#hammocks are hard to draw

[lattedusks-mochadawns]

Chris n’ Jimmy Content

These two are cuties and I wanna see them interact more.

LOOK AT THESE CUTIES

+ Sketch

[alackofghosts]

trying to cheat the system, but featureless blob people don't quite hit the same :')

because i was asked this last time i did smth like this: it's perfectly fine to use these as refs, go wild

[spearxwind]

-holts up from realization- talas would not be able to stand up straight inside of connons ship because the interior is most definitely not eight ft tall

[pinnithin]

He put his glasses back on and turned a sad smile on Jutta. "Mourners don't care what the gods' reasons are. Their loved ones are gone. Forever. And nothing can be said or done to bring them back."

Jutta turns away from the ceiling to fix Reynin with a wide-eyed look, seeming shocked by his words. For a moment, they just stare; then the dam breaks. Their face crumples - slowly at first, then all at once - and they bury their head in their hands as the first of many agonized wails tears out of them.

Scene from my dnd campaign. Sometimes the grief hits you years later.

[loaksbitch]

now girlies imagine neteyam hold you close while rutting deep into you like a rabbit in heat yes?

warnings – neteyam himself is a warning y’all but for serious. size kink, trying to adjust his fat cock, p in v, top neteyam, kinda quickie?? but not really, cumming inside you, overstimulation, back arching smut (i’m joking.. or not 🙀) ofc neteyam babe is aged up to 19 to rearrange your guts guys

“taking me good” — neteyam sully (⨳)

things takes place fast as you’re placed on the mat of neteyam’s hammock before gasping when your mate starts to leave open kisses down your barely covered chest.

“neteyam, you know i’ve to aid th–“ he was quick to cut you off with coming up to your face level and placing a sharp kiss at your lips. “what about me?” he suddenly asks making you raise a brow with a confusion

“don’t i need an aid,” he looks down to his growing bulge for you to follow his eyes and swallow hard. “for this.” he dry humps you causing you to let a soft sigh out. “‘teyam” you call out his name, his favorite nickname. “yes princess?”

you knew kiri would cuss you out for not coming to help her patch the wounded people up but then again you really need this orgasm that’s starting to make you go feral. “we’ve only few minutes,” you use your elbows as a support to look at your mate who’s between your legs looking like a lost puppy

“few minutes, that’s all i need.” neteyam grins before removing both of your loincloth. you watch neteyam bend down to kiss your thighs probably assuming to eat you out before jackhammering you and quickly stop him. “i’m already ready, ‘teyeam” you tell him

“but princess, ion wanna hurt you” he tells you making you softly smile while his yellowish golden eyes shine at you. “you won’t, just please hurry up and fuck me”

that was the only word you needed to say. neteyam never fails to make you giggle with his eagerness while struggling to rub himself one or two thrust to make him hard enough to slip inside you quick

both of you moan at the feeling of him stretching you out. you close you eyes shut as you try to adjust the size of his blue cock inside you. “too big” you dare to whine making him chuckle

“i told you, you needed to be stretched” he licks his lips before caging you with each of his arms by the side of your head.

“‘teyeam” you softly moan not failing to make his chest tighten, god he’s so in love. “i’m here baby, right here” he brings your small hand to his chest as he slowly bottoms out and waits for your knitted brows and eyes to relax

you keep calling his name as he answers you with a grunt and sighs of pleasure. “it’s okay, you’re okay” he tells you as you give him a light tap to start moving his hips. “neteyam…” you cry out when the man draws almost fully out then painfully pushes back in

“oh dear mother!” you scream in pleasure, neteyam bites onto his lips hard as he keeps edging you to the cliff of your orgasm. “feels so good?” he asks not ashamed to growl when he feels you tightening

“feels so good, so fucking good” you whine again and again, tears breaming in your eyes.

neteyam watches you struggle trying to grip onto something strong that will at least save you from dying out of pleasure. “hold on to me, i’ve got you” he would say sneaking his arms by your waist and wrapping himself around you before pulling you up to sit on his firm thigh

“ngh..!” you would whimper when strong hands grip your hips helping you to move. “princess,” now neteyam wasn’t the type to actually moan loud but it was getting to much as you’re heat sucks him in. “i’m so deep, aren’t i?” your mate nips to your neck, marking you as his

you’d only nod for him to sneak his hands between you and press onto your bud lightly. “use your words, pretty girl” he would say making your orgasm one step closer. “yes, yes so deep” you nod moving your hips eager on chasing to see stars as you cum.

“slow down baby,” neteyam would chuckle. “we’ve got plenty of time.” — “neteyam!” you couldn’t even warn him you’re cumming as you gush all over him. “fuck, fuck, fuck!” he would growls fucking your juices back to you. the squelching sound being too much for his ear

neteyam feels his inside twist and balls tighten before he sinks you down to his girth. “gonna paint your walls nice and pretty” kisses are left on your cheeks, lips, neck and chest. “love you so much, pretty girl”

you feel his thick and warm cum oozes into your wall making you arch your back and press your swollen breast to his chest. “fuuuuck” neteyam cusses, forehead pressing to yours. “lookin’ so pretty when i stuff you with my load.” you shy away your gaze at his words

“no look at me when i tell you how you’re everything to me” he would hold your chin with his fingers and place a long kiss on your forehead. “i love you princess, i love you so much.”

“i love you more” you suddenly gasp when he thrusts upward. “no, never. that’s impossible thing to love me more” he tucks your braids behind your ear.

crying cause it’s not edited and i barely got enough sleep today :’( i love each and everyone of you. — likes + reblogs are appreciated and not pressured! mwah!!

[luna0713hunter]

I'd die for you

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : when Zoro is injured by Hawk Eyes,you cant help but to worry about him.

Warnings : none really, basically hurt/comfort,mentions of injuries and fear of losing the person you love aka Zoro, bickering couple

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

"Wow," Sanji breaths, "Just,wow..."

You let out a whine and hide your face in your hands.

"Sanjiiii," you take hold of the cook's sleeve and shake him as hard as you can (which isnt much), "what should i do?! there's no way Zoro would actually like this!!!"

"I dont know," the blonde takes a spoonful of the soup you've made,which was oddly....black, "that blockhead should be thrilled that you put so much effort in making this for him!!"

You sniff,watching as Sanji swallows and school his expression,but not before his face paling slightly, "it just...has a little too much salt. And pepper...and.." when his eyes land on your defeated expression,Sanji smiles brightly again but it seems a little forced "and its absolutely delicious!!!i cant see how he cant possibly love this!"

"you're just saying that to make me feel better. You dont have to pretend,Sanji."

The cook gives you a charming smile and starts cleaning the kitchen, "if a man can't appreciate his woman cooking for him,then he doesn't deserve to taste it. So,y/n," he turns around from washing the dishes and smiles warmly at you, "don't be nervous. And remember you can always learn from your mistakes."

You smile back,and take hold of the bowl and walk our of the kitchen;a small skip to your steps.

"I'm going!!"

"Good luck with him!"

You giggle as you try to rush to where Zoro is; resting in his bedroom after you specifically asked him to rest.

It hasn't been long since he got injured by Hawk Eyes, and as much as he didnt want to admit those scars needed time to fully heal. And with him running around and fighting everyone in sight,it wasnt easy to actually make him rest. So after a small argument with him and some help from Sanji,you managed to cook something for him. The cook had mentioned that the herbs in the soup would heal him faster,but judging from how dark the food looked like,you may or may have not overcooked it. Only a little.

As you reach his room, you take a steady breath to calm yourself before knocking gently on the door.

"If its about your damn cooking or personal space again,i couldn't care less Sanji."

"Zoro,its me."

When the other side goes silent,you cant help but to roll your eyes playfully and grin. Sanji and Zoro couldn't get along for the life them and it never ceases to amuse you.

"...come in."

You take another breath as you finally open the door.

Zoro is,to your delight, actually resting on his hammock. His arms are folded behind his head as he stares at you when you walk through the door. The room is mostly dark,since he has a habit of drawing the curtains whenever Sanji is not around to nag at him. Your eyes momentarily traces the shape of the bandages under his shirt,before clearing your throat and moving to his side.

"i hope you're hungry. Sanji helped me cook this for you."

Zoro eyes the bowl in your hands,but doesn't move from where he's laying

"its not poisoned,is it?"

"i was cooking,what do you think?"

Zoro purse his lips and doesn't reply. You visibly gape at him and stump your foot angrily

"I'm not that bad at cooking!!"

"i didnt even say anything."

"your face says all i need to know!!" You huff and turn around, "maybe i should just give this to Luffy! I'm sure he would appreciate it,unlike someone."

You dont even have time to take another step before there are arms around your waist,not hard that you spill the soup,but enough to stop you from leaving.

"...give it here."

You dont turn around,but your lips twitch; Zoro could never say no to you.

"And why would i?"

"...cause I'm hungry and it smells...really good."

And when you finally turn around,you lift an eyebrow unamused.

"was that pause really necessary?"

"just give me the damn bowl."

You try really hard to hide your teasing grin,but judging from the scowl Zoro's wearing, you're not very successful at it.

You wait impatiently as Zoro blows the soup (which is totally unnecessary since its already lukewarm) and swallows a spoonful. You fidget with your fingers, tilting your head to side and looking at the man in front of you nervously.

"so?how is it?"

Zoro takes a moment before looking up at you.

"it's the best soup I've ever had."

There's a moment of silence where you just stare at the man in front you. He looks serious;no sign of his teasing grin or eye rolls. And when he sees you not responding,he just goes back to eating your black, burned soup.

Your eyes water and you try to muffle your sob.

At the sound, Zoro's head immediately snaps up,his eyes widening when they land on your crumbled form. He jumps to his feet and takes hold of your shoulders,caresses your cheek and wipes the tears away so gently that it has you crying harder.

"hey,hey. why are you crying?"

You shake your head and hide your face in his chest.

"i almost lost you Zoro..."

