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Chapter - 170 Hello, Shanks. (R-18)
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 23:16:29 +0000 UTCThe next days pulsed with frenzy.
Cipher Pol agents filled the villa’s courtyards, armored and silent, their minds already rewritten by Stussy and Shakky. Elite squads marched in formation, their loyalty absolute.
Queens and princesses, already his slaves, were chosen to accompany him — their bodies pampered, perfumed, dressed in silks that clung to their curves.
The rest wept jealously, begging to be taken, but Lakeman smirked and left them behind as ornaments for his villa in Mariejois.
His closest women — Robin, Lily, Scarlet, Stella, Sofia, Stussy, Shakky, Mirana, Viola, Otohime, Titi — all prepared themselves. They whispered excitedly, jealous of one another, but united in devotion.
Lily oversaw the maids as they packed treasures, relics, and “toys” — ropes, chains, silken cuffs, golden plugs — tools for endless indulgence on the voyage.
Robin catalogued maps, scrolls, and books looted during his absence.
Scarlet and Stella danced in the gardens, practicing their movements to entertain him aboard.
Sofia and Titi arranged for rare wines and delicacies to be loaded.
Every preparation centered around him.
At the docks of Mariejois floated his ship — the golden cruise, now more magnificent than ever.
Vegapunk’s genius and Birka’s ancient sky technology had fused into a masterpiece. Its hull gleamed with skystone plating, sails woven from cloudsteel, engines humming with power that let it glide across sea and sky alike.
Inside, entire palaces had been built — throne halls, pleasure chambers, libraries, dungeons, baths, gardens. It was not a ship, but a floating kingdom of indulgence.
Lakeman boarded slowly, his crimson eyes scanning the horizon. His women followed, their bodies shimmering with silks, their eyes burning with desire.
The CP agents lined the docks, kneeling.
The Five Elders watched from a distance, bowed and silent.
Even Imu, deep in the flower fields, smiled faintly, sensing his departure.
That night, the cruise did not sleep.
The halls shook with moans. Lakeman took his women one by one, then in pairs, then in groups — his cock filling every hole, his seed overflowing every womb.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Glkkk! Slrrrp! Schhhllpp!
Ahhhhhhhnnnnnn!
Robin rode him on the library’s desk, moaning as scrolls toppled.
Lily begged on her knees, drinking his seed like wine.
Scarlet and Stella scissored on silken cushions, screaming his name as he took them both.
Sofia and Titi pressed their breasts together, letting him spray his cum across their chests.
Otohime moaned as he bent her over a fountain, her petite form trembling as water splashed.
Viola squirted across the throne chamber as he fucked her against the golden railing.
Stussy and Shakky worshipped his cock together, gagging and drooling as he thrust down their throats.
Mirana begged for more punishment, screaming, “Break me, Master!” as he filled her ass until she fainted.
By dawn, every woman lay ruined — their bodies trembling, dripping seed, their minds broken deeper into worship.
And Lakeman stood tall at the prow of his golden cruise, watching the horizon burn.
As the sun rose, the sails unfurled. The golden cruise lifted, engines humming, gliding smoothly into the air before descending toward the Red Line’s seas.
The golden cruise glided smoothly into the Calm Belt, its skystone hull shimmering under the sun. Unlike ordinary vessels, it did not fear the windless seas.
Its engines hummed with Vegapunk’s brilliance, allowing it to soar across the water like a living palace.
But the Calm Belt was not silent.
From the depths rose titanic shadows — Sea Kings, their eyes glowing, their scales shimmering like mountains of living flesh.
A roar split the air, shaking the ocean. A serpent’s head lunged from below, its fangs longer than masts.
Lakeman smirked, standing calmly at the prow. His crimson eyes flashed, his aura bursting outward like a storm.
Vhhmmmmmmm!
The Sea King froze mid-attack. Its eyes rolled back. In a single motion, Lakeman’s hand rose — and with a crack of space itself, its life was stolen.
The beast collapsed lifeless into the waves.
“Haul it up,” he commanded.
Cipher Pol agents moved like shadows, their loyalty absolute.
