Yorin D. Tress

one piece oc RP blog

[mischievous-misdirection]

Consciousness is nothing but a struggle, even outside the water weakness persists, injuries worse than the few moments of a mumbled thanks could process. Surely starting over is better than dying, the idea of home more appealing than ever. Would mother still allow it? Would she still want the disappointing child that decided to run off instead of committing to duty?

Yorin’s sleep is thankfully dreamless. When dark eyes bead open it's to the lazy buzz of unfamiliar faces checking their vitals and another replacing a IV bag. What remained of their clothes have been traded for a simple navy colored hospital gown, the stink of sea water scrubbed from her hair and skin. “Where—” voice cracks from lack of use, Yorin frowns, swallows and tries again. “Where am I?” Hand pushes at unruly blue coils, a flash of splintering wood and screams bolts through their mind. “My crew?” Tired eyes blink around the room for figures in a similar condition but every other bed is empty. “Ah.” Defeat, heavy and knowing has Yorin relaxing again, eyes cast low. “I'm the only one then?”

The quiet sadness that darkens her features is interrupted by the appearance of her savior in red; medical personnel stiffly saluting. Yorin glances up at the man's face but can hardly summon the strength to smile. “Thank you—” A pause and lips curl just enough to not be a grimace. “You had no incentive to save me and I have nothing to repay you.” Cadence speaks of blue blood breeding, doubts firmly planted of a life filled with piracy. “If I could borrow a long range transponder snail I could procure something. I know nothing on the sea is free.”

[pxison]

Ichiji chooses to ignore virtually everything the woman said besides her request to have access to long distance communications. If he wasn't intent on getting one thing and one thing only, he'd have laughed in her face right then and there. It was better to keep his cards close to his chest until he told her exactly what she'd be paying him back with.

A backhanded gesture has the medical team rushing out of the room with one doctor brazenly shooting a worried glance back at the pirate before leaving them alone. He'd correct that sort of behavior later but for now, his prize awaits her fate.

"Are you feeling better?" He starts, tone not indicating anything but his eyes do wander all across her form without settling on a single feature of hers. That gown was a hindrance but patience would surely reward him with a boon of smooth skin and soft flesh to toy with.

"I'm afraid there has been a misunderstanding. You see, there is something I've already decided to take from you as recompense."

Standing close enough to grasp the cots railing, Ichiji leans over her and finally lets his teeth show, bared like a wolf over a hapless lamp. Releasing one hand he lets it take hold of her calf, his grip tightening over the muscle there.

"Your body should suffice."

[mischievous-misdirection]

The dismissal of staff is odd but she figures it's for privacy when one of them retrieves a snail. The worry one nurse sends her way is missed, attention on red savior. “I've been better.” Weary sigh flares her nostrils. Physically and mentally Yorin is a wreck, the fire of ambition snuffed out a few months after leaving Fishman Island with little worry.

No, starting over isn't an option , the only right thing to do is mourn.

“Oh?” Thick brow arches, suspicions raised and eyes narrowing. Yorin musters enough energy to push up from her reclining posture to recoil when the man draws closer. His smooth hands overly familiar and smile too sharp. “I—” She coughs and clears her throat before reaching down to cover his hands with hers and remove it. “I am not a whore and the only reason you are still standing is because you saved me.” Her hand withdraws as if burnt, disgusted with the thought of touching him longer than necessary. Whatever pain the sudden movements births doesn't reach her eyes.

“Give me a number and my family will pay half now and half later for my safe return.” Disgust thins her lips into a scowl, contempt nearly pulling their features into an open snarl. “Surely you could buy all manner of holes with it.”

[pxison]

The woman was still out of it even as the boosters on his boots blew debris away from them. Perfect. There would be no struggle getting her on board and she might even be grateful enough for being rescued to make getting what he wanted easier. All the better for him in the end. Positioning his arms under her, Ichiji decides to carry his new captive over his shoulder like a bag of flour as he rocketed off the doomed vessel and back over the top of his own.

Clones scattered from his landing area and busied themselves with either preparing the snail for departure as he knew they would or were too busy dumbly saluting at him with nothing to do. It was to these clones that he would hand the woman off to.

"Make sure this one recovers nicely. I'd hate for our new guest to suffer any ailments after just being rescued from the water."

The niceties were for the woman's ears only in case she was still conscious enough to potentially worry about her situation. The soldiers knew better though as any woman brought aboard one of the prince's vessels were unlikely to be freed until their uses came to an end.

Watching his men go with the woman in tow, Ichiji turns on his heels and wraps up departure preparations with a few curt commands. When he was done with that, he would take time out of his busy schedule to visit that pirate wench properly and see if wasting medical supplies would truly be worth it or not.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Consciousness is nothing but a struggle, even outside the water weakness persists, injuries worse than the few moments of a mumbled thanks could process. Surely starting over is better than dying, the idea of home more appealing than ever. Would mother still allow it? Would she still want the disappointing child that decided to run off instead of committing to duty?

Yorin’s sleep is thankfully dreamless. When dark eyes bead open it's to the lazy buzz of unfamiliar faces checking their vitals and another replacing a IV bag. What remained of their clothes have been traded for a simple navy colored hospital gown, the stink of sea water scrubbed from her hair and skin. “Where—” voice cracks from lack of use, Yorin frowns, swallows and tries again. “Where am I?” Hand pushes at unruly blue coils, a flash of splintering wood and screams bolts through their mind. “My crew?” Tired eyes blink around the room for figures in a similar condition but every other bed is empty. “Ah.” Defeat, heavy and knowing has Yorin relaxing again, eyes cast low. “I'm the only one then?”

