#blue water inn

[anae-art]

Day 16 - Wine I came back faster than I expected! I can now catch up on my drawings i this challenge I admit, I have a small weakness for Urwin and his family

[calebisdrawing]

A digital watercolor sketch of The Blue Water Inn taproom, from Curse of Strahd.

"Damp cloaks hang from pegs in the entrance portico. The tavern is packed with tables and chairs, with narrow paths meandering between them. A bar stretches along one wall, under a balcony that can be reached by a wooden staircase that hugs the north wall. Another balcony overhangs an entrance to the east. All the windows are fitted with thick shutters and crossbars. Lanterns hanging above the bar and resting on the tables bathe the room in dull orange light and cast shadows upon the walls, most of which are adorned with wolf heads mounted on wooden plaques."

You can find hi-res progress sketches and images on my Patreon.

[niccola-decapovina]

*cleric slipping out of the room, to get help from other party members in the tavern* NPC: Hey, I heard like, wolf related noises coming from your room, is everything alright? Cleric: Uuuh...! *checks for insight, the guy is tense and will storm the room if not properly persuaded that there's nothing to worry about* *which is bad, cause there is actually a party member currently becoming a werewolf* Cleric: You know uuuh, we are kinda into the roleplay stuff! I think you'll understand! NPC: ??? Cleric: ???

I have a feeling that the cleric will be persuading a many NPC that nothing wrong is happening, when in fact, bad things are taking a turn for worse.

[simple-scholar-nr2]

Turns out, sleep is a hobby, not a necessity. Who knew?

Anyway, if either of you find my shoes—or my dignity—let me know.

[gooseontheinternet]

meeting Izek Strazni sent well last night

[vi0letflames]

[barovianmist]

im gaslighting my roommate (who is a pc) so hard rn lmao dinner's happening and there's so many wolves surrounding the wizard tower (where the important npcs are) and my roommate 1) thinks something bad is going to happen to ismark because i keep laughing at this meme

and 2) they now believe im collapsing the wizard tower with vr, ismark, and rameses inside. neither of these plans are in the works.

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part five ]

[ part one ] & [ part two ] & [ part three ] & [ part four ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: fluff, sfw, a bit of suggestive talk

word count: 2029

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

the serene atmosphere of your sunlit bedroom was suddenly disturbed as you jolted up in bed with a gasp.

heart racing and head spinning, you sat there, stunned.

was it … just a dream?

your brow furrowed as you looked up and around the familiar space. there was your bookshelf, your desk, your chair … oh.

you rubbed your eyes to do a double take at your chair. sure enough, atop it laid the two-piece outfit you had worn out with stanley last night.

slowly, a wide grin spread across your face. as you began to get out of bed and prepare yourself for the day, memories came back to you one by one.

let’s see, then … when we got back here, we had that conversation in the car. i remember being really sleepy, and kind of stumbling into the inn.

you wandered into your bathroom, splashing your face with cold water.

then, we parted ways. he practically skipped away to his room.

the faucet ran as you laughed softly to yourself. a certain warmth filled your chest, spreading throughout your body: an uncontrollable joy.

who would’ve guessed? me, in love … i’m so happy.

suddenly, everything was peaches, unicorns, and rainbows. you felt as if the butterflies in your stomach were throwing a wild dance party, and all the world was invited. ecstatic, you danced around your room, putting on day clothes and taking extra care as you groomed yourself. yes, this called for three extra spritzes of your favorite fragrance. absolutely, it required your nicest jewelry. after all, you were on a serotonin high, and you never wanted to come down—the person that you love loves you back!

as you made your way out into the hallway, a part of you was tempted to slide down the staircase like mary poppins, but you quickly decided against it as you recalled your lack of magical gravity-altering powers. instead, you settled for a regular-paced descent, walking down both sets of stairs until you came out into the lobby.

you waved to one of your employees at the front desk. “good morning!”

“ah, good morning, boss. you sound cheery today. did something good happen?”

“wellll, yeahhh, you could say that …” you beamed, covering your mouth like a child with an innocent secret.

the worker laughed, shaking his head. “i won’t pry, although i do have a guess as to what it is. you’re all set to take your shift, by the way.” he walked out from the desk, and you took his place, watching as he disappeared to go on break.

just then, a hand touched your shoulder.

“boo.”

you jumped, whipping around to the source of the voice. a smug stanley stood beside you, laughing at the reaction he’d managed from you.

“haha! hey, don’t be scared, toots. ‘s just me.” he winked, giving you a small squeeze before letting his arm fall down to his side. “ya look cute t’day.”

“you look pretty nice yourself.” you hummed, giving him a quick once-over. that earned a small blush from stan, who stammered as he attempted to think of a comeback.

“oh—oh yeah? well you—uh … ahh, i got nothin’.” he grinned sheepishly, pleasantly surprised at the way you were matching his energy.

at that moment, the little entrance bell rung as the front door swung open. a new guest had entered the building. recognizing this, stan took his cue to back away and let you do your job.

the stranger approached the front desk, and you offered him a smile. “welcome to the inn! just a room for one today?”

the stranger, who appeared to be tall and blond, stared at you with piercing blue eyes. “yes … that was the plan. but i must say, you’re a charming little doll. you might just make it a room for two.”

you were taken aback. “sir—”

“hey, can you blame me? i’m in town for a tour, and i’m awfully bored … why don’t you humor me?”

*SLAM*

stanley’s rough hand hit the desk surface with force as he positioned himself between the stranger and yourself.

“you got a problem?”

his threatening words rumbled lowly, striking through the air like thunder.

“what’s it to you, lowlife raccoon? do you really think you’re scaring anyone with that attitude?”

the bulkier man growled, his eye twitching. “you wanna take this outside, punk?”

“yes, let’s. i’d hate for your little crush here to watch you get hurt.”

immediately, alarm bells went off in your head. “wait, what—”

stan began to walk towards the back door with the troublemaker. shooting a glance back at you, he mouthed ‘don’t worry’ before closing the door behind him. of course, that only made you worry twice as much.

a part of you longed to follow them and make sure nothing bad happened, but you knew that you couldn’t just abandon the desk during your shift. an anxious breath escaped from your lips as you craned your neck to try and see if you could catch a glance of them through the window.

mere seconds later, there was a distant crash. you startled, quickly running over to the back door and opening it to look for the two men. much to your relief, stanley came walking back over to you from around the corner, completely unscathed.

“guy ran off all scared after i knocked his tooth out. said sumthin’ about his ‘career being ruined’. tch, what a wuss.” he rolled his eyes, sliding his arm around your waist and walking you back towards the front desk. “sorry he said that stuff to ya. i took care of it, though, yeah?”

you flushed a shade of red at his arm around you and his close proximity. “y–yes. thank you, stan.”

the brunet puffed up with pride. “anytime, angel. if somebody tries anything like that again, y’ come get me. i’ll take care of you.”

looking this way and that, he leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your cheek before grabbing his car keys and walking towards the front door. “i gotta thing to do. see ya later, gator.”

you stood frozen in place, processing what had just happened. explosions were going off in your brain, and stan chuckled to himself as he left the inn.

some time passed, and it was finally your lunch break. you’d been thoroughly distracted all morning by the way stanley had been acting towards you.

he’s so … clingy. ugh, i miss him already.

his hair is so pretty … and his eyes … and that stubble …

you were slowly being pulled into daydream land—but the rumbling of your stomach snapped you out of it.

“urgh. time to eat.” you mumbled to yourself, making your way to your room. there were some leftovers in the fridge that were practically calling your name.

after retrieving the box of food and a clean fork, you turned around to return to the lobby, but stopped in your tracks upon seeing someone standing in the doorway.

“heya, toots!” stan beamed, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “yer never gonna believe what just happened.”

this was the most excited and happy you’d ever seen him. intrigued, you set down your leftovers on the table, giving him your full attention. “what is it?”

“i just landed a security guard gig for the theater down the street. they figured out i could throw a punch or two, an’ offered to pay me full-time to keep troublemakers away from their shows!”

your eyes widened as you realized what this meant. “then … that means …”

“i can stick around n’ actually have a chance at making the green i need!” grinning, he threw his arms around you. “i’ll stop takin’ up space here, n’ get a place for us—i mean, me—i mean—”

you laughed, squeezing him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. “stan, i am so proud of you!”

hearing those words did something inside of him. his whole body tensed, then relaxed, overwhelmed with emotion. “you … you are?”

“of course! i love you too much to feel any other way, y’know.”

tears stung at his vision, and he hastily rubbed them away with his sleeve. “... heh, thank you.”

stepping back to look him in the eye, you rested both hands on top of his shoulders. “when you first got here … i could tell how unhappy you were. i hated seeing you like that.” you moved one hand to brush some hair out of his face. “and now look at you. you’ve come so far.”

stan melted into your touch, leaning his face into the palm of your hand without thinking. “yeah, i … i guess i have come a ways, huh?” he sighed, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “honestly, you were the one who caused it. ‘f it weren’t for all your help, i … i’d prob’ly be in an even darker place than i was before.” turning his head, he kissed the inside of your palm. “thank you.”

you blushed, your whole body warm with happiness, gratitude, and excitement. “well, i couldn’t just ignore you.” you pulled him into another embrace, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “stanley, you’ve captivated me, mind, heart, and soul.”

he hummed lowly, pushing your hair back to press another kiss to your forehead. “you did the same thing to me. i … just can’t stop thinkin’ about you.” he pulled his head back to gaze at you lovingly. “... ‘bout how lucky i got to find you.. my angel.”