"but I'm-"

"you're not fine!!" You sob,and raise your face so you can watch his own twist into a frown as he watches your tears increase, "you almost died!! If it weren't for Zeff's help,you would've bled to death!i cant get the image of that sword slashing your chest out of my head!heck,i cant sleep without thinking of you dying in front of me Zoro!"

When you finally finish your little rant,your face is flushed and your breathing is uneven. Your mind wonders off to that cursed moment again,when a hand on your cheek pulls you back to your senses.

"breath," Zoro murmurs, "breath,babe. Its alright. Im fine;more than fine."

He rests his forehead against yours and puts your hand on his chest. Where you could feel his heart beating.

Alive and safe

"see?" He presses his lips to your heated skin and his hold on you tightens, "and, I'm getting so much better already with your magical soup."

At that,you let out a wet giggle and look up at him, sniffing, "really?"

"really."

And when he slowly steps back until he's laying on his hammock again,with your ear pressed against his beating heart,and the empty bowl of the soup on the floor;you feel your eyes slowly flutter shut.

"Sleep,love. I'll be right here when you wake up."

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; you know fucking JJ is against the pogue code, but, can you resist him?

warnings; SMUT, drug use, thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, praising, public sex (kinda)

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

You knew the rule: no pogue on pogue macking, however, sticking to it was hard when you felt so attracted to your best friend, JJ Maybank.

You had knew him since both of you were just a couple of kids, given that you had grown up together in The Cut, where you were neighbours. And you had considered him your best friend since then, or at least it was that way until puberty hit him like a truck.

Although you didn't know, he felt the same way about you. At first, he loved you like the sister he never had, but when you started growing up boobs, he couldn't help but see you differently. Soon, all of his wet dreams were about you and he had to force himself to contain his inappropriate thoughts; he didn't want to ruin your friendship.

Still, his attempts to suppress his feelings for you not always worked; sometimes he got all touchy and flirty, unable to keep his hands to himself when you were around. Not that you complained, but that attitude of his just made you hornier for him, and you were worried that someday you might do something stupid that could break apart your relationship.

One night, after you had spent the evening with the pogues drinking beer around a little bonfire, JJ and you lay down in the hammock that hanged from the big tree outside the chateau to smoke a joint together. Smoking with him had become like a tradition between the both of you every Friday night; you invited the others to join everytime, of course, but they always preferred doing whatever else.

You didn't realise back then, but they did it in purpose because they knew about how you felt for each other.

You stretched out next to JJ, getting comfy, when your friends said their goodbyes and moved towards the front porch, where they seated on the couch to talk a little before bed.

Your best friend, meanwhile, lit the blunt using the lighter he always kept in his pocket and took the first hit. You curled up against him, laying your head in his shoulder, and watched as he exhaled the smoke. The blonde put his arm around you and the smell from the weed filled your nostrils when he turned to look at you with a smile that took your breath away; he was gorgeous.

He took a couple more hits before he passed you the joint and you found yourself repeating his actions; soon, his eyes turned red and his pupils widened. You couldn't see your own, but you guessed you looked just the same.

You were usually the most loving of the two, always showing him affection through hugs and kisses, but when you were high the tables turned; in those moments he became all handsy. Although he had never exceeded your boundaries, that night things got out of hand.

When you both were totally stoned, the blonde started caressing your back underneath your hoodie —his hoodie actually—, giving you goosebumps, and when you were holding the blunt, leaving his other hand free, he stroked your naked thigh to almost touch your butt, testing your limits; yet, you did not objected at any time.

He was teasing you; but you knew how to play his game, too.

You sat up in the hammock and leaned on your elbow, drawing his attention from your body to your face. You took a long hit before taking his jaw in your hand carefully to push his lips open, getting closer to him, if it was even possible. You let the smoke out of your lungs and he inhaled it with a flirty smile in his face, then he exhaled it until it got lost in the air between you.

After that, you thought he would pull away, however, he brushed his lips against yours, sending shivers through your body. His eyes fluttered over your face, expecting a negative reaction on your part, when he didn't find it, he repeated the action; that time he titled his head a little to the side so there would be more contact between your parted lips; bumping noses.

It wasn't a real kiss, it was the slightest touch, but it sent shivers through your body and you could feel your panties getting wet. You wanted to hate yourself for letting JJ have that effect on you, but you were so turned on that you couldn't care less.

"JJ, you're playing with fire," you murmured, turning your face to the side in an attempt to recover your good sense.

The blonde's playful hand rubbed the outline of your ass cheek for a few seconds and then made its way down again, grabbing your knee so he could spread your legs and position himself between them.

He buried his face in your neck, where he placed a few wet kisses before taking your earlobe between his teeth. You tangled your fingers in his hair locks, sighing, and your eyes shuttered unconsciously.

"Then burn me," he whispered in your ear while he pushed his leg up between yours, making your pulse race.

Your body took control of the situation instantly and, without giving it a second thought, you started riding his thigh. JJ smiled, lifting your hoodie to expose your butt, only covered by your tiny bikini bottom. He finally grabbed it in his hand so he could bring you closer to his body, pressing into your pussy with his knee. The action made you moan and you covered your mouth to silence it; you didn't want the others hearing you, but being quiet was becoming more and more difficult with each touch.

"You like this, princess?" he asked with raspy voice as his hands crawled under your clothes to untie your bikini top. "Wish you could see how pretty you look rubbing against me."

You nodded while you whimpered, desperate to get your release, and JJ took of your top, throwing it at your feet, to grab your nipples with his fingers; he pinched and rubbed them until the pleasure became painful.

"J, please," you pleaded between moans, moving your hips faster against him when you felt you were about to cum.

"Please what, princess?" he questioned, though he knew thanks to your body language that you were on the brink of an orgasm.

"I'm going to fucking cum," you told him, moaning in his pinky lips as you struggle between kissing him or not.

However, JJ didn't give you the chance to do it, since he got away from you, denying your orgasm. You complained instantly, but the blonde covered your mouth so you couldn't say anything about it.

"Shh, it's me who decide when you get to cum, understood?" he said at the same time that he played with the strings from your bikini bottom with his other hand.

You nodded in response, given that you couldn't talk, and JJ let you go with a pleased smile.

"That's my good girl," he praised you as he got rid of your bottoms.

He repositioned himself between your legs, spreading them wider to take a look at your naked pussy, biting his lip at the sight. Without looking away, he licked his thumb and then slid it between your folds to rub your clit in slow circles. You started making faint, muffled sighs due to the craved touch and wrapped your leg around his hips. You brought him closer until your face was inches from his and his lustful eyes fixated on yours.

Your erratic breathing contrasted with his calmed one, his nose bumped against your cheek again and that time you couldn't resist the impulse to kiss him. Your tongues met, shyly at first, but JJ took control of the kiss right away, making it more demanding, as if he was marking you as his.

Your heart hammered in your chest like crazy while your shaky hands sneaked under his t-shirt to touch the soft skin of his abs lightly. Finally, your kiss broke when you felt JJ circling your entrance with two fingers, making you moan in his mouth.

"I want you so bad, J," you panted.

You closed your eyes as his fingers slided in, feeling his wet kisses go from your cheek to your neck.

"We can't do it here, they'd see us," he murmured between kisses, slowly thrusting his fingers into you, "but I promise I'll make you feel good, princess."

His words and fingers made you moan again and you kissed him in an attempt to keep quiet, feeling a pleasant tingling at your belly when he began fingering you faster. His cold rings hit your sensitive warm flesh with each thrust, giving you goosebumps.

JJ was as good with his fingers as you had imagined, even better; he knew how deep he had to push and how to curl them to reach that spot that made you weak on your knees.

"You're doing so good, baby," JJ said as he started rubbing your clit again. "You can cum when you're ready."

It was all it took for you to let go. You came harder than you have ever come in your whole life, shaking in his arms as you shouted his name. He had to kiss you to shut you up, sliding his tongue in your mouth, while he caressed your face. When you came down from it, he pulled away and kissed your forehead, hugging you, and you stayed like that for a few minutes.

"J, we broke the rule."

"We should've broken it sooner." You smiled.

[thefandomdirtymind]

The small favor

18 +

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji

Prequel : The Haircut

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon 

A/N IMPORTANT: My first Smut fic in a very long time and damn I'm rusty. But, I hope you will still like it and I swear to improve myself with descriptive action scene.

Warning : Smut, mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, oral ( Fem receiving) , praising, vanilla sex, fluff

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.  

If you enjoy my story please let me know.

---

The moon, bright and full, was high in his sky. The supper was over for a long time ago now and the crew of the Merry going was all asleep, dreaming of battle, new territory to draw, a table full of food, adventure or of being reunited with an old friend.

But, you couldn’t sleep. The sound of the wave crashing against the boat, the light of the moon piercing through your window, the loud snoring duel between Zoro and Luffy and finally your brain who just couldn’t stop to think.

Turning on your other side for the fifth time, you let out a loud sigh. It was the third night in a row you couldn’t sleep. You had tried various techniques, from a marvelous tea prepared by Sanji, to sleeping outside. But neither the tea, things that seem to shock the best chef of the east blue, nor the traditional method had succeeded.

Getting down from your hammock, resolute to finally sleep, you exited without a sound your room. Making your way to a particular door, you slowly knock, guilt twisting your gust.

It didn’t take long for Sanji to open the door, even if you could tell by the state of his hair and simple black boxer he was wearing that he, on the contrary of you, was deeply in dreamland just a few minutes ago. 

“ Y/N, everything is okay darling ? “ He asked, a yawn on his lips. 

“ I can’t sleep again “ You confessed, your eyes admiring the view of his half naked body.  

“ Oh then we will try another tea, I wrote a recipe here, I had some idea of why the one before didn’t work but…“  The blond reply, returning in the room, letting the door open behind him. 

“ No Sanji, I need another small favor in fact “ You reply, following him in the room, closing the door behind you. 

 “ Everything you need mon coeur” The man replied, now clearly curious.