Hooks, ropes, and sky-cranes dragged the carcass aboard. Its flesh became a feast, roasted and spiced in the kitchens, its blood drained into barrels, its bones stripped for trophies.
By nightfall, the halls of the golden cruise echoed with laughter and moans, his women feasting on Sea King flesh while Lakeman feasted on them.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“Ahhhhhhhnnnn! Masterrrrr!”
On the third day, the golden cruise descended near a familiar island: Amazon Lily.
The Kuja warriors raised their bows instinctively, but when the ship’s shadow fell across their jungle, their eyes widened.
On the beaches stood Boa Hancock, Empress of the Kuja. Her red qipao clung to her curves, her golden serpent earrings glinting. Her long black hair tumbled past her waist as her dark eyes softened at the sight of him.
She dropped her bow. Her lips parted.
“Master Lakeman…”
She fell to her knees in the sand, heedless of her title, heedless of her people. Behind her, her sisters, Boa Sandersonia and Boa Marigold, lowered their weapons as well, bowing their heads.
What followed was nothing less than an orgy of god and empress.
Hancock screamed his name in her palace chambers, her long legs wrapped around his waist as he slammed into her.
Slap! Slap!
Splrrrt!
“Ahhhhhhh! Master!”
Sandersonia and Marigold moaned as they licked the cum dripping from her folds, their tongues trembling with worship.
Kuja warriors knelt in circles, fingering themselves as they watched their empress taken apart, some begging to be used next, others moaning just from the sight.
In the courtyards, he bent Hancock over the marble railings, fucking her as her warriors chanted his name.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
“Ahhhhnnnn! Break me more, Master!”
At night, he lay sprawled in the empress’s bed, his cock buried in Hancock’s pussy while Kuja warriors licked his chest, his thighs, his balls.
The room shook with moans, squirts, and slaps of flesh.
By dawn of the second day, Hancock’s palace was drenched.
Dozens of warriors lay collapsed, trembling, their bodies sticky with his seed. Hancock herself clung to his chest, her beauty glowing even brighter through exhaustion, whispering faintly:
“…Take me with you, Master. Don’t leave me again…”
Lakeman smirked, kissing her forehead. “You’ll remain here. Grow stronger. Let the seas tremble at your name. When I call, you’ll kneel at my feet again.”
Hancock moaned at his words, both disappointed and thrilled. “Yes, Master Lakeman…”
On the morning of the third day, the golden cruise rose once more, leaving Amazon Lily behind.
From the beaches, the Kuja warriors knelt, their empress at their head, watching their god ascend into the skies.
Lakeman stood at the prow, his crimson eyes locked on the horizon. East Blue awaited. Windmill Village awaited. Shanks awaited.
And the Nika brat, still playing at dreams, slumbered there too.
Lakeman smirked devilishly.
“The seas are ripe again.”
The tavern of Windmill Village echoed with laughter.
Red-haired Shanks sat at the center table, his captain’s coat tossed aside, a tankard of ale in his hand. His scarred face was lit by the firelight, his missing arm long forgotten, his smile wide as he clinked glasses with his crew.
“Another round!” he bellowed, his laughter booming.
His crew roared in agreement — Benn Beckman, calm as ever, puffing on his cigarette; Yasopp boasting loudly about his son’s future marksmanship; Lucky Roux with a leg of meat in one hand and a barrel of wine in the other.
Villagers crowded the tavern, their nervousness eased by Shanks’s charm. They toasted with the pirates, forgetting for a moment the weight of the seas.
Children laughed outside. Luffy, a boy with straw hat dreams, chased his friends around the docks, his belly full of meat and his heart full of wild promises.
None of them knew what shadow was creeping toward them.
High above the seas, far from the drunken laughter, the golden cruise glided silently across the East Blue skies. Its sails glistened with woven cloudsteel, its engines humming with godlike power.
Inside, the halls pulsed with sex.
Stussy moaned on his lap, her breasts bouncing as Lakeman pounded into her pussy.
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Her voice broke into cries of worship.
“Ahhhhhhhnnnn! Masterrrrr!”
Shakky knelt beside them, licking his balls as his cock slammed deeper into Stussy. Robin sat across the cushions, moaning softly as Lily licked between her thighs.
