch as you left on your own, off to face a danger that you insisted the others had no part of?
...but just as you'd said, weeks ago, who was he to intervene? Could he put aside his desire to keep you safe, for the sake of your freedom to choose for yourself?
With a slow exhale, smoke flows upwards from his mouth as he looks up to the starry sky. Sanji gives you one last long, concerned look, before telling you to stay safe on your way. He leaves the deck unguarded, abandoning his duty of night watch, for the ten minutes it takes you to steal one of the life rafts and sail off into the night.
"S-San...ji..." Despair that radiates from your whimpered cry cuts him to the bone, a fist of ice around his heart clenching tighter with each of your falling tears.
The flaming wreckage of your family's greatest treasure—the restaurant your father's father had worked years to build and grow—lit up the night like a beacon. Timbers crackled and snapped against the extreme heat and licking flames, burning everything your father held dear. All those years of work, of honest, hard work, became ashes and blackened timber at your feet.
Sanji couldn't look away. Not from the flames of your father's dream, but from you. Dejected, lost, without hope. On your hands and knees in the dirt a dozen meters from the restaurant where he'd first met you. Your fingers dig lines into the ground at your feet, desperate for some power, some semblance of control in this situation. But he knew, no amount of keening your heartache into the dirt would help. You were powerless to stop the flames. You were powerless to rescue your father, kidnapped by a man you thought dead and gone from your life.
Once more, you were powerless.
Sanji was silent in the face of your despair. He was there for you, in whatever capacity you needed. But he'd learned his lesson. He'd come to understand why you'd shouted so angrily at him that day. After years without the power to choose, the freedom to decide for yourself and do as you pleased, you would never let another take that from you, even unwittingly. His good intentions had stolen your right to choose, no matter how inconsequential the decisions might have been.
So this time, he waited, patiently, contemplatively. Sanji waited for you to give the word, so you so choose to speak it.
And when you finally raised your head from the dirt, cheeks stained with tears of outrage and devastation, he listened to your desperate plea for help. And when your tearful cries lessened to muttered sobs, broken and sad, he came closer and rested a hand carefully atop your head in reassurance.
There was nothing he wouldn't do for you, after all. He was at your beck and call. Sanji was powerless in the face of tears from a woman he cherished.
"Sanji..." Voice barely above a whisper, he hears them clear as day as you stand beside him at the ship's deck railing.
Your home island is barely a dot on the distant horizon. And while Sanji knew that part of you wanted nothing more to stay with your father and help rebuild the restaurant that you both treasured, the desire to seek your own dream out in the world was of course too strong to ignore. Relief filled the blonde sea cook, glad that you'd chosen such a path. Parting ways now, after everything you'd experienced together, would have crushed him, he thought.
But...it would have been your choice, and he would have respected that.
The sound of his name, so quiet and reverent from your lips, makes him turn to you, curious. Your eyes are fixed to the sea, a light smile set firmly on your lips. Sanji can't look away from your beauty, dazzling under the orange glow of the setting sun. Warm as the fire in your eyes, returned now that the terrible ghosts of a past you'd long turned away from was finally, permanently, behind you.
A happiness had settled in place of the worry, the fear. For the first time since you'd first stepped foot on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, Sanji thought that you looked at ease. At peace. Unhindered. He'd do anything he had to in order to keep it that way.
And as if you could feel the weight of his adoring and heavy stare, your head turns to gaze back, undeterred by the meeting of your eyes. You don't look away. Sanji wouldn't dare to either. This lets him see the way your smile widens in gratitude, radiant and beaming. He's breathless before it, committing the sight to his memory, in case he'd never get to see it again.
Freedom never looked so beautiful, he decided.
"San-ji." He can practically hear the grin in your voice before he sees it, his heart fluttering a little when he feels a finger guide his jaw to look at you.
That teasing little smile, oh it'll be the death of him one of these days. While the kitchen may be his domain, you were a constant and dangerous distraction he couldn't resist. As a professional, Sanji would never let the mere sight of a gorgeous woman ruin a perfectly good meal, but oh...there were times when that resolve trembled. One sway of your hips, a coy little laugh, or an intentionally suggestive wink was all it took to make him a puddle at your feet.
Not that there wasn't ever a moment already he wouldn't move the sun and stars if you asked.
Gaze redirected to you, and the way your finger gingerly traced up the line of his jaw, finally resting just underneath his stubbled chin. Sanji felt himself swallow, waiting with bated breath for what you'd decide to do.
Mischievous, pondering eyes took in the sight of the starstruck cook. That fire had never dulled, not for a single day since your liberation. And now those flames were turned solely to him. Did they burn for him, just as his heart burned for you?