Traveling the small space between you, your gaze never leaving his, you slowly put your hand on his chest, lifting them slowly, brushing his skin with your fingertip until finally you join them behind his neck.

“ Sanji…please fuck me “ You softly ask. 

In an instant, you felt the hard wall press behind your back and his strong hands on your hips pinning you in place, his lips lingering only few minimeter of yours. 

“ I thought you would never ask” He groaned, taking possession of your lips.

The kisses of Sanji’s were exactly like him, passionate but gentle. Every move of his lips over yours, every exchange of breath or flip of his tongues against yours make you shiver or moan of pleasure. When his hands, like in a ballet in harmonie with his mouth, were exploring the soft skin of your breast under your still clothes body. 

Leaving your face to pepper kiss the valley between your neck and your shoulder. You felt one of his hands slide slowly between your legs, his thumb already rubbing in slow circles your clit. 

“ You're already so wet” He smiled, kissing the column of your throat  “ Did you start without me ? “ 

“I tried to masturbate, it didn't work out” You confessed, as you caressed the surface of his back, leaving yourself some kisses on his broad shoulders, your eyes heavy with lust. 

“ Then I will have to try, don’t you think, Prunelle de mes yeux *. Maybe I wasn’t enough in your mind"  (* Apple of my eye) 

Putting down your pants alongside your panties. He seductively left a last kiss on your lips before kneeling before you, his thumb traveling lazily between the lips of your pussy before teasing your clit.

Licking you first with long strokes with the flat of his tongue, moaning when your fingers buried himself on his golden hair. He then proceeds to alterne with the tip of his tongue creating a devilish prequel to the main course.  

After a while his tongue seems everywhere, driving you crazy, eating you out like if you were the best meal of his life. Sanji took his time to suck your clit as his finger was sliding in you in a pace you could only think as delicious torture. 

As promised, your mind had cleared everythings who’s isn’t related to him and the pleasure he slowly build in your belly. 

“ Oh fuck, soo good, Sanji please more…more…” You whine, your knees shaking as his two fingers pushed further in you.

Still pin at the wall with his large hand on your stomach. Your hands in his hair, trying to keep your sanity. You could feel him smile against the flushed skin of your thigh as the speed of his finger increased and he kissed once more your pussy with his open mouth, reducing you as a babbling mess. 

“ Sanji I…Sanji !” You cried, becoming temporarily mute as the pressure built in your body and your orgasm struck you like lightning, making your knees buckled.

Catching you up before you fell on the floor, Sanji brought you to his desk, sitting you on the plane surface. 

“ Y/N can you spread your legs a little?” He gently asked. 

“ Sanji I will need a minute here” You laugh, still coming down from the previous orgasm. 

“ I know darling I only want to engrave in my brain how you look so beautiful half naked and pleasure high spread on my desk.” He replies, smiling, his lips still glossy of your juice.

“ You’re a pervert “ You joked, spreading your legs for him to see. 

“ Say the girl who wake me up to be fuck until she fall asleep “ He responded, inserting himself between your legs as he bring you closer to the edge for a toe curling kiss ,removing in a fluid moves his boxer, letting him totally naked.

You took the time, as he broke your embrace to extract you from your tank top, to admire, again, the splendors of all his physique. Not that you hadn’t noticed before, you had eyes of course and the man fully dressed was already worth being seen. But having him like that, smiling, as his muscular body overlooks yours, his cock already erect just for you, makes you so happy to have insomnia that night.

Advancing your hand to take his cock, smoothly initiating a move of up and down, you smiled when you heard him moan in the crock of your neck. 

“ Is that good ? “

You didn’t hear the response he muttered,  but as his hand stopped yours to push the tips of his dick on your entrance, you decided that you truly didn’t care.

Thrusting at a slow pace, letting your body adjust to him, the best cook of the east blue was clearly starting to lose the battles with his self-control when your hips joined him in the movement in a way more high cadence. Moaning your name like a prayer, sucking your nipples like if they were made of candy, his hand shaking slightly, he gladly followed your change of regime, making you back arch and welcoming every one of your whine and moan like if they were gift from a goddess herself. 

“ Yes, like that, please just like that Yes” You praised him, your second orgasm near. 

“ Yes Madam” Sanji groaned on your lips with his damn proud smile,rubbing your clit. “ But i’m not done with you yet” 

Your forehead pressed against his, your eyes closed, you exploded for the second time that night.

Your brain, still in a blissful fog, became sadly aware of the hollowed sensation in your pussy when he removed his dick as well as the trail of open mouth kisses Sanji left on your breast before helping you get down off the desk. 

Turning you around, exposing your ass in just the right angle. You loudly gasped when he filled you again, making you wonder if you didn’t get yourself a new addiction. But, if you did, you wouldn’t be alone. Sanji, behind you was a total mess, his breath frantic, thrusting in you like he found in your warm core a new religion beside, of course,the food. 

As your nail was scratching small strides in the wax on his dark wood desk , leaving him physically something to remember that night, you could feel his own orgasm coming.

“ So…so close mon coeur '' He moaned, before letting out a groan of satisfaction as the pleasure finally took him.  

Crying your last moans, your breath panting, you felt his chest trapping you against the wood panel as he slowly regained his composure, whispering sweet praise in your ear.

 “ You know what mon coeur, forget the tea, I will exhaust you everytime you can’t sleep“ 

—

Press against Sanji's chest in his small hammock, your eyes heavy from fatigue, you smiled. 

“ Thank you for the favor” You laugh, yawning.   

“ Anytime Madam” Sanji quietly laughed, his own eyes closing, as you both drifted in the better sleep you had. 

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Echo asking for Reg Manuals early on in his deployment with the Batch wanting desperately for normality. Only to find out that his shitty little brothers cannot care for anything. ever.

Hunter sheepishly hands his over and Echo just stares at it, watches the drool drip from a bite mark in the cover and goes "What the fuck did you do to it." and Hunter mumbles "I was hungry."

Never asking Hunter for anything again, then.

Wrecker looks at Echo like he grew another head and yells: "TECH, WHA'S A REG MANUAL?" which gives Echo all he needs, really. His disappointment turns to "what the SHIT" when Tech oh so calmly points to the very much ruined and indented copy of the Reg Manual that is currently the ONLY thing holding up Wrecker's bunk leg.

The brawler laughs while explaining how THAT happened while Echo tries to figure out why they didn't just.... fix the leg.......

Crosshair doesn't even say anything, just points across to where his is pinned to the wall, blaster bolts shot through the book as it's open on a diagram of a trooper. It was MEANT to display armour, but Crosshair wanted to practice for mess fights.

Echo simply sighs. Because of course he would do that.

Tech, thank the MAKER, hands Echo his Reg Manual and it's completely and utterly pristine. Echo nearly cried with joy, and Tech very expertly dodges his bone-crushing hug of thanks. He just asked for it back later.

Echo plops down in his hammock, ready to kick back and take a much needed trip down memory lane...

....only to find Tech's neat scribe COVERING the pages.

It's fine, Echo swears as he tries to read past it. Just, it's a bit hard when Tech's made so many damn corrections, pointing out errors Echo had seen himself so many times, his writing so lovely and so well tucked to the margins that Echo mistakes it for the actual text.

The deeper he goes, the bigger the notes, and on the blank pages at the front and back, Echo notices the rest of the batch scribbled and drew for each other, obviously following Tech's strict guide to not writing on the actual pages themselves.

It's.. kind of cute, actually.

Its sweet, just how much personality Echo can see in the few messy hearts Wrecker dotted along the sides, or the small reminders Hunter jotted down, for himself and for Tech. The stickman with the crosshair shooting another, goggled stickman doesn't go unnoticed, either, but the date indicates that its been years since that drawing.

At the very end, Echo's forgotten to be so upset at how defiled his usual precious Regs are, instead finding himself smiling at the drawings he found, hidden between pages. To be fair, its mostly plants, diagrams- but Echo can see Tech's handiwork in the messy drawings of Hunter, Crosshair, and Wrecker. They're younger, but it's them.

Tech didn't sign the drawing, but the attention to detail makes it rather obvious who was responsible. Echo smiles, tucking the page back lovingly to its spot, and returning the Regs with care.

Tech doesn't mention it. Echo doesn't, either. He borrows it some more, and mourns its loss when Kamino disappears.

[tarrynightss]

Tsu’tey x Reader wherein reader is Sylwanin and Neytiri’s younger sister? Maybe she’s always liked Tsu’tey but he always had eyes on Sylwanin and she didn’t ever want to hurt her older sister by admitting it, and when she died and Neytiri was betrothed to him, she never says anything because Tsu’tey has always expressed his want to be Olo’eyktan. Though when Jake had mated with Neytiri, the role to be betrothed to Tsu’tey is passed on to her? Tsu’tey lives okay after the war 😭 and reader tries to keep herself at a distance because she knows that Tsu’tey would never love her like he did with Sylwanin but Tsu’tey does begin to love her?

Omg the angst 😭 Thank you for sending a request! I hope it’s along the lines of what you wanted!

Pairing: Tsu’tey x fem!Na’vi reader

Warnings: Angst, pining

skxawng = moron

Wiya = damn

Oel ngati kameie = I see you

Nga yawne lu oer = I love you

As the youngest daughter you had always known your place. You were not destined to be the next Tsahìk like your sister Sylwanin, nor were you expected to be a great hunter like Neytiri. You lived a life with less expectations, but that also meant you stood in the shadow of your sisters. You didn’t mind it most of the time, except when it came to Tsu’tey. You watched him from a distance, a shameful longing building up inside you every time he spared you a word or even just a glance. At first he had been destined to mate with Sylwanin, this position later being put on Neytiri after your oldest sister’s death, leaving Tsu’tey heartbroken. 

You felt filled with shame when your sister Sylwanin died, all those moments you had brushed her off out of jealousy weighing heavy on your shoulders. You vowed to not repeat the same mistake with Neytiri. You respected her future union with Tsu’tey and did your best to support it, but your sister did not want it. She did not love Tsu’tey, and he did not love her. 

