Because Zoro's My One Piece Man-Whore...
Nov. 11th, 2005 06:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsSo...short little bits in honor of Zoro's birthday with perhaps a longer thing to finish it all off. Here's 3 to start with, all untitled.
With: Usopp
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1352
It wasn’t easy, Usopp had thought, to find a present for the man who would someday soon become the world’s greatest swordsman. All of his other shipmates were so easy to handle on their birthdays. Chopper and Robin both received books, Nami too unless he happened to uncover some kind of treasure or a new map. Sanji always got either a tie or a cookbook or some kind of new pot or pan. And Luffy was easiest of all. Usopp just drew him a picture or blew something up and the captain was more than pleased. Zoro, however, was difficult.
The swordsman didn’t seem to have much use for reading, and what he did read were strange manuals on technique or meditation that were harder to come by than Usopp had expected. Zoro didn’t cook or make maps or need tools for medicine or archaeology. Somehow, too, the sharpshooter expected that the same sentimentality that worked on Luffy wouldn’t on the swordsman. The green-haired man did appreciate wanton destruction, but the fireworks that Usopp always used for the captain were a bit too tame for his tastes. All he seemed to be left with was the swords and Zoro’s exercise equipment.
In times past, such as for the winter holiday and the summer solstice, Usopp had been content with that. He’d gotten Zoro a new puffball cleaner for his blades the one time and had gone in with Luffy and Chopper to purchase the substantial iron weights that the swordsman had needed to increase his training regimen. This time, though, things were different. Firstly, Usopp felt he’d already exhausted his two obvious gift-giving options. Secondly, and more importantly, now he was, well, and he blushed at the thought, with Zoro. It seemed to him that his present should have more meaning, be more special somehow.
He had fretted about it for days, agonizing in the privacy of the crow’s nest when he had night watch and talking to himself during the day as he tinkered with various inventions. Briefly he had toyed with making Zoro some kind of machine that could help him with his exercises, but he knew the swordsman had a very particular way of training that it wouldn’t be smart for him to interfere with. Also, many of his inventions had a tendency to blow up if they were placed under strain and Zoro’s stamina meant that strain was very likely.
In desperation he had even asked his nakama for ideas. Of course it was the love cook who had provided him with the idea that now filled his mind. Even though he was with Zoro, they had never gone beyond the kissing and blushing-when-their-fingers-happened-to-brush-against-each-other stage. Sanji had proposed that Usopp offer, well, himself to the swordsman as his present. It was certainly not without merit, and the closer the day of Zoro’s birth came, the more appealing it seemed, if only because Usopp had failed to think of anything else remotely suitable. But the concept, as good as it was, made him nervous. They had never gotten beyond their current stage because Usopp knew he wasn’t ready and, hell, considering that Zoro had never pushed, perhaps the swordsman wasn’t either.
So, instead of worrying himself into a frenzy over what to get Zoro, now Usopp had worked himself up over the idea of giving himself to the swordsman. In a clear fit of exasperation (probably due to his nervous habit of needing to hammer things when he was stressed) Nami had finally advised him to just ASK Zoro what he wanted and stop causing himself and the rest of the crew so much trouble. It was a wise piece of advice, but not something that Usopp, even as the swordsman’s boyfriend, found easy to carry out. After all, the subject of sex had never been broached between them, and it felt weird to the sharpshooter to have to ask someone who was supposed to be very important to him what he wanted for his birthday. Usopp felt like he should just KNOW. But he didn’t and Nami was right about him slowly going crazy from lack of knowledge.
Two days before the special day, Usopp had finally worked up his courage. Zoro was lying on the deck, his eyes closed and his breathing even, but the sharpshooter could tell that the swordsman wasn’t actually asleep yet. Settling on the sun-warmed planks, he’d carefully leaned back against the rail and spoke the swordsman’s name. Green eyes had cracked open and all of Zoro’s considerable attention focused on the very nervous young man he had grown extremely fond of.