The quiet sadness that darkens her features is interrupted by the appearance of her savior in red; medical personnel stiffly saluting. Yorin glances up at the man's face but can hardly summon the strength to smile. “Thank you—” A pause and lips curl just enough to not be a grimace. “You had no incentive to save me and I have nothing to repay you.” Cadence speaks of blue blood breeding, doubts firmly planted of a life filled with piracy. “If I could borrow a long range transponder snail I could procure something. I know nothing on the sea is free.”

[pxison]

Niji squeezes Yorin's throat on instinct hearing so much dirt get thrown around that he could not deny. His only excuse is that he didn't need to be the responsible one as all their training focused pinpoint on Ichiji's shoulders and not his or especially Yonji's. He could do whatever the hell he damn well pleased and he wouldn't have no bitch tell him otherwise.

Having a pampered life played a part in his decision to throttle the woman in his clutches deeming that the consequences wouldn't be too harsh, and Judge wouldn't care too much about a little infighting so long as it stayed within Germas borders. Yorin could go crying to their family, but violence should be expected from marrying into a family dealing in lives and blood money.

"Mind your own business you fucking wench!"

Feeling the need to use more than plain old flesh on flesh contact, Niji fired up his hand so that when he swung it around to smack Yorin across the face the impact would hurt as much as possible with or without haki to soften the blow. He wouldn't pull his punches either, as if he had the capacity to in any case. A sound like a thunderclap could be heard echoing as far as air could carry it.

"Go ahead and tell him, see which one of us he'll take the side of! I doubt it'd be a foreigner bitch like you."

[mischievous-misdirection]

In all her time here she expected violence sooner. Knew it would be Niji first but the blow still comes in slow motion. Head jerks violently, cheek no doubt singed from the added electricity and Yorin stumbles a hand full of steps. He'd really hit them .. trembling hand moves to the tender flesh and hiss bares their teeth. It'd leave a mark, if she's unlucky it'd scar.

Slowly hand falls to their side, dark eyes snapping towards Niji and there's bloodlust bubbling beside the cracked veneer. ”You gutless worm.” Speaking they taste blood and without hesitation spit at Niji's shirt. “Do you really think he wants a strung out son.” Smirk turns wicked as Yorin tips her head back to look down her nose. “What's worse, the fact that he wouldn't care because you're a piss poor back up or you're not even that?” With a temper like this Niji’s a prince in name alone, no amount of lying and pressed suits could make him pass for a decent husband.

Hand shoots out from their side, attaching four tethers to the stone at the end of the hall and Niji’s cheek in one smooth motion; added threads sure to send him through said wall. “You're worse than useless.” Index and thumb come together in a sharp snap and the prince is violently yanked off his feet. Yorin only turns to leave when a loud crunch and crumbling stone are heard, Niji would not leave a permanent mark on their body, let alone face. The gaul to strike her at all still has ears ringing and cheek aching.

Would Yonji even notice? Would he care and if so would it steam from some childish wound of a brother touching his things? Thoughts sour her mood further, the delusion of routine, a silly familiar face had weakened Yorin's resolve. All of them are like that. All of them will snap eventually and she can only hope to dodge the next blow.

[pxison]

Mean Sentences, Vol. 3 @mischievous-misdirection asked: "A lot of people are saying you've become an embarrassment - a liability." roach emoji

"What the hell?" He didn't expect that, normally he seldom encountered Yorin around Germa which probably was for the best despite being in on a few out of an endless list of problems the prince had. What he didn't want was for any of that to become common knowledge and as far as he knew, Yorin wasn't one to let that slip. There was no other way he could've slipped so far as to be the leading rumor mill to a bunch of pathetic help.

"Who are these 'people' that seem to give a shit about what I'm doing? I don't give a fuck what anyone thinks of me, but what I am curious about is how that conclusion was drawn."

He was feeling a certain violent urge that day and being told something that as far as he knew amounted to a rumor by someone he didn't exactly like was enough of a catalyst to push him to an extreme. Fuck devil fruit powers, fuck haki! He wasn't going to let some uppity whore that got wedded into royalty tell him what she thought she heard!

Currents run rampant in his veins to allow him to close the distance and clamp a sparking hand over vulnerable throat. Niji would squeeze if he didn't want to hear a response and it better be good enough or else Germas resident blue nightmare was going to have yet another fit.

"Tell me how I'm the embarrassment when you're just a tramp spreading her legs on a whim!"

[mischievous-misdirection]

"Where to begin."

Did the second prince not like the truth? Good. Yorin's lips pull up slightly with satisfaction. Of all the royalty on Germa, Niji is least deserving of the title. They'd given him chance after chance to show something that resembled decently but alas he's determined to be the worst person she knew. Later Yorin would admit her needling is childish but next to Niji’s … everything she's as good as a saint.

"Have you forgotten overlooking the error in Germa's shipping manifest? Your lackadaisical position as the second son, barely a runner up to Ichiji who's no prize either." Niji doesn't deserve the hushed whispers she delivers the list of crimes in, another courtesy wasted on him. "Tell me what is it your actually do here besides whine and find distractions to feel empty hours because daddy messed you up?" It's sadly all of their excuse and after nearly two years of tiptoeing around the trauma they're rightly sick of it. Ichiji and Niji are by far the worst, both extremes in their own right. Yorin could ignore the insults but the entitlement would drive them to violence.

Was it too far or Niji in one of his moods? The pressure around her throat is as sudden as it is crushing. Yorin stumbles back, hands moving to cover his. "Release me you roach!" A nervous sweat beads through pristine make-up, frown tipping into an open sneer. "And you're no better than a whore yourself!" The preamble of whispering is gone as haki dyed nail dig into bullet-proof skin like warm bread.

"Hurt me, I dare you." She smirks, body relaxing in his hold. "I'd love to see the look on your face when Judge finds out."