“i love you.”

“heh– not more than i do, toots.”

“no proof.”

you were just inches away from a second-ever kiss when a knock on the door rudely interrupted, causing the two of you to jump away from each other and stare as it began to open.

“oh sh–” stan slapped his hand over his mouth, diving behind the sofa to hide. all you could do was stand there as normally as you possibly could, pretending like nothing important had been previously happening.

“uh … was there someone else in here, too?”

it was your coworker from earlier that day.

“NOPE! nobody. just me. why would you think that?”

he narrowed his eyes. “right … you know it’s your property, it’s okay if there was someone.” shaking his head, he remembered his initial purpose. “anyway, i just wanted to come find you to see if you wanted to go out to lunch with me and liz.”

“oh. well, uh …”

“... it would also be a nice opportunity to tell us about any … juicy secrets?”

you snickered, shaking your head fondly. “well, fine. i’ll tag along, then—with a plus one.”

“I KNEW IT! —i mean, uh, cool, good deal. we’re meeting in the lobby in ten.”

“i’ll be there.” you waved goodbye as he shut the door, and stan reappeared from behind the couch. the two of you simply exchanged looks, and started laughing.

so, you had a lovely lunch outing with two of your co-workers and a rather nervous stanley. he was surprisingly shy for the intimidating big-guy persona that he gave off, which was adorable. it didn’t take long for him to earn the approval of the others—they were both moved to tears after listening to his life story. jeff, the male of the two, kept complaining about how it wasn’t fair that you had such a good man just suddenly show up on your doorstep, whereas liz warned stan that if he ever hurt you he would have to deal with her. all in all, the whole group had a great time.

presently, you were sorting through a mail delivery that had come for the inn, making different piles for guests and employees who had received letters and other packages.

it was just then that something caught your eye.

it was a postcard … addressed to stan.

huh … i wonder what this could be about?

you stifled your curiosities and stopped yourself from reading his mail, and instead chose to slip it underneath his door.

oh, well. i’m sure it’s nothing important.

… right?

end

author's note:

*holds stanley so gently in the palm of my hand*

love this guy ... what a guy

drop a comment to be added to the taglist for part six :)

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[chiisana666]

walk him like a dog!

synopsis: some perverts need a serious reality check.

warnings: NSFW, MDNI, 18+ sub!perv!sanji x mean!dom!fem reader, big dick sanji, non-con voyeurism, dub con, sanji is a nasty perv fr, slapping but he likes it, blackmail?, footjob, mention of zoro x reader, sanji w/ a tongue piercing, cunnilingus, semi-public, choking, edging?, ruined orgasm, unprotected p in v, cum swapping, more stuff that I missed

wc: 3334

notes: image sourced from pinterest, credits for dividers here. not beta-read so apologies for any mistakes, I wrote this all in one sitting and was blushing like a slut the whole time. i wanna step on the stupid cook, he is so baby girl <3

There you are before him, dripping wet and pissed as hell.

He hadn’t meant for you to catch him - he didn’t even know how he ended up in there, honestly! But you knew better than to trust whatever bullshit alibi the cook spewed when you caught him poking around in the women’s changing room.

Sanji had been present when you announced your intention to unwind in an Onsen not too far from where the Thousand Sunny was docked, inviting Nami and Robin to join. Much to both your and Sanji’s disappointment, both declined, opting to turn in for the evening in preparation for setting sail the next morning. But it did not matter, you would enjoy a quiet evening soak and perhaps a nice sake after regardless.

The kindly old woman behind the reception counter of the inn was overjoyed to have a customer, and you were delighted to find the hot spring empty, all for yourself. Once behind the red curtain concealing the woman’s dressing room, you strip away your sun-bleached top and tight shorts, undergarments following suit. You neatly fold the articles and put them into one of the numerous empty baskets on the shelf, placing your shoes aside. Wrapping yourself in a fluffy white towel that the old lady had given you, you entered the bathing area, sliding the door shut behind you. Hanging your towel on a nearby hook, you gingerly dip a toe in the water, before slipping fully in. The steamy water welcomes your aching muscles, tenderly loosening the knots tethered across your neck and shoulders. You sigh pleasantly and relax against the rock behind you, eyelids drooping shut as you sink further.

Unbeknownst that steps away lurks an all-too-familiar face. It had been easy enough for Sanji to slip away after you, claiming he too yearned for a soak. Really, he thought it was a nice idea and meant to enjoy some relaxation himself. But the obvious lack of customers and the late hour were all too tempting, and Sanji easily slipped through the red curtains rather than the blue.

He was just going to take a quick look, and then go to the men’s side. He peeks inside the only occupied basket and goes red in the face as he is greeted by your cotton panties neatly placed on top. Just once and then he’ll leave. Sanji presses his nose against the crotch and inhales deeply. It was intoxicating. His left-hand gropes at his hardening cock through his black pants, and one turned into two, and two turned into three.

Sanji’s gaze steadily lingers towards the sliding doors to the spring, he can hear you faintly humming a familiar tune. Perhaps he can just take a quick glance, and then he swears he will leave. He creeps towards the doors, your panties still clutched in his right hand. Using the greatest care, he inches it open, just enough to reveal a sliver of the scene it obscured. There you are - just a slice but enough to send Sanji reeling - leaning against a large rock, your locks messily done up to keep them dry, the swell of your breasts peeking above the water line, all while the hum of your sweet voice flitters through the air.

His eyes roll back as he raises your underwear to his face again, sliding his hand beneath his pants and giving his dick a firm squeeze. He wants to burn the image of you into his mind, eyes peeping open occasionally to ensure all the details are correct. His left hand fists at his stiff member as he imagines what more lay beneath the water’s edge. Sanji groans lowly while he pictures how your pretty panties snuggly grip your ass, or the heavenly sight of it slapping against his thighs while he drills into you from behind. He swore he could hear the sweet chirps that would fall from your supple lips, begging him for more, harder.

Sanji was close, just a little more and then he could cum and leave, and you would be none the wiser. He moans again, a little less mindful that you were mere feet away. He tugs at his cock, feeling his balls tightening just as he is about to-

BOOM!

Sanji topples backward, his tailbone smacking against the wooden floorboards while his hands fly behind to catch himself. He snaps out of his daze on impact and meets you with a shocked expression.

While enthralled in the depths of his disgusting, perverted mind, Sanji had failed to notice that you had left the springs and toweled off. It was during this that you heard a quiet groan, so faint you almost missed it. Initially fearing someone, perhaps the old woman, maybe hurt, you wrapped yourself up and hurried towards the doors. But then, you halted right before them, noticing the tiniest crack between the door and the frame. Through this, you caught the smallest glimpse of blonde hair and immediately slammed the door open.

So now, there you are, dripping wet and pissed as hell. Your towel is clutched against your nude body, hair now freed from its’ confines. Your jaw clenches tightly, and Sanji swears he can see the steam blowing out of your ears.

“Why you-! You vile little- you, you!” Words cannot express the admonishment you feel in this moment as you take in the cook: his belt hangs unbuckled, button and fly open to expose his hard dick pressing against his boxers, begging to be freed. His face is flushed, blonde hair damp from steam and sweat. And your crumpled panties lie next to him, evident drool marks littering them.

You growl and lunge at him, your hand tangling with his locks and yanking him into the bathing area, before slamming the door shut behind him.

“What is wrong with you!” You shriek, letting go of his hair and flailing your arms around. Sanji falls to his knees and peers up at you, bottom lip slightly quivering. He wasn’t sure if he should be turned on or fear for his life. Likely the latter, but he was more so feeling the former.

“I cannot believe that you would- argh!” You reel back, right hand striking his left cheek with a loud smack! Sanji’s head jerks to the side as he falls forward onto his hands, a loud, shameless moan echoing around you. His cheek tingles and burns as blood rushes back to his cock, reminding him of the orgasm you had stolen from him moments prior. You stare at him for a moment, shocked at his unconventional reaction. Then, you squat to his level, and, using the same hand you just struck him with, you grab at his hair again and force his face up to meet yours.

“You disgust me, Sanji,” you spit, noticing the ill-defined outline of your palm and fingers on his cheek. You might want to fuck him up, but if he is going to behave this way, you might as well enjoy yourself too, “Perverts like you are good for nothing, right?” You give another yank, sending shockwaves through his scalp and down to his cock.

“Right?” You ask again, more aggressively due to his lack of response. His eyes clench shut, afraid he may cum the second he meets yours, “Look at me when I speak to you, mutt.” Your hand moves to grip his face, fingers digging into his cheeks, forcing his lower jaw to hang open. The tip of his pink tongue pokes out as he gazes at you, half-lidded, while your head moves closer to his.

“Yeth!” he lisps through puckered lips, wincing at the crushing force bruising against his tender cheek, dick twitched in his pants. You smirk at his pure patheticness, humming contently in response.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” You stand up abruptly, pulling him back onto his knees by his jaw, which continues to prove just how much he enjoyed this. Sanji could easily free himself from your grasp if he wanted to, and yet he lies limp while you drag him around like a ragdoll.

With one foot planted firmly into the stone ground, your other traces up his thigh to his covered cock. You press the ball into his shaft, eliciting a guttural moan from Sanji’s chest, gurgling on the spit that had accumulated in his mouth as a result of the grip on his jaw. Running your toes up and down his length, you sigh, hand moving to regain his locks once more. You massage the crown of his skull soothingly, tilting his head upwards while you lean over him.

