#zen fic

[zensations35]

Watch My Back (Haz/bin)

WELP I didn't think I'd be whumping the short king before my deer boi but HERE WE ARE. I blame @instarsandcrime for my newfound simping after this absolute disaster of a man 🥵🥵🥵 and this got INDULGENT LET ME TELL YOU. Now, enjoy this fic based on a prompt by my aforementioned friend, where Alastor plays bodyguard to Lucifer and finds out Mr. Silly has a holy wound (and then unFoRtuNatELy gets whumped by the author). ;)

“Must I?” 

Charlie gazes dolefully up at the Radio Demon, hands clasped in what some people (not Alastor of course) would call prayer. 

“Pleeeease, Alastor?” she begs. She doesn’t ask for a lot, but this request seems…well. Strange. Really? A bodyguard for her father? Fathomless.

He sighs, bandwidth crackling. “Very well, though I really don’t see the necessity for it. Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself, you know.”

Behind them, Lucifer picks up a glass trinket between two sharp fingers to examine it, his mouth crooked and casual. As if connected to it by a wire, Niffty’s crimson hair stands on end. She all but teleports to Lucifer, startling him so suddenly, he drops the trinket, shattering it so it’s shards fan across the hard floor. 

“Noooo!” Niffty bursts into tears, her tiny arms scrabbling to scoop up the pieces. “My new boyfriend got me that!” she wails. 

Alastor hums. “On second thought, perhaps he could no sooner care for himself than tie his own shoelaces.”

Charlie resists the urge to smack him. “Alastor, you have to be nice.” 

“Mm~ I’ve already agreed to help you. Let’s not push the limits of my capabilities.” 

Charlie hurries off to give the news to her father while Alastor swaggers toward an empty table propped flush against a wall. Niffty hadn’t finished decorating this one, but Alastor has quite the idea for it anyway. He was just fluffing the long white petals when the pouting visionary of Hell stomps over.

His gaze crawls over the perennial plant and he scowls harder. “What are these?”

“Lilies! Aren’t they swell? I thought you’d appreciate some charm during your stay, oh esteemed one,” Alastor’s voice is sticky with sarcasm.

Lucifer scowls at the sadistically named plant. He sucks on his lips and Alastor suppresses a chuckle. 

“Are you displeased, sir?” 

“Hm, what?” Lucifer blinks out of his wayward thought. “No, of course not,” he thumps his cane on the plush carpet. “Do whatever. I don’t c--hiih!” 

Lucifer jerks away, eyes pinched. He dips down with a strange, “IkPFShw!” The jerk of his limbs strikes a bronze anteater figurine and, again, sends the trinket crashing to the floor to break into pieces. 

“NOOO!” Niffty screeches, flying to its rescue. “My other boyfriend made that for me!” 

Lucifer’s fingers squeeze his moist cheeks and he sniffles thickly. “I…I do apologize, little one. I--”

She rears back and kicks him in the ankle. “You’re the wrong kind of bad boy!”

Lucifer grunts as she skitters away with the pieces tucked into the balloon of her apron.

Alastor smothers a snicker at his expense, antlers lengthening just a tick. 

“Well,” Lucifer draws the word out, adjusting his crooked bowtie, ignoring the flush in his own cheeks. “I have errands to run--”

Charlie suddenly appears in the doorway as if the word ‘errands’ manifested her. 

“You’re leaving?”

Lucifer’s lip forms a triangular frown. “I, uh,” his cheek feathers, “Sweetie, I have to make appearances now that I’m not…”

“Self isolating for years on end, with only negative self talk as your social activity, and trying to get through it by throwing yourself whole ass into repetitive passion projects that seem fulfilling at the time but end up not meeting your expectations just like your own self image?” Angel calls from the bar.

Everyone stares at the puffy porn star. Husk rolls up a newspaper and smacks him hard upside the head. 

“Ow!” 

Lucifer scratches his jaw anxiously. “Uh, yeah. That.” 

Charlie masks her disappointment with a glimmering smile. “Well! I’m sure that will be a great bonding exercise for you and Alastor!”

The two men exchange wilted looks. 

“Sshhhhhure sweetie!” Lucifer faux beams. He straightens his tophat and pats his thigh at Alastor as if coaxing a dog. “Come on attendant. Pip pip!” 

Alastor’s teeth grind, smoke trailing as he follows behind the shorter King. 

“Have fun!” Charlie waves her whole arm after them, fangs flashing in her winning smile. “Make good choices!!”

The bar Lucifer goes to is on the edge of the pentagram. The outside is brown brick partially crumbling but held together with thick, gristly magic. A scarred bouncer with gills and an oval mouth allows them in without a word.

Inside, the music is surprisingly tolerable. No thumps and booms, no bleats and drops like clubs Vox would have dragged Alastor to.

It’s…refreshing.

Lucifer makes a beeline for a corner clear of furniture but thick with an assortment of hellborn rulers and a few overlords. He must be making those appearances…

To Alastor’s right, a sinner catches his eye. A silver-haired demon with long rabbit ears and a plaited braid. Her features are guarded and soft with youth. She holds an empty glass, bone dry. A purple nail taps the rim, her eyes fixed on the bottom but not really seeing it.

Alastor pauses at the young woman, fingers curling tightly around his cane. The youth’s dull eyes flick to his and her soul bares for a fleeting moment. 

Fear. Abuse. Mangled by hands more powerful and more able-bodied than she. 

Alastor feels his blood ignite, his fangs sharpen with desire for vengeance. 

The youth flinches, reacting to Alastor’s anger, not knowing the cause.

A faraway sound skirts the edge of his rage, strangely familiar, a twisting of lips and grating throat.

The sound snaps Alastor’s rage into shards and he blinks himself back into the noise around him. He circles toward the bar, moseying his way through the greasy crowd and leans in to hum statickly at the barkeep. 

“Serve that young woman anything she wishes,” he gestures to the silver haired sinner. 

The barkeep grunts, “She's gonna wait her turn.”

The Radio Demon growls, his height and timbre climbing several inches. “Apologies…I was not clear.” His claws cut jagged lines into the wooden counter. “I meant Ń̷̤̫̎̄̽͆̈̏͐͜O̶̭͂̃͑̚W̶̧̡͙͍̊́͆̾̚͠” 

The barkeep swallows and nods. And moves to obey. 

Now, where the fuck is his highness?

Lucifer has buried himself in the cloud of sinners and hellborn. Alastor doesn’t recognize some of them. He doesn’t move in those circles--not for lack of trying. 

They’re chittering away like warbling fowls. 

‘So and so! Good to see you!’ 

‘It’s been too long!’ 

‘How are things on your side of the pit?; 

‘Still tormenting in the ancient methods?’  

‘Have you seen the big guy in charge?’

‘Oh he’s still jacking off to his thunderbolts AH HAH HAAA’

Dreadfully boring.

One of the more vibrant hellborn cracks a joke and Lucifer tosses his head back in laughter. It sounds fake as fuck. 

Something slips under Alastor’s foot, giving him pause. It’s the scent--something venerated and familiar...

He looks down and sees a spatter of gold dotting the grimy tile, with a larger puddle at the tip of his shoe. 

Curious, Alastor taps his cane to the floor, leveraging himself so he can kneel. He bends low enough to dip a claw over the silken, rippling surface. 

As soon as his skin warms with the liquid, his nerves purr. The buzz tingles up his body and he shivers violently.

His throat crackles, “Hvv٨ﮩSH٨ـﮩZh!” 

Smoke mists from him and he wrenches away from the puddle, wiping his hand on the end of his coat. Hmph. A strange enigma…

His ears twitch, picking up another trill of laughter from the gaggle surrounding Lucifer. How long is he going to put up this farce?

Alastor watches the king of Hell intently and recognizes uneasiness in his firelit eyes. Definitely a veneer, batting away personal inquiries and distracting with jokes or redirecting by asking after the speaker. 

Oh, clever bitch he thinks he is. Alastor sees right through him. The Radio Demon hones in on the audio, intent now on eavesdropping. 

“...majesty,” a thatchy demon gurgles, boisterously laughing along with a large forked claw grasping his square belly. “How’s the wife?”

Lucifer’s smile slips, brief, and the gleam in his eyes dim. “Oh, fine, fine. Beautiful as ever, of course. And how is your partner? Are you still dating the Y2K virus?”

The square demon barks a laugh. “Oh, no no no. We broke up ages ago. Toxic as fuck. Noooo, I’m dating Vine now. You wouldn’t believe the cosplay sex--”

Lucifer slaps his chest and gasps. “Vine died??” 

Alastor groans. What the fuck are they talking about?

Lucifer suddenly makes a jerking motion, mirrored by a violent squeak. Alastor’s heart races when he sees the King wince and bend in what looks to be a pained twist. 

Fuck! Is he actually being attacked? Alastor vanishes in a cloud of spindly shadow, reappearing next to Lucifer and spurring shocked gasps from a few of the rulers in the group. 

“Your highness,” the Radio Demon titters, with as much respect as he can fucking muster.

“H-hgxPST!” Lucifer’s raspy sneeze bursts into a squeezed fist, startling Alastor, who hesitates his next sentence. 

Was he wrong? Did he overreact and now he came to Lucifer’s rescue over…a fucking sneeze? Rrrgh. Shame sharpens his claws around his microphone and anger shortly follows. How does this asshole even sneeze without a nose??

Lucifer scrubs his face with his palm and lets out a ridiculous whoop. 

“Hooo! Sorry about that! Didn’t mean to scare ya, buddy,” he jabs Alastor with his elbow as if they were best friends. Alastor’s teeth powder with the effort of restraint. 

“No worries your hig̵͐h̶̘̕n̴̡̕e̴s̵͛٨ـs.” his smile climbs nearly into his eyes. “I am here to serve.” He hooks his arm under Lucifer’s, linking elbows so the King cannot escape and dragging him away, ignoring the startled protests of the shorter man.

Alastor stops when he arrives at the golden droplets and releases Lucifer before tapping his cane on the floor. “Have you seen this?” he asks, cracking his neck to the side inquisitively.

Lucifer rubs his finger over his chin and hrms. 

“Ah, well,” he shrugs, barely looking at Alastor, “Someone must have spilled ambrosia I suppose.”

Alastor’s brows shoot up. “Ambrosia? What, may I ask, is that?”

He didn’t think it was possible for someone so ceramically pale to whiten further, but Lucifer seems to do just that. “Ahhhmmm, nevermind…” Lucifer’s fingers brush the hem of his suit and his face crimps. He clears his throat and slithers away.  

“Will you excuse me for a moment?”

Alastor scoffs. Even if he might have been wrong about the sneeze, there’s a chance he isn’t. And his gut is telling him something’s amiss. He’s not about to let this asshole swan off alone. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I was charged with your care, your grace. I have a duty, you see~”

Lucifer’s eyebrow twitches, annoyance painting his face with a flush. “I assure you, I can use the fucking restroom by myself,” he gives a fangy smirk.

“In a dump like this?”

“Alastor, leave me the fuck. Alone.”

Before Alastor can press further, Lucifer does indeed swan off. The door to the restroom clips shut, separating him from the King.

What a dramatic wretch. Well, a door won’t stop a demon. A clattering rap with the back of Alastor’s hand causes a thump from within followed by a vexed, “Occupied!”

“Obviously. Yet I am entering regardless.” Alastor grips the warm knob. It rattles, hinges reisting as Lucifer’s protests grow increasingly less convincing.

“I’m--hhh! I’m fi--Ihh! Hii! XSH! Ehk’SHHh-HieWW!” 

Yeah fucking right. Alastor better fucking get in there or Charlie will have a field day with rainbow sprinkles. 

A flurry of sound, thudding and grunts of…is he in pain? God dammit! Miserablefuckingcocksuckingpieceof--

Finally the door wrenches open. Alastor wades inside and a wash of humid air hits his skin, making him cringe. Lucifer is bent over the white marble sink, heaps of tan paper towels littering the counter, some having fluttered around his feet dark and anointed with a glittering substance.

His face is currently wrapped in the crook of his elbow and his shoulders shudder with heaving breaths, “IX’SHWW! HF’pSHW!” His sleeve absorbs most of the sound but it still sounds truly dreadful, “Nghh…” 

Alastor grumbles disapprovingly, “I am starting to suspect you’re lying, sir.”  

Lucifer’s hat lies to the side, top down and limp, as well as his cane. A clawed hand grips the sawed edge of the counter, the King holding himself steady as he shakes with the effort of his labored breaths. 

“I told you,” his voice is low and serious now, no hint of his playful kinder. “To stay. Out.” Something drips on the tile next to him. The same liquid Alastor saw before--raw, angelic blood.

“So you did take a blade.”

Lucifer growls, moving his hand to cover the wound, but all he ends up doing is smearing his clothes slick with the gleaming fluid.

Alastor tuts, “You should have told me, you know.” He sets his cane against the wall and moves closer to Lucifer, stretching his arm out toward the injured side.

Lucifer lashes out, grasping his wrist with his free hand, “Don’t.” 

The Radio Demon pauses, staring into his haunted eyes. 

“The blood will…affect you.”

“A-hah! You think I care?”

“I think you put yourself first. I think you’d love to see me wither here if it keeps your pompous ass safe.”

Alastor grimaces and yanks away from his weak grasp. In an electric snap, Lucifer’s shirt is bunched in his fist and he is pulling the King in close. He speaks in static, voice measured and quicksilver cruel. 

“Your assumption that I have an agenda would be correct, m̴y̶ ̷͋K̸i̴ng̶̈͗. And it does not involve you dying.” 

Lucifer’s chest inflates but he doesn’t retaliate. 

Alastor releases Lucifer, features retracting with his mood. “Now, let’s see this wound.” 

“There’s nothing you can do for it,” Lucifer mutters as he painfully shirks his jacket.

“Your capacity for being misguided is astounding,” Alastor drums his fingers on the counter, claws clacking. “Show me.”

The jacket falls to the floor and the wound is fully revealed: twin slashes crisscrossing his side, a glossy expanse of wounds just below his left rib.

“And these wounds cause you to…?”

Lucifer massages the circle of his cheek with a sigh, “I’m just…not handling it well.”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“Not…not so much--I--” his face falls and air corckscrews through his teeth, “Ng-Eh’KPSH!! EiiSHH-iieuww!” 

His wound flares bright with the gilded liquid and Alastor seals his lids against the blinding light.

“Alright,” Alastor moves closer, positioning himself to spread his hands above the slit of seeping light. Lucifer watches with interest as the Radio Demon’s eyes gleam black like the shells of tiny beetles. Runes pop and fizzle over the glowing shreds.

Lucifer’s eyes widen as he watches the runes morph and vellicate. “What magic--”

“Quiet.” 

“But, those runes. I know--”

“I said silence٨ـ.” 

“No, Alastor. Where the fuck--”

Alastor wrenches back, magic dissipating, but his eyes remain inky with rage. His fist slams against the wall, cracking a line in the frail plaster. “You and I both know your idiot act is just that! An act. You know exactly what I can do, so stay still and quit prattling.”

The lilies. 

Lucifer’s lips guppy open and closed. “Your deal. It was…”

Alastor grunts, frustration rippling the bandwidth of his voice. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you don’t want to be healed.”

He pushes his own sleeves up to the bend of his elbows, anchoring them to his forearms. Then, he pinches the hem of his pinstripe coat and tears it in a full around strip. His pupils float toward the King’s body, hesitant. Static clings to the air as he nears the wound. 

Lucifer flinches instinctively. “I’m warning you, it will--”

“Affect me, yes yes. I’ve touched angel blood before.”

“I’m an archangel, Alastor.”

 Alastor rolls his eyes. Will he just shut the fuck up already?

The Radio Demon presses the cloth against the holy wound, adhering it instantly. Lucifer’s skin is hot like a freshly lit fire. Alastor feels the effect of the pale poison straightaway. He clamps his jaw, brow creasing as his skin beads with sweat. 

Lucifer winces, claws carving slits into the counter. As Alastor works the strip around his midsection, his teeth grind against the shudders of breath battling in his throat. 

“Your hands are shaking.” 

“Shut ũ̷̼͆̇͑̈̄́́̏̉̚̕͝͝ͅp̴̰̪͎̲̲̗͎͝. Alastor’s voice crackles.

Lucifer's lip wobbles. “Hvvv-nn!” a hiss of indrawn air. 

“Don’t do that now.” 

“It’s not my hhhih choice!” 

“Can’t you just--”

“He-eih KSHHieeψ!” The filaments buzz within the light bulbs, flickering them into darkness and then back into squinting light. As Lucifer wracks forward, it jostles Alastor’s hands and breaches his careful conservation, smearing his wrists with gold. 

He dips back, chin tilting as his throat buzzes with a snap of energy. “Hhh--ehhh-HH!” 

“Dammit, Alastor--”

“Too late--hhh-for tha-HH٨ـZZT٨ـY!” He pushed his fist to his nose, using pressure against the damp rim of his nostrils to chase away the itch. Not to any measure of success. “HK! ﮩ٨ـﮩZZ!” A wail grates in Lucifer’s ear and he recoils. 

“You’re making it worse,” Lucifer twists with a grunt, grabbing some of the towels to clean Alastor’s cheek. 

“I don’t--hih-nn eed…”

“Heaven alive can we both stop with this cocky bullshit. Truce, okay? Or would you rather spend all day in here sneezing with me?”

R̷͕̪̤̈́̓r̸̳̻̕͠rg̵̡̞͊̔͝ẖ̷͉͋̐jh̵̜͇̦͐̉  Alastor saws at his face, each motion crackling with energy. “Very well, get it over hhhhﮩ٨ـﮩ-! With.” 

Lucifer works with the towels to wipe away the smears while Alastor finishes knotting the makeshift bandage. Once they’re done they both pull back with twin sniffles and a bucket of awkwardness in the empty air.

Alastor shunts his gaze, ignoring the gnawing in his chest. Lucifer cleans up the scattered flaxen towels and starts burning them until their ashes film the ground. The scent of honey and seeded mulch fills the room, like no bonfire Alastor had ever attended.

Four papers remaining, Lucifer finally speaks.

“How do the humans handle it?”

Alastor knits his brow. “Handle what?”

“Losing. Over and over.”

Alastor’s lips press firm. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

Lucifer finally looks at him then, his mouth a small circle. He doesn’t pursue. He flicks the last of the ash off his fingers and sucks in a breath. 

“Well,” his orange eyes meet the Radio Demon’s, “shall we head back? Tell Charlie we had a…bonding exercise?”

Alastor laughs. It’s more real than he’d laughed in…ages. “Details aside?”

Lucifer offers a genuine, if modest smile. “Agreed.”

[idyllcy]

saccharine - mike schmidt x reader

You taste like divine honey.

Mike decides that on a random Wednesday afternoon, Abby still at school, his face still buried in your cunt. 

You're a dripping mess around him, your slick sticking to the stubble of his half-shaved face, back arched as he curls his fingers in you again, taking the moment to breathe, but refusing to leave your pretty pussy alone. He has to be attached to you in some way. If he isn't. If he isn't. If he isn't, then he's sure the nightmares will come again. He'd pick drowning in your messy cunt than those dreams in a heartbeat. 

He pants, catching his breath as you clench around him again, tears in the corner of your eyes as you cum for the nth time. His name comes off as a weak whine from your lips as he fingers you through your orgasm, refusing to stay still as you cry about how you didn't have any more in you. He knows you do. Even if you don't want it, you haven't called your safeword yet, so he's free to continue with you.

He pulls his fingers out of you with a lewd squelch, bringing them to his lips, sucking on them as you recover from the orgasm, head turned to the side as your chest rises and falls with each breath, the thin layer of sheen on your skin. Then, when he's sure they're clean, he delves back into your cunt, tongue forcing past your folds, causing you to jolt, fingers flying to his hair and digging into his scalp, almost crying as you try to tell him you can't take any more, but it falls on deaf ears. 

He mumbles for one more as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, one of his hands going to lace with your fingers, giving you a gentle squeeze as he forces one last orgasm out of you, drinking it up as his head spins from the lack of oxygen, but oh heavens do you taste divine.

[sleepingdeath-light]

red and the wolf ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 974

content ; sexually explicit content, dirty talk, slight praise kink, penetrative sex

fandom ; mystic messenger

pairing ; hyun ryu / zen x gender neutral reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

When your boyfriend had called himself 'a wolf' in the bedroom you'd just brushed it off as a joke about him having a high libido (which your perpetually aching thighs and few dozen pairs of ruined underwear could attest to). But now, with him looming over you in with those sparkling, perfectly white teeth, and glimmering red eyes, and that deep voice that sounded like something between a growl and a whisper, you couldn't help but think he was being far more literal than you'd initially given him credit for.

Not that you were complaining, of course, it was nice to be manhandled every once in a while — even if all of the filth falling from those beautiful lips of his was starting to drive you mad.