[mischievous-misdirection]

(@pxison - hubby coming to bother thee wife 🥺)

As Germa crossed into an endless expanse of frigid open waters that forced them to maneuver past a broken up ice field, Yonji attempted fruitlessly to warm himself up by an open fire. The one thing he cursed about his cable bound strength was the inability to regulate his body temperature normally especially in his arms. His forearms and hands always felt ice cold to the touch and even burying them within a comically sized winter coat did nothing to calm the chattering in his teeth. Rubbing them together, and risking burning them in the flame did little to help his situation. Dark eyes light up when he spots Yorin enter the room and so an idea was born. Without so much as a greeting, he'd snatch his wife up into beefy cold arms and swallow her up with him in his coat. The body heat Yonji found definitely helped stave off the biting chill even if fingers that probably felt like icicles dug around in the nooks and crannies of Yorin’s body for even more of that heavenly warmth. Soon he'd bury his nose in the back of Yorins head to be comforted by not only her presence but also a familiar scent as well. He'd hold her like this until either he was told to stop or there happened to be better options to keep warm.

Born on a summer island, winter’s were always mild, pleasant even but Yorin never favored the season. Overcast and rain made the lush paradise a dreary theater of shadows, rolling hills obscured by fog more days than not. This is real winter, chilled to the bone desolation. Yes, Yorin expected to eventually visit the North Blue but if this is what she had to look forward to, the people could keep it.

Yorin's hands have constantly been filled with a cup of tea to keep the cold at bay but it stubbornly seeps in through the walls. It's awful and no amount of bundling and layers really makes them feel summer's exist at all in this stretch of ocean. How the clones, let alone the staff moved about between buildings is beyond her. 

Passing through one of the castle's many foryers they spot Yonji still in his coat and doing battle with the chill. Why hadn't Judge thought to make their suits immune to the weather or at least regulate temperature properly if he wanted to battle for the blue is a question she's forced to file away once Yonji spots her. Being shrouded in his coat is one thing; cute even, but his frozen fingers rudely shoved where he can fit them has her screaming. Elbows drive into his belly as she thrashes and yells: “You’re cold! This isn't funny!” In bed is one thing, she's guilty of pushing icy toes into her husband's back for relief but the cold has settled in the hidden cables bundled in his arms and it cuts right through the fur lined dress she's wearing.

“Yonji.” She huffs, limbs relaxing into the torture of warming him up, their combined body heat easily making the prince's coat a familiar, toasty paradise. “At least sit down.” The bite in their voice is gone after finally finding a place the cold can't tread.

[mischievous-misdirection]

One man couldn’t really be this insufferable? How many backhanded remarks was that now? Ichiji could have very easily kept his mouth shut and enjoyed what was being done to him, he even seemed to be enjoying it in spite of flapping lips. Yorin had hoped he’d be over taken by pleasure and they could relax into a silence only broken by labored breathing or approving moans, instead they got whatever the hell this bedroom talk was. A secret lab under Germa that collected the prince’s semen shared so casually and yet so weird and off putting. Did the other brothers know about this farm? Yonji was not being milked or he was an endless void, both were … concerning? 

The most offensive part was that (somehow) Ichiji believed this coming together was his own doing. The crowned prince was so magnetic and so irresistible Yorin was a slave to his musk that she fell to her knees to pleasure him. 

It was gag worthy 

Ichiji was repellent in a different but equally annoying way to Niji. All of these thoughts somehow haven’t made themselves fully known on their face, hands still moving lush breasts back and forth, eyes flicking from the oozing crown to the prince’s face. “Is that so?” Tongue dances across full lips, head leaning to one side to rest on Ichiji’s left hand. “What if I want to stop?” Hands begin to slow from the eager pace, growing more idle as they speak. “I could do whatever I wanted to you?”  Lips turn  further into his hand and press a warm kiss on the last knuckle of his thumb, teeth chasing away the heat. “Keep you here for as long as I want or worse—” She smiles, leaning forward as if to stand. “I could leave you wanting,” hands stop but breast remain pushed snuggly on either side of his cock. “This isn’t very proper or becoming of a lady.” Face twists up in feigned thought. “And you’ve made such a mess of me already.” Arms loosened their tension enough for breast to sag aside and expose the sticky wet tunnel his cock sat in, throbbing and proud. “ That wouldn’t be very fair, now would it?”

[pxison]

The notion of there being a stop was equally tantalizing as it was infuriating. He wouldn't stand being left on the precipice after all of this, the only time he enjoyed a good edging was when he did it to himself and not some wench! Upon the threat of those soft breasts leaving completely, Ichiji springs to action finally finding a reason to use one of his hands.

Carding a palm through Yorin's hair, he gets a firm grip that threatens the scalp should he tug too hard. He wanted her to bend more, tilt her head reverently downwards and not look at him in that way which made him twitch out of his control.

"I would suggest continuing what you were doing." or else hanging up in the air as nails dig slightly in where they could. He juts his hips forwards slightly if only to slide his dick further along that delightful cleavage and closer to the throat. "If you don't then I'll take over from here and get what I want from you."

And after? Well, he didn't care much for that. The woman could go simpering out of the baths if she wanted to, though he was beginning to doubt that was a possibility with this one's stubborn personality. If she decided to leave him wanting, he'd exact proper punishment later after he took care of his issue himself. Either way, he intended to get off with or without Yorin's cooperation.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Try as they might, Ichiji continues to dig himself a grave. Yorin was patient, teasing, using all the charms mother blessed her with and this man is dancing on her last nerve. Threatening to stop is the only thing that sets him to action, a hand tangled in coily blue hair enough to have Yorin sitting up straighter, expression darkening. Violence streaks across dark eyes, haki and devil fruit boiling under twitching fingers.