“What do you want for your birthday,” Usopp had asked.
There was a long pause in which paint-stained fingers had twisted together and ended up making a chain of knots on a loose thread dangling off a pair of brown overalls. Finally the swordsman had spoken.
“You,” he said before frowning as Usopp squeaked at the announcement.
Tremulously the sharpshooter had nodded.
“T-that’s f-fine. I w-want you t-too. Just, p-please be gentle w-with me.”
A brief moment passed in which Zoro tried to catch Usopp’s eyes, but the younger man’s flushed face was stubbornly turned downward, studying some invisible crack in the Going Merry’s deck. Understanding came then and the swordsman rolled over and up onto his knees. Zoro placed his sword-roughened hands softly on Usopp’s shoulders and nudged his face upright with his chin.
“Oi, stupid. I will be, when that time comes. But that’s not for my birthday nor is it for any other day that isn’t the right one. I meant…” Then it was the swordsman’s turn for a bit of pink to color his cheeks over his tan. “Would you mind painting me a picture? Like you did for Luffy, except I want one of just you.” Zoro’s voice became more assertive once his request was out of the way. “If you can do that, that is.”
“Of course! The Great Captain Usopp will paint you a splendiferous self-portrait that will be a marvel among all of the Blues,” Usopp had replied, his bravado that had been absent for the past few weeks suddenly returning.
And so he had. That night, after they had all eaten some cake and watched Luffy devour the rest of it in a single bite, Zoro opened his presents. From Nami he had gotten a slip of paper declaring a two percent reduction on his loan provided he repaid the rest of it, including the interest before his next birthday. Sanji and Robin had both gotten him alcohol – the chef gave him a barrel of cheap grog, saying it was all the swordsman could appreciate anyway, while the older woman had purchased a rather expensive bottle of rum, informing Sanji with a slight smile that perhaps it would broaden Zoro’s horizons. Chopper blushingly gave him some waterproof bandages and a cream that would supposedly reduce his scarring. Zoro kept the bandages but discreetly tossed the pot of medicinal ointment over the rail when the doctor wasn’t looking. As for Luffy, his present consisted of refraining from eating all of Zoro’s cake, restraining himself to stealing only part of his dinner, and then giving the swordsman a hug, two noogies, and a lumpy misshapen pillow that Nami had helped him sew.
Finally, Usopp had presented Zoro with his gift. True to his word, the sharpshooter had managed a very credible likeness of himself in oils. The swordsman, already partially tipsy, had grinned and then winked suggestively at his boyfriend.
“This’ll do,” he said. “But I was hoping for somethin’ a little more…descriptive.”
Usopp had blushed and whacked Zoro over the head while the rest of the crew laughed. But later, sitting with an intoxicated swordsman out between Nami’s mikans, Usopp had pulled a much smaller package out of one of his overall pockets. Studiously avoiding a pair of green eyes, he handed it over and was more than pleased when, moments later, his shoulders hit the deck, large hands cradled the back of his head, and Zoro’s exceedingly clever tongue found his own.
With: Nami
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 793
By mid-afternoon on November the eleventh, nearly two-thirds of the Going Merry’s small crew were passed out due to either extreme inebriation or for the purposes of digesting their over-consumption. The only ones still conscious were the two women and the swordsman. Robin was the only one, however, who could have been called alert. The quiet, mysterious woman had volunteered to take watch and, for once, Zoro’s suspicious nature had been overridden by his desire to have fun on his birthday. Up in the crow’s nest the archaeologist scanned the horizon and kept an eye on the sleeping pile of captain, sharpshooter, and reindeer up by the figurehead. From time to time, a cerulean eye winked into existence inside of the galley just to check up on the progress there.