Zen urged you to be loud, to make as much noise as you want and more — leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear and whispering in that heavy evening voice of his to ask if you can be 'louder' for him. Practically begging you to keep making all of those 'pretty noises' you know he loves. And every whimper and moan and gasp earned you a cuss, or a grunt, or a perfectly angled thrust of his cock straight into that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. A reward for your obedience punctuated by wet, messy kisses to your lips that were more tongue and teeth than anything else (oh how swollen your lips would be tomorrow, marred with the indents of his teeth and your own, bitten so deeply that you could already taste your own coppery blood on your tongue despite how young the night still was).

He downright worshipped your body between thrusts: groping at every ridge, and swell, and dip, and scar — complimenting each part of you with an earnestness that you knew better than to dispute. Calling you 'hot', 'sexy', and 'all mine' as he sucked, bit, and marked his way along your throat and jaw. Tenderly lapping at your pulse point and chuckling when he felt it jump after a particularly playful slap to your backside. He playfully calls you his 'little pet'; the 'red' to his 'wolf' — and he mouths wet promises against your throat of not stopping until the mattress is hanging off of the bed and you're both too tired to go on (and with his stamina, well… you'll surely have a long night ahead of you).

He then effortlessly lifted your trembling thigh with one hand to wrap it around his waist, feeling the muscles of his abdomen pressing into your skin as he pressed his muscular chest down against yours. And in that same husky voice, Zen praised you for taking him 'so well' tonight, words that barely reach you as you’re far too close to climax to notice much beyond how good it feels to have him touching you and the waves of pleasant heat washing over your body as you start to mount your peak.

Clearly he’s not too far behind as you can just about see him gritting his teeth through your hazy vision as he tried his best to last out for you. Pace quickening and deepening as he eagerly chased your high and chased your lips with his own with the same amount of ferocity you’d come to expect from him, calling you 'perfect', and 'made for me', and telling you how you feel 'so fucking good, babe,'. Each broken phrase an island of coherence amongst the endless stream of growls, and moans, and grunts that slip from his lips as he pounds his hips into yours and fills your hole with his dick in that way you love (and how could you not?).

Long strands of white hair fall over his shoulders and out of his up-do, tickling your nose and sticking to the sweat covering your body and face as you started to rapidly approach your climax. But by now you're too distracted by the way it felt to be stretched out on that pretty cock of his, and the distant sensation of him slipping one of those large, soft hands into yours and holding it tightly — grounding you in the same way that he was kept grounded by the sharp stinging pain of your fingernails digging into the toned, pale expanse of his shoulders and back — to care about anything like that. Even the fuzzy sound of his voice praising you, and cussing, and grunting and moaning against your lips (and jaw and cheeks and throat, always moving and marking and loving you) was too distant to your muddy mind for you to truly notice or understand beyond your short responses in the shape of moans and whimpers.

Then something snaps and the world around you comes crashing down, washed away with what remained of your coherent thoughts by the torrent of burning pleasure that wracked through your body. Kept in that blissful, whited-out place by his soft lips, and endless flirting, and expert thrusting as you lost yourself in the pounding of your heart, and the aching of your lungs, and the intense sensations that left your whole body limp and trembling, and your entrance pulsing and fluttering around your Zen. No longer able to do anything but moan, and gasp, and whimper until your throat was too hoarse to do even that.

And Zen (your Zen, your wolf) followed soon after with a loud cry (howl, even) of your name as he filled you completely with his seed. Pressing his sweat slicked forehead against yours as you both try and catch your breath. Completely messy and blissed out and in love; red and their wolf, basking in the musky afterglow before going straight back into the fray the moment you had both come back down to earth.

[standfucker]

More Than Enough

Extremely belated birthday gift for @nekomacheercaptain, thanks for being a great friend these past few months! Hope it was worth the wait, thanks for your patience!

Characters: Rosinante

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 11,898

CW: fluff, explicit N.SFW content, established relationship, lots of smooches, shy reader, chubby reader, lil bit of soft dom Rosi, body worship, praise, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving,) fingering, vaginal penetration, size difference, size kink, big insertion, belly bulge, slight bit of hurt/comfort, reader does not finish but has a great time so it’s all good

Summary: When Rosinante discovers that your birthday's coming up, he does what he can to make it special.

Ao3 Link

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Rosinante’s call of your name pulls you out of your thoughts. You blink, now back in reality, and look his way. At this distance, you can see his concerned frown under the red paint, pointed opposite of the harlequin curves.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” you reply quietly.

“You seem distracted.”

His eyes are soft. It’s not something you would ever see around the family. To the outside world, they are cold and aloof, all out of necessity. But the way he looks at you in private–it’s like he’s a completely different person.

All Rosinante had done was comment on the date, and you had gone quiet, a realization setting in that you didn’t know how to feel about. Knowing the stakes as you do, this long after he had divulged his secret to you, it seems trivial. Now that you’re both playing this deadly game of pretend under Doflamingo’s nose, what does it matter?

You play with the hem of your sleeve, thumb sliding across the worn threads for stimulation and comfort, a nervous habit. Rosi’s eyes settle on your busy fingers. He knows it means you’re agitated, you’re pretty sure. He’s frighteningly observant.

“It’s nothing, really,” you try to dismiss, hoping to avoid the conversation altogether.

Rosinante hesitates, unsure if he should pry. He hates making you uncomfortable, but you can tell he wants you to confide in him–he told you as much, after all, those many months ago when he revealed his voice.

“I’ve told you my secret. In exchange, you tell me yours, and we’ll call it even.”

Guilt stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Rosinante had long since earned your trust, hadn’t he? He would probably want to know.

“It’s just… It’s my birthday tomorrow,” you finally admit. “I completely forgot about it, to be honest, until just now when you mentioned the date.”

His reaction is as you feared–shock slowly morphing into excitement, his lips curling up to match the direction of the face paint. He starts to speak.

“We should do somethi–”

“No!” you cut him off, surprising you both. Then you cringe at your outburst, giving him an apologetic look. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. Birthdays can be a weird time for me. I don’t know that I want to celebrate.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

The disappointment in that little ‘oh’ reinforces the guilt. You try not to overthink it–you’re too tired from the mission Doflamingo assigned you two to let minor stresses pile up now. At least you and Rosinante had finished up early. There were still two more days until you were scheduled to meet the Numancia Flamingo, from which you would be sailing to the next island, only a day’s travel away. 

For now, you took temporary refuge in a recently-abandoned house on the outskirts of town. It meant that for the next 48 hours, neither you nor Rosinante had to pretend. He seemed aware of the shrinking span of time you had left, because he had been touchier since the mission ended, even for him.

“It’s just…” Rosi takes your hand, dwarfing it in his. His thumb sweeps over your knuckles, his go-to gesture when you’re anxious.  “I want to do something for you.”

“I knew you would,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, because of course he would. He cares fiercely, as you've come to find out, for his loved ones–and somehow, somewhere along the line, you'd become one of them. It’s only natural he’d want to celebrate. And while you don’t know if you have the mental energy for an outing tomorrow, you wonder if you can make a compromise. Indulge him in indulging you.

“Spend time with me?” you suggest. “Just me and you staying in tomorrow, keeping each other company, doing absolutely nothing. That would be more than enough.”

That was what you needed. To relax for a day, to have no expectations, to give your nerves time to come down. Having Rosinante by your side for that seems like a pretty good birthday gift to you.

“You want to do nothing?” he questions, uncertain.

“Yep.” 

Uncertainty turns to thoughtfulness. You know he’s tired, too.

“...I suppose we have earned a break.”

Rosinante holds you close when you go to bed that night, one huge arm across your torso tucking you against his chest like you're a stuffed animal. Your hands come to rest on his arm. He’s solid and warm against your back, bringing a sense of safety you’d never really felt in your life before knowing him.

With privacy among the family nearly impossible to find, you soak in each other’s presence as much as you can in these rare opportunities. He kisses the top of your head before settling, and you squeeze his arm in response.

“I love you,” he says sleepily.

That has you twisting in place, rolling over to face him. Even in the dark, you can clearly see those soft eyes looking down at you fondly.

Why? A part of you wants to ask. But you don’t. There will be plenty of time for doubts once you’re back around his brother. Right now, it’s just you, Rosinante, and the delicate, wild thing that’s bloomed between you this past year. Candid, honest, and trusting. The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.

So you say, “I love you too,” and you look into those adoring eyes of his when you do, to let him know you mean it.

Even as tired as he is, Rosinante’s smile is bright and giddy, more like a schoolboy whose crush held his hand rather than a three-meter tall grown man. He bends down to kiss you, and you stretch to meet him, freeing your arms from between your bodies so you can hold his face to yours.

He's holding you almost too tightly as he falls asleep, but the pressure is soothing, and once he dozes off, his grip loosens. You both tend to move in your sleep, you more so than him, so you’re not surprised to no longer be in contact when you wake the next morning. But when you reach your arm out to the other side of the bed, seeking his warmth, you find that it’s empty.

You sit up, right in time to hear the front door open. On instinct, you get tense, battle-weary nerves anticipating a possible enemy. But then you hear a thump, followed by Rosinante’s yelp, and you know all is well.

As you’d expected, a single night’s sleep wasn’t enough to ease your tension after the stresses of the mission. You’re still tired as you stretch and rise, briefly debating on just going back to sleep but deciding you wouldn’t rest as well without Rosinante there anyway.

You find him in the kitchen. There’s a bag with crumpled take-out boxes on the table, likely smashed during his fall.

“Good morning,” Rosinante says merrily, rubbing a new sore spot on his head. “Happy birthday!”

Right. Your birthday. The momentary blank look on your face makes Rosi chuckle.

“Did you forget again?”

“Um… Maybe?” you say sheepishly, pulling out a chair to plop into.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says, his proud look turning into a slight cringe when he removes the crushed boxes from the bag. He slides one over to you. “Got us breakfast. Should be intact.”

The boxes have the logo of what must be a local diner. Inside is a stack of heart-shaped waffles. Thankfully, being flat, they survived the fall without being ruined. There’s little containers of butter and syrup inside with them, upturned but miraculously still closed.

“Oh, it smells so good!” Your mouth is already watering–restaurant food was always a welcome change from boat food. “Thank you, Corazon! I was so drained from this week, I didn’t even think about what we’d eat today.”

“Sure." He beams at your response, proud of himself again. “We can figure out lunch and dinner later.”

After breakfast, you check on the laundry you had hung up the day prior. Sweat, dirt, blood–not a trace of the mission remains on them. Washing the bloodstains out of clothing by yourself had always felt sinister, like you were covering up your crimes. Doing it next to Rosinante, for some reason, was different. With him, it felt more like a cleansing ritual–sitting side by side, working to return your attire, and by extension, yourselves, to a state of normalcy. Afraid he would get the stain remover into his eyes somehow, you had forcibly taken over for him. After some initial protesting, he acquiesced, sitting you in his lap as you worked, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

Everything is dry except for Rosinante’s black feather coat, the thick material still damp to the touch. There are spots along the shoulders where the feathers are scratchy and stiff from having been singed, but the rest is soft. You run your hand over it, then lean in to sniff the garment without really thinking about it. Even having been washed, it still smells like him, a comforting mix of his natural scent and nicotine.

“Is it dry?”

Rosinante’s voice behind you makes you jerk away from the coat, face flushing warm. His goofy smile and the dusting of pink on his cheeks tells you that you’ve been caught.

“N-No, it’s not,” you say quickly. “Might be a while before it is, so try not to get that one dirty again soon…”

Rosinante’s smile widens, playful. “I guess that detergent smells pretty good, doesn’t it?”

The detergent you had on hand last night was unscented. He’s messing with you. 

“Cora…” The heat creeps further up your cheeks.

“All sweet and floral,” he continues.

“Cora.”

“Or is it the cigarette smell you like?”

“Rosinante!” you say firmly.

He rubs the back of his neck, grinning apologetically. “Sorry, love. I’m done.” 

The teasing is relatively new, something he didn’t start doing until you became fully comfortable with each other. You’re not used to it yet. It’s a bit frustrating how easily it gets to you, but you also know that on the rare moments you get the nerve to tease him back, he falls apart worse than you do.

Rosinante starts heading your way, but hesitates at the clotheslines strung across the yard. They’re at chest height to him, perfect to get tangled up in. You shake your head as you take down the last of the dry garments. At least he’s self-aware. (If only it was enough to prevent accidents.) You approach him so he doesn’t have to take the risk, and he holds his arms out, offering to take the clothes off your hands.

Rosinante's blushing when you set the bundle in his arms, and he doesn’t move right away, looking down at you with a bashful grin.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I like when you call me Rosinante.”

It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still get a bit flustered, averting your eyes like you haven’t slept together before. The last time he said that, he added, “but it can’t become habit,” concerned that it would potentially give you two away if it slipped out in front of the family.

This time, he must not be worrying about it, because he adds in a lower voice, “I like ‘Rosi’ even better.”

That makes you heat right back up again, and you fidget in place. “I thought you said you were done,” you mutter, poorly suppressing a smile. 

“Ah, that’s right! I’m sorry. You’re just so cute, it’s hard to help.”

You shove your face into the pile of clothes he’s holding to hide the furious blush that must be tinting your skin, muffling your whine. “Rosi…”

“There it is.” He leans over and kisses the back of your head. “Mwah~! Come on, let’s go inside.”

Rosinante insists on folding the laundry, since you did most of the washing. He sits down to work, and you drape yourself against his back, your arms hanging over his shoulders and your face buried into his neck. He’s so tall compared to you that you have to be standing up to do so.

“Aren’t you tired, baby? You don’t wanna sit?” he asks.

“I’m good here,” you mumble, more than content to be close. 

Taking advantage of the fact that your heads are currently level for once, Rosinante turns his head to kiss you, first on your nose, then your cheek, working his way down with soft pecks. Your giggle is cut off when he reaches your lips, his eyes fluttering closed. Responding eagerly, you angle your head for better access, making him hum in satisfaction.

“Don’t let me distract you, Rosi,” you whisper.

“How can I not be when you’re right here?” he whispers back. “Radiant as a star, with none of the family around to disturb your light.”

Given your eye bags and messy hair, you’re not sure where he’s getting ‘radiant,’ but at the same time, you understand–you’ve seen him dirtied, bloodied, and exhausted and still especially found him attractive. But you're not used to such compliments, no matter how often he gives them. The flattery is always overwhelming, because no one's really spoken to you that way before him.

At your doubtful look, Rosinante opens his mouth to add something. You know it's going to be more praise, and you're already blushing, so you shut him up with a kiss, small hands holding his face to pull him right back in.

At some point while he’s folding clothes, you’re suddenly hit by the domesticity of it. In another life, this could be your reality: Mundane. No stakes. No risking your life. Just the day-to-day upkeep that you would share, together. Maybe it’s still possible someday. Maybe, if you’re lucky, this could be your future. You hold him a little tighter at the thought, and his sigh of contentment is like warmth in sound form, melting away doubts and worries.

All that the prior house occupants had left behind in the pantry are an unopened jar of coconut oil, a tin of stale crackers, and some half-empty spice containers, so despite your initial plan to stay in, the two of you decide to go into town for lunch. The weather’s nice for an outing anyway, sunny and temperate with a light breeze. You hold hands as you walk and discuss your plans, settling on getting lunch from a restaurant and then buying some groceries to make dinner yourselves. 

You’ve finished with lunch and are walking to the market when a storefront catches your eye, the rows of transponder snails sitting by the window standing out. They’re arranged in a neat display, though their purpose isn’t immediately obvious, as it doesn’t look like a typical snail-breeding operation. Rosinante encourages your curiosity, and the both of you duck into the store to see what’s going on. The clerk is happy to explain–the snails are actually visual transponder snails available to rent, each one having memorized three films they can project. It’s your first time seeing such a service, and you can’t help but be impressed as you browse the options, each snail resting next to a card with its films listed.

“Three entire films, huh?” you muse, picking up one of the snails and scratching along its shell until it purrs. “That’s pretty impressive. Aren’t you neat, you cute little thing?”

The snail withdraws slightly into its shell, eyestalks still poking out, but it won’t look at you, which makes you giggle. “Aww, Cora, I think it’s shy.”

Rosinante glances at the store clerk, currently a ways away but still within earshot, and then snaps his fingers, creating a small bubble of silence around the two of you. At this point, you recognize the ability when it manifests, though you don’t know why he chose to use it right then, especially so close to a civilian.

“It reminds me of someone,” Rosinante says cheekily, clownish grin stretching when you predictably get flustered. 

So he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the clerk, but still felt that teasing you was necessary enough to risk being seen using his power? Before you can come up with a clever retort or admonishment, however, he drops the bubble, forcing you to keep it to yourself lest you sound like a crazy person. You try to communicate your disapproval with a pointed look, which promptly fails on account of your blush and only serves to make him chuckle.

After you pick out a snail and continue on your way to the market, you’ve calmed down enough that your stern expression actually comes off as stern.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you chide, “taking such a risk just for the sake of teasing me. Really, Corazon…”

“Well, I won’t be able to once we meet up with the family,” he says casually, “I’m trying to get it all out of my system while I can.”

“Is that even possible for you?” you joke as you side-eye him, knowing full well that Rosinante can be a bit… unhinged, at times.

That harlequin grin returns. “Maybe not, but I don’t think you mind nearly as much as you act like you do.”

There was that keen observation of his again. Sometimes you could be apprehensive over just how well he knew you. But other times, on those long nights where you were stuck deep in your own head, and he would just know without you saying a thing, and he would come to your side and wordlessly hold you close–those times reminded you that this was what trust was supposed to be like. Even if a small, dark part of you kept waiting to be taken advantage of, it never happened.

“Even so,” Rosinante adds, “if it’s too much, you know, just say the word. I’ll stop.”

A sharp swell of gratitude in you threatens to form tears, and you look away from him, taking a deep breath to hold it in. What did you do to deserve him? To show you’re not upset, you squeeze his hand, but he still picks up on your distress, lightly returning the pressure.

“Y/n?” he questions.

“I’m okay.” You compose yourself with another breath and smile up at him. “I love you, Rosi. That’s all.”

Rosinante’s cheeks turn a shade of pink that matches the hearts on his shirt. Then, breaking out into a delighted grin, he picks you right off of the ground in a tight hug. You immediately wrap your arms and legs around him in turn, both of you giggling.

“As hard as the mission was,” you say, “I’m glad it was just us two. I’m glad I don’t have to spend my birthday with anyone else.”

“Me too.” Rosinante kisses your cheek, and you push him away half-heartedly.

“You’ll smear your paint again.”

“So what?”

“We’re trying not to stand out, remember?”

His huffy pout is so childish it makes you giggle again. 

“You’re right…”

After you return to the house and put the groceries away, you spend the next hour or so unwinding from the trip. There’s a bookshelf in the living room with a variety of paperbacks, so you take advantage, each picking out one that looks interesting. Rosinante manages to knock the entire bookshelf over somehow, getting pelted by a small avalanche of books. Once you help put them away, the two of you curl up against each other to read on the rather large couch in the living room, big enough to hold even his bulk. The exhaustion from the previous week still lingers, as you both end up falling asleep, you leaning on his broad chest and soothed by the lullaby drumming of his heartbeat.

When you wake up next, you finally feel refreshed. Coming back to consciousness to the feel of his large body against yours is a soul-deep comfort, one you wish you could enjoy more often. If only you didn’t have to hide your relationship… You idly trace formless shapes on his chest, mulling the thought over like you have hundreds of times before, and he begins to stir.

The slight movement draws your attention. Rosinante had passed out hard enough to drool a bit in his sleep, and as you reach up to wipe it from his chin, he grabs your wrist, pulling your fingers to his lips to kiss them sleepily.

“Rest well?” you ask, smiling.

“Mm. Always do, when I’m with you,” he responds, kissing your palm next.

You sigh. “Cora…”

“Something on your mind?” He lowers your hand so he can fix his marigold eyes on yours, searching and curious.

You hesitate, mustering up the courage to share your thoughts. “I was just thinking… If we revealed to Doffy that we’re seeing each other, maybe we could be close more often. Share quarters instead of sneaking around. We could have this every night…”

Rosinante sits up, shifting you to sit onto his lap. He’s pensive, frowning slightly, the look alone making anxious nerves unsettle your stomach. As always, though, he notices, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back to show he’s not mad.

“I have thought about that,” he says after a minute, “but I want to save that information.”

“Save it?”

“As my brother gains momentum, the stakes only continue to rise, as do the risks we take. If we are ever out doing something conspiratorial against him, and, god forbid, he catches wind of it… I want to be able to use our relationship as an alibi. So I can tell him that we were just trying to hide that we’re dating.“

So that was his plan. Moments like these were a sobering reminder of his true nature–ever the cautious spy, strategically manipulating any and all information available to him. You imagine Doflamingo’s response to hearing that. After years spent in his service, it’s not difficult–you can picture his demonic grin clearly in your mind, and how it would widen upon the revelation. ‘A relationship? Why would you hide such a thing from me, dear brother?’