“You're enjoying yourself so suddenly now Ichiji?” Hands press up on either side of her breast to snuggly trap the prince again; a thread soundlessly attaching to his balls and blue speckled tiles between them. “You admit you want me.” A knowing smile creases her lips, expression insufferably smug, he is no better than his brother's when it came right down to it. “Jealousy really isn't your color.” Turning away from him the thread on his testicles activities, the playfully firm tugs from before nothing to the sudden violent jerk that threatens to drag him under.

“Forgot that I always have the upper hand already?” As she speaks palms slide away from breast to free dancing fingers, one thread attached to his back and the far side of the pool, another to his chin and her finger that she uses to pull his attention down to look her in the eye. “Release me, I'm bored of this game.” Again his balls are taken, devil fruit insisting they meet the tile. “Sooner, rather than later.”

[pxison]

Yonji only reeled more when he didn't get the reaction he hoped for. he didn't see that physically cornering his wife away from all the others was bad in anyway and only thought about his own wants and needs. And while those were innocent for the moment his judgement was clearly ever so slightly tilted by the free flowing alcohol he'd had access to all night while watching Yorin have fun. His cheeks burned as he began to insist upon his point, an unknown mixture of humility joining the fray.

"I'm saying you've been spending an awful lot of time with these other people. I would've thought you would've come to me sooner, but you hadn't." He must be getting too spoiled with the attention he'd already been getting if this was the breaking point. "I wasn't about to ask to dance either because I know I'm shit at it and I'm not about to embarrass myself in front of a crowd."

Yonji again tries to physically coerce Yorin somewhere else. A decision unlikely to go well with how badly he was already floundering to excuse his actions tonight. "Stay with me, I promise I won't misbehave if you do." He had a feeling there was a good chance he would not have his way at least not as entirely as he wanted, and he'd have to settle with that. No amount of tantrums this time would be able to fix the problems he'd cause otherwise.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Is he jealous? Yorin hadn’t given much thought to whether or not the boys could feel something so petty and she doesn't see how it could serve the perfect soldier Judge was looking to build. It’s almost cute the way he clings, needy and pathetic but Yorin’s frown doesn’t bulge.

“Yonji, I spend more than enough time showering you with attention at home. I want to dance.” The act might as well be illegal on Germa, any emotional expression beyond rage silently frown upon. “If you want to monopolize my attention at parties you’ll need to learn because standing next to you all night would be boring and unproductive.”  This is one of the rare family excursions where the conversation isn’t dominated by military conquest or potential contracts. It’s refreshing to break free and be reminded that the larger population isn’t emotionally neutered and can hold a pleasant conversation.  

Nostrils flare with a sigh, head gently shaking in the negative. “Yonji, no. Now I have to go apologize to the man you yanked me away from. You will continue to behave because your father won’t be happy otherwise.” They can picture Ichiji taking offense to Yonji’s childish actions, always ready to take note of slights. Hands slide up the smooth fabric of her husband’s dress uniform, up and up past his neck to cup his jaw. “The nights almost over, I’m still your wife and still returning to Germa with you.” Thumb slides against his cheek, expression softening to a gentle smile with eyebrows softly raised. “You can be my good boy for just a little longer, right?”

[pxison]

ROYAL, FANTASY ROMANCE AND SPICE @mischievous-misdirection asked: (corner): behind a corner of the great hall, receiver corners sender after seeing them dance with someone else. (:

Yonji was left stewing in a sea of turmoil as he watched Yorin dance on at a ball Germa rarely attended except for official reasoning. The drink he was nursing was one of numerous others tonight and it did nothing to help ease his mood or soothe the pinch in his brow. Hell, even the antics he and Niji would get up to weren't much help and so his older brother had left to go screw around somewhere else out of earshot of wherever their father decided to be tonight.

How Yorin had fun was none of his business but the lack of ability in doing more with his wife was beginning to tear at him. He never expected or wanted to be worried about such a thing but here he was getting increasingly agitated with each person that got to be in her presence getting to enjoy how soft they were and their company even for a little bit. An odd sort of needy jealousy was bubbling up then, but he didn't know that was what he was feeling just that he had a desire to have Yorin's attention all to himself and nothing else mattered or could stop him.

He'd wait until the music lulled in-between pieces in which partners were exchanged before bullying his way through the crowd. Gasps and exclamations were ignored as he rudely shouldered whoever was unfortunate enough to get in his way. Large hands were almost eager in the way they guided or more so pushed Yorin to follow him out of the crowd and to some quieter darker space. At least now no one could hear a prince of Germa border on a harsh whine like a dog for more love and affection.

"I think you've done enough dancing for one night."

[mischievous-misdirection]

A family outing is rare, each sibling dressed in gold trimmed regalia is certainly a sight. Yorin of course had chosen a shimming forest green gown to match with Yonji's color of choice; no chance to miss which brother belongs to her. All in all it's a pleasantly uneventful evening. Yorin happily spends the night catching up with familiar faces and charming new ones. This is their element, their war of choice and persuasion. A subtle word, a dance, a smile enough to sway favorable winds in her new family's direction.

It's the fifth or six dance that breaks the handsome faces and soft touch of diplomats lining up to dance with the women. Yonji's grip is aware but unkind as he leads her away from worried or confused looks. Yorin can already imagine what they'd say, she's been on the other side many a time. Speculation, scandal, it is an addictive poison the elites love to gouge themselves on.

She has never felt small next to Yonji in spite of their large size difference. Wide and tall, she knows he makes an imposing figure on the battlefield but this is polite company and all but accosting her to a dark corner and having the gaul to say she's had enough dancing. Yorin is appalled; the embarrassment of having a controlling partner clings hot and angry to their cheeks. “And what exactly do you mean by that?” Yorin has crossed her arms under her bosom, a single green lacquered finger raised in warning. “Choose your words very carefully, Yonji. What you just did was unacceptable and I will not tolerate it.” The usual warm raspy timber of their voice is pitched lower, anger barely disguised. Had she stepped out of line or been improper the sudden cornering would still not be deserved but understood.