Hands trembled. His chest pounded, heavy and loud. Were you leaning closer? Yes...his eyes flicked down to your lips, soft and inviting. They parted, your own gaze half-lidded and trusting. Closer, and then closer still, until he felt your breath against his lips. His eyes closed, the distance disappearing with a gasp and sigh of content.
Whichever one of you they'd come from, he couldn't be pressed to figure out.
"Sa-Sanji~!" All other thought is lost to passion and pleasure, your nails digging into the back of his shoulders.
There was no sweeter sound than the way you uttered his name, so close to his ear, so filled with desire and adoration. Beneath him, around him, held within his arms. You arched and moaned and tightened in response to his every movement, each of his measured thrusts. If his every waking moment was spent having you beneath him like this, it would be a life well-spent.
Words failed him. No, words weren't enough to paint the picture of your beauty. Splayed and vulnerable, breasts heaving with every breath, giving and divine as he used his own body to bring you to a point of ecstasy. You deserved no less, and him, no more.
The cook can't look away as he fills you with every snap of his hips, groans of pleasure from his own mouth filling the spaces in which your own don't resound through the room. If the sound of your voices raised in passion weren't enough to alert the crew enjoying their feast outside, then the rocking of the bed certainly was.
But Sanji can't bring himself to think of anything but watching you come undone beneath him. And the air is ripped from his lungs the moment your eyes—up to this point closed with pleasure—open to bestow upon him a gaze so full of love, of unconditional affection, of everything he'd dreamed of seeing. It's too much. It's all too much for him.
He kisses you, hastening his pace and hurdling both of you towards that peak. He feels the moment you're lost to those erotic throes, your walls clenching to ride out those waves of climax for as long as possible, sending him right along with you. His groan is stuttering and long, knocking his breath away and leaving him a shuddering husk as he empties within you.
The scorching flames of lust behind your eyes simmer to a warm ember, of a love that would never cool. Sanji returns that expression with one of equal spirit, holding himself above you as he gains back the air from his lungs. Your own trembling hand rises to tenderly touch his cheek.
You whisper his name. He whispers yours. And in the silence of your bedroom, your devotions of love as left unspoken, yet proclaimed loud for one another to hear.
My commissions are once again open! This round will allow 8 slots.
I have 2 pieces to finish up from my last opening, so please keep in mind that this round of commissions might take me a little longer to complete. This means it could be a few weeks before I get back to you with your piece. If this timeline is not to your liking, please reconsider whether to commission me. Thank you in advance for understanding. <3
If you're interested, please click here for the request form!
A/N - This commission was requested by the ever so lovely @corgiqueen3 featuring her OC, Sayuri. I got a little carried away with this one, but hopefully it is well worth it in the end. <3 Enjoy!
WARNINGS: Mild sexist remarks towards men from Black Maria, slight angst, explicit sexual content, and lots of emotional turbulence, hehe.
Black Maria's chambers were dim and smoky, both from the incense that constantly burned away in their trays and the woman's own kiseru that was frequently brought to her red-painted lips. Though the bitter scent still irritated Sayuri's nose to this day, she'd had years to get used to it, enough so that her dislike of the stuff was no longer visible in her expression. Combined with the glow of the flickering candle-light, and the discomforting presence before her, she was nearing a worsening headache.
The woman in question was sat upon the tatami mat in front of a game board, a good ways into a tense session of Go. Sayuri knew without having to look up that the brothel owner was watching her closely from across the board. The oiran was measured, careful with every move of her hand, gently placing her own black stone upon the board's square tiles. Having finished her turn, she straightened and waited for her employer's move.
"Hmm…" Black Maria hums, regarding the state of her pieces with thought. "Bold. Decisive plays, as usual. How it never fails to surprise me, I'll never guess."
Sayuri says nothing, simply waiting for the blonde Tobiroppo to make her own move. One would think the silky-smoothy voice would put her at ease, but the bluenette only felt her skin crawl. It always did when she was forced in close proximity to her employer, on nights when the owner felt inclined to pass the time with one of her many courtesans, bored and looking for entertainment. Sayuri was a frequent choice, given the amount of beli she brought into the brothel. The weight of her ankle chains always seemed to grow heavier during these nights…
Another few moments of careful thought pass, before the Beast Pirate reaches down with elegantly painted fingers and presses a white stone to the board. Sayuri calculates her strategy, factoring in this new piece to the playing field, pressing her lips in concentration.