“Why shouldn’t I just tell everyone,” You purr in his ear, biting at the lobe, “the cook is a nasty pervert that peeps on girls. Imagine what the crew would say?” Sanji’s eyes shot open, what would he do if everyone found out about this incident? They knew he could be obsessive, but this was entirely different than just fawning over pretty women. Surely, they will kick him off the ship, drop him on some island in the Grand Line, and never turn back. Or worse, perhaps he will be thrown overboard to whatever creature lurks beneath the waves.

You sense his fear and giggle, placing a wet kiss on his jaw, “Guess you’ll have to convince me to keep my mouth shut.” Your toes curl under the waistline of his boxers, tugging at it so it slaps against his hip bone with a thwack! Sanji leans into the kisses you sloppily pepper along his cheek before a firm pull at his neck alerts him.

“Off,” you demand, fingers wrapped around his black tie. Stepping back, you watch as Sanji’s trembling hands undo his tie and unfasten the buttons of his blue-stripped dress shirt, discarding both to the side. He looks back at you, eyes pleading for your touch once more. You stare at him like he is stupid and scoff, “Everything, mutt!”

Sanji makes quick work of the rest of his clothing, kicking off his shoes and yanking down his pants and boxers in one motion, thumbs peeling off his socks last. He sits back on his forearms, fully nude, dick standing proudly against his lower abdomen. You feel your mouth salivate and thighs clench together at the glorious state of him. No matter how much you want to despise Sanji, you can never deny how beautiful he was, and even more so his dick was. The mushroom head is flushed red, angry, and leaking globs of precum. He is larger than you had expected, seeing as most perverts sported little cocks to juxtapose their massive egos.

But no, Sanji impresses you in both length and girth, possibly rivaling Zoro’s dick which had fucked you stupid on more than one drunken occasion. And his hefty balls that hang between his spread thighs are the cherry on top.

You leisurely untuck your towel and let it slip down your body, exposing your lusciousness to Sanji. He sighs, cock bouncing.

“Well?” you ask, arms crossing and eyebrow quirking, beckoning him to make the next move. He crawls toward you and rests on his haunches, thick hands grabbing at your calf while he leans down to kiss at your ankle. The fine hairs of his mustache tickle with each smooch, and the scruff of his beard drags behind them. Sanji puckers moist, messy kisses up your calf and across your thigh, creeping past your perfect cunt while his hands caress your hips and ass. He licks and suckles marks across your pelvis, pulling you into his body, your hands reaching down to steady yourself on his shoulders.

His striking eyes bear up into yours as he grabs your right leg, hooking it over his left shoulder and pulling your cunt to his face. Sanji flattens his tongue against your damp core, and you jump at a cool metallic feeling on your clit. He licks a languid strip up towards your mound, flicking slowly, obviously showing off the barbell pierced through his fat tongue.

Sanji devours you, switching between fucking your sopping hole with the thick pink tip of his tongue and tickling over your clit with his piercing. The firm grip he has on your waist and thigh is all that is keeping you up, entranced in the methodical rhythm of grinding your hips on his face, one of your hands stroking through his golden locks.

Sanji can feel his dick twitching and throbbing at your sultry gyrations, desperately wanting to feel your sweet cunt milking it. He groans into your cunt at the thought, vibrating your clit.

“F-fuck San-ji,” you keel over him, pressing his face impossibly closer to you. You can feel a familiar pressure thumping deep within your abdomen, a slow ascension beginning. You so badly want to cum all over his stupid face, but you cannot erase the image of his gorgeous cock from your thoughts. Much to your own dismay, you push his head away from your core, dropping your shaking leg and pushing at his shoulders. Sanji gets the hint and lays back across the stone floor, shivering at the coolness despite the billowing warmth of the hot spring steps away.

You drop to kneel above his hips, dripping cunt hovering inches above his thick, weepy cock. You trace your hands across his broad chest, pinching at his nipples and scratching at his pectorals with your nails, before finally taking purchase at his throat. You give a gentle squeeze and his hands, which now rest on your hips, offer one in return. You giggle at the somewhat cute exchange, leaning down to meet his lips with yours. The kiss was gentle, lulling you into forgetting how this exchange even began. His tongue dances with yours, sweeping around your mouth, piercing clicking against the back of your teeth.

You drop your hips to grind your wetness up and down his length, soaking his cock and balls with your sweet juices. Sanji bucks his hips up into yours in response, exchanging moans through kisses. The pudgy tip prods at your hole, hooking at your clit – although this alone was heavenly, you can feel your patience growing thinner with each thrust.

Breaking free from his lips, you left one hand wrapped around his neck, keeping yourself propped up, while the other reached behind you. You position his tip at your entrance, inching yourself downward on his cock, slowly split yourself open. He fills you up almost too perfectly, head massaging your spongy walls as you begin to fuck your tight pussy up and down his length.

Sanji’s eyes clenched shut; he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and it was taking everything in him not to stuff you full of his creamy seed right there. His grip on your hips tightened, alerting you to his nearing peak. You snapped your hips against his harder, ass slapping against his heavy balls while his tip prodded aggressively within you. Your greedy cunt sucks his cock in, clinging like a vise. Sanji’s breaths become shorter and more exasperated, eyes rolling back as he feels his balls tighten with the grip you had on his neck. He was so close, so so close-

And then you stopped, completely halting the movement of your hips within a second.

“Nooo!-“ Sanji whines, but is cut off with a harsh smack to the left side of his face with the backside of your hand.

“Shut up.” You command sternly, a harsh contrast to the sweetness of your earlier kisses, “Why the fuck would I let you come before me? Are you that fucking stupid, mutt?” Your degrading words send a shudder down his spine.

“You’ll be lucky if I let you come at all,” you chuckle at the flash of fear that ran through his eyes, mimicking his earlier panic. Leaning back, you release his neck and rest your hand on his thigh behind you. Your other reaches down to grasp the base of his cock in an ‘o’ shape, acting as a make-shift cock ring.

You grind your cunt down onto his pelvis, his groomed pubic hairs tickling at your clit while his dick kneads your walls. You sigh in contentment as you resume your bouncing, your juices making it easier to accommodate his thick length.

Sanji can already feel his high creeping in again, stomach tightening while he thrusts his hips up into you to the best of his ability. But the tight grip you had on the base of his cock inhibits him from toppling over the edge. He wants to cry, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he starts to babble at you.

“Pl-please baby- fuck- please let me c-cum inside of you,” He sobs pathetically, drool dribbling from the corner of his swollen lips. His wet eyes peek open to meet yours, hoping to find a shred of mercy but only to be met with malice. You grin wickedly at him as you slam yourself down on his thick cock, abusing your own cunt.

“Wanna fill me up, hmm? Tch- as if,” you jeer, purposefully clenching your walls around his aching dick. Another sob wracks his body as Sanji tenses, trying desperately to loosen your hold just enough for him to cum. But, if anything, you tighten it impossibly more, bouncing on him faster and faster, “You should be grateful I even let you stick it in my pussy.”

You throw your head back, feeling your core tighten and your legs begin to give out. Your own peak was right there, and you barrel towards it like a mad woman. Your bounces become sloppy, turning into messy thrusts as your climax hits. Your toes curl as bliss encapsulates your mind, your essence flooding your walls and coating his length. The clenching of your pussy around his length as you ride out your high is unbearable, and tears stream down Sanji’s cheeks while you selfishly abuse his poor dick.

The roll of your hips becomes more controlled and rhythmic as you come down, rolling your head and shoulders as you ground yourself back into reality. The tight hold you have on the base of Sanji’s cock does not let up once, leaving him dangling by a thread while you revel in your release.

You give him a look of pity, offering a warm smile as you tenderly slide up and down his dick. His breathing is still heavy, tears still flowing.

“Alright, alright,” You give in half-heartedly, slipping him out of your sore, sopping cunt.

“Wait, no!-“

“Cum,” you interrupt, releasing your grip and delivering a harsh flick to his puffy tip. Sanji screams as spurts of hot cum coat his stomach, hips thrusting violently in search of anything to fuck him through his orgasm. He tries to reach a palm to fist his cock, but your hands snatch his wrists and prevent any relief they could have brought.

It takes several moments for Sanji’s incessant whimpering and bucking to subside, leaving thick globs of seed painted across his abdomen. You scoop some of his cum up with two fingers, bringing them to your mouth to suck them clean, moaning at the taste. He is salty and slightly musky, likely from the copious amounts of cigarettes he smokes. But there is a delicate saccharine taste that lingers on your tastebuds. You swish the cum around with some saliva, leaning down to capture Sanji’s pouty lips in yours, spitting the mixture into his mouth. He swallows without even having to be asked.

Your bare chest relaxes against his, skin sticking together, while you gingerly nip and suckle on his lips, arms caging his head and fingers playing with his hair. You lay with him for many moments, relishing in the brief intimacy.

“Chérie…” Sanji groans wantonly, but you hush him before he can continue.

“I think we can work out an arrangement, cook. In exchange for me keeping your nasty secret.”

[herpsandbirds]

Trinidad Motmot (Momotus bahamensis), family Momotidae, order Coraciiformes, Blue Waters Inn, Tobago

photograph by Paul Wittet

[kikker-oma]

I made a small fic for this piece of art you did bc it stuck me with emotion and I couldn’t resist

the art:

Time walked through the inn hallways, carrying a glass of water for the traveller, who had succumbed to magic exhaustion and was resting peacefully for the time being. He heard a keening sob, and then a sniffle and paused, the water splashing slightly from the abrupt stop. He followed the sound to the room where the sailor, the smithy, and the captain were staying. Worriedly, he knocked on the door with his free hand. “What?” Came a worn, small voice and the old man’s heart stuttered. 