It was hard to get past your feelings for him as he was constantly around you and your family. He ate with you, hunted with you. Seeing his face was a daily occurrence. Neytiri would often run off when she saw a chance to, leaving you alone with her future mate. Your heart would beat madly in those moments, every time his eyes met yours feeling so intense. It was all in your head, you told yourself. Tsu’tey had only loved someone once, and that person had not been you. 

Ma oeyä tsmukan you called him. My brother. It was an honor and comfort to call another one of the People that, yet the word felt somehow dirty in your mouth when you spoke it to him. 

As well over a year passed without Tsu’tey and Neytiri mating, you felt him draw closer to you. A press of his chest against your back while you hunted, supposedly to watch your form, or a gaze that lingered just too long to be friendly. It was too much for you and it sent your mind reeling. What if he wanted you? You could not do that to your sister, nor to him! He had wanted to be Olo'eyktan for as long as you remembered, and so he needed the future Tsahìk, not her spare. 

It is not until one night at a celebration that your hope is quickly squashed. You had grown tired after all the dancing and singing, retiring to your hammock far earlier than others. There, watching from above, you observed two figures running off together. As they briefly paused to paw at each other's bodies, your heart froze. It was Tsu’tey, with another woman. It wasn’t uncommon for Na’vi who hadn’t been officially mated yet to take other partners, so that wasn’t what shocked you. The shock came from the realization that all that fondness that he had been showing you lately was very likely linked to this. He had not grown to care for you, but merely wanted to blow off some steam and assumed his future mate’s little sister to be dumb or desperate enough. And you had almost fallen for it. Shame filled you once again and you had quickly turned away from the sight, feeling truly less than for the first time in years.

—

Many things had changed in the last month. Neytiri became mated to Jake sully, a dreamwalker who went from hated by the clan to adored when he returned as Toruk Makto. Your home was destroyed, your father dead, and a once again mateless Tsu’tey had been passed onto you. 

The moment you had secretly dreamed of as a child had come to pass, but you did not feel happy. You, the future Tsahìk with the new Olo'eyktan by your side. What a joke. You had not been trained for this role, and your mate to be did not love you. You tried to play the part as well as you could, standing strong next to Tsu’tey and taking care of him when he had been wounded in battle. 

It took a while for you to recover from your grief and to adjust to having Tsu’tey by your side, but day by day you felt more like yourself. You could laugh again, chatting with Neytiri as you weaved a basket. She told you all about the simple pleasures of having a mate, about the love she and Jake felt for one another. You smiled and nodded as you listened to her, glad to see your sister finally happy. 

“Are you happy with Tsu’tey?” she asked you, and you did not know what to answer.

Tsu’tey was a good and strong man. He treated you with respect, slept near you every night and expressed his affections for you in public. He did his duty. And that was exactly why you couldn’t say yes. Perhaps it was too much to ask, but you too wanted a mate who acted out of love and passion, and not out of obligation. 

—

You laid restless, tossing and turning in your tent, yearning to see the night sky. Even after months had passed you still had to grow used to your new home, more hidden away than before. When you turned over you saw Tsu’tey sleeping peacefully about two feet away from you, his normally tense face appearing so relaxed now. You wondered how much longer it would take before he would start coming home late, smelling of another. Neither of you had initiated mating, and you feared he would get tired of waiting just like he had with Neytiri. You just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t be the one to force him into tying himself to you, and you assumed he had lost his bit of interest in you a time long ago. 

Sick of your own thoughts, you quietly got up, grabbing your gear to fly out on your Ikran. 

The cold breeze that hit you when you stepped outside your tent felt freeing, a sigh leaving your body as you breathed it in. You only got a few steps away from your home before you heard a voice behind you. 

“What are you doing?”

Tsu’tey strode up to you with a frown on his face. When he was close enough you noticed the light flare of his nostrils as he smelled you, apparently too fearing you would seek your pleasures somewhere else. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I am going out to fly, I cannot sleep.”

His answer was instant. “I will join you.”

You are certain your displeasure showed on your face, wishing to be alone, but he ignored it. He started walking towards the tree where the Ikrans slept without even looking to see if you were following, knowing that you wouldn’t turn back. 

The two of you were checking the saddle straps on your Ikrans when Tsu’tey suddenly spoke. 

“Why are you no longer pleased to see me?”

Your eyes went wide as you looked his way, his gaze not meeting yours. 

“You used to be happy when I would come over. You would laugh with me, tease me, but now you are cold,” he continued.

His words made your heart sink. You had done your duty just as he did, you did not mean to be cold. 

“Tsu’tey…” you started, turning your face away so as to not have to see his pained one. “I apologize if I was cold. I have stood by you and have done what is required, just as you. I would not dare ask more of you.”

Tsu’tey lightly shook his head. Your words confused him. He had stuck to his duty and nothing more because he would not force you to mate with him. With Neytiri he had already acted too brazen, had laid his claim over her too firmly and had been humiliated because of it at the end. He was not going to be the Olo'eyktan who’s mate resented him. 

“If you do not wish to be with me, you may leave and choose someone else,” he told you stiffly, catching you by complete surprise.  

Your Ikran shrieked above your head, impatient to fly, but you calmed it with your hand, once again turning your attention to Tsu’tey. “I will not. You are my Olo'eyktan, and I will be your Tsahìk.”

His chest visibly rose and fell as he breathed in deeply, the beads in his hair swinging as he turned around to face you. You looked sad, your ears pointed down and brow creased in worry. It was how you looked whenever something around your mating came up. Even when he held you close to him before the clan, he would notice your ears slightly droop, the smile on your face wavering. 

“I already had two sisters suffer by being by my side,” he said with a strained voice. “I will not have another.”

Your hand dropped from your Ikran as you shook your head. “That is not fair, Tsu’tey. Neytiri was destined for someone else, and Sylwanin… she loved you. She was happy in the time you had together.”

Tsu’tey visibly cringed at the mention of your oldest sister’s name. He had not sought her out at the tree of souls for many moons now, the last time being to seek her blessing to be with you. Her spirit had assured him that you carried love in your heart, that you would be happy. He prayed to see that be true every day. 

“I-“ you bit at the inside of your cheek and forced the words to come out. “I know you loved her too, and I know you will never carry that same love for me.” Speaking your thoughts out loud hurt way more than you had imagined, feeling pinpricks of tears sting at your eyes. “I am sorry if I have been unconsciously punishing you for that. I am trying to make my peace with it.”

Tsu’tey was absolutely taken aback by your words. He stumbled towards you and grabbed onto your shoulders. His expression carried pain and regret, but also a spark of relief. 

“Who said I could not love you?” he questioned.

You looked from his hands on your skin back to his face, the shock of his implication taking your breath away. “I- I had assumed so because you never seemed interested in me. Until a few moons ago your future had not been with me.” You put your hands over his. “You have had your future planned out since we were children. I thought you would be bothered by me disturbing it.” 

“Disturbing it,” he scoffed and looked at you as if you had gone mad. “You skxawng! My eyes had drifted to you long before they should have. You do not disturb my future. You are my future.” 

Your breath hitched as you stared up at him in disbelief. Even your Ikrans seemed to go quiet, the wind whistling past you the only sound around. 

“Why… why did you never tell me?” you asked, voice barely a whisper. 

His fingers stroked over your shoulders as he exhaled. “It was not appropriate at first, and then… Wiya, I had hoped to tell you now we were to be mated, but your feelings had seemingly shifted.”

You unconsciously shook your head at his words. How you regretted these months of holding back, of being too scared your heart would shatter to pieces. 

You raised a hand to cup his face. “Oel ngati kameie, Tsu’tey. Nga yawne lu oer.”

A smile graced his face and he pressed his forehead against yours, repeating the words you had both been dreading. It felt like a weight lifted off of your shoulders, and before you knew it, hot tears started streaming down your face. All of the pain and pressure that had built up the past year seemed to flow out of you, and Tsu’tey held you as you wept. His lips pressed against yours so gently as he wrapped one arm around your waist, the other stroking your hair in a suiting manner. 

“I got you, my mate,” he spoke softly as he held you. “We are no longer alone. I am with you, till the end of my days.” 

[spinchip]

Home

“Hello there. You are alright,” A voice whispers, honey-thick and sweet, “Wake up, little one.”

Zane opens his eyes. That’s not quite right, because he doesn’t have eyes anymore. He doesn’t have a body, either. His physicality has been stripped from him here, in this endless space. He doesn’t open his eyes so much as he becomes aware, senses snapping into focus in the space where his spirit might sit.

In front of him is a pillar of light.

In a brilliant flash a woman is floating above him, laid on her side as if they were both swaying in a hammock. He can almost smell crisp, ocean air. She reaches out to cup his face, the action translating perfectly despite how he no longer has a face to be held.

“You’re not mine.” She chides gently, “Silly.”

“I don't understand.” He speaks without a mouth, no sound reverberating in this hollow space. His voice is crystal clear anyway.

“Did you have fun?” She asks in a warm hum, fingers ghosting over his loose edges to tuck his essence back into shape. Zane imagines this is what having a mother is like.

“Fun?” He echoes, confused.

She looks sad for a moment, but the bright golden light she’s made of doesn’t dim with her frown. It burns just as bright, “Your life was hard.” She murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, “Lonely, right up to the end.”

“No-” He doesn’t shake his head or do anything other than speak. She seems to be the only one in this conversation who is allowed to have hands, “I had my father.” A soft white light pops up in the emptiness surrounding them, “I had my friends.” More lights flickering into existence.

She sweeps all the lights up into the palm of her hand. They’re dark spots against her brilliance, “And yet…” The lights begin to float from her fingertips, drifting slowly into the space above their heads until they’re pinpricks in this facsimile of the night sky, “...Unreachable.”

“I do not like this conversation.” He says. She looks at him like she can see right through him. She probably can.

“What would you like to talk about, little one?”

“Who are you?” He asks finally.