Silence passes, the gentle pull of Black Maria's breath as she draws a long drag from her kiseru, exhaling it out with a sigh, the smoke swirling up towards the ceiling. Another stone is placed to the board, and it's Maria's turn once more.
"Charlotte Katakuri has requested to see you."
A sudden thump, deep down. Her heart thuds in her chest, carefully masked by a blink and a flicker of eyes down at the game board. Mention of the Yonko's son sent a pang of warmth through her body, memories of their previous meetings coming to her mind. But Maria didn't need to know that. Better to keep her response neutral.
"Oh?"
"Yes. It appears he has taken a liking to you." Something about the way the woman says it makes it feel as if there is more meaning between the words than there should be. Sayuri warily places her stone on the board, only half paying attention to the game now. "His enthusiasm to return is advantageous. All the easier to find out what exactly Big Mom's motives are for this silly alliance. He's stumbled into the snare quite conveniently, the poor man."
Sayuri realized after a beat of silence that Black Maria was expecting an answer. "If it is useful for us, I will oblige."
"Of course you will. Coax the man into telling you what he knows. He's sure to be a treasure trove of information." She instructs with that silky tone, eyes riveted on the board to plot her next move. Her lips are turned upwards in a sly smile. "I'm certain a man like him will lower his guard down for a pretty face. Something tells me he isn't used to being on the receptive end of a compliment or two. A bit of physical pleasure ought to sufficiently loosen his tongue after that. Men, the poor things…so easily swayed when their cocks do most of the thinking."
Flashes of their last time together, the way Sayuri had felt with his hands guided to her most sensitive place, followed soon after by his own cock…the oiran recovers by shifting in place and blinking a few times. The thought of their next meeting filled her with excitement, this buzz beneath her skin she couldn't fully ignore. Her lip twitches upward, a reflex of that growing happiness to see her new favorite client. "As you wish."
Silence lays heavy in the room, and it's a few minutes before Sayuri realizes that Black Maria is now watching her carefully. One cautionary look up is evidence enough for that. The brothel owner stares with that terrifying, calculating gaze.
Then, slowly and deliberately, Black Maria leans down to place her next tile, meeting the oiran's stare straight on. She leans back again, never breaking eye contact. And for whatever reason, Sayuri couldn't seem to look away. Trapped in the spider's gaze.
"That Katakuri. So handsome and strong, isn't he? Perfect in every way. It's no wonder all of the girls can't seem to take their eyes off of him when he walks into the hall." She gives a tinkling laugh, amusement evident. "He'd be some fool to turn down their interest."
"Certainly." Her agreement is flat and uncaring. Sayuri thought the comment would end there, but Black Maria persists.
"After all, why limit himself to just one? You may be beautiful, my dear, but there are many women who would offer him pleasure. One pretty face is as good as another, I suppose. Men can be so fickle. I'm sure you've learned that by now. Surely he'll feel the need to sample Wano's finest selection of women."
Fingers clench at the ornate patterns of Sayuri's kimono. For any other man, perhaps her boss's words would ring true. But Katakuri was different. He'd been different from the start, from that first visit where he'd revealed his face to her, to the last when he'd asked to pleasure her instead. The compassion and kindness that he shared with her was radiant, warm and bright.
He couldn't be so shallow…that didn't fit the man who'd gazed at her so lovingly the first night they came together. No.
"I hope you're being cautious around him, Sayuri. It can be so easy to lose yourself in the deception. You wouldn't be the first, mistakenly believing they truly love you." She gestures slowly with her kiseru to the walls of the brothel. "Men will tell you what you want to hear, sweet nothings to tug your heart strings. They'll act as though they care, touch your skin and call you beautiful. In the throes of passion, words of devotion and love will fall from their lips…and then they'll go back to their loving wives and children after all is done. In the end, you're just the oiran, nothing more. There to provide him a good lay for a night."
Sayuri was no fool. Many a man had stepped through her room's door with a family to return to after he'd had his way and left for the evening. A good majority of her clients had another to call their love, children to raise and care for, and lives to live outside of the walls of the Pleasure Hall. She'd long ago learned to ignore that sad reality, that when it came down to it, none of the men truly cared for her, only what she could do or be for them for an evening. But she hadn't ever thought Katakuri could be that way. Those questions never once crossed her mind.
How much did she actually know of her newest client? None of their trysts had delved too deeply into deeply personal questions. It was usually focused around the sex, exploring new things, learning one another's bodies. Could you know someone on an intimate level in only a matter of days? The more she thought on it, the less she was sure…
…did he have a wife back in Totto Land? A child? Was Sayuri, once again, simply the other woman? Her heart ached with a sudden hurt, the conflicting beliefs waging war somewhere deep. She couldn't conjure up a response even if the brothel owner anticipated one.