The blonde chef was snoring as he sprawled out across one end of the table, burnt out cigarette still dangling from his fingers. At the other end, facing each other, sat the birthday boy himself and the navigator. Around them, covering the table, the benches, and part of the floor, lay empty bottles of alcohol. The impromptu drinking competition had started before lunch, had continued on through cake and the intoxicated passing-out of several crewmates, and was still going strong despite the clear drunkenness of both remaining participants.
When she wasn’t being amused, Robin took a moment to be impressed. Both the swordsman and the navigator had incredible tolerance. Staring at each other, they drank shots and glared, jeered, argued, teased, generally made asses of themselves. Finally, as Sanji’s drooling began to form a small puddle under his chin, the stakes of their game changed.
“Damn woman,” Zoro said, impressed despite himself. “Don’t know how the hell you’re still sittin’ up but there ain’t no way you’re gonna beat me at this.”
“Idiot,” Nami had giggled. “You can’t win. Nobody’s better’n me at holdin’ their booze.”
Two hands had shot out at the same time, reaching for the nearly empty bottle of scotch. Sword-calloused fingers had touched ink-stained ones and a sudden, involuntary flare of heat bloomed in liquor-filled stomachs. Zoro had snatched his hand away first, but regained some standing when Nami ended up pouring more of the fire-water onto the table than into either of their glasses. Staring at each other, each had tossed back the shot and dared the other to collapse. In the alcoholic haze, green met hazel-brown and suddenly glass shattered on the floor. Sanji snorted and rolled over while up in the crow’s nest Robin decided that things were getting interesting inside of the galley.
“Ten percent if I can get to you first,” Zoro challenged breathlessly against Nami’s slender neck.
“Eight,” she countered. “And if I win, you owe me double interest.”
“Fine,” the swordsman agreed while Nami’s response went unheard as her lips and teeth and tongue were devoured by the man.
The table was hard and somewhat damp and sticky from spilled drinks but it was thankfully free of glass shards. Holding Nami’s hips easily above his head, Zoro’s tongue tasted something far sweeter than wine while the orange-haired woman found that alcohol had managed to significantly increase her control of the gag reflex. This went on for some time and once again Robin was impressed and began to make plans on seducing both of them into her bed. Sanji still snored but his cigarette had finally fallen and was soaking up the remnants of some vodka that had somehow found the floor. Finally, just as had happened with the scotch, Zoro and Nami acted in concert once more.
Liquid heat surged through them as the swordsman lowered the navigator onto his lap and they moved quickly, slickly against each other. Nami was all soft curves and sharp, teasing tongue in Zoro’s arms but he was stubborn and strong and had a way of snapping his hips that counterbalanced all of her womanly charms. Together they moved and it was only thanks to the large quantity of sherry that Sanji had consumed that the cook was not awakened and forced to choose between killing Zoro and leering at his Nami-swan. In growing desperation, Zoro slipped a hand between their sweaty forms and Nami was forced to use a technique she’d read about in a rather smutty woman’s magazine.
As it happened, Nami ended up being defeated first but only by the slim margin of four seconds. This difference was so small, the navigator argued as she lay slumped in exhaustion against Zoro’s broad, scarred torso, as to be negligible. And Zoro, feeling unusually magnanimous although that probably came from the combination of booze and sex, agreed that Nami could just stick with her original birthday offering of a five percent reduction in his debt.
With: Ace
Rating: PG
Word Count: 346
It was impossible to miss the growing star on the horizon. As it came closer, the swordsman could see that it was no glowing object hanging low in the sky. Instead it was a fire-propelled craft that skimmed across the waves at a speed thus far unattainable by wind or man power. Within minutes of spotting it, the tiny skiff had pulled alongside the Going Merry and the captain’s brother was waving an easy, flame-bright hand up at the crow’s nest. Zoro wasn’t sure whether to grin or scowl and decided to settle for a blank expression as he climbed down and tossed the rope ladder over the rail for Ace. The freckle-faced young man was soon grinning at him cheekily from under the broad rim of his hat and Zoro couldn’t help himself.