She smiles softly- everything about her is soft, down to the fuzzy edges of her being, “I am everything.”

He tries to process that.

“You don’t understand.” She moves like water as she envelopes him. She wraps her arms around him and draws him close to her heart, “I can show you.”

He can’t comprehend what he sees, what he experiences. It’s pure euphoria, joy, desolation, and hate. It’s war. It’s blood. It’s gingerbread cookies. Little golden threads of light interweave it all, too fine and delicate for the eyes to see. Everything is connected. A vast, endless stream of consciousness.

A thick, bright cord shows him Lloyd.

“Ah,” She murmurs, “He is mine.”

“Yours?”

“Like ice has laid claim to you.” there’s an affectionate warmth in her voice there, “I imagine my friend is not too happy with me.”

He stays quiet, experiencing the eternity that is woven in the golden thread.

“You are not supposed to be mine, Little one. My power was not yours to wield.” Despite her words, her tone remains light and airy.

“I am sorry.”

“No.” She holds him closer, “You’d do it again. For your friends.”

He wishes he could look away, “For my friends.”

“That-” She smiles at him again and he wishes she would always smile at him, “-Is why I allowed it.”

She pauses, thinks for a moment, “I suppose, then, that you are mine. I love you like you are, after all.”

“I love you too.” He’s surprised that he means it. There’s a deep connection between them, like her heart is bleeding into his- or maybe it’s his heart seeping into her. He finally understands, “I am dead.”

“Not quite.” She hugs him again, but doesn’t allow him to become lost in everything.

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” She draws back and taps her chin, thinking. She snaps her fingers like she’s come up with a brilliant plan, “that I am going to break the rules.”

If he had eyes, they’d go wide at that, “What rule?”

“What’s dead must stay that way.” She says lightly, “What’s gone is to stay gone- but don’t worry, little one. I made that rule- it’s okay if I break it a few times.”

“You are…”

“I am sending you back, Zane.”

“Why?” He tries to will himself to hug her back, and he’s not sure how successful he was.

She caresses his cheek, “I want you to have fun. You deserve it.”

“...Thank you.”

She smiles widely for a moment before it dims, “The worst moment of your life has yet to come,” It comes out of her like a condolence, “Do you still wish to return?”

A pit forms in his chest. Losing his father, Dying with the overlord, all alone- there would be something worse? Something worse than a violent, lonely death?

“And the best?”

It’s her turn to furrow her brow, confused. She tilts her head, “The best what?”

“The best moment of my life. Has it passed me by yet?”

She does that motion again with her hands, like she’s catching stray strands of his soul before they float away, “The future is what you make it.” She answers simply.

“The worst moment of my life is unavoidable, but the best is not?”

She looks at him with brilliant, bright eyes, “You would do it again.” She reminds him, “For your friends. In a heartbeat.”

He understands.

“Send me back.”

She kisses him on the forehead again, a deep warmth spreading over his soul, "You will never be alone again. I am with you now, Little one. I am yours just as much as you are mine."

He wakes up.

[neteyamsyawntu]

Kinkmas Day 06

T h i g h F u c k i n g

Lo’ak x Na’vi!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, dirty talk, pet names, vulgar language, thigh fucking, fingering, grinding

“Please mamas, just a little bit…” Lo’ak croons into the crook of your neck, grinding his unspeakably hard erection into the plush softness of your asscheek as the two of you lay in your hammock. “Lo’ I already told you, I’m too tired for that tonight.” You grumble, eyes still closed, brows slightly pinched as you nuzzle into the material of your hammock.

“I know baby, I know. You worked so hard today, let me help take care of you…”

Lo’ak hums against the shell of your ear, his voice raspy as he tries to whisper as softly as possible as not to disrupt your tired state too much, placing a line of tender kisses from your earlobe to your jaw, “I promise you won't have to do a thing.”. You sigh feeling his fingers gently graze over the skin of your thigh, brushing back and forth. Eywa, if you had any ultimate weakness, it was him. 

Your ears flatten as his hot breath fans against your neck, slowly nodding with a soft hum, finally giving him your consent. “That’s it baby… just relax for me…” Lo’ak breaths lifting his hand from your thigh, giving two of his fingers a decent suck to coat them nicely before dipping them down past the band of your loincloth to draw gentle circles on your clit, “Gonna get you nice and wet first, okay?”. You nod silently, feeling your breathing already start to pick up from the simple act, lifting your leg slightly to give him better access, a sigh of satisfaction leaving your lips, as you slightly adjust your position to lean back on him. 

“There you go, yawne… my beautiful girl… Y‘look so pretty like this.” He coos, nuzzling into your hair, allowing you to rest your body weight on him. Your body wasted no time in reacting to his touches, your back arching against him as you felt the pool of arousal between your thighs, building on just below his fingers. With a hushed whimper you grasp his wrist, guiding his hand further into your loincloth to give your aching entrance some attention. “Hah, I thought you were too tired for any of this, huh? Look at you getting all needy for me…”, “Just shut up and touch me…” you whine, backing your rear into his pelvis. 

“Schtt! Easy baby… this what you want?” He hums breathily into your ear as he grinds his clothed cock against your ass again, this time with a bit more force. A weak whimper leaves your lips as you push back on him, moving a dainty hand between your bodies to untie the piece of clothing that was blocking you from exactly what your body craved, quickly discarding and dropping the garment onto the floor of your marui. “Fuck I love seeing how eager you get baby.” He hums in a low growl as his own hands quickly undo his own loincloth, following your example in dropping it to the floor.

Shifting his position ever so slightly, Lo’ak angles his hips so that his cock glides against your slick cunt with a gentle thrust, immediately drawing a desperate whine from you, “Just relax now, mama… let me take it from here.” He breaths against your neck, draping your tail over his thigh as he brings your leg down to embrace his erection between your thighs, holding him snugly against your intimates. The warmth alone emitting from your body between your legs is enough to coax a shaky sigh out from your mate, giving a gentle back and forth of his hips to test the waters, loving how your body squirms as his tip sweeps across your clit. 

“Fuck… just like that baby.. stay nice and still for me- mmn…” his tone of voice triggers a flurry of butterflies in your stomach, yet you find yourself hardly being able to focus on them as he draws a more tentative thrust of his cock through your folds, spreading your moisture across your intimates in a thin layer. A weak mewl leaves your lips, eyes still closed as you let the feeling of his cock sliding between your thighs take over your mind and numb your senses. 

 Lo’ak’s fingers indent the flesh of your hip as his grasp on you becomes tighter, more assertive, beginning to rock your hips back onto him, forcing you to meet his thrusts. Your eyes then flutter open as you instinctively push back on him, a louder moan breaking the silence with an underlining harmony of Lo’ak’s own drawn out groan. “God, you’re so fucking sexy baby. Being such a good little slut for me while I fuck your thighs- haah.” Lo’ak partially growls under his breath, against the shell of your ear, as his hands knead at the flesh of your hip, continuing to guide your body back and forth on his cock. 

Thrust after thrust his tip continues to push at your clit, making your body squirm at the sensation, your own hand reaching down to slip between your bodies, weakly pushing at his abs to ease up on his movements, your mind feeling heavy and dizzy all at once as you feel the knot in your core steadily tightening, only to be rewarded with a gentle slap of your thigh, “Uh- Uh, baby… need you to be a good girl for me and get this dick all wet when you cum.”. A meek whimper escapes your throat as Lo’ak picks up the pace of his hips, but not too much, loving the way you writhe and your hips jerk as your intimates grow more sensitive. 

“Hnng- Lo’ak..!” you whine, pleasured tears slowly making their way down your cheeks, before a gasp pulls you out of your thoughts when two fingers press against your clit drawing firm circles along with the friction of his dragging cock. You were already so close and he knew it, but Lo’ak just couldn’t help himself; seeing you all sleepy while being putty in his hands as he pleasured you was just the icing on the cake for him, bringing his own climax that much closer. “Cmon, ma’syulang… want you to make a mess on my cock.”. The growl in his voice causes your toes to curl as your walls tighten around nothing until a thick flow of arousal coats your nearly abused labia. Another growl sounds behind you with a hushed “Fuck yes…” as Lo’ak suddenly rolls you into your back, now hovering over you, his hand practically flies to cup his shaft, using your juices to pump himself until his release paints your abdomen in a sticky mess. With a huffed out sigh, Lo’ak rests his forehead against your own, leaving small kissing along your face. A soft plea of his name has his body tingling at your tone; so fucked out and exhausted, to him it was just so damn cute. “Shhh… get your sleep, sevin… I’ll get you cleaned up. I told you I’d take care of you, remember?”.

Tag list: @itchaboi-itchyboy @pandoraslxna @oakbuggy @plooto @xylianasblog @etherial-moon-blog @hikari-michiko @neteyamssyulang @blue-slxt @c-townes @loaksxhoe @xstarsdiary @neteyamswillow @akoyaxs @neteyxmsgirl @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @zafrinaxyz @neteyams-wh0re @neteyamyawne @kiri-tuk @beauitful-brown-skin-05 @akoyaxs @neteyamsstuff @puddleswimmingnerd-blog @ntymavtr @luvv4j4ybe11

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 19- Curiosity(Yandere Rise Mikey x Reader)

A/N, not important: You know, if life screws me over today and I can't finish tomorrows, I think I'm okay with 19 consecutive posts. I'm not happy, but I don't think I'd do anything drastic over this one. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Kidnapping, hinted disturbing imagery w/out detail, obsession, mention of gorey drawing, snooping, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 1776

Summary: You finally get access to Mikey’s locked notebook and aren't sure the bubbly turtle is as innocent as he seems anymore.

The concrete floor of the lair’s living room was cold, the freezing stone seeping into your shirt and numbing your stomach. You shiver at the feeling, unsure how pleasant you truly thought it felt. Despite insisting for the past thirty minutes it was fine, you were starting to regret your call as the cold latched onto your limbs and was starting to take your arms down too. You never realized how difficult it was to draw with numb fingers. You take a small breath, grumbling quietly as you shift on the floor in an attempt to get warm.