They are a pair, one of the many faces of Germa. Yonji could at least act accordingly.

[pxison]

ROYAL, FANTASY ROMANCE AND SPICE @mischievous-misdirection asked: (taken): sender is taken prisoner by receiver on their ship at sea after a shipwreck. 🤔 ichiji maybe?

Germa typically did not involve themselves with the scum of the sea as it was usually not worth the trouble and that unless it was dealing with underworld goods, they were above breathing the same air as such criminals.

The oversized mushi Ichiji had taken out on an assignment entrusted to him alone was on the way out to sea after every objective was accomplished. Soldiers had been lost in the short conflict, but they'd be easily replaced in a years' time and so quickly forgotten about.

The only reason he paid any attention to the debris field at all was because they nearly ran atop the sinking vessel through the dense fog, and the reason he commands the seafaring snail be stopped was because something, or rather someone caught his eye.

Any kind of desperation disgusted the prince but perhaps there was an opportunity to find here. Bodies littered the seas surrounding chunks of a pirate vessel he did not recognize the jolly roger of but there was at least one survivor weakened and slumped over floating planks delaying the inevitable. She was quite the looker too even from the distance between them. He hadn't gotten the chance to pick up souvenirs from the island he'd just left but maybe this woman would do.

Criminal or not, a hole was a hole, and he didn't want to return home with a depleted supply of women he no doubt would be dragged on for. His raid suit made it easy to fly over and land on what he imagined was the remnants of the deck, grabbing the woman by the arm, he drags her up slightly in the hopes there'd be a reaction that'd indicate she wasn't a corpse after all.

"You are being rescued, do not resist."

[mischievous-misdirection]

The sea calls to the blunted edges of her mind. Usually neutral in the destruction it caused, now pulling at Yorin's feet, legs, body paralyzed under the weight of the oceans ire. Consciousness is a blur of color and the gentle bobbing of waves, the smell of gunpowder and death pulls at quickly fading memories. There was an exchange of cannon fire, her crew eagerly pacing the deck ready to board an enemy vessel. Had it been a sea beast or a quirk of The New World? The ocean itself had opened up with a deep gasp, gulping up both vessels then expelling them into the air with a cough. The initial surge sent men and women alike overboard; the lucky were crushed between the vessels, others worse off impelled my debris or dragged under in the chaos.

Maybe it was the devil's luck that spared her, a short life of paralyzed fear before one rough wave tosses her over the small lifeline The Misdirection could offer its captain in the end. Had their mother expected an end like this? Had she gotten the letters Yorin sent weekly or was the steady raise if their bounty enough?

Pressure surges through her arm, body lifting out of the icy clutches of seawater. Rescued? Eyes bead open to a field of red, natural and jarring on the ocean but a welcomed sight if it meant safety now. “Mmnh.” The smallest sound of acknowledgment, the curse of her fruit still zapping the little strength muscles could muster to assist in dragging body out of the waters.

Would she start again after they parted ways? What berri and treasure crew amassed lost along with them. Yorin's had their fill of piracy for now, the gentle slopping verdant hills of home all she wants now.

How could she possibly repay her red savior?

[pxison]

Yonji was neutral to pain if it was inflicted purposefully in the bedroom so the only answer he could give to that was a firm shrug. Breathing hitches and shakes slightly at the ideas Yorin continues to spin expertly in his head. It really was becoming a tempting offer, subtle friction where nobody would know but Yorin and himself.

His chest getting teased has him on alert and a hand comes to cover the nipple that gets tugged to protect it from more abuse. Turning tightly so he'd face his wife head on, Yonji didn't look so unsure anymore.

"It sounds too good to refuse. I'll try it but only because I want to know what it's like, see how long I can last without asking for it to come off." In his mind, Yonji knew he would not come to Yorin to have it removed even if it made him uncomfortable and rubbed him raw. If there was something the siblings especially Yonji were bad at, it was knowing their limits on anything and thinking it was a show of weakness to back out or relent.

"I can handle something like this no problem. You can go and tie it on me now, before someone wonders why it's taking me so long to retrieve some weights." He practically tore the shirt he wore off himself, bouncing his pecs when they were revealed oh so proud of his body and always willing to preen for attention whenever he could.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Not exactly the reason for the harness; Yonji makes it sound like there's a record to be beat but they look past that for now. An eager yes is all Yorin needs to hear for her face to light up in a smile.

If all of married life is so simple the next fifty years couldn't be so bad.

“I know you're big and strong.” Yorin leans up on tip toes and plants a chaste kiss to cheek. "But if you don't like it, come back. Suffering isn't noble.” Besides if he was rubbed raw, teasing him later tonight wouldn't be as fun. Yorin kisses the prince on the opposite cheeks before gliding away to procure more rope.

Returning a few moments later, hands work to unwind the bundled silk, eyes darting to her husband's chest taking a mental note of his girth. “Shirt off and arms out.” The first rope is laid under his heavy bosom, two lines thick and tight enough it's flush to skin. Yorin quickly ties off sections in small knots, silk winding over broad shoulders is carefully angled to avoid detection from casual viewers. Either side of sensitive nipples are caged, pinched tight enough so each of the man's movements serve to agitate but not impede. Yorin figures he'll survive two hours at the very most if his shying away from her fingers earlier is any indicator.

“There.” Hands pat the perky tops of his pectorals. “Not too tight right?” Fingertips slide between layered ropes checking for pinching or catching but find none.