“What d’ya want? Luffy in some kind of trouble that we should know about?”
“Nope.”
Ace was not forthcoming and Zoro, who was sleepy and irritable because he had a fairly good idea about what awaited him the next day (and none of it involved him napping), rose to the bait. Snapping, he demanded to know just why in the hell Ace was there. It’s after midnight had been his simple reply and Zoro had studied him and wondered if perhaps the last time Ace had passed out in his food he’d hit himself perhaps a bit harder on the head than before. But then one deliciously warm hand had grabbed his own and then his fingers were engulfed in wet heat and the swordsman finally got a clue.
And when Ace’s eyes had sparkled and the tiny flames dancing across his skin had banked themselves only enough to keep Zoro’s clothes from catching and his skin from searing, the swordsman had flashed his teeth and pulled Whitebeard’s second up the stairs to the relative privacy of Nami’s mikans. Zoro got the feeling that by the time Ace was done with him, not even Luffy’s enthusiasm for celebration would keep him from catching at least some lazy quiet time in the sun.
With: Usopp
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1352
It wasn’t easy, Usopp had thought, to find a present for the man who would someday soon become the world’s greatest swordsman. All of his other shipmates were so easy to handle on their birthdays. Chopper and Robin both received books, Nami too unless he happened to uncover some kind of treasure or a new map. Sanji always got either a tie or a cookbook or some kind of new pot or pan. And Luffy was easiest of all. Usopp just drew him a picture or blew something up and the captain was more than pleased. Zoro, however, was difficult.
The swordsman didn’t seem to have much use for reading, and what he did read were strange manuals on technique or meditation that were harder to come by than Usopp had expected. Zoro didn’t cook or make maps or need tools for medicine or archaeology. Somehow, too, the sharpshooter expected that the same sentimentality that worked on Luffy wouldn’t on the swordsman. The green-haired man did appreciate wanton destruction, but the fireworks that Usopp always used for the captain were a bit too tame for his tastes. All he seemed to be left with was the swords and Zoro’s exercise equipment.
In times past, such as for the winter holiday and the summer solstice, Usopp had been content with that. He’d gotten Zoro a new puffball cleaner for his blades the one time and had gone in with Luffy and Chopper to purchase the substantial iron weights that the swordsman had needed to increase his training regimen. This time, though, things were different. Firstly, Usopp felt he’d already exhausted his two obvious gift-giving options. Secondly, and more importantly, now he was, well, and he blushed at the thought, with Zoro. It seemed to him that his present should have more meaning, be more special somehow.
He had fretted about it for days, agonizing in the privacy of the crow’s nest when he had night watch and talking to himself during the day as he tinkered with various inventions. Briefly he had toyed with making Zoro some kind of machine that could help him with his exercises, but he knew the swordsman had a very particular way of training that it wouldn’t be smart for him to interfere with. Also, many of his inventions had a tendency to blow up if they were placed under strain and Zoro’s stamina meant that strain was very likely.
In desperation he had even asked his nakama for ideas. Of course it was the love cook who had provided him with the idea that now filled his mind. Even though he was with Zoro, they had never gone beyond the kissing and blushing-when-their-fingers-happened-to-brush-against-each-other stage. Sanji had proposed that Usopp offer, well, himself to the swordsman as his present. It was certainly not without merit, and the closer the day of Zoro’s birth came, the more appealing it seemed, if only because Usopp had failed to think of anything else remotely suitable. But the concept, as good as it was, made him nervous. They had never gotten beyond their current stage because Usopp knew he wasn’t ready and, hell, considering that Zoro had never pushed, perhaps the swordsman wasn’t either.