“Hey Mikey?” You catch his attention, frowning slightly because you knew you were giving in to winter's touch. You didn’t think you’d bail so soon. Mikey looks at you, his warm eyes also seeming to know exactly what you wanted, as if he was more surprised you lasted this long.

“I have a big blanket in my bed.” He says simply, turning back to his work. You nod gratefully, pushing your palms against the floor to pick yourself up. You shiver as you walk towards the orange turtles room, your teeth chattering from the brisk air. You didn’t understand why Donnie was so insistent on waiting until one of his projects was complete before cranking up the heat since his lab had its own separate thermal system, but no one dared to complain. Donnie wasn’t against ‘accidentally’ shutting off the system entirely while his room is unaffected. You were all certain it was just to keep Leo away from Donnie’s inventions anyway.

Pushing the door aside, you walk into Mikey’s room. It was the same temperature as the hallway, but the more colorful walls made it feel warmer. If you tried hard enough, you were fairly certain you could have a conversation with the paintings on the walls.

You spend little time admiring the graffiti Mikey covered everything in. You had been here millions of times before, and it had been a few weeks since Mikey added another masterpiece to his room. You drift over to the hammock and shuffle the pillows and blankets around to find your favorite, the large fluffy one Mikey always lets you use. You wrap the plush blanket around yourself, convinced you had just stolen a piece of heaven to sink into. The little warmth your body was generating is trapped within the blanket's fabric, quickly returning the color to your face.

Your eyes drift around the room one last time as you walk to the exit, merely scanning for oddities than truly taking in the details. Your eyes land on a bright red sketchbook sitting inconspicuously on Mikey’s desk, the usual diary lock that kept it closed sitting open and to the side. The sketchbook was open, showing off a drawing of someone familiar. You move closer, ignoring the nagging voice that was scolding you for snooping.

The drawing was of you, sitting next to Mikey on the couch. You were both leaning on each other, hands and legs entangled in the silly pose. Your face was happy, the graphite drawing somehow capturing the light and care in your eyes. You smile softly, kneeling down to take the sketchbook in your hand and admire the drawing more. It was a surprise to see, but a very welcome one.

You thumb the pages over to the beginning, looking through the drawings more. You seemed to be the main focus of most of the drawings, which helped you feel justified in looking through the sketchbook. There were so many sketches of you, the first couple innocent and sweet like the one you first saw. You frown as you glance over the fourth and fifth pages, the detailed drawing of you chained and gagged making you feel uneasy.

The next few pages were similar, all depicting you in ways that made you uncomfortable or sick. You stop looking through at the eleventh drawing, the dead bodies being too similar in looks to your friends and families. You shakily set the book down, unsure how to feel about what you just saw. On one hand, they could very well just be practice, and he found you easy to draw. On the other… 

You shudder, not wanting to dwell on the implications of that. You quickly thumb through the drawings, trying to not look at them as you try to return to the original page that was open when you came in. You’re so engrossed in your mission, you don’t even notice Mikey entering the room and shutting the train car's door behind him. He walks forward, startling you as he grabs the notebook from your hand and carefully closes it, making sure to not bed any of the pages.

You gape at him, eyes wide and barely breathing. You struggle to speak while he locks the notebook, his face blank except for the smile on his lips. It was like he was glad you saw his drawings.

“I-I’m so sorry Mikey, I saw it open and then when I went to grab it, I dropped it and I was trying to fix it, but I couldn’t find the page and-” Mikey kneels in front of you and covers your mouth with his hand, stopping your desperate lies from falling. His eyes were still the same, warm and kind and oh so innocent, something you were starting to not believe. He looks down at the sketchbook in his hand, then sets it back down on the desk.

“It’s fine,” He lies, the words coming easy. He keeps his hand firmly over your mouth, not trusting you to not interrupt. “I was going to give it to you anyways! I’m just a little disappointed you peaked so early. It kind of ruins the gift.”

He pouts at you, his hand finally dropping from your mouth. Before you can speak, his arms wrap around your lower back and pull you forward, sending you crashing into his chest. You grunt in discomfort, your head knocking comfortably against the dull points of his plastron and the blanket being the only thing that kept you from the rough texture. 

“So, how much did you see?”

His soft voice sends chills down your spine. You weren’t used to so much forced happiness in his voice, and no longer being able to see his face from your position made it so much worse. You gently try to push him back, your heart thudding against your ribcage. Your fists slowly close, his arms holding you tight against him so you have no chance of moving. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, desperately chasing down the fear that was starting to consume you. You try to think of what to say, unsure of how to step to calm down the young mutant.

“Not much,” Your throat is dry when you speak, causing your words to be quieter and harder than you wanted. Mikey shifts you closer to him, his face pressed into your hair. You don’t try to struggle in his arms, wanting nothing more than for him to calm down and let you go. “I just saw the first couple pages.”

Mikey hums in acknowledgement, his chest lifting higher as he breathes deeply for a moment. His voice is tight, almost nervous. You weren’t sure how to take it. “What did you think?”

“They were… Nice.” You say, your stomach churning once more as you remember the drawings and what they contained. The blood and gore of your family members from the final page would haunt you for years to come. Mikey nods despite your unease, seeming to brighten at the answer. 

“Good. I’m glad you like them. I really really like you, you know. I wanted to give that to you before I asked you out but…” Mikey takes a deep breath, his voice darkening and his arms growing tighter around you. “Well, you ruined it. You ruined the surprise, and I’m really mad at you right now.”

Your blood runs cold at his words, unease biting at your heart and soaking into your veins. Mikey doesn’t speak for a moment, his body tense. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you got the feeling you had to leave. Now.

“Hey Mikey?” You mumble, trying to tread lightly. You didn't want to make him more upset. He squeezes you, letting you know he was listening without making a sound. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I need to go home. I- I have homework, remember?”

Mikey doesn’t answer, his grip tightening more and you were sure you could feel your bones stress under the pressure. You open your mouth to continue, but he cuts you off, the usually bubbly turtle's words turning cold.

“You’re not leaving.” He says shortly, an almost whine in his voice despite the cold words. You tense, unsure how to respond. The growing fear in your heart wasn’t helping you think clearly, and you couldn’t see a good way to get out of this.

Mikey breathes through his nose, trying to calm himself so he doesn’t do anything brash. You both sit there for a few moments, your face forcefully pressed up against Mikey’s plastron. Your breathing is starting to get more laborious as panic continues to set in, Mikey’s compressive hold not helping in the slightest. The turtle himself also seemed unsure what to do next, his arms shaking as he held you. Neither of you move nor speak, not wanting to break the heavy silence that fell upon the room.

“I’m sorry,” MIkey says suddenly, his voice making you both jump. He licks his lips before continuing, your silence encouraging him to finish. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave. I need you. This, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Before you can ask what he meant, Mikey stands up with you in his arms, his spots and eyes glowing as he lets his powers flow. Your panic escapes you now, screams and cries erupting from your float as chains wrap around you and lock you in place. Now fully bound, Mikey sets you down in his hammock bed, his eyes shaky while he backs away. He looks over you, seemingly looking for injuries while you continue to scream and curse his name. Mikey seems upset at the outburst, quickly walking out of sight before reappearing with a small cloth he shoves into your mouth. The dusty rag burns on your tongue, making you choke and cough.

“I’ll be back.” Mikey mumbles, his eyes disappearing as he turns around and marches off, leaving you to steam alone in his cold, treacherous room.

[buggy-samaaa]

Caught, part 15

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Word count: 406

Content: NSFW — mdni, gender neutral reader, no y/n, second person POV, voyeurism, anal, masturbation, misuse of devil’s fruit powers, man musk, pillow humping, auralism, degradation

Tag list: @hey-august, @bbnbhm, @genius---jester, @lostfirefly, @ane5e

——

Buggy wasn’t sure what his “O-face” looked like, but he’d be hard-pressed to believe your drawings were inaccurate.

His eyes traced and retraced the flurry of images, each of them more lewd than the last. You had only seen him from the back when you had walked in on him — it definitely couldn’t be explained away as recording an event in your journal. No, you were undeniably taking the time to imagine Buggy’s expression the moment he came. And you had decided to keep the pages.

Do you intend to revisit them?

Have you already?

Do you… touch yourself… while you look at… …him?

Buggy’s face was as red as his nose as he covered his mouth, breathing heavily and continuing to stare at the open book. He suddenly slapped it shut, clambered out of your hammock, replaced the sketchbook on its shelf, and rushed out of the crew’s quarters.

Buggy hobbled to his room and locked the door, then stripped his clothes and started the water in his shower. He leapt in before the water was even hot and grabbed his throbbing cock in his fist, pumping it furiously.

“Oh– oh, God,” he huffed, his eyebrows screwing up as he closed his eyes tightly. “Ohh, God, you fucking pervert,” he muttered with a trembling laugh that shifted into a moan. “Goddamn freak, drawing me like that… Fuck, you liked it, didn't you?” He grunted and changed from moving his hand to rutting into it, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “You fucking liked seeing me fuck myself, you dirty little–” Buggy cut himself off with another moan. He pressed his forehead against the wall of the shower as he fucked his fist, grunting with each sharp thrust. “Fuck, I want you so bad,” he said through another little laugh. “Want you— so—” Buggy groaned deep in his throat and held his fist in place as he came, then he slowly thrusted a few more times to release all he had.

He let out a long breath and relaxed entirely, then cleaned himself off, his body thrumming from his high. He closed his eyes and let the water run over him as he grinned widely, thinking of what this whole discovery meant regarding a potential relationship with you. Then his grin faltered as he gained some post-nut clarity.

There was no way to justify any sudden advances without admitting that he’d snooped in your sketch-journal.

Shit.

[digital-domain]

New Year’s Day

Mahito x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Synopsis: This particular holiday - it’s another one of those human concepts that he doesn’t quite get. And of course, he wants you to explain it. Out of all the questions he’s asked you, it’s certainly not the worst…right?