[pxison]

"I will do no such thing." Begging for anything was not in his genes and wanting him to do so was a laughable offense if he weren't running so dangerously close to snapping. The fringes of his mind seem to grow thinner each and every day, not a good thing but getting what he wants could help with that. What is surprised about as that all did not seem lost and that was enough to prevent violent urges from seeping out.

Instead, when he moves in closer, a hand does not wrap around Yorin's throat and instead finds itself over her stomach. There was no obvious sign that anything was growing yet and for her sake he hoped she wasn't lying to him. It was startling just how quickly he can snap back from the edge of madness to cold composure with a thought.

"How far along are you now? If you hadn't gotten rid of my seed yet, surely someone at least told you that much." A plan was crafting behind those cold eyes continually shielded by the opaque shades he donned.

Maybe he didn't have to resort to force just yet after all, and yet... He'd have to act soon and make a few calls or even meetings with Germa's board of scientists and medical experts to prevent a total loss. Obstacles like his brother, potentially his father and Yorin's devil fruit would be dealt with accordingly.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Can't even beg for the life of his unborn son, pride a poison Ichiji gladly chokes on.

Yorin sucks their teeth watching the prince slither closer with unwelcomed hand out stretched. Her own hand covers his and squeezes. "That's none of your business, now is it?" Is that excitement? The news couldn't even stir passing curiosity forty-eight hours ago. Her hand removes his with a tug but fingers linger, cupping his knuckles in a soft palm. "Were you like this with your own wife?" Coy smile stretches their lips into a thin smile. Did he even know his child's name? Did he care if he didn't?

Doubtful.

"Do you really think your father will approve of this?" That's all Ichiji cares about, approval Judge has no intention of giving and it's almost sad. "The news reaching your wife's father and my mother. It's messy Ichiji." Free hand protectively cups her womb, the life within stubborn she can already tell; a trait shared by both of them unfortunately. "Even for Germa. And what exactly do you plan on telling all of them? Do you really think Yonji will go quietly?" Three kids deep Yorin would like to believe she's earned some protective loyalty and affection from her husband, emotion neutering or not.

[pxison]

While Yorin made a good point bringing up the fact that she wasn't his wife, it didn't ease up the way he dug nails into his palm with fists curled. It wasn't unknown that Ichiji and his own Queen to be were having problems and now those issues extended onto the little girl that was born in very recent memory.

Ichiji hadn't been able to attend her birth as he had more important matters to take care of, but had he known the gender of the baby instead of having it hidden away from him, maybe he could have made the outcome more favorable. Maybe it wasn't too late to do so if worst came to worse if he still could not produce a worthy heir with that impudent woman.

"And if another daughter is born? I won't be able to stand that and the knowledge that one was let slip through my fingers." He was pacing furiously now, working a rut into the floor with how steamed up he was getting allowing his mouth to run more than it should. It didn't help that his mind lingered on the fact that men determined the gender when chromosomes matched up. Did that mean he was flawed to begin with? He could not accept that!

"This is ridiculous, I absolutely cannot risk a litter brimming of the weaker sex! It would reek desperation to have a family so large and not to mention an unsightly stain to the Vinsmoke name..."

[mischievous-misdirection]

Maintaining eye contact was difficult, the more he says the more she wants to roll her eyes. Ichiji continues to be insufferable in spite of Yorin's patience with him. Why she continues to humor his outburst and childish sexism could only be excused by the deadly boredom Germa breeds. They knew the country’s nomadic life would be difficult but an island full of clones and yes men would have driven her mad by now if not for the endless drama of the royal family.

“I find you are always ridiculous.” A scoff, Yorin finally rolling her eyes. Weaker sex? Desperation? Sexist virtual was nothing new, Ichiji has stood on his soapbox and ranted about the fairer sexes supposed shortcomings. And for once the smile still reaches her eyes, Yorin quietly letting the pause sit between them. Should they mention reducing the brothers to putty? Wait that would make her a whore wouldn't it? Maybe the fact that by all rights Reiju should be next in line and could easily exterminate the boys? No, she isn't a threat to him. Reiju is a good girl, loyal. There's always his mother, the saint whose sacrifice was wasted and withered away loving children that grew into murders and rapists.

The whore. The sister. The saint

That's all women are to him. Yorin will mourn his daughter, the burden of growing up here without a father's love, relegated to useless.

Lips part and eyes close as she sighs. “Ichiji, tell me something.” Legs unfold from beneath her thighs but she makes no motion to rise. “Why are you here? Surely you didn't come here to insult me or lament the loss of a son. So get on with it.” Hand gestures to the floor in front of the skirt of her green dress, happily flying the flag of her husband. “Beg, that's why you're here right? You want me to bring your child to term. Say that. Convince me I should hand over an infant for you to poison with the same ilk your father did you.”

[pxison]

Yonji considers for a moment whether or not to say how he'd been in this situation more than one would think. As time progressed, it seemed more and more enemies of Germa would catch on to the fact that its commanders were not entirely flesh and blood humans and began incorporating more armor piercing weapons into their military armaments.

Some of which had been used to do serious damage on him and a factor that was not considered going into the mission. Reminder of a certain red head being upset at the outcome had him breathing a little heavier knowing that if any sibling were to come visit, it'd be Ichiji.

Yorin's soothing presence would not be enough to stop the siblings from butting heads when that happened and honestly Yonji was surprised he wasn't here yet to scold him. It was likely Ichiji was busier with something else as per usual and so his unwanted appearance was thankfully delayed. Just thinking about it makes him reluctant to let go of his wife's hands.

"More important than the job? I've been told the exact opposite most of my life if I'm being honest." He could never imagine being more important than the affairs Judge whet on about and the supposed steps they needed to take towards a goal that seemed further and further still from being accomplished.