So, instead of worrying himself into a frenzy over what to get Zoro, now Usopp had worked himself up over the idea of giving himself to the swordsman. In a clear fit of exasperation (probably due to his nervous habit of needing to hammer things when he was stressed) Nami had finally advised him to just ASK Zoro what he wanted and stop causing himself and the rest of the crew so much trouble. It was a wise piece of advice, but not something that Usopp, even as the swordsman’s boyfriend, found easy to carry out. After all, the subject of sex had never been broached between them, and it felt weird to the sharpshooter to have to ask someone who was supposed to be very important to him what he wanted for his birthday. Usopp felt like he should just KNOW. But he didn’t and Nami was right about him slowly going crazy from lack of knowledge.
Two days before the special day, Usopp had finally worked up his courage. Zoro was lying on the deck, his eyes closed and his breathing even, but the sharpshooter could tell that the swordsman wasn’t actually asleep yet. Settling on the sun-warmed planks, he’d carefully leaned back against the rail and spoke the swordsman’s name. Green eyes had cracked open and all of Zoro’s considerable attention focused on the very nervous young man he had grown extremely fond of.
“What do you want for your birthday,” Usopp had asked.
There was a long pause in which paint-stained fingers had twisted together and ended up making a chain of knots on a loose thread dangling off a pair of brown overalls. Finally the swordsman had spoken.
“You,” he said before frowning as Usopp squeaked at the announcement.
Tremulously the sharpshooter had nodded.
“T-that’s f-fine. I w-want you t-too. Just, p-please be gentle w-with me.”
A brief moment passed in which Zoro tried to catch Usopp’s eyes, but the younger man’s flushed face was stubbornly turned downward, studying some invisible crack in the Going Merry’s deck. Understanding came then and the swordsman rolled over and up onto his knees. Zoro placed his sword-roughened hands softly on Usopp’s shoulders and nudged his face upright with his chin.
“Oi, stupid. I will be, when that time comes. But that’s not for my birthday nor is it for any other day that isn’t the right one. I meant…” Then it was the swordsman’s turn for a bit of pink to color his cheeks over his tan. “Would you mind painting me a picture? Like you did for Luffy, except I want one of just you.” Zoro’s voice became more assertive once his request was out of the way. “If you can do that, that is.”
“Of course! The Great Captain Usopp will paint you a splendiferous self-portrait that will be a marvel among all of the Blues,” Usopp had replied, his bravado that had been absent for the past few weeks suddenly returning.
And so he had. That night, after they had all eaten some cake and watched Luffy devour the rest of it in a single bite, Zoro opened his presents. From Nami he had gotten a slip of paper declaring a two percent reduction on his loan provided he repaid the rest of it, including the interest before his next birthday. Sanji and Robin had both gotten him alcohol – the chef gave him a barrel of cheap grog, saying it was all the swordsman could appreciate anyway, while the older woman had purchased a rather expensive bottle of rum, informing Sanji with a slight smile that perhaps it would broaden Zoro’s horizons. Chopper blushingly gave him some waterproof bandages and a cream that would supposedly reduce his scarring. Zoro kept the bandages but discreetly tossed the pot of medicinal ointment over the rail when the doctor wasn’t looking. As for Luffy, his present consisted of refraining from eating all of Zoro’s cake, restraining himself to stealing only part of his dinner, and then giving the swordsman a hug, two noogies, and a lumpy misshapen pillow that Nami had helped him sew.
Finally, Usopp had presented Zoro with his gift. True to his word, the sharpshooter had managed a very credible likeness of himself in oils. The swordsman, already partially tipsy, had grinned and then winked suggestively at his boyfriend.
“This’ll do,” he said. “But I was hoping for somethin’ a little more…descriptive.”
Usopp had blushed and whacked Zoro over the head while the rest of the crew laughed. But later, sitting with an intoxicated swordsman out between Nami’s mikans, Usopp had pulled a much smaller package out of one of his overall pockets. Studiously avoiding a pair of green eyes, he handed it over and was more than pleased when, moments later, his shoulders hit the deck, large hands cradled the back of his head, and Zoro’s exceedingly clever tongue found his own.