Mirana, sprawled across cushions with her red curls a tangled mess, licked her lips. “And my stupid brother will finally see what a god looks like.”
Lakeman sat back, crimson eyes glowing as he fucked Stussy raw, his voice calm even as her screams filled the chamber.
“So… Shanks plays at being a hero in some tavern. Drinks with peasants. Laughs with children. All while the world crowns him Emperor.”
He smirked, groaning as he spilled another load inside Stussy’s womb.
Splrrrt! Splrrrt!
She wailed, collapsing against his chest.
Night fell over Windmill Village. The tavern emptied, its floors sticky with spilled ale, its patrons stumbling home with laughter.
Shanks staggered to the shore with his men, the stars overhead glimmering faintly in the East Blue sky.
He looked out to the horizon, his single arm resting on his knee, his eyes distant for a moment.
“…Strange,” he muttered. “Feels like something’s coming.”
But then Benn clapped his shoulder, and he laughed again, shrugging it off.
Windmill Village. Next Morning
The village woke lazily, the smell of roasted fish and fresh bread drifting from chimneys. Children ran through the dirt streets, merchants set out their wares, and fishermen repaired nets on the docks.
At the tavern, Red-Haired Shanks sat outside with his crew, nursing a hangover.
Yasopp laughed at his own stories, Lucky Roux gnawed meat with both hands, Benn Beckman puffed on his cigarette as calmly as ever.
Shanks leaned back, his straw-hatted friend Luffy tugging at his sleeve.
“Shanks! Shanks! Fight me!” the boy cried, bouncing with energy.
The red-haired captain only laughed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Not today, brat. The world’s too peaceful here.”
Peaceful… for the last time.
A villager pointed upward suddenly, his eyes wide. “Wh-what is that?”
At first it was only a shimmer — like sunlight bending across the horizon. Then it grew, vast and golden, blotting out the morning sky.
A ship.
No… a palace.
The golden cruise descended from the heavens, its skystone hull gleaming like a second sun, its sails woven with luminous cloudsteel, its banners unfurling with serpentine symbols. The engines hummed, vibrating the very air.
Gasps erupted across the village.
“Impossible…”
“It’s floating!”
“What kind of monster…?”
The tavern fell silent. Shanks rose slowly, his single arm hanging at his side, his jaw tightening.
Before the golden ship even touched the sea, the air changed.
Vhhmmmmmm—
The villagers collapsed to their knees, clutching their chests. Children whimpered, too weak to move. The ground itself trembled as though bowing.
Shanks’s crew stiffened, their instincts screaming. Yasopp’s grin faltered. Lucky Roux dropped his meat. Benn Beckman’s cigarette shook in his fingers.
And Shanks himself… felt it. A crushing, suffocating force that made even his Emperor’s aura seem like a candle in a storm.
His knees buckled for a moment before he steadied himself, sweat rolling down his temple.
“…No… it can’t be…” he muttered, his scar aching.
The golden cruise descended lower, its decks lined with kneeling Cipher Pol agents in black suits. At the prow stood Lakeman, tall, black-haired, crimson-eyed — his aura blazing like a storm chained to flesh.
And beside him, in silken chains of her own devotion, knelt Mirana Figarland — Shanks’s sister. Her red curls clung to her flushed face, her lips curved in a sinful smirk.
“Brother,” she called sweetly, her voice echoing across the village. “Look at your sister now… Look at who I belong to.”
The villagers gasped, confused. The pirates froze.
And Shanks’s eyes widened, blood draining from his face as he recognized her voice.
“…Mirana…”
Lakeman’s smirk widened. His crimson gaze swept across the tavern, the villagers, Shanks’s crew, and finally the red-haired Emperor himself.
He raised a hand in casual greeting, as if mocking.
“Hello, Shanks.”
The villagers felt their knees buckle further. Luffy clutched Shanks’s leg, wide-eyed. The crew tensed, their hands drifting toward weapons they knew were useless.
Shanks’s teeth clenched. For the first time in years, fear stirred in his chest.
And above them all, the golden cruise loomed like the palace of a god — and Lakeman’s descent had only just begun.
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Comments
Romeo Stone
What happened to chapter 169