Content tags/warnings: kidnapped reader, forced relationship, implied noncon

A/N: a bit angsty, a bit philosophical, a bit dreadful. Because I cannot be normal about any holiday and neither can He

You’re lying on the concrete floor of the sewer, staring up at the ceiling. Hands layered under your head, providing just enough cushion to make your posture sustainable, if not necessarily comfortable. You’ve got a pile of blankets nearby, and yet at the moment, you prefer the floor. It’s something different, a hard, harsh sensation that nevertheless breaks up the oppressive same-ness of your surroundings. You’ve been here a long time, long enough that all sense of days and weeks passing has abandoned you. Staring at this same ceiling, these same walls. It’s quiet, too, except for the occasional drip of water. You barely even register that sound anymore, so accustomed have you become to your surroundings. You’ve counted every crack on the ceiling at one point or another, sung every song you remember in your head, silently recited snippets of conversations, old jokes - anything comforting. Anything to pass the time.

Right now, your mind is playing a lyric from a song whose title you don’t remember. Something from the early 80s, you think. It’s infuriating, in a very mild way, this incomplete memory, the way you can place the lyrics in time, but not in the song they’re from. You grapple with it for minutes on end, but you can’t seem to get beyond the few lines you remember, and the haunting string of melody between them. I will begin again. I will be with you again.

You’ve been experiencing frustration like this more and more often. You’re scraping the bottom of your memory, running out of new things with which to occupy yourself. And still - you’re still grateful for these times. The monotonous times. The moments when you can fix your eyes on a particular spot above you, and almost forget that you share this space with another. It’s strange, how these moments can stretch on for so long, and still seem not-long-enough once they come to an end. Even if it’s been hours, even if Mahito has been wrapped up in a book all afternoon - once he comes back to your side, the memory of those boring hours becomes fond, for a moment. Then, it seems to disappear, as if it were merely a mirage.

This particular reprieve is drawing to a close. Even now, you can hear the faint creak of him rising from his hammock, the fall of his feet upon the ground. You savor your last moments of isolation, tracing a crack in the ceiling with your eyes until, far too quickly, it’s obstructed by his hand waving an enthusiastic greeting - or perhaps, merely attempting to shake you from your trance.

He crouches down beside you, already reaching for your hand, and you quickly sit up. You prefer not to be lying down when he’s close. Of course, you know you’re equally vulnerable regardless of your position, but it makes you feel slightly - very slightly - better. Makes you feel like you have a bit more time before something inevitably goes wrong.

But it doesn’t last. He takes your shoulders, and eases you back down to the concrete. Tucks one of your hands carefully behind your head. Presses his palms to your knees until you give in, and straighten your legs. “I like this better,” he says simply. “I see you sitting up all the time. And standing, and curled up in a ball, and lying on your side…even lying on your back with your knees up, in the middle of all your blankets. But this doesn’t happen nearly as often. You kept pulling me out of my book this afternoon. The floor is hard. Not fun to lie on. But you still looked so…” he cocks his head, thinking through his next words. “Comfy! That’s what it is. You were even smiling for a while. I liked it.” He grins broadly, and takes your free hand. Squeezes. “And now I get to see it up close.”

You don’t smile. This doesn’t feel comfortable anymore. It feels exposed. It’s incredible, how quickly he can steal so much away from you. How he can make even the time you spend alone feel like his.

“I have a question,” he says, and you feel the pit in your stomach deepen. These conversations never end quickly. Especially not when he’s staring at you as intently as he is right now, eyes unblinking, a smile already playing at the corner of his lips.

You’ve been watching his face in silence for too long, apparently. With his free hand, he pokes you on the shoulder, the nail of his index finger carelessly stabbing you. Twice. “Cutie. Wake up.”

You release a long breath, doing your best to keep it steady. To not betray your discomfort. “What is it?”

“Celebrating the change from one year to another…why do humans do that?” His face hovers over yours, falling closer by the second, an almost suspicious expression written across his face. “You don’t celebrate the change from Saturday to Sunday, or November to December…so why does this one matter so much to you?”

Despite the precariousness of your situation, you can’t help but feel a slight bit of relief. As his questions go, this one isn’t bad. It’s not horrifically personal, or hinting at any sort of bloodshed. In fact, you’re sure that you’ve heard people ask similar things before. “I…never really thought about it.”

He jabs a finger at your brow. “Think! You’re a human…you can figure it out, if you try.”

“Well…” You could think better if his nose wasn’t brushing your face, but you don’t dare tell him that. “For one thing, it happens less often than a new week or a new month.”

“Hm.” His eyes slide upwards as he considers this, before landing once more upon your face, latching on a with renewed intensity. “Does that mean it matters more?”

“Maybe. But also, I think there’s something sort of…symbolic about it. It means something to people that months and weeks just don’t.”

He swells forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, leaving behind a splotch of saliva that you don’t dare wipe away. “See? You’re thinking! I knew you couldn’t do it. I can see those little gears turning in your head right now.” His grin is broad, eyes bright with curiosity. “What does it symbolize, then? What does it mean?”

It’s all you can do not to shut your eyes. All you can do to stop yourself from shuddering, from attempting to squirm out from underneath him. But this isn’t that hard of a question. You’ll answer it, and then he’ll be satisfied. Maybe he’ll even be happy enough to leave you alone for a bit longer. Although if he does…you won’t stay lying down. Not like this. You’ll probably never do it again, now that you know how it draws his eyes. “It means…a new start, for a lot of people.” He’s still staring at you, breathing shallowly against your cheek, waiting for more. You do your best. “Some people make New Year’s resolutions. Things they want to do in the new year that they didn’t last year. Exercising more, eating healthier, reading more books - that kind of thing. Not everyone sticks to them, but some do. For them, a new year is…a clean slate. A chance to do things differently than they did the year before.”

“Oh.” His grin slips a bit. As he thinks, his fingers tap absentmindedly against your shoulder, creeping slowly towards your neck. “So…it’s made up! The whole thing…you made it up, just to help yourselves feel better. To help yourselves change.”

“I mean…yes. In a way…”

He keeps speaking, as if he hasn’t registered the hesitance of your answer. “Humans do that a lot, don’t they? You take days, and decide that they’re special, because it makes you happy.”

You don’t like the fervor building up in his voice. The widening glow of his eyes. When he talks to you about humans, as if you’re merely something to be studied - it makes you feel like a specimen on the plate of a microscope. You try to remember the relative comfort of a few minutes ago, the song that was playing in your head moments before he crouched down beside you. But you can’t pull out the memory. With his face so close, you can barely even see the ceiling. He has this habit of taking up your entire field of vision, and the entire space between your ears. It’s suffocating.

You need him to stop talking. Need him to let you remember. Need to give him something new to ponder, just to buy yourself a few moments in your own head. A few seconds of your own time. “It’s made up…but for some people,” you manage, “it feels real. And thinking that it’s real…it helps them.”

He sighs, an almost melancholic sound that your body seems to echo as his finger traces up your neck, as his hand settles on your face, palming your cheek. “The lies you tell yourselves are beautiful, sometimes. But they’re still lies.” Slowly, inevitably, he lets himself fall on top you, the length of his body pinning your already motionless form to the floor. “You should understand that better than anyone.”

He’s looking up at you from your chest, and you press your head up from the floor to look back at him. You want to look up at the ceiling, to forget about him entirely, but right now, you know what a mistake that would be. Instead, you give in, and provide him the answer he’s looking for. “Why?”

“Because nothing changed for you,” he says simply. “You were here yesterday, and you were mine. And today - New Year’s Day - you’re still mine! And next year, too, and the year after that…for you, nothing is going to change. Ever.” He pulls himself along the length of your body, slithering up to draw his face even with yours. Aligning your mouths. Your eyes. “Don’t frown. It’s better this way. You’re free! No more silly little human lies for you.” He tugs at the corners of your mouth, pulling it up into a grotesque, unwilling smile. “That’s better!”

He kisses you, and his arms loop beneath your shoulders, holding you tight, fingernails digging through your shirt into the soft skin beneath. His hips press into yours, grinding slowly as you struggle to hold yourself still. His teeth sink into your bottom lip. And you think that despite what he’s said, there must be a part of you that still believes in your silly little lies. Because out of all the things that should be hurting you right now, all the thoughts you should be having - the only one you hear is: he didn’t tell me about New Year’s Eve.

[silentsamlikesham]

Sanji injured his hands and is struggling to get things chopped in the kitchen. Who better to help than the ships swordsman?

Wordcount: 2,349

...................

The wood creaks as the ship sways. The ropes of the hammock dig lightly into Sanji’s back as he stares at the lines in the wooden ceiling above him. It’s a daily discomfort, one he doesn’t even notice anymore when he’s tired. But now, he’s wide awake.

The boy’s room is always dark, no matter the time of day. It’s clear to Sanji though that it’s morning. His mind has woken him up as usual, pushing him to go get breakfast ready. For once, the routine is a bitter one.

He runs a hand over his face, wincing at the motion. He lifts his left hand up, framing it against the wood. He stares at the purple bruise across the back of his hand in disgust. It hurts to flex his fingers, to close his hand into a fist, to hold a fucking knife. 

He brings his other hand up, glaring at the brace on his middle and ring fingers. His middle one had been dislocated. He can still see the sly grin on the pirate he’d been fighting, his cruel smirk as he realised Sanji’s weakness…his hands.

He’d caught the chef by surprise, smacking an iron bar into the side of Sanji’s head when he’d been distracted by a scream of pain from Nami. He’d crumpled to the ground, already placing his hands flat on the deck to push himself back to his feet, to kick the asshole into oblivion. The world had seemed to stop, the foot coming into his view in slow motion as the oaf had cracked his boot down hard, crushing Sanji’s hands in one stomp. 

The pain itself was nothing, the guttural scream from Sanji had come from a place of pure panic as he thought his treasure had been crushed, destroyed. He could feel the dread in his chest, an immeasurable force that had winded him, throwing him into despair in the middle of the battlefield.