“Can I come in?”

“I—“ A hiccup. “Yeah.”

He turned the knob and opened the door, stepping inside and examining the room, seeing the familiar blue tunic of the sailor’s and recognizing Wind, sitting on one of the bed’s with his legs dangling on the ground. He met Wind’s eyes and saw the tears and softened, closing the door shut as quietly as he could. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Time approached the kid slowly.

When all he got was a barely bit back sob he sat down next to the sailor and noticed he was clutching a telescope tightly to his chest, so tightly his knuckles were white. He didn’t press, merely laid a hand on his shoulder. And Wind looked back at the old man with streams of tears falling down his cheeks and dripping down his chin, his eyebrows pressed and he released his tense grip on the telescope holding it up slightly. “Y’know—sometimes I stay up…A-and I think about what she went through.”

She. Time held his breath, wondering who this girl was but also finding himself nearly at tears seeing and hearing this. Wind hiccuped again. “And—I th-think that.”

A sob tore its way out of the kid’s mouth and Time uttered something softly, a reassurance. Wind continued anyway. “It r-really should’ve been me.”

“No. I don’t know what happened, but you don’t deserve whatever was so bad that she went through.”

“My s-sister, she was kidnapped. She was only six years old—“ Wind gasped. “And she has nightmares of her time in a cell. I would’ve been able to handle it, old man. It should’ve been me.” 

And didn’t that make Time’s heart ache more than ever. He hugged the kid. “She’s safe now, right?” 

“W-well yeah…”

“Because you rescued her. Who would’ve been there to save you had you been in her stead?” 

He got no reply, just a muffled hiccup. Time wiped the kid’s tears away. “We can’t change the past. And no matter what your mind may tell you, even though your sister has gone through a lot, she still has you, right? You’re both still alive.” 

He wasn’t expecting a response. He wasn’t expecting anything from the poor kid right now. 

Kids. These are just kids.

Time waited patiently, keeping the sailor company as he took in what was just said and continued to cry, until Wind spoke, saying, “This telescope is my sister’s. She let me borrow it, before she…Y’know got kidnapped but when I tried to give it back she insisted that I needed it more.” 

“I see. She sounds kind.”

“She is. She helps out where she can and she comforts me when I have nightmares and Grandma isn’t there to,” Wind sniffled, rubbing his eyes. “Aryll’s the whole reason I’m out there, looking for a new place to call Hyrule. I just wish she hadn’t had to go through what she did.”

“I find myself wanting to meet her,” Time hummed. “Is she younger or older than you?” 

“Younger. When she got k-kidnapped I was about 11.”

And so the old man stood up, and smiled softly back down at the sailor. “Would you like to check on the traveller with me? I was giving him some water.”

“Yes!” Wind smiled back, hopping up and following the old man through the inn.

I feel sick. These kids have gone through so much…because I wasn’t there. I abandoned them.

ASHAJAJAHFJF

Time comforting Wind is SO PRECIOUS!!!

Dad vibes DAD VIBES DAD VIBES!!!

Oh wind is such a selfless older brother, he cares so much and is so sacrificing out of love!

I adore that time doesn't expect anything from wind, just talks with him and comforts, and then gives him the option to help Hyrule totake his mind off of it. A nice distraction while also fulfilling the need to do more and help❤️

Oh but Tiiiiimmme don't you start feeling the same way!! Someone tell this man to listen to his own words!!

Thank you Uni, this was SUCH a lovely surprise!!!!!

[calebisdrawing]

Apologies for the terrible gif! -it’s something I’m working on for all my Barovians! Hope you enjoy.

[wachter-nic]

Kar, you're late.., again. This means you're paying tonight!

People keep asking me what my job is. Honestly, I just show up, say something vaguely important, and hope no one notices I’ve been sneaking wine the whole time. Efficiency is my middle name. Or maybe it’s Chaos? Who’s counting?

[kryscent]

tsuki no hikari ☆ 1

pairings: opla!zoro x gn!reader

wc: 5.3k

content briefing: slow slowburn. canon typical violence (description and dialogue). the east blue saga. lore heavy!reader. multi-chaptered work so expect fluff, angst and suggestive content ahead. alternating povs. the reader used to go by the name hikari but is not an oc (i promise its for the plot)

synopsis: a vigilante of sorts, you roamed the east blue without any particular aim, until one odd mission pulls you back into a part of your life you'd almost left behind, meeting someone you'd almost forgotten.

teaser | next

Your hand clenches around the hilt of your sword, the scabbards of the two blades at your hip clacking together as you disembark the weak sloop, boots splashing onto the shoals. 

Lifting the duffle carrying your bow and quiver onto your shoulder and tightening your dagger around your opposite arm, your eyes take in the havoc wreaked upon the town in front of you. 

Late, your conscience gripes, you’re late. 

You’d gotten word on your den den mushi ear-piece from your informant, while resting in an inn on the suburbs of Shells Town - news on the streets said the Buggy Pirates were besieging raids across the Organ Islands, shortly after the embarrassing defeat of Axe-Hand Morgan. (Admittedly letting out a chuckle, seeing as to how you’d arrived to uncover the inconsistencies of pirate capture-defeat reports from the 153rd branch. The work was cut out easier for you with him out of commission for a day or so, though unfortunately, the safe you’d been looking for was missing.) 

You didn’t, however, expect to come upon Orange Town in ruins, seeming devastatingly uninhabited. Wind blows through the wreckage, howling eerily through the empty walls, caved-in roofs billowing dust as they collapse further at the prodding of the gust. 

Raids would infer looting - stealing of goods, valuables and treasures by corrupt pirates from nondescript towns and villages; or on the latter side, the kidnapping of “useful” village folk, holding hostages. But this is Captain Buggy you’re talking about - any inference may as well be considered useless, scattered to the four seas, when it comes to his maniacal tendencies. You'd heard enough about the famed clown pirate, mostly from Shanks, and you’d felt bad for the man he’d described, at your young age.  

You trudge further into the town, lifting fallen slats to check for injured townspeople or wounded animals trapped under, head tilting curiously at the lack of any sign of life, aside from the telltale odour of rotting food. 

You’re considered a vigilante of sorts by the people living in the villages you protect and liberate; the name ‘Hikari’, said with their heartfelt gratitude and respect, was your only identifiable – memorable – feature, aside from the painted kitsune mask covering your face. Utmost importance was given to the safety and wellbeing of the people you fight for – which meant fighting against bad pirates and bad Marines alike. 

It was a given you left Shells Town immediately on hearing of the altercation, and your mind swims with possible reasons for the absence of life – perhaps they fled? Your questions are answered in part, your brows meeting as they furrow at the sight in front of you. 

A red, white and blue striped circus tent, fitting to Buggy’s colour scheme, rose up in the centre of the debris, applause and hollering permeating the fabric to reach your ears. As you make your way to the tent, the air cracks to a dull thud, later followed by the sound of loud, running water (high pressure, through a pipe?), and you break into a sprint, skirting far around its circumference to enter without getting yourself killed by surely armed guards. 

All sounds suddenly quiet, right as the wind flaps at the bottom of the tent. Lotto. You make your way to it, leaving your bag at the opening while muttering a prayer to the seas that no one will halt your entry. Crawling under, mask pushing to the side of your face in the midst of your efforts, you stop in your tracks as a man falls limply to the ground from an impressively built arm, strangulated. You quickly get to your feet as a pretty, orange-haired girl, who you assume was in the dangling cage that rocked back and forth behind her, cuts through the rope fastening his other arm with a kunai thrown by the serpent looking man at her feet. She pays you no mind, seeing as to how you haven’t said anything or attacked them yet; gathering her weapons from where they were stored away, you catch sight of striking blue eyes in the mirror. 

Your eyes meet the gaze of the man on the murder-pseudo-wheel of fortune, as he steps off and shakes out his shoulders, levelling you with a scrutinising stare, cocking a straight green brow, matching the cropped hair on his head, a set of three earrings glinting on his left ear. Handsome, you think, eyes darting over his face appraisingly. Warm but hardened chestnut eyes, full lips, broad shoulders and a honed figure. Blinking away the thought, you dart out to the arena stage, leaving the bemused pair behind. 

The lights are dim, with only a few azure spotlights on, making it hard to see very far. Coincidentally, you end up right at what looks like a throne. Buggy’s throne. Funny enough, no guard is stationed here – considering he probably didn’t want to share his spotlight. 

Your gaze trains to your side, observing the desperate stares of the villagers, wide-eyed and cheeks stained with tear-tracks and soot. Your eyes flick to their feet; chains. Oppressed. You decide you despise him, with every fibre of your being, any remaining pity or sympathy rinsed clean with the tears of the villagers he’s shackled to the benches of his circus. 

You’re right in his line of sight, from where he’s mocking a boy in a tank filled with what looks like seawater, cackling wildly in seeming joy, muttering about a “devil fruit”. You throw your dagger, landing right between his fingers on the glass, with deathly precision. 

‘Hey Bungy, you get off on torturing kids?’ you say sharply, chin high and voice faux pitiful, creating enough of a diversion as the glass cracks from your throw, and the ginger girl from earlier unclasps her bo staff and pitches it right at the spot over your dagger. (Hm. Assistance wouldn't hurt, especially if they're on the good side) The clown’s head is turned to you, howling “It’s Buggy!” before he twists his neck in alarm at the dual damage to the material. 