Black Maria, either not noticing her oiran's inner turmoil or simply ignoring it, continued. "Surely he has already committed himself to a woman in his own country. He may seem like the perfect man--perhaps he is, in some ways--but opening your heart to someone who will inevitably crush it is dangerous and foolish."
It was so easy to tell herself that Black Maria spoke nothing but lies. And for the most part, she could. The woman was vindictive, manipulative and always seemed to have an alternate motive for everything she did. But another small part of Sayuri, the little slivers of doubt, began to whisper and wriggle at the back of her mind.
"I've only your best interests at heart, my dear. Surely you understand?" The brothel owner's head tilted to the side, a look of pity sliding over her features. "He'll leave once he's had his use of you. They all do. So, use him in return. Find out what he knows, before he goes back to his own country with the rest of his family. Because he will depart Wano, sooner or later. And when he does, you'll be left behind. Right here where you always have been. Where you always will be."
The warmth she'd once felt in her chest was gone, replaced instead by a dull knife of dread, so deep and impactful, she wanted to scream. In anger, in anguish, she didn't know. All Sayuri knew was that she wanted out of this room. She wanted seclusion, time to think on her many swirling feelings.
"Tsk. It's a shame he's the son of that Yonko. Such a waste of a handsome face…" Maria's smile widens, eyes lowering to half-lids. Her expression is calm yet predatory, the kiseru gesturing down to the board. "Now, shall we continue our game? I believe it's your move, my dear."
Sayuri's mind was rife with uncertainty as she prepared her room that night. Black Maria's words spread like poison, seeming to taint any of the memories the oiran held of the man with the sharpened teeth. And while the bluenette certainly combated each warring opinion with a defense of her own--grasping for any hard truths she knew about Katakuri--the effort was ultimately proving to be in vain.
Had he lied to her, just like all the rest? Was he just another customer? And she, simply an opportunity not to be passed up? Her heart ached a painful reminder that she had perhaps gotten way too close to a man she barely knew. How could she have allowed herself to become so vulnerable, to speak of things to him that no other soul held knowledge of?
How stupid…I've been so stupid, the woman thought to herself in anger, placing the candles beside the teapot, ready should her guest wish to partake. Her hands shake from the unbridled emotions,and one of them falls the first time she tries setting it on the low shelf. With a low curse, Sayuri rights the object and turns to set the futon in place along the floor.
Use him, or be used. That was what Maria had said. The men of Kaido's court were so obvious in that regard. But Katakuri had been so kind, so patient and…downright gentlemanly. She wanted so desperately to believe all of the things he'd told her, all of the feelings he showed when they were together.
So caught-up in her swirling thoughts, she hadn't realized the room was prepared well in advance of when her nightly visitor was meant to arrive. The small clock device in the corner of the room ticked with conciseness, and Sayuri gave a long sigh when it was clear she'd be waiting for quite some time before he finally showed up.
Staring at the opposite wall, her back to the thin shoji door, the oiran reached for the shakuhachi placed with delicate care on the low shelf to her right. The instrument was familiarly comfortable between her fingers, years of practice making the small weight a welcome reprieve to the negativity clouding her mind. Perhaps a bit of practice to pass the time would help ease her restless heart. That was the hope, at least.
And so she played. Her fingers, manicured and well-kept, lifted and covered the holes in the bamboo flute as her breath provided the intended notes. In the solitude of her private pleasure room, Sayuri's enigmatic song rose and fell with slow breaths, each note long and soulful, meandering through the elusive mist that had become her impressions of a man she thought she loved. And while this wasn't quite the halls of Onigashima--possessing the appropriate acoustics for such a somber and chest-pulling piece--for an audience of one, it was sufficient.
Time passed. One song became the next, hypnotic in nature, melancholy in tone. Her sorrows were pushed out in every exhaling breath, becoming the very music she played. How had this all become so complicated?
She heard the door slide open behind her, and the dull thump of footsteps as her visitor entered and sat somewhere behind her on the tatami floor, but she refused to let this moment go so soon. Her heart wasn't ready, but it would have to be soon. Just…not yet.
With closed eyes, Sayuri continued her song until it reached its end, the final note fading out before there was nothing left but the thick silence. A beat, and then two passed, and she lowered the flute from her painted lips.
"That was beautiful." A deep voice compliments. "You are a woman of many talents, Sayuri."