“He’d question why you went to lengths to hide that.”

“But he knows you,” Rosinante says, wiping the drool from his chin with the back of his hand. “He knows you’re shy, and he’s still under the impression I’m reserved. It might be enough to convince him. On the off chance that it could save us…”

You nod, if a bit reluctantly. “I understand.”

His smile is wistful, at first, before he puts on a more confident front, bending over to press his forehead to yours. “I’ll find ways to be close to you, Y/n. No matter what. Okay?”

“Okay.” You cup his face, mindful not to smear the paint, and he wraps his arms around your back. You both stay like that for a while, like you can combat an uncertain future by figuratively and literally holding onto each other. And maybe it’s just because you’re head-over-heels for him, but sometimes, his embrace feels a lot like hope.

You make dinner for the both of you, outright refusing to let him help, knowing no good can come of him being around open flames or knives. After eating, you set up the video transponder snail, settling on the couch to watch the films. By then, Rosinante’s coat has fully dried, and he lets you curl up in it, more like a massive blanket in comparison to your body. He must get a kick out of seeing you practically drowning in the fabric, because he can’t stop giggling to himself as he tucks it around you.

Having not been familiar with most of the films advertised at the store, you had picked out the snail at random. The first film turns out to be enjoyable, a lighthearted but thrilling espionage flick that Rosinante can’t resist making comments on.

“That’s not how that works…”

“It’s just pretend, Rosi.”

“Still-!”

The both of you are lying down by the time the second film starts, your back to his chest, his hand resting on your hip. You’re not really paying this film much attention, focused more on the soft joys of the present: his scent surrounding you, the heat of his body that you can feel even through the coat, the sense of safety you get from being in proximity.

Rosinante must not be paying attention to the film, either, because after a while, he noses into your hair and breathes in deep. A moment later, his lips press to the back of your neck.

“Mm…” You shift a bit. “Rosi?”

“I know you said you don’t want to celebrate your birthday, but…” He doesn’t pull away from your neck to speak, and you can’t tell if the goosebumps that result come from the tickling of his lips on your skin or his deep baritone in your ear. “Can I make you feel good?”

A pulse of excitement runs through you at the husky intent in his voice, but it’s quickly tempered by doubt. It’s not like you haven’t done it before, but you’re self-conscious regardless, since…

“You know I won’t be able to finish,” you remind him. 

It kills you that because of your issue, Rosinante can’t even do that much for you. He’s well acquainted with your struggle by now, and while it’s never stopped him from seeking this type of closeness, you still feel guilty. But it’s like he can sense your shame, because he kisses the back of your neck again as if to soothe your worries.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. “So long as you enjoy yourself.”

That swell of gratitude returns in full force, rising in your chest along with such a strong surge of love that it almost hurts. You roll over to face him. He’s already blushing from the proposition, and you feel the heat start to crawl up your own cheeks.

“I love you so much,” you confess. “Yes, Rosi, you can. I… I want it. I want you…”

That giddy schoolboy grin returns for a moment, and then it changes, becoming something far more subdued and adult, his eyes half-lidding as he cradles your face in both hands.

“Then you’ll have me.”

Rosinante kisses you softly at first, pacing himself like he’s committing the feeling to memory. Then you grab onto the open collar of his shirt, and the tug of fabric triggers something in him, arms wrapping around you as he brings a heat that wasn’t present in any of the sweet kisses throughout the day. You can sense the change, his intent seeming to flow directly into your veins from his mouth like venom, burning you up in a good way. He’s measured, even restrained when he swipes his tongue along the seam of your mouth, only for his breath to hitch when you reciprocate, you parting your lips to curl your smaller tongue around his. His resulting moan comes from deep in his gut, stirring heat in yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he lets go of your face in order to peel his coat off of you, tossing it out of the way and swallowing your little noise of protest before his hands are right back on you, pulling you even closer. You reach up to grab the tails of his hat, eagerly pressing your body against his as you return everything he gives you.

Breaking for air lets him get a good look at your face, flushed and panting, and he curses at the sight of his face paint smeared across your swollen lips.

“Fuck, Y/n… Seeing my paint all messy on you–it does things to me,” he admits breathlessly, pupils blown wide.

“I could say the same,” you smile, as his is smudged just as badly. It would look ridiculous if it wasn’t so hot.

Rosinante kisses you again, open-mouthed and passionate. Given that he’s larger in every way, all parts of him proportionate to his height, even his tongue is that much bigger, filling up your mouth when he thrusts it past your lips. You moan around his tongue, and again when his large hands start to roam your body, greedily feeling you up. The tails of his hat aren’t sturdy enough for your liking, so you pull it off his head and bury your fingers directly into his hair, gripping the blond locks tightly enough to make him groan into your mouth. He starts to kiss and nibble along your jaw, muttering huskily in between each one.

“Could smear it elsewhere,” kiss, “could smear it all over you,” nip, “d’you want that, baby girl?”

“Ah! Rosi, y-yes! Please!”

His low chuckle sends a spike of heat between your legs, another one following when he rolls you onto your back, hovering over your form. “There’s my good girl.”

You whimper at the praise as Rosinante kisses his way down your neck, gliding his hands up and down your sides before hooking them under the hem of your shirt. He peels it up with reverence, like he’s unwrapping a long-anticipated gift, slow and methodical. You raise your arms to help him remove it, then undo the clasp of your bra yourself, figuring he’d only struggle with his large fingers. You let him remove your bra the rest of the way, too, knowing he enjoys disrobing you, though feeling a wave of embarrassment at how he sucks in a breath once your breasts are exposed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, awestruck, and you can’t help but cover your face. He always acts like he’s never seen you naked before.

Rosinante pulls your hands away, kisses you with tongue, then replaces your hands where they were, making you giggle. Then he presses his face between your breasts with a muffled sigh, enjoying the feel of your body for a moment before he shifts himself lower, mouth leaving a stripe of red down your front until his head rests on your stomach. His fingers sink into the doughy flesh of your hips, and you tense only for a moment before relaxing.

“You okay, baby?” he checks in.

“Mhm,” you assure him, “feels good.”

By now, you were used to how Rosinante reacted to your body, but the first time you had been intimate, you froze up at his touches.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you had asked him as he kissed your hip, trailing his lips along a stretch mark.

“Hm?” His eyes, glassy with lust, flicked up to meet yours, making you shiver. “Does what?”

“My, um…” Unable to say it, you grabbed your stomach to illustrate your point.

Rosinante followed your gaze down to your hands. There was a beat where he just blinked, unsure of what you meant, before his eyes widened with realization. Then he blushed even deeper. Tentatively, his hands came to rest over yours on your stomach, and then he gently pulled them away so he could lay his head there instead. 

“Silly girl…”

The way he said it, like he was in on something you weren’t, went straight between your legs. He let go of your hands so he could lecherously squeeze at your thighs again.

“You have no idea…” he whispered, and kissed your stomach with the same veneration of one kissing the foot of a revered statue. “...No idea what you do to me.”

Finding out he liked it–once you got over the initial shyness–had been a major confidence booster, even if it veered on overwhelming at times. Rosinante’s size may have made you weak-kneed if you dwelled on it too much, and his hidden gentleness had its draw, of course, but the sexiest thing about him was just how into you he was.

His lips press to your stomach the same way they did that first time together, and thanks to the sheer size of him, the purr in his throat sounds more like a growl.

“You’re so soft, Y/n…” His tongue dips out to taste your skin.

“Ah!” You squirm. “Rosi-!”

Rosinante’s grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. “Can’t get enough…” He licks his way to the top of your hip, where he starts sucking a bruise that has you whimpering. His hands travel lower to wrap around your thighs, and then, without warning, he suddenly drags you further beneath him, so his head is level with your neck, handling you like the tiny thing you are in comparison. You gasp at how easy it is for him, and again, breathier, when his lips touch your shoulder.

He’s gotten bolder in bed. You would have never imagined it from how cautious he was your first few times together, but Rosinante was keen. This long into your relationship, he’d zeroed in on what you liked–not that you made it all that difficult, reacting rather strongly whenever he manhandled you a little. Sure enough, between that and his earlier kisses, you already feel yourself growing slick.

“Soft,” he repeats, kissing your skin. “Sweet.” His mouth skims along your shoulder until he’s at the curve of your neck. “Like something to be eaten…” He bites into the tender flesh, drawing a moan from you.

“Rosi,” you whine, a little gasp escaping when he starts sucking on the spot. “Mm-! Please! D-Don’t tease me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mutters, then promptly contradicts his words with another gentle bite.

“Rosi!”

“Sorry, baby girl… Hard to help when it makes you sound like that.” He kisses your neck in apology. “I’ll take care of you, promise...”

True to his word, Rosinante pushes you back up the couch so he’s positioned over your hips this time. The removal of your pants and underwear is treated with the same careful devotion that he did your shirt, savoring the act almost as much as what will follow. He doesn’t hesitate once you’re fully nude, immediately kissing your mons despite the soft curls of hair, then kissing your outer lips, groaning with heady anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me,” he directs, the command making you throb. There's something immensely appealing about knowing he could easily do it himself, but having you do as he says anyway. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth when you comply, entranced by the display. “Oh, good girl, so pretty. I’m so lucky…”

Before you have a chance to react shyly to that, he dips his head and licks a broad stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, and your back arches at the electric contact, a small cry slipping out.

“So wet for me,” Rosinante moans. “Tell me if you need to stop, okay?”

With that, he dives back in, warming you up with slow, persistent licks, large tongue spread flat against your entire slit. Only a few seconds in and you’re already whimpering and squirming, prompting him to hook his muscular arms around your thighs to hold you still. The strength in his grip is almost as intoxicating as his enthusiasm, all the shrewd composure he’s forced to uphold for his mission gone, not even an afterthought when presented with the opportunity to indulge himself. He’s like a different person when he’s between your legs, usual modesty replaced by something carnal and hungry.

Rosinante eats you out like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance, shameless and thorough, deftly weaving his tongue between the folds of your inner lips before suckling on them. He gives quick, toying flicks of his tongue along your entrance, teasing the idea but not yet penetrating, and you can’t stop yourself from thrusting slightly into his mouth, which makes him tighten his grip on you.

“Oh-! Oh! Rosi!” you whine, unable to escape the blissful onslaught, fingers digging uselessly at the couch.

He’s noisy about it, too, not just because of the wet, messy slurping, but because he won’t stop moaning against your cunt, like he’s on another plane of being. While he claimed to be doing this for you, you suspect, even despite how incredible it feels, that he’s the one getting more out of this. He doesn’t let up for a single moment. You’re not sure how he’s breathing.

From the very start of your sexual relationship, Rosinante has always had a natural aptitude for giving head, and he’s only gotten better with time. He reads your body effortlessly, attentive nature serving him well for the task, knowing when to be consistent and when to switch it up. He’ll lick in one direction for a while, then, right before you become used to it to the point of the pleasure diminishing, he’ll change direction, interspersing with a new sensation that has your toes curling.

Once he’s decided you’re warmed up enough, he starts being more precise, using the tip of his tongue for more pinpoint stimulation in between the steady, rhythmic licks. Then he licks a long stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit again, except this time, he finishes by circling around your engorged clit. You arch deeper, if possible, as you cry out, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging hard, and he moans even louder. There’s a brief pause where he takes a breath–more of a gasp of your name, really–and then he’s buried his face between your legs again, focusing his attention on your clit, flicking and lapping his tongue at it like it’s his goal to get you to pull his hair out. Your noises, your writhing, the slight pain of your grip on his hair, all of it drives Rosinante mad, self-control slipping as he starts to buck his hips into the couch now and then while he goes down on you.

Right as the attention to your clit becomes too much, he snakes his tongue down and finally penetrates you, licking and undulating along your walls. Thrusting as deep as he can go, he curls his tongue to collect your slick at the source before drawing it back into his mouth to swallow it down, groaning depravedly at the taste. He never slows down, either, tongue-fucking you with a drive bordering on obsessive.

You’re almost as noisy as Rosinante is, now, hopeless to stop each shaky little whimper and moan of his name that he so expertly coaxes out of you. With his relentless pace and excellent attention to detail, it’s only a matter of time before it all becomes overstimulating.

“Rosi,” you gasp, tapping his shoulder. “Rosi, it’s too much.”

He looks a complete mess when he lifts his head, hair disheveled, mouth and chin shiny with slick and drool, almost no face paint left on him, likely all smeared on your vulva–you’ll definitely need a shower later. With the color and thickness of his hair, his reluctant look reminds you somewhat of a golden retriever that’s been called by its owner to leave the dog park. 

“Just a little more?” he asks with an innocence that has no place being there after how he just ate you out.

You giggle, both at that and because this was supposed to be about you, but you’re flattered that he can’t help himself when it comes to your body. “Give me a minute to recover, first. Then you can keep going. But slow down a bit when you do, okay?”

He rests his head on your thigh. “Whatever you need, baby girl. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You lay your head back, catching your breath as you come down. Rosinante busies himself with marking up your inner thighs in the meantime, nibbling and sucking one bruise after another while you stroke his hair appreciatively. Once your nerves have settled, you give him the okay, and he wastes no time getting back to work.

Rosinante adjusts his hold on your thighs and drags your body closer, grinding your cunt right against the flat of his tongue as your fingers find their way into his hair again. He doesn’t stop you from rolling your hips into him, encouraging it with a gratified moan. Pleasure builds back up gradually, only to spike too high when he turns his attention to your clit again.

“Slow, Rosi,” you remind him, and he grunts an affirmative, easing up significantly.

One of his arms unhooks from your thigh, large hand squeezing your rear before he slips it between your bodies. As promised, he moves slowly when he penetrates you with a thick finger, but you still arch from the contact–his fingers are so much bigger than yours, and taking his time means the sensation is drawn out that much longer.

“Oh!” Your gasp is only pleasured, but he checks in anyway.

“This okay?”

“Yesss,” you moan, making him chuckle.

Mindful of your sensitivity, Rosinante pumps his finger at a leisurely, unhurried pace, relishing in each of your twitches and cries.

“What a good girl you are, Y/n,” he praises, then licks along the side of your clit, just once. “Letting me do this to you behind closed doors…” His tongue sweeps over your nub again. “You’re sweet all over, aren’t you, baby?”

He keeps from overstimulating you by breaking up each pass of his tongue with praise, until you don’t know if it’s his mouth or his words that’s making your breath catch in your throat.

“Your moans are so cute.”

“I love how you try to hold back…”

“You don’t need to, Y/n.”

“After all… This is all for me.”

“All mine to see, to hear, to taste. My girl...”

Rosinante curls his finger, and you cry his name. He’s gentle but insistent, sparking little pulses of pleasure through your core. It doesn’t build up much, but you ride it as long as you can, until your enjoyment starts to wane and there’s more friction than you’d like.

“Rosi, I–I need a break,” you tap his shoulder in signal, and he withdraws from you.

“You lasted longer that time,” Rosinante notes, then grabs your thigh and drags you underneath him so he’s at eye level with you again. Despite how he moves you as he pleases, he looks at you like you’re an angel gracing the earth. “You taste so damn good… Want me to show you?” He sticks out his tongue devilishly.

You consent by reaching for his face, pulling him in for a messy kiss that tastes of your slick. He probes his tongue deep, making sure to fill your mouth with the slippery tang. You moan softly in approval, and the thought that you like it turns him on so much he’s bucking slightly again in response. If it wasn’t for the significant height difference, he’d be grinding against you, but with your heads currently level, his hips are below your own.

Rosinante growls into your mouth, hands roaming your body to grab and squeeze as he likes. You can feel the rumble of it in your chest, and along with the dizzying taste of your slick and his covetous groping, you find yourself craving even more of him, like the depth of his need has rubbed off on you. Your hand trails down, reaching for his pants, but alas, he’s too damn tall for you to get any further than his abs. He picks up on it, though.

“You want my cock?” Rosinante whispers huskily, thrusting into the couch again.

“Yes, yes, please, Rosi!” you beg, and he grins at your desperation.

“I thought you needed a break.”

“Don’t be mean! It’s my birthday…” A cheap card to pull, maybe, but you’ll say anything at this point to get what you want.

Rosinante chuckles and kisses you, gently biting your lower lip. “Think it’ll fit this time?”

Even after all of his prior attention, the words pool fresh heat between your legs, an anticipatory shudder running up your spine. “Let’s try?” you ask. “Pretty please?”

“Like I could say no to you.” He kisses you again, groaning when you grind your crotch against his stomach. “Just don’t push yourself if it hurts.”

Rosinante’s eyes glaze over as he watches you hastily unbutton his shirt, taken at your impatience and at how avidly you run your hands down the soft fuzz of his chest once it’s exposed. He’s already undone the button of his pants earlier for some relief from the tightness, and there’s a wet spot on the fabric you don’t miss. He takes enough mercy on you to remove his own bottoms quickly, sliding both off in one motion. His cock springs against his stomach, fully hard and leaking, leaving a smear of precum on his abdomen. Like the rest of him, it’s proportionate to his size, far bigger than anything someone your height was probably meant to take. The length and girth would be more intimidating if it was attached to anyone else, but Rosinante was always mindful of your limits, taking the utmost care anytime you attempted penetration. Still, you can only fight the confines of anatomy so much, and as such, there’s only been a few times that you’ve been able to take him, all of which involved the assistance of lubricant.

Rosinante sits up with his back against the couch, and you eagerly straddle him, scooting forward until your clit’s pressed against the base of his twitching cock. The tip reaches past your navel, promising an incredible stretch if you can manage to fit him.

“Take it nice and slow, okay? Don’t force yourself,” he says as he rests his hands on your hips, helping you position yourself over him. He gasps at your touch when you reach to line him up with your entrance, your fingers not meeting even around the head of his dick.

His energy has changed, all earlier lust now controlled under a tight leash, restrained but brimming beneath the surface. You can feel it in the twitch of his fingers on your hips, and in his shaky breathing as he watches you lower yourself onto him. You both let out a breath when the blunt head of him presses against you. The delicate walls of your entrance are gradually spread wider and wider, stretching to accommodate the intrusion. There’s a dull tinge of pain, one that’s not concerning enough to stop you yet. But despite how wet you are from earlier, it’s still not enough to compensate for his girth, and you find yourself unable to get even the head of his cock fully inside without the friction becoming too painful.

Frustration pushes you to try again. You want him badly, you want to be close in this way, you’ve done it before–you know it’s possible. The resulting pain of your attempt shows in your grimace, making Rosi halt your progress with a firm hold on your hips.

“Baby, stop,” he says, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “It’s not worth it if it hurts you.”

“I’m so close,” you whine. “I know I can do it.”

“You sure?” His thumb strokes your temple. “Listen to your body, Y/n. If it’s too much, there’s no shame in calling it off for today. We can try again next time.”

You make one more valiant attempt with no luck. Since you’ve taken him before, you have an idea of what to expect when it goes right, and this does not feel like one of those times. It just wasn’t going to happen without lube. Sighing, you dismount, trying not to feel too disappointed. Finishing him with your mouth is a fun option, too, but you were looking forward to riding him…

Then you remember something.

“Wait,” your eyes widen in realization, “the coconut oil.”

“Hm?” He tilts his head cutely.

“There was some left behind in the pantry, remember? I’m pretty sure that’s body-safe…”

Rosinante considers it, then shakes his head. “It’s probably contaminated, or expired.”

“I think it’s still sealed.”

“Is it?” He blinks for a moment, like he can’t believe the luck. Then he jumps to his feet with a hastiness that betrays his excitement, only to slip on nothing and fall hard on his ass. Undeterred, he hops right back to his feet, but is stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

“Nuh-uh, you stay here. I’ll get it,” you assert, picturing him retrieving the jar only to wipe out and let it shatter onto the floor. If that happened you might actually cry.

“I understand,” Rosinante says. You meet each other’s eye and immediately know you’re picturing the same thing, making you both break into giggles. Rosinante pulls you in for a kiss before plopping back down onto the couch, his dick bobbing enticingly from the action. “You gonna stare or you gonna hurry it up, then?”

Caught, you can only flash him a playful grin before you dart into the kitchen. (Wandering through someone else’s home nude always feels a bit awkward, but knowing it’s been abandoned helps ease the discomfort somewhat.) The coconut oil is unrefined, thankfully. Bringing it back to the couch, you scan the label to make sure it’s still in date. The lid is stuck tightly enough to prove it’s still sealed, resisting your attempts to open it until Rosinante twists it off in one easy motion that has you staring at his flexing forearms. He sniffs the contents before offering it to you to inspect. It smells light and faintly sweet, and the pure white color along with the smooth consistency reassures you that it’s safe.

You straddle Rosinante again. He’s so broad your legs don’t reach the couch when you do, but his muscular thighs are sturdy enough that it doesn’t matter. He bites back a whine when you start applying the coconut oil, bucking into your hands.

“Oh, shit. Your hands are so warm,” he moans.

“I’m even warmer on the inside,” you joke.