‘Where are my freaks?!’ he shrieks, looking around frantically, before his eyes latch onto the green-haired swordsman across. Three swords, you note, cocking your head curiously. His eyes are sharp, focused on the clown from under the bandanna covering his mossy hair, his reply clipped. ‘They’re not coming,’ his voice is gravelly, tone threatening danger. 

The tank before you fractures before shattering completely, a small tidal wave flushing the imprisoned boy and the fool to the ends of the stage. You stand by, a single sword drawn, stony expression twitching slightly in disgust as the boy regurgitates what looks like an impossibly long cylinder, coughing out the water he’d swallowed. Your gaze travels to his head of wet curls, a familiar curved scar under his left eye… Your eyes widen slightly as he drags himself across the ground, reaching for a distinct straw hat. 

‘Luffy?’ you whisper in shock, short breath leaving you in the form of a gasp. ‘You know him?’ comes a voice from your right – you turn to face her, the girl with the bo staff, swirling it in her palm before bringing it to rest at the small of her back. ‘Nami,’ she offers, by way of introducing herself, relaxing slightly at your recognition of the boy, and you return it with a nod, followed by your own name in exchange.  

‘My map,’ Buggy musters, voice weak, though his eyes light up disturbingly, grin growing slowly, the same time as Luffy splays out his hand, groaning. ‘My hat.’

‘Yeah, I do. Who’s greenie?’ you answer, nodding your chin at the swordsman approaching the harlequin menacingly, before slashing at him in clean strikes with two swords drawn. It’s to no avail, as he uses his obvious devil fruit to divide himself into pieces, to predict and dodge every slash. ‘Zoro, he’s harmless,’ she murmurs, dripping sarcasm, lifting a hand to gesture for you to follow her as her eyes betray her remaining scepticism towards you, leading you slowly behind the swordsman. Ah, Zoro.

‘Surprise, shithead!’ the clown cackles psychotically when he starts detaching and propelling his appendages around till all that remains upright is his head, as the both of you flank either side of Zoro. Your brows furrow, nauseated at the display as your eyes follow his head, shifting to stand with your back to the both of your temporary allies, a rough triangular defence. You push your sword out to cut into fast-coming blows, redirecting them away from you. 

‘How am I s’pposed to slice a guy who’s already in pieces?’ Zoro comments, you presume to Nami, as the three of you shuffle around in slow circles, trying to keep up with his spinning. ‘This was not part of the plan!’ she calls back, exasperated as the three of you branch out to attack a body part each. 

‘You had a plan?’ you call back, slashing at what looks like a chunk of his torso, receiving a grunt in response from Zoro. Clearly, the two of you are not doing any damage, most done probably by Nami and her staff, striking each part flying around with blunt force. You switch your method to pummel his body with the hilts of your swords, knocking them away. Your stomach lurches when the fleshy (gross) missiles change their focus from being some kind of disturbing display of power, to targeting the three of you individually. 

You draw your second blade, deflecting the foot that comes flying to kick at your chest with unexpected potency, caught off-guard at the impact. You let out a strangled heave when a hand swerves past your crossed swords, clasping tightly around your neck to choke you for a minute, your swords carefully slashing at his wrist as much as you could manage without hurting yourself. He uses the sudden upper-hand to push you back, feet dragging, to throw you harshly onto the ground at the feet of the manacled audience, who gasp loudly, whatever breath remained in your lungs knocked out of you at the impetus. Your mask shatters, cracked fragments lying beside your face, ribbon torn. 

Zoro and Nami are no better – as he’s pushed, toppling over the tank that shatters with his fall, and she’s shoved tripping over a low stage stool, tumbling onto her back. 

You watch in horror, a hand dropping your sword to grasp at your throat, inhaling copious amounts of air, as his body reattaches itself, hovering in front of Luffy, before touching down onto his feet. 

‘Would you look at that?’ he asks, voice feigning playfulness, not bothering to disguise the scorn beneath. Luffy, holding his hat to his chest, getting up slowly with his back against the wooden pole at the edge of the stage, straightening himself. 

‘Somebody escaped my Tank of Doom,’ he continues, a single finger raised drawing circles in the air, taunting. ‘Well I’ll be back to finish you off–,’ his voice quietens before raising to a gruff yell, ‘–right after I tear apart your sorry excuse of a crew!’ He breaks into another peal of guffaws, with a horror befitting for a clown of his stature. 

You exhale sharply, grabbing your sword again and using it to stab into the sandy grounds, rising to your feet before placing your viridian hilted sword back in its sheath. You hold a hand out to Nami, sensing Zoro getting to his feet in your peripheral. She takes your hand, grasp warm, righting herself.

‘You can dump seawater on me–,’ your eyes shoot up as Luffy responds for the first time since this freakish battle had begun. ‘–and I’ll let it slide,’ he starts, pressing his hat back onto the crown of his head, before stepping forward, voice dipping into ire. ‘But don’t you ever threaten my friends.’ He rolls back his shoulder, palm pressed to it, preparing to punch as his arm stretches back for a few metres, before launching forward to slam into Buggy’s abdomen. A cylindrical, punch shaped piece flies out with the impact, and back into his stomach. You try not to gag at the absurd array. 

He winks at Luffy, before producing a set of eight knives, four on each hand, his tone a low whisper. ‘So you wish to die first?’ he hums. ‘Be my guest.’ 

He detaches his body with sickening pops before spinning them again like earlier, the blades adding more possibility of harm this time, bellowing, ‘Chop Chop, Cannon.’ 

All the parts go flying at Luffy as he vaults and catapults himself over all of them, avoiding the knives. He manages to tackle the clown to the floor, grappling for a moment until a fist comes flying at Luffy’s side. When he gets to his feet, another fisted dagger slices the hat right off his head and pins it onto the wood. As it drops, he runs to it but is tripped and pushed by multiple limbs, until a hand comes to choke him as Buggy chortles, much like you earlier. 

‘Nami,’ he croaks, stifled. ‘The crates!’

You run into the melee, ripping the fist off his neck and throwing it to her, as she bats it into a case, closing shut. 

Luffy looks up at his saviour, to him an unfamiliar addition to the fight, before you turn to him to help him up. His gaze falls to the sword at your hip, eyes widening in recognition at the hilt, the guard. Specifically, an almost exact replica of Shanks’ hilt and crossguard. The one given to…

‘Hikari?’ he asks loudly, surprise and disbelief a beaming mixture in his voice, knocking a stray limb in Nami’s direction so she can throw it into a chest. A smile stretches across his lips contagiously, and you can't help but smile gently with him, your heart warm with nostalgia at the familiar grin that was so very Luffy, before kicking a stray leg to Zoro, who stabs his swords through it to pin it to the ground as Buggy howls in pain. ‘Its [name] actually,’ you hum, twisting to continue the fight. He whoops in reply, the thrill at your arrival evident in his invigorated attacks, joy radiating off him in waves. You chuckle to yourself, he hasn't changed one bit. 

The four of you together knock as many parts of him that you can manage into crates, boxes and barrels, until all that’s left of him is a pair of hands and feet, and his head. Luffy gently picks his hat off the ground, holding it to his chest. 

‘What’ve you done to me?’ Buggy screeches, voice broken and grating to your ears. The curly haired boy simply grins in response. ‘Cut you down to size.’ 

‘The One Piece will never be yours! You’re just a sad–,’ the pathetic clown curls his hands into fists, searching for words ‘–lonely little boy wearing another man’s hat!’ 

Luffy doesn’t look at him, staring down at his hat intently, a small smile on his lips. ‘I know exactly who I am.’ He places his hat back onto his head, before beaming, eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘I’m Monkey D. Luffy! And I’m gonna be the King of the Pirates.’ He settles into a crouched stance, throwing both arms behind him. ‘Gum Gum,’ he starts, as Buggy begins to frantically protest. ‘–Bazooka!’ His hands come stretched forward like a slingshot, wrists pressed together as they launch Buggy through the top of the tent, far into the stratosphere. 

He walks to where the map lies, picking it up before approaching the three of you. He hands the map to Nami as you adjust your swords and sheath them, picking your dagger up off the ground and placing it in the guard on your forearm. 

‘You’re giving this to me?’ her voice coloured in disbelief. Pulling the remaining ties of your mask from behind your ear, you raise a brow – her words presumably about something that happened before you arrived. You’re going to have to get a new one.  ‘You’re the navigator,’ he smiles. ‘Guys, this is [name]! Previously Hikari and one of my best friends!’ he gestures at you, hand spread in a showy fashion. You lift your own in a still wave as a greeting. 

Nami offers you a short smile, and your eyes shift to the man beside her, who nods at you. ‘’M Roronoa Zoro. You fight good,’ he acknowledges, prompting a small, amused uptick of your lips. So he does speak beyond primitive grunts and groans. ‘Thanks, you too.’ 

‘Let’s get out of this clown show,’ Zoro turns to leave, before Luffy stops him with a hand on his shoulder. ‘Not yet. Still one more thing we have to do.’ He lets go of his shoulder, smacking it in friendly camaraderie with a grin. 

The spotlights come back on when Luffy pulls one of the pins holding the villagers’ manacles in place. The four of you make an effort to pull the chains as gently but quickly as possible, and you’re in front of Zoro when an old white-haired man questions Luffy. ‘Are you our new captors?’ the man asks, clearly expecting the worst. Luffy looks confused, stopping his movements as he leans back onto his haunches, ‘What?’ 

‘Well, you’re pirates aren’t you?’ 