"You should probably leave Yorin, before HE gets here." It could already be too late for all he knew, and the only thing his bruised and battered self could do was brace for what came next.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Yorin wants to frown more deeply at the new information but they're not surprised in the slightest. Judge was to blame like all the siblings' poisons and shortcomings. How he thought his children would survive without his boot firmly on their neck was beyond her. Instead her face softens into a gentle smile, weight leaning forward into his warmth. Yonji was ok, they could figure out the rest later. Surely with these injuries he'd be out for a week or more.

Knowing Yonji he'd be restless in a few hours time.

"He?" Eyebrows lower and she glances to the door, tone indicating the visit was unwelcome. "Judge? Ichiji?" Soft hand tightens in his; partly astonished the prince hasn't pulled away yet.

"You just woke up, whatever they want can wait. Honestly this family." Yorin sucks her teeth and crawls further into the hospital bed, shoes kicked off before legs fold under her dress. Carefully free hand moves cords and tubes aside to not snag under her weight before snuggling up to his side with a huff. "If Ichiji comes, I'll just throw him back out."

What could possibly be gained from berating his younger twin? Ichiji was up to his scalp in work of his own volition. Too think he'd take precious time out of his busy schedule for something so petty… on second thought that does sound very much like Ichiji.

"I'd enjoy nothing more." She grins.

[pxison]

He was about to reply with the very thing Yorin practically says to leave out. What was marriage to him? Yonji didn't really have a personal opinion that wasn't influenced by his families' ways, and it showed as the silence continues to draw out and he chews slowly to bide time, soft dark eyes looking off somewhere as though chasing a thought.

"Isn't it for making babies? It's frowned upon to have bastards out of wedlock, and it continues the family name... What else is there?" Genuinely he was confused, round eyes now staring back at Yorin as he gives his response. He was raised to believe one way and one way only. Softness and the comfort of familiarity not even an option when there were soldiers to command and a path to pave for Germas future reclamation of territory.

Liking someone was a new concept and he found it not so difficult to apply that concept to the way he thought of Yorin sometimes and recently. He was growing fond of their presence that was for certain. But a good husband? He wouldn't know that.

"Am I really? A good husband I mean. Because I kind of doubt it." He's aware enough to know he wasn't a good person in general and doesn't think good qualities would apply to his ability to be a proper spouse. "I don't remember doing anything in particular that would be considered 'good'."

[mischievous-misdirection]

“Well yes.” She nods gently. “We haven’t produced a child yet but there’s also companionship.” Words pause as she thinks, they hadn’t exactly done much outside of Germa since the wedding, maybe that should change? “We’re sharing a meal, having a conversation. We could go somewhere I know you like to eat so we could try a floating market. There’s a lot of different stalls, and all sorts of things to try.” Yorin smiles at the idea, he’d love it for sure. “If you have somewhere important to go, a dinner, a party, I’d also go with you, it wouldn’t just have to be you and your siblings. We could dance and get into all sorts of trouble.” Eyebrows flex mischievously as the word trouble. “Do you prefer their company over mine?” Yorin hadn’t been keeping tabs on any of the family's movements but when she spotted them in the wild they were often alone or with staff. It was odd but some families were close and they felt no reason to ask.

“Well, seeing as I’m the only wife you have. I have the authority to say so or not.” A laugh like happy chirps shakes her shoulders. “You haven’t done anything grand, which is fine. I don't care for those types of gestures but you’ve humored me.” They shrug, finally looking away from Yonji, painted nails tracing the rim of her tea cup. “Shown an interest in things I like or wanted to try.” He was exceedingly vanilla but still wore the rope harness, still allowed her to use the sounding rods, allowed her to take the lead. Seeing how his other two brothers acted Yorin had expected some resistance or worse a fight over the matter. “You’ve taken to married life quite well and are clearly open to discussing it.”  Dark eyes peek up from their cup, head craning to the side. “You’ve even been sleeping better, yes?” 

[pxison]

"It was an inevitability." He grunts still seemingly resistant to the pleasure that grew even harder to ignore or prevent the twitches surging his length to life under such a silky soft grasp. It wasn't fair how tempting womanly wiles were, which was exactly why he tried so hard to ignore what he was born to drool over. he would never stoop to the depths his brothers fell to, but he could never deny his nature when he felt cornered into it or when he chose to pursue it for temporary relief.

He scoffs next to hide any more embarrassing sounds. "As if, I could have anyone I wanted you should be grateful I'm letting you touch me now." Another twitch, so sensitive now with all this teasing very unlike the mechanically harsh pumping he was used to that was his duty to allow happen to him.

The grip he has on Yorin tightens only briefly but not painfully as he stabilizes himself, looking away when supple breasts practically swallow his cock in that heavenly cleavage. Were those even real? He could not help a spark of envy he'd sooner let burn his throat and stomach by swallowing the embers than to admit he felt anything of the like for his youngest brother.

"Why would I not? It is my right to be praised and those that don't are foolish and blind to not recognize excellence." He chokes slightly at the end, a very undignified expression despite all the self-tugging his words were doing for himself.

[mischievous-misdirection]

One man couldn’t really be this insufferable? How many backhanded remarks was that now? Ichiji could have very easily kept his mouth shut and enjoyed what was being done to him, he even seemed to be enjoying it in spite of flapping lips. Yorin had hoped he’d be over taken by pleasure and they could relax into a silence only broken by labored breathing or approving moans, instead they got whatever the hell this bedroom talk was. A secret lab under Germa that collected the prince’s semen shared so casually and yet so weird and off putting. Did the other brothers know about this farm? Yonji was not being milked or he was an endless void, both were … concerning? 

The most offensive part was that (somehow) Ichiji believed this coming together was his own doing. The crowned prince was so magnetic and so irresistible Yorin was a slave to his musk that she fell to her knees to pleasure him. 