Sayuri's grip on the bamboo instrument tightens, but she doesn't let it show in her shoulders. Then, with the skill of a woman who'd crafted one hundreds of times before, her mouth lifted in a picturesque smile, eyes softening into something more appropriate of a courtesan, and turned to regard the 2nd son of the Big Mom Pirates.
"You're too kind." She sets the instrument down where it belonged and acknowledged her client for the evening.
Just as before, he had forgone his scarf, in favor of keeping his visage on display for her to see. The teeth that she'd once so admired--and still did, there was no denying how attractive he was to her--were tilted and lifted in a soft, admiring smile in return. The yukata he wore was the same as before, simple and plain. Not typical of one a man visiting her would typically don, though not being a local, he wouldn't have known that. He didn't seem the type to wear anything too fancy or flashy.
It was too much, seeing him look at her like that. Like…she was the moon and he drank in her luminous beauty as if it were ambrosia. Damn it all…
"I have missed you." He says then, reaching forward to take her hand in his. She lets him, mindful of not appearing too eager. Reminding herself not to be so eager to feel his skin on hers. It was a pitiful resistance, but a resistance all the same. She can't fully stop the little flutter in her chest. "I've thought about the last time we were together since I left. I, uh…ahem. I rather enjoyed everything."
Katakuri's face boasted a faint blush, and she decided to play into that. "My dear, you were quite vocal about that right before you fully finished. Just…in quite different words."
This served to further deepen the red that peppers his cheeks, and he averts his gaze with a timid smile, reminded of the quite flirtatious and lewd remarks that had streamed from his mouth moments before he'd reached his peak. The memory flashed across her mind, but she ignored it, focusing instead on his reaction.
In truth, Sayuri didn't feel like prolonging this was a good idea on anyone's part. The naive part of her yearned for the companionship, the learning and exploring of each other's past and personality. However, if she were going to guard her heart and do what Black Maria expected of her, she'd best get on with the reason for him being here. There was only one end to their night. No use stalling it.
Slipping her hands back out from his grip, the oiran reaches to undo her ornate kimono. "Since you're so eager, let's not waste any time, shall we?"
Katakuri's brow arches up slightly, surprised. "I rather thought we would talk a bit, like we've usually done. I enjoy learning more about you." Sayuri swallows, her momentum pausing just enough for him to settle himself into a more comfortable position and smile at her with that damned smile again. "You mentioned the games all oiran are taught to play, and that you were skilled in other arts. Tell me more about them?"
She blinks, flashing another radiant smile and tinkling a light little laugh to pretend her nerves weren't on the verge of frying already. She was so used to having the control, of her clients following her every suggestion while thinking they were holding the reigns--especially when it came to the sex--but this only served to prove that Katakuri had a stronger hold over her than she felt entirely comfortable with.
"Oh, I wouldn't wish to bore you with details like that. They really aren't as entertaining as one would think."
"I think I'd like to hear it all the same." He presses, stubborn and yet gentle in that way he was.
Sayuri's heart beat once, hard. And then she mentally shoved the cursed thing back into behaving as it should.
With all the practiced ease of an experienced courtesan, and that of a woman who typically got what she wanted from the men who came to visit her, the bluenette released the last tie that kept her patterned clothing in place with a pinch, and the fabric pillowed down around her kneeling figure on the floor. Sitting perpendicular to him, he was graced with the unobstructed side view of the curvature of her spine down to her ass, and just the barest tips of her breasts visible from behind her arms.
And as predicted, he couldn't help but follow the downward motion of the garment as it unveiled her soft skin. Feminine wiles had always worked, if all else failed.
"Are you sure there aren't other things you'd rather listen to?" Is her low, seductive question, turning to crawl closer to the giant man on hands and knees. Her ample breasts swayed with each movement, and she could see the way he gulped at the sight, eyes glued to her chest. "I could certainly think of a few…most of which I'm more than willing to make."
Her hands find his wide shoulders, slowly lowering the collar and sleeves of his yukata until his muscled chest was on display. Even if he wasn't quite who she thought he was, Sayuri could admit that Katakuri was a well-sculpted specimen of the male sex. Her hands caress the pectorals and abdominals with a fine, delicate touch. The expression on his face is complicated, but it's clear that the taste of the pleasure he knew the two of them could make together was slowly shifting his focus. All the better. Sayuri was in control once again.
"Don't you want that, Katakuri?" She whispers, eyes affixed to him, large and open. "Don't you want me?"
He doesn't immediately answer, eyes flicking between hers as if in thought. For one terrifying moment, Sayuri thinks that he's about to refuse her advances and leave. Not only would the rejection crush what remaining fragments there were of her heart, but Black Maria would surely be displeased by the turn of events. Punishment would be swift in following.