‘I’m a different kind of pirate,’ he declares, rising to his feet with a grin. You smile to yourself at his reply, looking up at the man across from you. He shakes his head, hiding a smirk of his own as he looks away. 

While you all make preparations to leave the island, you stop to speak to the villagers who come rushing to offer rations and supplies for your travels. The old man, who you learn is the mayor of Orange Town, Boodle, asks for a moment with you. 

‘I’ve heard of you, and seen your bounty poster on the notice board. I thought you were a pirate,’ he says, voice marvelled. You chuckle, patting his hand. ‘Fighting corrupt Marines earns you a wanted poster with your name on it, of course. I’m not a pirate yet, but the bounty increases the more dishonourable officers I take down,’ your expression lights up in memory. 

‘Right. Speaking of bounties,’ you reach into your duffel, a jute sack carrying one million berry from your last hunt. ‘Take this. For reparations and any other expenses to get your town back on its feet–,’ ‘–I cannot possibly accept this,’ he flounders, eyes wide at the bulging bag. 

You press the bag into his grasp, nodding with conviction. ‘Please do. I understand it may be difficult to accept, but as mayor, consider this an investment to the priority and welfare of your townspeople.’ 

He takes the bag, hesitant, before gripping your hand gently in gratitude. ‘Your kindness, and your crew’s, will remain in the memory of our town timelessly.’ You laugh at his determined statement, and go to correct him but you’re interrupted by the yipping of a small dog, pawing at your legs.

‘Chou Chou, no!’ A small girl comes running, scooping the pup into her arms. ‘I’m so sorry, he’s excited around new people.’ You reach out to ruffle her hair, then the dog’s back. ‘It’s alright. Chou Chou, you said?’ 

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to look at the holder. Luffy smiles at you warmly, before his grip drops to your hand, pulling you aside, before tugging you into his arms. ‘I missed you,’ he mutters into your shirt, before looking up at you. ‘Of course you’re as kind as I remember,’ he says, smile proud as he holds onto your arms. You mess up his curls, eyes pushing into crescents. ‘Missed you too, kid,’ you grin, before wrestling him into a headlock. ‘You forget who’s older?’

He barks out a laugh, tapping out on your forearm, before facing you again. 

‘Join my crew,’ he says, voice shakily conveying calm, making a clear effort to not force you into something no matter how dearly he wants it.

‘When I finally become a pirate, I want you to be my quartermaster, so you’ll be by my side when I become King of the Pirates! That spot is for you, and mine as captain! And–,’ you interrupted the shorter boy with a giggle as he scowled at your teasing interruption. ‘That’s a funny word. Qua-ter-master. Who taught you that?’

‘Shanks did,’ he huffs indignantly. He shoves his hand at you, pinky outstretched. ‘So?’ 

‘Fine, I'll be your quartermaster, whatever that means. Promise,’ you concede, linking your finger with his. 

‘I believe I do have a promise to fulfil–,’ you glance away, fighting back a smile, squinting in the sunlight before looking back at him,‘–Captain.’ He shakes you by the shoulders, beaming like the sun behind him as you let out the laughs you’d been holding in, Luffy babbling loudly in joy about how ‘’You remembered!” and how he could count on you before he pulls you in for another bone crushing  hug. 

He calms down, if only slightly, to stare right into your eyes. ‘What is your dream?’ You shrug noncommittally, ‘I kind of already am well on my way to accomplishing that goal, by taking down terrible pirates and deplorable Marines myself. The dream is a world where their wrongdoing is no longer rampant,’ you slow, feeling the words in your mouth, a smile tugging at your lips, ‘–and I think being on the crew of the future King of the Pirates will get me there, don’t you think?’ 

His eyes light up, glinting in pride. ‘I will never let anything get in the way of your dream, and I will help you achieve it,’ he promises, offering his pinky much like he had years ago. ‘–as long as you do the same for me.’ 

You grin a half-smile, linking your fingers and shaking them once firmly. ‘Promise.’ 

Nodding at your small sloop, Zoro comes to stand behind Luffy just as you ask the boy, ‘Help me get my stuff?’ 

The tall man, who seems to be all brawn and no brain, grunts in response before walking to your boat, and you follow after him, amused. 

You lean forward to take some of the multiple bags of your supplies, food and water, but he doesn’t let you – he’s carried all of them over his shoulder and in both his hands before you can reach to hold them. 

‘I can–,’ ‘–t’s fine,’ he leans away from the hand you’ve put out to share some of the weight of your belongings, his voice low with exertion. You raise a shoulder in a shrug, leaving him to it. 

You push the boat far into the sandy shore, watching as the children and the puppy from earlier adorably run onto it immediately to play.

Boodle approaches the four of you this time, holding out a crate of as many scraps they managed to find after their plunder. ‘It’s not much, but take this…as a token of our gratitude,’ he holds it out to Luffy, who shakes his head gently, pushing it back to the old man. ‘You need it more than we do.’ With a firm nod, he bids them goodbye as the four of you walk out the small wooden dock to the boat.

You jump onto the deck of their ship, glancing at the book of maps lying near the helm, helping Nami untie the anchoring knots. She seems to be the evasive, cunning type, suspicious and wary of new people. You had a feeling Luffy only just got to know her, and earned most of her trust when he handed her that map. 

Wondering where the two men were, you turn to twist the other rope when you catch sight of Luffy jogging back down to where the mayor still stands with the tray, reaching for a piece of bread. ‘Maybe just a snack,’ he takes a big bite, before holding the rest in his mouth, waving as he runs back to the craft, Zoro in tow. You let out a sharp exhale, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. Same old.

The people wave, echoing ‘thank you’s and ‘goodbyes’ as you raise the sails, setting off. 

No matter how long you’d spent on the sea, nothing satisfies you more than the resounding whip of the sails catching the winds, pulling you further into the arms of the deep oceans, the salty spray trickling onto your arms like dewdrops. 

You lean against the wall beside Zoro, sat upright and getting some shut-eye, watching as Nami carefully stitches up Luffy’s precious hat and hands it back to him when he thanks her for fixing it. 

‘You said it was your treasure, right?’ she smiles at him, before getting up and walking to you. 

‘Pardon me if I’m wrong,’ you start, cocking a brow, ‘–but were you the ones who successfully pulled the rug from under Axe-Hand’s feet back in Shells Town?’ 

Nami pats the heavy safe beside her, smirking derisively before walking past you into the galley. ‘Stolen right from his office. It’s where we got the map.’ You look down to your side when the man you’d assumed to be asleep speaks. 

‘Is every day gonna be this crazy with you?’ he mutters, gruff with drowsiness. Luffy places his hat on the crown of his head, turning to face his crew with a smile. 

‘Shanks always said,’ he begins slowly, and you tilt your head, ‘–that if the path to what you want seems too easy…then you’re on the wrong path,’ he finishes, and you stare down at your feet, mind fond of the memory. Zoro squints, mulling over the words while looking out to the sea. ‘This Shanks guy seems alright,’ he says. You huff out a chuckle, and his head turns to look at you. 

Warm eyes, you think again, when he’s not in battle. The setting sun casts a glow against the high of his cheekbones, dipping into shadows at the sharp curve of his jaw. Unsafe thoughts, you slap yourself to your senses. ‘Next stop, the Grand Line!’ Luffy declares, pointing out to sea, bringing your thoughts to a halt. 

Settling down into the space beside Zoro, you open the heavy safe, pulling out and reading through the case files that you needed, beneath a bounty poster of Kuroo of the Black Cat Pirates. 

Flipping through the pages upon pages listing the pirate’s crimes, you speak offhandedly to the man beside you. ‘If you’re Roronoa Zoro,’ you nod towards the white-hilted sword leaning against the wall, ‘–that must be the famed Wado Ichimonji, isn’t it?’ 

His eyes snap open, turning to you. ‘How do you–,’ ‘I, too, trained at Shimotsuki Village,’ you face him, expression vacant. ‘Granted, the Wado on its own is a legendary sword, a prized heirloom of Shimotsuki Kozaburo, who forged it,’ you hum, glancing down, running a palm over the scabbard of your own sword, ‘–handed down to Shimotsuki Koushiro, who gave it to his daughter Kuina,’ you look up at him again, levelling him with a knowing stare from where he’s leaning away from you slightly, eyes narrowing a fraction. ‘It was then handed to you. Roronoa Zoro. I presume you protect it with your life.’ 

‘Who are you?’ he prods, sitting upright again, straightening his shoulders to feign confidence – distrust. You meet him head on, self-assured to return the qualm, ‘I’m [name],’ you introduce yourself for the second time, ‘–otherwise Hikari, former shinobi and scholar of the Shimotsuki region.’ 

‘How come I never met you?’ he asks, tone wary. ‘You have. Every student in the village knew you, Zoro,’ your lips uptick faintly. ‘You just didn’t know them, engrossed in your tunnelled dream, working towards it with the only other student who was above your raw prowess. It was admirable, and it’s partly why I took up a second sword. It’s funny we ended up on the same ship,’ you reply, lifting the scabbards at your side. 

He regards you, considering, as you turn back to the folder in your lap. ‘You have a story,’ he decides finally, the words more of a statement than a question as he rests back onto the wall, closing his eyes once more. ‘About as much as the next person,’ you answer, peeking up from the pages to watch him once more, chest falling and rising with his shallow, controlled breaths. 

You sit in charged, slowly tranquil silence beside the napping swordsman, engrossed in the inconsistencies of the arrest warrant and report. Your eyes begin to droop as you close the file shut, gazing out at the endless horizon, sunset meeting twilight, and succumb to the greedy claws of sleep. 