It was gag worthy 

Ichiji was repellent in a different but equally annoying way to Niji. All of these thoughts somehow haven’t made themselves fully known on their face, hands still moving lush breasts back and forth, eyes flicking from the oozing crown to the prince’s face. “Is that so?” Tongue dances across full lips, head leaning to one side to rest on Ichiji’s left hand. “What if I want to stop?” Hands begin to slow from the eager pace, growing more idle as they speak. “I could do whatever I wanted to you?”  Lips turn  further into his hand and press a warm kiss on the last knuckle of his thumb, teeth chasing away the heat. “Keep you here for as long as I want or worse—” She smiles, leaning forward as if to stand. “I could leave you wanting,” hands stop but breast remain pushed snuggly on either side of his cock. “This isn’t very proper or becoming of a lady.” Face twists up in feigned thought. “And you’ve made such a mess of me already.” Arms loosened their tension enough for breast to sag aside and expose the sticky wet tunnel his cock sat in, throbbing and proud. “ That wouldn’t be very fair, now would it?”

[pxison]

"Suffering in silence would be better than enduring nonsensical drivel." He hisses lowly back, tempted to shove an elbow out but that didn't fit the decorum of tonight's event and so he stops himself. He does however peruse the artworks being brought on stage after snatching his hand back from Yorin.

"You read me so well. Conquest would be fitting, no? I would not want to see rainbows and puppies line our halls as that is far from our mode of operation. We don't bring peace, we end conflicts violently and swiftly."

He would not waste beri on worthless pieces that did not fit his ideal vision of Germa, one that aligned with Judges own hopes and dreams. After the first painting passes by with little incident, the next one perks his interest more. It had a pleasing array of reds and while it didn't depict a particular scene, he felt it would at least be something that'd hang up nicely in his office. It is to this that he bids for earnestly until no one else in the crowd could compete with him.

"Do not say anything." He did not want to hear any teasing and as he drank more, the thought of doing anything but mimicking a pillar rubbed him wrong. He could do without the embarrassment of stepping on feet or revealing how stiff he was on the dancefloor to so many potential onlookers. He lets more pieces go before he asks after Yorin's own interests.

"What about you? Do you not want to purchase something you could keep as your own or even send home?" Germa's vast treasury was accessible to Yorin too if need be. He wasn't outright against them buying any personal amenities.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Following his order just this once Yorin simply smiles around where lips meet glass. They didn't venture into his office often but the color would warm the gloom just a touch.

"I'm not much for art these days." A shrug. Nothing she would care for would fit the Germa aesthetics and there was only so much life she could breathe into her shared bedroom. "Papa is very picky about art. Says each piece is filled with an artist's intent in various forms." Empty hand lifts and swings back and forth. "One thing can mean another and that energy can add or subtract from the house." Knows Ichiji doesn't care or worse thinks it's nonsense but he was a captive audience. "I never see what he sees." They smile, soft and genuine for once, eyes lingering on the bejeweled ring decorating their finger. 

Glass shatters from above, rich spectator's eyes draw up to the twinkling glass dome now shattered before ropes and men descend two at a time. Dirty boots clatter against the floor, pirates with bags circling tables with their arms outstretched, incentive in the form of a cocked pistol. Sobbing wives and mistresses fumble and unbuckles their necklaces and bracelets, priceless rings tossed into a canvas bag before the man moves on. 

Yorin glances to Ichiji then to the masked figure on stage; one of the intruders overseeing the whole affair. Before she can speak, a shabby looking pirate rushes over, bag open expectantly.  Yorin grimaces and jerks their head away, hand covering the ring on her hand. “Absolutely not.” It had been picked from Germa’s vast vault, treasures they had commissioned instead of those that served as payment or were plundered. Whether it belonged to the late queen or Reiju, Yorin refused to lose it here.

“Wasn’t askin’ darlin’” Pistol wielding hand rears back and drives forward.

[pxison]

Just as easily, Ichiji turns and buries himself back into the mountain of papers that would hardly be deferred to any of the other two idiots. However, much as he wanted to clear his mind and focus, what Yorin still lingers on the edges nipping at his brain in increasingly irritated ways.

So, the little cell clump had developed enough to be a boy? That left a bad taste in his mouth seeing as his situation as picture perfect as it was supposed to look on the outside was not as fortunate and Yorin was just going to throw it all away.

Ichiji was warring with himself by the time days later he'd let his thoughts on the matter eat away at him enough to confront Yorin before they went off on whatever schedule they abided to that day. He was ready to be irritable if he was already too late.

"So, you went and discarded a potential male heir? I don't care if I'm being hypocritical now but bearing a son will be the only way to continue this family's legacy and you threw that all away." A girl mattered not to him as is the way he was raised to think. Men throughout Germa's history had held the power and authority and that had never changed and will never be changed.

[mischievous-misdirection]

Yorin was cozying up in the library today; she was still getting through Germa's incredibly dull history having to alternate between something enjoyable and torturous. 

Today it was enjoyable, but without ceremony or greeting Ichiji barges in. Yorin blinks at the suddenly talkative prince, full lips pulling into a disgusted line. He clearly had to be thinking about this from the moment they left, thought himself up into a flurry.

"Good morning Ichiji." Gold lacquered fingers capture a dangling bookmark to slide into place before they close the book. "Have you forgotten I'm not your wife?" A smile, sweet and thorny. "My blood isn't blue enough for that. Surely it isn't blue enough to give you an heir either." She leans back in her little nook, legs bent under her thighs and arms spread across the back of the couch, the air of quiet confidence and the player with a winning hand. Yonji had sired all boys, twins even.

"You have a wife, a lovely little thing." A lie. They both know she's a handful, young and not as submissive as Ichiji would have liked but more submissive than Yorin. "Try again, your father didn't get a boy the first time either."