His chuckle breaks into a gasp when your hand passes over the head of his cock. You keep eye contact while you work, reveling in the flushed, needy way he watches you, this giant of a man now putty in your hands.

“You need–mm, fuck–you need some, too,” he pants, dipping two fingers into the jar and prompting you to raise your hips. Slick with oil, both of his thick fingers slip inside you without resistance, causing you to grab his forearm for stability as pleasure buzzes through you like static. He fingers the oil in deep, eyes half-lidding as you grind into his palm. “There you go…”

While Rosinante seems content to watch you fuck yourself on his hand, you have no intention of getting this messy only to not go all the way.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, come on,” you insist, and he curls his fingers teasingly before he withdraws them just to hear you moan. He wipes the excess oil on his hips before grabbing hold of yours, helping you position yourself again.

“Take it slow,” he says softly, watching your face for signs of pain.

The lube makes a world of difference, eliminating that threshold of friction that stopped you before. Holding your breath seems involuntary, an instinctive response to the feeling of your walls gloving the broad head of his dick. The stretch seems endless as you gradually lower yourself, slick flesh sliding past with little resistance until you’re spread impossibly wide around the first few inches. Rosinante reminds you to breathe through gritted teeth, his strained expression telling you just how good it feels. You don’t need the added motivation, plenty resolved to keep going for the euphoric stretch alone, but knowing it’s just as good for him only makes it better. A helpless little whimper falls out as you take a few more inches, holding onto his forearms for support. He’s thicker toward the tip, so once you conquer the first half, the rest is a matter of patience rather than struggle.

“Gods, Rosi,” you breathe, legs trembling as you work your hips in little up-and-down motions to open yourself further. “You’re so big. So big...”

Rosinante moans, head falling back on the couch. “Oh, fuck. Say it again.”

“You’re so big, Rosi!” Your eyes roll back as you sink another inch, his girth stretching you to your very limit until, finally, he’s more or less bottomed out. There are a few inches of him still left out, beyond what you can physically fit, but the fact that you can manage to take the majority of him at all is an amazing feat on its own.

You stay still for a moment, basking in the bliss of being filled near to bursting, the taught stretch of your walls shooting hot pulses of sensation through your pelvic floor without him moving. Even the slight edge pain feels incredible, cutting through the pleasure and keeping you grounded and aware of everything you’re feeling.

“You are warm,” Rosinante says, and even with him essentially in your guts, you can’t help but giggle. He shifts just slightly, but the slick movement inside you has you gasping and clenching down hard, making him groan and tighten his grip on your hips. He bends down to press his forehead against yours, lust morphing his expression into being both broken and ravenous as he looks into your eyes.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands breathily, almost against your lips.

“It feels so good!” you moan without shame. “Rosi, it feels so good.”

“There’s my girl.” He splays his fingers over your abdomen, feeling the distinct bulge of himself through the flesh with a pleased hiss. “You look so damn good like this. Love the sight of you stuffed full of my cock.”

You clench at the words and rock your hips forward, making you both moan in tandem, and again when you start steadily moving up and down his length. His hands on your hips keep you stable, supporting but not guiding your movements, letting you go at your own pace while he mutters filth in your ear.

“Can’t believe you took all of me… What a greedy little cunt you have, Y/n. Such a good girl, opening up for me…”

Rosinante kisses you roughly, drawing messy stripes on your tongue while you fuck yourself on his cock. You try to pay it back once he pulls away, praises spilling from your lips when you have enough presence of mind to do something other than whimper. But where Rosinante can dish it out, it seems he cannot not take it, because after only a few enamored ravings of how big he is and how good he feels, he’s suddenly stuffing two fingers in your mouth to silence you.

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll cum too soon,” he rasps, but it immediately backfires when you start sucking on his fingers, making him twitch and curse. “Fuck! Little demoness, you like that too?”

He’s plugging your mouth with the fingers that were inside you earlier, and maybe it’s just because of the sex high, but the lingering taste of yourself alongside the sweetness of the coconut oil combines into something incredible. You let him know with a moan, sliding the tip of your tongue between and around his fingers as he presses down on the back of it.

Your body’s more adjusted to him now, letting you ride him harder and faster. His gaze flicks between your fucked-out expression, a little drool trailing from the corner of your lips, to the point where your bodies meet, watching himself disappear in your heat. After the rigors of the mission, you can’t maintain the pace for very long, tiring earlier than you normally would–unfortunately, your stamina can’t keep up with your need, but Rosinante always has plenty to spare.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a wet gasp. “Rosi, I need help. Please–”

“I got you, baby girl.”

He adjusts his grip on your hips, getting a more secure hold so he can lead your movements rather than just guide them. The passing of control to him is unspoken, an agreement given with intent gazes instead of words. You feel completely safe in giving yourself to him fully, letting your tired legs relax as he takes over, and in turn, he’s careful in the way he bounces you on his length. He sets a faster pace than how you were taking him, but doesn’t go as hard as you’d like–thankfully, at this point in your relationship, you’re better at communicating your needs.

“Harder, Rosi,” you pant, “I need it harder.”

The brief flash of his grin is your only warning before one of his hands wraps around your thigh and yanks you further down onto him, spearing his length in as deep as it’ll go. The breath is knocked out of you as his cockhead nudges your cervix, but the intensity with which you clamp down on him, along with your full-body shudder, tells him all he needs to know.

“You even like that, huh? You like when I use you like a plaything. Filthy, needy girl…”

You cry out in agreement as Rosinante takes you harder, thrusting up into you while pulling you down to meet his hips. The furrow in his brow and the grit of his teeth indicates he’s close and trying to hold out, tapping into that crazy willpower of his in order to please you for as long as he can. Each deep thrust works you further into a blissful haze, coiling pleasure in your gut until you can barely keep your head up–you can barely do anything aside from moan. He tilts your chin up with one finger, slowing down slightly so he can steal another kiss. Neither of you can maintain it very long with you both breathing heavily from exertion, but you stay close, lips parted and panting against each other.

You go from bracing your arms on his chest, to his shoulders, to raking your nails down the scarred expanse of his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers. His gaze is fixed on yours, and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. Even with his pupils blown wide and his eyes half-lidded, it’s every bit as adoring as it always is in private, but there’s something deeper to it now. It’s in the years of him having watched your back, it’s in the long process that was the gradual lowering of your defenses, it’s in getting to the point you could be so mutually vulnerable, it’s in wanting to make each other feel good out of love and nothing else. You wished you could exist in this moment forever, just to be close in the ultimate way.

No matter how good Rosinante feels, it never builds right. You wish you could cum. You want to experience that with him. But at the same time, you know he won’t be upset with you for it. And so, when you inevitably feel the pleasure start to wane in a way that indicates oncoming discomfort, you feel no shame in speaking up.

“I can’t… Rosi, I can’t go much longer.”

Rosinante immediately slows down. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I–I want you to cum.”

His eyes darken, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Where do you want it, baby girl?”

“Inside.”

You can feel his dick twitch when you say it, and he rests his head on your shoulder with a low groan.

“Fuck. Okay. Sure, I can do that for you.”

Rosinante plants a sloppy kiss on your neck before turning toward the long end of the couch, gently laying you back without pulling out. He repositions you both into a more comfortable missionary, resting his burly arms above you.

“This feel okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, s’good.” You raise a hand to touch his cheek. “This way I can see your face when you cum.”

Got him. It took all day, but you finally turned the tables for once, and the result is a wonderful sight to behold. Even flushed with exertion, the blush across his face deepens to a shade you’ve rarely seen before, his jaw going slack. To his credit, he recovers quickly, bringing a hand to cup yours on his cheek and grinning down at you.

“Guess I deserved that after all of today.” He turns his head to kiss your hand. “I won’t be much longer, but stop me if you need to, yeah?”

“I will.”

“Good girl.”

Rosinante lets go of your hand to trail it down your side, settling on your hip to anchor you in place as he starts thrusting. He’s only slow for the first few thrusts, quickly working himself back up to a firm, brisk pace. Having held out until now, it doesn’t take him long to get back to the edge, evident by the way his groans deepen and intersperse with broken gasps. Just as erotic as the sound of him is the sight of him, abs flexing as his huge body rolls into you. It’s enough to spark your weary nerves back to attention, dragging the pleasure out one last time. 

“Fuck, it’s so good,” he moans, “always so tight, every damn time.”

Rosinante curls over you like he can’t hold himself up anymore, his head pressed to your shoulder, but it doesn’t slow the pounding of his hips at all, nor does it stop him from singing your praises into your ear.

“My sweet girl, so good to me. Love you so much, love that you’re mine…”

The husky devotion with which he says it has you throwing your head back onto the cushions and arching into his thrusts, whimpering when it angles him perfectly into your g-spot. The sound must trigger something in him, because his talking plummets from praise into filth faster than an angel falling from grace.

“You’re right, Y/n. We should tell my brother about us. That way I could fuck you every night, ‘til I’ve molded you to the shape of my cock. You’d get so used to it I wouldn’t need to hold back, and you’d fucking love the process, wouldn’t you? Begging me to fuck your pussy even though you can barely take it. We could even fuck in the room right next him and thanks to my power, he’d never even hear you screaming my name.”

“Rosi!” you cry, throwing your arms over what part of his back you can reach and digging your nails in. “Don’t you dare hold back! Give me everything, right now!”

It’s not a request he’s ever really granted you, but drunk as he currently is on the pleasures of your body–and maybe because it’s your birthday–he relents this once. A deep, uncharacteristic growl rumbles in his chest as his thrusts turn brutal, one arm braced above your head. His other hand’s wrapped around your thigh to keep you from bouncing off him from the force, ironlike grip keeping you in place so he never slips out. For a short but wonderful amount of time, you’re at the mercy of the brunt of him, just like you’d asked. At no other time does the scope of his size come into perspective like when he’s throwing all that weight behind his thrusts, three meters of solid muscle bullying your insides. It hurts a bit, but you’re treated to the incredible sight that is Rosinante on the edge, gritting his teeth and groaning like a beast, completely lost to higher thought.

“Gonna cum,” he gasps, and then he’s chanting your name like a sacred incantation, each time a little louder. His pace stutters, grip on your thigh tightening, and he pulls you down on him one last time, thrusting as deep as he can go and staying there with a penultimate moan. You can feel his length throb and pulse as he releases, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

For a minute, neither of you move, catching your breath and weakly holding each other. Then he pulls out, the absence feeling like a gaping loss as much as a relief. He has just enough presence of mind to collapse next to you rather than on top of you, trembling with what must be little aftershocks. A gentle touch to his cheek grounds him, making him blink and focus on you. He breaks into a dopey grin, pulling you close.

“You’re perfect.” He kisses you softly, all traces of roughness vanished. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You beam, somewhat giddy after having your craving sated so thoroughly. He’s no better off, giggling and kissing you again.

The post-orgasm clarity must hit him around then, because his face suddenly falls, levity turning to concern in an instant.

“Oh, shit! Oh, Y/n, are you okay?” He cradles your face in his hands, inspecting you as if it was your face that endured any of it. “I’m so sorry–I got a bit rough there, and we never went over a safe word–does anything hurt?”

“I’m okay, Rosi!” You cover his larger hands with yours, rubbing your thumbs across the back like he does for you when you’re stressed. “It hurt a little, but I would have stopped you if I didn’t like it.”

That helps him relax somewhat, though the worry doesn’t fully leave him. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not much. Might be sore later. Nothing I can’t handle.”

It takes some more reassurance before he’s satisfied, listening to you soothe his concerns while he massages your hips and thighs. You help each other come down, sometimes with touches, sometimes with soft words, sometimes just holding one another close and listening to the sounds of your breathing. You can only ignore the aftermath for so long, however, in this case being the trickle of his cum down your thigh.

“It is far too late for me to be realizing this,” you say, “but we forgot to put a blanket down, and now there’s stains on the couch…”

“Yeah,” Rosinante says, “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t feel bad at all.”

You snicker. “A pirate’s a pirate, huh?”

“Actually, that’s the Marine side of me.”

“No way. Pirates fuck way more than Marines.”

“I have news for you about shore leave.”

You mirror his grin. “You can tell me all about it, but I’d prefer a demonstration.”

“I bet you would.” He pulls you in for a kiss.

The last movie had long since played and ended without your noticing–thankfully, the snail put itself to sleep after the end of the movie (you sure hope so, anyway.) The shower isn’t large enough to fit both of you, so you take turns, each helping wash the other from outside the tub. While Rosinante’s no worse for wear, you benefit more from the hot water, easing your tension while he runs his hands over your sore muscles in an echo of his earlier worship.

After you’ve both cleaned up, you rehydrate with some tea before bed, sitting in his lap at the kitchen table and talking.

“Rosinante?” 

“Hm?”

You turn in his lap so you can look at him clearly. “Thanks for today. I really enjoyed my birthday. Probably for the first time in a long time.”

His smile lights up the room, and he hugs you tight, pressing his face into your hair. “I’m so glad!”

You giggle. “This is kind of dumb, but I kind of wish I had a cake after all.”

Rosinante pauses. When he lifts his head, his expression is hard to read, some odd mix of contemplative and sheepish that you can’t discern.

“Rosi?” you ask.

“Um…”

“What is it?”

He glances to the side. “...Well… I actually got a little cake this morning, but I dropped the box it was in when I fell… It’s still in the fridge.”

You sit up straighter. “Wait, seriously?”

“Don’t get excited! It’s totally ruined, at least in appearance. Still edible, but I was so embarrassed I didn’t want to say anything…”

You’re sliding off his lap before he finishes his sentence, going to see for yourself. Sure enough, there’s a little box shoved in the back of the fridge that you didn’t notice. It’s bent in a few places, and the clear plastic window on top of the box is smeared on the inside with cream, blocking your view of the damage.

Rosinante covers his face as you open the box. It’s a disaster; the layers of the cake are in different places, the whipped cream frosting is more on the inside of the box than on the cake itself, and the fruit pieces that must have been a beautiful outer decoration are now scattered. It’s hard not to laugh at the chaos of it, but you manage for his sake, especially considering the circumstances. The thought that he got up early after a tiring mission in order to find a bakery for you is more than a little overwhelming, and you know you’ll cry if you dwell on it too much. You’d take a dropped cake over a flawless one any day if it was coming from him.

“For the record, Rosi,” you say, “I think it’s perfect.”

There’s no way to cut a uniform slice out of the cake, so you fork a piece directly from the mess. It’s delicious, fresh and not too sweet, and even though Rosinante doesn’t care for baked goods, your pleased look convinces him to try it, too.

There’s some symbolism there, something about appearances and damage and sweetness in spite of it all, but for once, you don’t overthink it.

Rosinante has one last surprise for you when you snuggle into bed, getting your attention once you’ve settled in. “I had an idea,” he says.

“What about?”

“It would be a few days late for your birthday, but… I looked into the next island we’re going to stop at. Apparently, it’s famous for its zoo. And, you know, Law told me he’s never been to a zoo before.” He gauges your reaction, hesitant. “...I’d love to take you and the kids.”

Your love of animals didn’t escape his notice either, then. You smile at that, though it falters. “Sounds kind of like a date… What will we tell the others?”

“I won’t say anything. You will mention the zoo in front of the kids. Law will pretend not to want to go, but Baby 5 and Buffalo will jump at the idea, and he’ll end up tagging along. I’ll accompany you all as a ‘bodyguard.’ There’s a chance others in the family will want to come, but it could still be nice.”

It does sound nice. Even if you won’t be able to hold hands as you go, even if you’ll have to keep up pretenses–he’ll still be there, and the two of you will know the true meaning behind the visit. That’s more than enough.

Rosinante’s presence alone has always been enough, but the little ways in which he’ll go out of his way for you serve as comforting reminders of his devotion. It’s not as easy to harbor doubts when he always shows up to chase them away.

“I’d love to go with you, Rosi.” You scoot backwards until his chest is against your back, solid and warm as always. His arm automatically drapes across your body to bring you just a bit closer, and you both drift off like that–sated, secure, and looking forward to the coming days.

[mamoonde]

thinking about wcz seeming the "calmer/less reactive" parent (and he usually is) so wwx typically confided in his dad more... until wwx tells his dad "offhandedly" about his cool new friend in school who's really smart and funny and "perfect-looking, honestly" for over an hour, to which, wcz just "hmm"s and "ahh"s and "i see"s from where he's "tinkering w a talisman" (but has actually ruined the paper with huge blobs of ink).

wwx retires to his room with a, "we're gonna be best friends, i can tell!" and wcz chokes out a, "uh-huh, that's nice, a-ying."

and the moment the door closes, wcz dashes out of the study to where cssr is rush-ironing out their formal robes for the conference tomorrow (like he knew she would even though he'd reminded her about it everyday for the past 2 weeks) and blurts out in a panic, "A-YING IS IN LOVE!"

CSSR: He is? Really? And he told you that?? WCZ: Well, no, not exactly, he claims to wanna be this boy's best friend, but- CSSR: so why are you freaking out about this? it's just a friend- WCZ: No, you don't understand, he's your son, he had that look and- CSSR: Hey, what's that supposed to mean?! WCZ: He talked about the boy's 'perfect hair' for 15 mins and every other way he's perfect for the rest of the hour. CSSR: Oh. Huh. He is my son then. Who's the boy? Did he say? Maybe we can look him up! WCZ: No, he didn't, but that's not the point! A-Ying, our baby!!! Is in love!!!?!?!! CSR: And? WCZ: And!! He'll want to marry the boy!!! And move out!!! And never wanna see us again!!!! 😭 CSSR: Hold your horses there, buddy. If they do get married, which I imagine isn't going to be any time soon, I will demand visits, especially with the grandchildren- WCZ: Grandchildren!?!??!?! Nooo, not my baby!!! He's still too young for such things! CSSR: Our boy is almost 20, baba. WCZ: Yes, but he's our boy 🥺 CSSR: And he always will be, but remember, we weren't that much older when we made him- WCZ: Cangse...! CSSR: -and anyway, if you're feeling the empty nest now, we could always make another... 😘 WCZ: 😳 A-ahem. You should, uh. You'll burn our robes again.

Much Later in the Wei Household

CSSR pats WCZ's hand where it lay on her bare stomach. "There, another one cooking."

WCZ snorts. "Your period starts in two days, love, I highly doubt it."

"Spoilsport." CSSR blows a raspberry at him, then sighs with a smug smile. "Wait 'til I tell Qiren about this! We may not be Lans, but we Weis do fall pretty hard, you know." She boops his nose.

WCZ smiles. "That we do."

[mera-k1]

I love your last request about the positions AAAA TKM!! Kdns can I request something similar for kanata, anne and maybe yuto?) >^< pls

i added a bunch of other characters as well so enjoy~!

Fav Positions Pt 2

Various Paralive x gn!reader

-smut, yuto w/ no hancho!!

anne prefers to be on top but doesn't really mind what position. they love to tease you though so as long as they can tease you, any position is okay with them. they're always down to try out new positions as well!

kanata is simple. he likes missionary because it feels the most intimate to him. he loves being close to you and he feels safe and comfortable when you're that close to him. he won't let go and has to slide his hand into yours to hold it while he fucks you.

i don't think nayuta has a preference, it's whatever you enjoy! you like him being on top? sure, he doesn't mind missionary or any other position you might have in mind. you prefer to be on top? okay! he doesn't mind cowgirl!

zen prefers the lotus position. i honestly have no reasoning for this other than gut feeling. he just seems like he'd love having you so close to him, it feels intimate. he can hold your waist and kiss your face if he wants to at any point. zen enjoys intimacy when it comes to sex!

satsuki has no preference since he's very inexperienced. he enjoys whatever you enjoy usually so if you asked him his favorite, he's not really sure. he does get hella embarrassed just seeing you naked but he finds himself wanting to look at you even if he has to look away to hide his flustered face.

a very sweet guy, yuto likes missionary just for the fact that it's easy and versatile. he can hold your hand, kiss you, touch your body, and a whole lot of other things. he likes making you the center of attention when it comes to sex so this is the perfect position for him.

ryoga is a rough and brute-like guy. he doesn't really understand the concept of being gentle with his partner sometimes and that's part of the reason i think his favorite would be the mating press. he just really enjoys being able to bend you in half against the mattress but he tries really hard to listen to your pleas to be gentler even if he's not sure how to be yet.

[slytherinshua]

　　　tws masterlist ⟡₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡ = author's pick !

　　　　junghwan

nothing yet . . .

　　　　dohoon

your racing thoughts ⋆˙⟡

genre: hurt/comfort. | wc: 556

　　　　youngjae

nothing yet . . .

　　　　hanjin

nothing yet . . .

　　　　jihoon

nothing yet . . .

　　　　kyungmin

nothing yet . . .