Morning come, you’re dressed and clean, slotting the case file and bounty poster into the pockets of your duffel. You sit cross legged on the deck beside Luffy, watching him work on what looks like a skull and crossbones with a straw hat as he regales the story of what went down in Shells Town. You don’t have the heart to tell him the lines of teeth (?) are wonky, lips pressed together to hold back a giggle. A passion project, you suppose. ‘D’you like it?’ he looks to you for approval, beaming when you nod at him, smiling shakily. He remains none the wiser, turning to the girl at the bow, pushing up her glasses as she runs a hand across the coveted map to the Grand Line. 

‘Hey, Nami. Nami!’ he calls, and she looks up at him, her focus skewed. ‘What.’ she deadpans, annoyance creeping into her voice at being disrupted. He grins, clumsily bending to pick up the large fabric. ‘It’s ready!’ 

‘And what is…it?’ she asks, nonplussed, and you close your eyes, lips pursed, reaching for inner peace. ‘Our Jolly Roger! Every pirate crew has to have one, and now we do!’ You whoop weakly in support, fist raised. ‘We are not a crew, and you are most definitely not hanging that on my boat.’ His smile wavers, and you pat his back in comfort. The door to the galley opens, and he perks up again. 

‘Hey Zoro! Check it out,’ he displays it, much like how a kid seeks approval on an art project. Zoro takes in the Roger, before looking back up at Luffy. ‘That’s unique,’ he mutters, walking to the port rail, at which you can’t help but snicker.   

‘Nami I think the toilet’s broken,’ he tells her, before glancing at you, head cocked at your laughter. You shrug mirthfully, turning to Nami when she responds, and your cheery expression melts. 'We don't have a toilet.’

‘Oh.’ He looks away from both your probing stares, bobbing his chin at the door. ‘Well something back there’s leaking.’ 

Nami curses in alarm, storming into the galley as you scrunch your nose in disgust at him. ‘Gross.’ ‘What?’

She stomps back out, finger pointed at him. ‘We’re taking in water. What did you do?’

‘I didn’t do anything,’ he quips, face twisting petulantly. ‘With how you’re always clanging your swords around all the time, you must’ve broken something!’ she exclaims gesturing at his swords, and you step back, hands subconsciously pressing your sword guard closer to your hip. 

‘If you’re such a good thief then maybe you should’ve stolen a better boat,’ he shoots back, words scathing. 

Luffy steps in before the fight can escalate, calling for a crew meeting, and stand beside him wordlessly as the others chorus “not a crew.’’ You observe the tension between the two as he talks about getting a new ship, fit for the Grand Line  – they’ve met only recently before being put into the small confines of her boat, from what Luffy told you, both aiming for different targets, iffy and apprehensive around the other. 

The group suddenly goes silent, looking to you for your opinion. You’d kept your ears open, despite not participating in the discussion, thank seas, pertaining to the name of the crew. ‘The Gecko Islands are pretty safe, and their port town Syrup Village is well known for their shipbuilding – it's quiet and relatively free of pirates. We could go there?’ you nod slowly, offering information from what you’ve learnt on your travels. 

‘Perfect! Great job, quartermaster and navigator,’ he smiles at you, before pointedly nodding at Nami, who sighs heavily.

‘You’re still not hanging that on my ship.’ 

kryscent '24 do not repost or translate without credits | likes or reblogs are much appreciated <3

animated dividers by @cafekitsune

[mimisplayground]

Traveling Buddies ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ (Vash x fem reader)

Warnings: Monsterfucking :3, inhuman vash, loving sex ngl like making love…, biting (briefly), NOT MUCH ITS A SOFT ONE LET ME KNOW IF U WANT A ROUGH VER :3, made with 1998 vash in mind but really can be read as either!!

—————

Going along with Vash after that one night. You never brought up how inhuman he looked that night, and you felt he almost appreciated it. When all was said and done you were laid out next him, panting like a dog.

When your vision had cleared, the man laying next to you was the same he looked when he brought you to this rundown inn. The next morning when you woke up, you stared wide eyed as you watched him pack his own stuff and yours as well.

You maybe vaguely remember a conversation along the lines of “wanna follow you everywhere Mayfly, wanna bring you with me” as he pounded you so hard you were walking with a limp.

And then next you knew you were out in the deserts of No Man’s Land, riding along with Vash and digging through a sack to give him a donut as he rode. Looking off into the distance as you continue along the path set by Vash. He seemed to know where he was going. On the breaks where you would stretch your legs and drink water in the heat were marked with a soft peck on the lips from Vash. Sharing the canister of water and a small meal that wasn’t very good. The end of the break was always signified with a deeper kiss from Vash where you felt a familiar inhuman rumble deep from his chest.

Coming to the next town was a multiple day venture, leaving you tired and worn out. Sighing in relief when you were able to eat a full meal and wash up.

Settling into the inn’s bed and ignoring the kisses you feel at your neck for a moment before eventually allowing Vash to move his kisses down to your chest. Letting him suck at your nipples as he purrs softly.

He was more open with his inhuman nature this time. Glowing before your eyes get blurry. Working you open on his fingers and letting you see his cock, that seemed to sprout from a…flower of sorts? You couldn’t bring yourself to think about that much. Watching as a tapered and ridged, and almost bioluminescent blue, entered you slowly. Listening to Vash whine in a double toned vocal. You finally get to see the exact ridge that rubs against your clit on his harsher thrusts.

Feathered wings encapsulate you both, leaving you unable to see other than the faintest glow from inside of you where you are both connected and the glow from Vash and his skin all over.

“Mayfly…” Vash groans in your ear “love you, need you so bad. Gonna make me a good man…” He sighs, loud clicks coming from him that you can now identify as a sound of pleasure. He wasnt human, there was no way you were making things up in your head.

He was too fast with his thrusts, bumps that you can feel the whole time as your thighs tighten around him and you claw the only human flesh you feel on his shoulder as you silently scream. Vash rubbing small circles on your clit as you come undone with him, listening to the trill and buzz that comes from him take over your mind again like nights prior. Whining when his teeth sink into your shoulder possessively.

Laying with him and his unusually cold body, wings craddling you both in tight together as clawed fingers run up and down your side. Humming and purring like an engine as he traces your face and leaves kisses all over you.

[gwaynewantstofuckcriston]

I owe you - Criston Cole x Gwayne Hightower

Explicit, mlm, oral sex, angst, set after 2x03, enemies to lovers, fast burn, open ending.

Criston yanked off his armor, the squire attending him. He was pissed. Beyond pissed. Alicent had sent him her uppity green boy of a brother to babysit him. It wounded him, down deep. He was already stressed beyond relief, and Aegon impulsively appointed Criston as hand. Just the icing on the lemon cake. He sent his squire off with an aggravated hand.

Gwayne was quiet since they’d hidden in the woods, their encampment having to hide under the cover of night, almost getting burnt by Daemon’s spawn on a dragon. The fool was going to a fucking inn. An inn for fucks sake, was he daft or just that self-absorbed?

The beleaguered man couldn’t bring himself to be that angry at Alicent, her control was slipping more and more every day. He thumbed her favor, inhaling it before tucking it away. Criston’s dark eyes cast to his sullied cloak, lips turning down. His thoughts were dark, swirling, and hard to define. It made him angry, full of rage.

Must he be so weak of heart all the time? Failing his duties yet getting promoted to a position he couldn’t possibly execute, but he took it, Criston always took it from the crown he served. His leg was tapping restlessly, hands clenching and unclenching.

Perhaps Alicent was right. They were cursed and doomed. What even was honor or duty these days? He took off his undershirt and pants, washing himself with the small basin of water they collected. No amount of water or scrubbing would scrape the filth from his body.

Common, half-dornish, impulsive, lustful filth.

A ruffling of his tent flaps alarmed him, glaring at the sound, brows furrowed. He called out, “Who the fuck is it? I’m not on watch yet.”

A voice replied, the irritating lofty accent of the Hightower fucker. “I’m merely trying to talk, may I enter?” Criston tugged on his breeches, frowning heavily. He growled, “Come in then.”

Gwayne’s light reddish hair entered, his haughty blue eyes gazing at Criston. He looked like Otto in a way, smug looks and smirks. The Marcher grimaced, demanding, “What? I’m trying to get some rest.”

The lordling gave him a look, eyes looking through him, that same smile he bestowed back in King’s Landing. Like he wanted to eat Criston alive…before flipping on a coin to lob insults. He demanded again, voice lowering, “I asked you a question, Ser. What do you need?”

Gwayne’s smirk faltered, his eyes turning downwards. He murmured, “I came to thank you. For saving my ass. I’d seen my nephew's dragon, but never one trying to kill me.” Criston scoffed, “Be prepared for more.” He paused, leveling the younger knight with a look, “You’re quite green aren’t you? Never seen a battle, flouncing around tourneys. Left alone from your father.”

Gwayne’s fairer skin blushed as he protested, “I’m finely trained, I just didn’t expect that. I’m trying to thank you, not argue!” He frowned, eyes gaining that piercing nature of Alicent. Criston stepped forward, sizing up the slim frame of the man.

Hightower as they come, willowy and graceful. Criston could easily take him down.

He laughed bitterly, “You know nothing of spilling blood. I’ve fought in battles before you touched live steel. Fighting off the Dornish.” Gwayne was a little shorter than Criston, swallowing audibly, blue eyes flickering. He couldn’t focus, eyes darting to the older man’s face and bare chest.