Despite her fears, the moment passes, and his acceptance comes as a slow, silent nod.
Relief relaxes her shoulders. Red lips descend onto the taut skin of his chest, lavishing wherever they land with little restraint. The combination of soft licks from her tongue, and sudden nips of her teeth has him sucking in a breath. She feels his hands come to the back of her head, mindful of the careful setting of her hairpins. He grunts at a particularly sharp bite against his nipple, dragging it through her teeth.
Using his distraction to her benefit, she slips one hand down to undo the obi securing the yukata to his waist. It falls away easily enough--she's both amused and somewhat sad to see that it hadn't been secured as tightly as it should have. No doubt an intentional detail. All the easier for her to take it off of him…
Her hand takes hold of his member, hardening further with each soft stroke. Her name leaves his mouth in a gasping whisper. The oiran ignores the sound as much as she can, but even still, her other hand slips down to delve into her own heat, rubbing and circling to prepare herself for his cock.
His hips jerks forward, thrusting into the steady strokes of her hand. His girth shouldn't surprise her by now--she'd felt it inside of her more than once already--but feeling it between her fingers once more was all the more exhilarating again.
It was tempting, teasing and edging the poor man in her hands until he was little more than putty, hearing his breathy little moans as he neared that peak…but Sayuri reminded herself why she was here, what she was supposed to be doing. And so with a mixture of indifference and disappointment, her mouth unlatched from his chest.
Katakuri's eyes open, hand falling from the back of her head, and peered down at the woman as she turned to kneel upon the floor on all fours, her ass faced towards him. With an arching of her back and a few batted lashes, she made it very clear what she was expecting of him. And without much hesitation, he shimmied forward on his knees, hands grasping her hips to pull her flush against his standing erection.
Sayuri gives a hum of approval, one she didn't have to force. Her thighs and core ached with need, wanting him inside of her, but her heart ached something deeper and more painful. The poor oiran didn't know which one she was supposed to be listening to at the moment.
Head lowering, waiting for Katakuri to pull back and slide his member into her waiting wetness, Sayuri's eyes close. But he doesn't move. He simply sits there, hands still grasping her hips with a tightness she loved.
That was, until he suddenly pulled away and twisted her by the hips to fall onto her back neatly. She let out an 'oof' of surprise, blinking widely when he faced her with a deep frown.
"Something is wrong." He says, leaning over her and scrutinizing her face with that intense, red-eyes gaze of his. And for all of the experience in the world in pleasuring men, Sayuri was altogether speechless and unable to think for a solid second after this little maneuver. "This isn't like you."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Is her breathless reply, the shift in position having taken some of the wind from her lungs. "But if this is the position you prefer, then-"
"You're not here, not really." His head shakes. "Something distracts you."
Scrambling to regain control of the situation, she flashes her best sensual smirk. "Perhaps it's simply the handsome face right before my eyes."
"Sayuri." His tone brokers no argument, no coy attempt at changing the subject, and the oiran feels her smile wane somewhat from shock. Even more so when he leans back and releases his hold on her hips. "I will not continue with this if your mind is someplace else. It doesn't feel right."
"What?"
"Should you simply wish to talk, I will stay." He resolutely declares, looking back at the courtesan with shrewd conscious and the unmistakable flair of disappointment. "But if physical pleasure is all you are after, then I will return to my living quarters."
Damn, could her chest hurt any worse than it already did? Seeing him look at her like that…she sat up, hands propping her up from the floor.
"Stay. We will talk if you wish."
"Is that what you want as well?" He questions, pinning her with a stare she didn't quite want to return. "If my company is something you must force, I don't see the point."
"I want your company." She pleads, desperation starting to show through the cracks in her facade. "I want you to stay, I just…I can't-"
Sayuri cuts her sentence short abruptly, head turning to look away. She can't bear lying, but telling the truth meant being vulnerable to him once more. And if he indeed was simply another man to leave her behind, could she afford that?
"Can't what?" Katakuri waits for an answer, but doesn't receive one. With a gentle hand on her cheek, he brings her back to look at his face. "What is it?"
Those eyes…so disarming. Oh, how much she wanted to fall into them, to spill her heart out and trust that he'd be there to catch the shattered pieces and put her back together. Oh how much she wanted to believe he was the man she'd dared dream would be hers…
When silence is his only answer, pain flickers across the scarred man's expression. His voice is husky with it. "Don't you trust me?"