[froggibus]

Sweet Dreams - Zenyatta

Pairing: Zenyatta x reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 500

Summary: after a restless night, your partner knows exactly how to get you to sleep

CW: fluff, insomnia, sleepless nights, cuddling, domestic! fluff, zen is adorable

i am SICK rn but I have a few days off work so expect some (probably misspelled) content? also finally got a zen request so im working on that rn too. enjoy <3

————

The clock on your nightstand read 2:00am, but you were yet to sleep. At first, it was only because you couldn’t get your mind to stop racing, but the more tired you got, the more paranoid you were. 

The shadows casted by the streetlight outside your window seemed to be out to get you. Every dark corner held monsters beyond your imagination. The only solace was the man sleeping next to you.

Well, sleeping wasn’t quite the right term. Recharging was more like it. Being an omnic meant he didn’t need to sleep or eat or breathe, but still he shared a bed with you and recharged during the hours you slept. 

It was his way of adding some domesticity to the strange life the two of you lived. 

You sat up, tugging your hair out of your face and groaning. You were already so tired, your eyelids growing heavier with every minute that ticked by. 

“Y/n, why are you still awake?”

You froze at the voice next to you, turning to look at him in the darkness. The lights on his head were glowing softly and the sight comforted you slightly. 

“I-I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “Did I wake you?”

“You can’t wake what does not sleep.”

You nod slowly, the guilt on your chest being lifted. “You can go back to recharging now. I’ll be alright.”

He reached out his arms, warm metal wrapping around you. You melt into the comfort of his arms, breathing in his familiar scent. 

“Come with me,” he says, sitting up. He’s wearing a pair of baggy black sweatpants, silver metal glinting in the moonlight. 

You nod, and follow after him down the hall and into the kitchen. He puts a pot of water on the stove, and gestures for you to sit down on the couch. 

You settle into the plush cushions, pulling a throw blanket over your lap. He sits next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, allowing you to lean into him. 

“What can I do for you, my dear?”

His voice is melodic, his touch gentle and forgiving. 

“Talk to me, please,” you murmur. 

He starts to tell you a story. A story of two brothers—dragons—and the rivalry that caused a permanent rift between them. The smooth sound of his voice mixed with the water boiling in the background casting a sleepy fog over you. 

Before you know it, he’s scooping you off of the couch and bringing you back to your shared bedroom. 

“Stay here,” he says, “I’ll be back.”

You settle into the blankets and watch the hallway for his return, seeing him come in a few moments later with a mug of steaming tea. 

He hands it to you carefully before getting comfortable in bed next to you. 

You smell the tea, “is this chamomile?”

“To help you sleep.”

Your face flushes, “thank you.”

“Anything for my love.”

You sip the tea while he tells you another story, and the time flies by. Before you know it, you’re done the entire cup and your racing thoughts have settled. 

Zenyatta pulls the comforter over your shoulders and places a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

masterlist

[ticklygiggles]

Can I ask Zen (Mystic messenger) x reader, romantic 🧚‍♂️✨ I just love him so much and I miss him 😞

Thank you so much, no pressure! Love your blog <33

[You & I event - entries closed!]

A/N: Thank you very muuuch! I'm happy you enjoy my blog hehe. And omg I miss the mystic boys so much too! I've been wanting to play again, but mystic is so draining omg. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

Words: 1k+

You weren't the jealous type. You knew perfectly well that Zen had many fans who loved him unconditionally, whether it was because of his talent or his beauty or both. You loved Zen too, not just for what everyone saw, but also for everything he really was. His fears and insecurities, his joys, dreams and goals, you had the joy of enjoying that and more. It was simply unnecessary to feel jealous when you had a Zen that no one knew. 

But you were also human and, famous or not, Zen was your beloved boyfriend, so maybe it was normal to feel a little jealous from time to time, right? Especially when certain ladies had no shame. 

It was a little cold that day, but you and Zen decided to have a small picnic on his day off. Zen was excited, it had been a long time since he had the opportunity to enjoy a whole day with you and you were too. You had missed him and you hoped to enjoy that picnic until the last moment. 

Everything was going well. Zen had decided that the theme of your picnic would be autumn, your outfits matched, and the coffee was still hot. Many photos had been taken and there was still time before leaving. Everything was perfect, until you noticed a group of girls sitting right next to you two.

At first you didn't care about it, you had a lot of other things to do with your boyfriend, but after a while, you couldn't help but notice the furtive glances they were giving to Zen. Their eyes shone when they saw him and they giggled like silly girls, whispering who knows what to each other. 

Maybe because you hadn't spent quality time with Zen in a while, these girls' behavior made you a little angry. And that possessive side that usually didn't come out, vibrated inside you. It was pretty obvious that you and Zen were in a relationship, but if these ladies didn't realize it, then you were more than happy to show them. 

"You look so handsome today," you said, loud enough for the girls to hear you. "These colors really suit you."

Zen looked at you with bright eyes, the most adorable blush spreading across his cheeks. "A-Ah, jagiya, you already said that! You just want to make me feel shy, don't you?" He giggled shyly, covering his beautiful smile with one of his hands. 

You smiled tenderly, grabbing his hand and chuckling when the ladies gasped. 

"I'm just telling the truth, Zenny. You are so handsome, how can I be so lucky to date someone like you?"

Zen laughed, his fair skin getting more pink as he held your hand back. "N-Nohow, why are you acting like this? Do you want my face to explode? Really, you!" He hid his smile with his free hand and you pouted. 

"Why do you keep hiding your smile, hmm?" You reached out to squeeze his side, making him squeal as he brought his arm down. "I want to see it!" You said, squeezing him again. 

"Ahahaha! J-Jagiyahah! Stohop teheasing me! You know I'm very ticklish!"

Your cheeks flushed. Oh, how could he be so adorable?! He would basically brush it off whenever someone complimented him, but if you did, he would become a blushy, giggly mess like this. 

You almost forgot that you were putting on a show for your spectators, you smirked, letting go of Zen's hand to grab his thin waist, making him squeak and giggle brightly as you started tickling him. 

"Ah, you certainly are very ticklish, huh? I think it just slipped my mind!" 

"N-Nohoho! Hohohonehehey! This ihihis unfahahair!" He giggled, trying to fight your tickly hands, but failing miserably as he fell on his back against the beautiful blanket under you both. 

"This is your fault, Zenny. You were hiding your precious smile from me! Now, I deserve to see it." Your hands traveled to his ribs and he kicked his legs with a cackle. 

"Not thehehere, nohohot there! You've seheheheen my s-smihihile!" He grabbed your arms, weakly pushing at them. "Nohohot my rihihibs plehehease!"

You giggled at his reaction. You were being gentle, just squeezing and poking here and there, but Zen was simply too ticklish for his own good. Agh, you needed to take a picture of his cute laughing face! 

"I have, indeed, but now I want to see it even more! Should I tickle you up here?" 

Zen shrieked when one of your hands moved higher, from his ribs towards his armpit. He pressed his arms tightly to his sides, not wanting to give you any space to climb to his weakest spot.

Zen shook his head, laughing nearly hysterically. "Plehehease! Anywhehehere but thehehere! Y-You knohohow I cahan get pretty lohohoud! Plehehease, Jahagiyaha!" 

You laughed, moving your hands back down to tickle his ribs. "Stop being so cute! You'll make me want to tickle you even more!" 

"I'll dihihihie!" 

Despise your words, your fingers actually slowed down until they stopped completely, and as Zen caught his breath, you leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. He had to pull apart quickly, however, feeling breathless after laughing so much.

"You okay, baby?" You ask softly, brushing his bangs back. "Do you need some water? Let me just- haah! Z-Zen!"

You squeaked in surprise when Zen suddenly grabbed your waist and changed positions, now him hovering you with a wide smirk. You gulped, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

"Now, silly baby, don't think I didn't notice you were doing all of that because those girls were looking at us."

You quickly looked over at the girls and were surprised when you found they were gone! You had completely forgotten about them while you were tickling Zen! How disappointing. 

You huffed, trying to ignore the heat covering your cheeks as you looked back at him. "They were look at you and, I remind you, you are mine." 

His cheeks surely turned red and he stuttered a bit before he spoke again: "O-Of course I'm yours! And that's why you don't have to feel jealous! You're acting silly and for that…" 

"N-Nohohahaha! I'm sorry! I'm sohohohorry!" 

Zen chucked, "oh, yes you will very sorry right after I'm done with you!" 

You deserved it, but it didn't matter, Zen could tickle you until he was satisfied because at the end of the day, he was yours and you were his! 

[fl3shm4id3n]

When I saw you request open I felt a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time (happiness) it’s almost disgusting…anyway how about Guardians of the Galaxy reader (she looks like Gamora) and sully family (and everybody just amazed about her green skin and colorful hair)

ₗₐdy Fᵣₒₘ ₛₚₐcₑ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚���𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 ��𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

ꜱᴜʟʟʏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ x ᴢᴇɴ-ᴡʜᴏʙᴇʀɪ ᴍᴜᴛᴀᴛᴇ! ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: not much just past fights but mainly just planotic kind of love and fluff

A/N: It's okay to feel that way, I sometimes feel that way to. Believe it or not I've been planning on writing a fic with a Gamora like reader, just didn't know how or when, I'm glad you sent your request♡. I'll gladly receive any feedback.

Masterlist

You have traveled all over the galaxies for years, as much as you loved it, you grew bored of constantly traveling place to place. You just wanted to settle down for a while. You had landed on a planet known as Pandora, it was a nice planet to be in. Lots of green, something you barely saw in other galaxies.

You had come across Norm who was out in his Avatar exploring, he thought you were at threat at first, but you showed him that you came in peace. One thing that had caught his attention was how your skin was green and how your hair was from a dark color to another color.

Norm then took you to meet Max, who was also surprised as Norm was. He shouldn't really be surprised since he was surrounded by giant blue cats. You got to know them a bit, you learned that they were scientist and about why they were a few left. While you talked, you where then introduced to some kids, a human boy, and three blue kids that were exactly like Norm in his avatar.

At first they didn't know how to react since they had never seen anyone like you, but the youngest one known as Tuk had been the one to ask questions about you. She was also very curious, she'd often touch the marking on your face and touch your hair, you allowed her to since she was a child and was curious just like any other kids.

That was when the rest of the kids began to ask questions as well. Where were you from? How many galaxies have you seen? Is their more species like them? They asked and asked, of course you answered. Just like them, you had asked them things, such as their names, Where they lived, If they had more siblings, etc. You learned that the three na'vi kids were actually related, and they had a much older brother. Spider had been the only human to be born in Pandora and was left behind due to being.

After they took out into the forest, they wanted to show you around since you were new to this planet. They should you everything that Pandora had to offer, from the Ikra to the floating mountains and so on. This planet was much better than you would of thought, all your life you just used to seeing cities made out of metal and over populated planets, but this? Who wouldn't want to see this.

Then you go introduced to their parents, at first they weren't so sure about you, but you showed them your good will. Just like the kids, Jake, Neytiri and Neteyam were surprised by your green skin and hair. Jake wasn't really as surprised as when seeing you, since he was living and literately became a giant blue cat. It was obvious that their was other kinds of species in the galaxy.

Just like the kids, Jake has asked you where you were from and for how long you have going around the galaxy. It was kind of weird to explain since depending on how long you've been around the galaxies, time works differently. You also knew a bunch of different languages due to your time in other planets and stuff.

During your stay, you got to learn about both the na'vi and humans, how they both interacted but not all the na'vi were trusting of the humans due to some past conflict, but they seemed to be living in peace. They were other humans around the Planet, but those were the humans that the Na'vi would kill due to the harm they're still causing to the na'vi.

Even though the na'vi weren't advances like other species, they were very wise, if not wiser. Since you were staying here for a while, might as well learn their ways. The language was easy to pick up, since then you began to speak in na'vi instead of English. Both Humans and Na'vi spoke the same language, but some na'vi also knew English, but prefer to speak in their native language.

Another thing was how the Omaticaya were interested in learning about you, mainly the children since they had never seen another species like you. They thought you were a human at first but they realized that humans didn't have green skin or colorful hair.

They'd ask if you had any stories you could share from your travels, you did tell them about almost everything that you did while traveling. From being locked away, then broke out, you meeting other and so on. They were very interested in the stories. Besides stories, they had asked if they could play with your hair, you allowed. They'd braid and add beads onto your hair, even though you had messy braids, you wouldn't take them off.

You've come to realize that the kids had the kids had become attached to you in a way. Some would call you Tsmuke or Sa'nok, you had grown to care for the kids and the Omaticaya people, that you didn't want to leave Pandora for sure.

[brighteststar707]

OMGGG CONGRATS ON 2 YEARS OF THIS BLOG !!!! I can't believe it's been that long already, I'm so excited for you and I'm SO excited your requests are open !!! 💖💖💖💖💖

I would love number 18 : hello/goodbye hugs that linger with Zen and an afab Reader 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖 if that's okay !! Thank you for everything you do, and we're all so excited for you !!! I hope you have an awesome day bestie !!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

Mandieee! Thank you so much for the congratulations <333 Seeing you on my dash is always such a highlight to my day, I'm so grateful for you <33 I hope this fic is everything you hoped for and more!

Hugs That Linger

✦Zen x fem!Reader ✦ Words: 1310

Zen is a touchy person by nature around people he cares about. It’s something he’s often teased about by the other RFA members and something often speculated about by the members of his fanclubs. Was the arm he offered to his latest castmate as she descended the stairs on those treacherous heels chivalrous or romantic? Surely it had to have meant something more (it didn't). It didn’t stop the speculations running wild, though.

He loves to throw his arm over his friends’ shoulders when they’re laughing over something ridiculous. After a few drinks, he always slaps Yoosung’s shoulder and gives him life advice that he insists is important (despite Yoosung’s protests). He hugs everyone in greeting when he sees them and throws around affectionate nicknames like it’s nothing to him.

She is no exception. From the day she started working with the RFA, he has been calling her cute nicknames and hugging her and patting her head when he’s proud of her. Little things that have slowly accumulated into a little collection in her mind that she often runs through (most often subconsciously before she falls asleep).

But she is sure that she isn’t making things up when she catches him looking at her with a warmth and affection that makes her cheeks burn, or when he holds her hand when they’re leaving the theatre after another successful show. It can’t just be his playful nature catching her off-guard, can it?

She wouldn’t know what to do with herself and her growing feelings if it turned out to be true.

The crowds at the stage door every night are getting bigger. Everyone is carrying little gifts for Zen or photographs they’d like to be autographed. She stands in the middle of the crowd with everyone else, hoping to surprise him. She managed to get tickets for tonight's show by chance and didn't have time to tell him she'd be there. She’s holding a bouquet of flowers, just a small token to show him how proud she is of him.

When he finally emerges, the crowd cheers his name and she can just about make out the bashful pride on his face as he greets his fans. This is what he was made for, the life he was always supposed to lead, she thinks. And yet, there’s something flat about the look. As if there is something he’s missing.

He starts greeting the fans at the front of the crowd one by one, taking a moment with each to ask for their names and to sign an autograph for them (she remembers just a few days ago he was absentmindedly signing a piece of paper during an RFA meeting, trying to get the flourish of his pen just right).

He hasn’t spotted her yet – she doesn’t blame him. The crowd is big and everyone makes the most of the time they spend in his presence. And to his credit, he gives everyone their moment to shine. He thanks them individually for supporting him, repeats their name back to them (which never fails to make them smile) and flashes them the unforgettable Zen smile.

He also gives each of them a quick hug or a shoulder squeeze. A quick touch of contact as if to say this is real. She finds herself mentally taking note of these moments as they pass. How strange.

Eventually, he gives the crowd a quick scan again and spots her amongst the fans.

All at once, his expression brightens up and turns into a look of unbridled excitement. It fills out that last thing that was missing from his expression, makes it look finally complete. He calls her name and urges people to make way for her to get to him. She quickly joins him at the front of the crowd and, without hesitation, he pulls her into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around her waist, palm holding her body close to his, and the other behind her head, supporting her as he lifts her off the ground slightly. She still holds the flowers in one hand, but he hasn’t noticed them yet.

All she can do is wind her arms around his neck and hold on and enjoy the warmth radiating off of him. She feels safe, wrapped up in him like this, trusts that he will hold her safely until he chooses to set her down again. And then, absentmindedly, as she is noting the smell of his shampoo still lingering in his hair, she realizes that for all the hugs he has given today, none have been like this. He holds her like she is something precious.

“I’m so happy to see you, babe,” he murmurs into her hair.

She pretends that his statement doesn’t set off a million tiny fireworks in her stomach.

She isn’t sure for how long the hug lasts, only that it is over too soon, and that it felt like both an eternity and like a second (and that she wants to hug him again the second he sets her down).

Finally, she is able to present him the flowers, and he beams as he takes the bouquet gently from her hands. Before their exchange ends and he has to go back to greeting his fans, he turns to her and says, “Will you wait with me until it’s time to go?”

As if she can say no to those eyes.

“Of course, Zen.”

He grins. “Great, then I’ll walk you home!”

The rest of the crowd passes surprisingly quickly. You exchange a few words with some fans before they leave (and dodge some questions about your relationship to Zen that you don’t yet have the answers to). Every so often, he will turn to her with a look of disbelief on his face as if to say can you believe that this is happening? It’s contagious and by the time he is greeting and thanking the last fans, his smile is mirrored on her face.

Once the last fans leave, he throws his arm over her shoulders to pull her close to him again. It seems like second nature, as if he doesn’t even have to think about it. She, on the other hand, is thinking about it (a lot). Though, she tries to play it cool. She reaches for his hand that is resting over her shoulder and holds it there securely so he can’t slip away from her.

The walk back to her home is quiet, comfortable. They talk about the show, about her day, about everything they had missed out on since the last RFA meeting. Time passes without either of them seeming to notice and, even though they took the long way back to her house, they seem to arrive at her door all too quickly.

“Well…” he says, not yet pulling away from her.

“Well…” she replies, clinging to his hand harder. “Thank you for walking me home.”

“Anytime, Princess.”

He finally moves, but it’s not to pull away. He turns slightly, and pulls her close to him again, both his hands draped across her waist. Where the last hug was firm, this one is soft. Gentle.

She responds in turn, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and holding him tight. This hug definitely goes on for longer than hugs usually do, but neither of them seem to care. Before he pulls away, she takes a leap of courage. She is spurred on by the warmth of his embrace, by the lingering scent of his cologne and the realisation of how right it feels to be held by him this way. It all gives her the boost she needs to angle her face slightly and murmur into his ear, “Zenny, would you like to come inside?”

He shivers, and she feels every movement against her body.

"Yes," he replies, his voice husky.

[theunspeakablehorror]

Zenyatta x Trans Reader (ftm)

2600 words I wrote this as a gift for @techromancer1179. We love his hands

Mainly fluff and smut a little comfort 🔞

Zenyatta comed through the various emotional states radiating from people in the room only to see that your mental state needed his intervention.

Around the mountain of blankets you had turned into zenyatta leaned in to place a tea set where your head would have been. You grunt in response and stick an arm out of your cocoon to pull in your treasures.

“Sit up Dear. The tea will help.” Zenyatta said, gently bringing your shoulders off the table and readjusting your blankets to ensure maximum heat retention.

You gave him a groggy ‘thank you’ as he returned to cooking on the stove whilst you held the teacup in hand taking careful sips of the hot drink.

While he cannot taste the food, Zen has a sizable repertoire of dishes he can prepare. With your condition in mind, he opts for a simple slice of toast with an egg and two bacon slices.

Placing it down in front of you, you begin to ravage the sandwich like you hadn't eaten in the last 8 hours or the 10 before that. How long had you been working?

You had been in overtime hell as WP:Gibraltar struggled to resume full functionality with less than 100 agents, most of whom were in the field or too exhausted from their last deployment to help.

Zen’s orb of harmony spun to your shoulder as he turned to place another toasted sandwich on the counter. The bulk of the aching and discomfort seemed to wash off like you were in a steam bath. Still not in top shape but at least you looked less like a blanket zombie and more alive.

You stood up briefly to tap your forehead to his as a gesture of a kiss and felt the small current he sent through it and you gave a pleased hum in response.

Genji soon arrived to eat the other plate of prepared food although less ravenously than you had. You could hear them discuss something between them and watch the transfer of a black plastic bag from genji to zenyatta.

You were curious as to the bags contents, but knowing them, it is probably incense sticks or something to improve their meditation space.

Speaking of meditation space, zenyatta offered a hand to guide you along the pathways. The day’s spot was set among hyacinths and lavender buds.

You begin your exercises. Quieting the outside world, relaxing your limbs, and positioning yourself.

Zenyatta sat in the middle with you and Genji on either side of him facing him with a gap between you.

Meditation did well in calming the mind but your body still aches from the excess labor. You were about to go take the hottest steam bath of your life when Zenyatta stopped you with a quick gesture to move towards him.

“I see you are still under physical stress” he begins “I believe I can help with your ailment,” cocking his head slightly while holding that black bag Genji brought him.

You had been dating for a while and yet Zenyatta never seems to initiate sexual encounters. But if the black bag and his subsequent gesture to his room was anything like you thought it might be, Zenyatta has a plan in store for the night's activities.