“Where’s my apology then, Hightower? So far you’ve come in and stammered, Alicent has more gall than you.”

Gwayne frowned, eyes narrowing as he slowly stated, “I apologize for suggesting such a foolish thing, leaving us exposed. I owe you a debt, Lord Commander.” Criston gripped his shoulder, smirking, “You’d be best to listen if you wish to keep your pretty face.”

The redhead inhaled sharply, pupils expanding. He breathed, “I see how you’ve bewitched my sister.” Criston raised a brow, gripping harder, “Mind yourself.” Gwayne shivered, mouth falling open, his pink lips wet.

Why did he want to force this pretty boy down? Criston was depraved enough. He shoved down his guilt over Alicent, did she even care? He didn’t know.

His breath deepened, studying the lordling. Gwayne stammered, “I can repay the debt some more, let me, you’re so damn tense.” Cole cocked his head, voice darkening, “How will you do that, Hightower? Rub my shoulders? You’re starting to make me think you frequented those pillow houses for men in Oldtown.”

Gwayne inhaled sharply, placing a calloused hand on Criston’s chest, thumbing his gold necklace, cheeks darkening by the second. He made a soft sound as a tan hand slid to the side of his pulsing throat, thumb swiping up and down his rapid pulse point.

“I- I’ll show you things I know sister dearest doesn’t allow. Keeps you on a tight leash doesn’t she,” Gwayne rasped, desperation lacing his voice. He was panting, licking his lips.

“Don’t speak of her grace, she’s not depraved. Fine, show your skills.”

Criston yanked Gwayne by his silly doublet, shoving his lips against the lordling. He growled into the kiss, seeking that dominance he’d been denied. The redhead moaned, sweeter than he’d expected, arching into Criston’s touch.

It felt different, soft lips and tongues, lacking the plushness of the woman Criston had kissed. Gwayne was eager- hands running through Criston’s chest hair and firm pecs. He let Criston lap and bruisingly kiss him, making more soft moans.

He pulled back to ask, “Do you always moan like a whore?”

“Do you always kiss men like you’re starving for it?”

Criston jerked Gwayne’s head back by his hair, biting and kissing at pale, smooth skin. The lordling whined, hands digging into Criston’s waist. He panted, “Want to suck your cock, let me, let me, when’s the last time you had that? You act like you need to fucking cum.”

Criston smirked at the desperate begging, steady hands unbuttoning that doublet, commenting, “You wore this to a battle. Mayhaps you’d be better as my slut in the tent.” He rumbled with dark laughter as Gwayne gasped, heaving with arousal. His pretty pale chest and slim hips were revealed, flushed too.

Gwayne shrugged it off, falling to his knees as Criston backed onto his cot, thickened thighs spread wide, his swollen cock protruding through the pale fabric. Criston watched him with a pensive expression, eyes lingering on swollen lips and the pretty boy’s deft hands, long elegant fingers undoing his pants.

Gwayne mumbled, “Fuck- can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re inside my damn sister on the daily. But she’s not here is she?” Criston felt guilt, growling, “Get to it, I’d rather not dwell on that.” His hand thumbed at Gwayne’s lips, sliding a thick thumb across his wet lips.

Criston hissed as he was eased out of his breeches, throbbing prick thick and heavy. He knew he was a mouthful, long ago before he was bedding prim nobles. Gwayne wanted it, drooling spit on the tip of Criston’s dark cock.

He spat into his lithe hand, wrapping it around the girth, lashes fluttering as he blabbed, “You’re a thick one.” Criston breathed through his nose, shuddering when a hot, wet mouth enveloped his recently neglected prick. He let his head fall back, moaning lowly, hand gripping reddish waves.

The younger Hightower was eager, hollowing his cheeks and bobbing eagerly, hand moving in tandem as he sloppily drooled more. Criston shivered again, tightening his grip, moaning again. Fuck this was delicious. Bastard had a mouth on him.

Gwayne slipped his other hand down to the cup and squeezed gently at his sack, a thumb sliding across the seam, Criston gasping in surprise. The lordling smirked, flicking his tongue playfully, pulling the skin back as he lathered attention on the cockhead.

“Ahh- fuck- you’re wicked,” Criston breathed, pathetically trying to control his voice, finding it to pitch up as his ecstasy increased. His thighs were twitching, belly tight. Gwayne merely moaned like a slut, the vibrations sending the older knight reeling again. Gwayne’s blue eyes watched him, teary and pretty, lashes wet and clumped.

He swallowed down more of Criston’s cock, slick, slick drool sliding down to coat his sensitive balls. Gwayne merely thumbed and rubbed gently, Criston losing his edge, scrunching his face closed, mouth wide open.

He leaned back, overwhelmed, elbows feebly keeping the marcher upright as his current nuisance was eagerly shoving cock down his throat and whining like he was going to come. Criston’s back was arching as he panted, moans slipping from his wet lips.

He wanted to kiss more and was already thinking of fucking the pretty slip between his thighs into the ground.

“I- I’m close, Gwayne I’m close,” he warned, voice tight and eyes watering, hand pulling some.

The redhead eyed him again, eyes conveying for Criston to shut up. He sped his movement up, the noises obscene. Choked whimpering spilled from Gwayne’s stretched lips. His throat was wet and tight, flexing and swallowing. The lithe hand caressing Criston’s balls shifted, two of his long fingers sliding back.

The marcher looked at him wildly, Gwayne shaking his head, raising a brow. That little fox was NOT getting his hand near his ass. Maybe. Criston eased back, huffing again as his body was trembling, muscles drawing tight as ecstasy flowed through his tired body.

Curious fingers pressed upwards, into the soft spot behind his sack. Criston seized with a grunt, biting his lip as he swallowed down a pathetic noise, tiny whines leaving his lips. It was emasculating at how he was reduced to feminine trembling and spread thighs, the orgasm forcing him into submission. He pumped his thick load down the man’s throat, Gwayne swallowing eagerly, greedy with it.

He lathered attention until the marcher gasped, “Ah, no more, you’ve paid your debt, gods.”

Gwayne pulled off with a wet pop, grinning with swollen wet lips, lapping some spit from the corner of his mouth. He moaned, “Cat’s out the bag I guess, I like sucking cock. I like sucking yours, Lord Commander.” He patted Criston’s thigh, smug with his talented efforts.

The Lord Commander was exhausted, eyes lidded as he regarded Gwayne. He yawned, “Quite the cocksucker, with and without one in your mouth. What was that shite you pulled on me at the end?”

Gwayne leaned forward placing his arms on the older man’s legs. He smirked, haughtily humming, “Such a pity. Stuck to doing whatever your master tells you. It’s a good spot in your ass, makes a man twice your size squeal like a maiden.”

“Now, does Otto know your predilections?”

Gwayne shrugged, “He was away, focused on my sister getting on the rotted King’s lap. I grew up without stress or constant eyes, doing as I pleased. You’d benefit. Already more relaxed out here. Besides dragons and a war.”

Criston felt his chest tighten at the hard truth. The Red Keep was a prison, coated in gleaming paint. He grumbled, “You come?” Criston felt lethargic, lazily beckoning the knight.

“No, was pretty close,” he breathlessly laughed.

Gwayne crawled upwards, Criston watching him with a strange expression as the younger sat atop his thighs. Gwayne remained silent for once, blue meeting black. His hand slowly pulled at the strings on his breeches, waiting for a rebuttal.

“Don’t come on me. Take care of yourself, too pretty not to watch.”

Gwayne retorted, “Pull my cock or finger myself, my lord?” He grinned at the aghast look on Criston’s face, eyes wide, brows firmly set in surprise. He stammered, “I- just do what you want, make it quick.”

The lordling searched around, looking for some sort of grease or oil. He found a small jar of scented oil, raising a brow, teasing, “Did you nick this off my sister?” Criston smacked his thigh, frowning.

Gwayne poured a bit into his hand, setting the little jar back down. He slathered his pink cock, already ruddy and flushed from arousal, lips lax at the pleasure. Criston nipped his lip, taking in the sight. He growled, “Be a bit quieter, will you?”

Gwayne nodded, fisting himself rapidly, breath coming fast and hard. He whimpered softly, squirming as his hand teased the underside of the tip. The Hightower lad’s other hand slid back, massaging that spot he spoke of, lashes fluttering as he moaned helplessly, sweating.

The marcher couldn’t help but be enamored. Those damn siblings would kill him. Kill him. If the war didn’t first. He placed a hand on Gwayne’s slim thigh, gripping the meager flesh on the inside.

“Fuck- please- good,” Hightower panted.

Criston gripped his slim hip, eyes boring into blue, murmuring, “You’re shameless.”

Gwayne frantically looked for his tunic, grabbing it as he whimpered and shook, riding his fingers instead of working his cock before covering his prick with green. Criston smirked, the knight falling apart, thin chest heaving as he whimpered, shaking from head to toe as he emptied into the tunic.

The younger fell to his side, panting as he rolled on his back, Criston smirking, pleased with the submissive nature of Gwayne. He looked over, rumbling, “Consider this debt nonsense over. I’m expecting I’ll save your ass soon.”

Gwayne laughed breathlessly, eyes warm. He replied, “Eh, you’ll be seeking me out. Let me gather myself for a moment, don’t want to look too much of a mess.” He snorted, eyes on his soiled tunic.

Criston felt too tired to kick out the lad, eyes closing. He hummed, “Sure. Let me sleep and be gone in the morn, we have more to travel before sunrise.” He shoved the smaller man aside, rolling onto his side. The redhead smirked, moving over, stretching in satisfaction.