With: Nami
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 793
By mid-afternoon on November the eleventh, nearly two-thirds of the Going Merry’s small crew were passed out due to either extreme inebriation or for the purposes of digesting their over-consumption. The only ones still conscious were the two women and the swordsman. Robin was the only one, however, who could have been called alert. The quiet, mysterious woman had volunteered to take watch and, for once, Zoro’s suspicious nature had been overridden by his desire to have fun on his birthday. Up in the crow’s nest the archaeologist scanned the horizon and kept an eye on the sleeping pile of captain, sharpshooter, and reindeer up by the figurehead. From time to time, a cerulean eye winked into existence inside of the galley just to check up on the progress there.
The blonde chef was snoring as he sprawled out across one end of the table, burnt out cigarette still dangling from his fingers. At the other end, facing each other, sat the birthday boy himself and the navigator. Around them, covering the table, the benches, and part of the floor, lay empty bottles of alcohol. The impromptu drinking competition had started before lunch, had continued on through cake and the intoxicated passing-out of several crewmates, and was still going strong despite the clear drunkenness of both remaining participants.
When she wasn’t being amused, Robin took a moment to be impressed. Both the swordsman and the navigator had incredible tolerance. Staring at each other, they drank shots and glared, jeered, argued, teased, generally made asses of themselves. Finally, as Sanji’s drooling began to form a small puddle under his chin, the stakes of their game changed.
“Damn woman,” Zoro said, impressed despite himself. “Don’t know how the hell you’re still sittin’ up but there ain’t no way you’re gonna beat me at this.”
“Idiot,” Nami had giggled. “You can’t win. Nobody’s better’n me at holdin’ their booze.”
Two hands had shot out at the same time, reaching for the nearly empty bottle of scotch. Sword-calloused fingers had touched ink-stained ones and a sudden, involuntary flare of heat bloomed in liquor-filled stomachs. Zoro had snatched his hand away first, but regained some standing when Nami ended up pouring more of the fire-water onto the table than into either of their glasses. Staring at each other, each had tossed back the shot and dared the other to collapse. In the alcoholic haze, green met hazel-brown and suddenly glass shattered on the floor. Sanji snorted and rolled over while up in the crow’s nest Robin decided that things were getting interesting inside of the galley.
“Ten percent if I can get to you first,” Zoro challenged breathlessly against Nami’s slender neck.
“Eight,” she countered. “And if I win, you owe me double interest.”
“Fine,” the swordsman agreed while Nami’s response went unheard as her lips and teeth and tongue were devoured by the man.
The table was hard and somewhat damp and sticky from spilled drinks but it was thankfully free of glass shards. Holding Nami’s hips easily above his head, Zoro’s tongue tasted something far sweeter than wine while the orange-haired woman found that alcohol had managed to significantly increase her control of the gag reflex. This went on for some time and once again Robin was impressed and began to make plans on seducing both of them into her bed. Sanji still snored but his cigarette had finally fallen and was soaking up the remnants of some vodka that had somehow found the floor. Finally, just as had happened with the scotch, Zoro and Nami acted in concert once more.
Liquid heat surged through them as the swordsman lowered the navigator onto his lap and they moved quickly, slickly against each other. Nami was all soft curves and sharp, teasing tongue in Zoro’s arms but he was stubborn and strong and had a way of snapping his hips that counterbalanced all of her womanly charms. Together they moved and it was only thanks to the large quantity of sherry that Sanji had consumed that the cook was not awakened and forced to choose between killing Zoro and leering at his Nami-swan. In growing desperation, Zoro slipped a hand between their sweaty forms and Nami was forced to use a technique she’d read about in a rather smutty woman’s magazine.