“That would be greatly appreciated” you groaned as the two of you walked the length of the hall to his room. The room was dimly lit with candles and a table. correction. a massage table was in the center surrounded by incense and oils, now added to with the contents of the black bag.

“You deserve to take a break” he soothed, sliding behind you and reaching his arms around your neck. You sighed at the weight but his metal is always much warmer than you remember.

But, a body-heater was not in Zenyatta's plan. He gently guided you to the edge of the table and pulled his faceplate up and to the side of your face, whispering “I can go as far as you want and get into the muscles you need. Anywhere. Just ask.”

You stared with a dusting of blush at the omnic in front of you who just gave you a free ticket for anything between a normal massage and sensual touching to full on passionate sex.

You were broken out of your trance when Zen stepped into the bathroom and asked you to get undressed to your comfort level. You were debating covering your chest but you had already talked to him in great detail about your gender and held great trust in him. Underwear stays on. You were not sure that Zenyatta knew you did not have a penis. Maybe he had a preference for either. Maybe he wouldn't like you with a vagina. Negative thoughts started to cloud your head and as if on cue Zenyatta gently knocked on the door, “are you alright? I can perform a massage with clothes if you would prefer”

“NO! no. I’m ok. Just--lost in thought for a moment. I’m ready” you replied as though you weren't just on the verge of tears. When you stepped out, Zenyatta had pulled the sheet back and gestured for you to lay face down underneath, though he had turned his head to look away. For now it seemed he would go the traditional massage route, though his face rarely gave away his expressions.

The massage was exactly what you needed as Zenyatta expertly worked through your back that had been bent over various computers and storage boxes for weeks along with your feet which you had been forced to stand on for long stretches that your inserts were not helping with.

You were so lost in the feeling of relaxation that it was now time to flip over. Zenyatta helped with the sheet and helped you shuffle down onto the bed.

“It is not standard to massage the dorsal abdomen. Would you like me to?” He asked, hanging his head upside down over yours. His ministrations on your back had certainly welcomed the idea of a repeat exercise, but Zenyatta had never actually seen your top scars before. What if he didn't like them or he thought less of you.

You tip your head back more to get a better eye to eye look and manage to crack out “Are you sure you don't mind?

He stared at you for a time in silence before you piped up to clarify “My scars from top surgery and I never got bottom surgery so if you think it's gross or weird or something we…we can just leave it here.” You started to cry, digging up all your negative emotions about your body and how you could never be loved. Especially by someone like Zenyatta. Who were you to even touch him?

You startle slightly as his thumbs ghost over your scars in a long, gentle stroke outwards. The metal has warmed up significantly since he began, but you still groaned at the slight touch.

“Dearest,” he began, breaking the silence, “you are beautiful.” His hands trailed upwards to cup your face. “You are incredible and your scars are proof of your strength. Of your resolve.” Tears began to well up and he moved to wipe them away. “I treasure you. Regardless of your physical appearance.”

One hand remained on your face, catching stray tears while the other moved to stroke languidly through your hair. After some time you pulled yourself up to sit, with your legs dangling off the side, and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him tightly to your chest.

He hummed appreciatively and reciprocated the hug, rubbing large circles into your back. His hands trailed down your arms to hold your own as he pulled away. “We do not decide the bodies we are born in. I admire your courage to change and to grow. Who you chose to be is your decision. Trust in me to love all of who you are.”

You reach behind his head and pull him in to kiss the line of his faceplate as a worldless declaration. “Will you allow me to show you my affections?” Ha asked, subtly stroking his thumb over your open palm and leaning to press his forehead to yours.

“I trust you,” you respond, words trembling. “Thank you Dearest,” he said, bringing his hands to your sides. He drew shapes over your abdomen with his fingers, marveling at how the skin dipped and moved against his actions.

His fingers moved lower, catching on your pelvis and following the curve toward your inner thighs. He danced around your core, leaving wispy touches nearby but never close enough. Heat began to rise as Zenyatta continued his teasing excapade, trying to figure out where you liked to be touched and kneely listening to how you would respond with little sighs or catch your breath when he did something right.

You begane to wriggle slightly to get more friction where you wanted, but Zenyatta was quick to grab your thighs and hold them apart. You groan in annoyance and Zenyatta notes the damp area on your underwear.

His fingers moved to your waistband but he remained still, looking at you to ensure your comfort and acceptance. You take a big, calming breath before giving him the go ahead with a small smile.

Your hands also moved to the waistband to help yourself out of them. Zen folded them neatly and placed them on a nearby chair. Looking at the chair you motion to help him take off his clothing. “I don’t want to be the only one naked in here,” you look at him with a bit more confidence. He chuckles, “of course Dearest.” His clothes were folded and placed on the same chair very meticulously before he turned back to you.

Your legs weren't crossed but the hands you were resting on your lap blocked most of his view. He kmelled in front of your pressed knees and asked if he could come in and admire you. You laugh a bit at the strange comment but open your thighs just enjoy that Zenyatta could see the smallest bit.

His hands ran along the undersides of your thighs before they moved inwards to pull their plush slide and improve his view. “You are beautiful here as well,” he coos. “Even if you decide to change. I am sure you will be just as beautiful with a penis. Just as you are with a vagina. I trust you and your decisions. As long as you keep yourself safe.” He chuckles at the end as normally it’s him who will keep you safe.

He worried about the surgery for what it was and not what it did. There could be complications or something could go wrong, get mixed up. And healing after can be a mixed bag. He just wanted you to have the best and safest surgery if that was the path you went down. Maybe he would learn to do it himself, have Angela teach him how.

His hands slid up your thighs and over your pubic mound. Still avoiding your core which had been weeping slightly at his other touches. He brought himself closer to your core, his optics trained on the sight and illuminating your folds in a pale blue.

The anticipation and sight of Zenyatta between your legs was getting you heated. Your hips were fidgeting and you moved your pussy closer to his face to encourage him to do something.

He chuckled and lifted his head from between your thighs to look you in the face and ask, “do I have your permission Dearest?” “I trust you,” you replied in shaky breaths.

He placed one hand on each thigh and placed his thumbs tantalisingly close to your entrance. He used the fingers on his left hand to draw long, broad strokes through your folds while high right hand moved much higher to your nipples.

While he did not have a mouth, he made quick work with both your nipples, making you arch your back into his touch. He would ghost around the areola then pinch and roll the bud between his forefingers . Your favorite move is the slight vibrations Zenyatta produces to calm the abused flesh. It feels like a vibrator on low, maybe lower.

His left hand continues inta broad strokes but the vibration technology would soon find its way to your clit. You jerk at the sudden simulation as he presses his now vibrating thumb over the nub.

His left hand, done teasing your nipples, collects your lubricant which had begun to spill onto the table. He looks at his fingers and wonders if he could find the exact chemical compound in exchange for not being able to taste it as Cassidy mentioned one should do.

Sufficiently lubricated he pushed one finger into your folds and quickly added a second when he found little resistance “You are so relaxed. You are doing well Dearest,” he says in a high tone with a hum of affirmation and affection.

With vibrations along your sensitive walls and on your clit, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. “Touch me more!” you cry out as you feel the knot of your orgasm begin to form.

Anything Dearest. May I?” He pulls you onto his lap with your back pressed against his chest. His hands immediately went back to their work bringing you to orgasm. A flash of gold appeared from Zenyatta as six new hands appeared behind him and began to wrap around your form.

Some toyed with your nipples like zenyatta had done before but now in tandem. Another was gently stroking your hair and moving any loose strands out of your face. Two kept your thighs spread as far wide they could go to give Zenyatta the maximum space to work. The last was rubbing circles on your stomach to keep you relaxed and grounded as you soared toward your orgasm.

There wasn’t an inch of skin Zenyatta left untouched as his gold arms danced across your body. He adds a third finger into your pussy and aims at you g-spot vigerougly, well as vigorous as much as someone like Zenyatta could be.

Your breaths were heavy and the coil was tight, almost, almost ready to snap. He increased the vibrations inside and out before you felt the coil snap and you went tumbling over the edge of your orgasm.

Zenyatta helped you through your orgasm while you moaned out his name. Turning quickly, he grabbed a towel and a glass of water he had prepared previously. “Is there anything else you need Dearest?” he asked in a happy tone. When you shook your head no he asked, “Do you feel more relaxed?”

You honestly do. From his excellent massaging skills to your mind melting orgasm. You hadn't felt this good in months. “I feel amazing,” you sigh in relaxation, “and thank you for loving me.”

“No thank you for trusting me Dearest. With your body and your feelings. I am always here for you if you want to talk about it further or just want to talk about your week.” He listed off, “If you are sad I could tell you a joke or give you a hug.”

While you doubted his ability to tell jokes. He hugs better than any other. A place to talk. One on one. With the love of your life. About whatever you want. Sounds like a dream.

“I would love to Zen”

“Thank you Dearest”

[hachiibun]

Showing some love for the amazing @zensations35 and their OCs, especially Leo here who has occupied my whole brain many a day.

Zen's creativity and writing has been a huge source of inspiration for a lot of us in the community, I'm sure, and they still find time to spread kindness and support when they can! You're incredible, Zen! 💖

If you like my drawings, and are willing and able to do so, please consider sending a little something my way through ko-fi ☕! You're not obliged to donate, but every bit helps to keep me living decently and I really do appreciate it!

❗ PLEASE NO REBLOGGING TO NON-KINK BLOGS ❗

[standfucker]

Final Fall

Character: Nekomamushi

Reader: GN / AFAB

Word Count: 9.6k

CW: explicit NS.FW content, recreational drug use, monsterfucking, large insertion, biting, breeding, licking, tongue-fucking, oral (afab receiving), facesitting, excessive cum, creampie

Summary: Falling for the Cat Viper was, in your case, literal.

Ao3 Link

@daftbitch Happy birthday KP!!! Thanks for being such a fan of my stuff and chatting with me! I've loved talking to you! (And for those of you who follow KP, yeah, I'm Nekomamushi Smut Anon. Hi!) Hope you enjoy this one!

Lately, your life seemed to be one fall after the other.

First you fell for someone new in town, then you fell for a cruel trick played on you by their friends: You were tripped by one of them and literally fell in front of your crush, splashing them with mud and thus ensuring they would never again give you the time of day. Right when you were feeling especially miserable, the town bell alerted everyone to yet another pirate raid; you fell in battle against them, too, beaten and helpless as they dragged you back to their ship along with their spoils. Once out to sea, the pirates tossed you over the side of their ship, another fall into the chilly waters below. But none of those falls had been as big as what came after.

After fighting desperately to tread water amidst the crashing waves, you reached the point of exhaustion and sank. It was around noon on a warm, bright day, sunlight filtering in through the water above you, dappling the ocean’s surface and piercing through in beams around you. As the last of your oxygen reserves faded, you couldn’t help thinking that while you probably deserved better, at least your final view was beautiful. No sooner did the thought cross your mind than you felt your body being pulled into some sort of current, and in an instant, the world went dark. You could see a circle of light get smaller and smaller as you were sucked away, perhaps into some underwater cave. And just when your body reached its limits, your lungs about to give out, the light came back all at once, and you were somehow hurtling through the air.

You gasped and flailed, too winded to scream, as you fell for what seemed like an eternity. Plummeting down, you spun through the air and the world spun around you, appearing in glimpses: sky, sea, forest, sky, sea, forest. With every turn, the forest grew larger as you grew closer, until it engulfed you entirely. There was a brief but hard impact immediately followed by one so soft and plush that it broke your fall entirely, cushioning your landing.

Just like that, it was all over–or maybe, looking back, it was more accurate to say it had all started.

You shut your eyes, dizzy and dazed and not entirely sure what had happened in the last few minutes. The material beneath you was incredibly thick and fluffy, tickling your nose.

“Mrrrow?”

A rumbling, baritone sound reached your ears, like someone running their finger over the lowest piano keys. You slowly opened your eyes and looked up.

Rising in front of you was a small white hill with a big pink stripe across the top. You blinked, trying to make sense of what you were seeing, but the world wasn’t done spinning. Squinting, you waited for it to settle, and as it finally did, something fuzzy and golden rose up above the hill, right as you realized the hill was moving, too, up and down like it was breathing. No, not a hill, you realized–a round body, attached to the monstrous, feliform face peering back at you.

The creature was enormous, many times your size, its face alone so large it could have easily bitten you in half. It was currently lying on its back, regarding you with sleepy curiosity. Slowly, you glanced down–whatever this creature was, you were sprawled on its gigantic tail–and then you met its eyes again.

The cat monster craned its head up to look at the roof, where there was a jagged hole you must have caused. Then it looked to the side, and you followed its gaze to a clock on the wall.

“I’m not supposed to be awake yet,” it rumbled. “Need a few more hours.”

It laid its head back and closed its eyes, ignoring your presence. In a better state of mind, you would have realized it simply didn’t see you as a threat. In your current state, you weren’t even sure that you had survived the fall at all, possibly now dwelling in some strange afterlife. Regardless, you were sore and entirely drained, so you closed your eyes too, swiftly passing out.

A time later, you awoke halfway, vaguely aware that you were being carried. It was a comforting hold, strong and gentle, the walking rhythm feeling like being rocked. The body you were held against was warm and fluffy, mitigating the chill from your still-damp clothes, so you snuggled in further.

“Still tired, little one?” said a deep voice right above your head.

You nodded into the fur.

“Then sleep.”

…

…

Movement and light made you stir. A voice faded in, its pitch more like that of a regular human compared to the deep voice from earlier.

“...should have had someone bring them to me right away… could have gotten pneumonia…”

You opened your eyes to see what you could only describe as a bipedal donkey with long red hair bending over you, wrapping a blood-pressure cuff around your arm.

You yelped and sat bolt upright, forgetting the aches the action caused your body in order to scramble back. The donkey yelped too, leaping back a good distance.

“Please remain calm!” said a humanoid cheetah wearing doctor’s scrubs, running to your bedside with his hands up.

You stilled, eyes wide.

“Easy, now. You’re in no danger,” said the cheetah. It also had human-like hair, black and spikey.

The room you were in was some sort of clinic, modern-looking and brightly lit. You were in a patient bed, and before you were three people–the donkey person, also wearing scrubs, the cheetah person, and, dwarfing all three of you, the cat monster from before, now smoking from a long pipe.

“First things first: Are you-gara familiar with minks?” The cheetah asked.

Slowly, you nodded. You were indeed aware of the race of animal people, though they almost never passed through your hometown, so they always drew stares whenever they appeared. You could count the times you’d seen them in your whole life on one hand.

“Good, that saves us some time. I’m Dr. Kingston,” he gestured to the donkey mink, “this is my nurse, Molly. And you-gara have met Master Nekomamushi, it seems.”

You could only stare. A chill on your skin made you suddenly aware of the fact that you were naked. You quickly pulled the blanket up to cover yourself, though none of the three minks seemed to care about your nudity.

“What’s your name, lesser mink?”

You weren’t sure what a lesser mink was, but you answered anyway, hesitantly stating your full name.

“Nice to meet you-gara, Y/n! Is it alright if we continue to treat you? Your injuries are minor, but I’d like to get your vitals just in case.”

“Sure?” you said. “Um… I’m sorry, but where am I?”

Nurse Molly approached your side, fixing the blood pressure cuff back to its appropriate position just below your shoulder, then pressed a stethoscope to the bend of your arm. You stared at her hands–the palms were the same as a human’s, but each finger was dark and hardened, like a hoof.

“You’re on Zou,” the cat monster, Nekomamushi, answered. “No idea how you-gara got here. Ya just fell out of the sky while I was sleepin’! We’ll be needing ya to tell us what happened.”

You frowned, not entirely sure either. All you could do was try to recount the story up until then–the pirate abduction, being thrown overboard, sinking and getting swept into a current, the lights going out and then back on, and then your fall. By the time you finished explaining, you were well aware of how absurd it came across.

“I know it sounds crazy,” you said. “I can’t explain what happened. I mean, I hadn’t sunk to the bottom–there was open ocean around me–so I don’t know why it got dark or how I was suddenly in the air.”

Nekomamushi narrowed his eyes as you spoke, bringing a hand to his chin. He hummed, mulling it over as Molly took your temperature.

“That is indeed strange,” Dr. Kingston said, lifting your arm to inspect the cuts there. Up close, you were able to get a closer look at him. While you weren’t an animal expert, the spots you could see on his legs and tail looked big and splotchy, not like the cheetahs you had seen in pictures. “But I don’t think you-gara are crazy, Y/n. Though I’d like to check for a concussion just in case.”

“I got it,” Nekomamushi said, hitting his fist into his palm. “It must’ve been Zunesha. When he went to bathe himself, you-gara got sucked up along with the seawater. Then he sprayed ya over his back, and ya fell through my roof.”

“Zunesha?” you asked.

The following explanation was as difficult to fathom as your current circumstances. An elephant the size of an island, wandering the New World? Such things were the stuff of legend, certainly not reality. And yet, it was somehow the best explanation for what had happened to you–maybe the only one. The minks were also startlingly sincere, so much so that it was hard not to take them at their word. 

To prove it to you, the Dr. wrapped you in a robe and then led you outside. All around you were simple but functional wooden buildings, set within the forest you had glimpsed earlier. The houses were not unlike the ones in your hometown, though larger and with much steeper, triangular roofs. Though the Dr. pointed out the gray, craggy ground to you, you were more focused on the crowd of minks converging around the clinic: A myriad of different mammal species, mostly dressed in the same green uniform. It was like a reverse zoo, all of them staring at you with varying looks of intrigue. Feeling faint, you opted to go back inside shortly after that, laying back down in the patient bed and trying to process everything.

“Just take it slowly, Y/n,” Dr. Kingston said. “You’re still injured.”

“It’s a miracle nothing’s broken,” noted Molly.

The Dr. nodded furiously. “Master’s tail must have saved your life. You’re very lucky!”

You looked at Nekomamushi. “I guess I owe you one.”

“Nya-ha-ha! I was simply in the right place at the right time,” Nekomamushi said, waving it off. “Think nothing of it!”

You nodded, looking back up at the ceiling, letting your thoughts sort themselves out. At least no one in your hometown was seriously hurt from the pirate raid, and no one else had been kidnapped. Though your fate was strange, it could have been far worse–a lifetime of slavery could have awaited you had the pirates felt it worthwhile. Your throat got tight as the events of the day began to settle in. You tried to ignore it as Molly bandaged the worst of your cuts, but when you sniffled, all three minks’ heads turned to you sharply.

“Sorry,” you avoided eye contact. “I-I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t apologize, Y/n!” Dr. Kingston said. “You’ve been through a lot in one day.”

“It’s fine to talk about it, love,” Molly said tenderly.

Nekomamushi took a slow puff off his pipe, narrow eyes regarding you curiously.

You swallowed thickly. “I…I just can’t stop thinking about those pirates.”

“Naturally,” Molly said, patting your arm. “Not only did they do a number on you-teia, but you-teia could have ended up destined for–that one island, Master mentioned it before–oh, what was it called, now?”

“Sabaody,” Nekomamushi supplied.

“That’s…I don’t…I don’t have to worry about that,” you said, voice quiet in shame.

“What do you mean?” Dr. Kingston asked.

“Um…” You bit your lip, glancing away. “Well, I’m not a good fighter. Not very strong. The pirate captain, he said…he, uh…” The minks all watched you hesitate. Your gaze could burn a hole in the ground, vision blurry. “He said I wasn’t worth selling. That no one would want me…” You swallowed. “...Maybe if I fought bet–”

“I’ve heard enough.” Nekomamushi cut in, his giant hand coming to rest on your knee. With his other hand, he tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. “Listen to me, little one, and listen well: The worthless ones are those pirate bastards who attacked the town. You-gara fought back, even knowin’ ya might die. That’s not weakness!” He looked directly into your eyes, his own blazing fiercely. Leaning in closer, he moved his hand from your chin to cup your cheek. “Bravery like that can’t be bought! Your-gara value is limitless!”

It was weird, right then–he looked at you so intently, his lip curled and showing more of his long, sharp teeth, the points of his nails feather-light against your neck. You should have been scared, but right then, you’d never felt such blanketing comfort. You didn’t think anyone had spoken to you so sincerely before, and while his palm enveloped your cheek, the warmth you felt was all in your chest. It only made the tears flow harder, but you smiled despite yourself, and when you did, Nekomamushi smiled back, lips stretched wide and eyes crinkled shut. With his golden mane framing his face, it reminded you of the sun.

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, wiping your face on your arm.

Nekomamushi rose back up, beaming. “You-gara are a real mink! Take all the time you need to recover–you-gara are welcome here.”

The rest of Dr. Kingston’s exam didn’t take too long. He concluded that you didn’t have a concussion, but had made impact with the roof on your side, the largest bruises concentrated there. The rest of the bruises and cuts were from your prior fight. Disinfecting the cuts wasn’t fun, but you kept a brave face, finding yourself wanting to live up to Nekomamushi’s praise. The cat monster stayed with you in the clinic, bringing up some more urgent topics of discussion.