Sanji likes to think he would have gotten through it. That he would have beaten the guy despite his state. But he’ll never know, because seconds later Luffy had rammed into the guy at full gum gum rocket speed. He wasn’t sure if his captain had seen what had happened or if it was pure luck that he ended up colliding with the enemy.

Either way, Sanji was once again grateful for his captain. Even if watching the enemy pirate fly off the ship had been bitter-sweet, it was satisfying enough. 

Chopper did his best when the fighting ended, examined Sanji’s hands with careful hooves. Worry had been building in Sanji’s throat like a bubbling poison, he could feel his breathes coming shallower and quicket until Chopper had looked up at him with a small smile.

“Nothings broken, Sanji! Although…they may hurt for a while…I’m sorry…”

Sanji ignores the pain of his hands as he pulls a cigarette out, lighting it in his hammock and watching the smoke swirl upwards. He lets himself get a couple of draws in before he forces his legs over the edge of the hammock and jumps softly to the ground. 

He’s just going to have to suck it up and use the bruised hand as well as he can to chop. It’s not like he can make it worse, it’s just going to hurt. Although it had been enough last night, trying to prep for dinner. His shaky hand had left his vegetables uneven and ugly in his eyes and it had taken him far too long to get ready. Still, he’ll make do, he must. He has a hungry crew to feed after all. 

He gets changed quickly, not bothering to throw a blazer on after going through the agony of buttoning up his shirt. Putting on his shoes is probably the worst of it though, and as soon as he’s in the hallway he lets himself angrily stomp to the kitchen.

He pulls the door to the galley open, surprised that someone has already lit the lanterns in there, as the sun still hasn’t risen this early in the morning. 

He freezes in the doorway, blinking stupidly at the silhouette of the person standing against a countertop at the other side of the room. No one is ever up before him,

“Morning, cook.” 

Zoro looks like he’s been napping where he stands. His eyes blinking blearily open, trying to focus on the blonde as Sanji shuts the door and marches towards him.

“What the hell are you doing here, Mosshead? I swear if you’ve touched anything in the pantry-”

Sanji is already rolling up his cuffs as he makes his way to stand in front of the green-haired idiot. He tries to hide his flinch as his hands slip on his sleeves, a simple motion so frustratingly difficult.

“Relax, Curley.” Zoro doesn’t seem phased by the aggression. He just yawns in Sanji’s face, undisturbed by the way Sanji is swinging his hip, rearing up a kick.

“I thought you might need someone helping you with sousing or whatever…” The swordsman looks away from Sanji as he speaks.

If Sanji had been shocked at the doorway, he’s floored now. He’s pretty sure his brain has short-circuited somewhere, the lightning flashes in his brain overflowing with static as he tries to piece together what the blush on the other’s face means.

“Sousing? Do you mean a fucking sous chef, you moron?”

His words are harsh, but there’s no bite to them. Sanji is struggling to close his mouth, just gawking at Zoro as the he begins to fidget under Sanji’s gaze.

“Whatever.” Zoro shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, like anyone can be a sous chef.

Sanji tsks, taking out another cigarette to calm his nerves as the scene become unbearably uncomfortable. It’s so out of character for Zoro, it’s freaking Sanji out. 

“A sous chef is a serious role in a kitchen, Mossy. You wouldn’t even keep up as a porter.”

Sanji can practically see the red tick on the back of Zoro’s head as he whips his eyes back to Sanji’s, glaring at him again. At least that’s more normal for them.

“I’m not here to wash dishes.” He hisses, surprising Sanji. Surprised he knew what a porter did in a kitchen.

“What do you want then? I need to start on breakfast, and I’m not in a mood to play make believe with whatever weird fantasy of being a chef is brewing in that moss brain of yours, Marimo.”

“Being a chef? Shut up.” Zoro yells, his cheek bright red at the comment. “As if, why would I need to know how to cook when you’re more than willing to do it? I just noticed how shitty you were at cutting stuff for dinner last night, and figured you needed some help.”

Ah. So that’s what this was about. What an asshole! Underestimating Sanji…

“As if you’d know what well cut vegetables were like if they slapped you in the face and decorated your swords.” Sanji barks, his leg flying up and down towards Zoro’s shoulder, intent on dislocating it. 

Zoro’s eyes widen for a brief second before he brings a hand up to catch Sanji’s ankle, his grip like iron as he holds Sanji’s leg in place. The blonde hops briefly on his other leg, getting comfortable in his stance as he tries to push his leg past the hold.

“As if I’d ever need your help.” Sanji spits, shame burning in his gut at the thought. He wasn’t helpless, he could do this. He doesn’t need Zoro’s pity.

“I don’t need to say shit, Ero-cook. You know I’m right.” Zoro grins, knowing the best way to get through to the idiot cook is to have him accept what Zoro is saying, rather than make him admit Zoro is right.

He pulls at Sanji’s ankle, forcing the other to follow the tug until he’s leaning closer to Zoro, forced to look him dead in the eye. Their bodies are pulled against one another, Zoro relaxed while Sanji is all tense lines. His body straining to remain upright in this position, despite his flexibility, it’s not the easiest. 

“Let go.” He hisses, wondering if he can manage to swing the other leg up in this position, but worried Zoro would drop him and any support he has the second his grounded leg lifts.

“Let me cut.” Zoro counters, looking the cook up and down in his compromising position, enjoying the flush of anger that colours Sanji’s face at the move. 

Sanji weighs up his options. He can either tussle with the idiot for the next few minutes, he’d obviously win, but it would take time. Sanji isn’t really willing to have breakfast served late to their captain, not with how restless the captain has been while they’ve been searching for a new island.

On the other hand, the thought of letting anyone, of letting Zoro touch his knifes…it’s not a pleasant feeling. A chef’s knives are sacred to them. He spends hours with them, relying on them, looking after them. Sanji’s eyes flick to Zoro’s katanas…well, maybe if someone was to understand...

“Fine.” Sanji sighs, the fight leaving him as he feels himself getting antsy to have everything ready in time. 

Zoro tilts his head, dropping the other’s leg as promised. He didn’t think the chef was going to give in this easily. Then again, Zoro knew from the start Sanji did need the help. The idiot is just being prideful about it.

“But you’re going to do exactly as I say, Marimo. No backtalk when it comes to kitchen work.” Sanji points a finger at him, ignoring the pain as he locks eyes with Zoro with the sharpest look he can muster.

“Whatever.” Zoro agrees, not wanting to start another fight. 

Sanji turns, ignoring the response as he heats a pan on the stove, pouring a generous amount of oil onto it before he takes out a chopping board, grabbing onions and bell peppers from the pantry and leaving them beside the wooden block.

He can feel Zoro standing behind him like a shadow, watching his movements with interest as Sanji hovers a hand over his block of knives. He swallows back a nervous lump as he picks one up. 

“Dice them, you know even little squares.” He passes Zoro the knife, holding the handle out to him.

Zoro rolls his eyes, trying to hold back his exasperation as he mutters a quiet “I know what diced means.”

Sanji chooses to ignore him as he goes to find some eggs. Not trusting himself to watch Zoro without grabbing the knife out of the oaf’s hand and doing it himself. He tries not to flinch as a rhythmic beating fills the kitchen, the sounds of the knife hitting steadily off the wood as Zoro gets to work.

Sanji focuses on breaking and whisking the eggs. The task isn’t easy on his hands either, but it doesn’t require the same amount of precision and force as chopping does. When the eggs look well whisked and fluffy, he turns to see Zoro is leaning against the counter. 

The onions and peppers lay waiting in a bowl that Sanji had left beside the chopping board. They’re well cut, the pieces almost in perfect uniform to one another. It’s both a relief and extremely annoying that the swordsman is actually good at it.

“Not bad.” Sanji comments as he takes the bowl and pours the contents into the pan, the kitchen filling with the sound of sizzling oil. Sanji focuses on spicing things as Zoro quietly washes the knife and places it back in the block.

There’s a weird warmth in Sanji’s chest from the gesture. He ignores it by barking at Zoro.

“You can set the table if you’re just going to stand around.”

He misses the eye roll he receives in response. 

By the time Sanji has the eggs scrambled, Zoro has set the table and placed the last of their bread onto the table, surrounded by butter and the different jams that Sanji liked to lay out.

It’s not long before the rest of the crew wake up, strolling into the kitchen in various moods and energy levels as they all get through the morning at their own pace. Sanji smiles as he serves coffee to the ladies and dishes out breakfast to everyone. 

Luffy comes bounding in demanding the bacon that Sanji had put on last, knowing it was best hot and ready to go for the nutcase. 

He barely spares a glance at Zoro throughout the meal. It’s only as everyone disappears from the kitchen table, plates piling up and ready to clean, that Sanji notices it’s Zoro carrying them over to the sink for him.

It’s Zoro that stands at his side again with a towel, taking the cleaned plates and drying them before stacking them to be put away.

As Sanji carefully dries his hands, gently patting around the bruise and doing his best not to jostle his brace, he finally looks at the swordsman who has just shoved the dishes back into their cabinet.

“Oi.”

Zoro turns to look at him, his eye twitching uncertainly like he’s waiting for Sanji to yell at him.

“Thank, Marimo.”

There’s a pause. An unusual silence, a tension clenching the air between them. A weight to a simple word that neither of them really know how to hold.

“Don’t mention it, dart-brows.” Zoro shrugs, his hand grabbing his hilts on reflex before he leaves the room.

Sanji lets out a held breath as the door closes, slumping against the sink as he’s left alone.

Is he going to have to go through this again at lunch? 

His hearth thumps insistently against his chest, almost as wild as when he gushes over the ladies on the ship.

He did not need this; he thinks bitterly as he stares at his hands.

He has enough to worry about now than thinking about Zoro’s hands clasping his knife-

Nope.

No, he’s not going there.

He needs a fucking cigarette.