Bottom lip quivering, she purses them together and swallows hard. The tell-tale signs of emotion settle behind her nose and eyes. No…no crying now. "I don't know if I can…"
"What changed? When we first met, you opened your heart. You spoke of personal things, and entrusted those truths to me." His thumb brushes underneath her eye, stroking her cheek gently. "Where is the Sayuri I met that night? The one who loved me in ways I'll never forget? The one I have fallen for as well?"
Loved. Her head shakes back and forth at the word, and whatever restraint she'd possess breaks as the words flood out. "How can you know? You've been in Wano for a few weeks, and already you claim it was love, but that can't be. We know so little of one another. I won't give in to such honeyed words."
Katakuri's eyes flicker back and forth between her own, trying to keep up with her words and piecing together what had her so distant.
"And even if it was love, in the end, what is it all for?" The first of the tears slides down her cheek, wetting the palm of his hand. "You'll still go back to your own land with your family. When whatever this is with Kaido is finished, you'll leave."
"Sayuri-"
She doesn't let him sway her. "Perhaps you have a wife to return to, a son or daughter that depend on you. People who do love you, who can love you…and I'll still be here. The same oiran I've always been, in this god-forsaken pleasure hall, waiting for the next man to come and do all the same things, tell me the same words from your mouth, and yet again leave me alone at the end of the night.
"I can't give you my heart, Katakuri. Because you'll take it with you back to Totto Land, and I'll have nothing left when you do. I can't give you that power." She sobs, emotions so raw racking through her, making her shake. And for all of that, she knew she was doomed. Katakuri already had that power, even now. Too little, too late, all of this.
He's silent for a long time, taking in everything she'd said. His expression is softer, understanding. Katakuri's thumb still strokes her cheek in gentle motions, and truthfully she accepts the small comfort. It's the least he can do for putting her through all of this.
"I have no wife. No child of my own." He says in quiet way, soothing to her distraught ears. "Many depend on me for what I can do, out of convenience, out of expectation, pressure. There are few who value me for who I am, rather than what I am. Even fewer I've ever trusted to the extend to see me without the scarf. You are amongst those people.
"I will return home, eventually. That much is true. But I've hoped to ask you to come with me, when I do."
Men will tell you what you want to hear, sweet nothings to tug your heart strings. Sayuri's head shakes sadly. "You cannot. Black Maria would never let me leave."
"I wasn't planning on giving her the choice." He remarks, eyes narrowing slightly. "The only one with the choice is you, Sayuri. If you wish it, you would return to Totto Land with me."
It had been such an emotionally turbulent day, and his words were only serving to make her more unsure and confused. "You say you have no wife, and yet are so swift to claim love. It is naive and foolish, to think that what we have is as real as you say. To think it would ever work…"
"I have lived many years, and have felt many things, Sayuri." He says with a curious tilt of his head. Nothing she said seemed to faze him at all. Taking his hand from her cheek, he reaches down for her own, and guides it to his chest, just above his heart. Beneath her palms, she feels it beat with a strength unmatched. "I can't speak to your own feelings for me, but if there's one thing that is true…I know what I feel, and just how strongly, at that. Love feels insufficient to describe it."
Words fail the oiran, who sits there in emotional shambles. Sayuri can't seem to formulate a reply, but the distance she'd tried to keep between them was altogether ruined, here and now. Eyes shining with moisture, she stares up at the man so willing to dedicate himself to her. Black Maria's cautionary words ring hollow against the unwavering devotion in his expression. At least, that's what she'd like to believe.
"Kata…" She mutters weakly, her thoughts too monumental, too overwhelming, to properly voice.
"Sayuri." He says, the traces of his smile returning now that she wasn't being so aloof. His hand once more guides her own, this time up to his lips to place a gentle kiss upon her knuckles. "If words alone are not enough, then allow me to show you?"
It's a question. A choice. One that the blue-haired beauty can only agree to, giving into the desire no amount of telling herself otherwise would deny. Hope radiates down below the confusion and hurt. Hope that he means what he says, and that despite it all, Black Maria was wrong about him. She nods, letting him pull her closer to place his lips to hers in a soft kiss.
She's lowered back onto the floor, Katakuri's strength making sure she didn't hurt herself on the way down, and those attentive hands of his caress with a slowness that almost hurts from how loving it feels. Sweet and soft, her breaths come out as airy gasps. When Katakuri put his mind to it, clearly he could make a girl feel like she was lighter than a feather, and softer than the finest of silk kimonos.
Succumbing to his attention is so easy. The craving and yearning is finally sated, having his hands on her, his lips moving against hers in a way that makes her heart thud. He's all-consuming in the best way. When she tries to reach for his still-hardened cock once more, he's swift to deny her. Any attempt of trying to pleasure him in return is rebuffed without a word. This was only about Sayuri, and the oiran truly didn't know what to do with that knowledge.