He gently but regretfully informed you that Zou was now likely quite far from where it was earlier in the day, as Zunesha was constantly walking. Nekomamushi would have to ask the few minks that had sailing experience if they were willing to set out on a journey to take you home, which could take some time to prepare for.

As he talked, you considered your life at home: how lackluster the offerings of your hometown were, how you were regarded by your peers, how deep down you had always longed for something different. This wasn’t what you had in mind, and you didn’t want to impose, but before he could finish speaking and before you could stop yourself, you interrupted him.

“Can I stay here?” you blurted out.

Nekomamushi’s eyes widened. He blinked, then bent over, leaning in close. You swallowed. At this distance, you could see the amber color of his irises.

“You-gara don’t want to go home?” he asked, pipe bobbing as he spoke.

You shook your head.

Nekomamushi raised a brow, but smiled. “You-gara want to live here, with us minks?”

Slowly, you nodded.

“Nya-ha-ha! Of course you can stay!” he laughed. “I meant what I said earlier. Stay as long as you-gara like.”

“Really?”

He reared back to his full height, placing one paw on his chest. “I, Nekomamushi, hereby grant you-gara a place among our kind. Any that oppose it can take it up with me!”

You slid off of the bed to stand before Nekomamushi and bowed as deeply as your sore body would allow.

“I’ll work hard!” you swore. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret it, M-Master!”

Nekomamushi grinned wide, a paw on your shoulder pushing you back up. “There’s more to discuss, but we can hammer out the details over dinner.”

Your face flushed warm, although dinner, in this case, turned out to be a group event. After you were cleared by the Dr., Nekomamushi pulled back one of the window blinds to reveal a bunch of minks trying to watch through the window. He slammed the window open and joyfully ordered them to go have a grand dinner prepared so everyone could meet you properly.

After a shower and getting dressed in some borrowed clothes, you talked to Nekomamushi while waiting for dinner to be done. In that time, you learned of the dual nature of mink society; of the two rulers of day and night, and how half of the population slept alongside their respective masters. Nekomamushi said you’d have to pick which lifestyle you wanted to live, and grinned when you immediately said you’d be nocturnal and stay with the forest folk. He said the culture might take some adjusting to, but the words didn’t come close to preparing you for that evening.

Dinner was a boisterous and very touchy affair–the majority of the minks greeted you with hugs and nuzzles (Dr. Kingston shouted at them that you were still hurt,) some even licking your face or kissing your cheek. It was overwhelming at times, but when you’d make eye contact with Nekomamushi over the heads of enthusiastic minks, he’d only smile and laugh, reassuring you that this was normal. Many of the minks wanted to talk to you, asking you a hundred questions about your home island and the things you had seen. You only hoped you didn’t disappoint them with the mundane realities of small-town life, but they seem enraptured anyway.

A dog mink named Wanda informed you that you’d have to meet their other leader, the ruler of the day, if you wanted to become a permanent resident. This immediately set off Nekomamushi, who irritably told Wanda “that mutt’s” permission wasn’t necessary. She wasn’t bothered by his sudden change of mood, only saying that it would be prudent in case you happened to wander during the day.

“Humans are naturally diurnal, are they not?” said a jaguar mink named Pedro. “I can see why you’re concerned.”

“I get it,” said Blackback, a gorilla mink. “The beauty of the town might make them change their mind!”

Nekomamushi’s ears flattened back. “The town pales in comparison to the forest.”

Another mink pointed out that humans couldn’t see well in the dark, and the boss cat’s lip curled, showing more of his fearsome teeth. You looked up at him from your spot at his side. His mane was so grand that with his ears currently pinned down, it looked like they were gone altogether. Again, combined with his bared fangs and sour expression, it should have scared you, but you only felt drawn to the strange being who seemed to have such faith in you, a total stranger.

“I want to stay in the forest,” you chimed in, turning all the mink’s heads. 

A monkey mink named Keith pointed his chopsticks at you. “You aren’t afraid of the dark? I thought all lesser minks were afraid of the dark.”

“Um… No, I mean… Well, maybe a li–”

“Don’t be rude,” said another mink, smacking Keith’s shoulder. “They go in at sundown because of the cold, obviously.”

The minks all nodded and murmured in agreement while Nekomamushi muttered something about having winter clothing. On your other side, a reindeer mink touched your arm in wonder. “It’s so smooth,” she marveled. “I thought it would be slimy, like a frog.”

It was not the first time you had been stroked by curious mink that evening. You didn’t really mind–it was interesting to feel the minks’ fingers, too. Most were like furry human hands, but a few hooved-animal species, like Molly, had hardened fingers. You figured you’d better get used to being in close physical proximity if this was normal for them.

Speaking of physical, the minks all sat closely next to each other, packed in tight so that each one’s leg would touch that of the minks sitting on either side of them. You were sandwiched between Nekomamushi and the reindeer mink–Milky, that was her name–but while Milky was quite lovely herself, all you could think about, to be honest, was being so close to the boss cat. Being squished against him warmed your whole side. It was nice. You found it hard not to steal glances up at him.

Carrot, a rabbit mink, watched you with a small smile. “Don’t worry, Master. Duke Inuarashi won’t take them from you.”

Your cheeks grew warm. You cleared your throat and glanced away for a moment, gathering your courage before peeking up at Nekomamushi to see his reaction.

The boss cat let out a growly “hmph,” then looked down at you and smiled. “It’s been a long time since I’ve made a new friend. Like hell I’ll let the dog bring you-gara to his side.”

Your cheeks got even warmer. You nodded and tried to avoid eye contact with Carrot for the rest of the evening. 

Housing arrangements were discussed, as well as what work you could do once you recovered. You had a desk job in your hometown, and there were not really any openings for such work on Zou. However, you had raised plants at home and tended to a garden, so it was decided you would help out at the moonlight farms close to the forest. Nekomamushi also offered for you to train with the Guardians, his group of warriors, if you wanted to hone your fighting skills.

Dinner lasted well into the late hours of the morning, the minks drinking and conversing and singing long after the food was finished. Everyone helped clean up, and as the hour turned, the minks departed into their dwellings. Nekomamushi said you could sleep in a guest room in his home, and you witnessed the strange sight of him instantly passing out as soon as the clock hit 6am.

Wanda and Carrot took you to meet Inuarashi. The three of you rode a strange, crocodilian beast there called a Wani, conversing along the way. You were met at the perimeter by a trio of guards you learned were Inuarashi’s Musketeers, whom Wanda explained the situation to.

Kurau City of Zou was as beautiful as Blackback had said. The rock-hewn buildings were ancient and attractive, far more rustic than the modern architecture of your hometown. Carrot separated from you at the perimeter, shouting about a bell as she darted off. Wanda explained about the welcoming bell on your way to Inuarashi's home, and by the time you arrived not ten minutes later, the bell sounded.

"Isn't it on the other side of town? How fast is Carrot?!" you exclaimed, and Wanda giggled.

The bell's ringing reverberated through the whole town, rich, deep tones pleasant to the ear. Any minks who hadn't noticed you yet now pointed you out as you passed by, though they seemed excited.

If that evening marked the first night of your life on Zou, the ringing of the welcoming bell marked the first day. Like the night before, a crowd gathered around you in the town, loosely following you as you were led to the home of Duke Inuarashi.

The Duke was a gigantic dog mink, the same towering height as Nekomamushi, and with just as imposing a presence. However, like his nighttime counterpart, he was kind and fair. After hearing the story from you and Wanda, he accepted you with little hesitation, though he made a comment on “that cat” going behind his back on matters of citizenship.

After napping in a guest room of Inuarashi's, Wanda took you back to the Whale Forest that following night. You met Nekomamushi shortly after he awoke, and he seemed unusually grumpy when he saw you.

Nekomamushi’s nose wrinkled, sending a bolt of nervousness through your stomach. Had you upset him?

“You reek of that mutt’s scent,” Nekomamushi grumbled.

“Oh… I’m sorry?” you responded awkwardly.

He bent down and held his hand out to you. “Come.”

You accepted his hand, which enveloped yours, and were immediately dragged off to another part of the building. Through another doorway, where the heat and humidity of the room became apparent before you could see why, as Nekomamushi’s body blocked your vision. You peeked around him to see the pool-sized bath centered in the middle of the room.

“We can soak here after we get cleaned up,” he said, then ushered you to a side room, where a row of shower heads were affixed to the ceiling. There were shelves built into the walls holding various cleaning products for all types of coats, with a few especially gigantic bottles in the middle that must have been for Nekomamushi. “I’m not sure which body wash is best for hairless skin, but I’m sure any of them will work just fine.”

To your shock, Nekomamushi started disrobing. You stared as he hung his robe on the hooks outside the shower room and slid off his harumaki, only finding your words once he started unbuttoning his shirt.

“What are you doing?!” you asked, realizing it was a stupid question. “I mean, um. Is this okay?”

“Is what okay?” he replied, not stopping undoing the buttons, revealing more of his fluffy chest the further down he went.

“Us bathing together?”

He removed his shirt and hung it on the hook. “Is there a problem? I lived with lesser minks for a time, and we sometimes bathed together. Is that unusual?”

You found yourself staring again. Even through the fur, you could see Nekomamushi had a husky build, visible pecs suggesting thick muscle underneath the roundness of his belly. His upper arms, usually concealed by his robe, were also huge. He had paused with his hands on the hem of his pants, arm muscles bunched as if flexing, waiting for your reply.

“Uhhh…” you said dumbly. “Um… Well, humans bathe together, but mixed-gender bathing didn’t really happen where I’m from. We separated by, uh, body type. Male and female.”

“Ohh, I see. You-gara are female, right?”

You shrugged.

“Would you-gara prefer to take turns?” Nekomamushi asked, sounding vaguely disappointed.

“Um…” you struggled not to stare at his torso any more than you already had. “I mean, if you really don’t mind, I guess I don’t mind either?”

“Meowrvalous!” He pushed down his pants without further hesitation, and you immediately turned your head.

You faced away from Nekomamushi while removing your own clothes, feeling thoroughly awkward. Yet after you hung up your clothes and walked back to the showers, Nekomamushi didn’t give your body so much as a second glance. It seemed minks really didn’t have any cultural hang-ups around nudity.

You kept your eyes off of him as much as possible, which was difficult with him standing right beside you. He didn’t have the same issue at all, turning to converse with you as if you were both fully clothed. Over time, you started to relax a little more, letting yourself return eye contact. The sight of him made you giggle, his proud, elegant mane now slick and stuck to his head, like someone dipped a poodle into a lake.

Nekomamushi offered to wash your back, which you hesitantly accepted. The moment his nails scraped your skin, full-body tingles ran down your back, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your knees practically buckled at how nice it felt, your shoulders going slack.

“Oh…” you moaned, then immediately covered your mouth.

“Nya-ha-ha! Does it feel nice?” he asked.

“Really nice.” Your eyes half-lidded. “I guess I can wash your back for you in exchange, but my nails are short and blunt.”

“Use the scrub brush.” Nekomamushi handed you the long-toothed brush he had been using. It was gigantic compared to you, the size of a dinner plate. You had to use two hands to wield it, as well as stand on the base of Nekomamushi’s tail to reach his back, but you managed. It was a full-body exercise to scrub all of his back, though you didn’t mind after how graciously he had accepted you into his home. It was really the least you could do, and his satisfied purring was nice to hear as well.

The bathwater was the perfect temperature, just hot enough to melt all the soreness right out of your tired body. It was deep, too–it had to be to accommodate Nekomamushi, and it left you kicking lightly to stay afloat. He hooked his elbows on the rim of the bath and leaned back, letting out a sigh of contentment. You followed suit, leaving an arm out to hold onto the edge so you could relax.

“Ahhh, this is the life! And you-gara smell much better washed of his scent.”

You didn’t respond. Wanda had mentioned that an ancient feud went back between the mink lords, and it was better not to ask. There were other things on your mind, however. All of this was so sudden, and had been so easy. Almost too easy. You weren’t used to things going so well for you, you couldn’t help being uncertain with the change.

“Why did you accept me?” you asked suddenly, and Nekomamushi turned his head to look at you curiously. “I mean, you don’t know anything about me. For all you know, I could be a danger to your people.”

“Are you-gara a threat?” he asked bluntly.

“N-No.”

Nekomamushi shrugged. “That’s good enough for me.” You stared, and he smirked a little. “What, not convinced? Alright, then, little one. Listen well: First of all, all minks are natural-born fighters, even the civilians. Secondly, I have been a warrior for many years. My instincts are as sharp as my claws! Combined with observation haki, I would have sensed if you posed a threat long before you could do anything. Satisfied?”

You nodded, feeling a little silly for having doubts.

“Besides,” he added offhandedly, “the moment I thought you might harm another mink, my teeth would find your neck before you could so much as scream.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you were suddenly very aware of your nakedness in a way you hadn’t been earlier–but fear only had a little to do with it. You instantly felt at a loss for why your body responded like that, because that shouldn’t be hot, but there you were.

“Ah, do not worry about it. I trust you-gara!” Nekomamushi hooked his arm around your body and pulled you up onto his torso, rubbing his face into yours in a typical mink greeting, though one you were used to experiencing clothed. “Garchu~!”

“Ack-!”

Upon seeing you covering yourself, he apologized and set you back into the water, and for the rest of the bath, all you could think about was how nice his fur felt on bare skin.

Life on Zou was invigorating. You learned the intricacies of how to tend crops that grew on elephant-skin soil in the dusk, toiling with the other farmers in the cool, night air. There was a mid-work nap everyone took together (you loved that,) before retiring after a few more hours of work. Afterwards, you would head deeper into the forest to train with the Guardians. All of them put you through your paces, especially Pedro, a ruthless but wise teacher. Your fighting skills sharpened week after week, though you would never be able to use electro like the rest of them, they all accepted you into their fold without question. Sometimes you even sparred against Nekomamushi, though it quickly became clear that he was in a league ahead of your own. Everyone would eat and bathe together after practice. You eventually grew so accustomed to the nudity that you were fine playing water-volleyball in one of the ponds in the buff.

In some ways, life on Zou was faster paced than your hometown. In other ways, it was the opposite. Adjusting to a nocturnal schedule was the most difficult part, taking you a few months to fully reset your internal clock.

All of the minks were friendly, even austere ones like Pedro squished his face against yours in a friendly garchu whenever you first saw each other. You found it easy to make friends, your own awkwardness no barrier to the minks’ affability. The Guardians especially liked your eagerness to learn despite your lackluster fighting ability, thinking highly of your willingness to get up no matter how much you were knocked down. It didn’t matter if you weren’t on their level yet, as they would say, as your fighting spirit was.

“I told you,” Nekomamushi said one time after helping you back to your feet yet again, “you-gara are a real mink!”

You were, to put it simply, riveted by Nekomamushi, more so than any other mink. He kept saying things that would leave you speechless in how easily it touched you, or doing things to show his appreciation of your presence. You ended up following him around in your off time, and to your relief, he didn’t seem to mind at all. He would even train you one-on-one sometimes, or invite you to bathe with him, or spend time in his company on his patrols, where he let you ride his back and cling to his mane as he raced through the treetops.

The weeks slipped by, each one leaving you feeling closer and closer to Nekomamushi, until suddenly it was over half a year since you’d landed on Zou.

Your life was fairytale-esque at times, and there wasn’t much you missed living on Zou. However, a slight problem had started to rear its head now and again:  you were lonely. Not in the usual sense–it was impossible to feel lonely around minks–but physically. Even before you had landed on Zou, you hadn’t had much luck in the romance department. Now, surrounded by minks, you didn’t know how to feel about it.

They were exactly like humans in every aspect aside from their therian heads, really. It shouldn’t have been weird. And usually, it wasn’t, though you kept struggling with your attraction–especially to Nekomamushi. It was getting harder to deny it to yourself, but you tried anyway, as surely someone like him wouldn’t be interested in your tiny, human self.

Your needs continued to go unaddressed, and you tried not to think about it, but one day, Pedro had you pinned in combat, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced when he held his sword to your throat. It didn’t help that he was handsome, in a feral sort of way.

Pedro leaned in. “Do you-gara yield, Y/n?”

You swallowed. “Yep. You got me again.”

“Do not feel bad. You-gara have greatly improved. You just need to keep focusing on your footwork.” He lowered his sword, but did not move away, face inches from yours.

“Pedro?”

“You-gara should know,” Pedro said quietly, glancing at the other minks some distance away, “it is not fair of you to release scent like that when you’ve been claimed.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you not aware?” Pedro said, pulling away and looking confused. “I know humans are nose-blind, but…do you really not know?”

“Wait, hold on? Claimed? I’ve been claimed?” you asked. “What does that mean?”

“Humans,” Pedro huffed tiredly, then elaborated, “when Master Nekomamushi rubs his head on you, he’s claiming you so that other minks don’t make a move.”

“Wait, wait. I thought that was a garchu?”

“It’s different from a garchu.”

“How?”

“Because of the scent. You-gara had no idea, huh?” Pedro laughed. “I guess you and Master have something to talk about.”

“Pedro!” you nearly shouted. “Can I please be dismissed from training?”

“Of course. But I expect you to work twice as hard tomorrow.”

You took off, shouting, “Thanks, Pedro!” behind you as you went. Every time Nekomamushi had hugged you or head-bumped you, that was a claim? You tried to think back, to figure out how long he had been doing it. A few months, or longer? You couldn’t tell, you didn’t know the difference, couldn’t smell it at all.

God damn it. All this time, and you had no idea.

You raced to Nekomamushi’s home, opening the door without knocking (as you were allowed) and screeched to a halt in his bedroom, where he was perched on his gigantic mattress with a comb and his pipe. The scent lingering in the room was different from the usual herb blend he smoked.

“Master Nekomamushi!” you called, but now that you were there, didn’t know how to address the topic. “Uh…”

“Hello, kitten. Garchu!” He hopped off the bed and scooped you up, pressing and rubbing his face against yours.

"Garchu to you too." you giggled nervously. "What are you doing? That smells different. What is it?"

"Catnip," he grinned.

"No it's not," you said, and he grinned wider.

"It could be."

"Stop that. What is it, really?" you pressed. It smelled slightly pungent.

Nekomamushi chuckled. "It's an herb called skunkmint."

Mink weed, you thought to yourself. "How is it?"

"It gets you high, if that's what you're wondering. Would you-gara like to try it, little one?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Ya ever smoke anything like that before?" He asked, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to him. 

"Yeah, it won't be my first time." You assured, hopping up to sit by him.

Nekomamushi passed you the pipe, and you took a cautious pull, inhaling the smoke slowly. The smoke irritated your lungs almost instantly, and when you coughed, he patted your back.

"Take small hits. You-gara haven't smoked in a long time, I bet."

"Yeah," you coughed, passing the pipe back.

You took turns taking puffs from the pipe, chatting idly about nothing. The high settled over you pretty fast, a light and airy sensation that somehow made you relax while making you feel hyper-aware of your body. Your earlier concern about Nekomamushi’s claim floated around your mind like dandelion fluff, both concerning and not a big deal at the same time.

Nekomamushi offered you the pipe again, and you raised your hand to indicate you were done. 

“This is nice, but any more and I’ll float away,” you mumbled, making him giggle. It was cute. You picked up the comb that lay behind him on the bed, huge compared to you–the size of a washboard. “Were you grooming? Want help?”

“I’d love that,” he rumbled, taking a final puff from the pipe before snuffing out the herb. He set it down on the bedside table while you climbed his side to perch on his shoulder. It wouldn’t be the first time you helped him comb his mane. It always made for good background activity while you conversed.

Nekomamushi purred as you ran the comb down the side of his head. “That feels extra nice after the skunkmint.”

“I’d bet,” you smiled, happy to help him feel content. “You don’t do this a lot, huh?”

“No. It lets my guard down too much,” he admitted. “I need ta stay sharp. But Pedro can take care of things for tonight.”

“Any special occasion?” you asked, and he shook his head. 

“Just thought I’d take it easy. I’m glad you-gara are here right now.”

“Me too,” you said, and he smiled. On a whim, you decided to put yourself out there. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?” he fixed his reddened eyes on you. “What about?”

“Just… stuff.” you said. “Pedro told me that, uh… Well…” you hesitated.

Nekomamushi hummed. “Take your time. You-gara can tell me when you’re ready.”

“Okay,” you said, and went quiet for a while, focusing on the combing as you tried to gather your courage.

No pressure. Nekomamushi liked you, Pedro had more or less said so outright. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t you just ask?

“Hey, Nekomamushi?” In your intoxicated state, you forgot the ‘Master’. It hit you right as he started to reply.

“Ye–”

“I meant Master Nekomamushi!” you interrupted. “Sorry.”

He laughed, shaking shoulders bouncing you a little. “You-gara do not have to call me Master.”

Maybe it was just the weed, but you could practically feel the hot blood rushing to your face, the picking up of your heartbeat. He hadn’t said that to anyone else. Maybe Pedro was right.