As it happened, Nami ended up being defeated first but only by the slim margin of four seconds. This difference was so small, the navigator argued as she lay slumped in exhaustion against Zoro’s broad, scarred torso, as to be negligible. And Zoro, feeling unusually magnanimous although that probably came from the combination of booze and sex, agreed that Nami could just stick with her original birthday offering of a five percent reduction in his debt.
With: Ace
Rating: PG
Word Count: 346
It was impossible to miss the growing star on the horizon. As it came closer, the swordsman could see that it was no glowing object hanging low in the sky. Instead it was a fire-propelled craft that skimmed across the waves at a speed thus far unattainable by wind or man power. Within minutes of spotting it, the tiny skiff had pulled alongside the Going Merry and the captain’s brother was waving an easy, flame-bright hand up at the crow’s nest. Zoro wasn’t sure whether to grin or scowl and decided to settle for a blank expression as he climbed down and tossed the rope ladder over the rail for Ace. The freckle-faced young man was soon grinning at him cheekily from under the broad rim of his hat and Zoro couldn’t help himself.
“What d’ya want? Luffy in some kind of trouble that we should know about?”
“Nope.”
Ace was not forthcoming and Zoro, who was sleepy and irritable because he had a fairly good idea about what awaited him the next day (and none of it involved him napping), rose to the bait. Snapping, he demanded to know just why in the hell Ace was there. It’s after midnight had been his simple reply and Zoro had studied him and wondered if perhaps the last time Ace had passed out in his food he’d hit himself perhaps a bit harder on the head than before. But then one deliciously warm hand had grabbed his own and then his fingers were engulfed in wet heat and the swordsman finally got a clue.
And when Ace’s eyes had sparkled and the tiny flames dancing across his skin had banked themselves only enough to keep Zoro’s clothes from catching and his skin from searing, the swordsman had flashed his teeth and pulled Whitebeard’s second up the stairs to the relative privacy of Nami’s mikans. Zoro got the feeling that by the time Ace was done with him, not even Luffy’s enthusiasm for celebration would keep him from catching at least some lazy quiet time in the sun.
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-11 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-13 04:53 pm (UTC)or blew something up *snickers*
now he was, well, and he blushed at the thought, with Zoro. Awww! Blushing Usopp.
Of course it was the love cook who had provided him with the idea that now filled his mind. And I bet Sanji hasn't been pleasuring himself with thoughts of this for months or anything. Because he likes girls, you know. ^_~
“T-that’s f-fine. I w-want you t-too. Just, p-please be gentle w-with me.” Awww! Nervous Usopp.
“Oi, stupid... Love sweet!Zoro and this whole paragraph.
Luffy's present is just perfect. And Usopp's other present is even better.
the sleeping pile of captain, sharpshooter, and reindeer up by the figurehead. If I could draw, I would draw this.
When she wasn’t being amused, Robin took a moment to be impressed. Robin love!
Sanji drooling is oddly cute.
Robin was impressed and began to make plans on seducing both of them into her bed. Holy damn, more Robin love.
In growing desperation, Zoro slipped a hand between their sweaty forms and Nami was forced to use a technique she’d read about in a rather smutty woman’s magazine. O_O Do you know how rare truly hot het smut is? *fans self*
Zoro had studied him and wondered if perhaps the last time Ace had passed out in his food he’d hit himself perhaps a bit harder on the head than before. *sporfle*
But then one deliciously warm hand had grabbed his own and then his fingers were engulfed in wet heat and the swordsman finally got a clue. Mmmmmm...
And when Ace’s eyes had sparkled and the tiny flames dancing across his skin had banked themselves only enough to keep Zoro’s clothes from catching and his skin from searing And you don't write Ace more often why?
no subject
Date: 2005-11-13 11:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 12:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 12:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-14 12:57 am (UTC)I am glad the Nami/Zoro smut was good. I like het but it's been AGES since I've bothered (and even then in Ranma I made him be a girl like 80% of the time).
Ace...is complicated. But YAY! I'm glad you enjoyed this round of spam.