Around the swells of her breasts, then cupping the flesh with reverence. The softest of squeezes makes her bite her lip. And then to the plains of her stomach, along to her side, caressed with one finger and then two. There's something so intimate about the way he touches her, in a way she couldn't fully describe.
"You are truly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on." He mutters against her mouth, teeth scraping subtly along the edges. Through her eyelashes, she sees the way his gaze is clouded with lust. "With the fiery spirit of a warrior, and a heart of golden sun."
They'll act as though they care, touch your skin and call you beautiful.
Heart full, she moans with need. Whatever foreplay they'd initiated before doesn't hold a candle to the way his words make her wet and ready. Her legs squeeze his thighs, toes curling and shifting in place. Needing to steady herself, her arms wrap around his neck, keeping him close. All of this desire is nearly uncontainable in her body. Without an outlet, without him inside of her, she thinks she'll be consumed entirely.
Katakuri doesn't tease. He grants her that mercy. And while she is sure he would be content to touch her at his leisure the rest of the night over, it's clear that she couldn't stand such a pace tonight. She needed more. He was willing to provide.
His hips retreat back enough to align his tip to her entrance. Legs widening just a bit more to give him room, Sayuri's breath holds in her chest in anticipation of the stretch, of the intrusion that she craved like a drug. Her gaze held his own, eyes begging him to enter her. She'd resort to verbally begging too, if she had to.
Katakuri's forehead drops to her own, and in the space of his long exhale, his cock pushes past the base of her core, slowly, lovingly. A keen, a whine, is all the encouragement she can manage. Each inch feels like heaven, or something even more divine than that. It's only once he's reached the apex, the deepest he can go, that she thinks to breathe again, getting a little dizzy from lack of oxygen.
Corded, muscled arms lay at either side of her head to cage her beneath him, a protective screen between her and the rest of the country that sought only to use her. He was her shield, comforting and close.
And when he thrusts, it's slow and careful. Passionate. Measured. Making love. She wasn't a quick fuck for the night. He made love to her, taking his time to feel her, to make her feel good. Each time his hips met the back of her thighs, it hammered another nail into her own heart's coffin. She was inextricably, undeniably, in love with this man.
For an eternity, his cock stroked her cunt without hurry, but Katakuri could only take such a pace for so long. His own body needed the relief. Almost without meaning to, his pace quickens, bit by bit, never too overwhelming.
In the throes of passion, words of devotion and love will fall from their lips...
Fall they did. Lost in the way her cunt made him feel, heart in his throat, declarations of love, of commitment, and so many things that Sayuri had long ago given up ever hoping to hear, sprang from his lips. Promises Sayuri knew he would not break. His love was unmatched, his words full of raw emotion and the lust that burned his chest.
So caught up in the moment, he bundled her in his arms and lifted the bluenette flush against his chest, thrusting up into her at a new angle, sat back on his haunches. With whatever strength and sense she had left, she clung to him for dear life, lips plastered to his in a sloppy and uncoordinated kiss. Until even that became untenable, her sounds forcing her to break the connection.
The oiran's wails were borne of both pleasure and joy, her orgasm's peak rising in tandem with her hope and heart. They crested in unison, a trembling sensation as she came matching the words of love she returned to him, whispered and cried out and keened in low moans. It was a feeling she'd never had before, in all her years as a courtesan. She doubted she'd find such an experience anywhere else again.
Katakuri was not long after, stilling deep inside of her with a guttural groan, arms nearly crushing in their strength as he held her tight. Her limbs shook, the world around her deafened from the power of her orgasm and the weight of this moment's magnitude. Sayuri could do nothing but pant in exhaustion, greedily refilling the air in her lungs. Spots swam in the corner of her eyes.
Eyes refocusing, Katakuri peered into her face, searching for what might be on the bluenette's mind. But he needn't look too hard, because a tired, genuine smile lit across her mouth, and she reached up to touch his cheek with affection, the stitches on his scar rough in texture.
"When you return to Totto Land," she begins, voice still not altogether back to normal. Hearing just how hoarse she sounded, she gave a huffed laugh, "I will go with you. Not because I want to be free of this pleasure hall, but because my heart is full of love for you as well, Kata. That is a truth I cannot deny."
Relief crosses his face, his smile returning a moment later. And as they came down from their passionate, sensual high, a new certainty took place of the many questions they'd both dwelled over.
No matter what was to come, their love would prevail, one way or another.