“What was the question, little one?” Nekomamushi asked.

“Oh, right. If minks of different species interbreed, what species is the child?” Not exactly the question you were going for, but a step in the right direction.

“A good question,” he said, angling his head against the comb. “The child could be the species of either parent at random, though may retain traits of both species. For example, a bull mink and a cat mink’s offspring may look like a bull or a cat. Yet if it looks like a bull, it may still have cat-like traits, like feeling comfortable in high places. Or the child could look like a cat, but paw the ground when angry.”

“Fascinating! So many minks are actually mixed?”

“That’s right! I myself have mixed ancestry. Aside from cat, I have tiger, boar, and fox blood.”

“Wow!”

Nekomamushi chuckled, pleased at your interest. “I’ve even heard of minks interbreeding with humans.”

You froze where you were combing, feeling your stomach flip. Swallowing, you resumed, though he definitely must have noticed the pause. “Oh?”

“I don’t know if any offspring have resulted from such unions, but it’s not looked down upon by mink-kind.”

“Oh.”

You were quiet for a while, nothing breaking the silence but the gentle scratching sound of the comb’s teeth going through his mane and his rumbling purr.

“I, uh, have another question,” you finally said.

“Mm?”

“How do you, uh… I mean…” you stammered, and Nekomamushi glanced at you, making you look pointedly away. “Are you… Are you able to sleep with other minks, you know, given how big you are?”

Nekomamushi did not respond right away. When you braved looking back at him, you saw that he had turned his head toward you now, giving you his full attention.

“Why, Y/n,” he said, “what an odd thing to ask.”

Your heart hammered inside your chest, face hot with embarrassment. “If it’s too personal, you don’t have to tell me. I was just, uh…”

“Curious, kitten?” he smirked, and you felt the heat spread through your whole body, because he’d never called you that before. Nekomamushi brought his hand to gently cup your cheek, and you automatically leaned back into his hand like it was involuntary. “Is there something you need to tell me, perhaps?”

You gazed into his shining amber eyes, all at once at a loss and more sure of yourself than you’d ever been.

“I love you,” you said simply.

“I know.” He smiled wider. “From the very beginning, you-gara fell for me.” He brushed back your hair tenderly, leaning in closer. “Not just with your heart, but with your body… I can smell your interest, radiating from you so sweetly whenever you’re around me. It must have been a long time since you've last mated.”

You could only nod, entranced by his gaze, his touch.

“So. I could simply answer your question. Or, as I think we'd both prefer, I could give you-gara a demonstration.” He wrapped an arm around you to pull you to sit on his chest, holding you so close his face was only inches away, fearsome teeth slightly bared in his smirk. “My brave little kitten isn't afraid, are they?”

You lightly touched the ends of his tusk-like lower canines, sharp enough to prick your finger if you’d pressed any harder.

“No,” you said, and closed to distance, pressing your lips to his upper lip before you could hesitate.

Nekomamushi closed his mouth and kissed you back, adjusting his hold on you to bring you even closer, one hand buried in your hair. He tasted of the skunkmint you smoked and of pine, and of his own unique scent that you had grown fond of. His lower canines gently scraped your cheeks, and his lips couldn’t purse very far in front of his wide mouth, but he kissed you anyway and he kissed you without abandon, growling to himself in satisfaction. You don’t know what you had expected–you’d thought about it before, sure–but it was better than anything you could have imagined, if only for the way it made all the sensitive nerves in your mouth and heart fire off at once.

You pulled apart, staring at him with a lovestruck, dopey smile. “I didn’t know that would be so nice.”

“This will be even nicer,” he purred, laying you on your back and crawling over you. Your heart pounded as he pressed his face into your neck and inhaled deeply. “You-gara smell exquisite. Far too long, I have kept myself in check, waiting for you to approach while your troublesome pheromones beckoned me.”

He tore your shirt from your body suddenly, making you gasp, keeping his face in your neck and taking deep whiffs as he shredded the rest of your clothes. Once you were naked, he licked your neck with his rough tongue. You bit your lip not to moan.

Nekomamushi paused, taking in your expression. “You-gara are certain, yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, grabbing his lower canines and pulling him in for another kiss. His growls riled you up, the excitement making you grow slick between the legs, something his keen nose picked up on right away. He pulled away from your mouth to lick up your stomach, then your chest. The light scraping of his tongue tickled and teased, your body overly-sensitive from the weed. Then he licked up your breast, flicking his tongue at the nipple, and this time, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“Oh-! ‘Mushi, that’s–”

“Sensitive, kitten?” Nekomamushi pinned your arms to your sides at the wrists and kept licking your breasts, making you squirm and whine at the onslaught. You grew wetter and wetter, the stimulation going straight to your cunt and making it ache to be touched. “Beg for me a little. I want to hear ya–tell me what ya want.”

“I want you to eat me out!” you said shamelessly, struggling against his grip. “Please! You’re right, it’s been so long…”

“Hmm.” He didn’t let up. You could practically feel each bump of his tongue against your stiff nipples, so electric you almost didn’t realize he was waiting for more.

“Please, ‘Mushi! Stop teasing me! I–I need you!”

“Do ya now?” he purred.

“Yes! Only you. No one else.”

That seemed to stroke his ego enough, or perhaps he finally decided to show mercy. Pleased, he released his hold on you to instead scoop you into his arms, rolling onto his back onto the bed and setting you down to straddle his mouth.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, taking your hands and placing them on his soft ears. Getting the message, you closed your fingers around the side of his ears for leverage, making him groan–it must have been a sensitive spot for him. “Feel free to grab or pull if ya need to.”

Nekomamushi pressed his muzzle into your cunt, sniffing, and growled in approval. You felt wetness at the sides of your legs and realized he was salivating, right before he stuck his tongue out and licked all rational thought from your brain in one rough swipe between your legs.

“Fuck!” You immediately gripped his ears hard, which only spurred him on further, another long swipe of his tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top, almost too much against your clit.

Almost.

You ground your hips into his mouth, whimpering as he lapped at your center over and over, each time sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your lower half. You sang his praises the whole time, whether with small noises or smaller words.

It had been a long time, so it didn’t take long before you felt yourself getting worked up to that beckoning edge.

“‘Mushi, I’m gonna cum,” you whined.

He grabbed your legs in response, pulling you right into his mouth and penetrating your core with his thick, hot tongue. Your back arched as he probed deep, legs spasming; the lack of attention to your clit pulled you just enough away, while his tongue prodding your g-spot pushed you forward again, keeping you riding the edge of what promised to be an earth-shaking orgasm.

The only words you could form were his name, everything else a babbling mess as you finally came apart, spasming hard around his tongue. You pulled his ears so roughly that you were certain it hurt him, but he only purred so hard you could feel it rumbling inside of you.

Nekomamushi held you down to him, riding out every wave of your orgasm until you buckled, slumping forward with your face falling into his mane, groaning. He withdrew his tongue into his mouth, smacking his lips once before checking in.

“All good, kitten? Do ya wanna stop?”

“Uhh,” you replied dumbly. “Hold–hold on.”

He chuckled as he picked you up, laying you against his broad chest. “Glad to hear it.”

You hugged him, burying your face into his fluffy mane. “Thank you… I loved it…”

“Good! Wanna keep going?”

You lifted your head, nodding eagerly. “Y-Yes! I can take you, ‘Mushi. Probably…”

“That’s my kitten.”

You turned your head to see him fully erect. His cock was, to your surprise, mostly human looking, red with a soft triangular shape to the tip, and rock solid. You crawled down his belly and immediately wrapped your hands around the twitching base. It was easily the length and thickness of your arm, and already, the head was weeping clear precum. He shuddered as you gave an experimental stroke.

You repositioned yourself to sit comfortably, clit pressed snugly against the base of his cock, and started to stroke him up and down with both hands. A deep, guttural groan came from the cat monster. More sure of yourself, you tightened your grip and kept going, encouraged by the ragged noises it elicited from him.

You made sure to tease him back, keeping your pace steady but not too quick as revenge for earlier. Only after he growled a needy “kitten,” did you lean forward and lick the head of his cock. It was slightly salty and didn’t taste like much else, and the noise it pulled from was downright bestial. Now fully confident, you closed your mouth around the head and sucked.

Nekomamushi instantly bucked his hips up into your mouth before he could stop himself, gasping. It pushed your head up more than actually gagged you, as he was too big to fit any further in your mouth anyway. He quickly apologized, but you only doubled down, stroking him faster and sucking harder. You pressed your torso against his cock, using your body to help stroke him off, feeling yourself get more and more excited as you did until you could no longer wait.

You weren’t sure if you could fit him, but you weren’t ending this evening without trying. At this point, he had leaked so much his cock was slathered in pre-cum, as well as your hands, and you were still soaked from earlier. Now was probably your best shot. You turned to face Nekomamushi, finding him watching you with wide eyes, and stood up, positioning yourself over his length.

Nekomamushi brought his hands to your hips, helping to steady and guide you down. The pointed tip of his cock spread your lips wide, already pushing you open before giving away into an even bigger shaft. You bit your lip as you sank down slowly, spread open wider and wider. Both of you were holding your breath, his grip on your hips secure. You made it about halfway down his cock before you were full to bursting.

“That’s–mm… That’s…” you tried to say, already dumb with how filled you were, “as far as I can go.”

“That’s fine!” Nekomamushi’s eyes had rolled back, his tongue poking out slightly. “Did so well, kitten. Fuck, just look at ya. Taking me when you’re such a little thing. Knew ya could do it… ” his praises went straight to your head, making your eyes flutter shut. “I’ll go slow.”

“Don’t,” you replied, opening your eyes to look directly into his. “I can take whatever you give me.”

“Oho?” He smirked. “A bold claim. But if I don’t hold back, I’m afraid I might hurt ya. Trust me, okay, kitten?”

“Okay…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you never forget tonight. Fuck, you’re already clamping down on me like crazy. I bet you-gara just love big dick, hm? Love being so full you can’t think straight?”

You canted your hips forward, whimpering. “Y-Yes, ‘Mushi, I love it”

“Good kitten.” He held you by the hips, claw-tips lightly scratching your skin, and lifted you slightly, letting you lower yourself back down onto him. Your back arched at the sensation, and he grinned.

“There you go. Just ease into it,” he purred, guiding you as you started to ride him. It was an all-consuming feeling, filled out and fucked slow, cunt stretched from every angle. You moaned softly as you went. By now, all your training had given you far more strength in your legs, letting you last much longer than you would have when you first showed up. You placed your hands over his on your hips, head lolling down weakly from how good it felt.

“Look at me, kitten,” Nekomamushi said, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He smiled. “There ya go–beautiful. I wanna see that look on your face. You-gara look good all fucked-out like that.”

“‘Mushi,” you whimpered. “Feels so good.”

“Want it harder?”

You quickly nodded. Nekomamushi rolled forward so you were on your back, then pulled out, flipping you over onto your hands and knees before repositioning himself at your entrance. He penetrated you from behind, another deep groan as he slid in as far as he could physically go.

“Ready?” he checked.

“Yes! Please!” you pushed yourself back onto him even further, proving your eagerness and making him purr.

“There’s my good kitten. Just say the word if ya need ta stop.”

You dug your fingers into the sheets as he started to thrust, slowly at first. You moaned as he took control, one hand on your hips to keep you steady, the other arm planted right over your shoulder to hold himself up. You hooked one arm around his, holding onto the burly muscle, and braced yourself against his heavy thrusts. It felt so damn good that all you wanted to do for the rest of your life was stay there beneath him, taking his cock like it was all you were meant for.

You were never leaving Zou.

“‘Mushi! Oh, fuck! Fuck!” you cried, arching your back.

Nekomamushi was panting between growls, grip on your hips tightening. “Good god, kitten. Ya feel so damn good. So tight. M’never letting you go.” He lowered his head to snarl by your ear. “You-gara are mine. I’m gonna make ya my mate, gonna breed ya so well all minks will smell who you belong to.”

“Yes,” you moaned, feeling your peak building once again. He speared deep inside you, just the slightest edge of pain as his tip nudged your cervix, just enough to keep you present and aware. His speed had picked up, his rhythm perfect and unbroken, dragging you, whimpering and writhing, to the edge.

“Ah… Ah! I’m… I’m gonna cum, kitten. Is it okay?”

“Yes! Please don’t stop!”

A few more thrusts, and the both of you crested the edge, your head thrown back as your orgasm hit you with the force of a speeding train. Nekomamushi, perhaps overcome with instinct, lowered his head to bite the back of your neck, keeping you in place while he spilled deep inside your guts. Maybe it was the intoxication, but the light pain complimented the pleasure so well your knees buckled from the sensation, only kept up by Nekomamushi’s hold on you.

Perhaps minks were built differently, but he came for a while, each time thrusting slightly against you as he spurted more and more. At first the excessive wetness made you think you squirted until you looked down. Cum had leaked past the base of his cock, spilling onto the sheets below.

Nekomamushi suddenly released you, licking your bleeding neck. “I’m sorry, kitten! I didn’t mean ta bite ya. Do you-gara feel okay?”

“I’m okay,” you confirmed, turning your head to smile up at him. “I, uh, I actually liked it.”

“I still should have asked first,” he said sheepishly, pulling out with a wet squelch. A flood of cum followed, gushing out of you so quickly you shuddered at the weird feeling. “Whoops... I’ll have to wash the sheets.”

You collapsed onto the bed, not really caring about the sheets, though you knew it ought to get dealt with before it soaked through to the mattress.

“Maybe after you rest a minute first,” Nekomamushi said, flopping down at your side, bouncing you on the mattress.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You snuggled into his thick fur and closed your eyes, feeling safer than you’d ever felt. After a few minutes, you spoke up. “‘Mushi?”

“Yes, kitten?”

“Can minks impregnate humans?”

He went quiet. You went quiet. Neither of you spoke for a minute.

“Let’s go talk to Dr. Kingston,” Nekomamushi suggested, and you laughed. “Let’s go talk to him, quickly.”

The sheets were forgotten as you washed up and raced to the doctor for emergency contraception, and the mattress ended up ruined, but neither of you had any regrets.

[wrrrenff]

Morning Music

Mystic Messenger Zen x F! Reader Synopsis: You woke up before Zen that morning and decided to make breakfast. Warnings: none Gif credits to the creator!

You and Zen have been together for about a year, and you were loving every single second. You and Zen were both constantly doing things and finding out information about each other that just made you both fall that much more in love with each other. The moment you appeared in the R.F.A. Chatroom all that time ago and started talking with the scarlet eyed man, you felt such a strong connection to him. You could tell he felt it too.

After about 4 months into your relationship, you decided to move out of Rika's old apartment and move in with Zen. At that point you had stayed overnight at his place most of the time so it was only natural. Over time, you and Zen started seeing new sides to each other, you even started to pick up each others habits. They just made you both fall even deeper in love. Just like this particular morning.

You and Zen went long and hard last night causing you both to sleep in, something quite rare for the both of you. Zen usually woke early to get a start on his daily exercise and you are just naturally an early riser. This morning you woke up before Zen. God is he a gorgeous sleeper. The sun shining on his face perfectly and complementing his chiseled features nicely. You could sit in bed and just stare at him for hours.

After contemplating whether or not to get up, you decided it would be best to make you both some breakfast. So, you got up, slipped on a baggy tee shirt, your favorite pajama pants with the ducks on them, and put your hair up into a quick messy bun.

Zen is a pretty heavy sleeper so you decided to put on some music while whipping up your meal. As you started to prep your ingredients you started to sing along to the song coming from your phone. It was your favorite song after all, how could you not? Usually you didn't sing around the house. Zen is such an amazing singer that you felt nervous singing around him. You didn't have a bad voice but it was nowhere near the angelic notes that danced out of him. As crazy as it seemed, you were scared Zen would judge your voice, so you only ever hummed around him and sang when he was out for work. You were in your own world, chopping veggies for your breakfast, singing, and dancing that your were completely unaware of the silver haired man watching you.

Zen stirred from his slumber by the sound of a pan clanging in the kitchen. When he noticed you weren't in bed with him, he got up to look for you. As he left the bedroom, the image he was met with took him by surprise. As his eyes met the scene he couldn't help the toothy grin from appearing on his face. You were quite a sight to take in after all.

Zen was going to greet you but stopped, wanting to take in the moment. His eyes grew large at the sound of you singing. He could have sworn he had heard your singing voice before, but as he scanned his memories he came up short.

“Wow! She sounds great! Why has she never sung around me before” He thought.

His heart felt full at the moment. Your (h/c) hair in its disheveled bun, your big shirt and pajamas that made you look so tiny, and the radiant smile as you sang. He couldn't believe he was dating such an amazing woman. He was so tempted to get his phone to record this moment, but decided against it to avoid potentially getting caught. Instead, he just stood there savoring it all. Every time you did a little dance, when you pretended that the wooden spoon in your hand was a microphone, and even the little faces you made when trying to hit certain notes just made him completely smitten. He couldn't sit and watch anymore.

As you were in the zone, practically putting on your own private concert, your eyes grew with shock as you heard a booming voice joining you in song. Quickly, you spun around finding Zen waltzing in with a giant goofy smile on his face as he sung with you.

“Zen! You scared me! Oh no, did I wake you? Was I being too loud” You got anxious wondering how much of your one woman show he had seen.

“Not at all. Besides, you put on quite the show.”

“Oh no.” You thought as you suddenly felt your face start to burn.

“Say, jagi, how come you never told me you could sing?”

“W-what? I can't sing at all. I s-sound like a dead cat!” You playfully smacked his arm.

A confused look grew on Zen's face. “Are you kidding? Your voice was great! And don't even get me started on those adorable moves you've got.”

You buried you face in you hands. At this point you were sure your face was as red as a tomato.

“I know it sounds dumb b-but I'm embarrassed to sing in front of you.” You went to look at Zen, but as soon as your eyes met his, you averted your gaze. Zen couldn't believe what he just heard. He would never judge you about anything. Nothing you do could make him love you any less than he did.

Zen let out a small laugh and lifted your head from your hands so that he could look you in the eyes “Jagi, your voice is beautiful. And even if you did sound like a dead cat, I would still want to hear it and duet with you every single time.”

God you love this man. How did you get so lucky. You knew it was stupid to think the way you did but he knew just how to erase any doubts you might have had. You quickly pulled him into a tight embrace, followed by a passionate kiss.

“Your the best, you know that. I can't wait to share many a duet with you, my love”

“And I you.” You kissed once again, both of you feeling the love you share for each other pouring out of you. You then went back to cooking, Zen helping as best he could even though you already had most of it prepared, and you both broke out into song and dance once again. You could believe how much this man loved you, but you wouldn't trade him or his love for anything in the world.

[mera-k1]

KEHSJSHS the way my knees just gave up everytime i read your devourable fic— may i have K, O, U from the smut alphabet with Yohei and Zen, please?💋

thank you, nonnie!!♡♡ i'm so glad you enjoy them~ please enjoy this one as well!

Smut Alphabet [K, O, U]

Yohei, Zen x gn!reader

-smut

yohei kanbayashi

kink [one or more of their kinks]

-first thing that strikes me when i think of something for yohei is praise. he seems so rough and tough on the outside but on the inside? he's a big sweetheart towards you specifically. he loves you and praise just ends up spilling from his mouth when you take him well.

-this goes both ways too! praise him and he's like putty in your hands. he just can't get enough of your voice praising him. he swears his heart beats way too fast whenever a string of praises falls from your mouth about how good he's making you feel.

oral [giving or receiving? do they like it? how good are they?]

-i don't think he minds giving or receiving oral. he'll give you oral whenever you want him to with no hesitation, preferring for to be in between your thighs usually. he doesn't mind if you want to suck him off though!

unfair [how much do they tease you in bed? do they like to be teased sexually?]

-hmm.. i think it depends on the situation with yohei. he doesn't like it when you tease him, it pisses him off to no end whenever you try teasing him while he works or teasing the tip of his dick before you suck him off. teasing you though depends on the situation. if he's jealous then yes, you will be getting some teasing from yohei.

zen gaho

kink [one or more of their kinks]

-feels a little repetitive but zen loves making the whole experience very sensual and romantic and therefore would love to praise you and worship your body once in a while. he loves to tell you how pretty or cute you look and how much he loves you. you'll hear it at least 5 times during foreplay..

oral [giving or receiving? do they like it? how good are they?]

-he'd rather give oral than receive it. he has nothing against receiving it if you want to get down between his legs and suck his thick cock off but he just loves being the one to give you sweet pleasure.

unfair [how much do they tease you in bed? do they like to be teased sexually?]

-hmmm.. i think it depends with zen. he doesn't have the heart to be mean and tease you but he'll try his best if that's what you're into. teasing him though... it gets him sooo flustered. he can't help but enjoy the way you tease him as your fingers travel up his chest, taunting his imagination as you slide your hand up his neck with a teasing smile on your perfect face.